Ten years ago, another girl and I were sold into the mountains. To buy me time to escape, they broke both her legs. After we were rescued, my parents took her in as their adopted daughter and treated her like their own. Because of this, they neglected me—the one suffering from severe depression. They said, “You only have depression, but Wendy lost both her legs because of you.” But Mom, Dad, you’re both psychologists. Don’t you know that people with depression don’t want to live? My hand trembled uncontrollably as I clutched my phone. The physical symptoms were getting worse—my bones itched unbearably from deep within. I’d called Mom over a dozen times. She’d hung up every single one. Her text message was ice cold too. *Nina, today is Wendy’s comingofage ceremony. Stop making a scene.* My fingers unconsciously picked at the scabbed wound. I felt no pain—only a strange, liberating pleasure. I pressed my lips together and slowly typed a reply. Okay, Mom. I’ll make dinner and wait for you and Dad to come home. They were the city’s top psychologists with countless patients. But they still made time in their busy schedules to attend Wendy’s comingofage ceremony. I wiped away my tears and staggered to my feet. With practiced ease, I wrapped gauze around my wound and pulled on a longsleeved shirt that covered everything. Layer after layer of fabric wrapped around my body felt awkward. But over time, I’d gotten used to it. I ordered lots of ingredients through a delivery app. Dad’s favorite sea bass, Mom’s favorite beef, and Wendy’s beloved salmon. I washed the blood off the knife and tucked it back into the knife block, then grabbed another knife to prep the ingredients. My phone buzzed a few times. It was a voice message from Wendy. She was as gentle as always. “Nina, Mom and Dad both came to my comingofage ceremony. Why didn’t you come?” My thoughts felt sluggish. It wasn’t until an alarm with a reminder went off on my phone that I remembered why I hadn’t gone. Because today was my comingofage ceremony too. Last night before bed, I’d been abnormally excited. I imagined what gifts Mom and Dad might prepare for me. Maybe receiving their gifts would give me just a little more will to live. I lowered my eyes and looked at the family photo Wendy had sent me. She sat in her wheelchair, her biological parents standing on the left, my mom and dad standing on the right. The four of them held up a banner. *Wishing Wendy health every year, worryfree always.* I snapped back to reality and sent her my blessing and explanation. “Wendy, happy birthday.” “I didn’t come because today is my comingofage ceremony too. Can you tell Mom and Dad for me?” “I’m waiting for them to come home for dinner.” Wendy didn’t reply. But I knew she must be crying from guilt right now, urging Mom and Dad to come home and be with me. We’d survived together, grown up side by side for ten years, connected like flesh and bone. No one understood each other better than we did. There was only one thing I’d kept from her. Her legs were broken, but she escaped that mountain village. My soul, however, remained locked there forever, unable to find peace. I shook my head, pushing away the chaotic thoughts, and focused on preparing the meal. Half an hour later, the front door opened. Several voices called my name in unison. “Nina, we’re home.” Wendy’s choked voice stood out especially. “Nina, I’m sorry, I didn’t know today was your birthday too…” I pressed down my trembling hands and poked my head out from the kitchen. Mom and Dad wheeled Wendy to the kitchen doorway. The sweet scent of chocolate cake wafted toward me. Mom cleared her throat and handed the cake to me. “Happy birthday, Nina.” The light in my eyes suddenly brightened. But the moment I touched the cake, that brightness instantly turned to deathly silence. I’d seen this cake before. In the photos Wendy sent me, this was the top tier of the beautiful, elaborate fivelayer cake.

I still put on a smile. “I’ve already made dinner. Should we eat now?” Wendy looked up, her gaze tracing over my face again and again. After confirming I really wasn’t angry, she breathed a sigh of relief and quickly grabbed my hand. “Let’s eat! Nina, you don’t know how terrible the restaurant food was.” “It’s your birthday and you still had to cook. That must have been hard.” I kept smiling, the curve of my lips unchanged. But I suddenly yanked my hand free from Wendy’s grasp, turned, and rushed into my room, slamming the door hard. The bedroom curtains were drawn tight, not letting in a sliver of light. I curled up in the corner, my whole body shaking uncontrollably. I couldn’t. I couldn’t let Wendy see me like this. Mom started pounding on the door. “Nina, you scared Wendy with your dramatics!” “Come out right now and apologize to Wendy!” I desperately pinched my palm to control myself, creating several bloody crescent marks. “I’ll be right out, Mom.” I stumbled to my nightstand and took out the gift I’d prepared for Wendy long ago. Taking several deep breaths, I opened the door. Wendy hung her head while Mom and Dad stood beside her, their expressions tense. I grinned as if nothing had happened and crouched beside Wendy. “Wendy, you love vintage things. I found this for you.” Scalding tears fell onto the back of my hand. Her voice was hoarse as she asked: “Nina, we’ve known each other for ten years, and I didn’t even remember your birthday. Are you upset with me?” I shook my head gently. “No.” If it hadn’t been for Wendy back then, I would have died long ago. Mom let out a long breath and wheeled Wendy to the dining table. Dad pulled me into the kitchen under the pretense of serving food. “Nina, I hope what happened today doesn’t happen again.” “Wendy became the way she is because of you. You shouldn’t give her the cold shoulder.” I clutched my clothes, my voice soft: “Dad, I wasn’t being cold. It’s the physical manifestation of my depression.” He frowned, his voice turning cold: “Nina, depression isn’t that easy to get. Have you been secretly reading your mother’s and my psychology books again?” I opened my mouth but didn’t know how to argue. The doorbell rang. Mom opened the door and welcomed Wendy’s parents inside. They still wore the custommade formal wear from Wendy’s ceremony, carrying a few boxes of milk and snacks. Their attitude was perfunctory and dismissive. “We didn’t realize today was Nina’s birthday too. We didn’t have time to prepare any gifts.” Mom and Dad’s smiles didn’t change one bit. They’d long grown accustomed to Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence’s dismissive attitude toward me. The person who’d caused Wendy to lose her legs had died. So naturally, the Lawrences transferred their hatred to me. I said nothing and simply brought the dishes to the table. I sat down next to Wendy. The two sets of parents chatted animatedly. Under the table, Wendy’s hand moved and hooked around my finger. Her voice was quiet: “Nina, you’re eating too little.” I leaned close to her ear and whispered my secret. “I can’t eat much right now.” Actually, that wasn’t it. It was because my depression was too severe. One more bite and I’d want to vomit. Vomiting in front of elders would be very rude. Wendy laughed at my serious tone. The parents’ conversation stopped, their eyes falling on us. Mrs. Lawrence set down her fork: “Wendy, your comingofage ceremony was ruined. How can you still be so happy?” The atmosphere instantly froze. Mom and Dad exchanged glances and tried to smooth things over with a laugh: “The kids are just whispering and laughing, it’s nothing…” “Kids?” Mrs. Lawrence scoffed. “They’re adults now. What kind of kids?” “Some things need to be said clearly. Back then, you two caused both children to be kidnapped. My daughter nearly died, but your daughter came out without a scratch!” “And you two keep showing up in front of my daughter.” Her voice suddenly rose: “You’re the culprits! You’re breaking my daughter’s heart!” The peace maintained for many years shattered in this moment. Mom and Dad’s faces went white, breaking out in cold sweat from guilt. Wendy gripped my icecold hand tightly and screamed in disbelief: “Mom, what are you saying?” Mrs. Lawrence’s eyes were icy: “Wendy, you’re softhearted, but being softhearted to everyone will only hurt you.” “From now on, we forbid you from seeing Nina again.” They ignored Wendy’s protests and wheeled her away. As the door slammed shut, I met her tearfilled eyes as she shook her head frantically. I bit the soft flesh inside my cheek and silently mouthed: “It’s okay.” Mom and Dad sat at the dining table, their faces pale as paper. Their eyes were empty, unfocused, murmuring: “Nina, you deserve this.” “This is what our family owes them.” I nodded and returned to my room, vomit and tears falling together into the trash can. If I’d died in that village, would everyone be happy?

I didn’t know when I fell asleep. In my dream, I seemed to return to that year when I was eight. A depression patient my parents had been treating jumped off a building. The patient’s family believed Mom and Dad had guided the patient to commit suicide. They wanted to make Mom and Dad experience the pain of losing a loved one too. So they found my school and kidnapped me. Wendy saw me being dragged into the car and started crying from fear. The kidnappers were afraid of being exposed, so they took her too. After several transfers, we were sold to a mountain village. The man who bought us was a single man. He treated me as a woman and treated Wendy like livestock. When Wendy went out to work in the fields, he would tie me to the bed. I don’t know how long those days lasted. I finally found a chance to knock him unconscious with something. But I was too weak—he only passed out for a moment. Wendy came home just in time and grabbed his legs to hold him back. I ran to the village entrance and happened to run into Mom and Dad, who’d followed the leads to find me. But when we went back to save Wendy, her legs were already twisted beyond recognition. Such a terrifying dream. This dream had tormented me for ten years. I woke with a start, my hands trembling as I grabbed my phone to call Wendy. She hadn’t slept either, crying until her voice was hoarse but still trying to comfort me. “Nina, don’t listen to what they said.” “It’s not your fault. You’re innocent too.” I was silent for a moment before speaking softly: “Wendy, can I come see you?” I ran as fast as I could to Wendy’s apartment building. She was struggling to wheel herself out. I rushed over and pushed her to the small garden in the residential complex. It was the middle of the night—the complex was empty. The world was so quiet, there was only us. I fumbled in my pocket and pressed my bank card with all my savings into her hand. “I know your aunt and uncle got you the latest prosthetic technology that won’t irritate your residual limbs.” She pushed it back with red eyes. I insisted on tucking it into her pocket. “Wendy, don’t refuse me.” “Our family owes your family. If it weren’t for me, you’d still be healthy.” “Just let me make it up to you, even just a little.” I crouched in front of her and gently brushed against her leg. Ten years ago, when I was thrown out like a broken rag doll, she’d cried as she placed my head on her lap. She told me everything would be okay. Now, tears streaming down her face, she tremblingly brushed my teardampened hair away from my face. “Nina, Nina, everything will get better.” The night was pitch black, but Wendy’s eyes always sparkled. I said nothing. After we’d both cried silently for a long time, a light turned on. Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence arrived, their voices trembling: “You again!” “Nina, why are you looking for my daughter in the middle of the night?” Furious, they pulled Wendy in front of them. Their voices held unbearable pain. “Wendy! You can ignore the harm she’s caused you.” “But do you know that every time you see her, our hearts ache!” “In our eyes, she’s the culprit who turned you into this! We wish she would die!” “Please don’t see her anymore, okay?” Wendy cried and shook her head. But I laughed: “Don’t worry, Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence.” “Today is the last time I’ll see Wendy.” Finally, I bent down and whispered in Wendy’s ear: “What happened in that village—never speak of it again, even until death.” With that, I turned and left decisively. Wendy’s crying and shouting scattered in the wind. I walked far away before I dared look back. My heart felt like it had a huge hole torn in it, whistling with wind. The bond we’d grown up with, connected like flesh and bone, I’d severed with my own hands. It hurt so much. It hurt even more than when the knife sliced across my wrist.

When I got home, Mom and Dad were sitting on the sofa with cold faces. I took a deep breath and put on a smile. “Mom, Dad, why aren’t you sleeping so late?” They looked at me, their eyes full of exhaustion. “Nina, what did you do?” “Do you know Wendy just threatened to kill herself?” The forced smile froze on my face, a buzzing sound filling my ears. I shook my head, my voice distant: “Mom, my depression is really bad. I just had an auditory hallucination.” “How could Wendy want to kill herself?” Mom walked up to me, her eyeballs filled with bloodshot veins. Her hand rose high and came down hard. A burning sting spread across my cheek. I heard her crying as she shouted at me: “Nina, how long are you going to keep up this act?” “Wendy was kidnapped because of us. To save you, she became disabled. We were afraid she and her family would hate you, so we did everything we could to make it up to her.” “But what did you do? You saw her once and almost drove her to death!” She covered her face and collapsed crying into Dad’s arms. Dad’s face was deathly pale, his lips trembling: “Nina, Wendy is more pitiful than you.” “I don’t care what you said to her. Come with us to the hospital right now and get on your knees to apologize to her and her parents.” “You don’t come home until they forgive you.” He reached out and grabbed my wrist, his fingertips pressing right into my wound through my sleeve. The pain brought me a strange pleasure. I suddenly laughed. Under their horrified gazes, I rolled up my sleeve a little. Just enough to reveal the wound on my wrist. “If I apologize to them, then who’s going to apologize to me?” “Mom, Dad, I have very, very severe depression. I want to die.” I said this almost woodenly. Mom cried even harder, and Dad’s face looked even worse. They pushed past me and slammed the door hard. Leaving behind only one sentence: “Playing the victim to escape responsibility again. If we’d known you’d turn out like this, we shouldn’t have rescued you in the first place.” I stood in the living room for a very, very long time. So long that the sky changed from dark to gray, and finally a piercing light appeared. The sky outside grew bright. But my sky had become eternal night. I smiled a little and moved my numb legs. I picked up the broom and mop and cleaned the entire house. When I was first rescued, I wouldn’t eat or drink, my whole person like a soulless broken doll. Mom and Dad were afraid I’d do something drastic, so they tried every way to distract me. They choked up: “Nina, if there’s anything that can make you forget those things, just do it.” “Mom and Dad don’t want to lose you.” For those words, I became obsessed with housework. Over time, the habit stuck. But this time I was exceptionally meticulous, cleaning every corner. After all, it was the last time. I put on my most presentable clothes and lay down on the bed. I opened the sleeping pills I’d prepared long ago and shoved them into my mouth by the handful. Good thing I’d prepared honey water. Otherwise, how could I swallow such bitter pills? Outside the window, clouds covered the sun. It was dark—perfect for sleeping. But as I grew drowsy, I wanted to say goodbye to them. I sent everyone a message. *Dad, I’m in so much pain right now.* *Mom, I miss you so much. You haven’t hugged me in so long.* *Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence, I’m sorry. I’m the one who hurt Wendy.* *Wendy, you guessed my illness. Don’t do anything fool…* My vision kept going black. I had no strength left. My body didn’t hurt anymore either. I felt light as a feather. Let it be like this. There’s nothing much left I want to say.

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In my senior year of high school, I was brought back home from the countryside. Watching me count on my fingers to do basic arithmetic, while my brother, the same age as me, had already become a study influencer with millions of followers. My parents, both education experts, teared up and hugged me with heartache. “We’re so sorry. We shouldn’t have left you in the countryside. We’ll make it up to you.” For my sake, Mom quit her high-paying job to tutor me every day. Dad started drinking with clients every night just to hire the best tutors for me. My brother Ethan even livestreamed tutoring sessions with me every evening. But on the placement test, I only scored nine out of one hundred fifty on the math exam. Mom stared at that bright red single-digit score and completely broke down. She tore my test paper to shreds, screaming hysterically. “Your father and I both graduated from top universities, and your brother is a genius. How could we possibly have given birth to an idiot like you!” Ethan walked over with a dark expression and activated a new interactive feature on his livestream. “Everyone, from now on, you can submit questions. We’ll display them in real-time.” “Today, she’s not allowed to eat or sleep until she finishes every single problem!” Instantly, thousands of difficult problems flooded the screen like a waterfall, everything from elementary school math competitions to calculus. I was forced to sit at the desk. Looking at that endless sea of problems, I picked up my pen in despair. I thought back to my time in the countryside. My grandparents always praised me as the smartest child in the world. Why did I become a criminal when I came to Mom’s house? Mom, I’m not worthless. Please give me one more chance.

