On our wedding anniversary, my wife Clara was at a bar kissing a male model. Her friends were even complaining on her behalf: “Clara, you can’t be such a pushover! You’re already CEO—why don’t you just dump that old man of yours?” Clara reluctantly let go of the male model, though his hand was still roaming over her thigh. “I’d love to! But I only got to where I am today because of him! He also holds half the company shares.” The male model’s eyes gleamed. “Have your friends gang up on him later. Get him drunk, then trick him into gambling his shares away while he’s wasted!” Everyone burst into laughter at that. Standing outside the door, I clenched my fists so hard they trembled. I’d been with Clara since we had nothing. Now that she’d made it big, she wanted to throw me away? Since she was heartless, don’t blame me for being ruthless. Today was our wedding anniversary. I’d made a whole table of dishes, wanting to celebrate with my wife. But the food went cold, and still she didn’t come home. Close to midnight, I received a message and address from a client. “Adrian, you’d better keep an eye on your wife. I just saw her fooling around with some guy in the men’s bathroom. The noise was so loud it made me blush.” In the photo, Clara was draped all over this man, her face showing pure satisfaction. I gripped my phone so hard I thought it might crack. Furious, I changed clothes and headed to the address. When I found the private room, what I saw through the glass door made my stomach turn. The room was thick with smoke—pure decadence. Clara was sitting on the male model’s lap. Every time she lost at dice, according to their bet, she had to do something intimate with him in various positions. The whole room roared with laughter. The male model was indeed young and handsome, wearing my custom-made suit. To please him, Clara had given him my clothes to wear while she put horns on my head. Just as I was about to kick the door open, the laughter inside suddenly stopped. “Sigh, you single people have it so good!” “Not like me—now that I’m married, I have to sneak around even when I’m cheating.” As soon as she said this, she planted a kiss on the male model’s lips. The pretty boy eagerly pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. They made out passionately as if no one else existed, while everyone around them acted like it was perfectly normal. “I’m telling you, Clara, you can’t be such a failure as a woman. You’re already the company CEO with thousands of employees depending on you.” “If you want to hook up with young, handsome guys, just dump that old man at home!” “Exactly! Look at me—I live so freely!” Clara reluctantly released the male model, but he slipped his hand under her skirt, clearly displeased. “I’d love to dump him for someone younger and hotter, but I only got where I am today because of him. Plus he holds half the company shares. If I dump him, he gets to take half the money.” The model’s eyes gleamed cunningly. “So that’s the only reason you won’t dump him!” “Easy then. Call him out here right now. You and your girlfriends can gang up on him, get him drunk, then when he’s wasted, trick him into gambling. You can subtly lure him into betting his half of the company shares.” “After all, he loves Clara so much. He trusts her one hundred percent and won’t suspect a thing.” At this, everyone laughed shamelessly.

Standing outside, I clenched my fists until they shook. What I saw and heard stabbed like knives into my eyes and scraped across my heart. Clara and I had been married for seven years. From having nothing to reaching today’s success, I’d borne all the hardships alone. Now her wings had grown strong. Now that she’d made it rich, she wanted to dump me for a young, handsome model. Since she was heartless, don’t blame me for being ruthless. My phone rang—Clara’s deadly call. I quickly muted it and walked away to answer. “Hey, Adrian, come to the bar and hang out with me.” Ha. She had no idea I’d been outside her room this whole time. “I’m sending you the address. Come quick!” After ending her call, I immediately called my private lawyer. “Prepare a divorce agreement for me. Clara leaves with nothing.” “What! Mr. Adrian, what’s going on?” Sensing my cold tone, he didn’t dare say more and simply did as I asked. I stood outside in the cold wind, smoking two cigarettes before turning back. Walking into the private room made my stomach churn, but I had to suppress my emotions and act oblivious. My arrival triggered a room full of sly, mocking laughter. What they were thinking right now was obvious. Clara straightened her clothes and stood up. Just like usual, she affectionately took my arm and acted cute. “Adrian, you’re finally here.” “I missed you so much!” She still reeked of another man. You don’t pick up that scent without intimate contact. Disgusted, I coldly pushed her away slightly. That male model had been looking at me with pure contempt and jealousy since I walked in. How dare he be jealous of me—she was my legal wife. Clara seemed startled when I pushed her away. “Adrian, what’s wrong? You look weird.” Because you disgust me. But I had to lie. “Nothing. My coat’s cold from outside. Don’t want you to catch a chill.” Clara smiled smugly, thinking I couldn’t live without her. “Oh Adrian, come sit!” “You’re always so busy, it’s hard to even see you.” “Since everyone’s free today, and it’s our anniversary, why not relax and have some fun?” The speaker was Yasmin, the woman who’d taught Clara how to cheat. I didn’t stand on ceremony. I walked over and sat down. “Yeah, I’m too busy. Managing such a big company alone—it’s more exhausting than being a dog.” Clara lounged around all day, leaving all the company affairs to me while she enjoyed the benefits. Now she wanted to trick me into losing my shares. Where in the world does that kind of calculation work? “Adrian’s finally willing to play with us.” Clara smiled mockingly, pulling the male model closer. “Adrian, this is my new assistant, Lucas.” Lucas greeted me with a challenging smile. I just nodded coldly. Clara didn’t care and sat down with him. Yasmin laughed and pushed the dice cup toward me. “Adrian, let’s play dice!” I looked up at them. They were dice experts, regularly destroying opponents at bars. But since I was already here, I had to see it through. “How do we play?”

