1 To surprise my husband, I secretly scheduled an intimate rejuvenation surgery. But when the procedure was over, the area that was supposed to be a delicate pink was as black as charcoal. Furious, I confronted the surgeon. She just covered her mouth and giggled. “Oh, my apologies. I must have mixed up the lightening agent with the tanning solution.” “Besides,” she added, “you know how dark you were to begin with, right? What’s a little darker?” Rage boiled in my veins. I grabbed a stool, ready to smash it over her head. In the struggle, her phone fell to the floor. The screen lit up, and the wallpaper made me freeze. … Looking at her face again, I finally remembered. I had seen that same face on Wyatt’s phone screen once. He’d told me she was just some celebrity, a random wallpaper he’d picked. I had forced down the unease, telling myself not to be a jealous, suspicious wife. But it was clear now he’d been lying to me for a very long time. When Wyatt arrived, he rushed straight to Jenna, completely oblivious to me sitting in the corner of the room. He looked at her red, swollen cheek, his face a mixture of anger and concern. “Jenna, are you okay?” She burst into tears and threw herself into his arms, the picture of a wronged victim. They clung to each other, a handsome man and a beautiful woman, a perfect pair. It was such a picturesque scene that I almost forgot I was the man’s wife of ten years. Wyatt stroked Jenna’s face, his voice thick with fury. “Who did this to you?” Jenna glanced at me, and her sobs intensified. “Some old woman, in her thirties. I just made a tiny mistake, and she attacked me.” “Where is this old woman?” I set my water glass down, my eyes cold as I stared at his back. “Right here.” Wyatt must have been too consumed by anger, too heartbroken, to recognize the voice of the woman who had shared his bed for a decade. He spun around, his face a mask of rage, and only froze when he saw me. “What are you doing here?” “Wyatt, honey, you know this old woman?” Jenna asked, clinging to his arm as she sized me up. A complex expression crossed Wyatt’s face. After a moment of internal struggle, he finally introduced me. “This is my wife, Sienna.” “What? This old… this patient is your wife?” “Patient? Sienna, what’s wrong? Are you sick?” My lips tightened. I didn’t know how to answer. Admitting I’d gone behind my husband’s back for a procedure like this, all to please him, was humiliating. But Jenna had no such qualms. She eagerly explained everything. “She’s not sick. She was here for an intimate lightening procedure. Wyatt, it’s all my fault. I accidentally made her even darker. Do you think it will affect your… married life?” I gripped the hem of my shirt, a wave of shame and fury washing over me. Wyatt and I hadn’t been intimate in over a year. At first, he said he was too busy with work, too tired, that he’d lost his libido. To spark his interest, I bought all sorts of lingerie, trying everything I could think of to seduce him. But he was like a statue, completely unmoved, leaving me to feel like a clown putting on a pathetic show. Then, I thought of the cosmetic procedures all the women in my social circle were getting. After some research, I found this reputable clinic. I had hoped the surgery would fix things between us, but instead, I was met with this medical disaster. And now, it seemed my husband was having an affair with the surgeon responsible. Before I could demand an explanation, Wyatt spoke first. “What were you doing getting a procedure like that? At your age, are you trying to go out and fool around?” A sharp pain lanced through my chest. I stared at him in disbelief. “What did you just say?” “I asked why you would get such a trashy procedure. And did you hit Jenna?” A trashy procedure. I almost laughed. He walks in, embraces his mistress, shows zero concern for what she’s done to my body, and is completely consumed with defending her. He even had the audacity to mock my age in front of her. And then he accused me of being indecent. I smashed my water glass at his feet. Shards flew, one of them slicing Jenna’s ankle. “I am done with you both.” 2 Jenna let out a whimper, clutching the bleeding cut on her ankle. Wyatt panicked, about to call for a doctor. “It’s a scratch. It will heal in a minute. Wyatt, what are you so flustered about? Don’t you think you owe me an explanation? Who is she to you?” Jenna bit her lip, her eyes misty. She turned to me and bowed deeply. “Miss Miller, Wyatt and I are childhood sweethearts. We’ve known each other since we were kids. I just moved back from overseas a year ago.” “What happened today was truly an accident, but… I didn’t use that much tanning solution. You were already quite dark to begin with…” I raised my hand and slapped her, hard. “First, your professional negligence caused a medical accident.” “Second, you disclosed a patient’s private information without consent and then publicly shamed her body.” “Third, that man you’re clinging to is my husband.” “You cross me again, and I will slap you so hard your own mother won’t recognize you.” Jenna fell silent, looking like a frightened rabbit as she buried her face in Wyatt’s chest and cried. A moment later, the slap was returned. The wedding band on Wyatt’s finger, our wedding band, sliced a long, bloody gash next to my eye. His gaze was cold and furious. “Jenna already told you it was a mistake. It wasn’t on purpose. Can’t you show a little compassion?” “Sienna, are you going through menopause early?” I smiled, took a few steps back, grabbed a plastic chair, and charged, swinging it wildly at his head. Unfortunately, it was only plastic. It wouldn’t kill him. For our entire marriage, I had been the perfect wife: gentle, soft-spoken, accommodating. This was the first time Wyatt had ever seen me lose control. He was so stunned that he just stood there and took the blows. It was Jenna’s screaming and shaking that finally snapped him out of it. Wyatt snatched the chair from my hands, his eyes a mixture of shock and hurt. “You hit me?” “Didn’t you just hit me first?” He looked at the red handprint on my cheek and the cut by my eye, and it finally dawned on him what he had done. But before a flicker of guilt could even register, Jenna started gasping for air, clutching her chest. She claimed the shock had triggered a heart condition. Wyatt swept her into his arms and rushed out. As he passed me, his expression turned back to stone. “I only hit you because you hurt Jenna first. If anything happens to her heart, Sienna, I won’t let you get away with it.” The scene was painfully familiar. Years ago, I was kidnapped by one of his enemies, a time bomb strapped to my chest. He had said the exact same thing to the kidnapper. If anything happens to Sienna, I won’t let you get away with it. That was my first brush with death. The kidnapper left me in an abandoned warehouse. By the time Wyatt found me, there was less than a minute on the timer. I told him to run, but he refused. He held me and said if we were going to die, we’d die together. We kissed as the timer counted down, and in that moment, I knew my life had been worth living. With ten seconds left, we took a gamble and cut a random wire. It was the right one. From that day on, I gave him everything I had, without reservation. I thought our happiness would last a lifetime. A tear rolled down my cheek. I wiped it away. The sweeter the memory, the more bitter the present. I, Sienna Miller, would not be the pitiful woman who cried and begged her cheating husband to stay. When Wyatt came home, I was pruning flowers. He swept the vase off the table, shattering it. “Jenna almost didn’t make it. You are going to go and apologize to her.” “And if I don’t?” I sneered, thinking of her perfectly healthy complexion and terrible acting. My attitude enraged him. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me close. “If you don’t, I will tell everyone about your little ‘rejuvenation’ surgery.” My pupils constricted. I stared into his eyes. There was no love there. Only a desperate need to protect another woman. “Wyatt, do you even love me at all anymore?” His gaze flickered, a strange emotion passing through his eyes. After a long moment, he let me go. “You were in the wrong. I’m just making you take responsibility for your actions.” The last ember of affection I held for our past died out. “Fine. I’ll go.” I pushed open the door to her hospital room. Jenna was lying in bed, looking frail and teary-eyed. When she saw Wyatt, she started sobbing. “Wyatt, I was so scared. I thought I’d never see you again.” He pulled her into his arms, his face full of concern. Seeing me, Jenna trembled with fear. “Miss Miller, are you going to hit me again?” I bowed deeply. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Vance. Although your medical error has permanently disfigured me, I shouldn’t have resorted to violence.” “And I shouldn’t have been jealous that you were embracing my husband. That was petty of me.” “I apologize for frightening you. I will cover all of your hospital bills and expenses.” My pitch-perfect, heartfelt apology completely disarmed her. 3 She snuggled into Wyatt’s arms and nodded magnanimously. “I forgive you, Miss Miller.” A flicker of pity crossed Wyatt’s face. “Jenna, you get some rest. I’ll take her home and then come back to stay with you.” I opened the door and walked out, my expression placid. Wyatt reached for my hand out of habit, but I pulled away. He froze for a second but said nothing. When we got home, I got out of the car. Wyatt called to me from the driver’s seat. “Sienna, let’s just put this behind us. As long as you don’t hurt Jenna again, I can forget what you did.” I didn’t look back. That night, a video shot to the top of the trending charts. In it, I was bowing and sincerely apologizing to Jenna. The internet exploded. 【WTF? A CEO’s wife is being bullied by a mistress like this? This is insane!】 【So a doctor messes up, and the patient has to apologize? What kind of backward world is this? Is this homewrecker the only person on her family tree?】 【And the husband doesn’t even stand up for his wife? He’s cuddling the other woman right in front of her! Scumbag and a slut, I hope they both rot!】 A tidal wave of hate crashed down on Jenna and Wyatt. I watched the reporters swarming the hospital entrance and smiled. I was never afraid of the surgery being exposed. I had been very careful in the hospital room, planting and retrieving a micro-camera with a few swift, seamless movements. My father-in-law’s call came before Wyatt’s. When I answered, I said nothing. After a long silence, I heard his weary, shame-filled sigh on the other end. “If you can’t bring yourself to say it, then I will.” I let out a soft laugh. “The deal we made all those years ago… it still stands, of course.” … Jenna lost her job. Not only was she blacklisted from the entire medical community, but she also became a public pariah. She threw a fit, threatening suicide. Wyatt, worried she might actually do it, brought her home to keep an eye on her. The moment she saw me, Jenna flew into a rage. “You set us up? You pretended to apologize just so you could film it and ruin my reputation online!” “Sienna, so what if you’re a little dark? You’ve always been dark! You’re just a slut with ugly, dark skin!” “Wyatt wouldn’t touch you even if you painted yourself pink! You look like a clown in that lingerie!” So, that’s how he talked about me to her. I looked at Wyatt. His expression was calm. “Jenna is upset. It’s normal for her to want to vent. People are trying to doxx her right now. I’m worried. I need you to…” “Let her stay. I don’t mind.” Wyatt and Jenna were both stunned. I was so calm, it was as if I hadn’t heard a word she’d said. That night, I knocked on Jenna’s door with a glass of water. Her eyes narrowed when she saw me. “Relax. It’s just some water.” I placed the glass on her nightstand. “I’m tired. Seeing how Wyatt protects you, both in public and in private… I know when I’m beat.” “Sienna, I don’t know how much of that is true, but you’re not stupid. You know you can’t win against me.” Jenna looked at the glass of water, a smug, triumphant gleam in her eyes. “Wyatt has loved me since we were kids. If I hadn’t gone abroad and broken his heart, he never would have married you. Do you know why he hasn’t touched you in over a year? Because I came back.” “He never even mentions you to me. He’s afraid it will upset me. But the day you came to my clinic, I knew exactly who you were.” “I mixed up the lightening agent and the tanning solution on purpose. It was a little lesson for you. Don’t be so possessive of another woman’s man! You should be the one to file for divorce!” I nodded, a look of profound sadness on my face, and returned to my room. That night, Wyatt and Jenna were at it for hours. The next morning, Wyatt went to the office, but Jenna didn’t get out of bed. I walked into her room, holding a small bottle, and gently tapped her cheek with my foot. Out like a log. It was evening when Jenna finally woke up. The sound of a mirror shattering and a piercing shriek came from her room. “Sienna! What did you do to me?!”

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I’ve seen ghosts since I was a kid. I couldn’t speak to them, just watch. On our fifth wedding anniversary, I cooked a feast, waiting for Lyra to come home. When I looked up, I saw her ghost. She was curled up in the living room corner, her face a pale, ashen grey, staring intently at me. A chill like ice water drenched me. My hand trembled as I reached for my phone, wanting to call her. Before I could dial, the front door opened. Lyra walked in, embracing me as gently as always. “Sorry, honey, I worked late.” As she held me, I heard her familiar heartbeat, warm and strong. I closed my eyes, telling myself: She’s alive. But when I opened them, the spirit in the corner was still there. My heart sank, a slow, heavy drop. If Lyra was truly gone, then who was this person wearing her skin, holding me? 1 I stared hard at Lyra’s face. I’d looked at that face for twenty years. From elementary school through high school, college to marriage, she’d been by my side every single day. Now, I was seeing a ghost, identical to her, huddled in the corner. I trembled all over, unable to make a sound for a long moment. “Antonio, what’s wrong?” She walked over, her hand gently touching my forehead. “Why are you sweating so much? Are you running a fever?” Her eyes were full of concern, her warm palm resting on my skin. I flinched, stepping back abruptly. The sudden movement knocked over the water glass on the table. Crash! Water spilled everywhere. She froze, her hand suspended in mid-air, looking at me with a bewildered, almost hurt expression. “Antonio? What’s going on?” I forced down the rising panic in my chest. If the ghost in the corner was the real her, then who was this woman in front of me? I couldn’t alert her. I took a deep breath, managing to pull a strained smile onto my face. “It’s nothing,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Come on, let’s eat. The food’s getting cold.” With that, I sat down and served myself a spare rib. She poured me a bowl of soup and then pulled a bottle of red wine from the liquor cabinet. “I’m late today, so I’ll down three glasses as an apology.” I watched the dark red liquid in the glass, then spoke, feigning indifference: “Do you remember that time in high school when you snuck some of your dad’s wine?” I watched her face intently. She paused, then chuckled. “How could I forget? You insisted on trying it, and I couldn’t stop you. You ended up getting completely wasted after two glasses.” “And then?” My grip on the chopsticks tightened, a tremor running through me. “Then you threw up all over me. I took you home, and your mom smelled the booze, thought I’d gotten you drunk, and gave me an earful,” she shook her head. “I didn’t dare say you’d wanted to drink it yourself, so I just took the blame.” My heart clenched. This was a secret only the two of us knew. “What were you wearing that day?” I pressed on. “A white shirt, which you completely ruined. Took ages to wash out,” she smiled, ruffling my hair. “Why the sudden trip down memory lane?” I lowered my gaze, not answering. She even remembered that detail. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the ghost in the corner still watching me, and my unease spiked again. No, it wasn’t enough. I cleared my throat, shifting my gaze back to her, and spoke with a hint of awkwardness. “Today… Dad called. He said he was craving my beggar’s chicken.” She served me another rib. “Alright, I’ll make it tomorrow and take it to him.” “You’ll make it?” I looked up at her. She laughed. “Haven’t I always? You almost burned down the kitchen trying to impress my dad back then. I ended up learning to make it, and even got a few burns on my hands.” “The first time I made it, you mistook salt for sugar. You tasted it, your whole face crumpled up like a prune, but you still insisted it was delicious. I remember thinking, this guy is adorable.” “You even told my dad it was your recipe,” she shook her head. “He bragged about your cooking to everyone, and I never had the heart to expose you.” “Don’t worry, I’ve got this,” she patted my hand. I didn’t say anything more. All the details matched up, yet the ghost was still there. Was I truly losing my mind? No, that was impossible. I’d been born with the Sight; I’d never been wrong about this before. After dinner, she tied on an apron and went into the kitchen. I followed, leaning against the doorframe, watching her closely. Her movements as she prepped the chicken, the way she rubbed in the seasonings, even the sprinkle of salt – it was all exactly as I remembered. The familiar aroma wafted from the kitchen. She turned and smiled at me. “Go sit down. It’ll be ready soon.” I didn’t move. When the beggar’s chicken was placed on the table, I took a bite. The taste was spot on. “Is it good?” She leaned in, her eyes sparkling as she watched me. I nodded. “Yeah, it’s just how I remember it.” She smiled, packed the chicken, and put it in the fridge. Then she took my hand. “Alright, it’s been a long day. Let’s go get some rest.” I leaned against her, feeling her warmth through my clothes, her steady breathing brushing my ear. “Okay.” I closed my eyes. Whether you’re human or ghost, I’m going to find the truth. 2 I followed her into the bedroom. In the corner, the ghost followed too. I averted my gaze, unwilling to look any longer. Lyra made the bed, patting the pillows. “Come on, lie down. You’re tired today, get some rest.” I lay beside her. She reached out and turned off the main light, leaving only a small nightlight on the bedside table. “Antonio,” she turned to face me, “have you been troubled by something lately?” “No,” I stared at the ceiling, “just a bit tired from work.” She took my hand. “If you’re tired, take a break. I’ll take care of us.” Her palm was warm, her voice gentle. My throat tightened. Out of the corner of my eye, I again glimpsed the lonely spirit in the corner. “Do you remember this pen?” I picked up the fountain pen from the bedside table, a classic hero model, its cap slightly worn. She glanced at the pen and chuckled. “Of course I remember. I bought it for your eighteenth birthday. I saved two months’ worth of lunch money for it, bought it at the stationery shop near school. The owner said it was the last one, and I was so afraid someone else would snatch it up.” My heart tightened. She was right. “And do you remember what you wrote on the note when you gave it to me?” I pressed on. “‘You love to write, this pen is for you, Happy Birthday,’” her face flushed slightly. “Actually, I wanted to write ‘I love you,’ but I didn’t dare.” “And how did I respond?” “You didn’t. The next day, you tucked a pack of Milk Duds into my desk. I was so happy I didn’t pay attention in class all day.” I closed my eyes. All true. She pulled off the cap, pointing to the words “Waiting for you” etched on it. “I even scratched my hand with a compass trying to engrave this.” She held out her index finger, a faint mark visible on her fingertip. “So why have you never used this pen?” My voice trembled. “You said you cherished it too much, that you wanted to wait until our wedding day to use it for the invitations.” I took a deep breath, placed the pen back on the nightstand, and lay down, feigning ease. “You have an amazing memory, remembering things from so many years ago.” She smiled, reaching out to ruffle my hair. “How could I forget anything about you?” I lowered my gaze, a thorn piercing my heart. She was right; she remembered everything. But how could she explain the ghost in the corner? I turned onto my side. “Since you have such a good memory,” I stared at her, “let me test you. Do you remember when we went to play by the river as kids?” She thought for a moment. “I remember. That summer was incredibly hot, and you insisted on trying to catch fish.” “Then you fell into the water, and I pulled you out. You were such a dork.” I watched Lyra’s face nervously, afraid of missing any subtle expression. I was the one who had fallen into the water back then, and she had pulled me out. If she agreed with my version, then she was the imposter! She paused, then suddenly tapped my forehead with her index finger. “Are you dreaming? You were the one who fell into the water, and I pulled you out. You choked on quite a bit of water and cried for ages.” I opened my mouth, unable to refute her. “Alright, then. Do you remember the first time we went to the beach?” She looked at me blankly. “We’ve never been to the beach. Did you forget? You always said you wanted to see the ocean, but we never had the time.” A chill ran through me. She was right again. I hadn’t actually been to the beach, I had only said I wanted to go. “Also, when I was little, I had a white cat named Fluffy.” My voice tightened, my tone growing a little agitated. She frowned. “You’ve never had a cat. You were scratched by one when you were twelve, so you’re afraid of them. You avoid them whenever you see one.” I couldn’t utter another word. Every single lie, she accurately saw through. “Sleep now, don’t overthink things.” She pulled the blanket over us, wrapping me in her arms. “You’ve been acting strange today.” I rested my head on her chest, listening to her heartbeat. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “Hm?” “Nothing.” I closed my eyes. She shifted, habitually draping her arm over my waist, pulling me naturally into her embrace, just like always. I opened my eyes and met the gaze of the ghost in the corner. My mind was a tangled mess. Who should I believe? 3 Days passed like this, and I was still completely lost, a heavy stone weighing down my heart. Until one morning, Lyra was adjusting her collar. She looked at me in the mirror. “Didn’t sleep well again last night?” “Nope.” I rubbed my eyes, looking exhausted. “Dreamt all night.” She turned around, her collar now perfectly straight, and came to sit on the edge of the bed. “Antonio, I need to tell you something.” “Yeah?” “I booked a couples trip to the Maldives a while ago, wanting to surprise you,” she took my hand. “But something came up unexpectedly at the lab, and I can’t get away. Why don’t you go first? I’ll join you in three days.” I paused, surprised. She’d never let me travel alone before. “Why so sudden…” “You’ve been so stressed lately,” she said, smiling as she ruffled my hair. “Go relax. I’ll fly out as soon as I’m done with work.” A thought sparked in my mind. This was a perfect opportunity to test her. I nodded. “Okay.” She turned to pack, and I followed, leaning against the doorframe. She pulled out my favorite shirt from the wardrobe, folding it neatly. Then she carefully placed sunscreen, a baseball cap, my usual medication, and even my preferred eye mask, one by one, into the suitcase. “It’s hot there, so pack more light clothes. Don’t catch a chill, make sure to cover up at night,” she rattled on, her hands never stopping. “You have a sensitive stomach, so I put some soda crackers in your bag. Have them if you get hungry.” I watched her busy back, my eyes stinging. She remembered even these tiny details. “Oh, and that book you wanted to read last time? I downloaded it onto your tablet. You can read it on the plane if you get bored.” She turned back and smiled at me. I lowered my gaze. The more thoughtful she was, the more I felt like a scumbag. Seeing me standing by the door, frozen for so long, Lyra waved her hand in front of my face. “Alright, stop dawdling,” she zipped up the suitcase. “I’ll drive you to the airport.” She came and took my hand, pulling me out the door. I glanced back at the spirit in the corner and saw she hadn’t followed, letting out a silent sigh of relief. Good. It must just be my imagination. My eyes must be playing tricks on me. All the way to the airport, Lyra held my hand, making intermittent small talk. I stared out the window, my mind a chaotic mess. At the airport, she helped me check my luggage and then tucked the boarding pass into my hand. “Call me when you land.” “Okay.” She hugged me, resting her chin on my shoulder. “Have fun.” I walked towards security, then turned back. She stood outside the glass doors, waving at me. My nose stung. She was so wonderful, and yet I’d been doubting her all this time. I closed my eyes, silently vowing: This is the last time. I’ll never doubt her again. Once on the plane, I specifically chose a window seat. After takeoff, I gazed out the window, still seeing no sign of the ghost. The heavy stone in my heart finally lifted. It seemed I needed to schedule a check-up soon. Forcing down the lingering unease, I opened the book she had downloaded for me, letting it distract me. Upon landing, I immediately pulled out my phone and sent her a message: “Arrived safely, don’t worry.” She replied instantly: “Have a great time, waiting for you.” I stared at the screen and smiled. 4 The scenery in the Maldives was breathtaking. Every day, I sent her photos – the beach, the sunset, palm trees. She replied instantly to each one, her tone as gentle as ever. During our video call that evening, she was lounging on the sofa, bathed in warm, yellow light. “Where did you go today?” “Went diving,” I said, sprawling on the bed. “When are you coming? It’s no fun alone.” “Soon, soon,” she chuckled. “Didn’t you always want to see the Maldives? You said we had to come here for our honeymoon, I remember that.” I paused. I’d said that casually in college; I’d almost forgotten. “You still remember?” “I told you, how could I forget anything about you?” Her eyes sparkled. My nose stung with emotion. She stood up to get water, and the phone camera jostled. In that split second, I saw a blurry shadow standing in the hallway behind her. The ghost had reappeared. It was staring intently at Lyra, its expression hostile. A cold dread seeped into my bones. “Antonio? What’s wrong?” She returned with her glass of water. “Bad signal,” I forced a smile. “I’m a bit tired today, I’ll hang up.” After ending the call, I tremblingly opened a flight booking app. The next available flight was in three hours. Before boarding, I dialed her number. No answer. My heart plummeted. She never missed my calls! When I landed, it was past midnight. I rushed home. The lights were off. She wasn’t there, and neither was the ghost. I checked her phone’s location, only to find she was at a hospital. I ran out like a madman. The hospital corridor stretched long, the white lights glaring. I found the ward; the door was ajar. She wasn’t inside. But the ghost was standing by the bedside, looking down at the person on the bed. I drew closer. Lying on the bed was someone with a pale face, eyes closed, tubes everywhere. It was Lyra. I trembled, covering my mouth, barely stifling a cry. Just then, footsteps and voices echoed from the end of the corridor. “Dr. Lee, how’s the patient?” It was Lyra’s voice. “Still the same.” Closer and closer. My body felt nailed to the spot, unable to move. I could only stiffly turn my head. And there, coming into view, was a face identical to hers.

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1 The reunion was over. Hannah suddenly said, “Ethan, let’s get a divorce.” I wasn’t surprised. “Even if he’s a complete jerk, you still love him?” Hannah let out a light laugh. “You forget, I’m a jerk too.” Jerks and jerks, a match made in heaven. I chuckled suddenly. “Alright.” A divorce was perfect. The spot she’d vacate was long since spoken for. … Hannah seemed surprised by how readily I agreed. But it was only for a second before she suppressed that subtle flicker of feeling, looking at me calmly. “I’ll bring the papers tomorrow. What’s yours is yours, you won’t lose a penny.” I nodded. “Okay.” “Hannah!” A voice suddenly called from behind. Liam, obviously drunk, stumbled over and threw his arms around her. “Long time no see, sweetheart. All these years, have you missed me?” Hannah didn’t push him away. She even wrapped her arm around his waist, a softness in her eyes I hadn’t seen in our three years of marriage. “Hannah, why aren’t you saying anything?” Liam suddenly looked at me, his eyes hazy, and pointed a finger, cursing. “Hannah, have you fallen for this goody-two-shoes? Guys like him must be dead fish in bed. I used to show you so many tricks back in the day. Can you really stand a dead fish now?” He got louder and louder, finally lunging at me, ready to strike. Hannah caught his wrist, then turned to me. “I’m sorry, he’s drunk.” Even though I was her husband in that moment, her first instinct was to apologize to me for another man. I gave a self-deprecating laugh. “It’s fine, I don’t mind. If there’s nothing else, I’ll head home.” Hannah mumbled, “I’m not coming back tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow.” My footsteps faltered, but I said nothing. Back home, I looked at the marital home we’d shared for three years. From the hopeful anticipation when we first got our license, to the sting of hearing her blurt out Liam’s name during our first time together. Then the pain, the disappointment, when she had a fever and mistook me for Liam. Now, there was only numbness. Ten years. My entanglement with Hannah was finally over. I let out a soft laugh and walked into the bedroom to pack. I didn’t have much stuff; one suitcase was enough. After packing, I lay down, expecting insomnia, but I fell asleep the moment my eyes closed. I even dreamt, for the first time in ages, of seeing Hannah for the first time. Every school had its popular figures. Hannah was the most famous at Northwood High. She was popular, smart, and her only flaw, perhaps, was how often she changed boyfriends. Back then, I disliked people like her, even thought anyone who liked her was crazy. Until that day, when my friends dragged me to watch her long jump. There was a huge crowd, and I was pushed to the very front. I felt uncomfortable and was about to leave. But then, a jacket, smelling of sweet flowers and fruit, landed squarely on my head. I nervously pulled it off, meeting a bright, dazzling face. “Hey, mind holding my jacket?” In that moment, my heart nearly hammered out of my chest. From that day on, I had a secret crush. In junior year, to be in her class, I chose science, a subject I had no interest in. Watching her go through boyfriend after boyfriend, I felt terrible, but had no right to say anything. I just continued with the anonymous love letters, one after another. This went on until just before graduation. I didn’t want to have any regrets, so I wrote a signed love letter, intending to confess to her in person. But when I got to the classroom, I saw her kissing her new boyfriend. The boy stood beside her, blushing. She raised an eyebrow, smiling at me. “Hey, what class are you in? My boyfriend’s shy, mind closing the door?” It was then I realized that with graduation so close, she didn’t even know we were in the same class, let alone my name. The next day, I waited all morning, but Hannah never showed up. I called her dozens of times, but couldn’t get through. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I got up and went to her office. Only to be told Hannah hadn’t come to work. Unusual. A workaholic, not showing up for work. Who it was for was obvious. Suddenly, my phone rang. It was my buddy, Dean. The moment I answered, a furious shout came from the other end. “Ethan! Hannah’s cheating! I just saw some dude taking her to an abortion clinic!” “I’m going to go kill those two dirtbags right now! How dare they do this to you!” “That bitch! That scumbag! I’m going to make him pay!” Beep— Before I could say a word, the call disconnected. Without thinking, I quickly hailed a cab to the hospital. As soon as I reached the entrance of the gynecology department, I heard Dean’s loud voice. “Hannah! You’re a married woman, and now you’re cheating! And you actually brought your side piece to get an abortion in broad daylight!” “And you, you damn jerk, have some shame! Being a homewrecker!” “Today, I’m going to make sure you two dirtbags don’t leave here alive! I’m going to make you both die!” “Bitch! Bitch! Hannah, do you really think Ethan deserves this? After loving you for ten years, after what he did for you…” “Dean!” I rushed in and interrupted him, pulling him back. Seeing Hannah, pale and weak, being held by Liam, I pressed my lips together. “I’m sorry, my friend lost his temper.” Hannah’s tone was icy. “Control him. If he’s ever so careless with his words again, I won’t let it go.” With that, she and Liam left. Dean’s eyes widened instantly. “Ethan! Why are you apologizing to her? She’s the one in the wrong!” I pursed my lips. “Dean, that’s Liam.” Dean froze. I told him everything from the moment the reunion started last night until it ended. After hearing everything, Dean took a deep breath. “So, just because Liam broke up with that woman and came back from abroad, and went to a reunion, Hannah wants to divorce you?” I nodded. “Why the hell?” Dean slammed his hand on a table, his eyes bloodshot. “That guy treated Hannah like dirt, then dumped her, and even hit her with his car, almost killing her. You were the one who saved her, your hand crushed and bloody, so badly you could never hold a scalpel again. You nursed her out of the hospital, stayed by her side. Why does she get to just say ‘I want a divorce’ now?” “No! I’m going to tell her! Even if you divorce, I want her conscience to be plagued with guilt.” I grabbed his arm. “Dean, it’s pointless. Now, I genuinely want this divorce. I’m done loving her.” Dean stared at me intently, as if disbelieving. After all, every time I’d said I was done loving her, I’d ended up eating my words. But this time, I was truly tired. I even felt that Hannah was, well, just Hannah. Saying goodbye to Dean, I asked the nurse for Hannah’s room number. As I approached the door, I heard laughter from inside. “Hannah, I treated you like dirt back then, and then hit you with my ex-girlfriend in the car, and you still love me! Even divorcing that goodie-two-shoes for me!” I froze, looking up at the scene inside. Hannah, her expression consistently gentle towards Liam, said nothing. Liam seemed bored and leaned in to kiss her. Hannah didn’t dodge, wanting to deepen the kiss. But in the next second, Liam pulled away, his lips curled in a mocking sneer. “Hannah, you’re such a slut!” Hannah suddenly grabbed his chin and bit him. The sound of wet kissing filled the room instantly. After who knows how long, Hannah released him, her voice slightly breathless. “Yes, I’m a slut! A slut who fell for you! A slut who loved you year after year.” Year after year? Could a wild child like her even love? I tugged at the corner of my mouth, about to leave. Liam suddenly saw me. He hooked his arm around Hannah. “What about your goodie-two-shoes husband? Don’t you love him? After all, he’s liked you for ten years.” Hannah’s hoarse voice responded, “The goodie-two-shoes is just a fallback for a mess like me. Someone like you, though, you’re my perfect match.” Liam burst out laughing, then lifted his chin. “Hey, your fallback is outside.” Hannah stiffened, turning to look at me. My nails dug into my palm as I forced a smile. “I just came to ask when you can sign the divorce papers.” “Any demands you have, feel free to make them.” Hannah handed me the documents. I flipped to the last page, signed my name, and handed it back to her with a smile. “It’s fine, you wouldn’t screw me over anyway.” Hannah looked at the man’s smile opposite her, finding it inexplicably grating. But wasn’t this exactly what she wanted right now? A divorce, then tying herself to that scumbag, Liam. Hannah shook her head, about to sign her name, when her phone suddenly rang. She murmured an apology and stood up to answer it. I don’t know what was said on the other end, but her face suddenly changed, and she started to walk out. I immediately grabbed the papers and stood up, blocking her way. “Just sign, it’ll only take a few seconds.” Hannah sharply looked up, her dark eyes fixed on me. I kept smiling, maintaining my stance. She took the pen, signed her name with a flourish. “I’ve already contacted the civil affairs office. It’ll take at least seven days to get the divorce certificate.” Seven days. I silently calculated the timing for my wedding with the other woman. It was enough. Back home, I immediately shipped my belongings to Emerald City. By the time I was done, it was evening. Just as I was about to rest, I received a call from the precinct. “Hello, are you Ms. Hannah Anderson’s husband? Your wife has been reported for unlawful restraint. We’d appreciate it if you could come down to the station.” I didn’t want to go, but we weren’t officially divorced yet. Fine, one last time. When I arrived, I saw Hannah’s face was grim, and beside her sat a smirking Liam. Seeing me, an officer immediately stepped forward. “Do you know this gentleman? He claims Ms. Anderson imprisoned him and that he was recaptured after escaping, with attempts to assault him in the car.” Before I could speak, Hannah suddenly interjected, “He’s my fiancé. There’s no imprisonment or assault. We’re in a legitimate relationship.” With that, she suddenly pulled out a yellowed but well-preserved piece of paper. On it was Liam’s promise, written the year they first got together, right after high school graduation. She had kept it perfectly, even carried it close to her heart. It showed just how much she loved him. The officer’s eyes widened. “But isn’t Mr. Carter your husband?” I gave a strained smile. “We’re already divorced. We just haven’t received the certificate yet.” In the end, it turned out to be a misunderstanding. By the time we left the police station, it was deep into the night. Hannah went to get the car. Only Liam and I remained. He looked at me, then suddenly laughed. “Ethan, you haven’t changed all these years, still fawning over Hannah as always.” I said nothing. Liam continued, “Do you want to know why Hannah likes me?” He suddenly leaned closer. “Because the person she should like is you.” I froze. Liam went on, “She received so many love letters back then, but she only kept yours. At first, I didn’t know it was you who wrote them, until one time, during recess, I came back early and saw you putting a letter into her locker that was identical to the purple envelopes she kept.” “Later, after you threw that confession letter into the trash, I picked it up. On graduation day, I crossed out your name, wrote mine, and confessed to her. She agreed, even told me those letters were interesting and she liked them a lot. That’s how we got together. That wild child even settled down for me.” I stood rigid, from head to toe. Liam’s laugh grew even more arrogant. “I went through all those letters you wrote to her later. They were pretty interesting, actually. You remembered what she liked to eat, what she liked to drink, even what she did every day, like a diary. Oh, and one more thing,” “After college, you heard Hannah and I broke up, so you mustered the courage to pursue her. Too bad, she immediately sent me the chat history and asked me to reply to you on her behalf. All those ambiguous messages during those two years? I sent them, deliberately leading you on. You have no idea how much fun I had watching you dance around for me.” “Later, Hannah and I broke up and got back together repeatedly. Even during that time, reports surfaced of me with different women in hotels, and she never said a word.” “Ethan, ultimately, I have to thank you. You’re the one who made a wild child settle down and fall in love with me.” I was chilled to the bone, unable to utter a single word. Just then, Liam’s eyes suddenly darkened. He grabbed my hand and slapped himself across the face. “Ah!” Before I could react, an even harder slap landed on my face. Followed by Hannah’s icy voice: “Ethan, are you asking for trouble?” She didn’t ask a single question, immediately siding with Liam. Watching Liam’s triumphant smirk, I clutched my burning cheek, then took one last, long look at Hannah. “Hannah, you’re right. You truly are a jerk too.” I turned and left, packing my things as fast as I could and returning to Emerald City that very day. Three days later, I saw a wedding invitation on social media. It was for Hannah and Liam. And my wedding was on the same day as hers.