The livestream camera was pointed at my face. Comments scrolled rapidly. “Stop playing dead and do the problems. One problem equals one donation. Keep it up, streamer.” “Her eyes can barely stay open. Is she about to die?” “Shut up! This kind of waste deserves to be punished, or else she won’t appreciate what her parents are doing for her.” My heart felt like it was being squeezed. Each contraction brought a stabbing pain. Mom had told me before that if I didn’t feel well, I should tell her so it wouldn’t affect my study efficiency. I remembered. I used all my strength to squeeze a few words from my throat. “Mom, my chest hurts.” If she’d just let me rest for a moment, even just five minutes, I would definitely solve the next problem. Mom was staring at the livestream data on Ethan’s phone. She didn’t even look up. “Cut the act.” Her voice was cold. “Your brother once had a fever of 104 degrees and still kept working through competition math problems. He didn’t get a single one wrong.” “You’ve only done a few problems and you’re already hurting here and there?” Ethan smirked mockingly. He explained smoothly to the camera. “See this, everyone? This is typical avoidant personality. When faced with difficulty, she tries to gain sympathy by playing weak.” After saying that, he muted all comments. The entire livestream fell silent, leaving only a blood-red banner pinned at the top. “No eating or sleeping until all problems are finished!” The mocking voices around me gradually faded. The whirlpool before my eyes grew larger and larger. I thought of Grandma back in the countryside. She used to fan herself on summer nights and tell me that when people die, their souls become very, very light and can fly up to the sky and become stars. I really wanted to become a star. That way, I could see Grandma. Snap. The sound of my pen tip breaking. Then my throat turned sweet. Warm blood surged out and sprayed onto the blank test paper in front of me. I’m sorry, Mom. Today’s problems… I can’t finish them. The world suddenly went quiet. My chest stopped hurting. My body really did seem to become lighter-so light that it floated up from the chair. I floated near the ceiling, watching myself still slumped over the desk, motionless. Mom finally walked over. She saw the blood on the test paper, and a flash of panic crossed her eyes. But that panic lasted only one second. She probably thought I’d deliberately knocked over red ink. Mom, that’s not red ink. I’m sorry I got your test paper dirty. I watched the panic in her eyes quickly turn to rage. “Alysa! You’ve gotten bold now, haven’t you? Playing these little tricks!” “Fine. I’ll see just how long you can keep up this act!” “Click.” The door was locked from the outside. Mom’s icy voice came through the door, piercing. “You’re not leaving this room until you finish every single problem!”

The room was terrifyingly quiet. Only the livestream equipment blinked with a faint red light. My body lay slumped on the desk, motionless. Outside the door, I heard the low voices of Dad, Mom, and Ethan. “Are you dressed? We can’t be late for Mr. Evans’ dinner.” That was Dad’s voice. “All ready. Ethan, hurry up. Your grandparents are going too. Don’t keep them waiting.” That was Mom. Ethan’s voice carried a hint of impatience. “I know, I know. Stop nagging.” They were going out. Going to a lively family dinner. And I was locked in this room. An invisible force pulled at me, preventing me from staying in place. I could only follow them, passing through that locked door. Don’t go… Mom, I haven’t finished the problems yet. Where are you going? Did I do something wrong again? Is that why you’re leaving me behind? I floated behind them, watching Ethan’s limited-edition sneakers gleaming under the lights. They were all dressed up, looking completely unrelated to the girl growing cold in that room. The family got in the car. The heat was on full blast. As soon as Ethan got in, he pulled out his phone to brag. “Dad, Mom, look! My livestream broke another record! We had over 200,000 viewers online at the same time!” Mom’s face immediately lit up with satisfaction. “That’s my son. So accomplished.” Dad nodded approvingly. “Keep it up. This account is going to be valuable for your future.” They laughed, planning a beautiful future. I tried to touch Mom’s hand. It was the warmth I used to crave most. But my fingertips passed right through her body without resistance. Mom, your hands are still so warm. Why can’t I feel them anymore? Am I too cold? The car stopped at a red light. A skinny stray dog on the roadside suddenly started barking frantically at our window. Its barks were shrill, drawing looks from passersby. After a few barks, it let out a series of whimpers, tucking its tail and whining pitifully as it looked at me in the car. It pitied me. Dad was annoyed by the noise. He rolled down the window, about to scold the dog. But then he heard someone in the car next to us watching their phone and commenting loudly. “Look at this livestream! Is this girl okay? She’s been slumped over for almost two hours without moving!” “Seriously? Let me see… oh my God, her hands are turning purple! Someone call the police!” The smiles froze on my parents’ faces. Dad snatched the phone from Ethan and stared at the livestream. On screen, I still maintained my “sleeping” position, completely motionless. The flicker of concern in Mom’s eyes quickly morphed into contempt and anger. “I knew she was faking it! That little brat-she’ll do anything to avoid seeing relatives. Shameless!” Dad’s expression also turned cold. He tossed the phone back to Ethan, disgust in his voice. “Turn the livestream volume to max and loop math formulas for her.” “Let’s see how long she can sleep!” I wasn’t faking… Mom, I’m just too tired. I fell asleep. When I wake up, I’ll definitely finish all the problems. Please don’t be angry, okay? Accompanied by formulas I couldn’t understand, the car smoothly pulled into the five-star hotel parking lot. They got out and headed toward that feast without me. And I could only follow behind them.

The hotel’s most luxurious private dining room was full of relatives from the Sterling family. The moment they walked in, all eyes turned toward them. I saw my grandparents sitting in the seats of honor. When they realized no one was behind my parents, the light in their eyes dimmed. “Where’s Alysa?” Grandma stood up shakily, looking anxiously toward the door. “Didn’t you say you’d bring Alysa today? Since the child came back to the city, I haven’t even gotten a good look at her.” Mom sat down in her seat and picked up the wine glass in front of her, taking a small sip. “Don’t worry.” She smiled, though her tone carried a hint of helplessness. “Alysa is so stubborn. She got wild living in the countryside. She said she didn’t want to see the family, so now she’s at home staging a hunger strike.” My soul floated in midair. The table was full of delicious food, but I couldn’t smell any of it. I only felt cold. I watched grandma sit back down in disappointment and secretly slip a freshly fried chicken leg into her coat pocket. She muttered quietly to herself, “This child just loves the chicken legs I make… I’ll bring it back for her later.” A fashionably dressed aunt spoke up, her tone dripping with flattery. “Oh, don’t worry too much. Ethan is so outstanding. That’s what matters, right?” “Exactly,” another uncle chimed in. “Our Ethan is an influencer with millions of followers and a future Ivy League student! What could a country girl possibly amount to?” The relatives immediately began praising Ethan. Ethan waved his hand modestly. “Hey, everyone, please don’t say that.” He sighed, his voice just loud enough for everyone at the table to hear. “My sister is completely unmanageable. Today during the study livestream, everyone saw it. She started playing sick while doing problems, acting like she was dying.” “For her sake, my mom quit her job. My dad goes out networking every day. What does she do? She doesn’t appreciate any of it.” With just a few sentences, he painted me as ungrateful. The entire private room turned into a collective trial against me. “I told you. Kids who grow up in the countryside just don’t work out. Nothing but bad habits.” “Must be a genetic mutation. Otherwise how do you explain a family of geniuses producing a waste?” “Thank God we still have Ethan to carry on the family name, or she’d have ruined the Sterling family’s reputation completely!” Bang! Grandma slammed the table in fury and stood up. Her thin fingers trembled with anger as she pointed at everyone around the table. “What nonsense are you all spouting!” “Alysa is the sweetest child in the world! When she was in the village, she drew pictures for me every day-clouds in the sky, flowers in the fields. She’s more thoughtful than anyone!” “It’s you! It’s you people who brought her back and pushed her too hard!” Dad finally put down his fork. He wiped his mouth deliberately and looked at Grandma with stern authority. “You don’t understand education.” “She needs to suffer a little now so she won’t be worthless in the future.” “We locked her at home to make her reflect on what she did wrong.” Reflect? I floated beside Grandma, wishing I could hug her and tell her not to be angry. Don’t be angry over someone who’s already dead. But the moment I got close, Grandma shivered violently. “Oh my, why is the air conditioning in this room so cold?” Grandma, it’s me. I’m too cold. I looked at the fried chicken hidden in grandma’s pocket-the one she saved for me. My soul trembled violently. That chicken leg was still hot and steaming. But I would never get to eat it.

The atmosphere in the private room fell into deadlock because of Grandma’s outburst. “You don’t believe me?” Grandma pulled a crumpled letter from her inner pocket with trembling hands. “This is what Alysa secretly sent to me a few days ago! Look. This is her drawing!” She carefully unfolded the paper like she was holding a treasure. “She said she missed home and wanted to come back to the countryside… Look how well she draws!” On the paper was the endless field of flowers from the countryside. In the golden sea of flowers stood four people. Dad, Mom, Ethan, and me. Dad was lifting me high above his head. Mom and Ethan stood on either side. Everyone’s faces wore brilliant smiles. This was the only fantasy that kept me alive after coming to the city. But Mom didn’t even glance at it. She snatched the drawing away, her eyes full of contempt and impatience. “Who has time for this useless stuff!” “It’s these pointless hobbies that ruined her! Instead of studying, all she does is draw, draw, draw. Can that get her into an Ivy League school?” Before anyone could respond, she tore the drawing in half right in front of everyone. Then into more pieces. “The Sterling family doesn’t need mediocre artists!” “We only need Ivy League graduates!” Her shrill voice echoed through the room. The torn pieces of the drawing were thrown viciously into the trash bin for used plates. When the drawing was shredded, I felt my last attachment to this family break. Mom, I don’t hurt anymore. And I don’t want another chance anymore. My soul began to turn transparent. Even Grandma’s grief-stricken cries became distant. Just when Mom thought she’d won and successfully “educated” the disobedient old woman- Ethan’s phone suddenly vibrated frantically. It was a video call request. Ethan answered impatiently, planning to show off their fancy family dinner to the camera. But when the screen lit up, he froze. The livestream chat was filled with red text. “Call the police now! Streamer, your sister is really in trouble!” “I zoomed in. There’s blood at the corner of her mouth! She’s not sleeping!” “Streamer, go home and check on her! She hasn’t moved for three hours! Her hands have turned blue-purple!” “We’ve already called the police! The address is your house!” BANG! The door to the private room was suddenly shoved open from outside. It wasn’t a server. It was two grave-faced police officers in uniform. Behind them followed a medical examiner. The entire room fell deathly silent. The lead officer’s gaze was sharp. He scanned the room and finally settled on my parents. He pulled out a photo freshly printed from a portable printer. In the photo, I was slumped over the desk with blood at the corner of my mouth, my body rigid. It was a close-up. The officer’s voice was cold, each word clearly shattering the false atmosphere in the room. “Who is Alysa Sterling’s legal guardian?” “We received numerous reports from the public that your daughter had an accident during a livestream.” “After preliminary assessment by our technical department, we’ve confirmed no vital signs.” “Estimated time of death: two hours ago.”

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On our wedding anniversary, what I received wasn’t a gift. It was a settlement agreement thrust at me by Peyton. “Sign it, and I’ll release your brother.” My eyes reddened as I asked him, “Peyton, my mother had six organs harvested by your mistress, and you want me to forgive her?!” He handed me a photo without expression. My brother was bound to a chair, covered in wounds, with someone holding a knife to his throat. Peyton asked coldly, “Will you sign or not?” Through tears, I signed my name, then turned and dialed another number. “Felix, that condition you offered back then… does it still stand?” Later, Peyton knelt in the rain begging me to come back. He didn’t know- I was already carrying someone else’s child. Jenna Frost POV On our third wedding anniversary, what I received from Peyton wasn’t a gift, but a settlement agreement. “Sign this, and I’ll have your brother released.” I looked at the man’s sharply defined face through the cigarette smoke, feeling for the first time like I couldn’t see him clearly. “Peyton, my mother is dead. You want me to let Carmen go?” Peyton took a drag of his cigarette and exhaled slowly. “Jenna, she’s a professional medical assessor. It was her job, not intentional.” “Not intentional?” I shot to my feet, speaking through clenched teeth. “Six. Six whole organs! Peyton, you’re actually saying she removed six organs from my mother, ultimately causing her death, and it wasn’t intentional?” Thinking of my mother’s pallid face before her death, waves of pain crashed through my heart. It had been simple gastritis, but Carmen insisted she was in mortal danger and needed emergency surgery. My brother Wade was so frightened and confused that he signed form after form. But in the end, what we received was a death notice. My mother had died after having six organs removed. Later, Wade found out that Carmen had no surgical skills and had only wanted to experience holding a scalpel. Enraged, he stormed into her office. But the next second, Peyton’s men grabbed him. I immediately took Carmen to court. But I never imagined Peyton would show up with a settlement agreement for me to sign. “What if I don’t sign?” I reached out and tore the agreement before me into shreds. Peyton said nothing, only threw a stack of photos in front of me. “Don’t be rash. Look first, then decide.” The moment I saw the photos, my pupils trembled. In the pictures, my brother was bound to a chair, his head lolling to one side, his body covered in bruises, with electric shock devices placed nearby. “You…” I choked up instantly, unable to hold back my shout. “Peyton, you bastard! That’s my brother!” Peyton stood and walked over to me, bending down to pick up the torn settlement agreement, tapping his fingers on it twice. “Before court tomorrow, I need to see a signed agreement. I’m sorry, but Carmen can’t go to prison. This is the only way.” “What about my mother? She just deserves to die at Carmen’s hands?!” I gripped the table, my veins bulging in anger. But Peyton pressed me back down into the chair, his hands braced on either side of my armrests, his voice low. “Your mother is already dead, but your brother is still alive. Jenna, think it through carefully.” “Being alive is always more meaningful than being dead, isn’t it?” I took a deep breath. The scent of cedar mixed with tobacco flooded my nostrils. This fragrance that once made me feel so secure now made me feel sick. “Sign the papers, and Wade comes home tonight. Don’t sign…” Peyton’s fingertips gently traced my earlobe, the gesture intimate, but his voice ghostly. “Next time, it won’t be photos I send.” With that, he pulled out a fountain pen, methodically unscrewed the cap, and handed it to me. His long, clean fingers rested on the pen’s end-these hands had once caressed my face with such tenderness countless times. But now, the moment I touched his fingertips, I felt only endless cold spreading through my entire body. I signed my name stroke by stroke, each one feeling like cutting into my own flesh. Peyton collected the agreement with satisfaction, then turned and glanced at me. “Tomorrow when the reporters ask, you know what to say.” Even after the door closed, I remained in the position of holding the pen, though tears dripped onto the table without making a sound. The phone rang abruptly, and only then did I hazily come back to myself and answer. “You called me? Sorry, I was in a meeting.” A slightly cold voice came through. Only then did I realize I’d accidentally touched the screen. I was about to hang up, but as the words formed, I suddenly had another idea. “That condition from before… does it still stand?” I gripped the phone tightly, my breathing quickening with the silence on the other end. Finally, when I heard him respond with a simple “Mm,” I let out a breath of relief. “Good. A phone call isn’t convenient. Let’s meet in person.” The second the call ended, Peyton sent me a message reminding me to attend court on time tomorrow. I pulled at my lips, tossed aside my phone, and left.

Jenna Frost POV The next day in court. I stood in the witness box, reading the script Peyton had prepared for me. “I admit, there was a misunderstanding in my previous accusations against Dr. Carmen. My mother’s physical condition was complex, and the surgery itself carried extremely high risks…” I held back the burning in my eyes. Each word felt like biting my own tongue. Carmen was released in court. Outside the courthouse, I watched the reporters surge forward, and tears immediately welled up. I sobbed in front of the cameras. “I just wanted to save lives. I never imagined I’d be so misunderstood. It’s all my fault. I’ve already decided to resign.” At these words, all the microphones turned toward me. “Miss Frost, why would you falsely accuse a dedicated doctor trying to save lives?” “Because of your false accusations, the already tense doctor-patient relationship has gotten even worse. Don’t you feel any guilt?” The interrogating voices drowned me like a tide. I opened my mouth to say something, but was hit in the face by an egg thrown from somewhere in the crowd, forcing me to close my mouth. The sticky egg white sealed my eyelashes. Then water bottles, rotten vegetables, even fists-all came raining down on me like hail. I instinctively looked toward Peyton, but only saw him carefully shielding Carmen in his arms as he led her away. I instantly lost all strength, letting myself lose consciousness amid the barrage of punches and kicks. When I woke again, I was in a hospital room reeking of disinfectant. I moved slightly. My entire body hurt like it might fall apart. My forehead had been stitched up, and my vision was blurred. A familiar figure stood by the bed, his voice devoid of warmth. “You’re awake? Should I get a doctor?” I had no strength. I shook my head slightly. Peyton looked at me, hesitated for a moment, then continued. “I’ll handle the reporters. I’m sorry, I didn’t expect this to happen.” I closed my eyes, not wanting to see him. He paused, reaching out as if to touch my bandaged forehead. But I instinctively turned my head away. Finally, he tucked in my blanket, his voice lowering. “Carmen is timid. She was frightened this time. Don’t… hold it against her.” I snapped my eyes open and stared hard at him. He used my brother’s life to force me to settle, trampled my dignity and my mother’s life to protect another woman, and now he was telling me not to hold it against her? My heart felt like it had been violently torn open, with cold wind rushing endlessly inside. I suddenly felt it was all so meaningless. After much deliberation, I slowly lowered my gaze and finally said those words. “Peyton, let’s divorce.” At this, Peyton’s hand paused as he poured water, his eyes complex as he looked at me on the bed. I closed my eyes, not wanting him to see the tears in them. “Throwing a tantrum again? Jenna, I thought after yesterday, you would’ve learned.” For the first time, I felt I’d never truly known Peyton. The Peyton of the past would fly back from abroad just because I’d cut my finger. But now, when I was physically and mentally exhausted, he only said I was “throwing a tantrum.” I swallowed the sob in my throat. “Fine. I won’t mention divorce.” Peyton’s expression eased slightly, and I continued. “But I want to see Wade. At least let me know he’s safe.” “You can, but not now.” He stood and adjusted his cuffs. “Once this matter completely blows over and the media stops targeting Carmen, I’ll naturally let you see him.” “Oh, and Carmen was frightened. I’m not comfortable with her living alone, so starting today, she’ll be moving into the villa.” “No! I…” I refused, but before I could finish, Peyton cut me off. “I’m just informing you. If you dare leave, don’t blame me for breaking your brother’s legs!” With that, he turned and left the hospital room without looking back. I lay powerlessly on the cold hospital bed, sudden sharp pain radiating from my forehead. I couldn’t hold back anymore and curled up, sobbing. For the first time, I regretted saving him years ago.

