When people gossiped about her, she always said, “I’m running a legitimate business. I earn my money through hard work.” Whenever I argued with her, she would scream, “I must have been blind to marry a useless loser like you!” But it was only because I loved her that I was willing to swallow my pride and play weak. Then the rumors started. People whispered that I was a parasite, living off her money. She chimed in, “Well, they aren’t wrong. I make way more than you do.” The truth was, my entire salary went toward our mortgage and bills, and I even bought her designer bags and clothes. As for her salary? I never saw a single dime of it. She had no idea that six months ago, I was promoted. My new package was a quarter-million dollars a year. I waited. I pamper-fed her through her pregnancy until the day she went into labor. That was the day I blocked her on everything and vanished… “Ethan, man, you really need to keep a leash on your wife.” My best friend warned me again. I just smiled, nodded, and brushed it off. My wife, Chloe, worked as a masseuse at a rather sketchy local spa. My friends had spotted customers getting way too touchy-feeling with her more than once. “Babe, don’t you trust me?” Chloe would ask, wrapping her arms around my neck, her face covered in heavy makeup. I’d just smile back. “Of course I do. You’re just doing your job. I’ve got your back.” Hearing this, Chloe would cuddle into my chest with a smug smile. Despite my quiet support, the rumors about her being a “cheap spa girl” only got worse. *I can’t believe Ethan lets Chloe support him.* *No wonder he doesn’t mind her giving him a neon green hat.* The gossip spread like wildfire. Eventually, everyone we knew began sneering at me, slowly freezing me out of our social circle. “Babe, maybe it’s time to look for a different job?” I suggested to Chloe one evening. “We are doing just fine,” she snapped, her face tightening. “People will talk no matter what. Besides, it’s a fact that I make way more than you.” The rumors were clearly getting to her head. She was starting to look down on me. To her, I was just a low-level office drone making $3,000 a month, while she was bringing home nearly $10,000. One afternoon, after running an errand near her spa, I decided to stop by and surprise her for lunch. “Stop calling me! I’m busy, damn it!” I walked toward her breakroom and called her name. No answer. Just as I reached for the doorknob, her irritated voice cut through the door. I waited outside for about twenty minutes. When Chloe finally stepped out, her hair was a mess, and her blouse was half-unbuttoned. “Oh, so this is your loser husband?” Before I could say a word, a bald man in a flashy suit walked out of the breakroom behind her. Instead of defending me, Chloe put on a sweet, flirty smile. “See you next time, Marcus!” My stomach churned. The appetite I had was completely gone. That night, we had a massive blowout. “I was blind to ever marry a broke loser like you!” Chloe screamed. Just because I asked her to quit that sketchy place, she lost her mind. She claimed I couldn’t afford the lifestyle she wanted. What lifestyle? When had I ever said no to her demands? She slammed the door and left. We didn’t see each other for two weeks. The only text she sent me was: *Let’s get a divorce.* Immediately after, she blocked my number and my Snapchat. I went to her spa to find her, but she refused to see me. I tried to save our marriage, but she was hell-bent on leaving. What else could I do? I agreed to the divorce. But once I agreed, she suddenly went silent. A month later, my phone rang. It was Chloe. “Ethan… I’m pregnant.” Her voice sounded incredibly sweet, almost overflowing with joy. “Really? That’s amazing, babe!” I forced a cheerful tone, but my face was dead cold. Chloe really took me for an idiot. She wanted a scapegoat to take the blame and raise another man’s kid while she kept messing around. “Babe, I’m so sorry about our fights. Actually, I have some good news too. I just got promoted to director. My new package is $250,000 a year. You can quit your job and focus on the baby.” Hearing about the money, Chloe didn’t hesitate. She quit her job the next day and stayed home. During her pregnancy, I treated her like a queen. I hired a private chef and a maid to pamper her. With five gourmet meals a day, her once-slender body quickly ballooned. She was completely intoxicated by this new luxurious life, eagerly waiting for the baby to arrive. Finally, the day came. “Where is the husband? Chloe Miller’s husband! The baby is too big, we need to do an emergency C-section!”

The doctor shouted anxiously in the hallway. I simply smiled, turned around, and walked out of the hospital. “Ethan! Where the hell are you?! I almost died giving birth to your son, and you pull a disappearing act?!” From the moment she popped the baby out, Chloe kept spamming my phone. I didn’t pick up once. A week later, I finally answered. “My son?” I chuckled. Seriously, how did she say that with a straight face? “What do you mean by that?! You have thirty minutes to get your ass over here, Ethan!” Chloe screamed through the receiver. I knew exactly why she was panicking. She didn’t even have the money to pay her hospital bills. “Sure. But while we’re at it, let’s run a DNA test to see whose kid that actually is.” The line went dead silent. I knew she was guilty. A few minutes after I hung up, she called back, her voice completely changed—soft and whimpering. “Babe… I know you still love me. Can we please just talk?” She was playing nice now. But I wasn’t an idiot. Raise another man’s kid? No way. “Sure,” I said smoothly. But instead of going to the hospital, I drove straight back to my office. On the way, I thought about how we met. An acquaintance had introduced us. Back then, she was just a certified pediatric massage therapist. We dated for a year before getting married. After the wedding, someone lured her into that shady spa. I didn’t find out until my friend told me. We had a huge fight about it. To convince me, she brainwashed me every day, even taking me to the spa to prove it was a “clean, professional business.” Just when I was about to believe her, I caught her in a lie. From that day on, I stopped trusting her. I hid my real income and never told her about my promotion. I gave her chances. I tried to pull her back. But she took my love as a license to play me for a fool. “Ethan, you are not a real man!” When I got home, Chloe was sitting in my living room, holding the baby. “So raising another man’s kid makes me a man?” I pulled off my tie and sat on the couch. “Ethan, I know you still love me. Can we just start over? If you love me, you have to accept my son too.” So, she was finally admitting it wasn’t mine. Looking at her now, easily weighing 180 pounds, I found the whole thing hilarious. “When I loved you, you treated me like trash. Now that I don’t, it’s over. I signed the divorce papers you wanted a month ago. Here.” I threw the papers on the coffee table. “No! You can’t do this to me!” she shrieked, losing her mind. “Why not? Am I supposed to just keep wearing the green hat you gave me?” If she wouldn’t sign them quietly, I’d let my lawyers handle it. Chloe knew she wouldn’t get a single penny if we went to court. She might even have to pay me back for all the money she spent. “Ethan, do you really have to be this cruel?” Chloe fell to her knees, grabbing my hand, tears streaming down her face. Disgusted, I shook her off. “If you don’t want to see this baby, I can give him away! Just don’t divorce me!” she cried, grabbing my leg. She was crying so loudly that the baby woke up, screaming at the top of his lungs. Annoyed, Chloe didn’t even look at the child. She just tossed him carelessly onto the couch. “Get out,” I said coldly. “Ethan! Even if we divorce, I’m entitled to half of everything! This house is half mine! I’m not going anywhere!”

Chloe stood up, pointing a finger at my face and screaming. In a normal marriage, yes, she might have a claim. But before we got married, she insisted on signing a prenuptial agreement because she was terrified she’d have to help me pay off my mortgage. “Then go ahead and sue me.” I grabbed her and the baby and pushed them both out of the door. But Chloe didn’t leave. She stood in the middle of our gated community, wailing at the top of her lungs about how heartless I was for kicking a woman and her newborn out just a week after she gave birth. Soon, a group of nosy older neighbors—classic Karens—couldn’t stand it anymore. They rallied behind Chloe and marched right up to my door. “You are a heartless monster! Abandoning your wife and newborn baby? karma will get you!” “She hasn’t even recovered from giving birth yet, and you throw her on the street?!” The moment I opened the door, the older women started barking at me. “Young man, marriage is about compromise. Don’t be so petty!” one of them lectured. “Oh really? What did she tell you guys?” I asked, genuinely curious about how Chloe had manipulated them. “You young people have such weird appetites. She literally just gave birth, of course she can’t sleep with you yet!” another lady chimed in. I almost burst out laughing. “Ethan, can we please just wait until I’m fully recovered?” Chloe whimpered, dropping hints to keep up the lie. “Ma’am,” I looked at the lead Karen. “If your daughter-in-law cheated on your son and tried to make him raise another man’s baby, would you still tell him to compromise?” The crowd went dead silent. “What?” The ladies blinked, completely stunned. Chloe’s face went pale. She hadn’t expected me to air our dirty laundry in public. “The baby isn’t mine. And we are already getting a divorce,” I stated clearly. “No! I didn’t sign those papers! You can’t just kick me out!” Chloe screamed. I had tried to give her a dignified exit, but she threw it away. “The house is my pre-marital asset. And before we got married, you were the one who insisted on a prenup. Did you forget?” The neighbors looked at each other, realizing they had been played. In America, nothing turns a crowd faster than finding out they supported a cheating gold-digger. “Oh my god, how shameless…” “Let’s go. Why are we defending a liar? You reap what you sow.” The crowd dispersed in seconds. Chloe slumped to the ground, holding the baby and crying hysterically. I closed the door and called security to have her removed for trespassing. Since she couldn’t show her face in our neighborhood anymore, she decided to bring the drama to my office. With so many corporate employees around, gossip traveled faster than light. *No way. Is Ethan really that kind of guy?* *He probably got rich and wanted to dump his wife.* By the time I arrived at work, the office was buzzing with rumors. I was used to it. After all, they used to whisper that I was a freeloader living off her. “Ethan, you bastard! You want to ruin my life? I’ll drag you down with me!” Chloe screamed in the lobby, drawing a massive crowd. I couldn’t just ignore this anymore. It was damaging my reputation and the company’s image. I signaled my assistant to get the files ready. Chloe thought I had no proof. She thought that if she made enough noise, I’d get fired. She miscalculated. “Chloe, this is your last warning. Stop this, leave, and take this $15,000.” I threw a check at her feet. “You think $15,000 is going to make me go away?! No way! You’re scared now, aren’t you, Ethan? Too late! I’m taking you down to hell with me!” Chloe threw the check back at my face, screaming like a lunatic. I had given her a chance. The surrounding crowd pressed closer, eager for more drama. Seeing my silence, Chloe grew bolder. She sat on the floor, ignoring the baby’s loud crying, and glared at me with pure venom. Suddenly, the giant presentation screen in the lobby flickered to life. A video started playing. *“Ooh, gentler, baby… you’re hurting me.”* *“You little slut. Aren’t you afraid your loser husband will find out?”*

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In the seventh year of our marriage, I finally relented and let my husband bring his late brother’s wife and daughter into our home. One afternoon, my son secretly pulled me into his room and pressed a crumpled wad of cash into my hand. “Mom, look. I’ve saved up so much money. Next time Dad kicks you out, let’s just leave him. We don’t need him.” “Can you divorce Dad? I don’t want him anymore. I want you to find me a good dad.” My heart squeezed painfully. “But baby, what about you?” My son looked up, his eyes shining with fierce determination. “I’ll go wherever you go, Mom. I’m a big boy now. I can protect you.” “Ever since Chloe and Lily moved in, every time Dad brings back gifts from his business trips, Lily gets to pick first. We only get her leftovers.” “And last week, when you fainted from the fever, I called Dad ten times. He blocked my calls. He was busy taking Chloe and Lily to Disneyland.” I clenched the crumpled bills in my fist, a bitter taste rising in my throat. That night at dinner, my son accidentally called his father “Dad.” For the sixth time in our marriage, my husband demanded a divorce and threatened to throw us out. “Look at how you raised your son! He knows Lily doesn’t have a father, yet he deliberately rubs it in her face. Get the hell out of my house and think about what you’ve done!” Seeing my son trembling but still standing in front of me to shield me, something inside me finally snapped. The fog in my brain cleared. I stood up and flipped the dining table. Plates shattered, and food splattered everywhere. “You want a divorce? Fine! Let’s get a divorce!”

Austin’s face turned pitch black. He instantly scooped his niece, Lily, into his arms while throwing his free arm around his sister-in-law, Chloe, shielding her behind him. “Have you lost your mind, Claire? Chloe spent hours cooking this dinner, and you just ruined it!” Chloe peeked out from behind Austin’s shoulder, a smug, triumphant smirk flashing across her face before she quickly replaced it with a look of sheer terror. My fingernails dug into my palms. My face went completely pale. Ever since Chloe and her daughter moved in, I had been relegated to an unpaid maid. Tonight, Chloe had literally just carried two takeout dishes to the table, and suddenly, she was the chef of the year. If she so much as touched a broom once a week, Austin praised her for “deep cleaning” the house. Meanwhile, I worked myself to the bone from dawn to dusk, only for Austin to call me lazy. And now, when I was pushed to the absolute edge, he was still blaming me for ruining Chloe’s “hard work.” Lily wrapped her arms around Austin’s neck, sobbing hysterically. “Austin… where is my daddy? Why does Leo get to have a dad and I don’t?” Austin and Chloe immediately swarmed her, cooing and soothing her. But the more they comforted her, the louder she wailed. Austin whipped his head around, glaring at my son with pure rage. “Did I not make myself clear, Leo? You are never to call me ‘Dad’ in front of Lily! Get on your knees. Now!” My seven-year-old son trembled, his knees instantly buckling out of sheer survival reflex. I lunged forward, grabbing him by the shoulders to pull him back up. I glared at Austin, my voice shaking with disbelief. “He has a father! Why on earth can’t he call you Dad in his own home?” This was beyond ridiculous. After Austin’s brother, Ryan, died in a car crash, Austin insisted on bringing his widow and daughter into our home. Since that day, he had forbidden Leo from calling him “Dad.” Leo was just a child. Occasionally, he would slip up. But every time he did, Lily would throw a massive tantrum, and Austin would either slap Leo’s hands or force him to kneel on the hard floor as punishment. Just a minute ago, Leo couldn’t reach the food on Austin’s side of the table and accidentally called out, “Dad, can you pass the chicken?” That was all it took for Austin to slam his fist on the table, shaking the plates. “You can’t even raise a son right! I want a divorce. Get the hell out of my house and reflect!” I clutched my fork, my eyes burning. This was the sixth time he had used divorce to threaten me. The first time was when Leo begged Austin to attend his Parent-Teacher Association meeting. Lily had burst into tears, and Austin threw me out of the house. “From now on, I will only attend Lily’s school events. She needs a male role model more than Leo does,” he had declared. The second time was when I suggested Chloe should look into getting a job to support herself. She wept, locked herself in her room, and went on a “hunger strike” for a day, claiming I was mocking her tragic widowhood. Austin demanded a divorce that night. For the sake of giving my son a complete family, I had always swallowed my pride, begged for forgiveness, and crawled back. But looking at my trembling, terrified boy, I woke up. This wasn’t a family. This was a horror movie. Chloe, tears streaming down her face, dramatically snatched Lily from Austin’s arms. “Claire, please don’t divorce Austin because of us! My daughter and I will leave. We won’t get in your way anymore.” With that, she grabbed her purse and made a theatrical run for the front door. Austin leaped forward, grabbing her arm to pull her back. He spun around and spat at me, “Claire! How can you be so heartless?” “They are a grieving widow and an orphan! We took them in, and this is how you treat them? If people in our circle find out about this, they will drag our family name through the mud!” My nose stung, and a sharp, stabbing pain bloomed in my chest. Drag his family name through the mud? When they first moved in, they were pale and malnourished. I pitied them. I spent my own savings buying organic groceries and cooking nutritious meals to nurse them back to health. In our three-bedroom apartment, Chloe and Lily occupied the two master bedrooms. The three of us—Austin, Leo, and I—were crammed into the tiny guest room. Chloe had cried that she had no assets left, so Austin transferred the deed of the cottage my parents had left me to her name. I hadn’t even made a scene about that. I had done everything a supportive sister-in-law could possibly do. No one could point a finger at me. But in his eyes, I was still the villain. I knelt down, wrapped my arms around Leo, and stared at Austin for a long, quiet moment. “Austin,” I said softly, “I agreed to let them move in because I felt sorry for them. But do you even remember who your actual wife and son are?” Austin stiffened, his expression flickering with a moment of guilt. “What kind of nonsense is that? Of course I know.” I pressed my lips together. The fog in my head had completely vanished. Actually, I was the one who hadn’t realized the truth. I hadn’t realized that to Austin, the validation of outsiders meant more than his own flesh and blood. As long as Chloe and her daughter stroked his ego and praised him to the neighbors as a “heroic savior,” he was willing to bleed us dry. I hugged Leo tight, gently patting his back. “It doesn’t matter if you can’t tell us apart anymore,” I said, my voice steady and cold. “After all, I’m about to be your ex-wife.”

