1 All because I smoked a cigarette in the designated smoking area, the new Vice President docked my department’s million-dollar bonus. “The moment I stepped into the smoking area and lit up, you posted a no-smoking policy in the company-wide chat. Are you targeting me on purpose?” “Yes,” she said with a smug grin. “I’m making an example of you.” “Fine, punish me. But the department bonus isn’t mine alone—it belongs to the whole team. You can’t punish them for what I did.” “Why didn’t they report you? They deserve to be punished right along with you!” she shot back, her voice sharp and merciless. “Fine,” I said with a faint smile. “I accept the punishment.” Then I immediately applied for my annual leave. A day later, the entire company was in a desperate frenzy, trying to find me. … “Lia, the company just issued a no-smoking policy, and you’re already flouting the rules! This is outrageous! As a penalty, I am hereby announcing that your department’s entire quarterly bonus is revoked!” The new VP, Vivian Shaw, clicked her stilettos across the floor and stormed into the smoking area, her voice echoing with indignation. “What no-smoking policy?” I asked, a half-smoked cigarette still between my fingers, my face a mask of confusion. “Did you just say you’re docking our department’s entire one-million-dollar bonus for the quarter?” “That’s right! The entire million-dollar bonus is gone!” Vivian deliberately raised her voice. Her shout jolted my colleagues, who were napping at their desks in our office, wide awake. They all stared at me in disbelief. This quarter, our product design department had pulled countless all-nighters to land a massive contract, bringing in over a hundred million in revenue for the company. The Chairman himself had personally approved the million-dollar bonus. Today was payday, the end of the quarter. Our bonuses were supposed to be included. And just like that, with a single sentence from Vivian, it was all gone? “First thing this morning, I posted the new company regulations in the group chat,” she snapped. “The very first rule is a company-wide ban on smoking to protect the health of our employees. You’re a department manager. Don’t you even read company announcements? Now, put out that cigarette!” “I walked into the smoking area and lit my cigarette before you posted that rule in the chat. Are you targeting me on purpose?” I opened my phone. The timestamp on her post was just moments after I’d stepped outside. It was perfectly timed. “Yes, I am!” she declared, a triumphant smirk on her face. “I needed to make an example of someone.” “Your product design department, and especially you, its manager, have been strutting around this company like you own the place for too long. Since you’re so eager to stick your neck out, you’re the perfect one to sacrifice to establish my authority.” Vivian preened, theatrically wafting away the smoke I’d exhaled. “Ms. Shaw, this is a designated smoking area. I wasn’t smoking inside the main office,” I stated, my voice even and calm. Our department was the busiest in the company. We were constantly working overtime, and design work is mentally draining. Everyone on my team smoked. To accommodate us, the Chairman had given us a corner office with an attached terrace specifically for smoking, ensuring the smoke never drifted into the rest of the building. I had even paid out of my own pocket to install a high-powered, imported air purifier in our office and stocked up on smoke-eliminating spray and mouthwash. I made it a strict rule for my team: before leaving our office area, you spray down and use mouthwash. We did it to avoid bothering colleagues who were sensitive to smoke, and in all the years, there had never been a single complaint. “Isn’t the terrace company property? Did you not read the rule? The ban is company-wide!” “Ms. Shaw, did the Chairman approve this penalty?” I knew she was targeting me, so I had no choice but to bring up the big boss. My team and I had just pulled an all-nighter to finish the designs for a new client, finally securing the deal. We were all exhausted, practically dead on our feet, sleeping at our desks without even having had breakfast. When the official workday started, two other colleagues who were still awake and I had come out to the terrace for a smoke to wake ourselves up. They’d finished theirs and gone back inside to rest. I had a meeting coming up, so I lit a second one for a final jolt of energy. I had already seen Vivian hiding nearby, spying on our office through the glass. She had deliberately waited until I was alone to make her move. “The penalty notice has already been signed by the General Manager. See for yourself!” she said, shoving a document in my face. “And in a few minutes, I’ll be sending out a company-wide email to publicly censure you!” So, she wasn’t even pretending. She’d had the penalty notice drawn up and signed before she’d even “caught” me. “Ms. Shaw, I was the one smoking. It was my violation. Fine me, I accept it. But the department bonus isn’t just mine. You can dock my portion, but you can’t punish the entire team for my actions.” “Why didn’t they report you? They deserve to be punished right along with you!” she retorted, her tone merciless. Then she leaned in close, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Let me be honest, Lia. I’m doing this so they’ll all resent you for losing their money.” “Such a clever plan, Ms. Shaw. Fine. I accept the punishment.” I paused. “Just don’t come to regret this.” I took one last, long drag from my cigarette, crushed the butt under my heel, and blew the smoke directly into her face. “Lia, this is obviously a setup! Are we just going to take this?” “No way, Lia! We can’t let that bitch Vivian walk all over us! You have to go to the Chairman!” “Are you an idiot? The Chairman is in Europe for a conference. Vivian deliberately waited until he was out of the country to pull this.” “My bonus… I promised my wife I’d buy her a new bag with it. Damn it!” After Vivian had strutted away, my team gathered around me, fuming. Of course, I knew it was a setup. The fact that she had a penalty notice signed by the General Manager, Mark, was all the proof I needed that they had officially declared war on me. Mark was a portly, greasy middle-aged man. On a business trip once, he’d tried to get me drunk and then used a spare key card to get into my hotel room in the middle of the night. Fortunately, I was prepared. I used a self-defense move that nearly cost him his family jewels, and he had scrambled out of my room, whimpering. He’d held a grudge ever since. It was no secret that Vivian was Mark’s mistress. In her paranoid little mind, she had convinced herself that I was also his mistress and therefore her rival. She’d been spreading vicious rumors about me for years—that I’d slept my way to my position, that I’d had orgies with clients on business trips, that I’d performed stripteases on dining tables, that she’d personally seen me at a clinic getting an abortion. But Vivian’s plan to turn my team against me was a spectacular failure. Everyone in the company knew that the product design department was the most unified team. There were two reasons for that. One, my skills were undeniable, and under my leadership, they produced outstanding work. Two, I was fiercely protective of my people. I fought tooth and nail for every benefit and every bonus they deserved. They made good money with me. “Everyone, calm down. What’s there to be afraid of?” I said, a cool, confident smile playing on my lips. “Vivian is coming after me. She thinks she can grind me into the dust? In her dreams.” “I promise you all, you will not lose a single cent of that million-dollar bonus. If the company refuses to pay it, I will cover it myself.” The colleague who had mentioned his wife’s bag blushed and scratched his head. “Lia, that’s not what I meant…” “I know. You all worked your asses off this quarter. You earned that bonus, and Vivian Shaw is not going to take it from you.” “Alright, you’ve all been up all night. Go home, get some real sleep. Come back in tomorrow.” I started ushering my team, with their dark circles and bloodshot eyes, towards the door. “But Lia, Apex Holdings is coming tomorrow to review the final designs! We’re not finished yet!” “Yeah, Lia! Vivian just set you up. If we all leave now, she’ll just use it as another excuse to come after you.” Their concern was genuine. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this. There won’t be any problems. I’ll handle the finishing touches. The Chairman approved a flexible work schedule for our department, remember?” With my insistence, the entire team finally went home. Moments later, Vivian posted the official penalty notice in the company-wide group chat. She also sent a mass email, with my name, Lia Vance, in bold and enlarged font, ensuring no one could possibly miss it. The email concluded with another bolded sentence: “This company has a zero-tolerance policy for secondhand smoke. Lia Vance has deliberately flouted the rules, showing a blatant disregard for the health of her colleagues. This is both foolish and malicious. Any further infractions will result in immediate termination.” “A million dollars, just like that? Vivian is playing dirty with Lia.” “Serves her right! The design department gets the biggest bonuses every year. Why should they get so much when the rest of us get so little? Let’s see how arrogant that slut is now!” I had just walked into the restroom when I overheard two women from another department gossiping. “You. Out,” I said, glaring at the one who hadn’t been speaking. She scurried away, head down. Smack! I grabbed the other woman by the hair and delivered two sharp slaps across her face. “Lia! What the hell! You can’t just hit people!” she shrieked, clutching her cheek. But when she met my cold, murderous gaze, her bravado vanished. “Get out.” From the restroom, I went straight to HR and submitted a request for my annual leave. I hadn’t taken a vacation in three years. It was about time. “Lia, this request needs to be signed by Ms. Shaw,” the HR manager said, looking at me with an apologetic, knowing glance. “That’s another one of the new rules she implemented today.” “Fine.” I took the form and went directly to Vivian’s office. “Ms. Shaw, I’m taking my annual leave. I need your signature.” “Lia, I thought you were here to resign,” she said, a wicked smile playing on her lips as she took the form. “I’ll resign after my vacation. You win, Ms. Shaw. I can’t compete with you. I’m too humiliated to show my face here anymore.” “I just want to use up my vacation days and get a little extra pay. You wouldn’t deny me that small comfort, would you?” I kept my head down, feigning a look of defeated resignation. “Oh, Lia, you can’t resign!” Vivian giggled. “If you leave, who will I have to torment?” She scribbled her signature on the form with a flourish. I snatched the paper from her without a word and turned to leave. You idiot, I thought. Let’s see how long that smile lasts. I packed my things, making sure to lock the box of premium Cohiba cigars—the Apex Holdings CEO’s favorite—in my desk drawer. Then I turned off my phone and began my vacation. “Lia, the CEO of Apex is furious! He’s threatening to cancel the contract! Mark is freaking out and screaming at us to find you immediately.” My team member, Leo, was laughing as he spoke to me on my backup phone. “No rush,” I said calmly. “I have thirty days of vacation. We’ll talk when I get back.” “Lia, you won’t believe this. Mark started calling us into his office one by one, trying to turn us against you. He promised to immediately reinstate the quarterly bonus for whoever could find you and get you to come back. The old bastard is really desperate. I heard the Chairman called him from Europe and chewed him out. Told him that if the Apex project falls through, he’ll be held personally responsible.” The next day, as I was lounging on a beach chair, smoking a cigarette and watching the waves, Leo called again. “And?” I asked. “Don’t worry, our department is solid. I’m keeping an eye on things. No one gave him your backup number. We all told him your main phone is off and you’re not responding to any emails or messages. We have no way to contact you.” Leo was still chuckling, clearly enjoying the chaos. “Good. Let them sweat.” With that, I hung up. “Lia, the Chairman flew back from Europe. This thing has really blown up,” Leo reported that evening. “Mark has been trying everything to appease the Apex CEO—sending women to his hotel, showering him with gifts—but the guy isn’t biting. He left a final message: he wants to see you within three days, or the deal is off. Then he flew back to the capital. When the Chairman heard Mark couldn’t handle it, he flew straight to the capital himself, presumably to beg for forgiveness.” “Understood. Keep me posted,” I said, lying back on my plush hotel bed and turning on a movie. Vacation was bliss. “Lia, the Chairman is back, and he looks like he’s about to kill someone. The whole office is dead silent. Mark and Vivian look like naughty schoolchildren. They’ve been coming to our office a dozen times a day, trying to get any information about you. They’re in a total panic. You should see the look on Vivian’s face. It’s worse than a funeral.” “Oh, right, the important stuff! The Chairman came to our office too. He said our quarterly bonus has been fully reinstated. It’s already in our accounts. Did you get yours?” “And then… he asked us, almost begged us, if anyone could get in touch with you. Lia, is it time? Is the pot boiling?” “Should we give him your number? I think it’s time to come back. If we really lose the Apex contract, all our hard work will have been for nothing. What do you think?” Leo called again the next morning. “Alright, I’ll call the Chairman now. When I get back, I want to see the look on Vivian’s face.” After hanging up with Leo, I dialed the Chairman’s number. “Lia! You’ve finally surfaced! I was about to have a heart attack!” “I’ve gotten to the bottom of this whole situation. It’s all because of those two idiots, Vivian and Mark. I’ve already given them a severe reprimand.” “Lia, please come back. The Apex project… only you can handle it. Their CEO, Mr. Sterling, will only work with you. If you close this deal, I’ll double your department’s bonus. Two million dollars. What do you say?” The Chairman’s voice was laced with anxiety. “Chairman, I can come back. But this business with Vivian… are we just letting it go?” “Of course not! Her reckless behavior has caused a massive problem for this company. I will punish her severely. And as for how… I’ll let you decide. You call the shots.” “Alright. In that case, I have a few conditions.” “Lia, name your price! Anything you want! Just get back here and lock down this Apex deal. I’ll agree to anything!” The Chairman was truly desperate. The Apex project would bring in over a billion in revenue, with profits in the hundreds of millions. As the owner of the company, he wasn’t about to let that slip through his fingers. “Okay,” I said. “I’m on my way back.” “Chairman, I want a public apology from Vivian Shaw. To me, and to my entire department.”