“Honey, we’ll play easy—got to take care of my husband. Nobody bully him, okay?” “Yes ma’am!” “Never seen a woman who loves her husband more than you. You’re so considerate.” Clara leaned her head on mine. I stood up. “Then let’s go. If we’re playing, doing it outside would be more exciting. With so many witnesses, the atmosphere’s better.” Yasmin and Clara exchanged glances, then quickly agreed. In their minds, gambling outside meant even if they lost, they couldn’t back out with so many witnesses. We chose a table near the dance floor. Lucas sat with Clara, while Yasmin sat beside me. “Old rules—losers drink, plus a penalty.” “What penalty?” Yasmin grinned at Clara. “Make out with someone. But you can’t pick your own spouse.” At this, people nearby couldn’t help but come watch. I glanced coldly at Clara and nodded in agreement. The server brought over a case of alcohol. The bet was about to begin. I picked up the dice cup and shook it clumsily. My awkward movements made others sneer. “Don’t laugh at my husband. He’s such a good boy—he doesn’t really know how to play dice, so it’s normal.” As Clara defended me, she shook her dice cup with one hand while her other hand touched Lucas’s banana. Rage surged through me, but I held it back. “Ready?” “Adrian goes first!” I looked down at my five dice—three threes, one six, one four. “Five threes!” Yasmin: “Six sixes!” Clara: “Seven fives!” “Alright, calls are in. Open!” When the cups lifted, Clara had lost. She made a sad face as everyone jeered: “A bet’s a bet. Drink and kiss him.” Her friends all pointed at Lucas—giving her an excuse to cheat openly. “Honey, we can’t break the rules.” I smiled understandingly. “Go ahead!” “Haha, Adrian respects the rules too.” I pulled out a cigarette and lit it, smoking while watching Clara and Lucas make out. “Tsk tsk tsk, interesting. Gambling openly, then openly honoring the bet by kissing another man.” “And her husband’s sitting right there.” “Hahaha, it’s like blatant cheating right in his face. They really know how to play.” Yasmin glanced at those friends, who all laughed wickedly. To keep me from getting angry and leaving, Yasmin had Lucas join the game too. Now four of us were playing. “Let’s consider Adrian’s feelings, okay? No kissing this round. This time we bet drinks and money. Starting at three hundred thousand, six shots of hard liquor.” “You can bet money!” Those degenerate friends pulled out their expensive accessories as stakes. “Round two begins.” The dice cups hit the table. Calls rang out. Yasmin: “Four sixes!” Lucas: “Five threes!” Clara: “I’ll add one—six threes!” I glanced at mine—two threes. Since they all called threes, there must be some. “I’ll add one too. Seven threes.” “Good! Who are you betting on?” “Yasmin!” “Alright, open!” The cups lifted. They had no threes. Only I had two. “Hahaha, Adrian, you lost.” “You only have two threes—how did you dare call seven?” “Hahaha, they’re just playing him.” They were all experts who could signal each other with glances. They’d coordinated this, hadn’t they? Shot after shot of hard liquor went down, making my head grow heavier.