Austin’s face hardened. “All this drama over a minor slip of the tongue? Ever since Chloe and Lily moved in, you’ve done nothing but throw petty tantrums.” My heart felt like it was being shredded. Petty tantrums? The psychological abuse, the exploitation, the humiliation—all of it was just a “petty tantrum” to him. The silence in the room grew suffocating. Chloe’s eyes darted around. Suddenly, she grabbed Lily and lunged toward the drywall, screaming, “Austin, don’t fight with Claire! It’s all my fault! We’ll pay you back in the next life… Ryan, we’re coming to join you!” Her acting was flawless, her face a perfect mask of tragic despair. She secretly pinched Lily’s arm, and the little girl let out a piercing, ear-splitting shriek. I watched the spectacle with complete numbness. This theatrical performance happened at least three times a month. Panic flashed in Austin’s eyes. He rushed over, grabbing Chloe by the waist and pulling her back. “What the hell are you doing?!” he roared. Chloe shuddered, casting a fearful, sideways glance at me. “I know… Claire hates us. She wants us dead.” Austin spun around, grabbed my arm roughly, and dragged me forward. “Apologize to her. Now.” I held Leo close to my chest. He was clutching my shirt so hard his knuckles were white. I stared back at Austin in dead silence. I had done absolutely nothing wrong. Why should I apologize? Austin’s brow furrowed into a tight scowl. The sound of Lily’s hysterical crying was making him lose his mind. Without warning, his hand flew out and struck my face. SLAP! The force of the blow nearly knocked me off my feet. A bright red handprint bloomed on my cheek. My ears rang, and the last remaining piece of my heart shattered into dust. I suddenly remembered our wedding day. Austin had sworn before God and our family that no matter what happened, he would never lay a finger on me. He had promised to love and protect me. He had forgotten every single word. Even Austin seemed shocked by his own action. He reached out, his hand trembling slightly. “Claire… does it hurt?” The boy in my arms let out a furious cry. Leo shoved Austin’s hand away with all his might. “Don’t touch my mom! You’re a bad dad! I hate you!” Austin stumbled back, his eyes narrowing. “Who taught you to speak to your father like that?” Chloe, wiping her fake tears, chimed in, “Who else could it be but Claire? Austin, you’re away at work all day, so you don’t know. Claire is always whispering poison into Leo’s ear, turning him against you. She’s ruining the boy.” Austin’s expression darkened. He reached out to snatch Leo from my arms. “From now on, Chloe will raise Leo. I won’t let you turn him into a bitter, toxic brat like yourself.” Let Chloe raise him? A memory flashed in my mind, making my blood run cold. A few months ago, I had to go to the hospital to care for my mother-in-law for a few hours. I had left Leo at home. When I unlocked the door, I found Leo kneeling on the hardwood floor, picking up sunflower seed shells with his bare hands. Chloe had been lounging on the sofa, eating seeds and barking orders at him like a slave owner. Lily had been throwing heavy plastic toys at Leo’s head for fun. One toy had cut his forehead open. He had been sobbing on the floor, bleeding, while they laughed. I had rushed him to the ER, where he got five stitches. When I confronted Austin, what did he say? “It’s just kids playing. Don’t be so dramatic.” Panic surged through me. My chest tightened. I couldn’t let him take my son. I would rather die.

Austin lunged forward to grab Leo. Chloe helped him, pulling at my son’s legs. “Leo, come to Chloe. If you stay with your crazy mother, you’ll end up homeless on the streets!” Leo screamed in terror, reaching his tiny hands toward me. “Mom! Mom! Help me!” When I saw the bright red friction burns forming on Leo’s pale arms, I had to let go. If I kept pulling, they would dislocate his shoulders. With Leo in his arms, Austin smirked triumphantly. “You want a divorce? Go ahead. But you’re not taking Leo with you.” Leo sobbed hysterically, choking on his own tears. I stared at my son, my mind racing with desperation. Austin was smug. He was certain that because of Leo, I would eventually crawl back on my hands and knees, begging for mercy, just like the last five times. But this time, I was calculating my chances in a custody battle. “You can’t divorce! You absolutely cannot divorce!” The front door burst open, and my in-laws, Richard and Martha, hurried into the apartment. “The neighbors are already whispering that Chloe is a homewrecker!” Martha gasped, grabbing my hand with fake affection. “Claire, sweetie, I’m on your side.” She leaned in close, whispering in my ear, “How about this? I’ll have Chloe and Lily move in with us for a while. You and Austin can have some couple time. Just don’t divorce.” I gently but firmly pushed Martha’s hand away. She didn’t care about my marriage. She was just terrified of losing her free, 24-hour caregiver and maid. When Martha was hospitalized last year, I was the one who cooked every meal, washed her clothes, and bathed her. The year before, when Richard broke his leg and refused to stay in the rehab center, I was the one who studied physical therapy videos to help him walk again. Where was Chloe during all of this? She and Lily left the house in a complete mess for me to clean. I was so exhausted my back was constantly spasming, yet I still had to cook gourmet meals for them. When I complained to Austin, he just snapped, “You’re a housewife. You don’t have a real job. What else are you supposed to do all day?” My in-laws had broken my heart. During their illnesses, Chloe never visited them once. After they recovered, she simply bought them two cheap sweaters from Wish. And yet, my in-laws had turned around and scolded me. “Look at Chloe! She’s so thoughtful, unlike you.” Richard slammed his cane against the floor, making a deafening crack. “If anyone dares to get a divorce in this family, I will throw myself off a bridge!” Chloe immediately rushed to support Richard. “Please don’t say things like that.” She shot me a victimized look. “Claire didn’t mean it. It’s just that Lily was upset because Leo kept calling Austin ‘Dad’ right in front of her.” Richard sneered. “Leo is just a child, but what about you, Claire? Aren’t you an adult? Don’t you have any common sense?” A wave of bitter fury surged up my throat. I couldn’t hold it back anymore. “Is Austin dead?” I spat out. “If he’s not dead, why the hell can’t his own son call him Dad?” “You bad woman! My daddy isn’t dead!” Lily, prompted by a subtle nudge from Chloe, rushed forward and began hitting my legs with her fists. Chloe quickly scooped her up, fake-panicking. “Yes, sweetie, Daddy isn’t dead. He just went on a very long trip.” Austin, completely ignoring his own sobbing son on the floor, rushed over to comfort Lily. Leo ran to my side, grabbing my hand. I squeezed his hand, preparing to slip out of the apartment in the chaos. But the commotion had drawn a crowd of neighbors in the hallway, who were now whispering and pointing at us. Losing face in front of the neighbors made Richard furious. He raised his heavy wooden cane, aiming it straight at my head. “You ungrateful, disobedient bitch! I’ll teach you a lesson!”

Leo reacted instantly, pulling me into the guest bedroom and slamming the door shut, locking it from the inside. Outside, the muffled voices of my in-laws carried through the thin door. “Is she really going to divorce him?” Martha whispered anxiously. “If they divorce, who’s going to cook for us and drive us to our appointments? The nurse we hired last time complained about the pay and left after two days. We can’t let them divorce.” Austin’s arrogant voice drifted in. “She won’t dare. She hasn’t worked a single day since she got pregnant. If she divorces me, she’ll end up starving on the streets. Besides, I saved her life once…” The rest of his words faded as they walked further into the living room. That night, I held Leo tight as he slept. He was sweating and twitching in his sleep, his little hands clawing at my shirt. “Mom… please don’t leave me… don’t let them lock me up…” During one of our previous fights, when Austin had kicked me out, he had locked Leo in a dark closet for ten hours, telling him, “Your mother abandoned you because you’re a bad boy.” It wasn’t until I came back crying and begging on my knees that Austin finally let me see my terrified, hyperventilating child. I kissed Leo’s forehead, tears slipping down my cheeks. “Go to sleep, my brave boy. Mommy will never leave you. I promise.” The next morning, I heard the front door click. Austin had left for work. I quickly packed our passports, birth certificates, and a few essentials into a small backpack. Holding Leo’s hand, I crept out of the bedroom. But the moment I opened the door, my heart froze. Austin was sitting on the living room sofa, staring at me with a chilling, mock smile. “Going somewhere so early, honey?” I forced myself to take a deep breath, squeezing Leo’s hand to reassure him. “Just going for a walk.” I walked toward the front door. I reached for the handle and turned it. Nothing. He had deadbolted it and taken the keys. I spun around, my heart hammering against my ribs. Austin stood up, his towering shadow swallowing me whole. He lunged forward, ripped the backpack from my hands, and dumped the contents onto the floor. My documents and cards scattered everywhere. “A backup plan? You really thought you could run?” I backed away, shielding Leo behind me. Austin’s eyes were bloodshot. He grabbed Leo by the collar, dragging him away. He threw my screaming son into the guest bedroom and locked the door from the outside. Leo’s desperate cries echoed through the apartment. “Mommy! Mommy! Open the door!” My heart shattered. I threw myself at the door, pounding on it, but Austin grabbed my wrists, dragging me into the master bedroom. He threw me onto the bed, pinning me down with his heavy body. “You want a divorce? Sure. But give me another baby first, and maybe I’ll let you go.” I couldn’t breathe. In a fit of disgust and rage, I swung my arm and slapped him across the face. “You disgusting monster!” He smirked, ignoring my punches and kicks as he forced himself on me. When it was over, I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling with cold, dead eyes. Austin smiled, running a hand through my messy hair. “Once you’re pregnant, I’ll think about letting you outside.” He took my phone, my wallet, and my keys. He even checked the window locks, making sure there was no way for me to escape our twelfth-floor apartment. Then, humming a tune, he walked into the kitchen to make lunch. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Thinking it was Chloe returning from her morning walk, Austin opened the door. Two stern-faced police officers stood on the threshold, presenting their badges. “Mr. Austin Miller? We received a report of domestic abuse and unlawful confinement. Step aside, please.”

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The wedding ceremony had already begun, but my groom, Ethan, was still in a corner with my best friend, Harper, discussing data from their latest lab experiment. Anxious and embarrassed, I pulled Ethan’s arm, trying to drag him toward the stage. “Ethan, the ceremony has started. Everyone is waiting.” “What?” Ethan muttered, his eyes still fixed on his tablet. “The wedding…” Before I could even finish, Ethan cut me off. “I wasn’t talking to you.” He turned back to Harper without missing a beat. “What did you say the parameters were for the second trial?” Harper gave me a condescending pat on the shoulder and whispered, “Chloe, we’re talking about a major scientific breakthrough here. Just go out there and handle the guests for now. It’s just a wedding. Worst case, we can always throw you another one later.” With that, the two of them dove back into a rapid-fire exchange of scientific jargon that sounded like gibberish to me. Getting more excited by the minute, they completely ignored me and the hundreds of staring guests. Suddenly, they stood up, knocked over the champagne tower, and rushed out the door to the lab. The glass shattered. Champagne soaked the train of my white dress. I was left standing on the stage alone, a complete mess. But this time, I wasn’t going to clean up their mess. Host another wedding? No, thank you. Being the “prodigy’s” bride? I quit.

Ethan and Harper had been geniuses since they were kids. I was always just the tagalong. After college, they both became lead researchers at a prestigious biotech institute. And me? I was just the receptionist at the front desk of that very same institute. The three of us rented a house together. But in reality, I was their live-in maid. I did their laundry, cooked their meals, and was forever excluded from their intellectual conversations. I drove home alone from my abandoned wedding. At 2:00 AM, the front door finally clicked open. Ethan and Harper walked in, laughing and talking loudly, completely uncaring that they had just woken me up. “See, Ethan! I told you we needed to adjust the parameters my way! I was totally right!” Ethan playfully pinched Harper’s cheek, a competitive smirk on his lips. “You just got lucky, babe.” When they saw me standing in the hallway, Ethan casually tossed his dirty jacket onto the floor. “Chloe, throw our clothes in the wash, will you?” he said, not even looking at me. “And make us some pasta. Harper is starving.” He didn’t care at all about how the wedding had ended. He didn’t ask how I got home. “I’m tired,” I said coldly. It was the first time in our seven-year relationship that I had ever said no to him. Ethan froze, clearly surprised. Harper nudged his shoulder with her elbow, rolling her eyes. “Oh, Ethan, you idiot! Your EQ is literally rock bottom. Can’t you see Chloe is throwing a tantrum?” “You ignored her for the experiment today. She’s mad!” She lightly pinched Ethan’s chest and laughed. “Alright, alright! I punished him for you, Chloe. Stop being mad, bestie!” Ethan groaned, rubbing his temples in annoyance. “Chloe, we’ve been working in the lab for twelve hours straight. Can you please not make a scene?” “It’s just a wedding. How could that ever be more important than our research? Honestly, no one cares about weddings except the bride.” “We’ll throw you a better one later.” But this wasn’t the first time. Two years ago, during our graduation trip, I waited at an international airport for seven hours because Ethan and Harper got “too caught up” in a simulation. A year ago, at our engagement party, Harper called Ethan away because of an “instrument malfunction,” leaving me to apologize to eighty guests on my own. Over the past six months, I had scheduled four appointments at the courthouse for our marriage license. Ethan stood me up every time. Every time, his excuse was the same: the lab needed him. In their world of science, everything about me was completely trivial. “What do you mean, ‘just a wedding’?” I whispered. But my question went completely unheard. They were already huddled over a stack of papers on the kitchen island, lost in their own world again. Back then, everyone envied me. They said my fiancé and my best friend were brilliant. But I was done being a ghost in my own life.