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1 The class reunion was winding down. Jalen suddenly turned to me. “Luna, let’s get a divorce.” I didn’t flinch. “Even if she’s completely rotten, you still love her?” Jalen bit down on his cigarette, letting out a sardonic chuckle. “You forget, I’m just as rotten.” Rotten souls, a perfect match. I forced a smile. “Fine.” A divorce was perfect. That empty space would be filled by someone else, someone who’d been waiting. … Jalen seemed surprised by my quick agreement. But it was only a split second before he suppressed that flicker of emotion, looking at me with a calm gaze. “I’ll send the papers tomorrow. You’ll get everything you’re owed, not a penny less.” I nodded. “Alright.” “Jalen!” A voice suddenly called from behind us. Ella, clearly tipsy, stumbled over and threw her arms around him. “Long time no see, handsome. All these years, have you missed me?” Jalen didn’t push her away. He even wrapped an arm around her waist, a tenderness in his eyes I’d never seen in our three years of marriage. “Jalen, you bastard, why aren’t you saying anything?” Ella’s eyes, clouded by drink, suddenly fixed on me. She pointed a finger and started shouting. “Jalen, have you fallen for this good girl? Girls like her must be dead fish in bed. I showed you so many tricks back in the day, can you really stand a dead fish now?” Her voice grew louder and louder, until finally, she lunged at me, ready to strike. Jalen caught her wrist, pulling her into his arms, then turned to me. “I’m sorry, she’s drunk.” Even though I was his wife in that moment, his first instinct was to apologize to me for another woman. I let out a self-deprecating laugh. “It’s fine, I don’t mind. If there’s nothing else, I’ll head home.” Jalen just hummed in response. “I won’t be back tonight. I’ll find you tomorrow.” My steps faltered, but I said nothing. Back home, I looked around the apartment we’d shared as a married couple for three years. From the hopeful anticipation when we first tied the knot, to the pang of hurt when he blurted out Ella’s name during our first time together. Then the agony, the disappointment, when he had a fever and mistook me for Ella. Now, only numbness remained. Ten years. My complicated dance with Jalen was finally over. I chuckled softly and went into the bedroom to pack. I didn’t have much. One suitcase was enough. After packing, I lay on the bed, expecting to stare at the ceiling, but I fell asleep the moment my eyes closed. I even dreamt, for the first time in ages, of seeing Jalen for the very first time. Every school had its popular figures. Jalen was Northwood High’s most talked-about. He was charming, good at everything, but his one flaw was probably how often he swapped girlfriends. Back then, I hated people like him, even thought anyone who fell for him was foolish. Until that day, when my friends dragged me to watch him long jump. The crowd was huge. I was shoved to the very front. I felt overwhelmed, about to leave. But then, an instant later, a jacket smelling faintly of cologne landed on my head. I frantically pulled it off, my eyes meeting a roguish grin. “Hey, mind holding my jacket for a sec?” In that moment, my heart felt like it would burst from my chest. From that day on, I harbored a secret crush. In junior year, to be in his class, I chose science, a subject I had no interest in whatsoever. Watching him move from one girlfriend to the next, it pained me, but I had no right to say anything. I just kept going with the flow, writing one anonymous love letter after another. This continued until just before graduation. I didn’t want to have any regrets, so I wrote a signed love letter, intending to confess to him in person. But when I got to the classroom, I saw him kissing his new girlfriend. The girl, blushing, hid her face in his arms. He leaned back, raising an eyebrow, smiling at me. “Hey, what class are you in? My girlfriend’s shy, mind closing the door for us?” It was then I realized that with graduation so close, he didn’t even know we were in the same class, let alone my name. The next day, I waited all morning, but Jalen never showed up. I called him dozens of times, but couldn’t get through. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I got up and went to his office. Only to be told Jalen hadn’t come to work. Unusual. A workaholic, not showing up for work. Who it was for was obvious. Suddenly, my phone rang. It was my best friend, Anya. The moment I answered, a furious shout came from the other end. “Luna! That bastard Jalen is cheating! I swear to God, I just saw Jalen taking some woman to an abortion clinic!” “I’m going to go kill those two lowlifes right now! How dare they do this to you!” “That cheap tramp! That disgusting jerk! I’m going to make him suffer!” Beep— Before I could utter a single word, the call disconnected. Without another thought, I quickly hailed a cab to the hospital. As soon as I reached the entrance of the Women’s Health department, I heard Anya’s booming voice. “Jalen! You’re a married man, and you’re cheating! You actually brought your mistress to get an abortion in broad daylight!” “And you, you shameless hussy, have some self-respect! You’re a homewrecker!” “Today, I’m going to make sure you two lowlifes don’t leave here alive! I hope you both rot!” “Bitch! Whore! Jalen, how could you do this to Luna after she loved you for ten years? After everything she did for you…” “Anya!” I rushed in and cut her off, pulling her away. Seeing Jalen, his face grim, holding a pale and fragile Ella, I pressed my lips together. “I’m sorry, my friend lost her temper.” Jalen’s tone was icy. “Control her. If she’s ever so careless with her words again, I won’t let it go.” With that, he picked up Ella and left. Anya’s eyes widened instantly. “Luna! Why are you apologizing to him? He’s the one who’s wrong!” I pursed my lips. “Anya, that’s Ella.” Anya froze. I told her everything, from the beginning of the reunion last night to its end. Anya listened to everything, then took a deep breath. “So, just because Ella broke up with that guy and came back from abroad, and went to a reunion, Jalen wants to divorce you?” I nodded. “Why the hell?” Anya slapped the table, her eyes blazing red. “That woman treated Jalen like dirt, then dumped him, and even hit him with her car, almost killing him. You were the one who saved him, your hand crushed and bloody, so badly you could never hold a scalpel again. You nursed him out of the hospital, stayed by his side. Why does he get to just say ‘I want a divorce’ now?” “No! I’m going to tell him! Even if you divorce, I want his conscience to be plagued with guilt.” I grabbed her arm. “Anya, it’s pointless. Now, I genuinely want this divorce. I’m done loving him.” Anya stared at me intently, as if disbelieving. After all, every time I’d said I was done loving him, I’d ended up eating my words. But this time, I was truly tired. I even felt that Jalen, well, he wasn’t all that special. After saying goodbye to Anya, I asked the nurse for Ella’s room number. As soon as I reached the door, I heard laughter from inside. “Jalen, I treated you like dirt back then, and then hit you with my ex-boyfriend in the car, and you still love me! You even divorced that good girl for me, and you’re here with me getting rid of my ex-boyfriend’s baby!” I froze, looking up at the scene inside. Jalen’s expression remained gentle as he fed her porridge, not saying a word. Ella seemed bored and leaned in to kiss him. Jalen didn’t dodge, wanting to deepen the kiss. But in the next second, Ella pulled away, her lips curled in a mocking sneer. “Jalen, you’re so pathetic!” Jalen suddenly grabbed her chin and bit her. The sound of wet kissing filled the room instantly. After who knows how long, Jalen released her, his voice slightly breathless. “Yeah, I’m pathetic! Pathetic enough to fall for you! Pathetic enough to love you year after year.” Year after year? Could a rogue like him even love? I tugged at the corner of my mouth, about to leave. Ella suddenly saw me. She hooked her arm around Jalen. “What about your good girl wife? Don’t you love her? After all, she’s liked you for ten years.” Jalen’s hoarse voice responded, “The good girl is just a stepping stone for a mess like me. Someone like you, though, you’re my perfect match.” Ella burst out laughing, then lifted her chin. “Look, your stepping stone is outside.” Jalen stiffened, turning to look at me. My nails dug into my palm as I forced a smile. “I just came to ask when you can sign the divorce papers.” “Any demands you have, feel free to make them.” Jalen handed me the documents. I flipped to the last page, signed my name, and handed it back to him with a smile. “It’s fine, you wouldn’t screw me over anyway.” Jalen looked at the woman’s smile opposite him, finding it inexplicably grating. But wasn’t this exactly what he wanted right now? A divorce, then tying himself to that rotten Ella. Jalen shook his head, about to sign his name, when his phone suddenly rang. He murmured an apology and stood up to answer it. I don’t know what was said on the other end, but his face suddenly changed, and he started to walk out. I immediately grabbed the papers and stood up, blocking his way. “Just sign, it’ll only take a few seconds.” Jalen sharply looked up, his dark eyes fixed on me. I kept smiling, maintaining my stance. He took the pen, signed his name with a flourish. “I’ve already contacted the civil affairs office. It’ll take at least seven days to get the divorce certificate.” Seven days. I silently calculated the timing for my wedding with the other man. It was enough. Back home, I immediately shipped my belongings to Emerald City. By the time I was done, it was evening. Just as I was about to rest, I received a call from the police station. “Hello, are you Mr. Jalen Bianchi’s wife? Your husband has been reported for imprisonment and assault. We’d appreciate it if you could come down to the station.” I didn’t want to go, but we weren’t officially divorced yet. Fine, one last time. When I arrived, I saw Jalen’s face was grim, and beside him sat a smirking Ella. Seeing me, an officer immediately stepped forward. “Do you know this lady? She claims Mr. Bianchi imprisoned her, that she was recaptured after escaping, and that there were attempts to assault her in the car.” Before I could speak, Jalen suddenly interjected, “She’s my fiancée. There’s no imprisonment or assault. We’re in a legitimate relationship.” With that, he suddenly pulled out a yellowed but well-preserved piece of paper. On it was Ella’s promise, written the year they first got together, right after high school graduation. He had kept it perfectly, even carried it close to his heart. It showed just how much he liked her. The officer’s eyes widened. “But isn’t Ms. Luna Carter your wife?” I gave a strained smile. “We’re already divorced. We just haven’t received the certificate yet.” In the end, it turned out to be a misunderstanding. By the time we left the police station, it was deep into the night. Jalen went to get the car. Only Ella and I remained. She looked at me, then suddenly laughed. “Luna, you haven’t changed all these years, still fawning over Jalen as always.” I said nothing. Ella continued, “Do you want to know why Jalen likes me?” She suddenly leaned closer. “Because the person he should like is you.” I froze. Ella went on, “He received so many love letters back then, but he only kept yours. At first, I didn’t know it was you who wrote them, until one time, during recess, I came back early and saw you putting a letter into his locker that was identical to the purple envelopes he kept.” “Later, after you threw that confession letter into the trash, I picked it up. On graduation day, I crossed out your name, wrote mine, and confessed to him. He agreed, even told me those letters were interesting and he liked them a lot. That’s how we got together. That wild man even settled down for me.” I stood rigid, from head to toe. Ella’s laugh grew even more arrogant. “I went through all those letters you wrote to him later. They were pretty interesting, actually. You remembered what he liked to eat, what he liked to drink, even what he did every day, like a diary. Oh, and one more thing,” “After college, you heard Jalen and I broke up, so you mustered the courage to pursue him. Too bad, he immediately sent me the chat history and asked me to reply to you on his behalf. All those ambiguous messages during those two years? I sent them, deliberately leading you on. You have no idea how much fun I had watching you dance around for me.” “Later, Jalen and I broke up and got back together repeatedly. Even during that time, reports surfaced of him with different women in hotels, and he never said a word.” “Luna, ultimately, I have to thank you. You’re the one who made a wild man settle down and fall in love with me.” I was chilled to the bone, unable to utter a single word. Just then, Ella’s eyes suddenly darkened. She grabbed my hand and slapped herself across the face. “Ah!” Before I could react, an even harder slap landed on my face. Followed by Jalen’s icy voice: “Luna, are you asking for trouble?” He didn’t ask a single question, immediately siding with Ella. Watching Ella’s triumphant smirk, I clutched my burning cheek, then took one last, long look at Jalen. “Jalen, you’re right. You truly are a jerk too.” I turned and left, packing my things as fast as I could and returning to Emerald City that very day. Three days later, I saw a wedding invitation on social media. It was for Jalen and Ella. And my wedding was on the same day as his.