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1 My funeral was grand, fitting for a duke’s wife. As I lay in my coffin, guests whispered of my blessed life—a respected husband, devoted children, a lifetime of honor. No one knew the truth. No one knew I had been locked in the cellar and starved to death. My husband, Duke Alistair, leaned on my casket and sighed with false grief. “Don’t blame me, Elara. You forced this marriage on me when I was ill. You stole the title from the woman I loved—condemning Liana to be a hidden mistress for decades. She is kind and gentle,” he continued venomously. “You bullied her for thirty years. Now I can finally make her my wife properly. Consider this your atonement.” On the seventh day of my wake, he moved Liana into my rooms with bells and celebration. I died bitter and full of hate. Then, I was reborn. This time, I took my dowry and prepared to leave—to let the tragic lovers have their miserable ending. But when I tried, Alistair tore our annulment papers to shreds and fell to his knees like a madman, begging me to return. … I awoke on the night my daughter, Rosalie, planned to elope. I had just intercepted her, and she stood before me now, eyes red-rimmed and blazing with resentment as she pointed an accusing finger. “What do you know? Leo is a brilliant man! The only reason he hasn’t found success is because lesser men are jealous of his talent!” she spat. “We are in love! You’re just trying to ruin my happiness!” In my last life, I had investigated this “brilliant” man, Leo. I discovered he already had a wife and children back in his village. Worse, he was a petty thief with the morals of an alley cat. When I presented Rosalie with this evidence, she broke off contact with him immediately. Six months later, I used half of my personal fortune as her dowry, securing her a marriage to the kingdom’s most promising King’s Scholar. She ascended the social ladder with him, becoming one of the most celebrated ladies in the capital. Years later, when my legs were paralyzed and I was imprisoned in that damp cellar, Rosalie appeared, draped in silks and jewels. I clutched at the hem of her gown, my voice a dry rasp. “Rosalie, please. I haven’t eaten in three days. Can you just… give me a piece of bread?” Her response was a vicious kick that sent me sprawling. “You have the nerve to ask for food?” she hissed. “If I hadn’t listened to your lies and broken things off with Leo, he wouldn’t have been so destitute he had to steal a wallet. He wouldn’t have been beaten to death in the street!” Tears of rage streamed down her perfect face. “Do you have any idea what you took from me? He was the first man I ever loved. The King’s Scholar can shower me with kindness, but he will never be him.” She didn’t just resent me for ruining her first love; she hated me for separating her from her “real” mother. After marrying Alistair, I suffered through nine stillbirths. The ordeal broke my body, leaving me barren. So, Alistair had his mistress Liana’s two children legally registered as my own, for me to raise. Liana was a mere songstress. I was the only daughter of a powerful Duke, the Queen’s own niece. Under my name, Rosalie’s station was elevated beyond her wildest dreams. And now, she glared at me as if I were her jailer. “If my real mother were here, she would never stop me from being with the man I love! You just can’t stand to see me happy!” A memory of the cellar, of the gnawing hunger and her final, cruel kick, flashed through my mind. A slow, cold smile touched my lips. “You’re right,” I said, my voice calm. “It was wrong of me to separate you from your mother. Since I’ve made you so unhappy, perhaps I should simply return you to Liana’s care. It’s the least I can do to honor your deep mother-daughter bond.” Rosalie’s face froze. “No,” she blurted out, the word escaping before she could stop it. To do so would be to announce to the world that she, Rosalie, was not the granddaughter of a great Duke, but the bastard child of a common performer. Her status, the fawning admiration of the other noble daughters—it would all evaporate in an instant. “That’s enough.” The sharp rebuke came from the doorway. Alistair entered, Liana clinging delicately to his arm. “What nonsense are you spouting now, Elara? Rosalie is just a child. You can’t hold a grudge against her. If you can’t even command the respect of a child, perhaps you should reflect on your own failings as a matriarch.” I looked at Alistair’s face, so much younger than I remembered it, and felt a wave of pure hatred wash over me. When he had been gravely ill, the old Duke, his father, heard a prophecy that only a union with a daughter of my House could save his son. He knelt before my own father and begged for my hand. Moved by his love for his child, I agreed. After our wedding, Alistair’s health miraculously improved day by day. He was outwardly grateful, but secretly, he seethed with resentment, believing I had stolen his true love’s rightful place. It wasn’t until I was dying that I learned the truth about my nine pregnancies. They hadn’t been stillbirths. Each time, I had delivered a healthy, living child. And each time, while I lay unconscious from the ordeal, Alistair himself had ordered the infant to be taken away and drowned. He did it so I would have no child of my own, so I would devote myself entirely to raising his and Liana’s children. The moment Rosalie saw Liana, she crumpled, throwing herself into the woman’s arms with a gut-wrenching sob as if she’d been mortally wounded. Liana embraced her, her own eyes misting over. “Oh, my darling. If only I had the right to decide for you, I would never let you suffer so.” They clung to each other, a portrait of tragic, maternal love. Alistair’s heart visibly ached for them. He turned on me, his voice lashing out. “I should have known. You can’t truly care for a child that isn’t your own. I was a fool to think you would treat her well.” He gestured angrily at Rosalie’s hand. “Look! You’ve even injured her!” The tiny scratch on Rosalie’s hand was from when she had hurled a vase at my head moments earlier. The three of them stared at me with matching expressions of disgust, as if I were the villain who had torn their perfect family apart. I was too weary to explain. Instead, I looked at Rosalie and said evenly, “Since your birth parents feel so strongly, I will grant your wish. You have my permission to be with your Leo.” I remembered the fortune I’d spent, the favors I’d called in, all to secure her marriage to the brilliant King’s Scholar in my past life. Rosalie didn’t deserve the future I had built for her. Her eyes lit up with triumph, but the color drained from Liana’s face. She had never approved of some penniless scholar she wouldn’t normally spare a second glance for. She had only supported Rosalie’s infatuation because she was certain I would forbid it, creating a rift between me and the girl. It was her favorite tactic. She never imagined I would simply agree. Liana’s face was a mask of fury. She wanted to object, but couldn’t find the words. Just then, a hulking shape barreled into the room and slammed into me, sending a sharp, radiating pain through my side. It was Liana’s son, Gideon. He glared at me, his eyes burning with malice. “You’re bullying my sister and my mother again! You think this will make us call you ‘Mother’? Dream on! We will never accept you.” His voice rose to a childish shriek. “When I grow up, I’ll make sure the whole city knows what a wicked, evil woman you are! You stole us from our mother just so you could torture us every day!” I frowned, almost failing to recognize the boy who now weighed nearly three hundred pounds. In my past life, I had been told that his obesity would affect his health and his ability to produce an heir, not to mention the ridicule he would face. So, I forced him to exercise daily and personally oversaw his portioned meals. Because of this, he grew into a strong and powerful man. His physical prowess on the battlefield earned him the title of ‘General of the Realm,’ securing him a future of power and glory. The first thing Gideon did upon his triumphant return was to order his men to deliver me a single bowl of dog’s food every other day. I could still hear his gleeful laughter. “You tortured me, starved me! Now you get a taste of your own medicine! You claimed it was ‘for my own good,’ you venomous snake. My mother told me the truth: the fatter I am, the stronger I’ll be! If you hadn’t forced me to lose weight, I would have been a general years sooner!” So that was it. My constant care, my meticulous planning, my every waking concern for his well-being—it had all been twisted into hatred. A sharp, familiar pain lanced through my heart, mingling with the fresh burn of resentment. The people I had poured my entire soul into caring for had become the very daggers that ended my life. I lifted my gaze to meet Liana’s. She was hiding behind Alistair, a triumphant smirk playing on her lips. Before I could speak, Gideon’s massive body blocked my view again. “What are you planning now?” he demanded, his voice laced with suspicion. “Are you thinking of how to hurt my mother? You touch her, and I swear, I will make you pay when I’m a man.” My heart felt like a frozen lake. I looked from him to Rosalie, my voice devoid of all emotion. “From now on, you will no longer have to exercise. You will no longer have to eat those ‘terrible’ meals.” I let the words hang in the air. “From this day forward, you have only one mother, and her name is Liana. You are nothing to me.” The two of them, who had been glaring at me with such pure hatred, simply stared, momentarily stunned into silence. Without another glance at any of them, I turned and walked out of the room. After leaving the estate, I went directly to the royal palace to request an audience with my aunt, the Queen. The last time I had seen her was just after my wedding, when she had gifted me a treasure trove of priceless heirlooms. This time, I came with only one request: a royal decree to annul my marriage to Alistair. The Ducal estate had been bleeding money for years, a fact I had hidden by constantly supplementing its accounts with my own dowry funds. If I asked Alistair for a divorce directly, he would never let me leave with my fortune intact. The Queen was taken aback. “Elara, are you certain? You cannot bear children. Do you know how many women in this kingdom envy you for Alistair’s devotion in spite of that?” A bitter taste filled my mouth. She didn’t know. She didn’t know that to ensure I would raise Liana’s children as my own, Alistair had personally murdered nine of ours. I closed my eyes for a moment, then met her gaze, my voice unwavering. “I am certain. And I will not regret this.” “Very well,” she said, her expression hardening with resolve. “I will speak to the King on your behalf.” When I returned to the estate, Rosalie was already happily choosing fabrics for her wedding dress. Liana stood beside her, her smile strained. She didn’t want to anger her daughter, but she was silently cursing me for not intervening. Rosalie saw me and rolled her eyes as if I were a bad omen. Then, a thought occurred to her, and she spoke with undisguised impatience. “Leo has already sent the betrothal gift. You need to prepare my dowry. I heard that when you married Father, your dowry was five thousand acres of land, countless properties, and chests of silver.” She looked me dead in the eye. “Mine can be no less than that.” I almost laughed out loud. The sheer audacity. My grandfather was the Royal Treasurer, a man whose wealth rivaled kingdoms. I was his most beloved granddaughter, and he had nearly emptied his vaults for my dowry. Rosalie was the daughter of a songstress, marrying a penniless, two-bit scholar. And she dared to make such demands. Just then, a servant entered, hesitantly holding a sickly-looking goose and a small pouch. “My Lady, the betrothal gift from the young miss’s fiancé has arrived.” The pouch clinked with the sound of ten silver coins. A snort of laughter escaped me before I could stop it. Rosalie instantly exploded. “I told Leo not to worry about a grand gesture! It’s not his fault he’s a scholar and has no money! My dowry will be more than enough to support us both!” Liana seized the opportunity to chime in. “That’s right, Your Grace. Rosalie is your daughter now. You can’t be stingy with her dowry. Think of the family’s reputation.” In my last life, I had given her nearly half of my entire fortune. Even with her reckless spending, it would have been enough to ensure her comfort for the rest of her days. But things were different now. I had no connection to this house, and she was no longer my daughter. “You’ve never acknowledged me as your mother,” I said slowly, letting each word land. “You’ve only ever wanted Liana. It seems only right that your real mother should be the one to provide your dowry.” Liana panicked. “Why should I have to pay? I have no money!” She realized how quickly she had refused and bit her lip, her eyes welling with crocodile tears. “I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to force me away from my own daughter. But I only want to see her happy.” She dabbed at her eyes. “If you don’t want me here, I’ll go. Just please, don’t take your anger out on poor Rosalie.” She turned to run, weeping, and collided perfectly with Alistair’s chest as he entered the room. He wrapped his arms around her, frowning at me in displeasure. “What is this now, Elara? Haven’t you pushed Liana far enough? You’re deliberately trying to provoke her. Your cruelty knows no bounds. Apologize to her at once.” Gideon had appeared from somewhere as well, planting his bulky frame in front of Liana like a shield. His tiny eyes, nearly swallowed by his fleshy cheeks, glared at me as if I were about to strike her. They looked at me as if I were a monster, the sole obstacle to their happy family of four. A humorless smile touched my lips. “If my presence is so distasteful to all of you, then I will simply leave.” “What madness are you on about now?” Alistair snapped, his patience wearing thin. “I am not mad, Alistair. I want an annulment.” I let my gaze sweep over all of them. “You blame me for stealing Liana’s rightful place? Fine. I’m giving it back. Rosalie, Gideon—you want to be with your real mother? Your wish is granted.” For some reason, my declaration was met with a stunned silence. After a long moment, Rosalie scoffed. “Do you really think she’ll leave? She’s just trying to scare us.” She turned to me, her expression dripping with scorn. “You’re a barren old woman. The moment word gets out, you’ll be the laughingstock of the entire city. Who do you think would possibly want you now, Elara?” Gideon seemed to relax at her words, a mocking smirk replacing his tension. “You throw this household into chaos every day. Father is merciful enough not to cast you out entirely, and you’re still not satisfied? What more could you possibly want?” I ignored them, tossing a thick ledger onto the table in front of them. “I will not touch a single thing that belongs to this house. But my dowry—everything I brought with me—I am taking it all.” “You wouldn’t dare!” Rosalie shrieked, her voice high and piercing. “I’m getting married! That’s my dowry! I’m telling you, if you want to leave, then go! But you’re not taking a single coin with you!” Liana grew anxious as well. Their extravagant lifestyle was funded by me subsidizing the estate’s ledgers. If I took my fortune, the well would run dry. Alistair’s brow remained tightly furrowed. “You have been my wife for over a decade,” he said, his tone severe. “You’re still drawing lines between what is yours and what is ours? It’s clear you never once considered this your home.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Go, if you must. But don’t come crying back to me when you regret it. And the contents of the treasury have nothing to do with you. They belong to this house.” Seeing me remain silent, he must have thought his threats had worked. His voice softened. “Alright, that’s enough. If you apologize properly, I will allow you to continue raising the children. They may not accept you now, but with time and proper care, they will eventually come to see you as their mother.” A cold laugh echoed in my mind. What a perfect plan. In my last life, I had cared for them, schemed for them, spent my fortune, and ruined my health for them, only to be murdered by their own hands. I couldn’t wait to see how this life would turn out for them, now that they could no longer feed on me like leeches. Rosalie would marry her beloved scholar. Gideon could indulge his every gluttonous whim. And Alistair could finally have his precious Liana. Let them have everything they ever wanted. Alistair was about to say more when a servant burst into the room, his face pale with panic. “My Lord! A royal decree has arrived from the palace!”