Quietly, I opened my phone. I submitted my resume to a few open positions in Chicago and bought a one-way train ticket. The next morning, Seattle was hit by a massive storm. The rain was pouring down in sheets. I ran downstairs, hoping to catch a ride to work with Ethan. Ethan was starting his Audi, talking animatedly with Harper, who was sitting in the passenger seat. I tapped frantically on the rain-streaked window, but he didn’t even turn his head. He stepped on the gas and drove off. “Ethan, wait!” I chased the car for a few steps, slipped on the wet asphalt, and fell hard, scraping my elbow. The car didn’t stop. Whenever Harper was around, Ethan became completely blind to my existence. I wiped the blood and mud off my arm with a tissue and dragged myself to the subway station. By the time I reached the institute, I was late. Ethan and Harper walked past the reception desk. When Ethan saw me, the smile slid off his face, replaced by a deep scowl. “Is this how you do your job? Do you know what time it is?” “Why didn’t you wait for me this morning?” I asked, struggling to keep my voice steady. Before Ethan could answer, Harper chimed in. “Oh, Chloe, don’t blame Ethan. You don’t work in research, so you don’t get it. Every second in the lab is crucial. We literally don’t have time to waste waiting around.” She patted my shoulder with a patronizing smile. Ethan sighed, looking at me like I was a difficult child. “You knew it was raining. Why didn’t you leave earlier?” “Since we were kids, I’ve told you to be more disciplined. Why can’t you ever listen?” “I don’t expect you to be a genius like Harper, but is it really that hard to just be a receptionist?” But when Harper forgot her purse, Ethan would patiently wait for her for an hour, laughing and calling her “a genius in the lab, but a clumsy little princess in real life.” At that moment, I lost all desire to argue. Suddenly, Ethan took a sharp step back, pretending he didn’t know me. Another colleague was walking by. Ethan had always insisted we keep our relationship “strictly professional” at work to avoid gossip. But the passing colleague stopped and smirked at Ethan and Harper. “Oh, look! Dr. Miller and Dr. Vance! The golden couple of our institute is arriving together again!” “Did you guys have a sweet little breakfast date before work?” I kept my head down, feeling completely numb. At the institute, everyone thought Ethan and Harper were the perfect match. Childhood sweethearts, both Ivy League PhDs, the rising stars of the biotech world. Then, the colleague gasped. “Who said Dr. Miller doesn’t know how to pamper a girl? Harper, is that the new seasonal Chanel bag? That’s almost impossible to get!” I looked up and froze. The bag on Harper’s shoulder was beautiful. I had mentioned that exact bag to Ethan months ago. He had gone online and bought me a cheap, knock-off brand instead, telling me he was “too busy to research designer bags.” Yet, the authentic, limited-edition Chanel bag was hanging on Harper’s arm. “Hey, receptionist,” the colleague barked, snapping her fingers in front of my face. “Can’t you see Dr. Miller and Dr. Vance are discussing work? Go make some coffee. Show some initiative.” I snapped out of my daze, swallowing the bitterness in my throat. “On it,” I murmured, rushing to the breakroom. But as I was serving the hot coffee, Harper got overly excited during their discussion. She flung her arm out, knocking the cup straight out of my hand. The scalding liquid spilled down my arm and onto my shirt. The pain made me gasp, my face turning white. Ethan immediately shoved me aside and grabbed Harper’s hands, panic in his eyes. “Harper! Are you okay? Did it burn you?” Once he was sure she was untouched, he quickly wiped down the documents on the table, checking every page. Only then did he look up at me, his voice dripping with anger.

“Can’t you even serve coffee properly? Do you have any idea how important her hands are for our experiments?” “Oh, Ethan, stop. Are you worried about me or the data?” Harper teased, pretending to be annoyed. Then, she noticed my arm, which was already blistering. She let out a soft gasp. “Oh my gosh, Chloe is really burned! Ethan, go get the burn cream!” Ethan finally frowned, pulling my arm over to inspect it. Seeing that no one else was watching, he gently blew on the burn and whispered, “Does it hurt? Hold on, I’ll grab the first aid kit for you.” But I never got that cream. As soon as Ethan turned around, Harper dragged him into the cleanroom, and he completely forgot about me. After shivering in the storm and getting burned, I developed a raging fever by the afternoon. Maybe because I looked like death, Ethan did something he never did. He wrapped up his work early and offered to drive me home. My head was pounding. I decided that tonight, I would tell him the truth. The wedding was off, and I was leaving. Halfway home, Harper suddenly gasped, looking at her phone. “Ethan, pull over! Dr. Hayes is giving a surprise guest lecture at UW tonight! It’s about our exact research model!” Ethan’s eyes lit up. “We can’t miss this.” Then, he hesitated, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. “But… Chloe is sick. Maybe I should drop her off first?” He checked the dashboard clock. “No, traffic is terrible because of the storm. We’ll be late if we detour.” “Chloe, you need to get out here and call an Uber. Don’t worry, we’ll come home right after the lecture to take care of you.” Before I could even stand steady on the wet curb, the black Audi sped away into the rain. With a 103-degree fever, I nearly fainted on the sidewalk. It took me two hours to get home, soaking wet and shivering. The sink was still piled high with dishes from the weekend. Our “genius scientists” were too busy to do chores, so everything fell on me. Once, I had asked Harper to help me hang the laundry. Ethan had screamed at me for hours, accusing me of “exploiting a brilliant mind for menial labor.” Whatever. I was leaving anyway. I ignored the messy house and collapsed onto the couch. My phone buzzed. By some cruel twist of algorithms, Instagram recommended a live stream of the UW lecture Ethan and Harper were attending. The technical jargon meant nothing to me. But during the Q&A session, Ethan and Harper walked up to the microphone together, holding hands. They looked like a power couple. The crowd in the auditorium started teasing them. The host smiled and asked, “Are you two a couple?” Harper grinned proudly. “Yes, we’ve been classmates since preschool. We even share the exact same research focus.” A student in the crowd shouted, “You guys are so lucky! It must be amazing to have a partner who truly understands your mind!” Harper nodded warmly. “Absolutely. If you’re looking for love, make sure you find someone who walks the same path as you.” Ethan spoke into the mic, his voice firm and clear. “I agree. Never tie yourself down to someone who is just a drag on your life.” A drag. I let out a bitter laugh. Ethan and Harper both had mild Asperger’s, which they used as an excuse to ignore basic life skills. In elementary school, they didn’t know how to tie their shoes. I was the one who knelt down to do it. In high school, they couldn’t navigate public transit. I held their hands and guided them. In college, I cleaned their dorms and took care of them when they were sick. To support my fiancé and my best friend, I had entirely sacrificed my own life. And in return, I was just “a drag.” By that night, they were trending on local social media.

People posted their report cards from elementary school, their matching SAT scores, and their joint Ivy League publications. They were a match made in heaven. But in the corner of every old photo, there was always a tiny, blurry figure. Me. I closed my eyes and shut off my phone. The people who promised to “come right home and take care of me” never returned that night. The next morning, I wrote my resignation letter and walked into the institute. The moment I entered, the atmosphere was suffocating. “Chloe isn’t even that pretty. How dare she try to steal Ethan?” “Right? I saw the video. She literally forced her way into Dr. Miller’s car yesterday.” “Yeah, but she got kicked out halfway! So embarrassing!” I opened WhatsApp and saw a leaked video in the company group chat. It showed me getting into Ethan’s car yesterday, looking desperate, while Ethan looked cold and annoyed. I looked like a pathetic stalker trying to force myself onto a taken man. Just as I was about to type a message to clarify our relationship, Ethan posted in the group chat first. “Chloe is just our roommate. She is also Harper’s friend. Please respect her privacy.” With that one message, the office’s contempt for me solidified. “How shameless. Trying to steal her best friend’s guy while living under their roof.” I felt ice in my veins. I marched into Ethan’s office and confronted him. “Why didn’t you tell them I’m your fiancée? Why did you call me a roommate?” Ethan closed his eyes, his voice utterly cold. “What did you want me to say, Chloe? Everyone in the industry thinks Harper and I are together!” “If I deny it, what will they think of Harper? Do you have any idea how much gossip that would start?” “We just need to keep our distance at work from now on.” “Once we host the actual wedding and invite our colleagues, the truth will come out naturally.” So, he did understand how damaging rumors could be. He wasn’t incapable of empathy; he just saved all of his empathy for Harper. But it didn’t matter. There was never going to be another wedding. My last day at the institute was a night shift. Close to midnight, the building’s fire alarms suddenly wailed. A thick, black smoke began pouring under the door. Fire! The fire had started on the second floor and was spreading rapidly. Within seconds, the smoke was suffocating me. Flames burst through the hallway, searing my arm. I collapsed near the exit, gasping for air. Through my fading vision, I saw someone burst through the smoke with a fire extinguisher. It was Ethan. “Ethan… I’m here…” Pain and terror surged through me. I reached out with the last of my strength, grabbing the hem of his jeans like a drowning person clutching a lifeline. But he didn’t even look down. “Harper! Where are you?!” he screamed, his voice raw with panic. Before I lost consciousness, all I heard was him screaming her name. … I woke up in a sterile hospital room. The burns on my neck and arm were throbbing with agonizing pain. Every tiny movement felt like needles in my flesh. “It hurts…” I whispered. Seeing Ethan sitting by my bed, a wave of grief washed over me. The pain of being abandoned in the fire made tears spill over my cheeks. “Why didn’t you look at me?” My voice cracked.

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Everyone said my husband, Liam, was the luckiest bastard alive. That was because he had an older brother, Mason, who was always there to clean up his messes. On our wedding day, Liam threw a wild bachelor party with his childhood best friend, Scarlett, and overslept. It was Mason who drove over to pick me up and walked me down the aisle. Right before I went into labor, Liam flew to Africa with Scarlett for a safari trip. It was Mason who stayed outside the delivery room, holding my hand and taking care of me. Even after we got married, Liam kept living his life like a carefree bachelor, partying and fooling around. Until our daughter Lily’s first birthday party. Lily took a few wobbly steps, ran straight past Liam, threw her tiny arms around Mason’s leg, and babbled, “Daddy!” That was the exact moment Liam finally panicked. He snatched Lily out of Mason’s arms, holding her tightly as he desperately tried to correct her. “Say Daddy, sweetie. I’m your daddy.” I immediately stepped in and took my daughter back. Lily was shaking, huge tears rolling down her chubby cheeks. “You’re scaring her, Liam. Lily is shy around strangers. She hates being held by people she doesn’t know.”

Liam’s face twisted with frustration. But Lily’s face was already flushed from crying. He had no choice but to let me take her. The second she was back in my arms, Lily buried her head in my shoulder, clearly rejecting him. Scarlett, who was standing nearby, laughed mockingly. “Well, Liam, looks like you’re out of the picture. Honestly, Chloe, Lily, and Mason look way more like a real family than you do.” Liam’s expression darkened instantly. “Shut up if you don’t have anything nice to say,” he snapped. “The baby only did that because she hasn’t seen me in a while.” Lily, who had just peeked her head up out of curiosity, was startled by his loud, angry voice. She burst into an even louder, more heartbreaking sob. Mason frowned at Liam. He set his whiskey glass down and walked over. “Daddy… hold me…” As soon as Lily saw his familiar face, she stretched out her chubby little arms, begging Mason to carry her. Mason naturally took her from me. Within seconds, he had her giggling, showing off her tiny baby teeth. Liam’s face looked darker than a stormy night. On the drive home, he suddenly spoke up. “From now on, keep Lily away from Mason.” I frowned. “The nanny has tomorrow off, and I have an urgent meeting at my studio. If Mason doesn’t help, who’s going to take Lily to her toddler class?” Liam straightened his back and cleared his throat. “Uh, it’s just a toddler class. I’m her father. I can take her.” I stared at him, stunned. “Lily is still too young. If she goes to a strange place without someone she’s comfortable with, she’ll scream the whole time. Besides, tomorrow is Monday. Aren’t you supposed to go hiking with Scarlett?” Hiking on Mondays was a sacred ritual between him and Scarlett. Scarlett firmly believed that hiking to the top of the mountain on Monday mornings to watch the sunrise brought good luck for the rest of the week. So, rain or shine, Liam had accompanied her every single week. Because of this ridiculous ritual, he had missed countless important milestones in our life. I was just stating the facts, but Liam clearly misread my tone. He looked me up and down. Then, he let out a soft chuckle and reached over to ruffle my hair. “Look at you, still getting jealous even after becoming a mom. You’re just mad because I haven’t been spending enough time with you two, aren’t you?” I frowned, pulling away. I had stopped caring about him a long time ago. Jealous? Please. But Liam was completely convinced of his own theory. “Alright, fine. I admit I haven’t been the most present father since Lily was born. I’ll text Scarlett later and let her know I’m taking Lily to her class tomorrow.” I wanted to say no. Lily got extremely anxious in unfamiliar environments. If Liam was the only one with her, she would probably cry until she fainted. But then again, he was her father. He had the right to be there. I sighed. Whatever. I would just delegate the studio work to my assistant and go with them.

Halfway through my shower, I heard Lily’s faint cries coming from the nursery. The nanny had already gone home. Liam was the only one out there. “Liam! What’s wrong with Lily?” I yelled his name several times, but got no response. Not even bothering to rinse the soap off, I grabbed a robe, threw it on, and rushed out to scoop Lily up. “Why is she so burning hot?” Liam, who had promised to watch her sleep so I could take a relaxing shower, was nowhere to be found. There was only Lily, crying hysterically, her skin burning to the touch. She must have gotten startled earlier today, and with her cold from last week not fully gone, the fever had flared up again. My heart ached as I tried to soothe her. I wanted Liam to drive us to the hospital immediately. But after searching the entire house, he was gone. I picked up my phone, only to see a Snapchat message from him: “Chloe, something urgent came up at the office. I saw Lily was sleeping peacefully, so I didn’t want to wake you. Go to bed early after your shower. I’ll pick Lily up for her class tomorrow morning.” A wave of fury washed over me, nearly scorching my sanity. He went to the office? The man didn’t visit his family’s company more than three times a year. What could possibly be so urgent that it required his presence at midnight?! But right now, Lily was the priority. I took a few deep breaths, forcing my emotions down. The housekeeper and the driver had already left for the night. Frantic, I bundled Lily up in warm clothes and prepared to call an Uber. Just as I opened the front door, I ran into Mason, who was holding a bag of medicine. He had been worried that Lily’s cold might worsen after crying so much today. He couldn’t shake the worry, so he had bought some baby fever reducers to drop off. He hadn’t expected to find me rushing out. “Chloe, what’s wrong?” My voice cracked with panic. “Mason, we need to go to the hospital! Lily has a high fever, and I’m the only adult here!” Hearing this, Mason immediately took Lily from my arms and ran toward his car. He ran several red lights and got us to the emergency room in record time. The ER doctor was absolutely furious with us. “How are you guys running this household? The baby’s fever is almost 104 degrees, and you’re only bringing her in now?!” I guiltily rocked Lily, who had cried herself hoarse. Meanwhile, Mason ran around paying the bills, filling out forms, and getting the medication. By the time the fever finally broke and Lily drifted off to sleep, it was past 3:00 AM. Only then did I have a moment to thank Mason. “Mason, thank you so much. I’m sorry to drag you into our mess again.” There was exhaustion in Mason’s eyes, but he still smiled warmly to comfort me. “Don’t thank me, Chloe. Even if Lily weren’t my niece, you’re still the girl I watched grow up. It’s my job to look after you both.” “Get some rest. Her IV drip is almost done. I’ll go grab the nurse to take the needle out.” Right after Mason stepped out of the room, my phone buzzed. It was a notification from our Snapchat group chat. Scarlett had tagged me. “Chloe, you’re not actually mad, are you? The guys and I joke around like this all the time. If it bothers you, I won’t do it again.” Immediately after, Liam sent a voice note to the group: “Did you hear that, Chloe? Scarlett is already apologizing. Drop the attitude.” Frowning, I scrolled up to see what they were talking about. Two hours ago, Scarlett had posted a video in the group and tagged me: “Liam lost a drinking game, so now he has to call me ‘Mommy’ for the night. Don’t worry, Chloe, it’s just for tonight. I’ll return him to you tomorrow.” The video was set in a dimly lit, noisy VIP booth at a club. Scarlett had her arm draped around Liam’s shoulder, teasing him. “You lost the bet, baby! Call me Mommy! If you do it nicely, Mommy might buy you another round to sober you up!” The friends holding the cameras and Liam’s frat-boy buddies let out loud, obnoxious cheers and catcalls in the background. Mason, who had just walked back in with the nurse, caught a glimpse of my phone screen. His brow furrowed deeply, his eyes flashing with disappointment. “Liam is getting entirely out of hand. Chloe, don’t worry. I will deal with him tomorrow.” I shook my head, feeling completely numb. “Don’t bother. At the end of the day, it’s my fault. I knew how irresponsible he was, yet I still left our daughter with him.” My marriage to Liam wasn’t just about the two of us; it was a strategic merger of the Bennett and Sinclair families. We couldn’t just get a divorce over “minor” issues like this. Since a divorce would cause too much chaos for both families, there was no point in throwing a tantrum. Right now, I only cared about Lily. As for Liam… to me, he was just a man I occasionally shared a bed with. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” The next morning, I was jarred awake by Liam’s furious, booming voice.