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1 The moment my neighbor and supposed best friend found out I had forty-five thousand dollars loaded on my VIP spa account, she came hunting for me. “Danica, I just did the most amazing thing!” Penny burst through my front door, eyes shining with manic excitement. “I took all the stray dogs in our neighborhood for a luxury essential oil spa day!” She clapped her hands together. “Over twenty dogs. A fifteen-hundred-dollar premium package for each of them. Aren’t I just the best?” I blinked, genuinely caught off guard. Penny was the neighborhood’s resident clout-chasing saint. She loved playing the philanthropist online, but she never spent a single dime of her own money. Her entire charity model relied on guilt-tripping others into opening their wallets. Since when did she have a change of heart? Unless she used my membership card to give a pack of feral dogs a luxury blowout. I leaned back against the plush velvet of my sofa. I kept my voice entirely neutral. “Penny, did you sign my name on that service invoice?” She froze for a split second before rolling her eyes, her tone dripping with impatience. “Well, duh! If I gave them my name, they wouldn’t know who I was. Anyway, just let them deduct it from your account balance. I gotta go!” She spun on her heels, ready to strut out the door like she owned the place. I took a slow sip of my black coffee. Just a few hours ago, the receptionist at the spa had stopped her with a single question, and it had sent her into a panic. “Danica,” Penny had asked me yesterday, her voice overly casual. “How much is left on that Obsidian card of yours at the luxury spa?” I had glanced at her, my voice perfectly calm. “About forty-five thousand. Why?” Hearing that number, Penny sucked in a sharp breath. Her eyes darted around like a slot machine. “Oh my god, I always knew you were loaded! That kind of money is nothing to you. Just the price of a couple of designer bags.” She leaned in close, lowering her voice, and slapped on a look of profound, agonizing pity. “Danica, have you seen that pack of stray dogs hanging around the community park?” “They break my heart. Absolutely skin and bones. Their fur is completely matted with filth.” “Especially that little black one with the limp. The way he looked at me last night… it was like a cry for help.” Penny was notorious in our gated community. Her absolute favorite hobby was posting tragic animal rescue videos on her Instagram stories, always accompanied by three-paragraph essays about kindness and empathy. But if you actually asked her to drop ten bucks on a bag of kibble, she would suddenly have a thousand excuses. She sighed heavily, forcing her eyes to water. “I’m just too soft-hearted. I can’t stand seeing innocent creatures suffer.” “If I could just get them a full-body essential oil treatment, scrub away all those fleas and grime…” “Get them a professional groom so they look adorable. I just know they’d get adopted by good families immediately!” I set my coffee cup down on the glass table, completely unfazed. “A spa trip will definitely make them smell nice. But what strays actually need is solid food and rabies vaccines.” Penny scowled. She hated it when I ruined her aesthetic fantasies with logic. “Food and shelter are just baseline survival! They deserve dignity, Danica!” “I’ve made up my mind. Tomorrow, I’m giving them a total makeover. I’m doing something truly beautiful.” “There’s over twenty of them. This is going to be incredibly rewarding.” She was practically buzzing with excitement, clearly already picturing the viral TikTok fame and the flood of adoring comments. “Alright, I can’t waste any more time chatting. I need to map out my rescue route for tomorrow.” “Just you wait, Danica. You’re going to see me shine!” She hummed a trendy pop song and practically skipped out of my house. Sitting in my living room, the memory of that conversation felt incredibly wrong. Penny was the kind of cheapskate who would stall at the cash register of a convenience store just to force me to pay for her popsicle. There was absolutely no way she had a sudden stroke of generosity to drop tens of thousands of dollars on stray dogs out of her own pocket. And why had she specifically asked about the balance on my Obsidian card? Lumina Spa was the most exclusive, high-end grooming club in the city, catering to both elite socialites and their pampered pets. Even their most basic wash-and-fluff cost hundreds of dollars. My stomach dropped. I immediately grabbed my phone and dialed the general manager of Lumina Spa. “Harrison, what is the current payment authorization on my Obsidian card?” “Miss Montgomery,” Manager Harrison’s polite voice came through the receiver. “Your card holds our highest VIP tier. Currently, charges are authorized purely via your signature.” I let out a cold, sharp laugh. I knew it. “Change the security settings on my account immediately.” “From this second forward, a signature is no longer enough. I want dual-factor authentication enabled. Facial recognition and fingerprint scan.” Harrison paused, clearly surprised, but his impeccable customer service training kicked in instantly. “Understood, Miss Montgomery. I am updating the system parameters right now.” I looked out the window at the gathering storm clouds, my voice dropping to a serious octave. “Mark my words, Harrison. Unless I am physically standing in your lobby to approve it, absolutely no one is allowed to deduct a single cent from that account. I don’t care who they claim to be.” “You have my word,” Harrison replied with absolute gravity. “With the system locked, no one can bypass your biometric verification to access those funds.” I hung up the phone and opened Instagram. Penny’s profile picture was a heavily filtered selfie of her hugging a dirty street dog. Her bio read: Always leading with love. 2 The next morning, the moment I pulled back my curtains, I heard a massive commotion down on the street. I opened my phone. Penny had already spammed her story with ten different updates. The newest post was a live video. In the frame, she was dressed head-to-toe in pristine white designer athleisure, wearing surgical gloves and a chic black face mask. Trailing behind her was a chaotic, filthy parade of over twenty stray mutts, taking over the entire sidewalk. The caption read: An angel on earth! I couldn’t bear to see these fur babies suffer another day. Taking them all for a luxury spa experience! Praying that once they wash away the street grime, they’ll all find their forever homes! The comment section was already a waterfall of praise. “Penny is literally an angel! We don’t deserve her!” “Over twenty dogs? Omg, that must cost an absolute fortune. You are so selfless.” “Get this girl a Nobel Peace Prize right now!” Penny pinned a comment to the top of the chat, adding a prayer hands emoji. “For these babies, I’d willingly empty my bank account.” Reading that sentence made my stomach churn. The sheer audacity of this woman was mind-blowing. Her history of weaponizing morality to rob people blind was legendary in our neighborhood. Just last month, the Homeowners Association organized a fundraiser for underprivileged kids. Penny grabbed a megaphone, planted herself at the front gates, and publicly cornered Martha, the elderly woman who cleaned our community dumpsters. Martha barely made minimum wage, but Penny relentlessly bullied her into donating a full month’s paycheck. “Martha, if you just skip buying meat for a few weeks, a child in need gets to eat warm meals!” Penny had yelled through the megaphone. “How can you be so heartless?” Publicly humiliated and driven to tears, Martha ended up handing over a hundred dollars she desperately needed for rent. Meanwhile, Penny didn’t donate a single cent. Yet, because she “organized” the drive, the HOA awarded her the title of Charity Ambassador. Then there was the time Mr. Henderson’s grandson fell terribly ill. The poor old man set up a GoFundMe to cover the medical bills. Penny hijacked the link, spamming it in every group chat she could find. She demanded everyone post screenshots of their donation receipts. If anyone failed to post one, she would tag them relentlessly, calling them cold-blooded monsters. Curious, Mr. Henderson eventually checked the backend of the fundraiser. Penny’s total contribution? One single cent. When confronted, she brushed it off. “The size of the donation doesn’t matter. It’s about raising awareness.” But her absolute worst offense involved feral cats. She would trap stray cats around the neighborhood and casually toss them over the fences into the ground-floor patios of other residents. Then, she would march up to their doors and demand they purchase imported, premium cat food to feed them. Every single afternoon, she would stand outside their fences, taking pictures of the cats eating the food the homeowners bought, and post it online to harvest likes and sympathy. I locked my screen, changed into a comfortable sweater, and headed downstairs for a walk. The moment I stepped into the courtyard, I practically collided with Brenda, the community’s most vocal busybody. Brenda was dragging her oversized Poodle along on a sparkly leash. The second she saw me, her face split into a massive, gossipy grin. “Oh my goodness, Danica! Your friend Penny is an absolute saint!” She gave me a thumbs-up, her heavy makeup creasing. “I just watched her round up every single stray dog in the neighborhood.” “I heard she took them to that ultra-fancy Lumina Spa. They’re getting the premium package! That’s like, a thousand bucks a pop!” I stopped in my tracks, feigning perfect shock. “A thousand each? For almost thirty dogs, that’s thirty grand. Where on earth did she get that kind of cash?” Brenda leaned in close, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Well, that’s the secret, isn’t it? Penny told me she wasn’t paying out of pocket.” “She said she has a filthy rich best friend who offered to fully sponsor this beautiful act of charity.” Brenda looked me up and down, a calculating gleam in her eyes. “Danica, you don’t happen to be that filthy rich best friend, do you?” I stared her down, my expression turning to ice. “I certainly don’t have that kind of money to throw around playing savior.” Brenda scoffed, clearly disappointed she didn’t get the juicy scoop she wanted. “Right, figured. You’ve always been pretty tight with your cash. You even complain about the HOA fees. You don’t have Penny’s big heart.” “But Penny swore up and down she had it in the bag today. Said she had absolute, guaranteed funding.” I didn’t bother arguing with her. I turned my back and walked straight toward the quiet gazebo by the pond. Once I sat down, I pulled out my phone and dialed Lumina Spa again. “Manager Harrison. Has anyone tried to charge my card today?” The background noise on the other end was absolute chaos. A chorus of barking and yelping echoed through the phone. “Yes, Miss Montgomery. Your associate, Penny, brought twenty-eight stray dogs into the salon. We are currently administering the premium essential oil packages.” “She claimed she had your full authorization and instructed us to bill everything to your Obsidian card.” I watched Brenda’s Poodle hike its leg against a pristine rosebush nearby. “Remember what I told you yesterday. I don’t care what she says. Without my facial recognition, you do not authorize a single dime.” Harrison’s tone was rock solid. “Rest assured. The system is entirely locked down. We only answer to your biometric approval.” 3 Penny had fired up a TikTok Live right in the middle of the luxury pet salon. Her stream title was written in massive, bold letters: Going Broke to Save the Fur Babies! Digital Angel Live Rescue. I tapped into the stream. The screen displayed a scene of absolute, chaotic opulence. Over a dozen professional groomers in sleek black uniforms were scrambling around, trying to wrangle twenty-eight feral, panicked dogs. Penny was strutting through the salon with a selfie stick, casually panning the camera over the shelves of exorbitant grooming products. “Guys, look at this! French rose absolute oil. A tiny bottle of this costs three hundred dollars alone!” “We’re only using the absolute highest tier of care for our babies today.” She shoved the camera into the face of a scruffy terrier that was currently pinned down for a massage. “Look at him! He’s melting, he feels so good.” “He used to dig through rotting trash for scraps, and today, he finally knows what it feels like to be truly loved.” The chat was exploding with adoration. “Penny is a literal goddess! I’m sobbing rn.” “This is what real charity looks like. Putting your money where your mouth is.” “Penny, you’re dropping a fortune! How are you going to pay rent?” Penny stared at her screen, letting a single, perfectly timed tear slip down her cheek. “It’s okay, guys. It’s incredibly expensive, but to give them a shot at a real home… I’ll empty my savings!” “As long as they’re clean and happy, I’ll happily eat instant ramen for the rest of the year!” I lounged sideways on my couch, watching her perform this nauseating martyrdom. A harsh laugh escaped my lips. Eat ramen? This was a girl who constantly begged me to cover the extra fifty cents on her UberEats delivery fees. After several hours of sheer pandemonium, the twenty-eight dogs were finally done. Their matted clumps of fur were now silky and blown out, the entire pack smelling like a botanical garden. Manager Harrison stepped right into the frame of her live stream, holding a sleek leather folio. “Miss Penny, the premium luxury packages for all twenty-eight dogs are complete.” “Additionally, due to several dogs becoming distressed during the bathing process, two of our imported Italian leather sofas were severely damaged.” “The total comes out to forty thousand dollars. Will you be paying by card or wire transfer?” The live chat froze completely for one agonizing second before scrolling at light speed. “FORTY THOUSAND?! That’s highway robbery!” “Penny, don’t pay that! Sue them!” But Penny didn’t flinch. In fact, a smug, triumphant smirk played on her lips. She waved her hand at the camera, playing the calm pacifier. “Everyone, relax. Lumina is an elite establishment. These are their standard rates.” “For the fur babies, this is just a drop in the bucket!” With that, she carefully propped her phone up against a display stand, making absolutely sure the camera had a clear, dramatic angle of her settling the bill. She grabbed the gold fountain pen, didn’t even glance at the itemized receipt, and flourished a dramatic signature at the bottom. Danica Montgomery. She slid the leather folio back toward Harrison, turning to deliver her heartfelt closing monologue to her viewers. “Alright guys, our massive rescue op is a wrap! Let’s get these babies home!” She took exactly two steps toward the door before Harrison’s arm shot out, blocking her path. “I apologize, Miss Penny. You cannot leave.” Penny paused, a deep, irritated frown forming on her perfectly contoured face. “Excuse me? I signed the slip. Just run the damn card.” Harrison looked down at her, his posture perfectly rigid. “System alert. Miss Danica Montgomery’s Obsidian card has been upgraded to maximum security protocol.” “A signature alone is insufficient for payment processing.” The color rapidly drained from Penny’s face. “What are you talking about? I’ve used it a million times, I just sign her name!” Harrison maintained his flawless, customer-service smile. “Current protocols require Miss Montgomery’s biometric facial recognition or fingerprint scan to complete this transaction.” “I have just sent a remote payment authorization request directly to Miss Montgomery’s mobile device.” Right on cue, my phone screen illuminated. A sleek pop-up notification from Lumina Spa appeared. Payment Request: $40,000.00. Without a millisecond of hesitation, I slammed my thumb down on the red Decline button. “I’m afraid there’s a problem, Miss Penny,” Harrison said, glancing down at his tablet. “Miss Montgomery has explicitly denied your payment request.”