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I was the true heir of Blackwood Manor, lost for forty years. When the Blackwood family finally found me, I already had three children. The day I returned, my father, Duke Alistair Blackwood, warned me: “You’ve lived a simple life, untaught in proper society. To outsiders, I will introduce you as an adopted daughter of Blackwood Manor.” “As for that crude country husband of yours, and those… wild children, they must never show their faces. It would disgrace the family.” My brother, Lord Arthur, also stood protectively in front of the adopted daughter. “I have only one sister, Lydia.” “Don’t even think about trying to win favor from her.” I looked at them, a flicker of amusement in my eyes. “Crude country husband?” Were they referring to my husband, Chancellor Marcus Ashworth, a man second only to the King himself? And “wild children”? Were they speaking of my daughter, Queen Amara? Or my eldest son, General Kael Ashworth, Hero of the Realm? Perhaps my youngest, the newly crowned King’s Scholar, Elias Ashworth? 1 The day the Blackwood Manor steward brought me back, I finally met my biological father, Duke Alistair Blackwood. He sat at the head of the table, a teacup in hand, his gaze sweeping over me with a critical, almost disdainful air. It was as if he were examining a dusty antique, dug up from some forgotten corner. “Rosalind, you’ve been away for forty years. You must have suffered.” He took a sip of his tea, his tone flat, devoid of any hint of emotion at our long-awaited reunion. “Your mother has gone to the abbey for prayers. She’ll see you later.” I remained silent. He didn’t seem to notice or care, continuing as if I weren’t even there. “Lydia has grown up in this manor. She is now Lady Ashworth, refined and accomplished, the very face of our family. Your return has naturally caused her some anxiety.” He paused, then went on. “For the peace of this house, and for the harmony between you and your sister, she will remain known as the true daughter of Blackwood Manor.” He took another sip. “You, on the other hand, will be registered as an adopted daughter under your mother’s name. It will be enough to acknowledge our connection as father and daughter.” I watched him calmly. At my age, I understood the unspoken words, the dismissal beneath his polite veneer. He was ashamed of me, warning me away, and cementing Lydia’s position. My mother, whom I had yet to meet, had even conveniently arranged to be absent on the day of my return. Clearly, she wasn’t eager to see me either. I shifted my gaze, a faint smile playing on my lips, and nodded. “Alright.” Alistair seemed taken aback by my easy agreement. All the carefully prepared arguments he had ready were caught in his throat. Lord Arthur, my brother, standing beside him, couldn’t contain himself. He took a hasty step forward, pointing an accusing finger at me. “Don’t think your quick agreement means you have good intentions!” he snarled. “I’m warning you, my sister Lydia is a kind and gentle soul. She has prayed and sacrificed countless times over the years, all to find you. You are back now. Do not dare to bully her!” I looked at this blood relation, his eyes brimming with fierce loyalty for his “sister,” while mine were filled with suspicion and hostility. “Oh,” I replied. That single, quiet “oh” seemed to ignite their anger further. Alistair slammed his teacup onto the table with a dull thud, his eyes turning cold. “There is one more thing you must agree to.” He leaned forward, his voice dropping. “That husband of yours… that crude country bumpkin, and those… wild children. You are not to bring them anywhere near this manor.” “Blackwood Manor is a noble family. We will not be disgraced by such common folk.” 2 As he spoke, the disgust in his eyes was almost palpable. I finally met his gaze, my own calm and steady, and spoke slowly. “The Duke is right.” “A country husband is certainly crude, and wild children are rambunctious. They would indeed be out of place here. My apologies for the oversight.” I saw a flicker of contempt in Alistair’s eyes. Lord Arthur, beside him, made no effort to hide his scorn, a mocking smile twisting his lips. In their minds, my ready compliance was undeniable proof: a country bumpkin, desperate to cling to power and wealth, willing to abandon everything for a taste of luxury. They were pleased with my “discretion.” Alistair waved a dismissive hand, as if shooing away a troublesome servant. “Very well. You may go now. The steward will show you to a quiet courtyard. Your mother will come to see you later.” I turned, without a single backward glance. As I stepped out of the study, I immediately bumped into the woman who had lived my life for forty years, Lydia Blackwood. She was resplendent in fine silks and glimmering jewels. She rushed forward, grasping my hands, her eyes wide and red-rimmed with feigned concern. “Sister, please don’t be angry with Father and Arthur. They only wish to protect the family’s reputation. You’ve just returned from the countryside, and there are many customs to learn. I will help you.” She played the part of a loving sister, as if my supposed humiliation pained her more than it did me. I gently withdrew my hands and said nothing. Undeterred, she softly added, “Oh, and Sister, in a few days, it will be Father’s sixtieth birthday. Many distinguished guests from the capital will attend, so we must ensure everything is perfect.” She leaned closer, lowering her voice, but a triumphant glint in her eyes betrayed her. “Don’t worry, Sister, I’ll have a suitable dress prepared for you. Just… perhaps it would be best if you spoke little that day. Just to avoid… embarrassing the family.” I met her gaze, noting the barely concealed smugness, and smiled. Lydia’s hypocrisy was so blatant, only the Blackwood family, blind with self-importance, could fail to see it. 3 When the steward led me to the most secluded courtyard in Blackwood Manor, I barely spared a glance for the overgrown weeds and cobwebs in the corners. It was quiet, and that suited me just fine, as I wouldn’t be staying long anyway. I had just settled down when Lydia arrived, accompanied by two maids. She carried a pile of her old, worn-out clothes and a few tarnished, inexpensive trinkets, presenting them with an air of solicitous kindness. “Sister, you’ve just returned from the countryside. I imagine you’re unaccustomed to the silks and satins of the manor. I’ve chosen these for you; the fabric is softer, so you can ease into them.” Her voice dripped with ill-concealed superiority. “These trinkets aren’t valuable, of course, but they’re perfectly presentable for common outings. Please, don’t feel ashamed to wear them.” She expected to see me overwhelmed with gratitude, or perhaps cringing with shame. Instead, I calmly picked up a garment, shook off the dust, and folded it neatly. “Thank you, Sister.” My indifferent reaction momentarily startled her. Then, any lingering trace of caution vanished, replaced by a knowing condescension. In her eyes, I was merely an unworldly countrywoman, easily swayed by scraps and grateful for any mercy. She smiled, satisfied, believing she had firmly established her dominance. “I’m glad you like them, Sister. I won’t disturb your rest any further.” Lydia had barely left when Lady Blackwood, my biological mother, arrived. She glanced around the dilapidated courtyard, then at me, her expression perfunctory. “You’ve suffered much during your time in the countryside.” Behind her stood two imposing matrons, their gazes assessing me as if I were a piece of merchandise to be valued—cold and detached. “In three days, it will be the Dowager Duchess’s eightieth birthday. Guests from all the prominent families in the capital will be here.” My mother’s voice held no warmth whatsoever. “Your father has decided to introduce you as an adopted daughter at the banquet. This is a great fortune for you. You must learn to appreciate it.” I nodded, again saying nothing. She seemed pleased by my “obedience” and nodded to one of the matrons behind her. The woman immediately stepped forward and tossed a wrapped bundle onto the table. “This is for you. Wear this to the banquet.” She spoke with a condescending air of command, not a suggestion. The bundle contained a dress. It was an old-fashioned, dull rust-red, at least a decade out of style. The fabric was coarse, the kind even the lowest servants in the manor might disdain. “As a daughter of Blackwood Manor, even an adopted one, your every word and action reflects on our family’s reputation,” she continued, her voice sharp. “And that wretched thing on your wrist? Take it off before the banquet. It’s not fit for display.” She cast a disgusted glance at my jade bangle. “There will be many eyes and ears that day. You would do well to be modest, speak little, and avoid making a fool of yourself and embarrassing the entire manor.” With that, she turned and left, as if another moment in my presence would soil her shoes. I looked at the bangle on my wrist. It was a flawless emerald-green jade, exquisitely crafted and shimmering with life. Blackwood Manor, in their arrogance, assumed it was a cheap trinket from the countryside. They had no idea that this single bangle could buy their entire estate ten times over. I casually tossed the offensive dress back onto the table, a private, knowing smile playing on my lips. The Dowager Duchess’s birthday banquet? It was high time my three children came to liven things up. 4 Blackwood Manor was a whirlwind of activity, frantically preparing for the Dowager Duchess’s birthday banquet. My courtyard, the Sunset Garden, remained an oasis of calm; no one remembered there was anyone living there. I reveled in the peace, then sought out a young, unfamiliar stable boy who had helped carry my luggage. I slipped him a heavy silver coin. His eyes widened, and he stammered, asking what my command was. “Deliver a letter for me.” Back in my room, I unfolded a rough piece of parchment on the dusty table and picked up a brush. I wrote only four words: “All well, do not worry.” No signature, no return address. I folded the letter, slipped it into the plainest envelope I could find, and handed it to the stable boy. I simply told him to take it to “The Lucky Coin” general store in the South Quarter and give it to the shopkeeper. The stable boy, clutching the silver and the letter, departed whistling happily. With that done, I had nothing left to do. I pulled a chair into the courtyard and watched the tenacious wild grass growing in the cracks of the wall, unattended but thriving. I found it quite interesting. Occasionally, Lydia would “kindly” pass by my courtyard gate, casting a pitying, triumphant glance my way before shaking her head and sighing as she walked off. She likely imagined I was mesmerized by the manor’s wealth, yet tormented by my inability to fit in, left to languish in this dilapidated garden, consumed by self-pity. In her eyes, I was a pathetic, tragic figure. But she didn’t understand. I wasn’t pitying myself. I was simply waiting. The letter was sent. The people I was waiting for would arrive soon. That night, I dreamt. I was back in our little cottage in the village. My husband sat by the lamp, reading. My eldest daughter massaged my shoulders. My eldest son polished his long rifle in the yard. Even my youngest, usually so restless, helped me sort medicinal herbs. A family, content and together. I jolted awake, the moonlight cold through the window. A sudden wave of longing washed over me. I missed them. I wondered if they had received my letter. 5 Soon, the day of the banquet arrived. I was seated in the most inconspicuous corner, at a table with only a dish of stale peanuts and a pot of lukewarm tea. Lydia, shimmering in an extravagant cloud-brocade gown, flitted through the crowd, basking in admiration and flattery. Her laughter was light and melodious, her every glance perfectly calibrated for grace and nobility. After several rounds of wine, Duke Alistair Blackwood rose, cup in hand, his face flushed with good cheer. He cleared his throat, and the hall fell silent. He began with polite platitudes, thanking everyone for attending. Then, his gaze casually drifted to my corner. “There is one more matter I wish to announce today,” he declared, his voice booming, carrying an air of charitable condescension. “This is Rosalind, an… adopted daughter of Blackwood Manor.” The word “adopted” caused a ripple of murmuring throughout the hall. I heard the noblewomen at the next table whispering. “An adopted daughter, you say? I knew it! The true daughter of Blackwood Manor wouldn’t dress like a common countrywoman!” “Shh, lower your voice. She’s still recognized by the Duke. We must show some respect to the family.” Lydia stood beside Lady Blackwood, a barely perceptible smirk playing on her lips, her eyes filled with silent mockery directed at me. I calmly took a sip of my bitter, cleansing tea. Alistair seemed displeased by my composure. He frowned, then dismissed me from his thoughts, turning to introduce Lydia with words brimming with pride and affection. Soon, it was time for the guests to present their gifts to the Dowager Duchess. Lydia, as the Blackwood family’s most cherished jewel, was naturally the first. She held a delicate silk box, her steps graceful, poised to accept the admiration of the crowd… Just then, a clear, ringing voice announced: “Her Imperial Majesty, Queen Amara, arrives!” Everyone gasped. In an instant, led by Duke Alistair, the entire assembly of nobles and dignitaries dropped to their knees, their voices echoing, “Hail, Your Majesty the Queen! Long live the Queen!” I did not kneel. Firstly, the small table in front of me offered no room. Secondly, I saw no reason to. In the deathly silence that followed, Queen Amara, radiant in her royal regalia, entered, surrounded by palace guards. Her gaze was fixed forward. She did not look at Duke Alistair or Lydia, who knelt closest to the entrance. Instead, she walked directly through the sea of bowed heads, straight to my humble corner. She stopped three paces before me. Then, to the disbelief of every person in the hall, she performed a deep, formal curtsy, a gesture of profound respect. “Your daughter greets you, Mother.” 6 The hall was utterly, completely silent. Alistair’s face, flushed with pride moments before, turned bone-white. His lips trembled, unable to form a single word. Beside him, Lydia’s face was ashen, her eyes wide with absolute disbelief. Queen Amara paid them no mind. She stepped forward, affectionately taking my hand. She leaned in, her voice a low murmur meant only for my ears. “Mother, you have been wronged.” Throughout it all, she never once glanced at Duke Alistair or Lydia, who were still kneeling on the floor. I patted her hand, a silent assurance that I was fine. Only then did she turn to the assembly, her voice cool and clear. “You may all rise.” As if granted a reprieve from death, everyone shakily rose to their feet. But no one dared to sit again, standing with bowed heads, too terrified to even breathe loudly. A chief palace attendant stepped forward, holding a large, golden-yellow silk cloth covering a magnificent rosewood tray. Queen Amara herself unveiled it. A collective gasp swept through the guests. On the tray, stood a coral tree, nearly three feet tall, a vibrant, luminous blood-red. Dangling from its branches were twelve East Sea pearls, each the size of a pigeon’s egg. Its value alone could likely purchase half of Blackwood Manor. Everyone assumed it was a birthday gift for the Dowager Duchess. Alistair took a half-step forward, about to voice his gratitude. But Queen Amara didn’t spare him a glance. She personally took the coral tree and presented it to me. “Mother,” she said, her smile as gentle and respectful as it was when we were alone in our home. “This is a birthday gift from His Majesty and myself, for you. I know you dislike extravagance, but this symbolizes long life and enduring fortune. I pray you will not scorn it.” Another wave of stunned silence. A birthday gift… for me? If so, what was this lavish banquet the Blackwood family had so grandly organized for the Dowager Duchess? But an even more crushing blow was yet to come. Queen Amara turned slightly, addressing the direction where the Dowager Duchess sat, her voice clear and resonant. “And, in passing, a birthday blessing for my grandmother.”

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The lab exploded. My wife spent the night giving blood to one of her male students. And I filed for divorce. Everyone who knew us knew that my wife, Dr. Elena Hayes, loved me more than life itself. The director of the Institute and her colleagues all came to talk me down. “Steve, it was just a blood donation. She was saving a life. That’s a good thing. You’re going to throw your marriage away over that?” “You two have such a strong bond. A divorce? It’ll kill her!” And they were right. Elena loved me enough to die for me. When that lab exploded years ago, she was the one who shielded me with her own body. I walked away without a scratch. She suffered a severe concussion and almost didn’t wake up. But all I said, my voice flat and cold, was, “We either go to the courthouse, or we let the lawyers handle it.” 01 My words struck Elena like a physical blow. Her face, already pale from the blood donation, turned a ghostly white. Still, she forced herself to stand, reaching for my hand. “Steve, please, try to understand. Leo just got out of critical condition. I couldn’t just stand by and let him die.” She moved closer, and the sterile, antiseptic smell clinging to her made my stomach turn. I shoved her away. “Don’t touch me.” She stumbled backward, catching her heel and falling to the floor with a muffled cry of pain. I watched, unmoved, as she lay there, a sheen of sweat on her forehead from the pain. But she didn’t blame me. She just looked up at me, her voice deliberately soft. “Steve, I gave four hundred milliliters. I’m so dizzy… I need some soup or something to get my strength back, or I’m going to faint.” I recognized the look in her eyes. It was her way of surrendering. In the past, no matter how vicious our fights, the moment she changed the subject and softened her tone, I would always calm down. This time, it only fueled my rage. I towered over her, my voice like ice. “Either you sign the divorce papers now, or you can die right here in front of me.” With that, I stepped around her and headed for the bedroom. She lunged, grabbing the cuff of my pants, her voice a desperate plea. “A divorce? Just because I gave blood to a student? I swear to you, Steve, there is nothing going on between us.” Her eyes were wide with confusion, as if she genuinely couldn’t comprehend what she had done wrong. “Aside from our work at the Institute, we’ve never even spoken a word in private.” I tried to pull away, but her grip was like iron. Just then, the doorbell rang. I took a deep breath, trying to shove down the frustration, and went to open it. The Institute’s director and two of Elena’s colleagues stood on the doorstep, holding a fruit basket and a certificate of commendation. They were here to celebrate her good deed. “Is Dr. Hayes in? We just wanted to stop by and see how she’s doing.” Her assistant smiled, holding out the certificate, but his gaze drifted past me and landed on the figure on the floor. His expression changed in an instant. “Dr. Hayes! Why are you on the floor?” He rushed past me to help her, carefully taking her arm. Seeing her disheveled state, he turned on me, his voice sharp with anger. “Mr. Hayes, what is wrong with you? Dr. Hayes is weak from giving blood. Why didn’t you help her up?” I let out a cold laugh, leaning against the doorframe. “Help her? Why would I help a cheating woman?” The assistant’s face flushed with rage. “How dare you!” he sputtered. “Leo was injured conducting an experiment for the team! He’s still in a coma! Dr. Hayes was the only one with his rare blood type. Was she supposed to just let a student die? The entire Institute can vouch for them—their relationship is purely professional!” The director frowned, his disapproval of me obvious. “Mr. Hayes, couples should talk through their problems, not throw around baseless accusations. Dr. Hayes’s actions are a model for the entire Institute. This kind of behavior is… unseemly.” They were all protecting her. I was shaking with a rage so profound it felt like it would tear me apart. “I don’t give a damn about what’s ‘unseemly’! I want a divorce!” I yelled. “And if she won’t sign, I’ll go to the Institute every single day and make a scene until she can’t stand it anymore!” The director and his colleagues exchanged uneasy glances, whispering among themselves. “Do you think the explosion all those years ago… did something to his mind? He’s become so unhinged, like a madman…” My body went rigid. The memories I had fought so hard to bury came rushing back. The blinding flash, the searing heat, and Elena, holding me, shielding me. Elena’s voice, laced with concern, cut through the haze. “Steve, it’s over. Don’t think about it. I’ll always protect you.” “Shut up!” I snapped. I strode over to her and, ignoring her shocked gasp, ripped the wedding ring from her finger. The director could no longer contain himself. He grabbed my arm, pulling me back. “Steve