I opened my eyes only to realize that I had fallen asleep resting my head on Mason’s shoulder. Mason was asleep too, his head leaning against mine. We looked incredibly intimate. Last night, the pediatric ward had been completely full, so Lily had to stay on a cot in the hallway. It was too late to transfer her to another hospital, so Mason and I had to squeeze onto the waiting room chairs to watch over her. Mason woke up at the sound of the yell, looking momentarily flustered. “Liam, listen to me.” “Shut up!” Liam wasn’t listening. He raised his fist, aiming a punch straight at Mason’s face. I stepped in with a cold face and slapped Liam hard across the cheek. Slap! “Are you awake now? Do you know where you are? Have some respect for the patients and shut up!” Not only Liam, but even Mason stared at me in absolute shock. The fury drained from Liam’s face in an instant, replaced by a look of pathetic betrayal. “You’re acting all cozy with Mason, and now you’re slapping me because of him?” I rolled my eyes at him. “Don’t you and Scarlett touch each other all the time? Didn’t you say it was just ‘normal physical contact’ between friends?” Liam was left completely speechless. After all, those were the exact words he had used on me countless times. Feeling too guilty to press the issue, he shoved Mason aside and squeezed next to me. “I’m her father. She got sick and you didn’t even tell me? Instead, you called Mason, an outsider?” I looked at him like he was an idiot. “Running into Mason was a coincidence. Besides, you’re the one who explicitly forbade me from ‘interrupting’ your boys’ night out with Scarlett.” I didn’t care to watch his face turn pale. I turned around to check my daughter’s temperature. “Chloe, don’t be mad. I know I messed up.” Liam grabbed my wrist. “I promise, from now on, you and Lily are my number one priority.” Even his own parents wouldn’t believe a lie like that. But Lily started crying just then, saving me from having to respond to his empty promise.

For the next few days, perhaps out of guilt, Liam stayed home every day to take care of Lily. He took her to her classes, built blocks with her, fed her baby food… Their bond grew quickly. Lily started looking for him the moment she woke up. And the second Lily cried, Liam would immediately drop whatever he was doing to run to her. That day, I had an urgent matter to handle at the studio. Seeing that Lily was taking her afternoon nap, I told the nanny and Liam to watch her. Before leaving, I warned him repeatedly. “Keep her indoors, don’t let her catch a draft. And absolutely do not let her eat mangoes, peanuts, or anything she’s allergic to…” Liam nodded eagerly, promising he understood. Only then did I feel safe enough to leave. But before my meeting even ended, my phone rang. It was Liam, his voice trembling with panic. “Chloe, you need to come to the hospital right now! Lily suddenly broke out in hives and won’t stop screaming! We’re on our way to the ER!” My heart dropped. “What happened? Did she touch or eat something she shouldn’t have?” Everything in our house was carefully selected to be allergen-free, and I had listed her allergies to him a thousand times. Liam stammered over the phone. “Lily woke up and wanted to go outside. Scarlett and the guys were hosting a yacht party, and I thought it would be fun for Lily to see the ocean, so the nanny and I brought her along…” “Then the nanny went to prep her bottle, and I was holding her. But I got caught up in a card game… and when I looked over, Scarlett was feeding her mango crepe cake…” I didn’t care about the meeting anymore. I grabbed my keys and ran to the parking lot. By the time I rushed into the ER, Lily’s condition had stabilized. She looked so tiny on the hospital bed. The bruises on her forehead from her previous IV drip hadn’t even faded yet. Now, she had a new needle in her tiny hand, tears still clinging to her eyelashes. Seeing Liam standing in the hallway, my fury boiled over. The second he opened his mouth to explain, a sharp slap echoed through the corridor. Liam’s cheek swelled up instantly. I pulled back my burning, red palm. “I warned you before I left.” “Is this how you play father?!” Liam kept his head down and didn’t say a word, but Scarlett, who was standing beside him, couldn’t hold back. “Chloe, you can’t blame Liam entirely for this.” “The kid isn’t just his. You chose to go to work and dump her on him. He has a life too.” “If you ask me, Lily is just too high-maintenance. Allergic to this, allergic to that. Plus, she’s the one who wanted to eat…” “Ow! How dare you hit me?!” Without a second thought, I slapped Scarlett across the face, looking at her with cold eyes. “Trashy new money truly has no class. Who gave an outsider like you the right to comment on my family matters?” Scarlett hated being called “new money” more than anything. Her eyes turned bloodshot, and she raised her hand to strike back. But before she could even touch my coat, Liam grabbed her arm and pushed her away. She stared at Liam in disbelief. “Why are you pushing me?! Chloe has gone insane! Didn’t you see her hit me?!” Liam didn’t defend her this time. Instead, his tone was laced with irritation. “Enough! You’re the one who couldn’t keep your mouth shut.” “Besides, who told you to feed the baby cake without asking?” Scarlett looked like she was about to explode. “I was standing up for you, and now you’re blaming me?!” A nurse came out to let us know Lily was awake. I turned and walked back into the room immediately, ignoring the two of them as they started arguing.

The moment Lily was discharged, I filed for divorce and moved back into my family’s estate. Liam finally realized I wasn’t joking. He kept showing up at my door, begging to talk. I refused to see him, leaving all communication to my lawyer. Soon, Liam’s parents, Mike and Jennifer, found out about the situation. They wanted to see their granddaughter. I had no reason to keep Lily from her grandparents, so I brought her over to the Sinclair estate. During dinner, Liam kept hovering over me, placing food on my plate. “You love sea bass. Try this, I caught it myself yesterday.” I didn’t say a word. I just pushed the fish to the side of my plate. The dinner was incredibly awkward. Once everyone set their forks down, I was the first to speak. “Mike, Jennifer, I’m sure you both know what’s going on between Liam and me.” “You are Lily’s grandparents, and I will never stop you from seeing her. But I cannot stay married to Liam anymore.” With that, I placed the signed divorce papers on the table. Liam panicked, instantly grabbing my hand. “Chloe, I was wrong. I really was. I was careless and stupid last time. You can hit me, you can yell at me, but please don’t divorce me. I’m changing, aren’t I?” “I’ve made up my mind to be a good husband and father to you and Lily!” Mike and Jennifer also chimed in, trying to persuade me. “Chloe, dear, Liam really knows he messed up. He’s cut off all those bad influences these past few days.” “And Lily is still so small. How are you going to raise her all by yourself if you get a divorce?” My face remained calm. Their words didn’t move me at all. “Mike, Jennifer, my mind is made up. Please don’t try to convince me.” “Lily grew up healthy before without Liam’s involvement. She’ll be just fine in the future.” I stood up, taking Lily from Mason, who had remained silent the entire evening. “Lily, say goodbye to everyone.” Seeing that I was truly leaving, Liam’s eyes turned red, and he dropped to his knees right in front of me. “Please don’t go. I can’t lose you and Lily. If you’re mad about Scarlett, I’ll block her right now.” “Stand up, Liam. I’m going to show everyone what kind of woman Chloe Bennett really is today.” Before he could finish, Scarlett burst into the dining room, pushing past the security guards. She threw a stack of documents onto the dining table. The DNA test results were glaringly obvious. She pointed at me, her voice trembling with excitement. “Lily isn’t even Liam’s daughter. She is the bastard child Chloe had from sleeping around with Mason.”

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When I was seven months pregnant, I went to the baby boutique to pick out some supplies for my unborn child. Peering through the shelves, I froze. My husband, Frank, was leaning over, gently brushing a stray lock of hair from a strange woman’s forehead. “Do you know Mr. and Mrs. Byres too?” The sales assistant asked casually, her head down as she scanned my items. “Honestly, everyone envies Mrs. Byres. They’ve been married for three years, and Mr. Byres has never had a single scandal.” “They were high school sweethearts, and now they have a son and a daughter. They’re the ultimate power couple.” I gripped the edge of the counter, my knuckles turning white. A son and a daughter? A power couple? But the “Mr. Byres” she was talking about was my husband—the man who told me he was an orphan! Seeing my pale face, the sales assistant asked suspiciously, “Do you actually know Frank Byres?” She looked me up and down, her eyes lingering on my cheap, oversized maternity dress. A flash of contempt crossed her face. “If you have any dirty ideas about him, I suggest you forget them.” “Mr. Byres is a devoted family man. He wouldn’t even look at a woman like you.” She shoved the shopping cart forward, pushing me back. I instinctively covered my belly, trembling. Then, I heard her whisper sneeringly to another cashier: “Look at her. Her eyes are practically glued to Mr. Byres. She probably wants to be his side chick.” “With that cheap look, who knows if she even knows who her baby’s real father is.” A side chick? I stood there, paralyzed, unable to speak. Just this morning, before Frank left, he had kissed me gently on the forehead. He told me his company was swamped and asked me to rest at home. But could two people in this world really look so identical? Down to the exact same scar at the corner of his left eye? Frank told me he got that scar from a fall when he was a kid. If he already had a family, a wife, and children… Why did he marry me? Why did he tell me he loved me? He had turned me into a disgusting, cheap mistress in everyone else’s eyes. I wanted to run over and demand answers. I had told him my story. My mother took her own life after being abandoned as a rich man’s mistress. I, Audrey, would rather marry a beggar than ever become someone’s side piece. Why did he lie to me? Suddenly, a wave of dizziness hit me. My foot slipped, and I almost fell to the floor. Hearing the commotion, Frank turned around. His eyes widened when he saw me, and he rushed over. “Audrey! Oh my god, are you okay? Why are you so careless?” Panic was written all over his face. He held me tight, trying to soothe me. But the expensive, tailored black suit he was wearing was definitely not the cheap work uniform he wore when he left this morning. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m taking you to the hospital right now.” I grabbed his wrist, my voice cracking. “Frank, are you hiding something from me?” At my words, panic flashed through his eyes. “What are you talking about, babe?” “Did you misunderstand something?” His eyes darted away, but he quickly recovered his composure. “That woman, Mrs. Byres, is just a client. We ran into each other and chatted for a bit.” “I didn’t expect you to see us. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have let you misunderstand.” “I promise this will never happen again.” Frank looked so sincere, his voice so steady. I looked past his shoulder. The elegant “Mrs. Byres” stood there quietly, showing no intention of arguing. If they were really husband and wife, she wouldn’t just stand there in silence, right? Before I could think further, Frank lifted me in his arms and rushed toward the hospital. Dazed, I remembered that he had held me just like this when we first met. Back then, my mother had just committed suicide. My greedy uncle was trying to force me to marry a creepy sixty-year-old man to pay off his debts. I did everything I could to escape. Frank was the one who rescued me from the rain, paid my hospital bills, and gave me a place to stay. He told me his parents were dead, his relatives had stolen his inheritance, and he was working hard to build a life from scratch. We fell in love in a tiny, cramped rental apartment. Even though he was broke, he was polite and intelligent, and he eventually got a decent job at a firm. I had my doubts, but I never pushed him. Until the day he knelt down with a ring. “I swear to God, Audrey, I will cherish you forever.” He privately arranged our marriage license and took care of all the paperwork. After we got married, he handed his entire salary over to me. Every time he came home, he brought me little gifts—chocolates, pastries, or a single rose. He loved me so deeply. How could it all be a lie? At the hospital, the doctor looked at my ultrasound and wrote a prescription. Then, he smiled at the anxious Frank. “Both mother and baby are fine. She just needs bed rest.” Frank let out a long, ragged breath and gently touched my swollen belly. “Thank God you guys are okay.” He crouched down, pressing his face against my stomach, whispering softly: “Hey, little one, be good. Don’t stress your mommy out.” I saw tears glistening in the corners of his eyes. Frank had been nothing but good to me. He was my savior. I thought to myself, maybe the store clerk was wrong. Maybe she just saw Frank standing next to Mrs. Byres and assumed they were married. I shouldn’t doubt him. Relieved, I went home to rest. But the next morning, right after Frank left, our front door was violently kicked open. I rushed to the living room and saw yesterday’s “Mrs. Byres” walking in with a group of burly men.

Faced with these aggressive strangers, I panicked. The nanny Frank hired to take care of me was so terrified she shrank behind my back. I tried to keep my voice steady. “Mrs. Byres, we don’t know each other. What is the meaning of this?” The elegant woman from yesterday was gone. Today, her eyes were filled with pure disgust. She sneered, and one of her guards stepped forward, pointing at my face. “You shameless bitch, you have the nerve to ask?” “Our gracious Mrs. Byres is here to take you to the estate so you can have your baby there.” I didn’t understand what she meant. I refused politely. “Thank you, but we are strangers. I cannot accept your invitation.” “Besides, I’m heavily pregnant and it’s not safe for me to move. Please leave.” The moment the words left my mouth, the guard slapped me across the face. Smack! “You trashy little mistress!” the guard spat. “Using your pregnancy to guilt-trip us? Are you trying to make Mrs. Byres look bad?” “Mrs. Byres is the only legal wife of the Byres family. Your kid is just a bastard. Don’t think you can compete with her.” I stumbled back, clutching my burning cheek. The nanny caught me before I hit the floor. Nyla Adler smiled mockingly at my misery. She walked over slowly, tilting my chin up with her manicured finger. “How pathetic. Frank hasn’t told you the truth, has he?” “Let me tell you. I am Frank’s real wife.” She told me Frank was the sole heir of the billionaire Byres empire. And she was Nyla, the youngest daughter of the powerful Adler family. Their families had arranged their marriage when they were kids. They were a match made in heaven. Nyla spoke so casually, but my heart sank into a dark abyss. Suddenly, all of Frank’s weird behavior made sense. But no matter what, I couldn’t go with her. I, Audrey, had my pride. If Frank really lied to me, I would rather get an abortion and run away again than stay and be humiliated as a rich man’s plaything. I yelled, “I don’t believe you! I want to ask him myself!” “If you’re his real wife, why are you afraid of letting me talk to him?” Nyla’s face tightened. A flicker of panic crossed her eyes, and she barked, “Tie her up and throw her in the car! Now!” Seeing the guards close in, I screamed at the neighbors who were watching from the hallway. “Help me! Please! I don’t know these people!” “Call the police! Or call Frank! Please!” But the neighbors who usually smiled and helped me carry groceries now just watched with cold, mocking eyes. They gossiped in hushed, disgusted tones. “I knew she was too pretty to be decent. Turns out she’s just a rich man’s side chick.” “And here I was, helping her with her trash because she’s pregnant. How disgusting.” “Mrs. Byres is too nice. If I were her, I’d have beaten this homewrecker to death already.” The guards slammed me onto the floor, pinning my arms behind my back. Hearing the neighbors’ cruel words, a wave of intense shame washed over me. I screamed desperately at them, “You all saw us! We had a small wedding in the backyard! You were there!” “Frank is an orphan! How could he be some billionaire heir?” But nobody listened. “Please! What kind of real wedding has no guests and no priest?” “We all knew Frank looked too noble to be a regular guy.” “You lived with him and never noticed? You were just a kept woman, sweetie. Stop lying to yourself.” My body went cold. Every sweet memory of Frank turned into a mockery. Was everything a lie? In my despair, I saw a familiar figure walking down the street below. It was Beasley, Frank’s colleague. He had been to our apartment for drinks. He could prove my innocence!