The gambling continued. I lost two more rounds, drank three full bottles of hard liquor, and lost a million dollars. “Honey, are you okay?” Clara looked at my slightly drunk state, the corners of her mouth constantly rising. This was their goal—get me drunk, then when I’m wasted, lure me into betting more in desperation, and then go for my shares. I don’t understand Clara. Why does a person’s heart change just like that? All these years of marriage, I gave in to her in everything, yielded to her, couldn’t bear to hit or scold her. Yet she conspired with her friends to scam me. “I’m fine. Continue.” Yasmin and the others started exchanging glances. Those looks clearly said: don’t let Adrian lose again—let him win a couple rounds so he’ll willingly bet his shares. I unconsciously clenched my fists. My chest felt blocked by a stone, making it hard to breathe. I sat up straight and continued shaking the dice cup. “Let’s start!” “What are we betting this round?” I laughed coldly. “Let’s go big. My limited edition luxury car outside—just picked it up a few days ago. As for you all, bet your subsidiary company assets?” “How about it?” Everyone exchanged glances, gasping sharply. I leaned back. “If you don’t want to bet, then leave. If we keep playing and I lose again, I’m done gambling.” They’d worked so hard to lure me into gambling. Walking away halfway would be pointless. Perhaps they were arrogant, thinking I was just a rookie who posed no threat. Clara shook my hand. “Honey, maybe bet something else?” “Ha, fine. We’ll leave right now then.” Clara fell silent. Yasmin’s husband stepped forward. “Bet! What’s there to fear?” “This kind of bet should be between men.” So it became me, Lucas, and Yasmin’s husband—three men gambling. Seeing us bet so big, the whole place quieted down. No more dancing, drinking, or picking up girls. Several hundred pairs of eyes surrounded us. The bet began. Yasmin winked at her husband. As if saying: Honey, let him win once—it’s fine. Next time when we bet for his shares, we’ll win it back. Clara will return it to us anyway. Nice eye contact. They could be actors. As for Lucas, he was betting his Cartier watch and a million in cash. The dice cups rattled. The room was so quiet you could hear the dice rolling. “Alright, calls are locked.” “Who goes first?” I glanced at my dice. “Three twos.” Lucas: “Five twos.” Yasmin’s husband: “Seven sixes.” “Open!” This round, they deliberately let me win. Lucas looked at Clara somewhat aggrieved. She reassured him with her eyes—it’s fine, she had plenty of money. “Haha, I won, honey!” I acted like an idiot, while they looked at me with pure contempt. “Oh honey, your luck’s turning! Let’s bet big.” “This is the last round. Let’s bet while the luck’s hot.” Yasmin’s husband: “Bet! I’m not afraid. Say it—what are we betting?” Clara smiled and pushed my hand. “Honey, put up your company shares and bet with him.” The whole place erupted: “Damn, betting that big! This is exciting!” “I didn’t come here for nothing. Forget the girls—I’m watching this bet.” I nodded drunkenly. “Whatever my wife says. But honey, you join too! If I’m going to lose my shares, I want to lose them to you!” Yasmin: “Hahaha, I’m taking you both down.” I smiled cunningly. “I’m already betting all my shares, so you all need to put up everything you own too.” “Holy shit, a life-or-death bet!” Yasmin, her husband, and Clara all laughed with pure mockery. I looked at Lucas. “You’re out of money, right? So bet your manhood. How about it?” The whole place roared with laughter. “Damn, that’s brutal!” “Without that thing, being a man would be pointless.” Lucas blew smoke in my face. “Bet! If you lose, you’re the one getting castrated.” Everyone laughed at me. To prevent backing out, we called in lawyers and drew up documents. “Alright, final round determines everything. Begin.” We shook our dice cups. “Bang!” “Who goes first?” Yasmin and group: “Four sixes!” Lucas: “Five threes!” Clara: “I’ll add one three!” They smiled confidently while everyone held their breath watching me. “Adrian, your turn!” I smiled. “Seven ones!” As soon as I spoke, they all laughed mockingly. “You’ve lost for sure. Open!” Yasmin only had two sixes, then one one, one five, one two. Clara had three threes, one four, one one. Lucas had one three, one two, two fives, one six. He looked nervously at Clara. “Adrian, we only have two ones total. Hahaha, if you don’t have five ones, you’re dead.” “He’s so bad—he’s not a gambling god. How could he possibly roll five ones?” “Open it!” I flicked away my cigarette, then lifted my dice cup. Everyone craned their necks. Suddenly, shocked exclamations erupted: “Ahhhh!! How is this possible?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “360718”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #魔幻Magic #惊悚Thriller #重生Reborn

On my seventh wedding anniversary, I received a special gift. A dashcam recording from my husband’s car, capturing the sounds of him with his new lover. The whole city knew him as the perfect husband. The man who once flew in two thousand roses for me, who rented out all of Iceland just to show me the Northern Lights. But in that recording, he gasped and moaned while telling someone else, “Why bring her up? She’s so understanding. She never checks up on me.” Expressionless, I saved the evidence and set my plan in motion. Three months later, I was “diagnosed” with a terminal illness and died in a carefully staged “car accident.” My body consumed by flames. At my funeral, he clutched my urn, devastated. His company’s stock price collapsed overnight. Meanwhile, across the ocean, I watched the news from a mountain resort. I smiled coldly. That is, until I deliberately left a trail on social media. The man who had lost everything came looking for me, eyes bloodshot, kneeling in the snow. “Please, come home with me.” My former rival wrapped an arm around my waist, eyebrow raised, a smile curling his lips. “She’s my wife. And you are?”