Hayes, you’ve gone too far! Dr. Hayes saved your life! Not only are you ungrateful, but you’re repaying her kindness with this cruelty? Take our advice. Drop this talk of divorce. Now.” 02 Seeing that my expression remained a cold mask, the director’s patience finally wore thin. “Mr. Hayes,” he said, his tone scolding, “you have no evidence. What right do you have to suspect an affair?” The others chimed in, their voices a chorus of condemnation. But then, Elena raised a hand, cutting them off. “That’s enough. This is my family’s business. It’s not your place to interfere.” They all stared, stunned. They couldn’t believe she was still defending me. Her assistant stomped his foot in frustration. “Dr. Hayes, what are you doing? He’s the one being unreasonable! We’re on your side!” “I said, leave.” Elena’s gaze swept over them, her voice now hard and unyielding. “He is my husband. No one else gets a say.” There was nothing more they could do. Fuming, they left. Elena let out a sigh of relief and turned to me, her voice soft again. “Steve, I know I was wrong. I shouldn’t have given blood to Leo without talking to you first. I promise, I’ll never speak to him again. As long as you don’t divorce me, you can punish me however you want. Hit me, scream at me, I’ll take it.” I turned away, deliberately avoiding her eyes. “Do you remember my first year at the lab? Leo spilled diluted acid on my hand during an experiment. You were so worried. You said you’d never let him near me again.” I paused. “Now you’re saving his life. Tell me, shouldn’t I want a divorce?” The color drained from her face. Her eyes darted around the room as she stammered, “I… I remember now. But it was an emergency, I forgot. I promise, Steve, I will keep my distance from him.” Just then, my phone rang. “Hello? I’ll be right down.” Downstairs, my friend was waiting in his car. He handed me a package from the passenger seat. I took it, and tears immediately welled in my eyes. A few minutes later, after I’d wiped my face, I saw the director’s car pull back up. The door flew open, and the assistant grabbed my arm, his voice frantic. “Mr. Hayes, come with us! Quickly! Dr. Hayes collapsed from blood loss!” When I didn’t move, his panic turned to anger. “You left the door open when you left! A neighbor saw her on the floor and called an ambulance! She’s in the emergency room right now! You have to go see her!” The director stepped forward, his tone pleading. “Steve, please. She just gave blood. Her body is weak. This could be serious.” A cold smile touched my lips. “If I go to the hospital, the only thing I’ll be talking about is the divorce. Aren’t you afraid I’ll just push her over the edge?” The director was speechless with rage, pointing a trembling finger at me. He gave the assistant a look, and together, they practically dragged me into the car. We had just reached her hospital room when a nurse came rushing out. “Who is Steve Hayes? The patient in the next room, Mr. White, is awake and is demanding to see an Steve Hayes.” The assistant pointed at me, and the nurse grabbed my arm, pulling me into the room. Leo White sat up in bed, his face pale, an IV line in his arm. The moment he saw me, his expression grew urgent. 03 “Steve,” Leo said, his voice earnest and desperate. “I woke up and my classmates told me what happened. That you and Dr. Hayes are fighting because of me.” He looked me straight in the eye. “I swear on my life, there is nothing between me and Dr. Hayes but a professional, student-teacher relationship. I have never had a single improper thought about her!” He glanced down at the burn scars on his arms and gave a bitter smile. “But you don’t have to worry anymore, Steve. My parents heard about my accident. They don’t want me in research anymore. They’re flying in from overseas the day after tomorrow to take me abroad to study something else.” I opened my mouth, but swallowed the words that were about to come out. The director and the assistant, who had followed me in, looked immensely relieved. They had expected a shouting match and had come to intervene. They never imagined it would be resolved so peacefully. The director shot me a disapproving look. “Well, Mr. Hayes. You got what you wanted. Can we assume this nonsense is over now?” The assistant added quickly, “That was all you were worried about, right? It’s settled. So you can stop this talk about divorce.” Just as he finished speaking, Elena, ignoring a nurse’s protests, burst into the room. Her face lit up when she saw me. “Steve! I heard you came to see me.” Seeing the joy on her face, I shattered her hope without a second thought. “See you?” I scoffed. “I came to get my divorce.” Her smile froze, and her face went chalk-white. The assistant, his own face turning purple with rage, steadied her and yelled at me, “I can’t take this anymore! How far are you going to push this?!” The director stood by, watching Elena, waiting for her to finally snap. After all this, even he, a stranger, was at his limit. Surely she would be furious. But her reaction shocked everyone. Elena pushed the assistant away and staggered forward, her voice raw. “Steve, as long as you don’t divorce me, I’ll do anything you ask!” The room fell silent. Ignoring the stares, she tried to find common ground, her voice gentle. “Steve, what’s that you’re holding?” I laughed, a harsh, broken sound. Then I turned and ran. I ran for the stairwell, for the roof. Standing on the edge of the twenty-story building, I looked down at Elena as she followed, her face a mask of terror. My heart hardened. I screamed, my voice tearing from my throat, “Elena, if you don’t agree to this divorce, I’ll jump from here right now!” 04 The director gave me a look of utter disgust and turned to his assistant. “Call the police! Tell them we have a lunatic threatening to jump. And call his family. Get them here. Now.” He sighed, looking at Elena, who was on her knees, begging me to come down. “What has happened to them? It’s like they’re two different people.” Minutes later, the police, my parents, and my mother-in-law arrived. The moment my mother saw me on the ledge, her legs gave out, and she collapsed. “Steve! Get down from there! Whatever it is, you can tell me! Don’t do something you’ll regret!” she sobbed. “Is it something with Elena? We can fix it!” My mother-in-law shoved Elena forward, her voice trembling with panic. “You must have done something to hurt him! Apologize! Don’t let him do this!” I stared at their frantic faces, and two weeks of pent-up misery threatened to overflow. I opened my mouth to speak. But the assistant cut in, his voice cold. “Ma’am, I know it’s not my place, but I can’t stand by and watch him torture Dr. Hayes like this.” He recounted the events of the past few days, word for word, without exaggeration. My parents’ faces darkened. My mother-in-law’s expression hardened into a furious mask. “Steve! How far are you going to take this?!” she yelled at me. “There is nothing going on between Elena and that student! I would stake my life on it!” I clenched my fists. “I’ll take it all the way to a divorce!” My mother, helped to her feet, screamed at me, her voice shaking. “You get down here right now! You’ve had it too good for too long! How has Elena ever wronged you? She saved your life, you ungrateful brat! You would be dead if not for her!” Elena, pale and tearful, cried out, “Steve, if you’re worried about me working with other men, I’ll quit my job tomorrow! I’ll stay home with you every day. I’ll never speak to another man again!” She was already reaching for her phone to type her resignation. Suddenly, my mother-in-law lunged through the crowd like a madwoman, rushing towards me. Before I could react, she slapped me hard across the face. I teetered on the edge, almost falling. She pointed a finger in my face, her voice a sharp shriek. “My daughter worked her entire life to get to where she is! Who are you to destroy her career?! She saved your life, and this is how you repay her? You’re a monster!” I wiped a smear of blood from my lip and looked at my mother-in-law, shielding Elena behind her. And I started to laugh. “Saved me?” I turned and screamed at Elena, a raw, hysterical sound. “Why didn’t you die in that explosion! You liar!” My mother rushed forward to grab me, but I threw her off. “Steve Hayes!” she shrieked, trembling with fury. “Don’t push your luck! Get down here before this gets completely out of hand!” I saw the police officers moving closer and suddenly felt a strange calm wash over me. “But I want it to get out of hand.” My mother-in-law clutched her chest and stumbled towards the police, sobbing. “Officer! He’s insane! He’s mentally ill! Take him to a psychiatric hospital! Don’t let him hurt my daughter anymore!” An officer, having been briefed on the situation, gently supported her, looking at me with confusion. “Mr. Hayes, if you want a divorce, we can help mediate. But you can’t use your own life as a bargaining chip. Please, come down. We’re here to help.” At the officer’s words, my mother-in-law’s voice rose to a scream. “I don’t agree to a divorce! A divorce would be an admission that my daughter did have an affair! He needs to make a public apology and clear my daughter’s name!” The assistant added with a sneer, “Exactly. He can’t just cause all this chaos and then walk away with a divorce. It’s not that simple.” Seeing my mother-in-law’s unyielding stance, I calmly held out the package I’d been clutching. She took it hesitantly. She glanced at it for only a second, and the color drained from her face. Her lips trembled. “Fine,” she choked out. “This divorce is happening. Now!”

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Working late again, I was scrolling through my phone at the subway station when I saw my sister’s post. “Who cares if I can’t find a job? I’m young! This is the time to be wild!” The post included a screenshot of a thirty-thousand-dollar transfer from our parents, accompanied by a text message from them. “Sweetheart, you’ll have the rest of your life to work. Use this time, while you’re young, to go see the world.” I stared at the screen for a long time. A drowning sensation tightened in my chest, stealing my breath. That’s when I walked out of the subway station and sent a text to Evelyn Reed. “I’m in. I’ll take the overseas post.” 1 Right as I saw Mia’s post, my work friend—who had just quit—was saying her goodbyes. “Zoey, my parents said this soul-crushing job was going to give me a heart attack, so they told me to just come home and be a ‘full-time daughter.’” She had the same blissful smile as my sister, Mia, in her post. “But you’re from around here, Zoey. Why are you pushing yourself so hard? You should really take a break!” I stared blankly at Mia’s post, unable to form a response to my friend’s question. When I graduated from college, my field was already in a downturn. I was just like Mia is now—pounding the pavement every day, but coming up empty. Back then, a heavy cloud of disappointment hung over our house. My father would chain-smoke, the look in his eyes screaming that I was a failure. My mother would sneak into my room at night, crying, telling me they had no money, that they were in debt, that they couldn’t support me. She suggested I go work at the local factory; three thousand a month was better than nothing. I believed their tears. I thought I had no other choice, no safety net. So for years, even when the overtime pushed me to the brink of a breakdown, I gritted my teeth and endured. But it turned out they could be a safety net. They just weren’t one for me. When their other daughter faced the exact same situation, they didn’t hesitate to hand her thirty thousand dollars to go on vacation. The announcement for the last train echoed through the nearly empty station. I didn’t get on it. I followed the handful of other people up the stairs and out into the night. The irony wasn’t lost on me when, just as I unlocked a city bike, a text from Mia came through. “Hey sis, can you grab me a bowl of wonton soup from Mrs. Gable’s on your way home?” I took a deep breath and typed back, my face a stony mask. “You have thirty thousand dollars and you’re asking me, the one scraping by, to buy you soup?” Silence from her end. A bitter smile touched my lips, but my eyes burned with unshed tears. Growing up, my parents always told me that Mia was my other half, my closest companion in the world. They taught me to protect her, to love her. But whenever Mia was upset, I was the one who got cut, slowly and quietly. Just like now. My mother’s number flashed on my screen. Her calls always began with a deep, dramatic sigh, followed by the pretense of a mother trying to be fair. “Zoey, did you get angry with your sister?” she began. “She didn’t even finish her fruit before she ran to her room and locked the door.” A pause. “How about this, you pick up two bowls of soup on your way back, and I’ll pay you for them?” I fought it, I really did, but the words spilled out. “Mom, do you really think this is about a bowl of soup? Is there any point in playing dumb?” The line was quiet for only a second before my father’s angry voice boomed through the phone. “Zoey, what the hell is wrong with you? We ask you to bring home some soup and you throw a fit and make everyone miserable!” He took a breath, his voice dripping with manufactured righteousness. “It was your mother who remembered how you used to beg for Mrs. Gable’s wontons when you were little! Your sister was trying to do something nice for you, to surprise you!” I leaned against the cold metal of the bike, the tears finally breaking free, my voice catching in a sob. “Yes, I wanted them when I was a kid. But do you remember what happened after I begged for them?” 2 Mrs. Gable’s wonton stand had been a fixture on our block for decades. A big bowl, twenty-five wontons, cost seven dollars back then. Every evening, the rich, savory aroma would drift up to our apartment. I would grip the balcony railing, inhaling deeply, my mouth watering. One day, I tentatively asked my mother if I could have a bowl if I got first place on my final exams. She smiled and agreed. But when I presented them with my perfect report card, my father took off his belt and beat me without a word. He yelled that I was selfish and greedy. That the family was struggling, and here I was, demanding fancy food. That I was destined to be a beggar. I cried for my mother, but she just gathered my little sister in her arms and disappeared into her bedroom. After that day, I hated wontons. Even when my mom made them at home, I’d lie and say I was on a diet, never touching a single one. And now, they were telling me it was my favorite food. Years of buried pain came pouring out. “Mia was the one who loved Mrs. Gable’s!” I sobbed into the phone. “If she even hinted she wanted some, you’d run out and get it for her in the middle of the night! What about me?” “You feel sorry for her because she’ll have to work for the rest of her life, so you give her a fortune to go have fun. What about me?” “I’m tired, too! I take the last train home every single night! I want to quit and rest for a while, too! But what did you tell me? You said you couldn’t afford to support me, that I had to make it on my own!” “It’s always Mia, Mia, Mia! She’s your precious baby who can’t suffer a single hardship! So what am I? The one who’s supposed to just take it?!” I went on and on, losing control, only realizing after a long moment that the other end of the line was completely silent. Stunned, I slowly lowered the phone. The screen was black. They’d hung up on me long ago. All my anguish, scattered into the night wind, as meaningless as all the tears I’d shed that no one had ever seen. I wiped my eyes and unlocked my phone, finally sending the text I’d been hesitating over for weeks. My boss’s reply was almost immediate: “Zoey, you will not regret this decision.” That night, I checked into the best hotel in the city and paid for a month upfront. It was expensive. I’d never spent money on myself like that before. But unlike the guilt and anxiety that usually came with any purchase, this time I signed the bill with a profound sense of calm. As expected, my phone remained silent all night. Not a single person from my family cared whether I came home or not. At six the next morning, I went back to the apartment to pack. When I opened the door, the living room was a mess. On the table were several familiar take-out containers. The leftover wonton soup had turned cloudy and sour overnight. I could perfectly picture my parents going downstairs to buy it, could see them presenting it to Mia with cheerful smiles, coddling her, making her happy. A bitter sneer twisted my lips. I went straight to my room and packed. As I was dragging my suitcase out, Mia emerged from her room, yawning. I instinctively tried to hide the suitcase behind me, but she just grunted sleepily in my direction and shuffled into the living room. A few seconds later, her voice, shrill with indignation, pierced the quiet. “Zoey! Are you serious? You didn’t even make breakfast?!” “Just because I asked for a bowl of soup? Are you really going to be this petty?” I stood in my doorway, watching her face flush with anger, and said nothing. Slowly, her gaze started to shift, and her fingers began to fidget with the hem of her nightgown. It was her tell. She knew she was in the wrong. This wasn’t the first time my parents had shown their favoritism. As the beneficiary, Mia wasn’t stupid. In the beginning, when I showed my hurt, she would nervously use her saved-up allowance to buy me little gifts. But over time, she got used to it. She started to believe that as the older sister, it was my natural duty to give way to her. Just like now. She tilted her chin up, her gaze defiant. “The money Mom and Dad gave me is only what you make in a year. Why are you making such a big deal out of it?” Her voice started to wobble, her eyes turning red with self-pity. “I’m your sister! You’re really going to hold this little thing against me? Are you even my sister anymore?!” I leaned against the doorframe, watching her performance calmly. “Mia, just because I’m the older sister, does that mean I’m born to sacrifice for you?” She looked at me, her eyes shimmering with tears, ready to overflow. But I was done. I turned to leave with my suitcase. Just then, the master bedroom door opened, and heavy footsteps approached. “What are you two yelling about so early in the morning?” 3 As if on cue, Mia burst into tears, the floodgates opening. “Dad! Zoey is being so mean! She was horrible to me last night, and she’s still at it this morning!” “So you gave me some money for a trip! Why is she treating me like this?!” She sobbed dramatically, as if she were the most wronged person in the world. I frowned, about to speak. The next second, a heavy slap cracked across my face. “Zoey! Are you done yet? I put up with your nonsense all last night!” my father roared. “I asked you to bring home a bowl of soup, and you act like we asked you to move a mountain!” “It’s my money! I’ll give it to whoever I damn well please! Why do you have to make such a scene?” My head snapped to the side, my cheek burning. For a moment, I was too stunned to react. My mother rushed over and pulled at his arm, her voice carrying that same tired, false neutrality. “What are you doing, hitting her?!” Then she turned to me. “And you, Zoey. We’re family. Why do you have to count every little thing?” Mia’s sobs subsided. She stood to the side, watching me with a smug little pout. “Yeah,” she mumbled. I ran my tongue over my numb cheek, looking at the united front of three against one. They all stared at me with the same mix of disappointment and anger, as if I had committed some unforgivable crime. Was it really so wrong to call out their blatant favoritism? In a daze, I remembered this had all happened before. That time, it was about college allowances. They gave me a thousand a month, and even then, I had to humiliate myself by begging for it, only to be called a spendthrift. Eventually, I got a part-time job and never asked again. They were happy to let it slide, never once asking if I needed money. I always thought it was because we were poor. Until Mia went to college and let it slip that her allowance was three thousand a month. That night was another epic battle. Mia cried. I cried. But I’d forgotten: my sister’s tears were precious. They earned her hugs and comfort and anything she wanted. My tears only earned me insults and slaps, followed by my mother’s teary-eyed question of when I was finally going to grow up. Just like today, my father had slapped me and asked if I wouldn’t be satisfied until I had torn the family apart. His words, his disappointed glare, had crushed me into silence. I had swallowed that injustice, choked it down with my tears. But the wound never closed. It was always there, raw and open. This thirty thousand dollars had ripped it wide open again, and the pain was making me lose my mind. When I came back to myself, the hallway was empty. They had taken a sniffling Mia out, comforting her. Once again, I was left standing alone, a ridiculous, pathetic figure. I took one last, stiff look at the room I had lived in for twenty-eight years and closed the door behind me. I didn’t look back. Over two weeks later, two transfers hit my bank account.