I struggled with all my might, screaming out of the window: “Beasley! Beasley! Help me!” Beasley looked up, shocked. “Audrey? What’s going on? Who are these people?” He rushed up the stairs, yelling at the guards holding me, “Let her go!” “What do you think you’re doing to her in broad daylight?” A wave of relief washed over me. I almost cried. “Beasley knows me. He can prove who I am!” I glared at Nyla. “Even if you’re a Byres, you have no right to kidnap me!” “I am not a mistress! Tell your men to let me go!” But Nyla didn’t panic. She smiled at Beasley. “Beasley, what did you just call her?” “I didn’t know you were so brave, defending my husband’s little toy.” Beasley’s face went pale. The anger on his face instantly vanished, replaced by sheer terror. “Mrs. Byres… I didn’t know you were here…” He stepped closer to Nyla, lowering his voice. “Please, don’t lower yourself to her level.” My heart froze. I felt like I was plunging into an icy lake. Frank… Oh, Frank. Did you have terrible friends, or was this a giant trap from the very beginning? Beasley whispered to Nyla, trying to please her: “She’s just a bird Frank kept in a cage. Why bother coming here yourself?” “If Frank actually cared about her, he wouldn’t let her live in this crappy apartment without any security, right?” He pointed at the terrified nanny. “If you just turn a blind eye, Frank will appreciate your generosity. There’s no need to ruin your reputation over a girl like her.” I ignored his insults and asked in a trembling voice, “Is Frank… Frank Byres?” “Is he really married?” Beasley avoided my eyes and nodded slowly. Nyla laughed triumphantly. “Now do you see who you are?” “A cheap mistress trying to raise her voice at me. How pathetic.” I was never a submissive girl. If I were, I wouldn’t have escaped my uncle’s house. I struggled like a wild animal, completely ignoring the pain in my stomach. “I won’t be a mistress! Even if he is a billionaire, I don’t want him!” “I want to hear it from him! If he lied to me, I will leave! I won’t get in your way!” Nyla sneered. “Do you think I’m stupid? You’re just playing hard to get.” “Like it or not, you are coming to the Byres estate today. If you don’t walk, my men will drag you.” The guards lunged at me again. Beasley tried to stop them gently. “Easy on her, she’s carrying Frank’s baby.” A trace of annoyance flashed in Nyla’s eyes, but she waved her hand. The guards gagged me, tied my hands, and threw me into the back of a black SUV. My tears flowed silently. My heart was completely shattered.

The bumpy ride made my stomach hurt. “She doesn’t know her place. Mrs. Byres came personally to fetch her, and she still put on a show,” a maid in the front seat complained. Another maid chimed in, “Once she’s in the estate, she’ll have to serve Mrs. Byres. Once the baby is born, she’ll be kicked out anyway.” “She’s ambitious, though. Claiming she doesn’t want to be a mistress? She’s probably dreaming of Frank divorcing his wife for her.” “Please! She’s just a temporary toy for Mr. Byres.” Hearing their twisted words, my chest tightened, and I could barely breathe. I closed my eyes, letting the tears fall. I don’t know how long passed before the SUV stopped. I was dragged out and pushed into the grand lobby of the massive Byres estate. When I looked up, I saw another familiar face. Frank’s sister. She was here too. Everything became crystal clear. Louise Byres stared at me, frozen in shock. Just last week, she had visited my small apartment, bringing a pile of baby toys. She had patiently explained all the pregnancy do’s and don’ts, saying Frank had asked her to look after me. Back then, Frank told me he was worried because it was my first pregnancy, so he asked his “married friend Louise” to help. Now, all that kindness turned into a knife stabbing my chest. Louise finally snapped out of it. She pulled Nyla aside and whispered angrily: “Why did you bring her here?” “If she stays outside, her baby is just an illegitimate bastard. You have two kids; she’s no threat to you.” “If Frank finds out, he’ll be furious! Send her back!” She was planning for Nyla’s sake. I clenched my fists, hoping she would convince Nyla to let me go. “You misunderstand, Louise,” Nyla said smoothly. “No matter what, she’s carrying Frank’s blood. He belongs in this house.” “If Frank really loves this baby, I can just adopt it and raise it as my own.” Nyla’s words silenced Louise instantly. Louise could only turn to the guards and say weakly, “Audrey is pregnant. Tell them to be gentle with her.” How hilarious. Just like Beasley, she only cared about the baby, but she wouldn’t actually help me. One was his sister, the other his best friend. They had both played me like a fool. I shook with anger. I wanted to rip their hypocritical faces off. Nyla squeezed my chin, her voice cold. “Hear that? I’m doing you a favor.” “Now, let’s go greet Mother.” She ordered the guards to drag me into the main parlor. Frank had lied to me so deeply. He probably wouldn’t save me anyway. Or maybe, this was his plan all along. He knew I would never agree to be a mistress, so he let Nyla do the dirty work to force me into submission. Once I gave up, he would show up, play the loving husband, and beg for my forgiveness. The thought made me lose my mind. I struggled wildly. I bit Nyla’s hand, slammed my head into a guard’s chest, and kicked randomly. “Stop this! What is this chaos?!” A stern, commanding voice rang out, instantly silencing Nyla and Louise. “Mother,” Nyla murmured. A tiny spark of hope flared in my chest. I fell to my knees before the older woman. “Please help me! They kidnapped me!”

The woman standing before me was Frank’s mother, Hillary Byres. She looked elegant, wearing a massive pink diamond ring. “I know who you are,” Hillary said, looking down at me with utter disdain. “Frank’s little plaything.” Her words crushed my last bit of hope. “You seduced my son, keeping him away from his home and his legal wife.” “Nyla was kind enough to bring you here to care for you, and yet you are so ungrateful.” She snorted, and the maids immediately pinned me to the floor. My knees hit the hard marble. “Audrey, I looked into your past. You are the daughter of a mistress. No wonder you have such natural talent for ruining families.” “Normally, you wouldn’t even be allowed in my presence.” “But Nyla is merciful. She felt pity for the bastard in your womb. Do you understand?” Hillary looked at me like I was a piece of trash. I laughed, a sound filled with pure despair. “Do you think I want to be in your disgusting family? I don’t!” “Frank lied to me with a fake identity! You failed to raise your son properly! Your family ruined my life!” “Shut her mouth!” Hillary screamed, slamming her hand on the armrest. “How dare you! Slap her!” Louise jumped in, “Mother, she’s pregnant with Frank’s child!” But Hillary cut her off coldly: “Nyla gave us a son and a daughter. The Byres family does not need a bastard from a trashy street girl!” A heavy slap landed on my face. The maid didn’t stop. The slaps kept coming, burning my skin. Nyla smiled triumphantly. Louise turned her face away. My ears buzzed. I could barely hear anything. Through the haze, someone forced a cup of scalding tea into my hands. “Apologize to Mrs. Byres right now!” The burning pain in my hands brought me back. I sneered and threw the boiling tea straight at Hillary. Hillary screamed as the hot water splashed on her designer clothes. The room fell into chaos. Nyla’s eyes flashed with rage. “You bitch! How dare you attack Hillary!” “Beat her!” The guards grabbed me, but suddenly, one of them froze. “Mrs. Byres… She’s… she’s bleeding.” A sharp, stabbing pain shot through my abdomen. Warm liquid flowed down my legs. My baby… was leaving me? Maybe it was for the best. Without the baby, I would have no ties to this cursed family. “Hillary said it herself! We don’t need this bastard!” Nyla snapped. “She dared to attack the matriarch. If we don’t teach her a lesson, she’ll think she owns this place!” Just then, the double doors were kicked open. “Stop! Touch her and I’ll kill you!” Frank had finally arrived.

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My brother, Pierre, hated me since we were kids. He never let me call him Pierre. He called me a curse, saying I killed his mother. The day I was murdered, I called him crying: “Pierre, please save me. I’m so scared.” He didn’t reply until Helena’s birthday party was over: “I hope you’re actually kidnapped. I hope you die right now.” Then he blocked me. The killer smiled as he slit my throat. Blood splattered everywhere. “Turns out you’re just an unwanted brat. I’ll make this quick and painless for you.” Later, I heard that after my death, Pierre—the brother who hated me most—went completely gray overnight. Pierre once had a perfect, happy family. A beautiful mother, a successful father, and a wealthy household. Everything was perfect. Then, Mom got pregnant. She would stroke Pierre’s hair and say: “Pierre, when you grow up, you must protect Chris.” Little Pierre clenched his fists tightly, taking it very seriously: “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll love her forever and take good care of Chris!” Dad smiled, and Mom gently patted his head. But everything changed the day I was born.

Mom had a severe hemorrhage during childbirth. It was highly dangerous. She could have survived, but she chose to save me instead. My mom was the heiress to the James Group. She was brilliant, beautiful, and the dream of countless men. But she fell in love with my dad, who came from a poor, small town. They dated for ten years before she finally convinced Grandfather to approve of the marriage. They got married, had Pierre, and built a perfect life that everyone envied. When I was born, I was just a tiny, wrinkled baby. Dad couldn’t accept Mom’s death. He jumped from the seventeenth floor of the hospital, crashing into a bloody mess. And Pierre would stare at me in my crib night after night, trying to suppress the urge to strangle me: “Why did Mom have to die instead of you?”

By the time I was seven, I already knew I was the reason Mom died. So, I spent my life trying to make it up to Pierre. I cleaned his room every day and saved my favorite snacks for him. I saved all the allowance Grandfather gave me to buy Pierre birthday gifts. On Pierre’s birthday, I bought him an expensive toy using the money I had saved all year. He started laughing, but then he began to cry. It hurt to see him like that, so I hugged him tight: “I’m sorry, Pierre. It’s all my fault. I promise I’ll be good to you from now on.” “Mom is dead! How can you ever pay that back?” Pierre pushed me away violently. My arm hit the corner of the table, turning black and blue. Tears streamed down my face from the pain: “I’ll take care of you just like Mom did. Please don’t hate me.” Pierre didn’t say a word. He just went wild, smashing the toy I bought him against the wall: “Stop talking to me! Get out! You don’t deserve to be my sister!” But later, I saw him treasure a cheap, random gift from our cousin, Helena, for years like it was gold. Helena looked a lot like Mom in the old photos. Pierre smiled whenever he saw her. That was when I realized Pierre didn’t hate my gifts. He just hated me.

I started clumsily copying Helena. I dressed like her and talked like her. She would bend down to rescue stray cats on the street, so I did the same. I thought Pierre might like me even a little bit if I did that. But it only made him despise me more. I still remember how coldly he looked at me when I was holding a dirty stray cat: “You just make me sick.” After that, I stopped trying. I went back to being the quiet girl with thick glasses, walking with my head down at school. During my freshman year of high school, a group of popular, mean girls blocked my way in an alley: “Hey, I heard you’ve been clinging to Pierre. How can you be so shameless?” Another girl snickered: “Look at her. She’s so ugly. Where does she get the nerve?” “She’s delusional. She’s living in a fantasy world.” They surrounded me, mocking my looks. I gathered my courage and yelled back: “No! I’m not clinging to him! I’m his sister!” The girls laughed even harder: “We’ve only ever heard of his cousin, Helena. Who the hell are you?” I cried and argued with them. Just as one of them was about to slap me across the face… Pierre suddenly appeared at the entrance of the alley. For the first time in my life, I felt a wave of warmth. Pierre, did you know I was in danger? Did you come to save me? The leader of the girls saw Pierre and casually put her hand on my shoulder: “We saw this girl bothering you, so we wanted to teach her to stay away.” Pierre stood there with his hands in his pockets, looking at me coldly. I shrank back, too scared to speak. But my eyes were wide with hope. He still cares about me, right? But in the next second, my hopes were shattered. The girl next to me asked Pierre: “She says she’s your sister. Is that true?” Pierre’s cold face turned completely dark. He said coldly: “She is not my sister. I’m an only child. I don’t have a sister.” Then, he turned around and walked away without looking back, ignoring my desperate cries. I don’t remember how many times I screamed his name that day. The girls slapped me over and over again. They eventually stripped off my clothes, poured hot candle wax onto my skin, and recorded a video. In the video, my hair was a mess, my face was swollen, and my clothes were torn. They forced me to kneel and call myself a worthless piece of trash over and over.

The video went viral on the school gossip board. Everyone mocked me for being delusional and crazy. I had no family, and no friends to talk to. During that time, I buried myself in my studies. That was the only way I could forget the pain. A few times, I scored top of the class. When I told Pierre, he didn’t even frown. So, I studied even harder. When I received early admission to his university with a full scholarship, I excitedly held out the letter to him: “Pierre, look! I got into your college! We can study together again!” Pierre pushed me aside and pulled a crying Helena into his arms: “You’d better get out of my sight right now.” Helena was an only child. When she was little, she also loved following Pierre around. But Pierre adored her. He always gave her my snacks whenever she visited, and as they grew up, he spoiled her completely. Only later did I find out that the day I got my admission letter, Helena was upset because she did poorly on a minor midterm exam. Helena had posted on Instagram: “When others have nothing to eat, chewing quietly is a form of politeness.” The post was filled with pictures. The first three photos were of Pierre taking her to Disneyland to cheer her up. Disneyland—a place I had only ever dreamed of going. She wore a beautiful dress, sitting on the carousel with a radiant smile. The next three photos showed Pierre buying her tons of expensive clothes. I had actually tried one of those dresses on in secret once, but I had quietly put it back because it was too expensive. The last three were silly selfies of her and Pierre. Once, I had secretly taken a photo of Pierre’s back. But he snatched my phone and deleted everything, not caring if there were important files. I never dared to take a photo of him again. Looking at Helena’s princess-like Instagram, I gave it a like. Soon, notifications flooded in. Her friends commented below: “Wow! Pierre spoils you so much! I can’t imagine how lucky his actual sister would be!” “My only wish for my next life is to be Pierre’s sister!”