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1 “Be good. When I’m back from my shift, we’re getting married.” My girlfriend was a fire captain; after seven years together, we were finally engaged. The night before our wedding, a massive fire left her severely burned. She fell into a coma after rushing into a collapsing building to save a boy. “Dylan, you’re young—don’t waste your life waiting,” her parents begged me to end it. I refused, quit my high-paying job, and cared for her day and night for three painful years. Our town called me the devoted partner of legend. Until she woke. Claiming amnesia, she remembered only Tedd, the boy she’d saved. She glared at me with suspicion, saving all her warmth for him. “Who are you? Why are you in my room?” A news alert lit my phone: her hospital discharge, live—where she proposed to Tedd. “Tedd, I want to forget the past. I only want a life with you.” I looked at her empty bed and the torn engagement agreement. With a bitter laugh, I tallied three years of medical bills, nursing fees, and lost wages, then sent her everything—itemized—with my lawyer’s note: “Captain Garrison. Seven years together, three years of care. With damages and lost income, you owe me $2.1 million. Amnesia doesn’t erase debts.” Less than ten minutes after the text was sent, my front door was practically being pounded off its hinges. I took my time finishing my morning coffee before getting up to open it. Rebecca’s entire family stood on my porch. Rebecca herself was fiercely shielding a fragile looking Tedd in her arms. “Dylan! Do you have a soul?! Rebecca just got out of the hospital and you are harassing her with this insane bill?!” Her father’s voice was shrill. He raised a hand, fully intending to slap me across the face. I did not flinch. I just tapped my phone screen to wake it up and held it in his line of sight. “Mr. Garrison, my porch cameras are rolling. I really do not mind putting you on the local evening news if you swing.” His hand froze in midair. He was shaking with blind rage. “What is this garbage you sent my daughter? Over two million dollars? Why don’t you just rob a bank!” I looked at him with dead eyes. “Robbery is a felony. Collecting a legally documented debt is not.” “Every single cent on that invoice is money I spent keeping Rebecca alive. I have the receipts.” “That includes the money I got from selling my late parents’ house, my entire life savings, and the salary I forfeited over the last three years.” “You are full of shit!” Mr. Garrison pointed a trembling finger at me. “You took care of her voluntarily! Now that she is awake, you are trying to extort us!” Right on cue, Tedd put on a masterclass in playing the victim. He gently tugged at Rebecca’s sleeve, looking up with wide, innocent eyes. “Rebecca, maybe Dylan is just confused. That is so much money. How could we ever pay that back?” Rebecca finally spoke. The way she looked at me was like she was scraping dirt off her shoe. She actually thought I was using this as a pathetic excuse to win her back. I chuckled. “Captain Garrison, the invoice is crystal clear. 2.1 million. I am not negotiating a single penny.” “This condo you are living in. You paid the down payment, but I paid the mortgage entirely by myself for the last three years. We can value it at 200,000 dollars to offset your tab.” “That leaves 1.9 million. You have exactly three days.” “Dylan!” Mrs. Garrison shrieked. “Do not push us! Rebecca does not even remember who you are. What is the point of stalking her like this?” “I am not stalking anyone. I am collecting what I am owed.” I leaned against the doorframe, taking in the pathetic sight of this family. “Oh, I almost forgot to mention. When we bought this place, Rebecca insisted my name go on the deed. So I am going to need you all to get the hell out of my house.” Mr. Garrison’s face turned the color of a bruised plum. “You calculating bastard! You planned this all along!” He lunged at me. I was ready. I sidestepped smoothly. He missed entirely and slammed shoulder first into the wall. Rebecca instantly caught her dad, steadying him before whipping her head to glare at me. Her voice was thick with suppressed fury. “Dylan, do you really have to be this ruthless?” Looking at her acting like a human shield for her family and her little boy toy, I realized my entire youth had been a complete joke. “Ruthless? I could never compete with you, Captain.” “If I do not see the money in three days, you will be hearing from a judge.” I did not wait for a response. I slammed the door right in their faces. I could hear Mr. Garrison cursing and Tedd whimpering outside. It was just white noise to me now. 2 I walked into the bedroom and opened the closet. My tailored wedding suit was still hanging there in its plastic cover. I grabbed the hanger, ripped it down, and tossed the whole thing into the trash can. First thing the next morning, I booked a real estate agent for a viewing. The apartment was in a prime location with high end renovations. It was going to sell fast. The agent had barely left when my phone rang. It was Rebecca. “Dylan, are you really selling the house?” Her voice sounded exhausted. “What else would I do? Keep it as a honeymoon suite for you and Tedd?” Silence hung heavy on the line. “I will figure out the money. But you cannot sell that house. My dad…” “Your dad picked it out, I know,” I cut her off. “But I paid the mortgage, and my name is on the deed. Legally and morally, it belongs to me.” “What do you actually want from me?” “I want my money.” I hung up. I was done wasting my breath on her. That afternoon, while I was packing my boxes, the doorbell rang again. I assumed it was the Garrison family back for round two. When I opened the door, I found Tedd standing there alone. His eyes were bloodshot. He looked like a fragile, shivering puppy. “Dylan,” he said timidly. I blocked the doorway, making it absolutely clear he was not stepping inside. “What do you want?” “I came to apologize on behalf of Rebecca.” His eyes welled up with tears on command. “She does not mean to be cruel. She is just sick. She does not remember anything. Please do not blame her.” “And your point is?” “We really cannot afford that kind of money.” He bit his lower lip, looking like he was about to shatter into a million pieces. “Dylan, I know you suffered a lot over the past three years. I want to thank you for taking care of her. Could you please give us more time? Or maybe, ask for a little less?” “Every cent I spent is meticulously documented. The emotional distress and lost wages were calculated by a professional attorney. Which exact charge do you feel is unreasonable?” Tedd went pale. “That is not what I meant. I just feel like, considering our shared history…” A sharp voice cut him off before he could finish. “Tedd!” Rebecca came storming out of the elevator. She grabbed Tedd and pulled him behind her back, glaring at me like I was a predator. “Why are you bothering him again? I told you never to see him alone!” Tedd shook his head, looking pitiful. “Rebecca, I just wanted to talk things out with Dylan. I hate seeing you so stressed.” Rebecca gently stroked his hair, her eyes softening for a second before snapping back to me, cold and hard. “Dylan, I am warning you. Do not touch him.” I actually laughed out loud. “Rebecca, did you forget that I dragged you back from the gates of hell three years ago?” “Now you are taking my money to fund your little boy toy, and you have the nerve to warn me?” That hit a raw nerve. Her face contorted. “That fire… I am incredibly sorry. But I did not choose for this to happen.” “But you chose to forget me. And you chose him. Right?” She did not answer, but her dead silence was all the confirmation I needed. Peeking out from behind her shoulder, Tedd flashed me a smug, victorious little smirk. It finally clicked. Some people were just born to be Oscar worthy actors. “Alright.” I nodded slowly. “Then we have nothing left to say.” “Captain Garrison, my patience has run out. I want that money by noon tomorrow.” But I severely underestimated the absolute shamelessness of her family. The next day, instead of a wire transfer, I got a mob. A whole group of people claiming to be Rebecca’s relatives barricaded my front door. They were holding up giant vinyl banners. Ungrateful Gold Digger! Give Our Niece Her Blood Money Back! 3 Neighbors started poking their heads out of their doors, whispering and pointing at me. The ringleader was Rebecca’s loudmouthed aunt, Martha. “Come look at this monster, everyone! This man scammed my poor niece out of her apartment!” “Now that she has amnesia, he is throwing her out on the street and extorting her for two million dollars!” “My niece is a decorated hero! She almost died saving a child from a fire, and this vulture is trying to bleed her dry!” I leaned casually inside my doorway, watching their little theater production with cold amusement. Mr. Garrison stood at the back of the crowd, looking deeply aggrieved, occasionally wiping away invisible tears. Tedd was conveniently absent. I guessed a trashy hallway protest did not fit his delicate aesthetic. “Dylan! Open this door! Give the house back to Rebecca!” Aunt Martha started hammering her fists against the wood. I pulled out my phone and dialed the building’s management office. “Security? I have a mob trespassing and harassing me at my private residence. I need them cleared out immediately.” A few minutes later, a squad of security guards rushed out of the elevator. Seeing the uniforms, Aunt Martha dialed the drama up to eleven. She threw herself onto the hallway carpet, slapping her thighs and wailing at the top of her lungs. “There is no justice in this world! He steals our money and now he is calling the thugs to beat us!” The guards looked completely lost, unsure how to handle a shrieking older woman rolling on the floor. I calmly pulled out a photocopy of my property deed and handed it to the head of security. “I am the sole legal owner of this unit. These people are trespassing and actively committing slander.” “If you cannot remove them, I will call the police and let them drag them out in handcuffs.” The head guard glanced at the deed, then looked at the thrashing Aunt Martha. He made his choice. He barked into his radio. Backup arrived quickly, and they physically dragged the screaming relatives toward the freight elevator. The world finally went quiet. I shut my door. My phone immediately buzzed. It was Rebecca. “Did my aunt go to your house?” “She did. Quite the spectacle. If I did not know better, I would have thought I dug up your family graves,” I replied flatly. “I am sorry. I had no idea they were going to do that.” “Is an apology supposed to fix this?” She fell silent. “Dylan, please. Can we negotiate the money? I literally cannot produce 2.1 million.” “How about this? I will give you 500,000 dollars, and you keep the apartment. We call it even.” I laughed bitterly. “Rebecca, are you trying to tip a homeless man?” “My ten years of loyalty are only worth 500k to you?” “That is not what I meant…” “That is exactly what you meant,” I cut her off, my voice dropping to a freezing temperature. “Do not try to haggle with me again. I will see you in court.” I hung up and permanently blocked every single one of her numbers. That night, while I was taping up the last cardboard box, a photo message came through from an unknown number. I opened it. It was a candid shot of Rebecca and Tedd dining at an ultra exclusive rooftop restaurant. In the photo, Rebecca was gently wiping a smudge of sauce from the corner of Tedd’s mouth. They were gazing into each other’s eyes, sickeningly sweet. Below the image was a text. Dylan, Rebecca just told me that her biggest blessing in life was waking up without her memories, because I was the first face she saw. She said she is treating the past like nothing but a bad nightmare. I stared at the glowing screen for a long time. Then, with total detachment, I deleted the thread. The very next morning, my attorney officially filed the lawsuit. The Garrison family received their court summons almost immediately. Since Rebecca couldn’t get through my blocked list, her parents started blowing up my phone. I ignored every single call. Then the text messages started pouring in. At first, they were full of vicious insults. Then came the guilt trips. Finally, they resorted to begging. Dylan, please let us sit down and talk. Taking this to court will ruin everyone. I replied with exactly three words. Pay your debt. They did not text back. Two days later, Mrs. Higgins, an older neighbor from our community, called me. She sounded incredibly hesitant. “Dylan, honey, I heard about the mess with Rebecca. Her parents are going around the neighborhood dragging your name through the mud. They are telling everyone you are a greedy monster stealing from a wounded hero.” “I know.” “Are you just going to let them…” “Mrs. Higgins, I appreciate you looking out for me, but I really do not care what they say.” Anyone who had eyes knew exactly how I had spent the last three years. When Rebecca was first hospitalized, the doctors handed me critical condition notices multiple times. I was the one who dropped to my knees in the ICU hallway, begging the surgeons not to give up on her. I was the one who slept in a plastic chair for 24 hours a day. I sponge bathed her, rotated her body to prevent bedsores, and massaged her limbs to stop her muscles from dying. When she lost control of her bodily functions, I cleaned up the mess time and time again without a single word of complaint. Back then, her parents had begged me to leave, crying that they did not want to ruin my life. Back then, everyone in the neighborhood called me a saint. But now? Now that she was awake and claimed she had forgotten me, they flipped the script. They painted me as a venomous gold digger. Human nature was terrifyingly cold. I hung up the phone and plugged in a dusty external hard drive I had not touched in weeks. It held my entire life over the past three years. Every medical receipt, every hospital bill, every video recording I took to monitor her physical therapy progress. I selected one specific video, clipped a thirty second segment, and posted it to my social media feed. In the video, Rebecca was lying in the ICU, hooked up to a dozen breathing tubes. I was carefully using a wet cotton swab to moisten her severely cracked lips. My face was in the frame, gaunt and exhausted, with bruised, purple bags under my eyes from sleep deprivation. The caption was simple. A three year nightmare is finally over. I did not name anyone, but everyone who knew us knew exactly what it meant. My feed exploded within minutes. The same people who had been whispering behind my back were suddenly flooding my inbox. Dylan, what is going on? Did Rebecca do something to you?! I did not reply to a single one. Let the bullets fly a little longer.

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My stutter kept me in a car repair shop for five years. The only person who truly listened to me was my girlfriend of five years, Anna, who lived with me in the run-down city block. To deliver a smooth speech at our wedding, I practiced talking every day with a pebble under my tongue. The day I finally stopped stuttering, I was waxing a car, my mind consumed with images of my wedding to Anna. Suddenly, an arrogant male voice cut through my thoughts: “Hey Stutter Boy, is my car fixed?” It was the owner, here to pick up his car. I gave a strained smile and handed him the keys. As he raised his hand, the diamond watch on his wrist glinted, hurting my eyes. He tossed a stack of hundred-dollar bills on the ground, glancing at me. “Keep the change. My wife’s coming to pick me up.” As I bent to pick up the money, a pair of familiar white stilettos entered my field of vision. “Honey, that half-million dollar limited edition sports watch you mentioned, they have it in stock today.” I instinctively looked up. The moment my eyes met hers, the banknotes scattered from my fingertips. It was Anna, who always claimed to be allergic to motor oil, and had never once set foot in the auto repair shop where I worked. 1 Anna’s gaze lingered on me for barely a second before shifting back to the young man. “There, there, darling. Your wife will get you a year-long membership here.” Dean, with his arms around her, chuckled. “Honey, he’s such a stutterer. He sounds so silly and clumsy when he talks.” Anna giggled, ruffling the boy’s hair. “No one’s as witty as my baby. You’re the biggest chatterbox.” He leaned down and kissed Anna’s forehead, then looked at me with a smirk. “Stutter Boy, why are you always so grimy? Guess you’re only good for dealing with car parts.” My fists clenched tightly, my throat bobbed twice, but I said nothing. Compared to him, I certainly looked grimy. To earn enough for a down payment as quickly as possible, I worked from six in the morning until midnight every day. The broken-down cars in the shop were tough to fix, and I often got scratched and bruised by metal parts, always gritting my teeth to get the job done. Marrying Anna was my most steadfast goal for the past five years. In the five years we’d been together, I only had two pairs of worn-out work clothes to rotate, so I naturally looked rough. “I—” I had just started to question Anna, when her hand slamming a bank card onto the counter interrupted me. “My husband says you’re silly when you talk, so just keep quiet.” “There’s ten thousand in this card. From now on, you’re responsible for servicing his car.” Through the blurry vision in front of me, I thought I saw Anna from when we first got together. Back then, I was so self-conscious I dared not enter stores, afraid people would disdain me for my stutter. She was the one who encouraged me, often patiently listening to me practice speaking for an hour or two, never once showing impatience. Because of her, I found the courage to get a job, and first understood what it felt like to be cherished. But now, she said I was silly when I talked, telling me to keep quiet. I swallowed the bitterness in my throat and nodded. The raw wound under my tongue, chafed by the pebble, throbbed faintly, but it was nothing compared to the dull ache in my heart. Dean looked at his custom shirt, stained with motor oil, frowning and pouting. “Honey, look, this car got oil all over me.” “This shirt is a new limited edition, cost tens of thousands, and now I can’t even wear it.” Anna smiled, leaning in to rub his neck, her voice full of indulgence. “It’s okay. You’re handsome no matter what you wear. I’ll buy you new ones.” The boy pouted, then, wrapping his arm around Anna, he headed out. I stood rooted to the spot, uncontrollably shivering. For five years, before going home, I would shower and change clothes at the shop, terrified of carrying even a hint of gasoline smell. All because Anna said she was allergic to motor oil. A year ago, I was so tired I missed a tiny oil stain on my cuff. Anna saw it and immediately her face fell, she grabbed my blanket, took it to the sofa, then closed the bedroom door. That night, I curled up on the sofa and slept, the next day, I spiked a 104-degree fever. I looked at my faded, twenty-dollar work clothes, and suddenly forced a bitter smile. Laughing at my own foolishness, my own naivety. Turns out, Anna wasn’t allergic to motor oil, she was allergic to me. And in her eyes, I only deserved to wear twenty-dollar clothes. My phone rang. It was a message from Anna. The message was short, just like every other reply from her. [Don’t overthink it. I’ll explain tonight when I get back. Dean is only eighteen, you’d best not say too much in front of him.] Something inside me snapped. Anna, who at 22 told me she’d always listen to me. Anna, who at 24 said she’d marry no one but me. Anna, who at 26 held me and said I was the love of her life. The Anna I knew, she was dead. 2 I dragged my heavy feet out of the shop gate, for the first time, not staying to work overtime. The previously clear sky suddenly opened up with a heavy rain, the icy water drenching me to the bone. I had no umbrella. As I walked home through the downpour, a honk sounded behind me. A Bentley pulled up beside me, the window slowly rolling down. It was Anna. She looked at me, her expression somewhat complicated. “Where are you going? I can give you a ride.” I opened my mouth, about to speak, when Dean, in the passenger seat, stopped her. “Honey, just give him an umbrella.” “Look how dirty he is. What if he messes up our car?” I watched her wavering gaze, saying nothing, like waiting for a verdict whose outcome I already knew. A black umbrella extended from the car, then splat, fell into the mud. Anna turned, placing a kiss on Dean’s forehead. “I’ll listen to my husband. Your wife will take you to buy a watch.” I watched the receding car, my hands trembling as I pulled out my old phone, typing word by word. [Anna, let’s break up.] A sharp screech of brakes suddenly tore through the air. “Look out!” I was violently struck, my body lunging forward and falling to the ground. Warm blood trickled from my forehead, seeping through my lips into my mouth, the metallic taste spreading in my throat. An older woman climbed down from a three-wheeled vehicle, looking at me frantically. “You can’t blame me for this. Blame yourself for being an idiot and not getting out of the way.” She tossed fifty dollars onto me. “Fifty bucks is enough, right? Don’t be so young and try to fake an accident in the middle of the road. You might shorten your life.” I lay helplessly in the mud, passersby cast curious glances, but no one came to help me. I felt like I was back five years ago, being ostracized by everyone in my class. After the accident, I frantically searched my phone contacts, unable to find a single person to ask for help. Five years ago, Anna walked up to me and extended her hand. I looked up at her, meeting a familiar smile. I gently placed my hand in hers, and she pulled hard. I thought she had pulled me out of the mire. That umbrella not far away, mud splattered, leaving mottled marks on its black surface. I was like that umbrella, easily tossed from her car window, covered in mud. I’ve forgotten how I managed to pick myself up and walk home. I only remember Anna returning home at dawn that day, reeking of perfume. She saw my state and scoffed. “Found out I have money, so you’re using a pity play to get sympathy?” “Arthur Bradbury, I never knew you were so scheming.” I said nothing, simply throwing the car service card heavily onto the table in front of her. Anna picked it up, her delicate brows arching. “Arthur, ten thousand dollars would take you three months to earn.” “You should be grateful for what I give you.” “After all, without me, you would have died in that car crash five years ago.” Seeing the wound on my forehead, her tone softened slightly. “The past five years were just a test for you, Arthur. Congratulations, you passed.” “I’m actually the eldest daughter of the Sterling family in the capital, and I’ll be the future CEO of Sterling Corp.” She stepped forward, wanting to put an arm around my shoulder, but her fingers had barely touched my jacket when I avoided her touch. “Dean is just my arranged marriage partner, and you, you’re my lover.” I turned my head away, my voice a little hoarse from the injury, and with a slight stutter. “You mean, Dean will be your public husband?” Anna hesitated, then nodded. “Husband is just a title. As long as you know in your heart that I only love you, that’s enough.” I looked directly into her eyes and said, “What if I say, I want that title?” 3 Anna’s face instantly drained of color, and she sharply pulled her hand back. I stumbled slightly, then regained my footing, but she merely looked down at me from her superior height. “Arthur Bradbury, you’re a stutterer, with no money, no power, no family. Don’t dream of things that don’t belong to you.” “I can give you my love, but my husband can only be Dean.” I tightened my fingers, my nails digging deep into my palm, a sharp pain spreading from my arm throughout my body. I looked at Anna. Her face was still the same, yet I felt like I was looking at a complete stranger. I knew, she was no longer the Anna who would massage my shoulders after I finished fixing a car. She was the high and mighty Ms. Sterling, and I was merely a plaything for her to experience life while pretending to be poor. Anna’s phone suddenly rang. She answered it, a gentle smile spreading across her face. “Dean, I’ll be right back. Don’t be afraid, your wife will protect you forever.” She hung up the phone. Her gaze turned to me, becoming impatient again. “Stop messing around. Dean has nightmares if I leave him at night. You sleep alone tonight.” The door closed. I sat alone in the empty room all night, not shedding a single tear. The next day, I still put on my faded work clothes, and forced myself to the auto repair shop. Dean was already there, a modified off-road motorcycle parked at his feet. He saw me, a triumphant smirk on his face. “Hey Stutter Boy, I’ve brought you a big job, specially.” He kicked the motorcycle’s tire, his tone provocative. “Take this bike apart and put it back together for me. Finish it, and I’ll give you ten grand!” I looked at the illegally modified motorcycle, its wiring completely messed up, and took a step back. “This bike is dangerous. I won’t fix it.” But the shop manager, at that moment, fawned over Dean, pushing me forward. “Mr. Dean, don’t listen to this stutterer’s nonsense. We’ll definitely take this job.” He lowered his voice, threatening me in my ear. “If you don’t take this job, you can forget about this month’s salary.” This month’s salary would complete the down payment for the house. I gritted my teeth and nodded. Dean grinned triumphantly, and as he passed me, he whispered, “I know you’ve been with Anna for five years. But you, a stuttering mechanic, do you really deserve her?” I said nothing, took the tools, and walked over to the motorcycle. Just as I was about to inspect the wiring, the motorcycle’s battery suddenly short-circuited, sparking. The blast of air instantly knocked me off my feet, and flying metal shards savagely embedded themselves in my arm. Excruciating pain hit me. My vision went black, and I fell unconscious. In the last second before my consciousness faded, I saw Anna rushing in. When I awoke, the hospital’s stark white assaulted my eyes. Anna’s voice, clearly annoyed, came from outside the door. “You only told me you were playing a joke on Arthur, but now you’ve hurt him so badly.” “The doctor says the scar on his arm won’t go away, Dean. You’ve gone too far.” Dean complained indignantly. “I was just jealous. Sister Anna is mine!” “Why does he get to be with you for so long!” “We’re getting engaged soon. I just wanted to teach him a lesson, so he wouldn’t dare cling to you anymore!” Silence fell outside for a moment, followed by Anna’s helpless sigh. Expressionless, I pulled out my phone and called my sister. “Sis, I want to come home.” My sister’s familiar voice came from the other end. “It’s good that you’ve come to your senses. Wait there, I’ll be right there to pick you up.”