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The day my CEO boss, George Cole, finally got a girlfriend, I was somehow cast as the villain in their love story. His new flame, a girl in a little white dress with a matching flower tucked in her hair, dropped to her knees before me, sobbing. “You must be Mr. Cole’s secretary,” she wept. “Please, I’m begging you, give him back to me. We’re the ones who are truly in love.” I nearly jumped out of my skin. It’s true, I was George Cole’s secretary. But I was also a bona fide genius, a national award winner who held the company’s core tech in the palm of her hand. And most importantly, as God is my witness, there was absolutely nothing going on between George and me. 01 The moment the girl, Lily Evans, hit the floor, every head in the open-plan office snapped in our direction. The silence was so thick, the secondhand embarrassment so profound, you could have cut it with a knife. But Lily seemed oblivious, practically glued to the carpet as she wailed at me. “Ma’am, George and I are soulmates. If you keep clinging to him, it won’t end well for you!” I stood frozen, feeling like a lightning bolt had just struck me square on the head. Soulmates? Clinging? Not ending well? Nowhere in my employment contract for Cole Corporation did it say I’d have to moonlight as the evil rival in some bargain-bin romance drama. George’s brow furrowed as he reached down to pull her up. “Lily, what on earth are you talking about? Sophia and I have a purely professional relationship!” Lily promptly collapsed into his arms, her face a mask of beautifully tragic tears. “Don’t lie to me, George, I know everything! I know that Sophia is the heiress to the Reed fortune.” “She gave up the life of a socialite to be your secretary. If it’s not for love, what other reason could there be?” My jaw just about hit the floor. What in the world was she talking about? Sure, the wealthiest family in the state was named Reed, but what did that have to do with me, a small-town girl who’d fought her way out of obscurity with nothing but scholarships and a brain that ran on pure grit? My family tree, for three generations back, was nothing but honest, blue-collar workers. The only reason I was standing in this high-rise office was because I’d studied myself half to death to become the top scholar in my state, which earned me a generous scholarship from George’s parents. After fast-tracking my Ph.D. and bringing a multi-million-dollar national grant project with me, I was working for George for a fraction of my market value, simply to pay back their kindness. And somehow, in her mind, that twisted into a story about a secret heiress slumming it for love? With an imagination like that, she was wasting her talent. She should be writing scripts for melodramatic web series. George looked just as baffled, trying to find some logic in her fantasy. “Where are you hearing this nonsense? Sophia is just—” Lily clapped her hands over her ears, going into full “la-la-la-I-can’t-hear-you” mode. “Stop it, George! Don’t say another word!” “Don’t keep reminding me of the gap between her status and mine! Don’t keep stabbing my heart with the cold, hard truth…” As the audience of eavesdropping employees grew, George’s handsome face began to flush with color. He gritted his teeth. “Then what do I have to do to make you believe that there is nothing between us?” Only then did Lily lift her tear-streaked face, clutching his sleeve. “George, are you blaming me? I’m not trying to pressure you.” “I know I’m not good enough for you, but I’m with you for you, not for your money! I love you, I really do…” she sobbed. At that, George seemed to deflate, all his arguments and energy draining away. He waved a weary hand at me. “Sophia, you can go back to your desk.” Granted a pardon, I immediately plastered on my professional smile. “Of course, Mr. Cole.” I turned and walked away with crisp, efficient steps. I’d only taken two when Lily’s trembling voice rose again behind me. “Mr. Cole… she called you Mr. Cole… George, I know what she’s doing. She’s reminding me that you’re the powerful CEO, and I’m just a Cinderella from the slums.” “Will you get tired of me one day? Will you leave me?” And then I heard George, yet again, call my name. “Sophia!” I turned back, resigned to my fate. “Yes?” He rubbed his temples. “From now on, in front of Lily, just call me by my first name.” I blinked. Are you serious? Seeing my confusion, George added, deadpan, “Every time you call me ‘Mr. Cole,’ I’m docking your pay $200.” My body reacted faster than my brain. I snapped to attention, my voice ringing out. “Yes, Ge… George! Roger that!” 02 The second I was out of the executive office, a few curious colleagues swarmed me, their eyes twinkling with gossip. “Sophie, what was that all about?” Mark, the head of the tech department, sidled up, a greasy grin on his face. “Well, well. Never took you for a secret heiress, Miss Reed, bravely chasing after your one true love…” I slapped him squarely on the back. “Heiress my foot! Get your team together for a meeting, now!” “If we blow the pitch in two weeks, your entire department can pack their bags and get out!” Mark’s neck vanished into his shoulders as he scurried off to round up his people. Over the next three days, I have no idea what kind of deep, soul-searching conversation George had with Lily, but she stopped staging her ‘please-leave-my-boyfriend’ melodramas in front of me. However! She started appearing in the office like an NPC spawning at a set location, making the rounds to offer her unique brand of encouragement. “You can do it, Kelly! You’re the best!” “Keep up the great work, David! I believe in you!” “Don’t forget to smile today, Sam! Life is beautiful!” She even brought her fishbowl to the office and placed it in the most prominent spot on the reception desk, enthusiastically introducing her pet to everyone who passed by. “This is my baby, Prudence.” “My phone is named Grace, my alarm clock is Hope, and my potted plant is Faith…” The entire office was on edge. Productivity didn’t increase, but the collective cringe was palpable. My days were now split between managing technical data, tracking project timelines, and fielding a flood of internal complaint emails about our new office mascot. It was seriously cutting into my actual work. I printed out every single email, bound them into a thick booklet, and slapped it down on George’s desk. He flipped through a few pages, his face a kaleidoscope of emotions. Finally, he let out a long sigh and massaged his forehead. “Notify finance. Starting this month, everyone in the executive office and the adjacent tech department gets their salary doubled.” With the money secured, my expression changed in a flash. I bowed slightly, my voice dripping with sycophantic praise. “Thank you, boss! You’re a genius, boss! Long live the boss!” Before the words had even faded, the office door flew open with a bang. Lily rushed in, crying, clutching a small pot. “George! My Faith is dead… I’m so sad…” I instantly wiped the grin off my face and backed out of the room, my expression a blank mask. Genius my ass. This raise was hazard pay, pure and simple. And we’d damn well earned it. A couple of days later, George’s parents returned from their round-the-world trip and decided on a whim to visit the company. Fearing another one of Lily’s episodes, George specifically assigned me to give his parents the tour. Just as I was explaining our latest technological breakthrough, Lily materialized out of a corner. When she saw the three of us standing together, her face went deathly white. Then, clutching her chest like a tragic heroine in a silent film, she crumpled to the ground. “George… you lied to me…” She stared at George, who had rushed to her side, and pointed a trembling finger at me. “Your parents already approve of Sophia… and you told me there was nothing between you two…” Mr. and Mrs. Cole had never seen a spectacle like this. They both stood there, utterly stunned. But Lily was completely lost in her own script. She staggered to her feet, a delicate white flower battered by a storm. “The great Reed family and the Cole dynasty, joining forces. It sounds so… perfect, doesn’t it?” “George, should I congratulate you on your upcoming wedding?” I couldn’t take it anymore. If this went on, she’d have George and me with three kids and a mortgage. I didn’t care if she ruined George’s reputation, but she wasn’t going to ruin mine. I strode forward, my face impassive, pulled my driver’s license from my purse, and practically slapped it against her cheek. “Miss Evans, look closely! My name is Sophia Reed. My father is Daniel Reed. My mother is Laura Reed!” “We have absolutely nothing to do with whatever billionaire Reed family you’ve cooked up in your head!” 03 I thought showing her my ID would finally bring this fantasy to an end. How naive I was. Lily’s mind operated on a level of logic unknown to mortal man. As she stared at my license, her expression shifted from shock to confusion, and then to a sudden, breathtaking moment of enlightenment. It was a whirlwind of emotion. Then she spun to face Mr. and Mrs. Cole, her voice thick with a sense of profound injustice. “We’re both ‘Cinderellas,’ so why is she acceptable and I’m not?” The bewilderment on the Coles’ faces was so intense it was almost a physical presence. George, looking like he was about to have an aneurysm, tried to pull her away. “Lily, stop this nonsense! Let’s go…” But she wrenched her arm free and charged toward us. “Mr. and Mrs. Cole, I know my background is humble, that I’m not worthy of George, but my love for him is real!” “Why can you accept Sophia, but not me? Is it because I’m not as pretty as her, or as capable?” Mrs. Cole, now genuinely annoyed by these bizarre accusations, frowned at her son. “George! What is going on? Explain yourself!” Lily immediately jumped in. “No! Mrs. Cole, it’s not George’s fault! It’s all my fault…” “Why did you dislike me the moment you saw me? Did Sophia say something bad about me to you?” She turned to me again, her tears making her look utterly pitiful. “Sophia, I know you love George too, but you can’t force love…” I opened my mouth, feeling the helpless rage of someone being slandered in broad daylight. Thankfully, George managed to physically drag Lily away before she could write another chapter of her fan fiction. I rubbed my temples and let out a sigh of relief. When I turned around, I was met with two pairs of alarmingly bright eyes. Mrs. Cole grabbed my hand. “Sophia, dear, is it true? Are you really in love with our George?” Mr. Cole stood beside her, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “Well, we’ve watched Sophia grow up. We know what a wonderful girl she is… It’s not out of the question.” My world went dark. It was all over. My reputation! My image as a dedicated, no-nonsense professional! Utterly destroyed by Lily Evans. It took every ounce of my persuasive ability to convince George’s parents that Lily was delusional, not that I was harboring a secret crush on their son. They left the office looking visibly disappointed. For the next few days, I buried myself in the tech department, working overtime to avoid seeing George. Lily, surprisingly, stayed quiet for a while. The day before the project pitch, there was a long-scheduled industry gala that I had to attend with George. As I expected, Lily was there. She wore her signature white dress, trailing timidly behind George. The gala was filled with industry heavyweights, and several of them immediately cornered me. “Ms. Reed, I hear things have been a bit… chaotic over at Cole Corp. Any interest in jumping ship to Sterling Industries?” “Sophia, our tech division has hit a wall. Would you do us the honor of consulting? Name your price!” Ever since I’d joined Cole Corp with my nationally-funded project, these executives had been relentlessly trying to poach me. They still hadn’t given up. I was trying to think of a polite way to refuse when the event manager rushed over, looking panicked. The pianist they’d booked had a sudden medical emergency and couldn’t make it. They couldn’t find a professional replacement on such short notice, and the atmosphere was becoming a little awkward. After years of following George to these high-end events, I’d picked up a thing or two. I could play a simple piece to fill the silence. I took a step forward and said to the manager, “If you don’t mind, I could…” Before I could finish, Lily shot forward, her voice ringing with a strange indignation. “I can’t play!” Every eye in the room swiveled to her. I was confused. “Miss Evans, I was offering to play, not you.” But Lily looked as if some righteous fire had been lit within her, her face flushing crimson. “Do you wealthy people have any idea what it’s like for people like me? I grew up in the middle of nowhere! I’ve never even seen a grand piano, let alone had the chance to learn!” “You’re all here, at this extravagant party, listening to piano music, while there are people in the world who can’t even afford to eat!” She grew more and more agitated, finally turning her fury on me, her eyes filled with condemnation. “Sophia! You came from nothing too! And now you’re helping these vultures, you’ve forgotten where you came from!” “I, Lily Evans, look down on you!” 04 Silence. A deep, bizarre silence fell over the entire ballroom. Everyone was staring at Lily as if she’d just beamed down from another planet. I stood there, feeling like I’d been struck by lightning, flash-fried, and my soul had left my body. Helping vultures? Forgotten where I came from? All because… I could play the piano? Lily clutched the hem of her dress, cast one last disappointed look around the room, then covered her face and ran out. George didn’t follow. Or rather, he couldn’t. He was too busy managing the fallout, apologizing to the room full of “vultures” Lily had just insulted. By the time the gala ended, George was too drunk to walk straight. Resigned to my duties as his secretary, I took him to the five-star hotel where he usually stayed. I had just gotten the room key from the front desk when Lily appeared at the entrance, a ghost haunting the lobby. Her eyes were red-rimmed. Before I could say a word, she fixed me with a look that said, I’ve seen through your evil plan, her voice trembling with defiance. “Sophia Reed, I know what you’re doing. You want me to misunderstand your relationship with George, to fight with him!” “But let me tell you, I won’t fall for your tricks! I trust George. He loves me!” I closed my eyes. For that, at least, I was grateful. Lily clenched her fists, as if steeling herself for a great battle. “But I also know why he can’t get rid of you! It’s because of that project you control, isn’t it?” “Just you wait! I’ll show George that I can help him too! That I’m more useful than you are!” Watching her storm off with that righteous fire in her eyes, a knot of dread formed in my stomach. The next day, George and I led our team into the long-awaited project bidding presentation. During the initial pitch, I dominated the room, showcasing the core technology we had developed. After a round of intense Q&A, winning the contract felt like a sure thing. But just as the lead representative was about to announce their decision, the conference room doors burst open with a bang. “Wait! I have something to say!” Lily stood panting in the doorway, clutching a stack of documents. Ignoring the staff trying to stop her, she frantically directed the people behind her. “Quick! Hand these out to everyone!” Copies of the documents were shoved into the hands of the judges and our main competitors. One was thrust at me. My blood ran cold. It was our core technology—detailed architectural diagrams, key algorithm parameters, and our final, confidential bid price. Lily stood at the podium, her voice clear and bright. “Everyone, we’ve laid all our cards on the table for you!” “Now you can feel the sincerity of the Cole Corporation, can’t you? Please, you have to partner with us!” The entire room was dead silent. I stood rooted to the spot, feeling the blood freeze in my veins. This project was my Ph.D. thesis. It was the culmination of countless sleepless nights, the product of two years of relentless work from my entire team at Cole Corp. And now this… this fool had just handed it all away in the most idiotic, most humiliating way possible! She hadn’t just destroyed a project; she had incinerated thousands of hours of our lives, our passion, our collective soul. A surge of pure, hot rage shot through me. All reason, all professionalism, shattered in that instant. I strode forward, and under the astonished gaze of everyone in the room, I raised my hand and brought it across Lily Evans’s face with a resounding CRACK. Lily staggered back, clutching her cheek, tears instantly welling in her eyes. “George! She hit me! But I was only trying to help you…” George said nothing, but his face was a mask of utter devastation. My chest heaved. I pointed a trembling finger at Lily, but my eyes were locked on George. “George Cole, as the head of this project, I am formally suing Lily Evans for the theft and intentional leakage of core corporate trade secrets.” “And from this day forward, this company isn’t big enough for the both of us. Either she goes, or I do.”