On Helena’s birthday, I received an invitation too. I was sitting in a dim cab, rushing to the hotel where the party was being held. The radio was playing the news: “A serial killer remains at large in our city. Please exercise caution when traveling, and avoid going out alone.” It was Helena’s eighteenth birthday, so Pierre threw her a massive party. Even the local media was broadcasting it live. I spent six months of my savings to buy her an elegant hair clip, hoping she’d like it. “Why aren’t you here yet? Helena’s party is about to start.” “I know you’re usually jealous of Helena, but don’t ruin her night, okay?” Pierre actually called me, but it was only to snap at me. A wave of hurt washed over me. Pierre had completely forgotten that today was my birthday, too. “No, the traffic is terrible… I’ve been waiting for a cab for half an—” “Stop making excuses. If you’re late, don’t ever bother coming back to this house.” In the background, I heard Helena’s sweet voice calling his name. Pierre hung up impatiently. It was completely dark. Looking at the traffic, I realized I’d never make it on time. I paid the driver and got out. If I ran, I might still make it. I dashed out and started running. Halfway there, I heard a whimpering kitten in the bushes. It had a broken leg. I slowed down, tore a piece of fabric from my jacket, and gently bandaged its leg. As soon as I finished, I looked up. A man’s face, twisted in a creepy smile, loomed over me. The next second, everything went black.

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My son, Harris, was throwing a massive tantrum in the middle of the store, demanding a $50 box of organic luxury strawberries. There were only twenty in the box. I bit the bullet and bought them. But as soon as we got home, he sneaked off to feed them to our dog. He didn’t even let me taste a single one. With a smug look on his face, he scoffed, “You’re spending my dad’s money anyway. How dare you try to eat my food?” I tried to reason with him, but he just rolled his eyes. “My last name is Schmidt. All the money in this house belongs to the Schmidts. You have no right to lecture me.” When my husband, Daniel Schmidt, came home, he didn’t even bother to correct Harris. Instead, he took the boy’s side immediately. “Harris is so unlucky to have such a petty, calculating mother like you!” Looking at the father-and-son duo ganging up on me, I let out a cold laugh. Yeah. A trash husband only breeds trash kids. So, I walked out. Let’s see how their perfect “loving family” holds up without me.

Over the weekend, I was strolling through Target with Harris when I saw a $30 tote bag. I thought it was spacious enough to carry all of Harris’s extra clothes and snacks for school. But the moment I pulled out my wallet to pay, Harris snatched it from my hand. He glared at me and yelled, “Stop wasting money! You don’t even work. You don’t know how hard it is to make a dollar!” His loud voice drew snickers from the people around us. “What a cute little boy, already knowing how to budget. So responsible!” someone whispered. I didn’t think too much of it at first. But when I reached for my purse again, Harris kicked my shin hard. “I told you, stop wasting my money!” I decided it was better to go home and have a proper talk with him, so I dropped the bag and dragged him out of the store. But on the way home, he saw those luxury strawberries and screamed until I bought them for $50. A few blocks later, he spotted a $200 high-end toy in a storefront window and literally threw himself onto the pavement, rolling around to force me to buy it. “I want it! Chloe has this exact toy at school. I need it too!” Chloe? I thought about it. Chloe was his classmate at preschool—a sweet little girl whose family owned a major jewelry chain. Chloe’s family was filthy rich. They owned several mansions across the city. They only bought a luxury three-bedroom apartment near the preschool just to make her commute easier. Chloe’s parents had achieved financial freedom ages ago. Sending Chloe to this regular preschool was just for her to “experience social life.” For a family like that, buying a $200 toy was like buying a pack of gum. They could build a whole private playground for their kid if they wanted to. But Daniel and I were just average corporate workers living paycheck to paycheck. To save money, I walked two miles to the discount grocery store just to clip coupons. A $200 toy was a luxury we simply couldn’t afford. Without hesitation, I refused Harris’s ridiculous demand. “No, Harris. Mommy and Daddy’s salaries can’t cover this kind of luxury.” “You just got a new toy yesterday. Let’s go home and eat the strawberries!” “How about this? When Mommy and Daddy make more money in the future, we’ll get it for you, okay?” Harris lay flat on the sidewalk, tears streaming down his face as he wailed. “No! I want it now! Chloe has it, so I should have it too!” “Why does she get everything and I get nothing? I hate you! I want it…” I absolutely despised this side of him—throwing tantrums and refusing to stop until he got his way. My blood started to boil. I clenched my fists, trying to keep my temper in check. Daniel didn’t have a college degree. He worked at a tech startup, making barely enough to cover rent. And my former 9-to-8 corporate job had made it impossible for me to take care of a toddler. For years, my parents, Marcus and Sarah, had been supporting us financially and helping me babysit Harris. But a year ago, Harris had said something that broke my parents’ hearts. He said, “Mommy’s parents aren’t my real family.” Even though I corrected him immediately, he had covered his face and stubbornly yelled, “Daddy said so! Daddy said Mommy’s parents are losers compared to Daddy’s parents!” After that, my parents packed their bags and went back to their hometown, completely washed their hands of helping us. To take care of Harris, I had to quit my stable job and take on low-paying freelance gigs just to make ends meet. I walked him to school every single day, rain or shine. And what did I get in return? Now, I just stood there, quietly watching Harris roll on the ground. He was secretly peeking at me to see if I would give in. After ten minutes of his screaming, I got bored. I turned around and walked away. Sure enough, Harris got up and quietly followed me home.

The moment we stepped inside, Harris rushed into Daniel’s arms, crying about how much he missed his “heroic dad.” Meanwhile, I had to follow behind him, picking up his dirty clothes and toys scattered all over the floor. No matter how many times I asked, neither this father nor his son would ever put their dirty laundry in the hamper. Trash on the floor, stains on the table, and constant demands for me to fetch them things… Their pickiness about food was pushing me to my absolute limit. In the scorching heat of summer, the two of them lounged on the couch, eating cold watermelon I had sliced for them, enjoying the AC. While I was sweating bullets in the kitchen, cooking their dinner. When would this life ever end? At 5:30 PM, I set the table and called them to eat. Daniel was glued to his phone, playing mobile games. He glanced at the table and let out a mocking sneer. “This is what you’re feeding us? Are you kidding me?” I looked at the table, utterly speechless. I had made pan-seared steak, lobster mac and cheese, and a fresh salmon salad. This was a high-end meal, and he was scoffing at it? Did he even deserve this? “Kidding you? If you don’t like it, cook it yourself next time.” Daniel crossed his legs and slouched in his chair. “I just made one comment. Why are you acting like a psycho? Are you going through menopause early?” I ignored him, fixed myself a plate, and started eating. I had been working all day, and my head was pounding. After Daniel finished his game, he barked an order, and Harris quickly sat down, waiting for me to serve him. Because of how Harris had behaved earlier today, I purposely ignored him, wanting him to reflect on his actions. But Daniel immediately went on the attack. “Harris, don’t grow up to be like your mother. She’s a useless freeloader who only knows how to stuff her own face.” “Always carrying a resting bitch face. Who are you trying to intimidate?” “You only care about yourself. Can’t you see Harris is too small to reach the plates? Serve him!” “Always so stingy, counting every penny. You wouldn’t even buy him a toy.” “It’s good for a kid to have desires. Why do you always have to crush his spirit?” Harris rested his chin in his tiny hands, looking at his dad with pure adoration. Daniel went on and on, accusing me as if I were some kind of abusive mother. I interrupted him coldly. “The toy Harris wanted cost two hundred dollars.” Daniel choked. He clearly hadn’t expected a toy to be that expensive. He quickly changed the subject to save face. “Oh, so now you’re throwing money in my face? Are you still looking down on me because I don’t have a degree and come from a poor family?” “Let me tell you something, Aurora. This is your life now.” “You’re lucky Harris and I can tolerate a mentally unstable woman like you.” Harris wiggled his arms, looking at Daniel with puppy dog eyes. “Chloe has that toy. Why can’t I have it? I’m a boy! It’s not fair!”

A boy? Since when did Harris start believing that being a boy made him superior? Did Daniel’s mother, Amanda, brainwash him with that garbage? I realized I needed to have a serious talk with Harris. This mindset was toxic. Daniel took a sip of his beer. “It’s all your grandma Sarah’s fault. She’s stingy. If she gave us more money, we wouldn’t have this problem.” Harris nodded in agreement. “Yeah! Grandma Sarah is a bad person.” Slap! I slapped him across the face. “Sarah is the one who took care of you since you were a baby! Don’t you dare enjoy her love and then call her a bad person!” Harris was stunned. He clutched his cheek, his eyes wide with shock. “Daddy said Grandma Sarah is trash compared to Grandma Amanda! Mommy, you hit me!” “I don’t want you to be my mommy anymore!” Daniel shoved me back. “Have you lost your mind? Taking your anger out on a kid!” “Harris is a boy! He’s the one carrying the Schmidt legacy! Sarah should be throwing money at him!” “Do you even know who your real family is? Harris and I are your family!” “You asshole!” I gasped. He suddenly looked like a stranger to me. It was that horrifying realization that the person you loved had turned completely rotten. Seeing the disgust in my eyes, Daniel slammed his hands on the table, flipping it over. Hot oil and food splattered all over my clothes. “Harris is so unlucky to have a petty bitch like you for a mother.” “Harris is right! Sarah is trash compared to Amanda!” Harris, completely oblivious to the gravity of the situation, cheered. “I don’t want Mommy anymore!” “I don’t want a stingy mommy! I want Chloe’s mommy to be my mommy!” Looking at the two monsters standing in front of me, I felt a strange sense of calm. I looked at the mess on the floor, then looked up at Daniel. “Let’s get a divorce.” “Daniel, I’m done. We’re finished.” Daniel marched over to the drawer, grabbed our marriage certificate, and threw it at my face. “Anyone who backs out is a chicken shit!” We drove to the city hall immediately. Even when we got the divorce papers finalized, I still couldn’t believe how easy it was to cut ties with a toxic person. Daniel held Harris, sneering at me before driving off without even looking back. But when I returned to the apartment to pack my things, Daniel was sitting on the couch, rolling his eyes. “Who are you trying to scare?” “You can’t survive a week without me and Harris.” “When you realize how good you had it, maybe I’ll let you marry back into the family.” I kept my head down, quietly packing my suitcase. This time, I was playing for keeps. I wanted to see how long they would survive without their free live-in maid.

Dragging my suitcase, I embarked on my first solo trip in eight years. No, this wasn’t just a trip. This was my rebirth. I booked a one-way ticket to Bangkok, Thailand, and spent my days surrounded by gorgeous, attentive cabana boys. In the past, I would have thought, I need to keep my distance from other men. I have to be a loyal, modest wife. Now? Screw Daniel. I had a handsome, muscular young man slice my steak and pour my champagne, feeding me directly from his hands. Looking at their perfectly sculpted abs, I realized my mouth was watering way before my tears could even form. Back then, Daniel had won me over by delivering cheap breakfast to my dorm every morning. And yet, he was the one who ended up treating me like garbage. I opened my phone camera. The woman in the screen was glowing, her eyes bright with a spark that had been dead for years. This is what money and freedom feel like. Suddenly, I understood what my older sister, Kristy, had told me years ago: “A woman should never keep a man in her heart.” Back then, I had argued with her, thinking she was some radical feminist. I believed in equal love, in building a nest together. Kristy had sighed and corrected me. “I want your heart to be free of men, Aurora. That doesn’t mean your bed has to be empty.” I had frowned, thinking she was just cold and didn’t understand true love. How pathetic, I thought. But now, I realized she was a genius. I hit the record button on Snapchat, capturing a video of myself laughing as two handsome guys fed me grapes. “I’m officially free! No Daniel, no Harris. I’ve never been happier!” “I gave everything to that house, and in the end, my own son looked down on me.” “He called me a petty mother. He said I didn’t deserve to spend his father’s money.” “If I could go back eight years, I would have run away from him.” “Instead of wasting my youth being a free, unappreciated nanny.” “Now, Daniel is trash to me. And honestly? Screw Harris too.” I posted the video to my public story. At the very end, I showed my divorce papers and the custody agreement where I had waived my parental rights. To get the divorce quickly, I had agreed to leave with nothing. We didn’t own the apartment anyway, and his beat-up car wasn’t worth anything. Signing away custody in exchange for zero child support obligations was the best bargain of my life. After posting, I called Kristy. “Kristy, I did it. I’m divorced. I’m single.” “You always said spending money on men brings bad luck, which is why you never lent me money to support Daniel. I get it now.” Ding. My phone vibrated. I looked down. Kristy had sent me $50,000 via PayPal. “Kristy, I gave up custody of Harris too.” Ding. Another $50,000. I quickly accepted the transfers, feeling the warmth of my sister’s love. “Let me know if you need more. When you’re done partying, come work at my company,” Kristy said before hanging up. Kristy had started her own tech company after college, and it had recently gone public. Lately, she was preparing to acquire a smaller tech startup—the very startup Daniel worked for. With a suddenly massive bank account, I felt like a brand new woman. Had those eight years of being locked up in Daniel’s “love” really been worth it? I got nothing but wrinkles, insults, and a shattered self-esteem. Maybe Daniel did love me once, but he used that love, my responsibility for Harris, and my moral guilt to keep me under his thumb for eight years. Without Daniel backing him up, Harris would have never dared to treat me like that. I promised myself I would never think about those two again. But they forced their way back into my mind because my casual Snapchat video went viral.

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I was known as the ultimate black sheep among CEOs in our industry. While other companies treated interns like disposable, cheap labor, I did the exact opposite. I fought against the entire board’s objections. I made sure every single intern received one-on-one mentorship, paid training, housing stipends, and even fully reimbursed Uber rides for late-night overtime. The internship program was running incredibly well. But just as I was planning to expand it, a heavily edited audio clip went viral on TikTok and YouTube. They took my words completely out of context, spinning a narrative that I was only “fattening up” the interns now so I could ruthlessly exploit them later. Overnight, public opinion turned against me. The very people who had benefited from my generosity became my fiercest enemies. The office walls were spray-painted with the words: CAPITALIST LEECH. Standing in the main conference room, I opened a file that no one in the company expected me to have. And every single one of them was left utterly speechless.

Sandra Miller, our CFO, placed the Internship Program Budget Proposal on my desk. “Elena, are you absolutely sure you don’t want to reconsider this?” I didn’t say a word. Sandra flipped the budget sheet to the very last page. “For this batch alone—thirty-seven interns—between mentor fees, base salaries, housing stipends, and health insurance, we’re looking at nearly eight hundred thousand dollars. Elena, that’s practically our entire net profit from last year.” I finally looked up. “Sandra, our net profit last year was 1.2 million. I already cut this budget down from one million to eight hundred thousand. Some of our executives are mentoring on a volunteer basis, and we’re housing them in the company’s vacant corporate apartments. I’ve done the math. The actual out-of-pocket cost isn’t that high.” Sandra sighed, pushing the document a little closer to me. “Elena, I’m not saying it’s a bad program. I’m saying our current cash flow can’t support this level of charity.” Charity. Hearing that word sent a sharp, familiar ache through my chest. It brought me right back to my senior year of college. The December wind cut through the streets like a knife. I remembered wearing a thin, cheap black blazer and tight heels that blistered my feet, walking from office to office just to hand out my resume. An HR manager at one company had literally shredded my resume right in front of my face. He told me, “Ivy League Master’s grads are lining up for unpaid gigs. You’re a state school grad, and you actually expect a paycheck?” So, the moment I became my own boss, the very first thing I wanted to change was the toxic internship culture. Sandra didn’t argue. She knew that this eight hundred thousand dollars wasn’t just a budget line. It was my personal crusade. She hesitated. “The board… they might not back you on this.” I swept the file into my desk drawer. “I’ll handle the board. The internship program officially launches next Monday.”