Kelsey POV After seven years with Griffin, I received a special anniversary gift. Not jewelry. Not the Hampton property. But an automatically backed-up dashcam recording from the cloud. The screen was pitch black-the lens clearly covered by a coat-but I could hear the audio crystal clear. “Griffin, not here. Someone might see us.” It was a girl’s voice, tinged with panic but more prominently, rapid breathing. Then came the rustle of fabric, the mechanical sound of a seat reclining, and a man’s low, triumphant laugh. “What are you afraid of? This car has privacy glass. No one can see anything from outside.” That was my husband Griffin’s voice. I would never forget the sound of that moment, even if I turned to ashes. Just ten minutes earlier, he’d called me, his voice gentle as if soothing a child. “Babe, I’m stuck in a multinational video conference at the office. I’ll have to cancel tonight’s anniversary dinner. I had my assistant send that latest haute couture dress home-try it on first.” The recording continued. “Gentle… that’s the tie Kelsey gave you.” “Why bring her up? Focus.” “But aren’t you supposed to be with her tonight for your anniversary? I’m taking up your time-won’t she be angry?” “She won’t. Kelsey’s so understanding. She never checks up on me.” Then came the sound of a zipper opening, heavy breathing, the sharp clink of a metal belt buckle hitting the car window. And those nauseating wet sounds, echoing with perfect clarity in my study-a room that might have once felt warm but now felt deathly silent. I listened without expression. I didn’t cry. My hands didn’t shake. I simply clicked “Save” with cold precision, backing up the forty-minute audio file to three different encrypted cloud drives. It was 3 PM. I had been in the kitchen preparing his favorite lasagna. The oven’s heat had scalded my hand, raising a blister. I looked down at the red mark on my hand and suddenly felt nauseous. All that devotion now seemed like nothing more than a ridiculous comedy show. Every media outlet called Griffin the “devoted husband.” When I was twenty and hospitalized with appendicitis, Griffin was so worried he canceled a hundred-million-dollar deal to stay by my bedside for three days and nights. He insisted on feeding me water himself, on wiping my face with his own hands. At twenty-two, when my graduation exhibition was vandalized, Griffin flew in two thousand blue enchantress roses from the Netherlands by private helicopter, filling the entire hall. He knelt on one knee and proposed. “My Kelsey deserves the very best this world has to offer.” At twenty-four, when I mentioned wanting to see the Northern Lights, he cleared his schedule for half a month and took me to Iceland. Holding me in the freezing night, he whispered, “Whatever stars you want, I’ll pluck them from the sky for you.” Turns out those star-plucking hands were also eager to unbutton someone else’s clothes.. Turns out Griffin, who swore he’d fight the whole world for me, would also work up a sweat over another woman. Even with that lucky coin I gave him still in his pocket. The girl’s name was Joyce. I’d seen her before. She was a scholarship intern Griffin had sponsored, only three months into the company. Her features bore a slight resemblance to mine, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that she had that kind of naive, timid innocence fresh out of school-something I, the so-called “perfect wife,” had long since lost. My phone vibrated. An iMessage from Griffin. “Babe, meeting’s over. Heading back now. Got your favorite red velvet cake. Wait for me.” Looking at the words on screen, I smiled bitterly. If I hadn’t heard that recording, he’d seem absolutely perfect. Ten minutes later, the fingerprint lock chimed. Griffin walked in, wearing just the right amount of fatigue. He wore his charcoal gray bespoke overcoat, his tie knotted meticulously-the very tie Joyce had mentioned in the recording. He carried an elegant cake box. Seeing me on the sofa, he strode over immediately, his eyes full of adoration. “Why aren’t the lights on? It’s bad for your eyes.” He set down the cake and moved to kiss my forehead, as he always did. I instinctively turned my head away. Griffin froze for a moment, but he didn’t get angry. He just reached