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When I checked out of my hotel, the receptionist handed me two invoices. The first was for eight hundred dollars—the cost of my own room. The second invoice was for thirty-eight thousand dollars. “Mr. Lin, this is the final balance for the fifty-two suites your wife booked for your wedding party. She said you would be settling the bill.” The receptionist offered a polite, professional smile. Her voice carried, and absolutely everyone in the hotel lobby heard her. I stared at the two pieces of paper resting side by side on the marble counter. One standard room. My room. One luxury presidential suite, quantity: 52. The problem? I was single. I did not have a wife. And I absolutely had not hosted a wedding. “I am not married. Whoever booked this, you need to find them.” I grabbed the handle of my suitcase, ready to walk away. But the receptionist raised her voice, stopping me in my tracks. “Mr. Lin, you had the money to throw a massive wedding, but you do not have the money to pay the final bill?” Every single guest waiting in the checkout line turned to look at me. People started whispering to each other. I did not waste my breath arguing. I pulled out my phone and dialed immediately. “Hello, I need police assistance at the Grand Horizon Hotel. A receptionist is attempting to extort thirty-eight thousand dollars from me.” “Also, please contact the local Consumer Protection Bureau. This hotel is engaging in aggressive, fraudulent billing practices.” 1 I frowned at the receptionist and pushed the invoice back across the counter. “I did not get married. I did not book these rooms. Why would I pay for this?” Her professional smile did not waver. “You are Mr. Nick Lin, correct?” “Yes.” She continued smoothly, “You stayed in room 1806 for the past three nights, correct?” “Yes.” My frown deepened. I despised having my personal information broadcasted in public. Still smiling, she slid the invoice back toward me. “Then there is no mistake. This is your wedding banquet bill. Look, your wife even left a handwritten note and signature for you!” I looked down at the scribbled handwriting at the bottom of the page. Hubby, I am taking our relatives back to our hometown first. Do not forget to pay the final balance! — Chloe. My face darkened. “I do not know anyone named Chloe.” “I do not have a wife.” The receptionist’s smile slipped slightly, replaced by a tone of exasperated patience. “Mr. Lin, we are only asking you to pay because of your wife’s explicit instructions.” “Your family booked dozens of rooms for your relatives to attend your wedding. Now you are suddenly claiming you do not have a wife? That is a very low blow.” The crowd around the front desk was growing by the minute. I was trapped in the center of a very public spectacle. “If Chloe left the note, then you can wait for Chloe to come back and pay it.” Her tone remained strictly professional. “Mr. Lin, it is not our place to get involved in your domestic disputes.” “But taking out your marital anger on our hotel by refusing to pay is unacceptable.” I let out a cold laugh. “You keep insisting I threw a wedding at this hotel. Where is the proof?” “Who did you communicate with? Who organized the logistics?” Her smile stiffened. “Your wife coordinated everything with us. She wanted to handle the details so you would not be stressed.” I stared at her, deadpan. “I am a tourist visiting this city alone. I have never been married.” A mocking edge crept into her voice. “Mr. Lin, you are trying very hard to deny this. Could it be that you have someone else in your life who cannot know you are married?” The moment she said that, the crowd in the lobby erupted into loud murmurs. A middle-aged man standing behind me shot me a look of pure disgust. “No wonder he is fighting it so hard. Sounds like he has a mistress he is trying to hide.” The receptionist maintained her perfect posture, though her smile was now laced with open irritation. “Mr. Lin, stalling is not going to make this go away.” She tapped her manicured fingernail against the thirty-eight-thousand-dollar invoice. A rhinestone on her nail caught the lobby lights, flashing obnoxiously. “Your wife left explicit instructions. We are simply following our client’s orders.” I looked at her. “This Chloe woman. Have you actually met her?” She paused for a second. “Of course I have. She booked the rooms in person. I handled her reservation myself.” “What does she look like?” She thought for a moment. “Pretty tall. Around five-foot-five. She was wearing a white summer dress.” “How old?” “Early thirties, maybe.” “Did you scan her ID?” “Obviously. Our hotel requires real-name registration for all bookings.” “Then pull up her ID profile and let me see it.” The receptionist’s smile vanished completely. “Mr. Lin, that would be a violation of guest privacy…” “You just spent ten minutes screaming that she is my wife. How is looking at my own wife’s ID a privacy violation?” She choked on her words, completely stumped. When she finally looked at me again, her tone had turned ice cold. “Mr. Lin, this little game is getting old.” “If you do not pay that bill today, you are not leaving this lobby.” 2 I leaned against the marble counter, staring her down. “Are you threatening me?” “I have never been married. I do not know a Chloe. I never hosted a wedding, and I never invited any relatives.” “Whoever paid you the deposit is the person you need to chase for the balance.” The receptionist, whose name tag read Sarah, finally dropped the polite act. Her mouth pulled into a tight line. “Mr. Lin, let me be completely honest with you.” “When Ms. Chloe booked these rooms, she provided your exact name and phone number.” “She told us you were the groom. She said that after the wedding, she needed to escort her elderly relatives back to her hometown, and that you would settle the final bill.” “She said you two had agreed on this arrangement.” “We approved the payment plan as a courtesy to our VIP clients.” “The wedding happened. The rooms were used. Now you are trying to dine and dash. Do you really think you can get away with this?” I kept my eyes locked on hers and took a slow, deep breath. “Fine. Tell me exactly what day this supposed wedding took place.” “The day before yesterday.” “Which banquet hall?” “The Grand Ballroom on the third floor.” “How many guests attended?” “Over two hundred.” “What color was the bride’s dress?” Sarah frowned deeply. “How am I supposed to remember that?” “You just said you coordinated everything with her. You handled a two-hundred-person wedding, and you do not remember what color the bride was wearing?” Sarah opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. The people waiting in line behind me were getting restless. “Can we speed this up?” a man yelled from the back. “I have a train to catch!” A woman whispered to her friend, “That poor guy. His wife runs off right after the wedding and leaves him drowning in debt.” “Poor? He is just trying to skip out on the bill! Thirty-eight grand is a lot of money.” “Still, you cannot just rob a hotel.” The gossip buzzed in the air like a swarm of angry bees. I glanced over my shoulder. There were about seven or eight people in my line. Some were scrolling on their phones, some were staring at me like I was a zoo animal, and others were actively debating my morals. Right behind me was a guy in a tracksuit, gripping two massive suitcases, looking furious at the delay. Next to him was an older woman with a tight perm. She was looking at me like I was a deadbeat son-in-law. “Young man, you need to be reasonable,” she scolded loudly. “Your wife planned the wedding. She booked the hotel. You cannot just refuse to pay because you two had a little lovers’ spat.” I looked her dead in the eye. “Ma’am, I do not know who that woman is.” “Oh, please! If she does not know you, how did she know your exact name?” “That is exactly what I would like to know.” The older woman shook her head in disgust, muttering about how irresponsible men were these days. Seeing that the crowd was on her side, Sarah’s tone softened, playing the victim. “Mr. Lin, look around. Everyone is watching.” “Making a massive scene is only going to embarrass you further.” “How about this? You pay half the bill now, and we will contact Ms. Chloe for the rest?” I almost laughed out loud. “Why on earth would I pay half?” “I am not married. I am not paying a single dime for a wedding I did not have.” Sarah sighed heavily, like a tired mother dealing with a spoiled toddler. “Mr. Lin, you keep claiming you are not married. Can you prove it?” The lobby went dead silent. I stared at her. “Prove that I am not married?” “Exactly.” Sarah smiled, a smug, victorious gleam in her eyes. “You see? You cannot prove a negative.” “Our hotel operates on hard evidence.” “Ms. Chloe provided your name and phone number. We verified your ID at check-in, and it was a perfect match.” “The wedding happened. The suites were occupied.” “And now you think you can just say ‘I am not married’ and walk away free?” “Mr. Lin, the real world does not work like that.” Looking at her arrogant smirk, it suddenly hit me. She was gambling. She was betting that I would be too embarrassed by the public humiliation and would just pay the thirty-eight grand to save face. It was pure profit for them. And if I refused, she would rally the entire lobby into believing I was a scumbag fraud. It was a classic trap. I pulled my suitcase closer, locked the wheels, and sat down right on top of it. “Alright. Then I will wait.” Sarah blinked, caught off guard. “Wait for what?” I pulled out my phone and held it up. “I just called the cops. I am waiting for them to arrive so I can report a thirty-eight-thousand-dollar extortion ring at the Grand Horizon Hotel.” 3 The smug confidence on Sarah’s face cracked. “Mr. Lin, what are you doing?” “Do you really think calling the cops means you can skip out on your bill?” Her voice wavered, but she was trying desperately to maintain control. I flashed her a dark smile. “I guess we will find out when they get here.” A sharp snort of laughter broke the tension. It came from a young guy wearing headphones standing a few spots back in line. He glanced at me, realized everyone was looking, and quickly pretended to be fascinated by his phone. Sarah glared at him before taking a sharp, hissing breath. “Mr. Lin, do you really think this is a game?” “Do you think sitting on your luggage like a child is going to solve your financial problems?” I looked up at her from my suitcase. “Do you think forcing a thirty-eight-thousand-dollar fake invoice on me is going to solve yours?” Sarah’s expression hardened into pure granite. She turned to the junior receptionist working next to her. “Go get me a glass of water.” The younger girl scrambled away immediately. Sarah leaned against the front desk, crossed her arms over her chest, and glared down at me. “Mr. Lin, I have been working in hospitality for eight years.” “I have seen every type of scammer walk through those doors.” “People who dine and dash. People who claim their wallets were stolen. People who pretend to have amnesia.” “But a man who denies the existence of his own wife over a hotel bill? You are a first for me.” I laughed. “And this is a first for me. A hotel that assigns me a wife just to extort thirty-eight grand.” Sarah’s face flushed dark red. “Mr. Lin, you need to watch your mouth. Do not make accusations you cannot back up with evidence.” “Show me your evidence, then.” “Ms. Chloe’s ID registration, the wedding photos, the banquet catering receipts, the liquor tab, and your check-in logs for room 1806. I can pull all of it up.” The lobby fell into a tense, agonizing silence. People in line started giving up. A few moved to the other receptionist’s desk. Others walked over to the velvet sofas to sit down and watch the drama unfold. Sarah stood behind the counter, aggressively tapping her manicured nails against the marble. I sat on my suitcase, checking my phone. It had been almost twenty minutes since she handed me the insane invoice. No new messages. I scrolled through my contacts and stopped on my mom’s number. I hesitated, then locked my screen. If my mom found out about this, she would be so furious she would probably book the next flight down here just to scream at the manager. Better to handle this myself. Sarah suddenly reached into a drawer and pulled out a piece of paper, sliding it across the counter. “Mr. Lin. Look at this. This is a photocopy of Ms. Chloe’s ID.” I took it. It was a standard black-and-white photocopy of a driver’s license. Name: Chloe Jenkins. The photo showed a woman with a bob haircut, a round face, and thick eyebrows. She looked to be in her early thirties. The address listed was from a completely different state. I stared at it for a second before sliding it back. “Never seen her in my life.” Sarah’s patience completely evaporated. “Mr. Lin!” My patience was gone, too. I cut her off, my voice dropping to a low, dangerous warning. “We will wait for the cops. When they get here, you pull out your evidence, and I will pull out mine.” “If the cops say I owe the money, I will wire it to your account on the spot.” “But if the cops say I do not owe you a single cent, you are going to stand in the middle of this lobby and publicly apologize to me.” Sarah checked her phone. Suddenly, she looked up at me and smiled. It was a cold, victorious smirk. “Mr. Lin. You are not going anywhere.” My stomach dropped slightly. “What does that mean?” Sarah picked up the desk phone and dialed an internal extension. “Chloe? Are you here yet?” She hung up and looked right at me. “Like I said, Mr. Lin. You are paying this bill today, whether you want to or not.” From the long, carpeted hallway behind me, I heard the sharp, rhythmic clicking of high heels against the marble floor. Click. Click. Click. 4 “Sarah? What is going on?” I did not turn around, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw a slender silhouette step out from behind one of the lobby’s massive pillars. It was a woman. Her voice was low, carrying a slight out-of-state accent. Sarah looked at her, then pointed straight at me. “Chloe. Your husband is refusing to pay the bill.” The woman turned to look at me. Her eyes lingered on my face for exactly two seconds. Then, she smiled. It was a completely natural, exasperated smile. The exact kind of smile a wife gives a stubborn, misbehaving husband. “Nick, stop throwing a tantrum.” She walked right up to me and reached for the handle of my suitcase. “Let’s go home.” I took a sharp step back, pulling my luggage with me. “Do not touch me.” Her hand hovered in midair. She blinked in surprise, then let out a heavy, long-suffering sigh. “Nick, I know you are mad at me.” “But my parents are old. They cannot handle a long train ride. I had to drive them and the relatives back home. It was the right thing to do.” “We are married now. All of my savings are tied up in the joint account for the house down payment. Just pay the hotel, and we can go home and talk.” Her acting was flawless. It was so terrifyingly sincere that if I did not know for an absolute fact I had never met her, I might have actually believed her. “Who are you?” I asked sharply. She frowned, looking genuinely hurt. “Nick, you…” “Do not call me Nick.” “I do not know who you are.” She looked at Sarah and gave a helpless, bitter laugh. “See, Sarah? I told you he was just throwing a fit.” Sarah immediately played along, sighing loudly. “Chloe, you cannot really blame him. You left the groom all alone right after the wedding. Any man would be furious.” “I did not have a choice! My side of the family is huge, and my mom insisted I escort them personally.” “You should have communicated better with your husband.” “I tried! I left him a note, I called his cell a dozen times, but he refused to pick up.” The two of them bounced lines off each other like a perfectly rehearsed Broadway script. I looked back and forth between them. It was almost hilarious how insane this was. “Are you two done with the performance?” Sarah turned to me, plastering that fake, professional customer service smile back on her face. “Mr. Lin. Look. Your wife drove all the way back here just to sort this out. If you two have marital issues, please discuss them privately. Do not cause a scene in our lobby.” I stared at the woman claiming to be Chloe. “You are saying you are my wife?” “Yes.” “When did we get married?” “The day before yesterday.” “Where?” “Right here. The Grand Horizon Hotel. Third floor, Grand Ballroom.” “How many guests?” “Two hundred and thirty.” “Were my parents there?” Chloe paused for a fraction of a second. “Of course they were. Your mom, your dad, my parents. Everyone was there.” “What is my mother’s name?” Chloe opened her mouth, but nothing came out. “You married me, but you do not know my mother’s name?” Chloe’s expression hardened. Her eyes narrowed, and her voice dropped to a scolding whisper. “Nick, what exactly are you trying to pull here?” “I asked you a question. What is my mother’s name?” “You are legally my wife, and you do not know your own mother-in-law’s name?” She instantly reverted back to playing the exhausted, victimized wife. “Nick, if you are going to act like a child, I cannot help you.” “I drove all the way to my hometown, dropped off my family, and drove straight back here because I knew you would struggle to handle this alone.” “And you choose to humiliate me in public like this?” “How am I supposed to look these people in the eye?” She spun around, facing the crowd of guests who were still watching the drama unfold. “I am so sorry, everyone. My husband is just acting out. I am sorry we are holding up the line.” Right on cue, the peanut gallery chimed in. “Honey, do not argue with him when he is angry. Just let him cool off,” a woman yelled. “Yeah, men just need their egos stroked. He will get over it,” another chimed in. “Honestly, leaving your husband alone on your wedding night? No wonder he is throwing a tantrum.” Chloe offered the crowd a tragic, apologetic smile. “I know, I know. It is entirely my fault.” She turned back to me, making her voice soft and pleading. “Nick. Stop making a scene. Let’s just go home.” I stared at her, deadpan. “Alright.” Chloe’s eyes lit up. “You will come home with me?” “Show me the marriage certificate.” “What?” “If we got married, there is a legal marriage certificate. Pull it out. Let me see it.” Chloe’s smile completely froze. “The certificate… is back in my hometown.” “Which hometown?” “My parents’ house.” “Call your parents right now. Tell them to take a picture of it and text it to you.” “Are you telling me not a single person in your family knows how to use a smartphone?” Sarah aggressively interrupted. “Mr. Lin, the marriage certificate is a private matter you can handle later. Right now, the priority is settling the hotel balance.” “As you can see, your wife drove hours just to be here. She is being incredibly reasonable—” Before she could finish, Chloe lunged forward. Her hand clamped onto my wrist like a vice grip, and she yanked me violently toward the exit. “Your debit card is in the car, right? I will go with you to get it.” “Stop ruining everyone else’s day! Behave!” Her grip was shockingly strong. For a split second, I actually could not rip my arm away. “I do not know this woman! This is kidnapping! Someone help me!” I shouted. But Sarah and Chloe just laughed it off, playing to the crowd. “He is still throwing a tantrum! So sorry, everyone. We will send up some wedding chocolates to your rooms later as an apology!” Sarah chirped brightly. Not a single person in the lobby moved to help me. They were all completely convinced this was just a toxic newlywed fight. My arm was starting to ache, and my mind was racing. This was a highly organized, premeditated extortion ring. This was not a random scam. I braced my legs, preparing to physically shove her off me, when a voice boomed from the sliding glass doors. “Nobody move! We received a 911 call reporting an attempted kidnapping and extortion!”