At 9:00 AM on Monday, all thirty-seven interns gathered in the main conference room. I stood before them. “Welcome to the company. Starting today, you will begin a three-month paid internship. During this time, each of you will be paired with a dedicated mentor for one-on-one guidance. Your wages will be set at 120% of the industry average. We will also provide housing stipends, health insurance, and fully reimbursed Uber rides if you ever have to work late.” A sudden wave of whispers washed over the room. Some stared at me with wide eyes. Others turned to exchange skeptical glances. A few were quietly muttering that it sounded too good to be true. I waited a few seconds, then smiled. “I only have one requirement: learn fast, and work hard.” The thirty-seven interns were split across seven departments. I had handpicked every single mentor myself. At first, the mentors struggled to adapt. Marcus Gallagher, our Tech Director, complained privately to Sandra. “It takes me three years to properly train a junior developer. Now she wants them ready in three months? Elena is living in a fantasy world.” But it didn’t take long for Marcus to change his tune. By the second week, the intern assigned to him had independently coded an entire software module for their weekly review. The code was so clean that Marcus thought he was looking at a senior developer’s work. At the next weekly management meeting, Marcus couldn’t hide the pride in his voice. “The kid is a natural. I’ve only been coaching him for two weeks, and his coding habits are already cleaner than some of my mid-level developers.” The other departments soon reported similar successes. The marketing intern pitched a campaign strategy that the client approved on the spot. The design intern created a poster series that won first place in our internal design competition. The product intern compiled a user research report with data analysis so sharp it looked professional. I kept track of all these small victories in a little leather notebook. Every night before bed, I would flip through the pages. The program was succeeding beyond my wildest dreams. I decided it was time to scale up the initiative. But that was exactly when the trap snapped shut.

I was woken up by my phone vibrating violently. The sky was barely gray. I swiped the screen. Forty-seven missed calls. My Snapchat and messages were absolutely blowing up. I tapped on a voice note sent by Jane Vance, our HR Director. “Elena, have you looked at YouTube or TikTok? Someone leaked a voice recording of you from our executive meeting. It’s trending everywhere. PR is trying to contain it, but it’s spreading too fast!” I opened TikTok. The video already had over thirty million views. It was just an audio track set against a backdrop of heavily edited, unflattering security footage photos of me from the conference room. They made me look like an angry, greedy tyrant. I pressed play. My voice came through the speaker: “…The interns? It’s fine if we invest heavily in them early on. We feed them, we get them nice and fat, and once they sign those full-time contracts, we can handle them however we want. You have to understand—the more a person feels you’ve invested in them, the harder it is for them to ever leave you.” The clip cut off abruptly. The comments section was an absolute toxic wasteland. [So this is Elena Sterling, the supposedly ‘ethical’ CEO? Wow. The mask slipped fast.] [I knew those housing stipends and paid training were too good to be true. There’s no such thing as a free lunch in capitalism.] [Ex-employee here. I always felt something was off. No boss is that nice to interns unless they’re raising pigs for slaughter.] [Boost this, guys! Make this corporate vampire famous!] I threw my phone face down on the bed and closed my eyes. The recording was real. But it had been sliced to pieces. The first part of my original statement was actually me screaming at a department manager who had been treating interns like modern-day slaves. I had chewed him out for ten straight minutes. The second part was me explaining how we could retain top talent by actually investing in their career growth and showing them we cared, creating a mutual bond of trust. But in the edited version, my anger at the bad manager was gone. My explanation was gone. Only those few sentences remained, twisted into a malicious confession. It was a brilliantly executed hit job. I got up to wash my face. As I was brushing my teeth, Jane called again. “Elena, we traced the leak. The audio came from inside the office. The security cameras and the audio recording systems are on separate networks. Only the eight people in that executive meeting had access to the raw files…” With the toothbrush still in my mouth, I interrupted her. “I know.” “You know?” “The circle of people who could get that audio is tiny. Don’t panic, Jane. I’ll see you at the office.” I hung up and looked at myself in the mirror. My hair was a bit messy, my eyes were slightly bloodshot, but my expression was perfectly calm. I whispered to my reflection: Elena, just because you want to do something good doesn’t mean everyone wants to see you succeed.

The moment I stepped into the office lobby, the young receptionist looked at me, her eyes brimming with tears. She stood up as if to say something, but choked on her words and sat back down. I gave her a gentle nod and kept walking toward the elevator. When the elevator doors slid open on our floor, I was greeted by three-foot-high, dripping red letters spray-painted across the white hallway wall: CORPORATE VAMPIRE. The paint was still wet, running down the wall like blood. I stood there, staring at those words for ten long seconds. I heard footsteps behind me. It was Jane and Zach Carter, our Legal Counsel. Zach spoke first. “Elena, I’ve already contacted the police. This is vandalism and clear defamation—” “Don’t worry about the police yet,” I cut in. “Just take photos for evidence and leave it. If we make a huge scene now, the internet will just say we’re trying to intimidate people and cover our tracks.” Jane bit her lip. “But Elena… three interns already submitted their resignations this morning. And two of our full-time staff just quit, too.” “Which interns?” “Lily Evans, Tyler Brooks, and Chloe Martinez.” I paused. I remembered all three of them. Lily was from last year’s batch. She had performed beautifully and had transitioned to a full-time role just three months ago. Tyler was one of our newest hires. And Chloe… she was also from last year’s batch, and she was already leading her own sub-projects. I really hadn’t expected Chloe to quit. I sighed. “Hold their resignation letters for now. Follow standard company protocol—thirty days’ notice for transition. Don’t make it hard on them, but don’t give them special treatment either. Just go by the book.” I walked into my private office, closed the door, and opened my laptop. The internet was in an absolute frenzy. It wasn’t just the audio clip anymore. People were digging up fake “dirt” about me. There were posts claiming I withheld overtime pay, used the internship program to scam the government for tax write-offs, and even rumors that I was sleeping with one of the female interns. Every claim came with “evidence.” But when I looked closely, it was all fabricated. The post about withheld overtime pay showed a pay stub that didn’t even have our official company logo, and the formatting was completely wrong. But in the court of public opinion, facts didn’t matter. When a hate mob gets going, truth is always the first casualty. I leaned back in my chair, closed my eyes for a moment, and made a decision. I picked up the desk phone and dialed HR. “Jane, prep the main conference room. 10:00 AM. I want an all-hands meeting. Everyone, including the interns.” “Elena, some people online are talking about protesting outside our building. Should we—” “No need. Just run business as usual.” I hung up, opened my bottom desk drawer, and pulled out a thick, heavy manila envelope. It was stuffed to the brim. I didn’t open it. I just placed it on the desk. I had been compiling this file for three months. I had planned to reveal it at our annual company gala as a massive surprise for everyone. But it looked like the surprise was coming early.

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Five years into my marriage with billionaire Ethan Carter, we still didn’t have a marriage license. He told me it was a strict rule in his family—no signing the marriage license until we had a baby to secure the family trust. Five years had passed, and I still hadn’t gotten pregnant. I always thought it was my fault. But a sudden, random check by our insurance clerk shattered my entire world. Ethan had already signed a marriage license—with Serena Miller, his first love. I drove to his office, my heart in my throat, desperate for an explanation. But through the cracked door of his office, I heard him talking to his friend: “I’m never having a baby with Vivian. And I’m definitely not signing a marriage license with her. I had a vasectomy years ago.” “Everyone in high society knows Vivian as my wife. I’ve given her the social status of Mrs. Carter. That’s enough. The only thing I can give Serena is this marriage license. It’s what I owe her.” What Ethan didn’t know was that five years ago, I made a promise to his mother. If I couldn’t produce an heir within five years, I would leave him. And now, there were only three days left.

“What do you mean, my husband is already legally married?” “We’ve been married for five years. We just… haven’t finalized the legal paperwork yet. You must have made a mistake.” I looked at the insurance clerk standing in my living room, her face solemn. I was still desperately trying to convince myself this was a ridiculous error. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Carter—or rather, Ms. Sterling. We checked the public registry for your joint spousal policy. Mr. Ethan Carter is legally married to a woman named Serena Miller. Do you know her?” The polite smile on my face instantly froze. How could I not know that name? Serena Miller was the girl Ethan could never get over. Years ago, Serena left the country to pursue her dreams in Europe. Under pressure from Ethan’s mother, they were forced to break up. That was how I got the chance to stand by Ethan’s side. I knew Serena had returned to New York a few weeks ago, but I hadn’t thought much of it. On the day she landed, Ethan had confessed to me. “Vivian, I failed Serena back then. It was because of my family that she ended up marrying a toxic guy abroad and got abused. Now she’s back, and I just want to help her out, like family. Please don’t overthink it.” At the time, I was touched by his honesty. I generously told him I didn’t mind. But the moment the clerk left my house, I lost my mind. I grabbed my car keys and drove straight to the Carter Group headquarters. I needed to hear the truth. The employees all recognized me, so I walked straight to the executive floor without any interruption. Just as I reached the door of Ethan’s private office, I heard voices coming from inside. “Ethan, what the hell are you playing at?” It was his best friend, Marcus. “Five years ago, you threw a multi-million dollar commitment ceremony with Vivian but refused to sign the marriage license, claiming you needed a baby first. And now, you secretly went to City Hall and married Serena?” There was a long silence before Ethan’s cold, smooth voice echoed through the door. “I’m never having a baby with Vivian, Marcus. And I’m definitely not signing a marriage license with her. I had a vasectomy years ago.” “For five years, I’ve been waiting for Serena to come back.” “Everyone knows Vivian is my wife. I’ve given her the lifestyle, the title of Mrs. Carter. But the only thing I can give Serena is this piece of paper. It’s what I owe her.” Hearing those words, my chest tightened so hard it felt like my heart was being ripped out. I couldn’t even breathe. So, it was all a setup from the very beginning. Five years ago, right after Serena left, Ethan came to me and proposed. He said we could have a lavish wedding, but we couldn’t register the marriage license yet. He claimed the Carter family had a strict rule: an heir must be born before the wife is legally registered into the family lineage. Ethan knew how madly in love with him I was. He knew I wouldn’t say no. On our wedding day, I thought I was the happiest woman alive. I wore a custom white gown, standing next to the man I had adored for years. In the five years that followed, I never got pregnant. But I didn’t think it mattered because to the rest of the world, I was the undisputed Mrs. Carter. Still, I wanted to make it official. For five years, I went to countless fertility clinics. I endured endless rounds of IVF, took heavy hormone pills, and stabbed my stomach with painful needles every single day, vomiting until I was empty. But nothing worked. I thought my body was broken. I blamed myself constantly, remembering how fragile my health was as a child. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that Ethan had gotten a vasectomy before we even stood at the altar. No matter how many needles I took, no matter how much pain I endured, it was all a joke. “Ethan, you’re playing with fire here,” Marcus warned. “I’m not,” Ethan replied with absolute confidence. “Even if Vivian finds out, I’ll just buy her some jewelry and sweet-talk her. She’s too obsessed with me to leave. Besides, she already has the title she wants.” My hands shook violently outside the door. But what Ethan didn’t know was that five years ago, his mother made me sign an agreement. If I couldn’t produce an heir within five years, I had to pack my bags and walk away. And there were only three days left.

Five years ago, when Ethan first proposed to me, his mother, Helen Carter, paid me a private visit. “I don’t particularly like you, Vivian, but you’re at least from a decent background, unlike that gold-digger Serena. I stopped Ethan once, but I can’t stop him a second time,” Helen had said, her voice dripping with aristocratic disdain. “But let me make one thing clear. If you don’t have a baby within five years, and Ethan still refuses to sign your marriage license, you will pack your bags and leave him on your own. Deal?” Without hesitation, I had agreed. For me, just being able to stand beside Ethan was a dream come true. Every girl has a secret crush, and Ethan was mine. I had quietly chased after him for years, even when I knew his heart belonged to Serena. “Mrs. Carter? What are you doing here?” Ethan’s secretary suddenly walked up behind me, her voice breaking my trance. The movement outside caught the attention of the people inside. The office door swung open instantly. I looked up and met Ethan’s furrowed brows. A minute later, the office was cleared. It was just the two of us. “How much did you hear?” Ethan asked, his voice guarded. “Everything,” I said, my voice surprisingly flat. “I know you legally married Serena.” I didn’t bother playing dumb. “Since you know, I’m asking you to keep Serena out of this. It was my decision, not hers,” Ethan said, stepping closer, his tone turning into one of arrogant reassurance. “Don’t worry. To the public, you will always be Mrs. Carter.” I stood there, feeling a profound, chilling sadness wash over me. “Didn’t you tell me last week she was like family to you?” Faced with my question, Ethan remained silent. “So, tell me, Ethan. Between Serena and me… who is the actual mistress here?” “Serena is not a mistress!” Ethan snapped defensively. If Serena wasn’t the mistress, then who was? Me? The woman who had lived with him as his wife for five years? Ethan looked into my eyes, but he couldn’t hold my gaze. He looked away, his guilt quickly morphing into anger. “Enough, Vivian! I told you, you keep the title of Mrs. Carter. Isn’t that enough for you? Stop being so dramatic!” “Ethan, do you have any idea…” Just as I was about to tell him about the agreement I made with his mother, his phone rang. It was a custom ringtone. One he only used for her. He picked it up, and a sweet, whiny voice echoed through the speaker. “Babe! When are you coming home? I really want those cupcakes from the bakery near our old college campus. Can you go buy some for me now?” “Of course, sweetie. I’m leaving right now,” Ethan’s voice softened instantly into a tone he had never used with me. “Will this affect your work? I don’t want to get in the way.” “Never. Nothing is more important than my wife.” He hung up and grabbed his coat. As he walked past me, he seemed to finally remember I was still in the room. “Vivian, drop the attitude. I promise you, the title of Mrs. Carter will always be yours.” With that, Ethan turned and walked out, slamming the door behind him. I was left standing in the empty office. A bitter wave of tears finally spilled over, and I couldn’t stop them. I didn’t even remember how I walked out of that building. My body felt like an empty shell, hollowed out of all life.