out to feel my forehead. “What’s wrong? Not feeling well?” His palm was warm, carrying a faint tobacco scent, along with a subtle, cloying cheap perfume smell. Forcing down the churning in my stomach, I didn’t push him away. I stood up and said, “Just a bit tired.” Griffin immediately showed his usual concerned expression, pressing me back down onto the sofa. He knelt on one knee before me, looking up and saying, “I’m sorry, today was unexpected. That board of directors is such a pain to deal with. Since we missed dinner, I promise next year’s anniversary, I’ll spend the whole day with you.” As he spoke, he pulled a velvet box from his pocket and opened it, revealing an enormous pink diamond ring. “This is my apology. I won it at a Christie’s auction-one of a kind in the world.” I looked at the ring. The pink diamond was dazzling, priceless. But I remembered clearly-just ten minutes ago, Joyce had posted an Instagram Story set to “close friends only.” The photo showed a young hand wearing that very pink diamond ring, with Griffin’s Maybach passenger seat in the background. The caption read: “Some things I can’t own, but trying them on still makes me happy. Thanks, boss.” Turns out what I got was secondhand goods someone else had already tried on. Even the “one of a kind” claim was a lie. I didn’t take the box. I looked into Griffin’s seemingly loving eyes and suddenly said, “Your tie is crooked.” Griffin reflexively touched his tie, his expression flawless. “Is it? Must have bumped it sitting through that long meeting.” I reached out and touched the silk tie. The texture was cool and smooth. Suddenly, I yanked hard, tightening it around his neck. Griffin was forced to lean forward, his face nearly pressed against mine. He looked surprised, then smiled. “Babe, so passionate tonight?” I stared into his eyes, my voice eerily calm. “Griffin, if you ever betray me, I’ll kill you.” Griffin froze. Then he grasped my hand and kissed it, his eyes so sincere it made me sick. “Kelsey, what are you talking about? You’re the only woman in my heart for life. If I betray you, you won’t have to do anything-I’ll jump off the company building myself.” Such beautiful promises. All complete bullshit. I released my grip and smiled. “Just joking. I’m going to take a bath.” I turned and headed upstairs. The moment I turned, the smile vanished from my face, leaving only ice-cold emptiness. I walked into the bathroom and locked the door. I turned on the shower, using the water to cover all sounds. Then I retrieved a backup phone from the hidden compartment deep in the bathroom cabinet and made an international call. “Initiate Plan B.” “I want all assets under my name secretly transferred within three months.” “Also, help me forge medical records-something terminal.” Since Griffin loved putting on such devoted performances, I’d put on the ultimate show with him. A show that would leave him ruined and regretful for the rest of his life. After hanging up, I switched to the monitoring software on this phone. The screen showed real-time footage of the living room downstairs. In the frame, Griffin was loosening his tie. Just then, the cloning software on my end vibrated-it had synced a message from his phone. It was a “disappearing photo” from Joyce. In the picture, she wore an oversized men’s white shirt, a vivid hickey on her collarbone. The caption read: “Your shirt smells like you. I don’t want to wash it.” I stared coldly at the screen as Griffin frowned and quickly replied: “Delete it. Don’t send photos like this again. Kelsey might see.” After sending that message, I watched his sickeningly practiced routine-delete the conversation, clear the cache, eliminate all traces. Having completed these steps, he looked up toward the second-floor bathroom. Even through the surveillance screen, I could feel his gaze shifting back to that chillingly “tender” look. I knew him too well. He craved Joyce’s young, vibrant body as relief from his tedious work. But he loved even more the shell of the “perfect family” I provided him. I was his weakness, his bottom line, and the indispensable wife maintaining his upper-class status. Right now, he must be confidently thinking that as long as he hid things well enough, he could have both women. Forever.