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I drove five hours with our daughter to surprise him. But the moment he saw us, there was no joy in his eyes. Only shock. He was cheating on me. I asked him later: “In that moment, were you worried about me after that long drive, or were you terrified your new girlfriend would see me and our daughter?” 1. Ross was having an affair. The second he saw our daughter Angela and me standing there, his expression wasn’t one of happy surprise, but of pure, unadulterated shock. In that instant, I knew. His colleagues shuffled past, their faces tight with embarrassment. They wanted to say hello but were terrified of giving something away, so they just offered strained smiles and hurried off. Ross finally snapped out of his trance. He stepped forward, took Angela from my arms, and wrapped an arm around my shoulder, forcing a tone of delight. “Stella! What are you guys doing here?” I didn’t answer, just let him guide me numbly toward his car. Angela was ecstatic to see her dad. She clung to his neck, pressing her cheek against his, chattering away about all the latest news from her preschool. Watching their two faces, practically mirror images of each other, I felt a sharp, twisting pain in my chest. To keep Angela from noticing anything was wrong, I had to turn away and pretend to be absorbed in the scenery outside the window. Father and daughter chatted happily the whole way. I remained silent. When Ross asked where I wanted to go for dinner, I didn’t reply. 2. I managed to hold it together until we got to Ross’s apartment. I set Angela up in front of the TV, then followed Ross into the bedroom. “Give me your phone.” “What’s wrong?” He smiled and reached out to hug me, but I pushed him away. I held his gaze until he finally gave in and handed it over. The password hadn’t changed. It was still our wedding anniversary. How ironic. I unlocked it, opened his messages, and let my intuition guide me. My eyes landed on a contact named “Amber.” She was a colleague of his. Their last exchange was from forty minutes ago. Amber: “I’m working late tonight. When you come pick me up, can you grab some takeout? I’m craving those dumplings from that place on South Street~” Ross’s reply: “You and your cravings~” I scrolled up. They texted every single day. On all those days he’d told me he was too busy to even eat, he had been sharing every little detail of his life with Amber. And they were colleagues. They worked in the same building. 3. Ross and I had been together for almost a decade—three and a half years dating, six years married. We had a beautiful, bright five-year-old daughter. Two years ago, he’d taken a promotion that required him to relocate. He promised that as soon as he was settled, he’d move Angela and me over to join him. I waited patiently, never complaining, no matter how exhausting it was to raise our child alone. But the chat logs told a different story. The night Angela and I were both sick with a fever, he’d claimed he was swamped with work. In reality, he was celebrating Amber’s birthday. The time I got into a car accident and broke my leg, and he said he couldn’t get away from the office for Angela’s parent-teacher conference, he was actually on a weekend trip with Amber. And on Valentine’s Day, he sent me a simple “Love you” text. To Amber, he sent a screenshot of a reservation for a romantic getaway, captioned, “Forever and always.” Forever and always with her? Then what was I? Before seeing those messages, I had never once suspected Ross would cheat. I believed his ambition was for our family, that his loyalty to our marriage was absolute. But the old saying was true. No woman ever makes it out of her husband’s phone alive. Every message between him and Amber was a knife, twisting deeper into my heart. The pain was a tidal wave, so powerful it threatened to drown me. I felt the air leave my lungs, my vision tunneling as the world went dark at the edges. Ross steadied me as I swayed, his voice thick with guilt. “Stella, I’m so sorry. But I swear, nothing physical ever happened between us.” “And by ‘physical,’ you mean… sex?” “We didn’t.” “So, in your mind, you’ve done nothing wrong?” 4. His answer didn’t matter anymore. I handed his phone back, walked out of the bedroom, and said to our daughter, “Angela, sweetie, we have to go home now.” Angela looked up, confused. “Mommy, why are we leaving so soon? You said we were staying with Daddy all weekend.” “Mommy has something urgent to take care of back home. We’ll come visit Daddy another time.” As I carried her out the door, she was still bewildered, but she could see the look on my face and knew not to ask any more questions. Ross ran after us, grabbing my arm. “You just got here. At least stay for the weekend.” “No.” He and Amber had plans to go camping this weekend. I wouldn’t want to get in their way. “Come home on Monday,” I said, my voice flat. “We have things to take care of.” I didn’t say the word “divorce” in front of Angela, but Ross understood. He tightened his grip. “You just drove five hours to get here. You can’t drive another five hours back. It’s too much for you.” Did he really care about that? In that first, shocking moment when he saw us, was he worried about my long drive, or was he terrified Amber would see us? As we stood there in a silent standoff, I heard the click of the apartment door opening. It was Amber. She had used her fingerprint to unlock the door. “Ross, I…” She trailed off when she saw me. 5. For a few seconds, my mind went completely blank. Then I remembered what Ross had just said. Nothing physical ever happened. A regular colleague has her fingerprint programmed into your door lock? As I shot Ross a look of pure scorn, an even bigger blow landed. Angela recognized her. “Hi, Amber!” our daughter chirped. Amber’s face flushed with awkwardness, but her eyes held a spark of defiance. She had told Ross she was working late, yet here she was. It was obvious she had come here for me. “You didn’t answer your phone,” she said to Ross, her voice trembling slightly. “I was worried something might have happened, so…” Ross didn’t offer an explanation. “You should go,” he said curtly. Amber hesitated, then said something truly astounding. “Well, since I’m already here, can’t I join you all for dinner? I’m sure your wife and Angela wouldn’t mind, right?” Ross’s face darkened, his eyes flashing with anger. I had no energy to watch their little performance. I pried his hand off my arm and walked out. 6. In the elevator, Angela wrapped her arms around my neck and asked quietly, “Mommy, do you not like Amber?” I swallowed the grief and pain rising in my throat and asked in the most normal voice I could manage, “Why, sweetie? Do you know her well?” Angela nodded. “One time Daddy was busy with work, so he asked Amber to watch me. She made me a sandwich.” “When was this?” “During my last school break.” “Why didn’t you tell me?” Angela thought for a moment. “I’m sorry, Mommy. I forgot…” But I knew it wasn’t that she forgot. Ross must have told her not to mention Amber to me. Before today, I had never thought to ask Angela if there were any other women around her father. I never imagined he would cheat, and I didn’t want to poison my daughter’s mind. Something I could have discovered with a single question, and instead, I’d been wearing this crown of thorns for who knows how long. I felt like a joke. 7. As I started the car, I noticed my hands were shaking. My vision was blurred with tears. Angela must have been missing her dad already. From her car seat in the back, she whispered, “Mommy, do we really have to go now? I miss Daddy…” I couldn’t speak. There was a lump in my throat so large it felt like it was choking me. I was afraid that if I opened my mouth, a sob would be the only thing to come out. Just then, Ross appeared in front of the car, standing there, blocking my path. He mouthed the words, “Get out.” Angela’s little voice piped up again. “Mommy, Daddy’s here! Can we stay?” He knew she didn’t understand. He was using her, deliberately. If I insisted on leaving now, in Angela’s eyes, I would be the one throwing a tantrum. He was the one who had an affair, yet he was painting me as the villain. I lowered my head and shakily typed two words into my phone and sent them to him: “Move.” 8. He didn’t move. We were locked in a stalemate for several minutes until I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw that Angela was silently wiping tears from her eyes. She missed her dad. She didn’t want to go. My heart broke all over again. Angela hadn’t spent much time with Ross since she was a baby. The only reason she adored him so much, beyond their blood tie, was because I constantly told her how wonderful her father was. But was he really so wonderful? While his wife was on crutches with a broken leg, he was off on vacation with another woman. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I collapsed onto the steering wheel, my body shaking with uncontrollable sobs. Seeing me break down, Ross immediately came over and opened the driver’s side door. “You’re in no condition to drive. Come back inside with me.” I refused. I would rather die than set foot in that apartment again. Amber’s presence was probably all over it. The two of them cuddling on the sofa, laughing together in the kitchen, kissing in the bedroom… Vile images flooded my mind, weaving a net so tight around me I could barely breathe. 9. In the end, we compromised. I didn’t go home, and he didn’t force me back to his place. We got a family suite at a hotel. I would sleep with Angela, and he would take the other bed. After Angela fell asleep, Ross tried to talk to me, but I shut him down. I didn’t want to hear any more of his lies. I just wanted the night to be over so I could go home. I was in an unfamiliar city. If something happened, I had no one to call for help. But I never expected that when I woke up the next morning, both his parents and my parents would be there. They had listened to his one-sided story and had come to a conclusion. They believed he had simply shown poor judgment and hadn’t really cheated. They urged me to think of Angela and not to file for divorce. I wasn’t surprised that his parents took his side. What truly broke my heart was that my own parents did too. 10. They didn’t understand what I was going through. Instead, they accused me of being dramatic. My mother pulled me aside, her voice low but dripping with disapproval. “Ross told us everything. Yes, he crossed a line, but it’s not worth throwing away your marriage over. He’s already promised us he’ll never see that woman again.” “It’s not about whether he sees her again! His heart isn’t with me anymore.” Seeing I wouldn’t back down, my mother glared at me. “It’s a wife’s job to hold onto her husband’s heart. If you can’t, then you have to learn to look the other way.” I couldn’t believe those words were coming from my own mother, from another woman. She knew Angela was my weak spot, and she twisted the knife without hesitation. “If you divorce him, do you really think you can win custody? You know what they say, once a stepmother moves in, the father’s attention follows. Can you really trust him to put Angela first?” “And even if you did get custody, how would you work and raise a child by yourself? You’d need our help, wouldn’t you? Your father and I are getting old. Don’t put us through that.” Her words backed me into a corner. Ross and his parents also made it clear, both subtly and overtly, that they would never give up custody of Angela. Was I supposed to stay trapped in this dead marriage forever? I refused to accept that. 11. Before I got married, I had a promising career of my own. Ross and I graduated from the same university. We were equals in education and ability. If I hadn’t sacrificed for our family, for our child, I would be just as successful as him, a force to be reckoned with in my field. And now, the very sacrifices I made for our family were being used as leverage against me. Because I had no income, I had no chance of winning custody. And Ross, after everything, thought a simple “I won’t do it again” could erase it all. My parents thought I was overreacting. My daughter knew nothing. I was the only one left to suffer, losing twenty pounds in two weeks from the sheer stress and grief. 12. Just when everyone assumed I had given in, my best friend, Maya, helped me quietly find a lawyer and a private investigator. For six long months, we gathered evidence. Ross had only managed to keep his distance from Amber for the first month. After that, convinced that my financial dependence left me powerless, he grew bold, meeting her in secret under the guise of work commitments. At first, he thought I didn’t know. Later, he assumed I was too scared to speak up. After all, both sets of parents were on his side, and I was just a housewife with no income. How could I possibly challenge him? In those dark days, I was so grateful for Maya. When she found out Ross was cheating, she didn’t tell me to turn a blind eye like everyone else. She didn’t push me to file for divorce immediately. Instead, she helped me strategize, step by step, to figure out the best course of action for me and my future. A rotten marriage needs to be cut away. Even if the sunk costs are immense, you have to let go. My life wasn’t over. I couldn’t spend the rest of it in misery, watching myself wither away. 13. When my lawyer informed me that we had enough evidence to confront Ross, I asked my daughter, “Angela, if Mommy and Daddy were to separate, who would you want to live with?” Angela looked at me quietly for a long moment, then answered with perfect clarity, “With you, Mommy.” “Why is that?” “Because Grandma and Grandpa, and Nana and Papa, they all love Daddy a lot. But you’re all alone. If I stay with you, you won’t be lonely.” I had never expected that answer. The impact of her words was more than I could bear. Tears streamed down my face, completely beyond my control. Angela reached up with her little hand to wipe them away, trying to wrap her small arms around me in a hug. “Mommy, if you’re sad, you have to tell me, okay? I can read you a story.” “I saw you crying the other night when I got up to go to the bathroom.” “Daddy never comes to see us. He’s a mean person!” I thought she was oblivious to it all, but she had seen my pain. She was just too young to know how to comfort me. 14. In the dead of night, long after Angela had fallen asleep, I picked up my phone and called Ross. It rang and rang. Just as I was about to hang up, someone answered. It was Amber’s voice. “Stella? The company had a dinner tonight. We’re still out.” “Put Ross on.” “He’s had a bit too much to drink.” “Unless he’s dead, put him on the phone.” She stammered for a moment before Ross took the phone. “Stella, don’t misunderstand. It was a work dinner, a lot of people were here.” “You don’t need to explain anything to me. I’ve emailed you the divorce papers. As soon as you’ve looked them over, I expect you back here to sign them.” Ross was silent for a moment, then his voice erupted in fury. “Stella, what is this? Another one of your games? You really think I’m afraid to get a divorce? Let’s see how you survive without me. And I’m keeping Angela. You will never see her again!”