Jenna Frost POV Eight years ago, when I accompanied my father on a business trip, I encountered Peyton on the street, barely clinging to life. I didn’t want to get involved, but Peyton grabbed my foot desperately. He was filthy and disheveled, but his eyes shone with startling brightness. I was moved by his will to survive and begged my father to save him. When he woke, I stood by his hospital bed and asked. “Will you be my bodyguard and protect me for life?” “I will.” Peyton answered without hesitation. From then on, wherever I was, Peyton would be there. Over eight years, he took two bullets for me, broke three ribs, fractured part of his skull, and nearly died several times. Everyone said I was the person on Peyton’s heart-touch her and die. From that moment on, I gave him everything I had, including my family’s company. Until Carmen appeared, and Peyton became like a different person. He forgot his promises and became Carmen’s protector. Whatever Carmen wanted, Peyton would provide. I told myself again and again that he was just after novelty, and once the novelty wore off, he’d come back. But only now did I understand-there was never any such thing as novelty. He simply didn’t love me anymore. Since Peyton’s heart had changed, I didn’t want this version of him either. Three days later, I was discharged and went home. Most traces of me in the living room had been erased. My usual books were replaced with manga, my favorite aromatherapy scent was changed, my beloved flowers swapped for red roses. Even my bedroom decor had been changed to the pink Carmen preferred. When Peyton came through the door pulling Carmen by the hand, carrying shopping bags, their interlaced fingers stabbed at my eyes. “Jenna, don’t misunderstand.” Sensing my gaze, Carmen hastily pulled her hand free. “It’s not what you think. Peyton said my body hasn’t recovered yet and I need quiet rest, so he insisted I stay in this sunny room.” She approached, trying to take my hand, but I stepped aside to avoid her. Carmen’s hand froze in mid-air, her expression even more pitiable. “Jenna, are you still angry at me about your mother? I’m sorry. I thought missing a few organs wouldn’t matter.” Watching her pretense and thinking of my mother’s tragic state, I couldn’t help wanting to kill her. “Get away from me!” I growled. At this, Carmen’s legs gave way and she actually knelt before me. “Jenna, why don’t you hit me? As long as it makes you feel better, even if you beat me to death, I’m willing.” Without hesitation, I stepped forward and slapped her face askew. “You think I wouldn’t dare?” The words had barely left my mouth when Peyton grabbed my hand before I could pull it back, the pain making me gasp. “Jenna Frost!” He called me by my full name, his voice cold as ice. “Haven’t you caused enough trouble? Do I need to lock you up too before you learn to behave?” Carmen stood behind him, covering her face and sobbing softly. “Peyton, don’t blame Jenna…” Peyton said coldly, “Carmen, hit her back!” Carmen didn’t react immediately, frozen in place covering her face, timidly shaking her head. “Peyton, it’s not necessary. I’m really fine…” “I said hit her back!” Peyton stared at me and repeated. “No one gets to hit my people without consequences.” He gripped my wrist tightly, ignoring the shock in my eyes. Encouraged by his gaze, Carmen raised her hand and slapped me back. “Again!” I didn’t expect Peyton to say this. A gleam of delight flashed in Carmen’s eyes as she gave me over a dozen slaps in succession. My face swelled instantly red, my mouth filling with the taste of blood. Peyton released my hand, turned to take Carmen’s hand and blew gently on it. “Now we’re even. Remember, don’t let there be a next time.” I stood there, the burning pain on my face not even one ten-thousandth of what I felt in my heart. My heart finally died in that moment.

Jenna Frost POV After they left, I went upstairs alone. The cold room caused me to develop a high fever that very night. When Peyton entered with a medical kit, I was curled up in bed, trembling continuously. Peyton reached out to touch my forehead-it was burning hot. “Get the car!” His brows furrowed sharply as he immediately lifted me in his arms and shouted downstairs. On the way to the hospital, I leaned against him in a daze, my consciousness blurred. I didn’t know if it was my imagination, but I thought I saw a trace of unfamiliar panic on Peyton’s face. Looking at his expression, I suddenly remembered our wedding day. When my father placed my hand in Peyton’s and lifted my veil, the usually calm Peyton was suddenly so nervous he couldn’t speak, his eyes as flustered as they were now. Back then he looked so young, always earnestly taking care of everything for me, never letting me suffer the slightest grievance. But now, I hadn’t seen him look this way in so long. For a brief moment, I thought it would be nice if time could just stop at this moment. Unfortunately, it was all just my fantasy. Carmen’s call came when Peyton was in the hospital corridor. “The house is so dark. I’m scared. Can you come keep me company?” “Carmen, Jenna has a fever. I…” “I’m wearing that outfit you like today. Don’t you want to see?” Carmen interrupted him, her voice coquettish. Peyton’s footsteps stopped. He glanced at me sleeping in his arms, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Wait for me.” He handed me to a nurse who had rushed over, but as he turned to leave, I grabbed his wrist tightly. “Peyton, please… let me see Wade, just once… please.” After a few seconds of silence, Peyton softened his tone. “Tomorrow. I’ll take you to see him tomorrow.” Only then did my fingers go limp and release him, letting myself pass out with relief as the nurse wheeled me into the hospital room. Peyton stood in place for a moment, then turned and left quickly. Early morning. Fireworks suddenly burst into bloom outside the window, illuminating the dark night. I was startled awake and instinctively grabbed my phone. The screen lit up-the first item was a post Carmen had just made. In the photo, Carmen held a snow-white dog, smiling with crescent eyes. Peyton stood beside her, tall and upright, looking exactly like a loving couple. The caption read: “Thank you to someone for watching fireworks with me. Even the little one got a birthday present!” My gaze fixed on the dog’s neck. Around it was tied a dark blue knitted scarf, with fine stitching, but it had been crudely cut short and fashioned into a dog collar. I suddenly remembered that three years ago, I’d stayed up for three nights to knit Peyton a scarf. When Peyton saw the dense needle marks on my hands, he flew back from abroad that very night and stood in the snow, kissing my fingertips with heartache. “Frost, I don’t want you to suffer even the slightest harm because of me. It hurts my heart.” Those words still echoed in my ears, but now-how ironic. All my harm came from him. Even that scarf I’d made had now been given to Carmen’s dog. Fireworks continued exploding outside the window. I turned off my phone and lay down, letting tears continuously soak the pillow. Peyton, this is the last time I’ll cry for you.

Jenna Frost POV I don’t know when I fell asleep. When I woke, Peyton was leaning against the hospital room door, his eyes gazing out the window. “Get up when you’re awake.” His tone was still cold. I frowned, collected myself, got out of bed, and followed in his footsteps. I don’t like car air fresheners-they make me carsick. In the past, before I got in the car, Peyton would always have someone remove all the interior accessories to ensure the car was completely scent-free. But now, this familiar Bentley was filled with a sickeningly sweet fragrance. Even the cross I’d sought from afar for him had been replaced with cartoon toys. Everything in the car had been replaced, including me. I couldn’t hold back-my nose stung. I quickly turned my head, directing my gaze out the window so Peyton wouldn’t notice. The car entered a private villa courtyard. Before it had fully stopped, I heard piercing screams from inside. “Let go of me! You psycho! Help!” It was Carmen’s voice. Peyton’s expression changed. He shoved the car door open and rushed inside. I followed close behind. Inside, Wade’s eyes were red as he pinned Carmen to the ground, his hands around her throat. Carmen’s lips were turning purple, her feet kicking wildly. “Wade!” I cried out. Almost simultaneously, Peyton strode forward and kicked Wade hard in the waist. Wade let out a muffled groan and collapsed to the side, unconscious. Carmen immediately threw herself into Peyton’s arms, sobbing hysterically. “He tried to kill me. I was so scared…” Peyton held her, barking orders. “Someone, tie him up and teach him a lesson!” At this, two bodyguards immediately stepped forward, grabbing Wade by the feet to drag him away. “No!” I rushed over trying to stop them, but Peyton grabbed me with one hand. Seeing Wade about to be dragged away, my eyes caught sight of a fruit knife on the table. I broke free from Peyton and grabbed it, pressing it to my own throat. “Let him go!” I gripped the knife tightly, my voice trembling. “Peyton, have your people release him, or today you’ll be collecting my corpse!” “Stop!” He shouted. “Jenna Frost.” Peyton’s voice tightened involuntarily, carrying a trace of panic. “Think carefully. You really want to threaten me with yourself?” I glanced at my unconscious brother, then met Peyton’s gaze. “I’ll say it one more time, Peyton. Let my brother go.” Peyton’s eyes grew increasingly cold. “Jenna Frost, I told you. I hate most when people threaten me using you.” Before I could react, Peyton suddenly stepped forward and kicked, breaking Wade’s leg. Wade’s agonized screams echoed throughout the living room. Cold sweat poured down my body, tears flooding from my eyes. “I’ll say it one more time. Put down that knife. Every second you delay, I’ll break another of his legs. And if you dare die, I’ll make him wish he were dead!” I didn’t dare move. I knew Peyton meant what he said. After a long standoff, I released the knife and fell to my knees, grabbing Peyton’s pant leg in supplication. “Peyton, please, spare my brother. Please.” Only then did Peyton raise his hand, signaling the bodyguards to release their hold. Wade went limp on the floor, temporarily safe. “Jenna, wouldn’t it have been better to do this from the start?” Peyton crouched down, reaching out to grip my chin, forcing me to look up. “I told you, once this period passes, I’ll release him. Why do you insist on opposing me?” “Apologize to Carmen. Now.” I raised my eyes to meet his gaze. Peyton abruptly released my chin and turned away. I looked at my brother’s condition, froze for a moment, then stood and bowed deeply to Carmen. “I’m sorry.”

Jenna Frost POV I kept saying I’m sorry, each repetition louder than the last, but Carmen showed no sign of forgiveness. “Jenna, he nearly strangled me to death. A simple apology won’t cut it.” I looked up. “What do you want?” “How about…” Carmen’s eyes shifted as she brought over a chair and sat in front of me. “How about you kneel and apologize to me? How’s that?” My hands clenched into fists. When I released them, my face showed no more struggle. In my heart, compared to Wade, dignity meant nothing. Just as my knees were about to touch the ground, Peyton suddenly reached out and grabbed my arm. Before either person present could react, Peyton lifted me in his arms and headed upstairs without a word. I didn’t understand what madness had seized him. I struggled continuously, but he threw me onto the bed. His tall figure blocked all the light before my eyes. Peyton pressed down on me without question, roughly tearing at my clothes, his breathing harsh. I fought back with all my strength, my nails scratching bloody marks on his arm. “Peyton! You bastard! Let go of me!” But the more I resisted, the angrier he became, his restraining force growing stronger. He reached out to touch the red mark on my neck, his eyes gradually turning bloodshot. I let out a muffled groan as his sudden bite hurt me, but that sound seemed to act as an aphrodisiac, making Peyton even more heated. His hand moved downward, but as he lifted slightly, I drove my knee hard into him. He instinctively rolled away, but in the next second, saw me running toward the window ledge. “Don’t! Jenna!” Peyton’s roar came from the window, carrying unprecedented panic. When I woke again, I was in the same hospital as before. I moved slightly. Intense pain immediately shot through my entire body, making me gasp. Peyton kept watch nearby, dark circles under his eyes. Seeing me wake, he immediately grabbed my hand, his voice hoarse. “You’re awake? Are you uncomfortable anywhere?” I closed my eyes, not wanting to see him. Peyton was about to say something when his phone suddenly rang. He glanced at it, his brow furrowing as he stood and left the room to take the call. The next second, Carmen pushed through the door. Looking at my miserable state, she laughed softly. “You didn’t even die falling from the fourth floor. You’re really lucky.” I opened my eyes, looking at her and smiling back. “Carmen, do you know why Peyton won’t divorce me?” Carmen rolled her eyes at me. “Isn’t it because you’re clinging to him like a ghost who won’t let go?” “You’re wrong.” I shook my head. “It’s because as long as he doesn’t divorce me, he gets the forty percent stake I hold. So as long as I’m alive, you’ll never be able to take my position.” “Yesterday he could have let me die, but he still saved me. Why do you think that is?” Carmen frowned, a flash of doubt crossing her eyes. I propped myself up into a sitting position. “Because he owes me his life-I saved him. If I die, he can’t explain it. As long as he doesn’t sign the divorce papers, I’ll forever be his legal wife. And you’re just a mistress.” Carmen’s face gradually turned ashen. Seeing this, I continued dangling the bait. “Help me get the divorce agreement, and I’ll transfer my shares to you. I’ll take my brother and leave forever. With those shares, not only can you marry Peyton immediately, you can become a company director. How about it?” Carmen’s eyes flickered, clearly tempted, but she wasn’t stupid. “Why should I trust you?” “You don’t have to.” I wasn’t anxious at all, closing my eyes. “We’ll just keep dragging this out. You can gamble on whether he’ll give up my shares to marry you first, or lose interest in you and come back to his family first.” Carmen fell silent. “Fine.” Carmen lowered her voice. “I’ll find a way to get my hands on the divorce agreement.” “I hope you keep your promise, or I’ll make you wish you were dead!” I opened my eyes, looking at her extended hand and grasping it. “Happy cooperation.”