Kelsey POV Griffin kept his word. Over the next few days, he played the perfect husband to a T. Making breakfast every morning, driving me to and from work on time. He even turned down two important business dinners to come home and watch those old Hollywood black-and-white films with me. If that dashcam recording weren’t still sitting on my hard drive, I might have thought it was all just a nightmare. Friday evening. I came out after my bath to find Griffin sitting on the bed, on the phone. Seeing me, he made no attempt to hide it, saying into the phone, “That’s it then. Process her as a standard resignation.” Hanging up, he naturally took the towel and began drying my damp hair. “There’s an issue with Joyce’s project.” He explained casually, appearing shockingly candid. “She’s new to the company. Capable, but too inexperienced. I had the admin department transfer her.” Sitting at my vanity, I looked at that gentle, considerate face in the mirror and said lightly, “Since you personally selected her as an intern, you should really mentor her more.” Griffin’s movements were gentle, his fingers threading through my hair as if handling a priceless treasure. “You’re truly magnanimous, Kelsey.” He kissed the top of my head. “By the way, we’re going to Las Vegas this weekend. We made a wish at that chapel there once-this time we’re going back to fulfill it. You haven’t been feeling well, so just wait at the hotel suite. I’ll go to the chapel to make a donation.” My body tensed. Las Vegas. Where we fell in love. Three years ago, Griffin’s company faced bankruptcy. Without telling him, I liquidated the stocks and trust fund my parents left me, scraping together seventeen million dollars for him. To help him rise again, I spent three days and nights at that old chapel, dropping in my last coin and praying. When Griffin found out, he held me and wept, swearing he’d never betray me. He later retrieved that coin and kept it with him always. “Alright.” I lowered my eyes, hiding the mockery beneath. Sunday, Las Vegas. Griffin indeed didn’t let me go to the chapel. “The desert climate is too dry out there. Your cold just got better-don’t catch a chill.” He adjusted the hotel suite temperature and covered my legs with a blanket. “I’ll be right back.” Watching his figure disappear into the elevator, I pulled out my phone. I opened the burner account I used specifically to monitor Griffin’s social media activity. Sure enough, Joyce had updated her Instagram Story. Location: Las Vegas, Little White Wedding Chapel. The image showed her from behind at the chapel entrance, sunlight making her look particularly angelic. The text read: “He said he only hopes I stay safe.” The second image was a custom-made gold coin. Exquisitely crafted, engraved with her initials-an expensive custom piece. Completely different from the ordinary one-dollar coin I’d tossed into the wishing pool years ago. I pushed open the suite door, wrapped my coat tighter, and took a cab to that chapel. Today, I would witness this scene with my own eyes. On a bench in the garden behind the chapel, Griffin and Joyce were embracing. He had no donation, no prayers at all. Griffin had Joyce pressed against the bench back, kissing her. Joyce toyed with that custom gold coin in her hand, saying coyly, “Griffin, is this for me? But doesn’t Kelsey have a coin too?” “That one’s already rusted.” Griffin’s voice carried disgust. “Plus it’s just a one-dollar coin-so cheap. Doesn’t match my status now. This one’s solid gold.” “Then why don’t you throw away the old one?” “I’ve been carrying it out of habit, too lazy to throw it away. Besides, she exchanged her entire fortune for it back then. If I toss it, she’ll lose her mind. Better not to stir up trouble.” “It bothers me to see it.” Joyce squirmed in Griffin’s embrace, holding up the gold coin. “This one has better energy. You carrying her broken coin-haven’t you forgotten your old flame?” Griffin laughed and kissed Joyce’s hand. “Jealous again.” I watched with my own eyes as Griffin pulled that coin directly from his pocket. “Fine, I’ll listen to you.” He casually tossed it. That coin-carrying all my sincerity and sacrifice-traced an arc through the air. “Clink.” It dropped through a storm drain grate, disappearing into the dark filth below. “Out with the old, in with the new.” Griffin lowered his head and personally placed the gold coin necklace on Joyce. “Happy now? That thing was garbage. You’re my treasure.” Joyce smiled and fell into his embrace. “Love you most, boss.” They walked away from the garden hand in hand. I stood behind a massive sculpture’s shadow, my nails digging deep into my palms. Rusted. Cheap. Too lazy to throw away. So my salvation, given at the cost of everything I had, was just “rusted garbage” in his eyes-kept only because he feared I’d go crazy. I turned toward the