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1 After Dad’s affair, Mom used a steel wool pad to scrub him clean every single night. She’d spray disinfectant on his raw, bleeding back, muttering frantically. “Filthy, so filthy, Brandon Davies, you’re so filthy.” Dad’s face was ashen with pain, but his eyes were filled with guilt, and he didn’t move a muscle. He looked at me, completely bewildered, and spoke softly. “Dad made a mistake, what Mom’s doing is right.” But on my birthday, Dad asked to take a shower by himself. Mom, who was just slicing my cake, froze, then tore at Dad’s clothes like a madwoman. “Are you screwing that student of yours, Scarlett Reed, again?! Is she so desperate she can’t live without you?!” “And you’re just as pathetic, ignoring what you have for free at home, willing to cause a scandal just to sleep with some tramp!” After the eighteenth slap from Mom, Dad finally lost it, revealing a gash on his arm. “I got hurt checking machinery at the plant, almost lost an arm, and you don’t care! All you care about is who I’m sleeping with! When is it going to end?!” “Even if Scarlett isn’t ‘clean,’ she’s better than you! At least she didn’t get tangled up with her step-brother at a young age! I want to sleep with her, so what?!” The candles snuffed out without warning, plunging our quarters into darkness. Mom’s hand dropped limply, the light in her eyes fading with it. I knew then. Mom was truly tired. She was letting go. … The dry air was thick with a deathly silence. Dad was the first to react. He yanked the pull cord, and the dim, yellow light flickered, casting swaying shadows. He instinctively reached for Mom, but his hand met empty air. “My bad, I misspoke.” “The machine broke down today, I went to fix it and got hurt. I didn’t want you to worry, that’s why I wanted to shower alone.” “Don’t believe me? See for yourself, am I clean? No other woman’s perfume, right?” Mom’s step-brother had been a little boy her family took in, two years older than her. Little Mom was ecstatic, cheering that she finally had a big brother. But when he grew up, he pinned Mom down, telling her she was going to be his. It was Dad, passing by, who gallantly rescued Mom and promised to keep quiet. Yet now, it was Dad who brought it all out into the open. Mom said nothing, turning to reheat the cold food in the steamer. Dad finally realized he was two hours later than usual. Two hours. A very particular number. That day, Dad was two hours late, and Mom was frantic, searching for him in the pouring rain. Through the control room window, she saw Dad and Scarlett Reed intertwined. I was on Mom’s back, giggling foolishly. “Dad’s on Aunt Scarlett just like me! Is it a game?” “Dad’s like a puppy, having so much fun with Aunt Scarlett.” Mom covered my eyes, ordering me to look down. All I remember from that day was the heavy rain, the incessant thunder. Mom carried me back, crying harder than the rain. Dad remembered too, his face paling. He stammered. “I’m sorry, it really was an emergency at the plant.” “I promise, things like that won’t happen again. We’ll live a good life.” Mom stood with her back to Dad, silent. Dad thought she had conceded, letting out a long sigh of relief. He changed his clothes and sat back down, his arm already treated. “Happy birthday, little star. And here’s to many more happy returns for us.” Many happy returns, year after year. These were Dad and Mom’s wedding vows; they repeated them every year. Mom didn’t finish the second half, just kept piling food onto my plate. Dad sighed, pulling out two beautifully wrapped gifts. A pair of pearl earrings and a doll. “Bought these on my business trip down south. You two will love them.” I was overjoyed, still secretly glancing at Mom’s expression. Mom nodded at me, signaling it was okay to accept. Dad’s eyes lit up. He gently, carefully fastened one earring onto Mom. As he reached for the other side, the door was pounded on, rattling the whole house. “Mr. Davies, hurry! The data’s wrong, Scarlett Reed’s stuck in the machine again!” Dad’s hand slipped, the sharp earring stud piercing Mom’s earlobe. Blood welled up. Mom gasped in pain, tears welling in her eyes. He quickly pulled out a handkerchief to press against Mom’s wound, speaking as he headed for the door. “Something’s wrong at the plant, I need to go.” We all knew. It wasn’t the plant that was in trouble. It was Scarlett Reed. Dad’s injury? Also from protecting Scarlett Reed. Mom stared at the handkerchief, lost in thought. A rose was embroidered on it – Scarlett Reed’s favorite flower. After a long moment, Mom gave a soft, bitter laugh. She stroked my head, whispering an apology. “Mom messed up your sixth birthday, didn’t she?” “But Mom really can’t keep going. Mom’s going to divorce Dad.” Mom brought me to the courthouse the next day. Dad hadn’t come home all night, and Mom hadn’t slept a wink. She clutched a small red booklet, taking a while to grasp what the clerk was saying. “Are you saying this certificate is fake? That Brandon Davies and I aren’t married?” The clerk, a kind-faced older woman, sighed sympately. “I’ve checked multiple times. Brandon Davies’s marital status is indeed married, but the spouse isn’t you. It’s someone named Scarlett Reed.” “They registered a year ago with a certificate from the factory.” A year ago. That’s when Scarlett Reed had been living with us for three months. When Mom brought her home, Scarlett had not a single unbruised spot on her body. Mom said she was a poor soul, and Dad and I needed to be kind to her. Privately, I’d heard Dad complain that Scarlett was a lost girl with no parents, and living with us would be bad for my development. That was the first time I saw Mom truly angry at Dad. She said he was disrespecting women, and made him promise to treat Scarlett like a sister. Later, Scarlett recovered and clung to Dad, becoming his apprentice. Mom was even happy, glad Scarlett found a good path, and that Dad had let go of his prejudice. But no one expected everything to spin out of control later. Dad came home early today. Seeing the empty table, he raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t get to finish dinner with you two yesterday. Tonight, I’ll take you out to eat.” Mom didn’t move. She pointed at the wedding photo on the wall. “Brandon Davies, when did your heart change?” “Was it a year ago, or the first time you saw Scarlett Reed?” The photo on the wall was yellowed, curling at the edges. Dad’s face was stiff, Mom’s lips pressed into a thin line. But in Dad and Scarlett Reed’s photo, both were smiling radiantly. Dad first paused, then burst out laughing. “You’re mad at me over this? If you want to take pictures, we can go right now.” “Scarlett, she’s young but smart. Such talent shouldn’t be wasted. Marrying her was just for a spot at the plant.” “It’s just a piece of paper. If you mind, I’ll divorce her immediately.” I tugged at Mom’s sleeve, asking innocently. “Is that why I can’t go to school?” Dad stiffened, a flicker of embarrassment on his face. I was well past school age, but every time Mom took me to enroll, the school staff would say I didn’t meet the requirements. Mom had run around aimlessly for ages, wearing out two pairs of shoes. She had pulled strings, asking around, only to get one answer. “Is your husband’s identity correct? Please check again before coming back.” Mom thought it was because Dad worked for a classified unit that I couldn’t go to school. Turns out, my dad wasn’t my dad. I was illegitimate, a ghost child with no official papers. Mom held me gently, saying nothing. Dad cleared his throat twice, softening his tone. “Once Scarlett gets her promotion, I’ll divorce her. Then I’ll send little star to the best school. Can you wait a little longer, please?” Mom avoided Dad’s embrace, lifting her gaze calmly. “You never developed feelings for Scarlett Reed? You were just helping?” Dad nodded, pulling us into a tight hug. “Don’t worry. In my heart, there’s only you and little star.” I covered my nose, scowling at Dad. The scent on his shoulder was Scarlett Reed’s perfume. Outside the door, Scarlett Reed, in a floral dress, bit her lip, her eyes red. “Brandon, I’m pregnant.” I looked up, not missing the fleeting surprise in Dad’s eyes. Scarlett Reed pushed a pregnancy diagnosis in front of Dad, her face conflicted. “I know you only married me to help me get the spot, and I won’t keep this child either.” “I only came to let the baby meet its father, after all, the doctor says it’s a boy.” Scarlett Reed’s tears traced paths down her fair cheeks, disappearing into the pearl necklace around her neck. It was a matching set with Mom’s earrings, but hers was more expensive. Scarlett Reed self-consciously covered her neck. “Brandon gave it to me for winning the competition. If you mind, honey, I won’t wear it.” Dad’s gaze was flustered. He opened his mouth to say something, but Mom cut him off. Mom calmly took off her earrings. “Since you wear my clothes, and you sleep with my man, if you’re so fond of hand-me-downs, then these earrings are yours too.” Scarlett Reed’s smile froze, then twisted into an even brighter one. She naturally took them, putting them on as she spoke. “You’re so generous, honey. Looks like Brandon was right to sleep with me. Compared to your slender figure, I clearly satisfy him more.” “After all, he said that no matter how much I mess around, I would never get involved with my own step-brother. In that regard, I’m much cleaner than you.” “Scarlett Reed! What rubbish are you spouting?! Get out!” Dad sharply stopped Scarlett Reed, shielding Mom. Scarlett Reed’s eyes reddened, and she turned and ran. Dad paused, then pretended to calmly explain to Mom. “It’s getting dark, she’s not safe alone.” “You two wait for me at home, I’ll be right back.” Mom’s hand was hidden under the table, already purple from where her fingernails had dug into her palm. I never expected Dad to use Mom’s secret as entertainment for Scarlett Reed. And I never expected Dad to protect Scarlett Reed, leaving Mom behind once more. Mom watched Dad’s retreating back, then quietly packed her clothes to leave. As she locked the door, I still peered outside. Mom took my hand, shaking her head gently. “Don’t look. He won’t be coming back.” On the way to the train station, snowflakes began to fall. Scarlett Reed suddenly blocked our path, a triumphant smile on her face. “I knew you’d leave, so I waited here specifically. See how well I know you?” Mom didn’t want to get tangled up with Scarlett Reed, so she picked me up and tried to go around. Suddenly, several menacing figures rushed out, surrounding us. Scarlett Reed’s eyes gleamed with defiance, approaching step by step. “Remember these guys? You saved me from them back then.” “They turned me into a tramp, but you brought me into your home, made me your sister.” “Compared to you, I’m practically evil.” Mom stared at her warily, her voice guarded. “What exactly do you want?” Scarlett Reed’s face hardened, letting out a scornful laugh. “Of course, I want you to become just like me. That way Brandon won’t think about you anymore.” “What do you think Brandon will say when he comes and sees you disheveled?” Scarlett Reed’s gaze fell on me, her smile meaningful. “Little star is small, but little kids have their own… appeal, don’t they?” Mom held me tight, her eyes bloodshot. She grabbed her self-defense knife, her fingertips trembling. “Get away! Anyone who dares to come closer today, I’ll kill them!” The knife had been blessed, Dad’s first gift to Mom. I hid in Mom’s arms, crying in terror. The group let out malicious laughs, closing in on Mom. In a blur, I felt a greasy hand touch my face. Mom screamed hysterically, wildly slashing the knife into the air. Someone fell to the ground in pain, others cursed. Mom didn’t dare relax, dodging and wildly stabbing. Her back hit a fleshy wall, and I heard a familiar voice above my head. “Eleanor, how much longer are you going to carry on like this?!” Scarlett Reed lay in a pool of blood, looking like a withered flower. She clutched her stomach, forcing a bitter smile. “Don’t blame Eleanor, she saved my life, and destroying me this way… I accept it…” “But my poor baby, he’s so small, not even moving yet…” Dad coldly dropped a line. “Eleanor, you’d better pray Scarlett’s baby is alright.” Dad scooped up Scarlett Reed and ran towards the clinic. He ran so fast, he didn’t notice the bowl-sized gash on Mom’s exhausted hand. Mom was dragged by me to the clinic. The nurse stitched roughly, and the wound reopened during bandaging. I lovingly blew on Mom’s hand, glaring angrily at the nurse. “You brat! I’m already doing my duty by bandaging your mom, the other woman!” Mom instinctively covered my ears, her voice sharp. “Apologize to my child.” The nurse rolled her eyes, pointing to the special care ward. “Mr. Davies and Ms. Reed are the actual couple. Their child is legitimate.” “You, the other woman, should be keeping your tail between your legs. And you expect respect?” Dad stood at the doorway, his eyes filled with concern for the blood-stained bandage. He sighed, then carefully re-bandaged Mom’s hand. “It’s a good thing Scarlett is okay, but this can’t just be brushed aside.” “Some data was leaked, and the higher-ups are investigating. You’ll have to take the fall for Scarlett.” Mom looked as if she’d been struck by a blunt object, frozen in place. “Are you saying… you want me to take the blame for Scarlett Reed?” Dad frowned, his tone matter-of-fact. “Scarlett is young and promising; she can’t have a disciplinary record. As for you… I’ll still support you, it won’t affect you.” Mom’s tears flowed like an unstrung necklace, hitting Dad’s heart. “What about my little star? She can’t have a mother with a bad record.” Dad gently wiped Mom’s tears, silent for a moment. “Don’t worry, I’ll transfer the child to Scarlett. She won’t be affected.” Mom froze, then, realizing, held me tightly in her arms. “Scarlett Reed found people to harm me and little star! I was just protecting myself!” “It wasn’t me! It wasn’t me… Don’t take my little star!” Scarlett Reed, her face pale, advised. “If Eleanor doesn’t want to, forget it. I don’t want to make things difficult for you, Brandon…” The Jeep outside honked impatiently. Dad hesitated, then forcibly pulled me away from Mom. “It’s just to cooperate with the investigation. Nothing will happen.” I screamed for Mom, desperately hitting Dad. Mom was dragged away, her knees leaving long bloody streaks on the gravel. Her eyes blurry with tears, she screamed frantically. “I didn’t do it! I really didn’t!” “Little star! My little star!” “Brandon Davies! I hate you! I hate you!” The Jeep sped away, reappearing three days later. It wasn’t Mom who returned, but the factory manager. He glanced at Dad, who was holding Scarlett Reed, and hesitated to speak. Dad noticed the white shirt in the manager’s hand—the one Mom was wearing when she left. It was covered in dried mud, mixed with conspicuous blood. Dad’s smile froze, his heart seizing up. “Comrade Eleanor encountered a mudslide during transport and died instantly.” “These are her belongings. Please take care.”