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Scrolling through Ins, I found a post: “From Mind-Blowing to Trash, Rating the Men I Slept With This Year.” Thinking of that cold, distant man at home, I clicked on the post with curiosity. “Pure college boy, a bit clumsy, I’ll give him a passing grade” “Athletic black guy, oh wow, that was wild, definitely top-tier” The comment section exploded. “Now THIS is the kind of girl boss content I need” “Living your best life, let me live it for a couple days too.” I was about to leave a playful comment when the woman’s latest update made me freeze. “Last one. My best bed partner, also the one who gave me my sexual awakening. Even though he’s married, I’m giving him a straight-up ‘mind-blowing.’” The photo showed them lying together in bed. And the sleeping man in that photo was my husband. I stared at the screen in disbelief, but the comments that refreshed below made my blood run even colder. “Isn’t that knowingly being the other woman? That’s not cool.” “So what? Haven’t you heard that the one who isn’t loved is the real mistress? Besides, I had his first time.” “A man sleeping with two women at the same time… how good can he even be?” “That’s not true at all. He promised he’d only have sex with me, that he’d never waste it on that old hag at home.” Indeed, in our year of marriage, Xander Thorne was either working overtime or on business trips. The times he actually came home could be counted on one hand. Even on our wedding night, what should have happened didn’t-he used being drunk as an excuse and just fell asleep. I’d questioned myself countless times. Was I just too unattractive? Was that why Xander wouldn’t touch me? But before we got married, his love for me had been so passionate and intense. He’d hold me in bed, his voice hoarse. “Nora, I want to be with you so badly.” “Once we’re married, I can truly have you.” Remembering that past sweetness, I smiled bitterly. Now I finally understood. It wasn’t that I’d done anything wrong. It was that Xander had already found his bed partner. His only bed partner. The next second, Xander pushed the door open and pulled me into his arms. “Happy New Year. What are you looking at?” I quickly put down my phone and turned to meet his eyes. “Nothing, just browsing.” As I spoke, I thought of the words “mind-blowing” from the post and tentatively kissed his lips. The man froze for a moment, then chuckled softly, cupping my head and deepening the kiss. His heavy breathing hit my face. As things heated up, we unconsciously began pulling at each other’s clothes. He pushed me down onto the bed, and just when we were one step away, he stopped. His previously hazy eyes instantly cleared. Xander pushed me away, buttoning his shirt as if nothing had happened, his voice hoarse. “Alright, go help in the kitchen. It’s almost time for dinner.” Of course. It was like this again. I numbly got up and walked into the kitchen, laughing at myself. When my mother-in-law saw me, she immediately vented her dissatisfaction. “Nora, now that you’ve married into the Thorne family, you need to think about our family, don’t you?” “Look at your belly. It’s been a whole year, and still nothing.” “I’m not trying to push you. But you and Xander should have a baby while you’re young. It’ll be easier for you both when the child grows up.” Mrs. Thorne rambled on and on while my grievances surged up. Before marriage, I’d promised her we’d have two children in three years. But what happened? We could count on one hand the nights we’d even shared a bed. Thinking of how Xander had just walked away, my heart grew even heavier. Seeing my silence, Mrs. Thorne lost what little patience she’d had and stormed off. “People like you just have no manners. I must have lost my mind to let someone like you marry into the Thorne family.” I stared numbly at the mess before me and mechanically began cleaning up. Mrs. Thorne was right. Xander and I were from two different worlds. Without his love, I had nothing. I could never reach the heights of the Thorne family. Crack. Lost in thought, I cut my finger with the knife, leaving a streak of bright red. I immediately rinsed it under water, intending to go outside for a bandage. The noise outside gradually grew louder as the neighbor’s daughter arrived with gifts, smiling brightly. “Mrs. Thorne, Xander, Happy New Year! I brought gifts and came to join you for dinner.” I looked up and saw that familiar face. My heart lurched. She was the woman from the photo.

Mrs. Thorne chatted cheerfully with Jocelyn Lane about everyday matters, grinning ear to ear at the jewelry she’d brought. “Oh my, our Jocelyn is so thoughtful. I had my eye on this ruby necklace set just last month.” Xander sat nearby, bringing a peeled shrimp to Jocelyn’s lips. The woman took his finger into her mouth with a lingering gaze, then slowly swallowed the shrimp. Xander treated it as routine, his movements practiced, as if he’d done it a thousand times. Only when I sat beside him did he belatedly react. “Nora, let me introduce you. This is Jocelyn Lane, my childhood friend.” “Taking care of her has become a habit. Don’t mind it.” As he spoke, he peeled a shrimp apologetically and placed it in my plate. I forced a smile. He seemed to have forgotten that I’m allergic to shrimp. Mrs. Thorne saw this and began her passive-aggressive commentary. “Married a hen that won’t lay eggs. No real ability, but quite the temper. Should’ve married Jocelyn instead.” Xander remained silent, seemingly accepting her words. “Now, Mrs. Thorne, don’t say that. Xander and Nora are so in love. Having a baby is just a matter of time.” Jocelyn fanned the flames from the side, deliberately emphasizing “in love,” as if challenging me. My hand trembled, accidentally knocking my fork to the floor. As I bent down to pick them up, I glanced up and saw Jocelyn’s feet intimately resting between Xander’s legs in a suggestive position. Even though I already knew the truth, seeing this scene still felt like a knife twisting in my heart. I looked at Xander. The man’s earlobes were already flushed red… After dinner, Xander settled me in the room and volunteered to wash the dishes. I picked up my phone and, like a masochist, opened the post I’d been viewing earlier. Jocelyn had posted an update. “Came to Xander’s house for dinner, washing dishes together.” “These are the hands that made me feel absolutely incredible in bed.” Jocelyn had posted a picture of Xander washing dishes. Those hands were long and strong, with our diamond ring still on his ring finger. The hand fetishists in the comments went wild. “Beautiful fingers, I want to lick them.” “Using the ring, does that feel amazing?” Jocelyn quickly replied to that comment. “Good taste. Not just the ring, but lots of other toys too…” I suddenly felt dizzy, wanting to throw up. Once, I’d deliberately bought sexy lingerie and even used various props, hoping he’d show some interest. But that night, he’d looked at me coldly and thrown the blanket over me. “Sorry, Nora, I’m a rather traditional person.” “This… you’re being too slutty. I can’t accept it.” Those cold words still echoed in my ears. I’d thought I was too improper, consumed only by lust. Now I knew that Xander wasn’t without desire. He just directed all his desire toward another woman. Tears filled my eyes. Xander pushed the door open and, seeing me cry, held me with apparent concern. “Nora, I’m sorry. I let you down.” “The baby situation, that’s on me. I promise, just let me prepare a bit more.” “Next year, we’ll definitely have a child.” Seeing my silence, he handed me a glass of warm milk as usual. Whenever we fought before, he’d give me warm milk as a peace offering. He was confident I’d forgive him, so he turned and left. In fact, I’d always chosen to forgive him before. But today, I poured that entire glass of milk down the drain. Just like my past feelings, this time I was cutting everything off completely.

Late at night, Jocelyn tiptoed into my room and threw herself into Xander’s arms, acting coy. “Xander, you have no idea how hard I tried to hold myself tonight.” The man’s breathing gradually quickened. The sound of rustling fabric filled my ears. “Stop it, why are you in such a hurry? What if you wake up that old hag?” Xander pulled Jocelyn tightly into his arms and chuckled. “You little troublemaker, worrying about so much.” “Relax, I put double the sleeping pills in that milk. She won’t wake up.” “Besides, haven’t we done this several times before? Still not used to it, hmm?” My heart seized. So the “peace offering” milk I’d thought was simply a tool for their affair. No wonder Xander’s body always bore ambiguous marks. I’d assumed I’d left them while I was asleep. The sounds beside me grew louder. The two quickly began kissing. “Xander, you’re being naughty.” “I saw today that Nora’s lips were quite swollen. Did you secretly do it with her?” Xander didn’t answer, only thrust harder. He proved with his body whether or not he’d done anything with me. Under Xander’s vigorous movements, Jocelyn quickly cried out, and then they climaxed together. “Xander, what if that old hag keeps pestering you for a baby?” “You wouldn’t betray me someday, would you?” The man fell silent for a long time. Just when I thought he’d fallen asleep, he suddenly answered. “Then… we’ll blindfold her and swap in someone else.” “When the time comes, I’ll treat his child as my own. Consider it… compensation for her.” Hearing Xander’s words, I bit my jaw hard to keep from making a sound. So in his heart, there was only Jocelyn. He’d even rather have his wife under another man than give up serving Jocelyn with single-minded devotion. I dug my nails into my arm, refusing to let tears fall. “Xander, actually, I’m pregnant.” Jocelyn’s words struck like thunder in my heart. Xander immediately stiffened, his voice trembling. “Then what we just did…” “It’s fine, I’m already three months along. I checked-after three months it’s safe.” Ha. Three months. Three months ago, the only time Xander had the opportunity to cheat was on our wedding anniversary. I was lying in bed, my period making me collapse in pain. Xander heated me a glass of milk and kept warming my belly with his hands. That night, I slept deeply, peacefully, happily. But apparently, I wasn’t the only one who was happy. The sun slowly rose, and Jocelyn finally left the room. Xander gently kissed my forehead, then held me and fell peacefully asleep. A single tear slid down my cheek.

The next day, Jocelyn greeted me with a radiant face after getting up. Her expression showed the bliss of being thoroughly satisfied. I ignored her, silently calculating how to maximize my benefits in a divorce. But Jocelyn blocked my path directly, pouring herself a full glass of wine. “Sister-in-law, I forgot to toast you yesterday. Today, I’ll toast you.” She was about to drink it in one gulp. I stood coldly to the side, wanting to see what kind of drama she’d create. Sure enough, the next second, Xander snatched the glass from her hand. “Jocelyn, what are you doing!” Jocelyn remained unharmed, but the wine splashed all over my face. Her eyes reddened as she buried herself in Xander’s arms with a trembling voice. “Xander, Nora said… said I was dressing like this to seduce you, and that I was disrespecting her, that I should have toasted her yesterday…” The woman’s body was soft. Her words made Xander’s bones go weak. “Nora, am I giving you too much face?” “You married into the Thorne family and actually think you’re something? You even dare to scold Jocelyn?” “Let me tell you, Jocelyn will always be my sister, but you?” “Without me, you’re nothing.” I looked at the furious man before me, my heart filled with sorrow. Yes, from childhood, I’d received financial support from the Thorne family. My father cheated and drank, saw me as a money pit, wanted to marry me off quickly for bride price money. So from an early age, I’d longed for a happy family, wanted to have my own child, build my own home. Through excellent academic performance, I was selected by the Thorne family to become their sponsored student. After years of hard study, I finally escaped my original family and became independent. That’s when Xander confessed his feelings to me. He pursued me for five years, using his patience to tell me bit by bit that he’d take good care of me, build a happy family with me. He also swore he’d always love me, that our children would be extremely happy. Now it seemed like such a desolate, ridiculous scam. He used minimal warmth to weave lies called happiness. And personally stripped away my freedom to have children. “Xander, my stomach hurts so much.” Jocelyn suddenly screamed, clutching her abdomen in pain. Xander immediately picked up Jocelyn and rushed out the door. After a long while, Xander called me. “Bring your marriage certificate and come to the hospital immediately.”

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After my sister Mary and I were adopted, our adoptive parents gave us a test. They each gave us ten thousand dollars in spending money. Mary couldn’t bear to spend a single cent and returned it all. But I pocketed all the money and blew through it in one night. From then on, I was labeled a gold digger. “You don’t deserve to be our child. Get back to where you belong!” I was thrown out of the house and died in an accident while working odd jobs. It wasn’t until the orphanage director realized he couldn’t reach me and hurriedly came to explain: “Georgina used all that money to pay for my medical treatment!” After hearing the director’s words, my adoptive parents froze in place with no reaction. It took them a long while to come to their senses, and they laughed dismissively: “Quite the performance, working together like that.” “Even in death, she can’t rest in peace. Still trying to deceive us?” My adoptive mother, Lauren, couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “That child is deeply scheming. Ten thousand dollars—she spent it just like that. Now she’s found some old man to make up stories, thinking we’ll fall for it?” The director was at a loss, his eyes red-rimmed as he explained: “Georgina isn’t that kind of child. At the orphanage, she never fought with anyone over anything. Whatever good things she had, she always gave to Mary first.” “She was so frugal. She’d use her pencils until she could barely hold them before she’d throw them away…” “Shut up!” Lauren irritably cut him off. She didn’t want to hear any more of this nonsense. She strode into the living room and came out carrying a garbage bag. “You’re just in time to take the clothes she didn’t get to take with her and throw them out. Having them in the house is bad luck!” The garbage bag couldn’t handle the weight and tore open with a big gash. The clothes inside spilled all over the floor, dirty and patched. The director opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but in the end only let out a deep sigh. He realized that no matter what he explained, they wouldn’t believe it. He could only gather up my old clothes and stagger toward the elevator. My soul floated in the air, watching everything in silence. Tears silently streamed down my face. Although I had known all along that they showed undisguised care and favoritism toward Mary. But until this moment, feeling so directly that they didn’t even care that I was missing, that they misunderstood me so deeply. I still couldn’t control the pain in my heart. Only then did Mary unhurriedly step forward, taking Lauren’s arm: “Don’t be too upset. The director is probably just so grief-stricken that he’s talking nonsense.” “Maybe Georgina really did have her reasons. I just hope she’s okay.” Lauren affectionately stroked her hair: “It’s all right, Mary. Don’t think about it anymore. She’s just bad by nature. We won’t think about her anymore.” “From now on, you’re our only child.” “Okay!” Mary’s lips curved up as she nodded triumphantly. The adoptive parents took her hand and went to eat. The table was covered with dishes she loved. Mary contentedly enjoyed her parents’ doting, glancing toward my empty room. “What a shame,” she said thoughtfully. “One test ended up dragging out so many things and even hurt Georgina…”

Mary and I were abandoned in a hospital bathroom right after birth, placed in an old cardboard box. A kind-hearted janitor found us and took us to the nearest orphanage. We depended on each other to survive, and I did everything I could to take care of Mary. Whatever good food or new clothes came our way, I gave them all to her. When other kids bullied us, I always rushed to the front, getting beaten black and blue without making a sound. Mary relied on me completely, always following behind me, sweetly calling me “sister.” Back then, I thought that even though we didn’t have parents, we had each other and the director. That was enough. My biggest wish was to grow up quickly and earn money. To give the director a good life and buy Mary lots of pretty dresses. Until we were fifteen, when we met our adoptive parents. Lauren was frail and sickly, unable to have children, and wanted to adopt one. They looked around the orphanage for a long time before their eyes finally landed on Mary and me. The director was overjoyed and pulled us aside, holding our hands: “You’re going to have a new home. You must be obedient and well-behaved from now on!” Mary and I were both nervous but full of anticipation. This was the home with a mom and dad that we had longed for. The adoptive parents took us out for a meal, bought us new clothes, and asked about our life at the orphanage. But I could sense they liked Mary a bit more. Mary was sweet-tongued and knew how to act cute, while I was reserved and could only clumsily say “thank you.” Not long after bringing us home, the adoptive parents each gave Mary and me a thick envelope. “There’s ten thousand dollars inside.” “You can spend it however you want, but you must tell us how you used it.” Ten thousand dollars was an astronomical sum to me. It was an amount the director would have to work hard for a long time to save up. I clutched that heavy envelope, my palms sweating. On the way back to the orphanage after leaving their house, Mary excitedly planned what she would buy. “I’m going to buy gifts for Mom and Dad, then save the rest and return it to them!” “That way they’ll know I don’t want to live with them just for the money!” I nodded, but my heart was in turmoil. Because just the day before, the director had collapsed again. I rushed to get him to the hospital, and the doctor told me with a grave expression: “Your director’s condition can’t be delayed any longer.” “His heart is severely damaged. He must have surgery as soon as possible. The cost will be about a hundred thousand dollars.” My mind went completely blank. The orphanage usually had to rely on charitable donations to get by. Where would we find that much money? After the director woke up, he gripped my hand and said: “Georgina, don’t listen to the doctor. This is just my old ailment. I don’t need surgery.” His smile was forced, his face deathly pale. I looked at the ten thousand dollars in my hand, silently watching the director. A desperate idea emerged. I knew it was wrong. This money wasn’t mine, and I knew it was all a test. But… the director’s life couldn’t wait. I couldn’t worry about all that anymore. I would work hard in the future and pay the adoptive parents back. “Georgina, have you decided how to use it?” Mary asked me. “I… haven’t decided yet,” I said, trembling. Back at the orphanage, I shut myself in my room. That ten thousand dollars felt like fire burning my palm. Early the next morning, while Mary was still asleep, I rushed to the hospital with the money. The staff counted the money and issued a receipt. Holding that thin piece of paper, my tense nerves finally relaxed. I waited outside the director’s hospital room, watching as he was wheeled into the operating room. The red light reflected on my face, and I suddenly remembered—I needed to go back to the White family’s house. It was time to report the test results. I dragged my heavy feet, rehearsing explanations in my mind countless times. Thinking about how to apologize, how to promise I’d pay the money back. As soon as I pushed open the front door, I saw my adoptive parents sitting on the sofa. Staring at me with unkind expressions. “You’re back?” My adoptive father Andrew’s voice carried a chill. “Where’s the money? How did you spend it? Let’s hear it.” I stood still, my entire body left with only a hospital payment slip. I had crumpled it into a ball, clutching it tightly in my sweaty palm. “I spent it all,” I said, lowering my head, not daring to look them in the eye. “What did you spend it on?!” Andrew roared in disbelief. My lips trembled as I struggled to form coherent words. I didn’t dare tell the truth. I was afraid they’d make me get the money back. “I just spent it,” I stammered, trying to explain. Just then, Mary, who had been sitting quietly, suddenly spoke up. “Mom, Dad, don’t be angry,” she said slowly. “I think I know where Georgina’s money went.”