storm drain. Through the iron grate, I saw that coin lying among sludge and cigarette butts. Already filthy beyond recognition. Just like our long-rotten relationship. I crouched down. I didn’t retrieve it. Because once something’s dirty, it’s dirty. I didn’t want it anymore. From this day forward, whether you live or die, go bankrupt or go to prison-none of it concerns me. When I returned to the hotel, my hands and feet were ice cold. Ten minutes later, Griffin came back. He carried the scent of chapel incense and Joyce’s cloying perfume. “Did you wait long?” He grabbed my hand the moment he entered. “Why are your hands so cold? Didn’t I tell you to keep the blanket on?” He tucked my hand into his cashmere coat pocket, his tone both scolding and doting. I let him hold my hand, my gaze falling on the empty edge of his pocket. “Where’s that coin?” I asked. Griffin’s answer was airtight. “I accidentally dropped it in the wishing pool while praying at the chapel. The pastor said that’s a good thing-it means God heard my wish-so I didn’t fish it out.” “I see.” My tone was flat. “Then we should really thank God.” “Don’t overthink it. Out with the old, in with the new.” Griffin’s profile was devastatingly handsome. “I’ll have someone custom-make you a better one.” I closed my eyes. “No need. I don’t believe in God anymore.” Griffin laughed. “Don’t believe, then. You have me as your guardian anyway.” On the way back, I saw a red Ferrari pull up beside us. It’s Joyce’s car. The window was half-down. Joyce sat in the driver’s seat, looking at me provocatively, her fingers lightly caressing that custom gold coin. Her lips exaggeratedly mouthed a word. “Winner.” I turned away expressionlessly. Winner? Who the ultimate winner would be-that verdict was still far too early. That evening, I sent an instruction to that mysterious number. “Speed things up. I want to see results within one month.” “Also, contact Erasmus for me.” Erasmus. Head of New York’s largest short-selling firm. Also Griffin’s mortal enemy in business. And the man who once pursued me, only to be rejected and even humiliated by me for Griffin’s sake. To destroy Griffin, Erasmus was the sharpest blade. Even if that blade might cut my own hand first.

Kelsey POV I sat on the living room carpet, holding Griffin’s old discarded iPad. He hadn’t used this device in ages, but he seemed to have overlooked one fatal detail. His Apple ID was still logged in, and all photos synced automatically. The screen suddenly lit up. A photo taken ten minutes ago appeared. The background was the CEO lounge at Griffin’s company headquarters. The subject was Joyce. She was taking a mirror selfie, wearing only an oversized white men’s dress shirt. I knew that shirt all too well-I’d specially flown to Italy last month to have an old tailor custom-make it, with Griffin’s initials embroidered on the collar. The shirttail barely covered her thighs, making her legs look long and pale. Most jarring was the dark red hickey on her neck. The photo came with text-a screenshot of a note. “Boss said I look a hundred times better in his shirt than Kelsey does. He almost tore all the buttons off just now, so naughty.” My finger scrolled across the screen. Next image. A five-second Live Photo. The lens was aimed under that expensive walnut office desk. A long leg in black stockings was sliding up a man’s dress-pants-clad calf. The man’s large hand grabbed that ankle-not pushing it away, but rather caressing it suggestively. The background audio was Griffin’s low voice. “Stop it, I’m reviewing merger documents.” Joyce giggled and asked, “Are the documents prettier, or am I?” Griffin chuckled quietly, and the image cut off. I stared, my face ashen. My stomach felt like it had swallowed lead. My heart felt hooked, tearing out flesh and blood with each beat. This was the man I’d loved for seven years. This was the husband who kissed me every morning before leaving, saying he was “working to support the family.” In his office, he reviewed hundred-million-dollar merger contracts while enjoying a young woman’s teasing. Simultaneously. The sound of the fingerprint lock came from the entrance. Griffin was home. He walked in somewhat hurriedly, still looking down at his phone. Seeing me sitting on the carpet with that old iPad, his eyes clearly flashed with panic. But that panic vanished instantly. After all, he was a seasoned businessman. “Why are you using that old thing?” Griffin approached, reaching out with perfect naturalness. “The screen resolution is terrible-it’ll hurt your eyes. I ordered you the latest Pro. It’ll arrive tomorrow.” He tried to take the iPad. My wrist turned slightly, avoiding his hand. The screen faced him. The photo was still open. That provocative selfie of Joyce wearing his shirt was laid bare before him. The air froze for exactly three