Five years of self-deception. Five years of agonizing fertility treatments. Countless needles that left my stomach bruised, and hormone pills that made me vomit daily. All of it became a hilarious joke in the face of Ethan’s words: “I had a vasectomy years ago.” I didn’t go back to the penthouse we shared. Instead, I drove straight to the Carter Estate. Helen Carter was sitting in the grand living room, elegantly trimming imported roses. When she saw me walk in alone, her brows furrowed in annoyance. “Why are you here at this hour? Where is Ethan?” “He went to be with his legal wife,” I said, my voice dead calm. Helen’s hand slipped. A sharp rose thorn pricked her finger, but she didn’t even flinch. She looked up at me, eyes wide with shock. “What did you say?” I took a printed document from my bag and tossed it onto the glass coffee table. It was the registry search result showing Ethan’s active, legal marriage to Serena Miller. “Mrs. Carter. Or maybe I should just call you Helen,” I said, a faint smile playing on my lips. “Five years ago, I promised you that if I couldn’t have a baby in five years and Ethan refused to sign our marriage license, I would leave. Well… time is up.” Helen’s face flushed with a mixture of emotions. Although she had always looked down on my lack of an elite family pedigree, she couldn’t deny that I had taken flawless care of her son for five years. More than that, she never expected the submissive, quiet Vivian to speak to her with such cold defiance. “Vivian, you…” Helen opened her mouth, a brief flicker of guilt crossing her eyes, but it was quickly replaced by the cold calculation of a high-society matriarch. “Since you brought up our agreement, the Carter family won’t send you away empty-handed. However… my father-in-law’s 80th Birthday Gala is in three days. The entire New York elite will be there.” Helen sighed, her tone softening into a manipulative plea. “Grandpa Charles’s health is failing. He cannot handle any shocks. For his sake, and for the reputation of the Carter family, you must attend this gala as Ethan’s wife.” “Once the gala is over, you can leave. I won’t stop you.” I looked at the calculating woman in front of me, the last spark of warmth in my heart completely dying out. To the very end, all they cared about was their precious reputation. “Fine. I’ll play along for one last show,” I agreed instantly. Helen let out a massive sigh of relief. She immediately gestured to her assistant, who handed me a pre-written check. The amount was staggering—a multi-million dollar payoff. “Think of this as your severance package. Consider it my personal compensation to you.” I took the slip of paper, holding it lightly between my fingers. The smile on my face deepened. Helen thought she was buying my silence with a few million dollars. She had no idea that as the sole heiress of the Sterling Group, I could buy ten Carter estates with a snap of my fingers. I took the check only because it was the perfect, ironic receipt to close out the last five years of my humiliating devotion. I turned and walked out of the estate. As the cool night breeze hit my face, I felt lighter than I had in years.

The night before the gala, a heavy, suffocating silence hung over our penthouse. Ethan came home late. When he took off his shoes, his movements were unusually quiet. My behavior over the last few days had thrown him off. I hadn’t cried, I hadn’t screamed, and I hadn’t sent him a single angry text. This sudden loss of control made him anxious. He was used to me worshiping the ground he walked on. He walked over to the sofa and slid a velvet Cartier box onto the table. “It’s a limited-edition high jewelry necklace,” he said, his voice carrying his usual arrogant tone of charity. “Serena’s health is fragile, and she’s been through a lot. I only gave her the marriage license to protect her and give her a sense of security. Just be a good girl, Vivian. To the world, you are the only Mrs. Carter.” I looked at the sparkling diamonds in the box and felt absolutely nothing. Years ago, a single red rose from him would have made me cry with joy. Now, this multi-million dollar necklace only made me sick. But I didn’t blow up. Instead, I picked up the box with a gentle smile. I even stood up and reached out to adjust his silk tie, my fingers lightly grazing his neck. My touch was as gentle as it had been every morning for the past five years. Ethan relaxed, thinking I had succumbed to his wealth once again. He grabbed my hand, his grip tightening. “I knew you’d understand. Make sure everything goes smoothly at the gala tomorrow.” I smiled softly, my voice barely a whisper. “Don’t worry, Ethan. Tomorrow, I will play the part of Mrs. Carter perfectly.” The next evening, the Carter Estate was glittering with lights. The driveway was lined with Bentleys and Lamborghinis as the city’s billionaires, politicians, and socialites arrived for Grandpa Charles’s 80th Birthday Gala. Ethan, dressed in a bespoke Tom Ford tuxedo, walked in with me on his arm. I was wearing a stunning, backless crimson gown. The moment we entered, all eyes were on us. Ethan smirked, his ego thoroughly massaged by the envious stares of his peers. At the peak of the night, Grandpa Charles was helped onto the stage. He took Ethan’s hand and mine, smiling warmly. “Tonight is not just my 80th birthday. It also marks the fifth anniversary of Ethan and Vivian’s marriage. Vivian has been a blessing to our family. Tonight, as an anniversary gift, I am officially transferring 10% of Carter Group’s core shares to her!” The crowd erupted into applause. Helen’s face went stiff, but she had to force a polite smile. Ethan looked at me with deep, performative affection, as if we were the perfect power couple. But just as Grandpa Charles picked up the pen to sign the transfer document, the grand double doors of the ballroom were violently slammed open! A swarm of paparazzi and reporters rushed into the hall, their camera flashes blinding the crowd. And leading the press pack was Serena Miller, dressed in a tragic, flowing white dress, her face pale as a ghost. Suddenly, the giant projector screen behind the stage flickered. High-definition photos of Ethan and Serena kissing, cuddling, and entering luxury hotels filled the screen. The reporters instantly swarmed the stage, shoving microphones into Ethan’s face. “Mr. Carter! Are you having an affair? Has your wife been kept in the dark this entire time?” “Ms. Miller, are you trying to destroy a marriage? Are you his mistress?” Faced with the barrage, Serena burst into tears and held up a certified document. “I am not the mistress! I have our legal marriage certificate right here! I am Ethan Carter’s legal wife! Vivian Sterling is the actual homewrecker who stole my place!” The room fell into a dead, suffocating silence, followed by a wave of furious whispering. Grandpa Charles shook with rage, pointing a trembling finger at Ethan. “What… what is the meaning of this?!” Ethan’s face went completely pale under the flashing lights. He looked at Serena, then at me. Under the immense pressure of his family’s reputation and the live cameras, Ethan made a split-second decision to protect his beloved. He took a deep breath and spoke directly into the microphones. “Serena is telling the truth. She… is my legal wife.” With that single sentence, he officially branded me a mistress in front of the entire city. Ethan turned to look at me, his eyes pleading, silently begging me to play along and help him clean up this mess. But I just smiled. It was a radiant, breathtaking smile, entirely devoid of pain. I slowly opened my luxury clutch, pulled out a thick envelope of documents, and took the microphone from the stand. “Don’t worry about signing those shares over to me, Grandpa Charles,” my voice rang clear and steady through the speakers, echoing in every corner of the ballroom. “Since the legal Mrs. Carter has come to claim her title… I think my part in this play is officially over.”

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When I was being mutilated by illegal organ traffickers, my husband was in the hospital, gently wiping down his childhood sweetheart’s body. Right before I died, I dialed his number with my blood-covered hand. The call went through, but he only let out a cold sneer. “Finally ready to admit you’re wrong?!” “Just admit it, Clara! Your petty jealousy triggered Chloe’s heart attack! I am so sick of your constant tantrums. Unless you die, I will never forgive you!” The next second, he hung up. In pure despair, I closed my eyes forever. The next day, my husband was desperate to find a compatible heart for Chloe’s transplant. Luckily, he secured one. On the third day, as a forensic pathologist, he received a dismembered, unidentified Jane Doe from the police. But no matter how hard he examined the body, he couldn’t find her heart. The day after I died, Ethan finally managed to buy a heart through his black-market connections. He immediately scheduled the transplant surgery for Chloe. At the same time, the police delivered a newly found, dismembered corpse to the morgue. It was handed over to Ethan. Detective Carter said angrily, “The killer was a monster. How could anyone do something so brutal?” Ethan didn’t say a word. He just stared at the remains on the table. Suddenly, he let out a soft frown, picked up a brain tissue sample, and began examining it closely. When he finally stopped, Detective Carter quickly asked, “Did you find any clues?” Ethan furrowed his brows. “It’s been at least two days since she died, but there’s still some unusual cellular activity in the brain.” “This means the victim was tortured brutally before her death. Also… her heart is missing from these remains.” Ethan’s eyes flickered as he spoke. Detective Carter gasped and immediately turned to the officers behind him. “Hurry! Search the entire city! This is a major clue. Even if you have to dig up the whole town, find that missing heart!” “Dammit, the feds just launched a crackdown on organ trafficking, and these bastards still dare to do this? To murder someone so brutally… they have absolutely no respect for the law!” Then, he looked at Ethan with concern. “Ethan, I heard you and your wife had a fight?” A look of pure disgust flashed across Ethan’s cold face. “Don’t bring her up. She made Chloe suffer so much. It’s better if she just rots out there.” Hearing his words, my ghostly soul still felt a sharp, stabbing pain. He was still blaming Chloe’s heart attack on me. Detective Carter apologized, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just that two days ago, your neighbors saw a strange car entering the neighborhood on security footage. That was the exact night Clara walked out after your fight.” “We’ve checked the surrounding areas. No one else is reported missing except your wife. Have you tried calling her to check in?” After a brief silence, Ethan’s frown relaxed, replaced by a mocking smirk. “Clara is just petty. She can’t stand me caring about anyone else. This isn’t the first time she’s thrown a tantrum. Every single time, she eventually crawls back and begs for my forgiveness. This time, she’s just trying to show me some pathetic display of her resolve.” “Detective, your focus should be on this brutal murder. A trivial matter like Clara doesn’t deserve your time.” Hearing this, Detective Carter swallowed his words. He shook his head, sighed, and went to deploy his team. I let out a bitter, ghostly laugh. I used to think our past arguments would make him realize my frustration. But now I saw the truth. To him, my pain was just a clown’s performance.

Ethan buried himself in the autopsy room. To reconstruct how my body had been dismembered and my organs harvested, Ethan worked for two days straight without sleep. It wasn’t until a pounding headache hit him that he finally stopped. Just then, his phone rang. It was the HR representative from my company. “Hello, is this Ethan? Clara has been MIA for three days now. If she doesn’t show up tomorrow, we’ll have to terminate her employment.” Ethan sneered, “She’s always been irresponsible. On top of that, she has violent tendencies. Go ahead and fire her. It’s for the best.” “Well, could you try to contact her for us? Her phone keeps going straight to voicemail…” “Sorry, I don’t have time. If she doesn’t go to work, just fire her.” Ethan added coldly, “And make sure she’s blacklisted. You wouldn’t want someone like her threatening the safety of your company anyway.” “…” The call disconnected. Detective Carter walked over. “Ethan, you should go home and get some rest. And call your wife. You two are married. You need to communicate to make things last.” Ethan wanted to refuse, but the sharp pain in his temples made it impossible to continue working. He reluctantly agreed. On the drive back, he opened his phone and glanced at his call logs. At the very top was Chloe’s number, saved under the contact name “My Sweetheart.” Looking at that name, I couldn’t help but laugh at myself. He claimed to be obsessed with autopsies, yet even at the precinct, his mind was entirely focused on Chloe’s recovery. As for my last call, it was from three days ago. That day, Ethan had brought Chloe to our house. He had called me in advance to ask when I would be home. I had bought him a luxury watch he had been eyeing for a long time. To surprise him, I lied and told him I was working late. But the moment I unlocked the front door, I saw the two of them passionately kissing in the living room. Their clothes were half-off, tangled up in each other. Furious, I grabbed a heavy broom near the door and swung it at Chloe. But before I could even touch her, she collapsed to the floor, gasping for air. Ignoring my tears and questions, Ethan immediately called an ambulance and rushed her to the hospital, where she was diagnosed with a sudden heart attack. That night, Ethan stormed back home to yell at me. He blamed me, saying that if I hadn’t scared her, Chloe wouldn’t have almost died. But he was completely blind. I hadn’t even touched his mistress. She had collapsed from the sheer excitement of their own cheap affair. In a fit of rage, I walked out of the house. And I never made it back. Ethan’s finger hovered over my name on his screen. Surprisingly, he tapped it. I held my ghostly breath. Before I died, I had set up an emergency voice message on my phone and thrown it into the bushes with all my strength.

As long as the killers hadn’t found and destroyed my phone, Ethan would know I was dead the moment he called. But after a few seconds, he swiped his finger to cancel the call. He let out a cold smirk. “Playing hard to get again, Clara? Let’s see how long you can hold out before you come crawling back to beg.” “But even if you get down on your knees and beg Chloe for forgiveness this time, I won’t forgive you.” I smiled bitterly. He had no idea that I was already dead. Even if I wanted to apologize, I couldn’t. And why did he think his affair was so justified? He used my heart to save his mistress, yet he expected me to apologize to him indefinitely. I had tolerated him for too long, letting him stomp all over my dignity without a shred of respect. I screamed at him in rage, but he couldn’t hear me. Soon, Ethan arrived at the hospital. In the private suite, I saw a pale, fragile Chloe. Seeing Ethan, her eyes lit up. She tried to reach out to him but accidentally tumbled from the bed, coughing violently. Ethan rushed forward, catching her in his arms. He didn’t care about the spit and grime on her hospital gown as he gently lifted her back onto the bed. Watching this, a familiar ache pierced my dead heart. During our marriage, Ethan barely let me touch him. I always thought he had a severe case of OCD and hated physical contact. But now, looking at how he held her, I realized his OCD was selective. He just didn’t want to touch me. Ethan gently wiped Chloe’s mouth and said softly, “I’m sorry, Chloe. A brutal murder case came up at the precinct, and I had to focus on the investigation.” Chloe sighed. “If even you—the legend of the forensics department—find it difficult, I can’t imagine how horrific the case must be.” Hearing this, Ethan told her everything about the autopsy. When he mentioned that the victim’s heart was missing, Chloe instinctively touched her own chest. “Ethan… do you think… it could be the one inside me?” Ethan froze for a second, then pulled her into a tight hug. “Don’t overthink it, Chloe. The world isn’t that small. Besides, I obtained this heart through legitimate medical channels. It can’t possibly belong to that victim.” Chloe nodded happily, believing his lies. “Okay. If it weren’t for you, I’d be dead. I’ll believe anything you say.” Ethan smiled tenderly, nodding. They stared into each other’s eyes, dripping with affection. Then, a shadow of worry crossed Chloe’s face. Ethan asked, “What’s wrong, Chloe?” “Your wife is terrifying. We were just hugging after not seeing each other for so long, and she tried to kill me.” “Why did you even marry someone like her? Will she come back to hurt me again?” Ethan’s face darkened with anger. “She’s just a petty, narrow-minded woman who can’t stand me having any contact with you. But don’t worry, it won’t happen again. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” Chloe’s eyes lit up. “Ethan, does that mean…” After a few seconds of silence, a look of resolve settled in Ethan’s eyes. “Once she comes back, I’m divorcing her.” “Really?!” Ethan looked at Chloe with pure adoration and nodded. Then, they leaned in for a deep kiss. When they pulled apart, Ethan pulled out his phone, found my contact info, and deleted it without hesitation. I stood there, dazed. He was actually divorcing me for Chloe. Our three-year marriage had officially come to an end. But since I was already dead, he would probably be thrilled. At least he wouldn’t have to go through the legal hassle of a divorce. Suddenly, Ethan’s phone rang. He whispered a few comforting words to Chloe before stepping out of the room to answer it. Detective Carter’s urgent voice came through the speaker. “Ethan, have you heard from Clara yet?” Hearing my name, Ethan frowned. “Detective, this is my personal life. I—” “I’m not trying to meddle in your marriage, Ethan,” Detective Carter interrupted, his voice grave. “We just got a lead on the victim’s missing heart.” “And it’s highly likely connected to your wife, Clara.”

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