The living room fell silent. Lauren took a deep breath and softened her tone: “Mary, what did you see? Don’t be afraid. Tell me.” Mary hesitated for a long time before finally speaking: “Yesterday afternoon, I saw Georgina go to the mall carrying an LV bag.” Andrew’s expression darkened instantly. I didn’t understand why Mary would say such a thing and hastily denied it: “I didn’t!” Mary pretended to look troubled as she continued: “Stop lying. You didn’t just buy a bag—you also went to an upscale restaurant. One meal there costs over a thousand dollars!” She pulled out her phone and showed it to the adoptive parents. “Look, my friend took this photo. It’s a bit blurry, but you can tell it’s Georgina.” The moment I saw the photo, I felt all the blood in my body turn cold. The “me” in the photo was actually sitting in an upscale restaurant eating. On the table sat elegant dishes and steak. I rushed over, wanting to see the photo clearly: “That’s not me! Yesterday I…” “Enough!” Andrew roared, slamming the phone down hard on the table. “Georgina, the evidence is right here. What else do you have to say?” He pointed at me and cursed: “You took that ten thousand dollars to buy luxury goods and treat people to expensive meals! Do you think we’re idiots?” “This is your true character! Greedy, vain, and a pathological liar!” “It’s not like that…” I shook my head grievously, tears flowing uncontrollably. I looked at Mary. She met my gaze and actually smiled thoughtfully. In that moment, it was like a bucket of ice water had been poured over my head. A disturbing suspicion suddenly formed in my heart. “You won’t admit it, will you?” Lauren trembled with rage. “Fine! I’ll see where you hid everything!” They rushed into my room. I stood frozen in place, chilled to the bone, listening to the sounds of them ransacking the room. Before long, Lauren emerged holding an LV shopping bag. “Tell me what this is!” She shrieked, violently throwing the bag on the floor. I stared blankly at the unfamiliar bag on the ground, my mind completely blank. “That’s not mine…” I murmured. “Not yours? Did it grow legs and walk into your closet by itself?” Andrew laughed bitterly in his fury. “It was at the very bottom of your clothing drawer, covered with clothes!” “Georgina, you’ve really opened my eyes!” I looked at Mary in disbelief. Belatedly realizing that she had done all of this. My heart felt like a knife had been plunged into it, twisting viciously, leaving the wound mangled and bloody. “You put it there… didn’t you?” I asked Mary, trembling. Mary’s eyes immediately reddened, and she looked at the adoptive parents with an aggrieved expression. “How can you say that about me? I tried to help you, and you’re accusing me…” “Georgina!” Lauren completely exploded. She rushed up to me and slapped me across the face. My cheek burned with pain, my ears ringing. I covered my face, utterly heartbroken. “Get out!” Lauren pointed at the door, her voice full of disgust: “Take your filthy things and get out of my house! From now on, we only recognize Mary as our child!” I staggered as they shoved me toward the door. The door slammed shut. I had been completely abandoned by them.

I had nowhere to go and could only return to the orphanage. The director had already completed his surgery and was still unconscious. I sat by his bedside, holding his aged hand and crying my heart out. I knew I couldn’t stop. I didn’t have time to grieve. Follow-up treatment and recovery all required money. I rented a cheap basement partition and started desperately looking for work. But I had such little education and wasn’t even an adult yet. No legitimate place would hire me. I could only do odd jobs—washing dishes, handing out flyers, helping vendors clean up. I earned very little, nowhere near enough to fill the hospital’s bottomless pit. The overdue payment notices piled up one after another. The director’s condition also kept fluctuating. At my wit’s end, I saw a job advertisement: [High-altitude glass cleaning, daily pay, $2000-3000 per day.] I was tempted. I knew it was dangerous, but I had no choice. The contact person hesitated when he saw how small and thin I was. But I begged him, saying I desperately needed money and could do anything. He finally agreed, gave me an old safety harness, briefly explained a few things, and brought me to the construction site. I was suspended dozens of meters in the air, tightly gripping a brush and bucket. Bit by bit, I wiped the massive glass windows. At first, I was so scared my whole body trembled. But thinking of the director lying in the hospital bed, I gritted my teeth and endured. The first day passed safely. After getting paid, I felt for the first time that life had a glimmer of hope. I went back the second day. Just as I was almost finished cleaning the top floor windows, thinking about how I could get paid today and buy some good medicine for the director— I suddenly heard a faint cracking sound from overhead. Before I could look up— The next second, the safety rope tied around my waist snapped without warning! I fell. The wind howled, whipping my hair upward. Glass, steel beams, sky… Everything became hazy, rapidly receding upward. Time moved both slowly and quickly. I thought of the director’s warm hands. I thought of the drafty windows at the orphanage in winter. I thought of Mary following behind me when we were little, saying she wanted to be with me forever. “BANG—” After the tremendous sound of impact came boundless silence. My soul floated free. I saw the crowd gathering below, heard terrified screams and shouts. These events from the recent past already felt like they happened in a previous life. I was finally free. I no longer had to fear being hated by others or live alone in loneliness. Until this moment, the only one I couldn’t let go of was the director. Lauren watched the director stumble away, then sat in her chair for a long time without speaking. Her complexion was terrible, inexplicably anxious. Andrew also frowned and walked to the window to smoke a cigarette. “Where did she run off to? She won’t get into trouble, will she?” Lauren sighed, her voice irritated. The next moment, her phone suddenly rang. The caller ID showed my name. Lauren’s tense body instantly relaxed. She quickly answered: “You finally know to call back? And you got the director to put on this act with you?” “Such deep scheming! I’m warning you to stop playing these games with me!” She was about to say more when a voice from the other end interrupted her. It wasn’t my voice. It was a man’s voice. “Hello, this is the police department. Are you Georgina’s family?” “She had an accident at work and fell from a height. She died on impact.” “Please come identify the body as soon as possible.”

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These past few years, Pierce has performed plastic surgery on me many times. Every single time, I went willingly. I believed he was trying to help me escape my ex-fiancé’s pursuit through these procedures. He loved me. Until I saw a photo of the woman he loved most during her lifetime. Because I looked just like her. Once again stood up at City Hall. This was the fifth time Pierce had run from our wedding. I had a sinking feeling that marrying Pierce in this lifetime would be impossible. That evening, I found him at the club owned by his friend Steven. “I’m seriously done with you. How many times have you run now?” “Isn’t Lester going to want to kill you?” Steven snatched the drink from Pierce’s hand. The door stood slightly ajar. I didn’t have the courage to push it open. Pierce had drunk himself into a stupor. But the words that came out of his mouth felt like a sharp blade. Stabbing straight into my heart. “I really can’t deceive myself anymore. She’s not Juliet.” “Even though she looks more and more like her. That expression, those eyes.” “I don’t love her. I’m very clear about this—I love Juliet.” I didn’t know Juliet personally, but I knew of her. She was Pierce’s white moonlight—his first love. She had died in a car accident several years ago. Three years together, and I thought I could warm his heart. But today, his absence again made me wake up from the dream. Perhaps I had never truly entered Pierce’s heart. And I had never really understood this man. In the dimly lit private room, Pierce’s suppressed voice came through again. Carrying pain and a torn, sobbing quality. “All these years, I’ve sculpted her to look more and more like Juliet, but I really can’t deceive myself. They’re fundamentally two different people.” Steven seemed to sigh, saying Pierce was becoming more and more obsessed. “She’s still not similar enough. Juliet’s waist was so slender you could encircle it with one hand, but Lester’s waist isn’t delicate enough yet.” Steven said, “You’re not going to coax her into another surgery, are you? Don’t you care if she lives or dies?” Pierce laughed coldly. “Believe it or not, with just one word from me, she’d give me her life. What’s removing a few ribs compared to that?” “Stop with the surgeries. Someone’s going to die.” Steven tried to persuade him. “And aren’t you afraid that one day when she learns the truth, she’ll leave you?” Pierce’s tone was contemptuous. “Would she dare? Everything she has now is because of me. Without me, could she even survive?” My heart plummeted, my mind went blank, and my entire body trembled. So all these years, I’d been living in Pierce’s lies. He had once told me that by changing my appearance, I could escape the misfortune that person had brought me. Pierce was a highly skilled plastic surgeon. Over these years, he had performed many surgeries on me, both major and minor. Watching myself become increasingly unfamiliar in the mirror, I had once felt as though I’d been reborn. But now, I finally understood. These three years, he had simply been sculpting me into the work of art he desired. I was nothing more than a substitute. Pierce had a woman he deeply loved named Juliet. She had died in a car accident during the year he loved her most. Pierce had nearly lost his own life because of it. He said he’d tried everything, but in the end could only watch helplessly as his beloved died in his arms. He had been depressed for a long time after that. Dragging my exhausted body, I returned to our “home.” Over three years, every corner of this place bore traces of my life here. But today, I truly wanted to leave. If I couldn’t get closer to him, then I should distance myself. My mind was in chaos. For the first time, I felt utterly lost about life. When I met Pierce, I thought I could live well for the rest of my life. But why had things turned out this way? I loved him so much, believed he was my redemption. He was the one who helped me escape that nightmare of a past. Yes, during the time when Pierce was depressed after Juliet’s death, we met. I encountered Pierce at the most desperate moment of my life. Meeting him was like a drowning person grasping a lifeline. That day, I was being frantically chased and attacked by my ex-fiancé, who seemed to be having a violent episode. In my panic, I stumbled into an unfamiliar garden where I ran into Pierce. He saved me and brought me back to his home. The warm lights in his house and a bowl of hot noodles completely soothed my terror. So I told him about my ordeal. I had once had a sweet romance too. With an excellent fiancé from a privileged background. But at some point, my fiancé changed. He became easily irritated and angry. Then he started hitting me.

“It’s all because of you. Everything is because of you.” He would scream madly while beating me. I didn’t know what I had done to make him this way. No matter how much I asked, he never gave me a reason. Every few days he would have another episode, beating me black and blue. Even when I called the police, they treated it as a domestic matter and didn’t want to get involved. Besides, his family had power and connections. Even if he was taken in, he’d be out quickly. After each beating, he would kneel and repent. But then he’d do it all over again. I tried many times to take him to see a psychiatrist, but he strongly resisted. Watching him become more unhinged day by day, I couldn’t take it anymore and chose to run. But he found me every single time. Each time he found me, another even more frenzied beating and abuse would follow. Later, he became increasingly crazy, even imprisoning me and forbidding me from contacting the outside world. I broke down. Several times I even thought about death. I begged him to let me go. He said, “You can never leave me. I became this way because of you. We’re locked together for life.” My ex-fiancé Chris said I could never escape him in this lifetime. I had no parents, no family, no one. I had nowhere to turn for help. After that encounter, I stayed at Pierce’s house. Every day I helped him with household chores and such. Pierce said I was so talented, I shouldn’t just stay at home all day. I should shine in my professional field. But if I went out to work, Chris would find me quickly. I didn’t dare imagine what would happen then. So Pierce suggested I get plastic surgery. I was persuaded by his bold idea. Because I wasn’t willing to just live under Chris’s shadow like this. As long as I became another person, Chris wouldn’t be able to find me. Then I could live a normal life. I thought about it for a few days and agreed to Pierce’s plan. After recovering from the first surgery, the way Pierce looked at me changed. I remember when the last bandage was removed from my face, Pierce hugged me tightly. He said excitedly that the surgery was very successful. Looking at the face in the mirror that had changed so dramatically, I secretly breathed a sigh of relief. I thought I could finally escape from Chris. I was so happy that I overlooked his bloodshot eyes and the tears pooling in them. Later, he told me it was the most successful surgery he’d ever performed—absolutely perfect. Now I knew that the “perfection” he spoke of contained the dark “wish” deep in his heart. A few days after the first surgery, Pierce confessed his feelings to me. He said I was an angel sent by heaven to save him. Because of me, he had rediscovered the courage and confidence to live. Because of Chris, I wasn’t ready to immediately enter another relationship. So I didn’t agree right away. But he wasn’t in a hurry. Slowly, he moved me with his actions and sincerity. He was someone who paid great attention to detail and creating special moments. He was good-looking, gentlemanly, and romantic. Eventually, I fell for him. Pierce said his angel should be the most perfect woman in the world. He wanted to make me the most beautiful bride. So he performed several more surgeries on me.

The first few times, I agreed easily. Because I still harbored fear of Chris. Only by becoming another person could I feel safe. And only Pierce’s scalpel could accomplish that. But later, during a procedure to implant facial prosthetics, whether due to improper operation or something else. After the surgery, I developed an infection and nearly died on the operating table. I remember they worked to save me for a day and a night before I was out of danger. After that, I developed a kind of post-traumatic fear response to plastic surgery. I was no longer enthusiastic about it—in fact, I became quite resistant. But each time, he desperately persuaded me. I knew his behavior was pathological, but I loved him too much. I couldn’t bear to refuse him, so time after time I obediently lay down on the operating table. I became less and less like my original self. Every time a surgery was completed, the way he looked at me was so bright. Now I had finally found the answer. The reason why he was so obsessed with performing surgery on me. I was nothing more than a substitute for his white moonlight. A substitute who resembled his white moonlight. Only now did I realize belatedly why his gaze at me was always so strange. As if he was looking through me, seeing someone else. I opened the door to Pierce’s usually locked study. Never before had I felt such urgency to know what Juliet actually looked like. I had known about her existence before. But I had never allowed myself to compare with a dead woman. After searching the room, I found a hidden compartment behind the bookshelf. Opening it, I found a photo album and a thick notebook inside. The moment I opened the album, my heart was pounding. As if I was about to unveil a world mystery. Two faces so similar, similar enough to make me feel suffocated. The same eyes, the same contours, even the small dimple on the left corner of the mouth. I didn’t know what kind of mentality drove Pierce to sculpt my face into Juliet’s likeness. My body felt cold, frozen stiff. I couldn’t help but touch my own face. For the first time, resembling another person filled me with terror. Once again I felt the same panic as when I was fleeing from Chris’s pursuit. So frantic, and so desperate. Driven by curiosity, I opened the notebook. It recorded Pierce’s life and emotional state since Juliet’s death. I knew there must be records about me. Soon enough, I found them. “I met a woman. Her arrival seems to have added a bit of light to my life. But I know she’s not you, so I’m gradually transforming her to look like you.” “Today, I gave her the same double eyelids as yours.” “I gave her the same dimples as you. When she smiles, it’s like seeing you before me.” Like some kind of self-torture, I flipped through page after page. With each entry I read, I felt my heart being trampled by thousands of horses, being cut to pieces. Very late, Pierce finally came home. By then I had already washed up and was lying in bed. A few hours had been enough for me to calm myself. Pierce first apologized, explaining that there was a sudden emergency at the hospital, so he couldn’t go with me to get our marriage license. He promised that next time, this definitely wouldn’t happen again. So many promises now that even his excuses came smoothly. “Honey, I really messed up. There won’t be a next time.” I smiled and said it was okay, work came first. I didn’t think there would be a next time anyway.