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Three years after I saved the beastman side character, the female lead returned. When I reached the fighting pits, he was kneeling before her, a gold medal clenched in his teeth. He allowed her to drag sharp nails across his scars without resistance. Ava Summers lifted his chin with her boot. “I heard you married. Do you love your wife?” A faint smirk touched Azriel’s lips. “No.” “Then why marry her?” “To repay a debt. She saved my life.” Ava laughed, and the system notified me: Mission Failed. Who would believe that just last night, in half-beast form, he’d coiled his serpent tail around my arm, eyes shining as he asked, “You’ll stay with me forever, won’t you?” Now I had my answer: There is no forever. With the mission failed, my illness was incurable. I had only twenty-eight days left. 1 Ava leaned languidly against the railing, her red lips parting in a petulant pout. “Azriel, go get me that second gold medal. I want it.” Azriel’s dark eyes met hers, and he nodded. “Okay.” His opponent in the next round was a hawk beastman—a natural predator to a serpent. Azriel was at a clear disadvantage. The hawk’s talons were like hooks, striking with brutal precision at Azriel’s waist and abdomen. With each tear of flesh, his body convulsed, his serpent tail coiling in agony before lashing out. But he never slowed his advance, even using the force of the blows to lunge forward, his eyes fixed on the golden prize. Every swipe of the hawk’s claws tore away another piece of him. I watched as the body I had spent three years painstakingly mending with hard-earned system points was torn apart by his own reckless devotion. Finally, he seized the medal. He staggered to Ava’s feet, lifted his head, and forced a smile. “The medal. For you.” Ava took it, weighing it in her hand. Then, with a sudden, cruel twist of her lips, she lifted her foot and stomped down hard on the serpent tail that lay limp on the ground. The color drained from Azriel’s face. A cold sweat beaded on his forehead as a choked gasp of pain escaped his lips. Ava pressed down harder, and a pool of crimson began to spread from beneath his tail. Just then, the gate of a nearby cage holding a wild beast swung open—someone had unlocked it. Chaos erupted. Instinct took over. Azriel’s tail shot out, wrapping around Ava and pulling her into his embrace, his back shielding her from any potential danger. A shard of glass, sent flying by a charging beast, whizzed past my arm. I barely dodged it. I had been about to step toward him, but my feet felt nailed to the floor. The system was right. A beastman’s instincts are infinitely sharper than a human’s. And I had been standing here for two hours, watching him bleed, watching him offer up his prize, watching him throw his life on the line for someone else. Not once, in all that time, had he glanced in my direction. A splitting headache crashed over me without warning, my vision swimming with black spots. I couldn’t hold on any longer. With the last of my strength, I called out to the system, “Get me… out of here.” 2 I curled up in bed, a gnawing pain deep in my bones, as if ants were devouring me from the inside out. My illness was severe. Three years ago, desperate for a cure, I had accepted the system’s mission. When I first found Azriel, the flesh from his serpent tail to his waist was gone, his scales scattered on the ground around him, the white of his bones peeking through. He was coiled in the rain, a pathetic, broken thing. He looked even worse off than I was. I squatted in front of him, holding an umbrella over his head. “Beg me, and I’ll save you.” He heard my voice and struggled to lift his heavy eyelids. His dark, sunken eyes met mine for a fleeting moment before he pressed his bloodless lips together and stubbornly turned his head away. I chuckled and said to the system in my mind, “He’s the one.” Throughout his treatment, he watched me with those cold, wary eyes. Once, while I was changing his bandages, he sank his teeth into the back of my hand. I looked at the bleeding wound and sighed. “If you cooperate, you’ll heal much faster.” At my words, his slit pupils froze. He stared at the beads of blood welling up on my skin, then at my face, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. After that day, he slowly let his guard down. He went from cold indifference to occasional, clipped responses, and eventually, he became more and more dependent on me. I seemed to be born under a bad sign. Bumps, bruises, and illnesses were a constant part of my life. But after he healed, for three whole years, I didn’t get a single scratch, didn’t fall ill even once. He would tilt the umbrella to shield me from the rain. He would spend months preparing the perfect gift for me. He once threw his body in front of a car to protect me, creating a safe space for me in the wreckage as he bled out. The system had warned me: “Host, remember that this is just a mission. Do not develop real feelings for the target.” But I wasn’t a seasoned professional. I lacked the ability to detach. So when he looked at me with those shining eyes, clumsily offering me a ring he had fashioned from one of his own shed scales, and stammered out a proposal… I nodded and said, “Yes.” The pain in my body intensified, my thoughts becoming a blur. Out of habit, I found myself dialing his number. I wanted him to bring me some painkillers. But the phone that was always answered on the first ring just kept ringing. I thought of the way he held me every night, his eyes fixed on me even in the darkness. I thought of the cool, smooth feel of his scales as he playfully rubbed against my hand… So this was all just… repaying a debt. The pain finally consumed me, and I blacked out. 3 I was jolted awake by the thick, metallic smell of blood. As I came to, I felt a strange sense of detachment, as if something essential was being drained from me. The system had told me my illness wouldn’t just eat away at my body; it would slowly warp my personality, eroding my ability to feel. So when I saw Azriel, barely able to stand, his body a canvas of fresh wounds, my first emotion was annoyance at being disturbed. He didn’t seem to notice. He stumbled over to me, grabbing the hem of my shirt. “Wife… I’m hurt,” he rasped. I nodded. “I can see that. I’m not blind.” He froze, clearly not expecting that response. His dark eyes, clouded with pain and blood loss, stared at me blankly. After a few seconds of silence, he tried again. “Wife, it hurts… can you tell me a story? Like you used to…” I looked at the bloody handprint on my clothes with disgust. I pulled my shirt from his grasp. “I’m not the one who did this to you. Why should I be the one to tell you a story?” My words hung in the air. His breath hitched. The last trace of color drained from his face. He stared at me for a long time, his voice a raw, wounded whisper when he finally spoke. “…What’s wrong with you?” I was about to snap back with a blunt, “Nothing’s wrong, I just don’t like you,” but another wave of pain hit me, stealing my voice. My sudden distress seemed to terrify him. He panicked, hovering over me, wanting to hold me but afraid of hurting me. “Wife, what is it? Where does it hurt?” he stammered. In a world with primitive medicine, painkillers were the only reliable remedy. In that moment, I didn’t care that he was covered in blood. I grabbed his arm. “Get… get me painkillers…” I added a lie to cover my tracks. “It’s my… period…” “Okay! Okay! I’ll go right now! Right now!” he promised, fumbling to pull on a jacket before stumbling out the door. 4 I waited for what felt like an eternity. I even drifted in and out of consciousness once. He never came back. During a brief lull in the pain, I managed to dress and decided to go to the clinic myself. I never expected to find Azriel and Ava there. He was strapped to a medical bed, his wrists bound by heavy iron chains, his serpent tail hanging limply off the side. He was hooked up to a series of tubes and machines I didn’t recognize. Ava stood beside him, holding a syringe, a sweet smile on her face. “First injection, Azriel.” The moment she pushed the plunger, his body arched violently. Veins bulged on his forehead and neck, and his black tail thrashed uncontrollably. Ava watched the data on the monitors with a fascinated gaze, diligently taking notes. She picked up a second syringe. “One more to go. You still with me?” Azriel was still trembling, gasping for breath, his face as white as a sheet. But he forced out the words, “Yes… I’m… fine…” Standing outside the door, I remembered what the system had told me. In his original story, he was the devoted side character who willingly let the female lead dissect him in the name of “medical progress.” And Ava, standing on the sacrifice of his body, would become a rising star in the medical world. My first instinct was to turn and leave. The illness had already stripped away most of my empathy. But seeing him in such agony, some small, lingering part of me pushed open the door. “Stop! What are you doing?” They both looked up, surprised. Ava blinked at me. “Running an experiment.” Her tone was so innocent, so matter-of-fact, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. I took a deep breath. “But he’s in pain!” Ava let out a small, derisive laugh. “Not my problem. He volunteered.” She paused, glancing down at Azriel. “Besides, even if he were to die here, it would be an honor to sacrifice himself for the advancement of science. Right, Azriel?” The moment he heard my voice, Azriel’s pupils constricted.

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My diagnosis of cerebellar atrophy shattered my world and exposed my mother’s hidden genetic curse to my father. In a rage, he left us, taking only my healthy sister Chloe. My mother, consumed by guilt, threw herself into my rehab, bringing brief hope. But she vanished a month later, leaving just twenty dollars and a note: Leo, I tried. We’re too poor. Don’t hate me. I didn’t hate her. I understood. They had a healthy daughter to raise. I prayed Chloe would avoid our genetic fate and care for them one day. Crippled, I found work cleaning a banquet hall. A year later, I watched Chloe’s lavish 18th birthday. My parents, well-dressed, supported her—now unsteady like I had been. They looked at her with deep devotion. My mother whispered, “Chloe has symptoms. I wonder how Leo is… I almost told him who we were—” My father cut in coldly, “He’s dead. Why bring him up? That bastard doesn’t deserve to waste Chloe’s inheritance. You already played the devoted mother too long.” Guests applauded: “The Sullivans are so inspiring! By their daughter’s side all year!” I dropped my rag and clapped with my twisted hands. So, they wouldn’t abandon a sick child. They just wouldn’t keep me. 1. As I clapped, a tear escaped and splattered on the polished marble floor. Another soon followed. The floor I had just cleaned was now stained with my sorrow. My department manager, Ms. Albright, had disliked me from day one. She stormed over, grabbed my ear, and yanked my head down until my face was almost pressed against the cold stone. “Are you blind? You expect me to clean up your mess? If one of our wealthy guests slips on this, you couldn’t afford the lawsuit if they sold you for parts, you cripple! A disgusting freak like you, how dare you even look at the Sullivan girl’s party. Don’t tell me you’re getting ideas. Thinking you can hook a rich girl looking like that?” Oh. So I was a rich kid after all. No wonder my mother had the gene but never showed symptoms. No wonder Chloe, despite her unsteadiness, was a living testament to the medical miracles money could buy. Only I had been completely and utterly discarded. A bitter taste rose in my throat. I swallowed back the tears, bowed my head, and apologized. “I… I’m… s-sorry.” Those three words were a mountain my stiff tongue could barely climb. Ms. Albright shoved me away impatiently. “Get it cleaned up, now. Stop shuffling around like that. It’s a bad look. What if the Sullivans see you? You’ll ruin their night!” I quickly wiped away my tears and let her push me toward the back corridor. But then, a voice stopped us. My mother’s voice. “Wait.” It was stern, yet carried a familiar tenderness I knew all too well. It was the same voice she used when she playfully tapped my nose while helping me with homework, the same proud tone when she bought me a three-dollar cupcake for my birthday, the same voice that had suddenly whispered “I’m sorry” on the way to my first rehab session. I had always thought she was apologizing for hiding her medical history. Now I knew it was just a formality, a final courtesy for the son she was about to throw away. My body went rigid. I tucked my head deeper into my chest, my hunched back making it easy to hide. Please don’t recognize me. Please. Thankfully, she only approached to hand over two thick envelopes. “A little something for the staff. Thank you for your hard work on my daughter’s special day.” She had seen our uniforms and was simply observing etiquette. The cash in those envelopes could probably buy me a truckload of cupcakes. Ms. Albright snatched them, bowing and scraping, her mouth a waterfall of flattery. But my mother pulled one back and held it out to me. “Looking at you… you remind me of a condition I’m familiar with. I had a son… if he were alive, he might have ended up looking like you.” Good. She didn’t recognize me. When she left, I was only just starting to stumble like Chloe. Now, my limbs were contorted, my face was a twisted mask, and my body was a broken question mark. Nothing human remained. Her eyes welled up with tears. Ms. Albright rushed to offer her a tissue, then gave me another vicious shove. “Look what you did, you deadbeat! You made Mrs. Sullivan sad! Apologize!” My disobedient lips moved, but the words wouldn’t come out. My mother waved a dismissive, magnanimous hand. “Don’t blame him. In fact, I should thank him. Seeing him now… I see that my son is better off dead. Otherwise, if he had turned into… this… Ugh. In a way, I suppose I saved him.” Oh, how easily they forgave themselves. A bitter smile twisted my already crooked lips. But as I glanced at Chloe, beaming in the distance, I couldn’t even muster the energy for hatred. As I turned to leave, the broom slipped from my grasp and crashed to the floor. The loud clatter echoed through the marble hall, drawing every eye. My father’s gaze, sharp and venomous, shot toward me. I knew I was in trouble. 2. He strode over in a few quick steps, his finger jabbing at my face. Conscious of his image as a billionaire philanthropist, he hissed his curses under his breath. “Is your boss insane? Hiring a monster like this to serve at my daughter’s party? You startled our honored guests, and now they have to look at your half-man, half-ghost face. If you give someone a heart attack, ten of your worthless lives wouldn’t be enough to pay for it!” My eyes burned. But this face, this body… it was the direct result of his carelessness before marriage, my mother’s deliberate concealment, and their joint decision to abandon me. Ms. Albright was frantic, her bow deepening. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Sullivan, it was an oversight! Our owner insists on these… charity cases… to maintain the company’s philanthropic image. I’ll take this ugly freak away and teach him a lesson right now!” My father shot me a sideways glance, wrinkling his nose in disgust before turning to my mother. “It’s a good thing that little bastard is dead. If he were alive and looked like this, we’d have nightmares. I told you to give up on him the moment we found out. You and your soft heart. It almost caused a disaster.” I was used to my father’s hostility. Even as a child, whenever my mother showed me affection, his eyes would smolder with rage. “Why do you dote on him so much? I’m your husband! If you put half that effort into our daughter, she’d be a prodigy by now!” I never understood why he saw his own son as a rival, but from then on, our family began to live a “poor” life. It was all part of his “starvation education” philosophy—only through hardship could one become great. I guess their plan was to reveal the truth at our coming-of-age parties. But I never made it. On my 18th birthday, while eating that cheap cupcake, I collapsed, my head hitting the table with a sickening crack. The hospital visit revealed the truth: hereditary cerebellar atrophy. And just like that, I missed the grand reveal. Or perhaps, I had simply fulfilled my father’s deepest wish. Seeing how slowly I moved, Ms. Albright lost her patience, grabbed me by the collar, and began dragging me across the floor. The fabric bit into my neck, cutting off the air. My face turned a dark shade of purple as my twisted hands clawed uselessly at my throat. My muffled gasps only made me look more grotesque. My mother, struck by a pang of pity, started to move forward, but my father held her back. “Don’t you get it yet? People like him are better off dead. Having him wander around a place like this is an eyesore. Besides, living in that useless body is worse than being a dog. It’s a mercy, really.” He chuckled, a smug, quiet sound, before smoothing his suit and returning to the party to network for his precious daughter’s future. I clawed at my collar, my bulging eyes watching it all. For the first time, I understood what it felt like for one’s heart to turn to ash. You already let me die once. Do you really need me to die a second time? At least Chloe hadn’t seen this cruel spectacle. I looked at the large portrait of her by the entrance, her smile as bright and innocent as the day we’d stolen candy together. Chloe, please, live well for me. 3. I had considered suicide when my body first began its horrifying transformation. The boy who had been a track and field champion was now a gnarled, decaying piece of driftwood. No one could bear to look at me. But my twisted hands were too weak to even properly slice my own wrist. I was found and saved. The doctor who stitched me up was beautiful, but her voice was as cold as ice. She held my bandaged wrist, her words a thunderclap. “Dying will only prove that you really are useless.” She was right. It was pathetic. I was drowning in a swamp created by others’ mistakes, and my only solution was to plunge my head under. But as an abandoned child, what other path was there? Seeing the empty “Family Information” section on my chart, she bit her lip and handed me a business card. “When you’re discharged, take this to the Aethelgard Grand Hotel. There will be a suitable job waiting for you. Once you can support yourself, the temptation of death will fade.” I looked at the name on the card—Stella Thorne—and a faint smile touched my lips. Even you don’t recognize me, yet you’re telling me to live. In high school, she was the only girl immune to my good looks. While others practically threw themselves at me, she would always detour to avoid the crowds I drew. I knew she was the daughter of some mysterious tycoon. Back then, living in my parents’ fabricated world of poverty, I knew a girl like her was out of my league. Still, a strange, unspoken feeling had always simmered beneath the surface. For three years, we were parallel lines that never crossed. The next time we met, I was a monster who had tried to kill himself, and she was my aloof, brilliant attending physician. Before I was discharged, I swallowed my pride and asked her to issue a fake death certificate and help me create a new identity. She simply sighed and agreed. From the gossip of the nurses who adored her, I learned that the Aethelgard, the most luxurious hotel in the city, was just one of her family’s many assets. But this rebellious heiress had defied her family’s wishes, choosing medicine over money. I once asked her why she was helping me. She just gazed out the window, a distant look in her eyes. “Your name is the same as a high school classmate of mine. Only…” I knew the part she swallowed: He was much more handsome. So she did remember me. It was almost a relief that she couldn’t connect the handsome boy from her past with the broken creature before her now. Perfect. My speech was slurred, like a true patient. “Okay. I’ll live. I’ll be your success story.” If it meant seeing her a few more times before I died, it was worth it. I took the card to the hotel, but my luck ran out. The department manager, Ms. Albright, was furious about a backdoor hire like me. She assumed I was just some charity case the owner’s daughter had picked up to maintain the company’s philanthropic image and never gave me a shred of respect. I heard Stella had gone abroad for advanced studies. Without her protection, I was just trying to survive. But having a job, a way to feed myself, had indeed banished the desire for death. I just hoped I could hold on until she came back, just to show her I had kept my word. But now, I could feel the last bit of air leaving my lungs. My vision was blurring. Ms. Albright’s grip didn’t loosen. It seemed the time I had stolen from fate was finally due. Suddenly, a voice, also struggling with clarity, cut through the haze. “Let him go! You’re killing him!” 4. It took me a long moment to focus on the person standing before me. It was Chloe. Memories flooded my mind: sneaking a piece of melted candy in the middle of the night in that deliberately run-down house; acting as lookouts for each other while watching TV; finding a dollar on the street and buying a single popsicle to break in half and share… I had always believed that no matter how poor we were, we would always have each other. But the girl before me now, in her magnificent gown and perfectly styled hair, was from another world. Even with her faltering steps, it was clear she and I were no longer the same. Ms. Albright looked flustered. She bowed again. “Miss Sullivan, this… this thing startled you. I was just taking him away. Don’t worry, I know my limits. I won’t ruin your party.” “That doesn’t give you the right to torture a sick man!” Chloe retorted, her voice choked with emotion. “If my brother were still alive, he might have ended up like this…” Good. In their minds, he was already gone. I fought back tears, burying my face deeper into my chest. Chloe slowly knelt in front of me. “Don’t be afraid. You’re still able to work. That’s amazing. The hospital my parents found is incredible; I’ve already improved so much. They say a full recovery is possible. When I’m better, I’ll come find you. I’ll use my allowance to pay for your treatment.” I remembered Stella mentioning that hospital. The treatment cost tens of millions. The sister who once shared a single piece of candy with me now had an allowance that large. A wave of bitterness washed over me, but I pushed it down, leaving only a sliver of relief. I nodded numbly. The next second, my father, who had come looking for Chloe, was screaming at me. “You monster! My daughter shows you a little kindness and you dare to accept? Who do you think you are!” He lunged forward and kicked me hard in the ribs, his carefully crafted gentlemanly facade completely gone. Chloe rushed to stop him. “Dad! When we were kids, you used to sneak me out for Michelin-star dinners after he was asleep. You took me for golf and riding lessons while he was out collecting bottles. You always said boys have it easy later in life, but girls need to be cultivated early. I kept your secret for you. I owe him so much. Helping this man is a way to honor my brother’s memory. Are you going to stop me from doing even that?” My body went cold. I never imagined my sister’s acting skills were honed at such a young age. My father looked awkward. My mother just stood by, weeping silently. “You saw the way he was walking! You had nightmares for weeks, crying every night! It broke my heart! And after you found out about our real fortune, weren’t you the one who was worried he would just be a drain on your inheritance? You said once he got married, his wife would take it all anyway, that boys are never as loyal as daughters. You were the one who begged me to get you away from him! Then you cried for your mother, so she stayed with that jinx for a month before coming back to you. Honey, we don’t owe that bastard a thing. The three of us, living our best life—that’s all that matters!” My twisted fingers dug into the cheap fabric of my uniform as I fought to keep from sobbing. So, the one person I thought was innocent, my sister, was the true architect of my downfall. I thought I had only lost my looks, but it turned out my entire life was a clown’s script. And now, I was finally playing the part without a mask. Chloe let out a long sigh. “You’re right. I was born a princess, but I had to suffer through all those years of poverty just to trick him. I suppose I’ve done my part.” She held out an envelope to Ms. Albright. “Pretend I never said anything. Take him away and deal with him according to your rules.” Ms. Albright’s face split into a grin. She bowed so low her head nearly touched the floor, then grabbed my collar again. This time, I didn’t struggle. I let her pull, feeling the deep, bruising pressure on my neck. In my final moments, I thought of Stella Thorne, and a tiny corner of my heart felt a sudden warmth. I’m sorry. I couldn’t keep my promise. It’s just… living is so damn hard. Ms. Albright had only dragged me a few feet when a glass bottle flew through the air and smashed against his head. He yelped in pain and let go, cursing loudly. Then I heard a cold, clear female voice. “Is this how you treat my patient?” I thought I was hallucinating, that death was playing tricks on me. But there she was. Stella Thorne, standing not far away, a carry-on suitcase at her feet. She looked at me, her eyes filled with a disappointed anger. “Leo Sullivan. Are you giving up again? Did you forget what you promised me?” At the sound of that name, the family trio, who had been about to return to the party, froze in their tracks.