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My billionaire father left me his entire fortune, but all I inherited was a junkyard. I confronted the lawyer in disbelief, only to be coldly informed, “Mr. Shaw, you voluntarily signed away your right to inheritance.” The next second, I received news that my illegitimate younger brother had blacklisted me from every industry. Suddenly, everyone piled on, scrambling to curry favor with Austin Heuston. Furious, I stormed to the conglomerate’s headquarters, only to find Austin Heuston sitting in my chair, soft moans of intimacy echoing from beneath his desk. “Brother, do you like the gift I gave you?” Austin provocatively pulled Chelah Vance onto his lap, roaring with laughter: “I’ll gladly accept both the company and the lady. You can spend the rest of your life with that pile of scrap metal!” Watching my wife willingly wrap her arms around Austin Heuston’s neck, my fury reached its peak, then strangely cooled. What those two scumbags didn’t know was that the junkyard held the billionaire’s secret. Whoever owned the junkyard was the true heir to the fortune. 1 Three years ago, Chelah’s mother was involved in a car accident. The culprit fled, fearing consequences, and medical bills soared to a staggering one and a half million dollars. Desperate, Chelah Vance was forced to sell herself to save her mother. It was her filial piety that moved me, and I took on all her mother’s medical expenses. After we married, I doted on Chelah, turning her into a refined, delicate princess, envied by all. It wasn’t an exaggeration to say Chelah had been completely transformed; no one would have guessed she’d almost fallen into a life of infamy. But just seven days after my father’s passing, my wife got involved with my illegitimate younger brother. My eyes blazing crimson, I stared at the two intertwined figures, my nails digging deep into my flesh. I spoke each word distinctly: “Chelah Vance, I want a divorce!” The moment the words left my lips, they burst into laughter as if I’d told the greatest joke, tears streaming down their faces. Chelah didn’t even glance at me, eagerly kissing Austin Heuston. After a long moment, she turned her head mockingly, still looking unsatisfied. “Sterling Shaw, you have to be married to get a divorce. We have nothing between us, so what are you divorcing me for?” Understanding Chelah’s implication, my heart sank. I pulled out the marriage certificate I always carried, about to prove her wrong. “Idiot. It was just an act with an actress, and you actually fell for it.” Chelah snatched the certificate, tearing it to shreds in a few swift motions, then casually tossed the pieces on me. “Since the cards are on the table, I’ll stop pretending. Austin and I registered our marriage ages ago. What you have is just a fake I bought online for three bucks.” The certificate, carefully preserved for three years, cherished and spotless, instantly became confetti, scattering across the floor. My wife, with whom I had shared a bed for three years, had actually deceived me with a fake document! Their supposed animosity towards each other was all an act for my benefit! I felt as if I’d been brutally slapped, my face burning red. After savoring my expression enough, Austin Heuston patted Chelah’s butt with satisfaction, grinning widely. “Chelah, I owe my success today all to you. Tell me how you want to celebrate later, and I’m all yours.” These words hit me like a thunderbolt, instantly blanketing my mind. No wonder, no wonder three days ago, Chelah, usually so reserved, was suddenly incredibly passionate in bed, clinging to me again and again. While I was groggy with sleep, she’d playfully mentioned she’d fallen in love with a house. I signed without suspicion, never imagining I was being manipulated into waiving my inheritance! “Beat it, unless you want to watch a live show.” Austin Heuston looked down at me, waving his hand as if shooing a dog, his hand playfully caressing Chelah’s lower back. I couldn’t take it anymore. I roared, lunging forward and landing a fierce punch on Austin Heuston’s face. Austin Heuston was hit squarely, screaming as he tumbled to the ground. “Ah!” Chelah’s face paled. She shrieked curses, grabbing my hand. “You bastard! I treated you well, and this is how you repay me?!” I backhanded Chelah across the face. Her head snapped to the side, her cheek swelling instantly. Hearing my words, Chelah’s pupils contracted sharply, her eyes burning with hatred. She was about to demand an explanation. Just then, Austin Heuston recovered, pointing at me and yelling furiously. “Are you all trying to get fired?! Where are the security guards?!” A rush of hurried footsteps. Over a dozen burly security guards poured in, surrounding me. I struggled desperately, but they outnumbered me. I was pinned firmly to the ground. “Smack! Smack! Smack!” The slaps grew heavier, landing hard on my face. Austin Heuston only stopped when his palms ached from hitting me. Everyone gasped, wincing at my disfigured face. “Throw him out and let him fend for himself! Anyone who dares to help him is going against Heuston Industries!” 2 I was roughly thrown to the ground, the friction of my skin against shattered rock sending waves of pain through my body. Every breath was agony. One man, leading the charge, strode up and kicked me squarely in the chest. I groaned, nearly spitting blood from the impact. Through a haze of pain, I heard sycophantic flattery from above. “Mr. Heuston, a trash-picking lowlife daring to lay hands on you? He’s got a death wish.” I looked up to see none other than my deputy, Mark Randysek! He bowed and scraped behind Austin Heuston, pointing an accusatory finger at me and cursing, as if we were sworn enemies. My employees, who used to treat me with utmost respect, were now vying to curse me, afraid of being left behind. “Yeah, who doesn’t know Heuston Industries is Mr. Heuston’s domain now? Since when do trash pickers get to enter the corporate gates?” “I’ve always disliked him, putting on airs with Mr. Heuston. He totally deserved that beating!” “If you ask me, Mr. Heuston inheriting the leadership is what everyone wants. The loser should just stay put and not try to cause trouble.” I abruptly looked up, my gaze sweeping over the circle of people, my heart utterly cold. Since taking office, I had reformed policies, implemented weekends off, and strictly adhered to an eight-hour workday. Company salaries and benefits had significantly increased. Countless employees had come to me, expressing their fervent gratitude. Especially my deputy, Mark Randysek. I had personally promoted him from a penniless, clueless young man to a position earning over 100,000 a month. But now that I was out of favor, the employees who were once so grateful to me instantly turned. Everyone was eager to kick me while I was down, all to curry favor with Austin Heuston. I endured the intense pain and slowly stood up, giving everyone one last look before turning to leave. The mocking, scornful gazes behind me felt like poisoned needles piercing my skin. I walked step by step back to the junkyard Austin Heuston had discarded me into, my pockets empty, unable to even afford a taxi. My accounts had been frozen, all my assets seized. With Austin Heuston’s blacklist, no one dared to help me. It wasn’t until my feet were bleeding that I finally reached the junkyard Austin Heuston had contemptuously cast aside. The place reeked, piled high with all sorts of scrap metal, enough to make anyone keep their distance. But only I knew that what Dad had hidden here before his death was enough to turn my fortunes around. I set down roots in the junkyard, spending my days collecting scrap. Meanwhile, Austin Heuston and Chelah Vance almost daily dominated headlines, flaunting their love. While I ate steamed buns with thin porridge, Austin Heuston and Chelah Vance flew to the States for a truffle chocolate ice cream. While I bought nine-dollar, free-shipping T-shirts on the internet, Austin Heuston lavished thousands on opening a clothing company, just for Chelah Vance to pick clothes from. While I was stared at and whispered about in public, Austin Heuston frequently appeared with Chelah Vance at elite galas, praised by all. Reporters relentlessly disparaged me, using my disheveled appearance to highlight their glamour. I remained unperturbed, settling into life at the junkyard. A month later, I unearthed a filthy vase from deep within the rubbish piles, instantly overjoyed. I hastily wiped away the surface grime, revealing intricate patterns underneath. Just as I was carefully putting the vase away, a burlap sack suddenly dropped from above. 3 Caught off guard, I was covered, stumbled, and fell to the ground. The next second, punches rained down on me. I groaned in pain, clutching the vase tightly, refusing to let go. Time ticked by, and my breath grew weaker. The attacker took the opportunity, violently tearing off the sack, trying to snatch the vase from my hands. I let out a low growl like a cornered beast, finding strength from somewhere, and bit hard into the person’s hand. “Ah!” Mark Randysek’s face instantly twisted in pain. He forcefully pulled his hand back, a piece of flesh actually torn off by my bite. Mark Randysek instantly erupted in fury, roaring at the people beside him. “Damn it! I’m going to beat him to death today! Grab him now!” Hearing this, two men efficiently seized me, holding me firmly. Mark Randysek cursed, then violently kicked my knee. With a sickening “snap,” I felt my bone shatter. My knees slammed hard against the rough stones, making a cringe-inducing sound. My teeth chattered from the pain, cold sweat drenched my body, leaving me feeling like I’d just been pulled from water. “Mark Randysek, I don’t understand why you would do this to me.” My face was pale, my lips trembling, as I painfully forced out these words. “You only have yourself to blame.” Mark Randysek looked at me like I was a freak, as if baffled by such a foolish question, explaining as if it were obvious. “Blame yourself for being useless, for not being able to hold onto your inheritance.” “I went against Mr. Heuston so many times for you, all because I wanted a promotion and a good life.” “Now Mr. Heuston is in power. If I don’t show him my loyalty, how am I supposed to get by in the conglomerate?!” Under the intense pain, my consciousness gradually blurred. In a haze, I recalled Mark Randysek’s indignant expression when he first learned of Austin Heuston’s existence. “Damn it! That bastard illegitimate son killed the old lady and still has the nerve to come to the company? Don’t worry, boss, I won’t let him off easy. I’ll make him pay for you!” After that, Mark Randysek and Austin Heuston were at loggerheads. He cursed Austin Heuston’s dubious origins more than once, humiliating him in public. I thought Mark Randysek was fiercely loyal to me, and I was deeply touched, treating him even more like a younger brother. “Well, well, the quality isn’t bad. Hoping to make a comeback with this, huh? Good thing Mr. Heuston is prescient and gave me this chance to redeem myself.” A triumphant, boastful voice reached my ears, and I jolted awake. The vase had been snatched by Mark Randysek at some point. “No!” I watched the vase teetering precariously in Mark Randysek’s hand, reaching out fearfully. “Letting you off for old times’ sake isn’t out of the question.” Mark Randysek chuckled, unconcealed malice swirling in his eyes, feigning understanding as he suggested. “How about you eat this piece of trash, and I’ll give the vase back to you?” I lowered my head, gritting my teeth, my body involuntarily trembling. In a matter of seconds, Mark Randysek lost patience. He abruptly grabbed the vase, clearly about to smash it down hard. “I’ll eat it.” I squeezed out two words through clenched teeth, my hands trembling as I picked up the foul-smelling garbage, forcing myself to swallow it despite the nausea. The surroundings immediately erupted in boisterous laughter that almost tore the roof off. Mark Randysek stifled his laughter, recording the video. The next instant, with a “smash,” Mark Randysek flicked his wrist, and the vase fell to the ground, shattering into pieces. “Oops, my bad, it slipped.” My eyes burned with fury. I was about to lunge at Mark Randysek to fight him to the death. Mark Randysek easily kicked me, exhausted, to the ground. “Mr. Heuston and Ms. Vance’s wedding reception is in seven days. If you don’t show up, you know the consequences.” I lay on the ground, gasping for breath like a dead dog, as Mark Randysek knelt down and slapped a beautifully designed invitation onto my face, threatening me. “Come on, the billionaire’s son is eating trash. Even dogs wouldn’t eat what the billionaire’s son is eating. We won’t compete with the billionaire’s son; let him eat his fill. We’re going for a fancy dinner!” It wasn’t until their figures completely disappeared that my eyes suddenly narrowed. The scattered vase shards lay nearby, but I didn’t spare them a single glance. Instead, I carefully felt my pocket. 4 Late at night, in the quiet of my junkyard, I finally saw what was inside, my eyes widening in disbelief. A plan quietly formed in my mind. I hadn’t been idle these seven days. Chelah Vance’s hateful gaze from the office that day had haunted me. Armed with the secret my father left behind, I used my last connections to investigate an old case, and indeed, I uncovered something interesting. On the day of the wedding, I pushed open the grand hall doors. The moment I stepped inside, the elegantly dressed elites wrinkled their noses in disgust. “Where did this beggar come from? This isn’t a soup kitchen. Security, get him out of here!” “Oh, can’t you recognize him? That’s the famous Sterling Shaw. He’s the billionaire’s son, but now he looks like a stray dog. How pathetic.” I offered a slight smile, ignoring them, and strode to a corner to await the ceremony. Chelah Vance, arm in arm with Austin Heuston, came to greet me. After a few months, her belly was noticeably swollen. Not seeing me in a state of disarray, Chelah seemed a little disappointed. But then, remembering something, she defiantly puffed out her chest, sneering triumphantly. “Sterling Shaw, I’m pregnant. Austin isn’t useless like you. I spent three years with you, and my belly never made a sound.” Even though my heart had died, Chelah’s words still cut a gash in it, throbbing painfully. The night Chelah and I consummated our marriage, she tearfully confessed that she had a naturally thin uterine wall and couldn’t conceive. I didn’t blame her for hiding it; I treated her even better. But as time passed, the gossip grew more intense. Many long-tongued women called Chelah a barren hen, and a stream of girls were sent to my bed. Afraid Chelah would feel burdened, I took the blame, announcing publicly that I had azoospermia, shifting the blame to myself. That finally quelled the rumors. Recalling our handful of intimate moments over three years, I clenched my fists tightly. It turned out Chelah wasn’t naturally cold or unloving; she was saving herself for Austin Heuston. Even her infertility was a lie; she just didn’t want to bear my child! I lowered my head, concealing the turbulent storm within, my teeth digging into my flesh. “Sterling Shaw, what happened three years ago should finally be settled.” Seeing that I wasn’t resisting, Chelah “hmphed” disinterestedly. She paid no mind to my reaction, dropped her statement, and turned to leave. I didn’t miss the hint of malicious satisfaction in Chelah’s voice, a sense of long-awaited revenge. A bad premonition arose. The wedding began. Austin Heuston and Chelah Vance walked onto the stage under everyone’s gaze, the atmosphere electric. Just as the two were about to exchange rings, Chelah suddenly snatched the microphone, her eyes brimming with tears, and shouted at me with hatred. “Sterling Shaw, three years ago you hit my mother with your car and then used your power to escape jail time.” “I’ve bided my time for three years, and finally I’ve brought you down. I’m going to make you rot in prison!” This bombshell news immediately caused an uproar, murmurs filling the venue. “What?! Sterling Shaw helping Chelah Vance’s mother at the hospital was even in the local charity news! Was it all an act?!” Almost the next second, police burst through the doors, pulling out handcuffs without a word, ready to arrest and convict me. “I’d like to see who dares lay a hand on me!” I spoke with a deep, calm authority. Chelah immediately screamed at me like a madwoman. “Do you think you’re still the billionaire’s son?! Your dad is dead! Now Austin is the master of the Shaw family!” I calmly raised the object in my hand, speaking each word distinctly. “My father only had one son. Since when can a stranger with no blood relation waltz into someone else’s house and claim to be the master?”

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