He looked at me with surprise, as if shocked by my calm reaction. Because the previous times, I had been angry with him for quite a while. He held me, saying many things to comfort me. I leaned quietly in his arms. Appearing to listen carefully, but inside my emotions were all mixed up. I was even trembling with fear. Pierce cupped my face and asked with concern what was wrong. I said, “I’m afraid we won’t be able to be together in the future.” Pierce kissed me and reassured me it wouldn’t happen. We held each other and talked for a long time. I held back from pushing him away. He loved Juliet so much, yet here he was with me, performing this pretense of affection. I suddenly felt this person was so strange. He gently stroked my waist. I thought of his conversation with Steven and couldn’t help but get goosebumps all over. I was waiting for what he would say next. Like waiting for his verdict, to let myself give up completely again. Sure enough, he finally spoke. “Honey, you studied dance performance. A perfect waistline can showcase the charm of your dancing. I think these few ribs of yours are too prominent—they expose a flaw in your figure.” My heart felt like it had been slashed open, bleeding profusely. I said, “But I think I’m fine the way I am.” I spoke hesitantly, wanting him to see my unwillingness. But his eyes flashed with an inexplicable excitement. He hadn’t listened to me at all. “Trust me, it’s just a few cuts. Trust my skills. I guarantee I’ll make you graceful and incomparably beautiful.” My heart turned to ash as I looked at him with hollow eyes. He was still gesturing at my waist, as if preparing to cut into a metal object. He kept muttering various terms, but my heart grew colder and colder. He had never loved me. My existence was merely a comfort for his soul. Or rather, I was his work, an object to commemorate the person who died. No life, no soul. Who would care about the feelings of an empty shell? “Will I die?” I couldn’t help but ask. “Nonsense. I’m a doctor. Are you questioning my medical skills?” I smiled bitterly inside. Every time he told me his medical skills were excellent, how beautiful I would be after surgery. But not once did he tell me how risky the surgery was, what the failure rate might be. And I had never questioned him. For the first time, I felt pathetic. Today, I didn’t want to continue being so foolish. “Pierce, I don’t want any more surgeries. Is that okay?” Pierce’s expression seemed to change, but quickly became gentle again. “What’s wrong? In a bad mood?” I said, “I think I’m fine as I am. I don’t see the need for more surgery.” Pierce’s face was no longer gentle. “Lester, you’re becoming disobedient.” I looked exhausted. “Pierce, I’m really tired. I don’t want to keep doing this.” Pierce thought my refusal this time was because of his running from the wedding again today. So he promised me that he would definitely marry me in this lifetime. Besides me, he wouldn’t marry anyone else. I pushed him away, saying that wasn’t the reason. I said I just wanted to live a normal life, didn’t want to keep messing with this face and this body anymore. That night neither of us could convince the other. In the end we both stuck to our positions until we fell into exhausted sleep. The next day Pierce drove me to work. In the car, I could see Pierce was in a very bad mood. If it were before, I would have asked him with concern what was wrong. But now, I didn’t want to be considerate anymore. Seeing that I hadn’t acknowledged him for a while, he finally couldn’t help but speak.

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After I went abroad, I heard that every lover Bradley found resembled me. When people mentioned me, his friends would say, “As long as Bradley’s first love Elliott is willing to return home, no other woman stands a chance.” Until Bradley found a newly debuted starlet who didn’t resemble me in the slightest. Yet she was the first girlfriend he ever publicly acknowledged. That year, I hurried back home. Everyone waited to watch me regret my choices and beg Bradley desperately. Even Bradley hinted at me indirectly, “Elliott, your timing for coming back isn’t great.” But they didn’t know I wasn’t here to fight for Bradley. I came back to get married. Walking out of the airport, I spotted Bradley in the crowd immediately. He wore a coat, his features more mature than when I’d left years ago. But the expression on his face was far too complex. “They said you were coming back. I thought it was fake news.” I stopped with my suitcase, responding coolly, “Just back to handle some things.” Bradley took the suitcase from my hands. “Your father asked me to pick you up. Don’t misunderstand.” I nodded and followed him to the underground parking garage. On the way, I checked my phone. The group chat that had been silent for ages had exploded. 【Did Bradley really go pick up Elliott? Is it true? Elliott’s back?】 【What about Bradley’s current girlfriend, that starlet named Wilkinson? Did he dump her?】 【Do you even need to ask? And why do you think Elliott suddenly came back? Obviously to steal him back!】 【Wilkinson’s nothing. At most she’s just Bradley’s novelty. Now that Elliott’s back, I’ll eat my words if that starlet gets so much as a glance from him.】 【I’ve met Wilkinson. Don’t underestimate her. Anyone who can lock down Bradley is ruthless.】 Bradley noticed my constantly vibrating phone too. He glanced at the messages and said to me, “Elliott, your timing really isn’t great. I already have a girlfriend.” My hand froze on the passenger door handle. I opened the back door instead. Only two words left my mouth: “Congratulations.” Bradley slammed his door particularly hard. That’s when I realized—after all these years, he’d learned to smoke. The Bradley of the past had been so disciplined. No smoking, no drinking, no wild nights. But in the years I’d been abroad, I’d heard about at least a dozen of his flings. Bradley’s phone rang. A sweet, cloying female voice came through. “Bradley, I’m exhausted on set. Can you come pick me up?” “Send me the address.” “Love you.” Bradley hung up and smiled at me. “You don’t mind if I make a detour to pick up my girlfriend, do you?” “Of course not.” I should never have gotten in his car. Bradley parked near the film set. In the bustling crowd, I spotted Wilkinson immediately. She was too striking. Even bundled up completely, people could recognize her at a glance. Fans were taking photos along the way. Wilkinson pulled down her mask slightly, smiling brilliantly. “Thank you. My boyfriend’s a civilian—could you guys please not photograph him?” The fans jeered, “We heard your boyfriend is Bradley. Is it true?” Wilkinson didn’t deny it, just put her index finger to her lips in a shushing gesture. After she got in the car, she took off her sunglasses and kissed Bradley’s cheek. “Bradley, have you been waiting long?” Her eyes shifted to me. “And you are?” I smiled politely. “Hello, nice to meet you. I’m Elliott, a friend of Bradley’s.” Wilkinson’s smile deepened. “Elliott, I hear people mention you all the time.” Bradley naturally fastened her seatbelt for her. “Sit tight, I’m about to drive.” Wilkinson said coquettishly, “Look at me, always forgetting. You have to do it for me every time.” I turned my gaze to the window, not watching their affection. The car hadn’t been driving long when Wilkinson initiated conversation. “Elliott, in all these years abroad, did you ever have a boyfriend?” I answered frankly, “I did.” “See, I knew it. Elliott, you’re as beautiful as a celebrity. You’ve never lacked admirers, right? “Like Bradley—he was the one who pursued me. His friends all say I’m different to Bradley, that I’m someone he especially favors. “I just don’t understand—do they mean Bradley has some first love? I heard you and Bradley grew up together. You must know who his first love is. Tell me?” She looked at me, her eyes more scrutinizing than curious. Bradley frowned. “I don’t have any first love. They’re just joking around.” Wilkinson pouted and unhappily started playing with her phone. The rest of the ride was silent. When Bradley dropped me off at home, he didn’t even get out of the car. He rolled down his window and said casually, “My girlfriend’s upset. I need to placate her. I won’t go in. Say hi to your parents for me.” I was about to leave when Wilkinson suddenly called out to me. “Elliott, let’s add each other on social media.” She added, “You add me, so you don’t end up not accepting my request.”

My friends threw a small welcome-back party for me. No one expected Bradley to bring Wilkinson. Wilkinson had carefully prepared gifts for everyone, especially me. “I heard Bradley treats Elliott like family. When Bradley and I get married, Elliott, remember to be my bridesmaid.” Several friends changed expressions, saying to Bradley, “Bradley, aren’t you going to handle this?” Bradley laughed. “You want me to go home and fight with her?” Wilkinson covered her mouth shyly. She suggested playing Truth or Dare. The bottle landed right on me. Everyone eagerly tried to ask, but Wilkinson stopped them. “Everyone step aside! Let Bradley ask first.” Bradley took a drink and looked at me. “Did you get a boyfriend abroad?” I nodded. “Yes.” Quite a few people gasped. Bradley had a friend named Jack who teased me, “Elliott’s joking. If she’s lying, she drinks as penalty. I’ll drink for Elliott.” Next round, when Bradley spun the bottle, it landed on me again. He asked, “What’s your boyfriend’s name?” I answered, “Not convenient to say.” Wilkinson laughed loudly. “Elliott, good thing you’re not an actress. Your acting is pretty terrible. Men are too dense to notice, but we’re both women—I can tell when you’re lying right away~” Bradley’s past lovers never dared speak like this. But the one sitting beside him now was Wilkinson, the only girlfriend he’d ever acknowledged. Bradley’s silence indicated approval. I swept my hair back and smiled. “The kind of affected pretension Miss Wilkinson does, I truly can’t manage.” Wilkinson’s smile froze on her face. I prided myself on having a good temper, but a sharp tongue. This was something Bradley apparently hadn’t gotten around to telling Wilkinson. Still, her psychological resilience was strong. She quickly smiled again and poured me a drink. “Fair’s fair. If you can’t answer, you have to drink. Please.” “Fine.” I downed the drink readily. The bottle in Bradley’s hands seemed magical—next round, it landed on me again. He asked almost without thinking, “Why did you come back this time?” I gave up answering that question. Bradley saw through my intention and pressed his hand on the bottle. “What are you back for?” His fingertips were white from gripping so hard. I answered reluctantly, “To get married.” Actually, saying it didn’t matter much—I’d have to invite friends to the wedding eventually anyway. Everyone burst into laughter. “Haven’t seen you in years, didn’t expect Elliott’s methods of fooling people to get more childish.” “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.” “Elliott, you’re getting worse at lying.” I looked at Wilkinson. “So sorry, I can’t be your bridesmaid, because my wedding is early next month.” She asked curiously, “Is it that boyfriend you dated abroad? Elliott, just tell us. We’re not going to look down on him, are we?” I didn’t need to explain to her, just said coolly, “He’s excellent, but I can’t reveal his identity.” Bradley suddenly pulled Wilkinson up. “Wilkinson, your acting is much better than Elliott’s. I can’t watch this charade anymore. Let’s go.” Jack grabbed him, whispering in his ear, “Don’t, Bradley. If you miss this chance, when will you get another—” Bradley shook off his hand. “When did I ever wait for her? These years I’ve played with plenty of women. Every single one was better than Elliott.” Jack’s unspoken words were forcefully cut off. I met Bradley’s gaze. His eyes were trembling. I stood there, feeling like all the blood in my body had turned ice cold. “Bradley, aren’t you disgusted with yourself?” He licked the corner of his mouth with a mocking smile. “Don’t need you to worry about it.”

After the party ended, Jack couldn’t help asking me, “Elliott, is this marriage thing real or fake?” I nodded calmly. “It’s real.” He sighed. “There’s no need to lie to me, is there? Others might not know, but don’t I? You and Bradley just can’t get past that old obstacle. Actually, Bradley, he—” I interrupted him. “Jack, that’s not an obstacle. It’s a person. “I really am getting married this time. I’m not lying to you or acting out of spite.” Jack seemed to receive a tremendous blow. “Elliott! Look at what Bradley’s become these years. How can you…” “Don’t I know what he’s been like these years? How carefree he’s been in his world of flowers.” “These years, Bradley has looked at one woman after another who resembles you. The thing he’s said most is ‘like her, but not her.’” I said weakly, “Jack, but you saw it too. He still hates me.” … Bradley’s car suddenly stopped halfway. He issued an eviction order to Wilkinson beside him. “Get out.” Wilkinson’s expression stiffened. She forced a smile. “What, you say you don’t believe it, but hearing she’s getting married, you’re humiliated and angry?” Bradley’s eyes grew deeper. “Wilkinson, know your place. Blacklisting you is just one sentence from me.” Between her career and talking back, Wilkinson chose the former. She thought she was different to Bradley. No woman had sat in Bradley’s passenger seat. No woman had been acknowledged by him as his girlfriend. Other women were dumped just for mentioning Elliott. Wilkinson didn’t think Elliott was the first love everyone talked about. She thought Bradley felt more hatred. He’d loved, but love had turned to hate. Everyone wanted to be Mrs. Bradley. Since she, Wilkinson, had reached the threshold, she had to do everything possible to cross it. Wilkinson posted on Instagram—a photo she’d secretly taken of me. The private room lighting was dim. She’d only captured my back. Caption: 【Heard your first love came back, so I became the smear of mosquito blood on the wall.】 One minute later, she deleted it. Wilkinson was the top celebrity Bradley had promoted. Her every move could trend. This time, my name appeared in the trending topics. Her fans were indignant: 【What first love? She’s just someone who dumped Bradley back then and now can’t stand seeing our Wilkinson doing well, so she came back to steal him.】 【Isn’t this just a homewrecker?】 【She’s not just a homewrecker, she’s a murderer. She killed a mutual friend of hers and Bradley’s.】 【Not many people know about what happened back then. All I can say is Elliott has very powerful connections and background. You can guess the rest~】 【Was Wilkinson threatened? If you were threatened, post a period in your next Instagram.】 Wilkinson’s next Instagram post was indeed a period, which she then deleted. She stirred up waves again. When she came to my door to apologize, she still pretended to be innocent, wiping away tears. “I’m sorry, Elliott. I just accidentally posted script dialogue. I didn’t know netizens would get so worked up and actually cyberbully you. I’m sorry.” She cried pathetically. I said coldly, “You want to make me suffer but don’t want to offend the George family behind me. Wilkinson, there’s no such convenient arrangement in the world.” “Elliott, I know what they said is true—you and Bradley had a relationship, so you’re targeting me. I understand, but please leave Bradley alone.” I was about to speak when Wilkinson suddenly pitched forward, her head hitting the table directly. Bradley walked in just in time to see this scene. He rushed forward and scooped up the unconscious Wilkinson. Blood gushed out, staining half his shoulder red. “Elliott, I already took down all the trending topics for you. Don’t push too far.” I said angrily, “Do you think it was someone else who directed her fans to cyberbully me—” Bradley mocked me. “But Elliott, which part did they get wrong? That you left me without a word, or that you got someone killed?” The words stuck in my throat. He didn’t look back, carrying Wilkinson as he rushed to the hospital.

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My childhood dream with Zachary was to become police officers. But later on. He became the head of New York’s largest criminal organization. And I became his most formidable lieutenant. The day we were both arrested and imprisoned. He rubbed his nose and said: “We’re even now. In our next life, let’s be brothers again.” But I lowered my eyes, calmly had the guard open my door, and said to him through the iron bars: “Sorry, but this is my badge number.” My identity—I’m an undercover cop. The day Zachary was sentenced, it drizzled. I sat at the courthouse entrance smoking, but the rain kept extinguishing my cigarette. I couldn’t get it lit. When they were led out, the organization’s former second-in-command spat at me. “Pah! Liam, you ungrateful bastard.” My hand holding the cigarette trembled as I looked at Zachary. He still showed no expression. Back then, I thought that would be the last time I’d ever see him. That this demon who’d taken countless lives would die by firing squad. And I would finally, completely end my years of undercover work. The next day. The precinct informed me. Zachary had escaped from prison. When I heard the news, I was writing my debriefing report. A uniformed colleague burst in and tackled me to the ground. “Zachary escaped!!” “The armed forces they had don’t match the intel you provided!!” “Did you hold something back?!” His fists rained down on me without reason. He grabbed me by the collar, and I tilted my head to the side. Colleagues rushed in to pull us apart. The man coughed violently and threw a photo at me. In the photo. Inside the only transport vehicle left at the scene. Zachary had used my colleagues’ blood… To write my name over and over again. “The ones who took Zachary are foreign forces we haven’t identified yet.” “The officers transporting Zachary have been confirmed. Thirty-one people. Not one survived.” My lighter wouldn’t ignite. My partner gestured with his chin toward the man who’d just burst in and attacked me. “Young’s girlfriend… was among them.” So his girlfriend had just been killed. No wonder he resented me so much. “I didn’t withhold information.” “I never knew he had foreign backing.” I shoved the lighter into my pocket. Suddenly let out a dejected laugh. No matter how I explained it, it sounded hollow. “It’s okay, I believe you.” My partner patted my shoulder. “If you wanted to side with Zachary, this whole area would’ve been reduced to rubble by now.” “…” I didn’t know how to respond. So I stared at the white mist dispersing in the air. But my mind inexplicably wandered back. The night before Zachary was arrested, he’d rubbed my shoulder. “Liam, got a light?” The man had a sharp nose bridge, and when he looked down, his lashes were long. He leaned close to me, taking a spark from the cigarette in my mouth. I asked him if he didn’t have his own lighter. He laughed and said he wanted everything of mine.