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For three years, I chased Justin Young. For three years, he was a ghost I could never quite touch, always just out of reach. On his birthday, I gave him a keychain I’d spent three months embroidering. Not long after, I saw it dangling from the fingers of his “charity case” classmate, Maya Lynn. The little moon pattern I’d so carefully stitched swayed back and forth, until it slipped and fell into a muddy puddle. Maya looked up at Justin, her eyes wide with feigned distress. “Oh, no! I’m so sorry, I got your thing dirty. I’ll go get it.” Justin caught her hand before she could move. “Forget it. It’s not important. Get back to your homework. Your GPA dropped by 0.1 points.” I looked down at my own hands, at the tiny pinprick scars covering my fingertips, and for the first time, I thought: Forget it. I retreated. I went back to being just the girl next door, the one he walked to and from school with out of habit. After graduation, I left the country. Five years later, I came home to get married. Justin was the one who picked me up from the airport. He held out the old, faded keychain, his gaze soft. “Remember this? The one you gave me.” “All these years,” he said, his voice a low murmur, “I’ve been waiting for you to come back.” 1. As Justin offered me the keychain, my phone buzzed. My fiancé was on the other end, being a big baby, whining about how he couldn’t stand being apart for a whole month. With someone else in the car, I felt a little self-conscious, so I placated him with a few sweet words and promised to call him later. When I hung up, Justin was still watching me. I cleared my throat awkwardly. “That thing is so old. It’s useless, really. You can just toss it.” Justin’s eyes met mine. “I couldn’t. It was a gift from you.” In all the years I’d known him, it was the first time he’d ever spoken to me with such warmth. It was… unsettling. I fidgeted with my seatbelt. “Let’s just go. I’m starving.” The thought of real, home-cooked food after years away made my stomach rumble. The car moved smoothly through the city streets. A familiar, melancholic love song drifted from the speakers. Justin reached into the center console and placed a packet of wheat crackers in my hand, his other hand steady on the wheel. “This was your favorite song. I put it on for you,” he said. “And your favorite crackers. To tide you over.” If I hadn’t known him for over a decade, I would have found it touching. Instead, I was just baffled. “Justin, did you get struck by lightning or something? What’s with the personality transplant?” The Justin I remembered was the untouchable prince of our elite circle, a boy who held the world at a cool distance. Well, not the entire world. There was one person he’d let in. And it wasn’t me. All his patience, all his kindness, had been reserved for Maya Lynn, the scholarship student. They were the couple everyone in high school had obsessed over. A small, ironic smile touched my lips. Time really does heal all wounds. And erases all delusions. Justin’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. He glanced at me, a nervous energy about him. “Jasmine, I haven’t changed. I just… I’ve really missed you.” 2. If he’d said that to me five years ago, I probably would have shrieked with joy and launched myself into his arms. Now, my heart was a placid lake. I managed a polite, worldly chuckle to save him the embarrassment. “Don’t be silly, Justin. We’ve known each other for ages. No need for formalities.” It was a standard, brush-off line, but he seemed to hear something else entirely. He fell silent, but a small smile played on his lips, and the way he looked at me was suddenly open, intense, and utterly undisguised. Ugh. Well, he’d figure it out soon enough when he heard me planning my wedding. Forty minutes later, we pulled up to my family’s villa. The Youngs lived right next door. Justin’s parents were away on business, so when my mom saw him, she insisted he stay for dinner. Since I was back for a while, I’d brought three enormous suitcases. Justin grabbed the handle of the luggage cart with one hand and reached for my shoulder bag with the other. I gave him a strange look. He just shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. “You… always wanted me to carry your bag for you, didn’t you?” That was a long, long time ago. On my birthday our freshman year of high school, I’d come down with a nasty flu. I was dizzy and weak, but I’d insisted on going to school with him. When we got out of the car, my vision swam, black spots dancing at the edges. Justin was already a few paces ahead, waiting, his hands shoved in his pockets. His expression was the usual mask of cool indifference. “Hurry up,” he’d said. “We’re going to be late.” I was so foolish back then. I thought his impatience was concern. My body was screaming, but I managed a clumsy jog to catch up, arriving before him breathless, my face pale and slick with sweat. “Justin,” I’d wheezed, trying for a playful pout. “My bag is so heavy.” Please, carry it for me. He’d simply raised an eyebrow, unmoved. After a three-second pause, his icy gaze made my heart freeze over. I instantly regretted my forwardness. When I dared to look up again, he was already gone. For that one moment of asking for too much, Justin had given me the silent treatment for two weeks. It was only after I swallowed my pride and apologized profusely that he’d resumed our shared commutes. I’d completely forgotten about that day. I was surprised he remembered. I pulled my bag back from his grasp and offered a polite smile. “I’m not that delicate. I’ve got it.” I started pulling one of the suitcases myself. Justin’s expression darkened. He opened his mouth to say something, but another voice cut in from behind us. It was Maya Lynn. I hadn’t seen her in years. “Jasmine, you’re back! It’s been so long!” she chirped. “Justin, why didn’t you tell me you were picking Jasmine up today? I would have come with you! Poor Jasmine, coming all this way back home, it must have been so tough!” 3. Maya had changed. She’d shed the timid, mousy demeanor of her high school years, replaced by a polished confidence. Her long, silky hair was paired with a crisp blouse and a tailored skirt, the picture of a competent professional. She took one of the suitcases from Justin as if she were the lady of the house and breezed past me into the foyer, her eyes shining with a manufactured delight. “Jasmine, how was it, living abroad? Are you back to look for a job?” she asked, her tone oozing casual intimacy. “Not exactly,” I said coolly, walking past her. “Just back to take care of some things.” My parents were waiting inside and enveloped me in a crushing hug. “You’re so thin!” my mom cried, her eyes welling up. “My baby girl, you haven’t been eating properly, have you?” “I told you not to go to that godforsaken country for school, but you wouldn’t listen. Look at you, you’re all worn out.” I went to the UK, not Siberia. But I knew she wasn’t just talking about the distance. Everyone in my family knew about my hopeless crush on Justin. Her words were laced with sympathy for my past heart-break. The problem was, the man in question was standing right behind me. And his… girlfriend… was right there with him. I had to smooth things over. “Mom, stop. It wasn’t that bad. I had a great time,” I said, patting her arm. “And I’m not worn out, I’m just tan. I went surfing in Hawaii last month.” It was the truth, but they didn’t seem to believe me. My mom just squeezed my hand and sighed. “Alright, alright, let’s not talk about sad things. I made all your favorites. Go get changed, dinner is almost ready.” By now, Justin and Maya had brought the rest of the luggage in and were standing awkwardly in the living room. My dad, ever the gracious host, started to greet them, but froze when he saw Maya. “Hey, aren’t you that…” Maya stepped forward, a practiced smile on her face. “Hello, Mr. Davis. I’m an old classmate of Jasmine and Justin’s. I used to visit the Youngs’ house often, so we may have met before. My name is Maya Lynn.” My dad blinked. “Oh. Right. Hello. Well, since you’re here, you might as well stay for dinner.” Men and women are wired differently. My dad just saw an unexpected guest. My mom saw a predator staking her claim. As I headed to my room to change, she followed me, her face a thundercloud. “Isn’t that the girl who ruined things between you and Justin?” she whispered furiously. “And what is Justin thinking, bringing her here today? What is that supposed to mean?” She was clearly ready to go to war for me. “Mom, please, calm down,” I said quickly. “I honestly don’t care. Please don’t make a scene. Besides, I told you, I have a boyfriend. I’m back to get engaged. Justin is ancient history.” I meant every word, but my mom wasn’t convinced. She’d been a front-row spectator to my years of obsessive devotion to Justin. At dinner, the table was laden with my favorite dishes: king crab legs, a whole lobster, seared scallops, and a rich, creamy bisque. My parents had clearly pulled out all the stops, terrified I’d been living on ramen noodles for five years. We had just sat down when Maya let out a dramatic sigh. “Jasmine, you’re still so… extravagant.” She cast a wounded look at Justin, that familiar, doe-eyed vulnerability shining in her eyes. “After all these years, I thought you would have outgrown this. But you haven’t changed at all.” She gestured at the feast. “A single meal that costs more than my monthly salary… more than what some children in impoverished countries see in years. I’m not trying to criticize you, but can’t you change this wasteful habit? Can’t we just have a normal, simple dinner? Do you always have to play the princess?” 4. My parents’ faces fell at her sudden, sanctimonious lecture. They didn’t know that this was a replay of countless scenes from high school. Back then, her words would leave me hurt and speechless, and Justin would just sit there, silent. When she was finished and I tried to defend myself, he would cut me off with a cold, “Jasmine, just drop it.” So, Maya was used to lecturing me with impunity. She assumed I would take it, just like I always had. She was wrong. I wasn’t that girl anymore. I slowly set down my fork and met her gaze, a cool smile playing on my lips. My eyes were devoid of warmth. “Miss Lynn, is there a problem with the food at my house?” Her lips thinned. “No, I’m just pointing out your bad habit of being wasteful. It’s for your own good.” “Oh. Well, since you find my habits so disagreeable, perhaps you shouldn’t eat my family’s food. I wouldn’t want you to choke.” My gaze flickered meaningfully to the large piece of lobster she had just placed in her bowl, next to a generous helping of bisque. Her eyes welled up with tears. She turned to Justin. “Justin, look at her…” Justin said nothing. I laughed, a little louder this time. “He can’t help you here. Miss Lynn, please leave. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” There was no coming back from that. Maya’s face crumpled. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she stood, casting one last, pleading look at Justin. When he remained silent, she shot me a look of pure hatred and fled. A wave of profound satisfaction washed over me. I ladled some bisque into my bowl and began to eat with gusto. After a long moment, Justin sighed. “There. You got to vent. You feel better now?” he asked, a hint of smugness in his voice. “Jasmine, you’re still so childish.” He clearly thought my little outburst was all about him, a pathetic act of jealousy. He placed a few kernels of corn on my plate. “You don’t like Maya, so I let you have your revenge. You wanted to blow off some steam, so I let you make a scene. I was wrong in the past, Jasmine. You can get back at me however you want, as long as it makes you happy.” He paused, his tone shifting to one of reasonable explanation. “But… Maya comes from a difficult background. She was on financial aid all through school. Seeing all this… waste… it’s only natural she’d be a little upset. Her words were harsh, but you have to understand where she’s coming from. Don’t hold it against her.” His patronizing, tone-deaf speech made even my mom’s expression curdle. Justin, oblivious, continued. “Alright, you finish eating. I’m going to head out.” He stood up. “You were a little rude just now. Maya is an old classmate, after all. It’s not good to be on such bad terms. I’ll go explain things to her on your behalf.” He hurried out. My mom followed him to the door and slammed it shut with a resounding bang. When she turned around, the look of admiration she used to have for him was gone, replaced by the sheer, unadulterated frustration of dealing with a complete moron. “Seriously,” she fumed, “when did that boy become such a clueless idiot? Is he sick in the head?”

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