After graduating from the police academy, I went undercover to get close to Zachary. When we were young, Zachary and I had stayed at the same orphanage. In our youth, we’d been close friends. Because of this, I had perfect, ideal conditions for approaching Zachary. But the moment we met, he had his men beat me up. I remember that day he wore a pair of dirty Adidas sneakers, stepping on my shoulder with his shoe. My finger bone was broken on the first go—it hurt worse than any injury I’d gotten at the police academy. He grabbed my hair and asked me: “Didn’t I tell you to get lost? Why did you come back?” I gritted my teeth to keep from crying out, but I looked up, meeting his eyes directly. I said, “Don’t send me away.” “I can’t survive out there, Zachary.” Zachary took me in. But for several nights in a row, he just had me drink with his gang of thugs. “Come on, drink up.” “You’re Liam, right? I heard you’re the boss’s brother?” A sleazy young man draped his arm over my shoulder. My clean white shirt seemed too out of place in that world. So he laughed mockingly. “Fuck, why so shy?” “We’re all bros here.” “Look, your brother—” Through my swaying vision, I followed his pointing finger to where Zachary sat. I saw a strikingly beautiful young man climbing onto the lap of a man who was tilting his head back, chugging alcohol. Nearby, his subordinates chatted and laughed, completely used to it. …This was the first time I learned about Zachary’s sexual orientation. I began to feel relieved for my childhood self. The one who used to crawl into Zachary’s bed and rub his stomach. I told Zachary I’d graduated middle school but dropped out of high school. He laughed with a cigarette in his mouth, calling me stupid. “Back then I fought tooth and nail to get you out.” “And you ended up like this?” “…” But those few days, I was also quite troubled. On the surface, Zachary ran a tea business, and the work he arranged for me was keeping track of daily tea sales. But anyone could figure out he wasn’t actually selling tea. That day, I rushed out and blocked him as he was about to get in his car. “You can’t have me selling tea leaves for the rest of my life.” He laughed. I always felt I must seem pretty cute to him. “So what do you want to sell?” The man tilted his head, asking me with considerable patience. But I froze. If I actually said something at that moment, he’d probably put a gun to my head on the spot. “Scared now?” He smiled, studying my expression. From that moment, I began to understand—he wasn’t the Zachary I used to know anymore. He had more tricks up his sleeve than books I’d read, had long since walked a completely different path from me. I steeled myself and got in his car. “I want to sell what you’re selling.” “Zachary, I want to do something big.” “Why should you get to do it, but not me?” Then Zachary brought me to… A canned meat processing plant. … “You’re messing with me.” I twitched my mouth, coming to this conclusion. “This factory is yours now, Liam. You’ve studied, so you know how to run it.” “This will be enough for your whole life…” “I don’t want it.” Only now did I realize. He was planning to shake me off. “Why can they follow you, but I can’t?” “Don’t you trust me? Do you think because I joined later, I’m suspicious?” “Fine, Zachary, then watch closely—compared to your men, who’s more willing to risk their life for you?” As I spoke, I started to put my hand into the running tea mixing machine beside us. Actually, in that second, my heart was racing. I’d even figured out how to report a work injury if my hand really got ground up. But the man lunged forward and pinned me to the ground. That was the first time I saw him angry. “Fucking hell, Liam, whose body do you think you’re playing with?” “Can you stop messing around?” “How could I possibly let you join me? You know what I do…” “Could get you killed?” He asked me, almost frantically. But in my heart, I answered him clearly. Of course I know what you’re doing. I came here to get you killed. But what I said aloud was: “Zachary, let me help you.” “I’m already a mess anyway, this is all my life will ever be.” “You might as well take care of me. I’ll be your problem for life.”

Zachary definitely didn’t know I was the documentary type. When it came to throwing tantrums, he couldn’t really win against me. As if forced into a corner, he slowly started letting me get involved in his operations. Saturday night, they were going to raid that nightclub in the south district. This was my first assignment— Take a few guys, kick down the nightclub’s door, and smash everything in sight. Before I left, Zachary squeezed my wrist. “Such thin arms and legs.” “Can you even fight?” … I really wanted to tell him my police academy scores were good enough to take down a dozen of him. But in the end, I just grinned at him. “Zachary.” “Just watch.” After nightfall, the city surged with an uneasy scent of blood. I led the group and kicked down the opposing headquarters’ door first. This gradually evolved into an all-out gang war. It was my first time seeing people hacking at each other with machetes—completely different from the minor scuffles at the police academy. I nearly got hit several times. Dodging frantically on instinct in the crowd. Suddenly I heard someone shout my name. I looked instinctively. Someone shoved me hard, and I tumbled out onto the street. “And you wanted me to ‘just watch.’” “Watch you get yourself killed?” Just now, if Zachary hadn’t pushed me aside, that machete would’ve come down the next second and severed my carotid artery. The person who’d prevented me from becoming a human blood fountain. Now groaned with some discomfort. … Fresh red blood darkened his already dark clothes. He shouldn’t have been here, but he’d forcibly taken that blow for me. I stood there thinking. Don’t you dare die. I want to send you to prison, not to hell. “Why are you standing there? Run!” “Fuck, Liam, I really fell for your bullshit.” “You should’ve just stayed home where it’s safe.” “…” The man pushed me away irritably. Just like when we were little—when others bullied me, he’d yell at me the same way. “You’re useless. Get out of the way, I’ll beat those guys up.” Unfortunately. Adult gang fights aren’t children’s games. When the police sirens sounded, that’s what I thought. This location was quite remote. The police arrived unusually fast. Clearly someone had tipped them off. Both gangs’ members instantly became rats fleeing in panic. Even so, quite a few were caught. Zachary and I both got away, but his people suffered heavy casualties—not just his own injury, but his manpower and influence. Obviously, this police operation was very successful. In the car, I bandaged the wound on his abdomen. He reached out his fingers, restlessly tousling my short hair. “Liam, without me you’d be dead today.” I lowered my eyes. He really was tough—he didn’t even grunt when the iodine seeped into his wound. “I can fight pretty well.” “Next time I won’t panic like that.” I tied him an ugly bow and answered. He tilted his head, his deep eyes fixed on me, then suddenly smiled. “Liam.” “There’s something I never told you.” “I only told you about our retreat route.” “But…” “The police blocked us right on our escape route, perfectly positioned.” The man reached up and lifted my chin. His rough fingertip sent an odd sensation through me. “What do you think…” “Will I let there be a next time?” “Little traitor?”

“…” I met his eyes directly. Shook off his hand. “Don’t fucking touch me.” “You suspect me? Zachary, you’ve got some nerve calling me a traitor.” “Don’t I look enough like your dog already?” I don’t know why, but my anger flared up instantly. For a moment, even I believed how loyal I was to him. The person across from me stared at me without blinking, saying nothing. But I knew clearly what that bulge in his pocket was. Maybe the next second, if he got pissed off. He could just pull it out, press it to my forehead, and send me to meet my maker. In the end, after holding it in for a long while, All he said to me was one sentence. “Get out of the car.” Huh? I didn’t react, because the car was still going 80 mph. He suddenly opened the car door and threw me out. I came to my senses mid-tumble, and before I could count how many bones I’d broken, I staggered to my feet. The car had already driven far away. I didn’t even get to eat its exhaust. On the roadside in the middle of nowhere, I kicked a tree trunk. “Fuck.” I was truly fucking innocent. Because from beginning to end, I never reported Zachary’s retreat route to headquarters. I understood Zachary too damn well. This guy would definitely set traps for me. So much for brotherly love—people like him faced betrayal from those closest to them most easily. So he was suspicious and cautious. But there was one thing I couldn’t figure out. If I didn’t leak it, then where did headquarters get their information from? Was Zachary bluffing me? No, it didn’t seem like it. The way he threw me out of the car without mercy. At least proved he had enough evidence to identify me as the culprit. Ten days later, Zachary found me again. At a fried chicken shop. I’d been staying here these past few days. The owner charged me 20 bucks a night to crash. My arm was roughly in a makeshift sling, one leg was limping, and I leaned against the wall watching a bunch of old men play cards. He wore a Burberry trench coat I could never afford in this lifetime. Hands in his pockets. Looking down at me. Smiling: “How’d you think to hide here?” “Know how long I’ve been looking for you?” I realized I really was like a dog. He was the bone—when he turned around, I’d come wagging after him. I’d practically lost all face. I really wanted to kick him flying, but I was afraid my other leg would go lame too, so I could only roll my eyes at him. “How would I dare.” “What brings Master Zachary to find me?” “What, planning to deal with this ‘traitor’? Chop off all four limbs?” I kindly provided him with suggestions for disposing of me, but he just kept smiling. Reached out and smoothed my hair. “Really hold grudges.” “We figured it out. It really wasn’t Liam who leaked it.” “Our conversation that day was overheard by the police’s actual mole.” “I misjudged you, Liam. But you know, in my line of work, what I fear most is people close to me stabbing me in the back.” He looked down and squeezed my shoulder. I could hear the sincerity in his words. “Forgive me, okay?” But my heart sank heavily. Yes, my suspicion was cleared. Then. That police undercover who got caught—who exactly was it…?

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I’m a mob boss, and I’m gay. My sister abandoned my brother-in-law and ran away from home. To sleep with my brother-in-law, I’ve been playing the part of an ordinary auto mechanic in front of him. After six years of this act, I finally ran out of patience. I tied my brother-in-law to the bed: “Mr. Pierce, have you ever tried being with a man?” “I have.” The phone on the nightstand wouldn’t stop vibrating. I bit down on my shirt collar, tilted my head back, let out a breath, then leaned down to kiss Pierce’s cheek before grabbing the phone. The caller ID showed “Faye.” Faye is my sister. She just returned to Harbor City recently. Pierce came home late today because he went to see her. I answered the call and used my pants to wipe the mess off Pierce’s legs, my voice hoarse: “Hello.” “Pierce?” “Not Pierce. It’s me, Felix.” “Let me talk to Pierce.” Pierce’s breathing was steady, his nostrils flaring slightly, same as always—completely unaware. The drug was imported. Worked like a charm. Once he drank it, he was out cold. No matter what I did to him, he wouldn’t wake up. I stared at the faint red marks on his chest, swallowed some ice water, and said: “He’s asleep. You can tell me whatever it is.” “Never mind then. I’ll call again tomorrow.” “Faye, why did you come back after leaving?” I gripped the phone tighter and knocked the glass against the coffee table, reminding Faye, “Stop looking for him. You handed him over to me.” Pierce liked Faye. But Faye liked women. Eight years ago, to appease our mother, Faye entered a fake marriage with Pierce. When Pierce married Faye, he had just graduated and only had nine thousand dollars to his name. He bought a diamond ring with it. The ring stayed on my sister’s finger for exactly one day before Pierce found it discarded in a bathroom corner. That ring was like Pierce’s heart—something Faye could throw away without a second thought. After our mother died, my sister wanted to leave Harbor City with her lover. I asked her: “What about Pierce when you’re gone?” My sister glanced at me sideways and smiled: “Don’t I still have you? You take good care of him for me.” Heh. Take care of him. I looked down at Pierce on the sofa, the faint flush still lingering on his body, his skin still gleaming with moisture. My throat itched. I bit my tongue lightly with my canines and chuckled. I’d taken care of him, all right. Every inch of him. Didn’t miss a spot. “Did you answer my call last night?” In the morning, Pierce emerged from the bathroom with a toothbrush in his mouth, scrolling through his phone. “Yeah, Faye called.” His shirt was unbuttoned, collar hanging open, revealing the outline of his pecs. Below that, I could see the red marks that hadn’t quite faded yet. I’d sucked those into his skin last night. They felt good under my lips. Pierce frowned and asked: “What did she say?” I grabbed his collar and buttoned him up from bottom to top, stopping at his chest to poke at one of those red marks. “What happened here? Bug bite?” Pierce glanced down, unconcerned. “Probably.” “Looks like someone kissed you.” I buttoned him all the way to the top, lightly pinching his neck, deliberately saying, “Pierce, you came home so late yesterday. Did you sleep with someone else?” Pierce looked at me. “Yeah, I did.” He pulled away from my hand, set down his phone to rinse his mouth, then turned back to see me still standing in the bathroom doorway. He put on his glasses, adjusted his cuffs, and asked very politely: “What? Waiting to hear the details?” Then he squinted and smiled, making it all up: “Six foot one, muscular, great pecs, narrow waist.” I clutched my stomach, laughing so hard I could die. He said it like it was real. I really wanted to tell him—I was the one who kissed him. I’d kissed every inch of his body. Pierce pushed past me to leave. I stood in front of the mirror for a long moment, puffing out my chest and squaring my shoulders. My pecs were pretty big too.

After breakfast, Pierce drove me to the auto shop before heading to work. Watching Pierce’s car disappear around the corner, I immediately turned and headed straight for the nightclub. Last night, someone had been dealing drugs in my establishment. Ajax, one of my enforcers, caught them and locked them on the top floor, waiting for me all night. I interrogated them for an hour and extracted a name from those two punks—Quincy Steele, the son of the current Crimson Brotherhood leader, Quinn Steele. Staying away from drugs was a rule passed down through the Crimson Brotherhood. After Quinn took over, he got greedy for drug profits and broke that rule. He once tried to drag me into it, but I refused. I stuck my knife right in front of Quinn: “Anything can come into the West District except drugs. If Mr. Steele wants to sell, I can’t stop you. But if you try to sell in my territory, better come with your neck washed clean.” The Steele father and son clearly didn’t take my words seriously. After crippling both hands of those two drug-dealing scumbags, I wiped the blood off my hands and headed downstairs, instructing Ajax: “Find out where Quincy’s stash is. Bury him with the drugs.” Ajax hesitated: “Felix, are we really going up against the boss?” “Someone’s already dancing on my forehead and you want me to pretend I don’t see it? Today Quincy can deal drugs in my place, tomorrow Quinn can stuff drugs down my throat. They sell drugs in my territory and pocket the cash—what am I, a saint?” Turning the corner, I caught sight of Pierce at the bar. He walked toward me. I instantly fell silent, my mind going blank, my heart nearly jumping out of my chest. I’d been playing the part of an honest, law-abiding mechanic in front of Pierce for six years. I never dared bring even a trace of blood home. First, I didn’t want Pierce to know too much. Life in this world is unpredictable. My life is cheap. If I die, I die. Pierce is different. Pierce is precious. Second, I made a vow to Pierce eight years ago. No knives, no fighting, no crime. I’d be a good, honest person and let him take care of me for the rest of my life. I’d lied to Pierce. I was afraid he wouldn’t stay with me forever. After Pierce got married, Faye almost never came home. Faye didn’t care about me, and she didn’t care about Pierce either. I dropped out of school at sixteen. At seventeen, Pierce took me in. He visited every high school in the city, compared them all, had drinks with people, and got me into a school with excellent teachers and a good atmosphere. The day it all worked out, Pierce got drunk and collapsed by the sofa, hugging me and rubbing my head, his chin resting on top of my head, saying: “Our little Felix is going to school now. Don’t be afraid. I’ll support you. You’ll get better and better, better and better.” I opened my mouth but didn’t tell him I didn’t want to go to school. I obediently drank my milk, obediently grew taller, obediently went to school. Then in corners where Pierce couldn’t see, I carried long knives and fought gang wars. Pierce found injuries on my body. Later, he caught me in an alley after a fight, covered in blood. Under Pierce’s scrutinizing gaze, half my body went numb. As clean as Pierce was in the sunlight, that’s how dirty I was in the shadows. I stiffened my neck and pieced myself together, bristling with defenses. I said: “You saw? I’m not what you thought. I’m not good at all.” “I didn’t want to go to school. You’re the one who made me go.” “If you think I’m too much trouble and don’t want me anymore, I’ll leave.” Pierce moved. He walked over, crouched down, and used the sleeve of his white shirt to wipe the blood off my face. “If you don’t want to go to school, don’t go. Even if you amount to nothing, I can still afford to keep you.” “I won’t abandon you. When I took you in, I was prepared to take care of you for the rest of your life.” He held my hand, gentle but firm, and took away my knife. “But Felix, I need you to promise me—no more knives, no more fighting, no more getting hurt, no more risking your life. Be good and let me take care of you, honestly and properly.” I made the promise, and Pierce believed me. He was almost stupidly righteous. Pierce and I are different. The worst thing that’s probably ever happened to him in his whole life was getting cheated on by my sister. But by the time I was fifteen, I’d already experienced all the suffering life had to offer. I clawed my way out of the mud, stained black through and through. No amount of washing could make me clean. Not even promises could change that. Sometimes I think, if Pierce had taken me in two years earlier, maybe I really could have been a good kid. Like he wanted. Go to school properly, get better and better. But that wasn’t possible. From the moment I picked up that steel pipe and crippled my father at sixteen, from the moment I joined the Crimson Brotherhood under Quinn, my world changed. In Harbor City, once you pick up a knife and join a gang, you can only climb higher. Either become the boss or die. There’s no leaving halfway.

Ajax said: “Felix, I think I see Pierce.” “…” Thanks. I’m not blind. Pierce seemed to be looking for someone. His wandering gaze suddenly landed on me, his brow furrowing as he squinted. I quickly snatched Ajax’s cap and pulled it down over my head, tugging the brim low. I’d just gotten covered in blood upstairs. The smell of blood on me was so strong it almost overpowered the mixed scents of the nightclub, rushing straight into my nostrils. Pierce absolutely couldn’t see me like this. Otherwise, the game would really be over. As Pierce passed by, I turned and lit a cigarette. The smoke blurred the space between us. For a moment, I saw Pierce reach his hand toward me. My heart raced, my pupils contracted. I hoped he wouldn’t recognize me, but I also hoped he could see through the smoke and grab hold of me. “Pierce.” That moment of connection was severed. Pierce lowered his hand and looked toward the voice. When he saw who called him, his eyes lit up, the corners of his mouth lifting in a subtle smile. That kind of smile—I’d seen it a thousand times, ten thousand times, eight years ago. A smile that belonged only to Faye. Pierce brushed past me, walking toward Faye. Whenever Faye was around, Pierce wasn’t my Pierce anymore. I crushed the burning cigarette into my palm, turned around, and watched them openly. Right now, I didn’t need to worry about Pierce recognizing me. When Faye appeared, Pierce couldn’t see anyone else. Over there, Pierce stood sideways, slightly bent at the waist, listening quietly and attentively to what Faye was saying. For Pierce to look back at me? I’d have to wait until the next life. But someone like me, when I die, I’m going to hell. Who knows if there’ll even be a next life. So, what was that saying? Some flowers need to be plucked when they bloom. I pointed at Pierce’s back and told Ajax: “You stay here and watch him. If he hasn’t left in ten minutes, tie him up and send him to Seaview Bay.” I took a few steps away, then turned back and said to Ajax: “Be careful. Don’t hurt him.” I leaned against my car and called Pierce. He didn’t answer the first time. The second call finally went through. I whined lazily: “Pierce, why aren’t you home? I’m starving.” It was noisy on his end: “I’ve got something to take care of. Grab something outside.” “Pierce, my stomach hurts. Can you come home early?” “Mm. Gotta go.” I stared at the darkened screen for a long time before shoving my phone into my pocket. I waited outside the nightclub for ten minutes. Pierce didn’t come out. I told him my stomach hurt, and he still didn’t come home. I knew I couldn’t compare to Faye, but I didn’t think the gap was this big. I was about to go crazy with jealousy.

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I was targeted and bullied by the scholarship student my parents sponsored—locked in a bathroom, doused with cold water, and photographed naked. When I came to my parents crying with my medical report and audio recordings, begging them to call the police, they confiscated my phone instead for the sake of their ridiculous “reputation.” “Lily, Claire’s family is poor. This is just kids horsing around. If we call the police, the media will say we’re big-shot prosecutors abusing our power, ruining a student from a disadvantaged background.” “You’re our daughter—you need to be magnanimous, to have perspective. To avoid any appearance of impropriety, we’ll settle this privately. Write her a letter of understanding.” I stared in disbelief at that letter filled with so-called “perspective.” “She destroyed me, but you’re afraid of destroying her?” “She’s your real daughter, isn’t she?” I saw the post Claire shared on Instagram—photos of my parents taking her to the seafood feast I’d begged for months to try, captioned: “My parents say some princesses just need to be put in their place.” In that moment, my heart died completely.

“Lily, smile! Aren’t your parents big-shot prosecutors?” “Have them come save you! Let’s see if they protect you or me—their model poverty case.” The bathroom stall door slammed open. A bucket of ice water mixed with cigarette ash poured over my head. I huddled by the toilet, soaked to the bone, my uniform plastered to my skin. Claire held up her phone, the camera lens shoved almost into my face, the flash so bright I couldn’t open my eyes. I bit down hard on my lip, the taste of blood filling my mouth. That evening, I knelt on the marble floor of our living room, clutching my medical report and voice recorder. “Mr. Sterling, I need to report this to the police. Claire took photos of my…” “Shut up.” Rachel wore her crisp uniform, holding a cup of freshly brewed tea, not even looking up. “Go change your clothes. You smell terrible. What a disgrace.” I looked up in disbelief, my knees aching against the hard floor. “Ms. Rachel, this is evidence! She held me underwater. She’s going to post it online…” Dad sat in his usual spot on the sofa, an unlit cigarette between his fingers. He finally looked at me, his eyes cold. “Lily, give me your phone.” I handed it over with trembling hands. The next second, he expertly powered it off, pulled out the SIM card, and tossed it into the ashtray in front of him. “Starting today, your phone is confiscated. You’ll stay home and reflect on your behavior.” I jerked my head up. “Why? I’m the victim! Mr. Sterling, listen to the recording—she was humiliating me…” “I said shut up!” Dad slammed his hand on the table, making the teacup rattle. He stood and walked over to me. “Call the police? Do you know what that means?” “What will the media write? ‘Prosecutor’s daughter abuses power, destroys poor student’s future.’” “Claire’s family is poor. Her father is paralyzed. She’s the city’s model of perseverance and self-improvement.” “What matters more to us—our reputation or your little grievance?” I opened my mouth, but my throat was dry. No sound came out. My grievance? Being photographed naked, having my head shoved in a toilet—in his mouth, that was just a “little grievance.” Mom set down her teacup and walked over. “Lily, you need to be reasonable. In our position, countless eyes are watching us.” “Claire has it hard too. She’s just a bit aggressive, trying to get attention.” “You’re the older one. You need to have perspective. To avoid any appearance of impropriety, this must be settled privately.” She pulled a sheet of paper from her briefcase and pushed it in front of me. “Letter of Understanding.” Party A: Lily. Party B: Claire. The content stated: This was horseplay between classmates. Party A will not pursue charges and waives all legal claims. Dad handed me a fountain pen. “Sign it. Don’t make us force you.” I stared at that pen—the one I’d given him when he was promoted to Chief Prosecutor. “What if I don’t sign?” Dad let out a cold laugh. “Don’t sign? Then you’ll take a leave from school. We’ll send you to stay with Grandpa in the countryside.” “Either way, without my approval, no case will be filed. No one will dare take it.” These were my parents. For their pristine image, for their so-called “reputation,” they were willing to sacrifice their own daughter. My hand trembled as I took the pen. The tip tore across the paper as I signed my name. Mom collected the document with satisfaction, her face brightening with a smile. “That’s better. Mom knew you’d be reasonable. Are you hungry? I’ll make dinner.” “No need.” I pushed myself up from the floor, my knees numb. Back in my room, I dug out my backup tablet. Half an hour later, a notification popped up on Instagram. It was Claire’s post. A grid of nine photos. Giant king crab, Australian lobster, and two hands raising glasses in a toast. One wore Mom’s diamond ring, the other Dad’s watch. Location tagged: Ocean Cloud Restaurant. Caption: “My parents said they’d treat me to calm my nerves. Some princesses just need to be put in their place.” “Thanks, Ms. Rachel and Mr. Sterling! Love you!” I stared at those words, my stomach churning. So “making dinner” actually meant they had reservations all along, taking my abuser out to celebrate. I rushed to the bathroom and vomited into the toilet. In the mirror, my face was deathly pale, my lip still split. While on my phone screen, the three of them looked like a perfect happy family. Since you love this “daughter” so much… Then I won’t be your real daughter anymore.

I woke before dawn. I dragged out my dusty suitcase and started packing. The closet was full of designer clothes Mom had bought. I didn’t take a single piece. Just packed a few pilled T-shirts and two pairs of faded jeans. I smashed open my piggy bank—eighteen hundred dollars inside. When I dragged the suitcase downstairs, the smell of food filled the dining room. The table was set with pan-fried buns and millet porridge. Mom was untying her apron, her brow furrowing. “What are you doing dragging a suitcase around at the crack of dawn? All that noise—it’s deafening.” Dad sat at the table reading the newspaper, not looking up. “Put the suitcase back and come eat. Claire’s coming over today. Don’t you dare put on that dead-fish face.” Claire. How affectionate. I left the suitcase by the entrance and stood at the door. “I’m not eating. And I don’t want to see her.” Mom slammed down her chopsticks. “Lily! What tantrum are you throwing now? Didn’t we settle everything yesterday?” “Claire already apologized. You signed the understanding. It’s over.” “How can you be so petty?” “Petty?” I pointed to my head. “Ms. Rachel, I have a mild concussion.” “My photos are still on her phone, but you took her out for king crab.” “This is your perspective?” Dad threw down his newspaper, his face dark. “You’re spying on us?” “Posting on Instagram is meant to be seen, isn’t it?” “Enough!” Dad stood up, pointing at the door. “You want to leave? Fine! You’ve got spine!” “Once you walk out that door, don’t come back! I’ll act like I never had a daughter!” “Leave your cards, phone, keys—everything!” I pulled the house key from my pocket and tossed it on the shoe cabinet. It made a sharp clinking sound. “You took my phone yesterday.” “I didn’t bring my bank cards—they’re all in the drawer.” “As for this house…” I looked around at the lavishly decorated mansion. “Keep it for Claire. After all, she’s more your blood than I am.” “How dare you!” Mom grabbed the teacup from the table and hurled it at me. It smashed against the doorframe, shards flying, one grazing my cheek. A line of blood seeped out. “And one more thing—don’t ever say you’re doing this for my own good.” “You only love yourselves and that hypocritical facade.” I grabbed the suitcase handle and pushed open the security door. Behind me, Dad roared. “Get out! Let her go! She’ll come crawling back crying in three days!” I didn’t look back. Three days? I’ll never beg you for anything again. Not in this lifetime. The place I found was in an old tenement building in the city’s rundown district. I’d barely set my things down when the tablet buzzed. An unknown FaceTime request. I hesitated, then answered. Claire’s face filled the screen. The background was our living room. She sat in my beanbag chair—the one I never let anyone touch. She held my limited-edition figurine in her hands. “Oh, Lily! Heard you ran away from home?” Her voice was sickeningly sweet. “Ms. Rachel said you have a temper, told me not to bother with you.” “But this figurine is really nice. Ms. Rachel said I could have it. You don’t mind, right?” *Snap.* She snapped it with force. The figurine’s head broke off. She covered her mouth in mock surprise. “Oops, my hand slipped. You’re not mad, are you?” Mom’s voice came from the background: “Claire, don’t worry about that trash. If it’s broken, throw it out. I’ll buy you a new one.” My fingers gripping the tablet turned white. That figurine—I’d saved for half a year to buy it. It was my only comfort in that house. I took a deep breath and smiled at the screen. “I don’t mind.” “Trash deserves trash. Pretty fitting.” “Oh, and that beanbag you’re sitting on? I used to keep a dog. The dog peed on it.” Claire’s face changed. She jumped up. “You’re lying! There was never a dog in the house!” “Believe what you want.” I hung up the video. Staring at the black screen, I slumped onto the dusty floor. My stomach rumbled. The real test was just beginning.

I applied for a leave of absence. The academic advisor looked at my medical report, sighed, and didn’t ask questions. Without a degree, I could only work night shifts at a convenience store and take cheap translation gigs during the day. Three days after leaving home, I came down with a fever. I wanted to go to the hospital, but I only had two hundred dollars left. I forced down tap water and made myself swallow an expired pack of cold medicine. As long as I didn’t die, I’d watch them fall. Two weeks later, I had no choice but to go back to campus. My backpack held my laptop and important documents. I’d just reached the building when a group surrounded me. “Well, well, if it isn’t our prosecutor’s princess!” Claire stood on the steps, looking down at me. She wore a cream-colored cashmere coat—the new one Mom bought in Hong Kong last month. “Why are you dressed like that? Those pants are from a street market, aren’t they?” Claire walked down, reaching out to tug at my sleeve. “Lily, you look pathetic. Ms. Rachel said you were living wild out there. I didn’t believe it.” “Guess it’s true. You can’t even afford decent clothes?” Students around us whispered and pointed. I slapped Claire’s hand away, staring at her. “You stole that coat, didn’t you?” Claire’s face stiffened, then she raised her voice. “What are you talking about! Ms. Rachel lent it to me!” “I have a speech competition—representing the school. Ms. Rachel didn’t want me to freeze.” Her eyes shifted, and suddenly she grabbed my backpack strap. “Wait! I just lost five hundred dollars!” “You must have stolen it! You’re desperate now—you were lurking around me just now!” “Search her! Open the backpack!” Her lackeys immediately surrounded me, jeering. I clutched my backpack tight. “Back off! I didn’t steal anything!” In the scuffle, Claire’s sharp nails raked across the back of my hand. Blood welled up instantly. “What’s going on here!” The dean rushed over with several people. Walking behind them were my parents. They carried thermal containers—clearly coming to bring Claire soup again. Mom rushed over, shoving me aside and pulling Claire into her arms. “Claire, what happened? Are you hurt?” Dad walked up to me. “Lily! How much more are you going to embarrass yourself?” “Coming to school to steal? You’ve disgraced the entire family!” I held up my bleeding hand. “Mr. Sterling, which eye of yours saw me steal?” “Even in court you need evidence. You’re convicting me without even asking?” Dad’s face flushed red. “Then why would Claire accuse you and not someone else?” “You must have sticky fingers!” Claire nestled in Mom’s arms, voice tearful. ” Mr. Sterling, maybe I remembered wrong… but Lily was really mean just now…” “It’s okay. Ms. Rachel will handle this.” Mom glared at me. “Lily, open your backpack. Let everyone check and prove your innocence.” “If you didn’t steal, apologize to Claire and we’ll drop it.” Looking at my parents’ “for your own good” expressions, I couldn’t take it anymore. I yanked the backpack zipper open and turned it upside down. Everything spilled out—books, charger, my old laptop covered in stickers. My worn wallet fell out, containing only a few crumpled bills. “See it clearly? Where’s the five hundred dollars?” My eyes were red as I pointed at my scattered belongings. “Search! Isn’t that what you wanted?” The crowd went silent. Claire shrank back. “Well… maybe I left it in the classroom.” “Just ‘maybe I forgot’ and that’s it?” I stepped closer. “You accused me of theft, violated my privacy—isn’t that bullying?” “Enough!” Dad snapped. He looked at the growing crowd of onlookers, his brow furrowed. He strode over and grabbed my wrist. “Stop making a scene. Get in the car.” He lowered his voice. “If you have something to say, say it at home. Don’t let outsiders laugh at us.” Mom caught on too, explaining to the crowd. “Kids these days—teenage rebellion. Everyone, please disperse.” They flanked me, trying to drag me toward the Audi A6 at the gate. I grabbed the iron railing and held on tight. “I’m not going back! Let go!” Dad hissed in my ear through gritted teeth: “Keep making a scene and I’ll have you committed to a psychiatric hospital!” Psychiatric hospital. For his reputation, he’d lock his own daughter in an asylum. I laughed. “You want to save face?” I took a deep breath and screamed with everything I had: “Help! The prosecutor is trying to kill someone! My own parents are trying to drive their daughter to death!” The crowd froze. Even the security guard at the gate poked his head out. Dad’s face went white. He instinctively released his grip. “You’re insane!” He snarled quietly, veins bulging on his forehead. Mom panicked, trying to maintain her dignified image. “Lily, what are you talking about! When have your parents ever pressured you?” I didn’t give her a chance, pointing at the Audi. “You wanted me in that car to drag me somewhere private and punish me, didn’t you?” “Just like when you forced me to sign that letter of understanding!” “For your reputation, you protected my bully Claire and forced me, the victim, to apologize on my knees!” “Now that I’ve left home, you’re chasing me to school to accuse me of theft?” The murmurs exploded. “What? Letter of understanding?” “Claire’s bullying was real?” Countless eyes turned toward Victor Sterling and Rachel. Dad’s hands trembled. He wanted to lunge at me but seeing all the phones raised around us, he didn’t dare. He stared at me, forcing words through his teeth: “Lily, if you don’t come with me today, I’ll freeze all your accounts. You won’t even be able to afford school!” I laughed coldly and pulled a folding fruit knife from my pocket. “Don’t move.” I pressed the blade against my own throat. The crowd gasped. Mom screamed: “Lily! What are you doing! Put it down!” “Scared?” “You’re not afraid I’ll die—you’re afraid I’ll die here and soil your official robes.” “Victor Sterling, Rachel—listen carefully.” “From today on, I’m severing our parent-child relationship.” “Whatever debt I owed you for raising me was paid in full the day you forced me to sign that letter.” “Now take your daughter and get out!” I pushed the blade forward. The skin broke. Blood trickled down.

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