seconds. Griffin’s expression didn’t change in the slightest. Even his heartbeat seemed perfectly controlled. He even frowned, displaying just the right amount of disgust and anger. “Who sent this? How did it sync here?” He pulled out his own phone and called his secretary right in front of me, putting it on speaker. “Check my iCloud account immediately. I think it’s been hacked. Someone’s maliciously uploading pornographic images.” “Also, that intern Joyce who resigned recently-did she steal my lounge key? I’m missing a custom shirt.” “Not only did she steal clothes, she dares send photos like this to disgust people. Have legal send her a cease and desist immediately. People like this must face consequences.” He hung up. He crouched down, holding my cold hand, his eyes so sincere he almost looked hurt. “Kelsey, I’m sorry. Security dropped the ball. These young people will do anything to get ahead. Shameless. But I never thought she’d be this bold.” “Trust me. I can barely even remember her face. That shirt? I had someone toss it the second I saw her in it. Too dirty.” Perfect explanation. If I were the naive fool I used to be, I probably would have believed him. He was Griffin, a billionaire. How could he possibly be interested in some ordinary intern? But I’d heard the recording. I’d heard him calling her “little vixen” in the car, praising how “tight” she was. Watching him play the upright gentleman now just made me sick. “I see.” I closed the screen and casually tossed the iPad into the nearby trash. “Then let’s throw it away. It really is dirty.” Griffin visibly relaxed. He thought the matter was settled. He lifted me from the floor and walked toward the dining room. “To make amends, I personally cooked your favorite lobster risotto tonight. Stop looking at this garbage-it ruins your mood.” I leaned against him, listening to his strong heartbeat. One beat, two beats. Each one the rhythm of lies. During dinner, Griffin carefully extracted the lobster meat and fed it to me. I took a bite, then suddenly spoke. “Griffin, I want to sell that Hampton beach house.” Griffin’s hands paused mid-extraction. “Why the sudden decision to sell?” “There might be something unclean there.” I sipped white wine, speaking casually. “Last time I stayed there, I kept having nightmares. Plus a real estate agent friend said the market’s at peak prices right now.” That villa was Griffin’s engagement gift to me. Worth forty million. “Alright.” Griffin didn’t hesitate. He set the sliced meat on my plate. “It’s in your name. Your call. Keep the money as your nest egg. If it’s not enough, I’ll send more.” He was so confident. Confident that I loved him desperately and would never leave him. So he didn’t care about those tens of millions of dollars at all. “Thank you, honey.” I smiled. But the smile didn’t reach my eyes. That very night, I contacted that real estate agent friend. Only one requirement: cash deal, urgent sale, complete the paperwork within three days. All received funds to be transferred to an anonymous trust account in the Cayman Islands. That was my “escape pod.” And my offering to Erasmus. Late at night, Griffin’s breathing grew steady and slow. I picked up his phone. The password was my birthday. It never changed. Unlocked. Opened WhatsApp. His chat with Joyce had been wiped clean. But in Messenger drafts, I found an unsent message. “Sorry you had to go through this, babe. Tomorrow’s just for show. Go to HR first thing and process the transfer. You’ll be operations director at the branch. Be good. I’ll take you to Tahiti in a few days. Just the two of us.” I stared at those words for a long time. Then screenshot, sent to my secret email. Deleted the record, put the phone back. I lay back in bed, my back to Griffin. Tears silently streamed down, soaking the silk pillowcase. This would be the last time I cried for this man. Starting tomorrow, even if it meant going to hell, I’d drag him down with me.

Kelsey POV One week later, Metropolitan Charity Gala, New York. Griffin arrived with me in full formal attire. I wore a black velvet backless gown, like a proud black swan. Around my neck was an emerald jewelry set-my grandmother’s legacy, my final dignity and confidence. Griffin wore a purely handmade Italian tuxedo, handsome and upright. The moment we entered, we became the focus of all cameras. “Mr. Griffin and his wife are truly a model couple.” “Seven years married and still this devoted-practically royalty among the elite.” Compliments and envy surrounded us. Griffin stayed attentively protective, shielding me from drinks, adjusting my dress-every detail performed to perfection. Then the charity auction began. The finale item was a blue diamond necklace called “Ocean’s Tears,” starting bid five million dollars. “Like it?” Griffin whispered in my ear, his breath warming my neck. I glanced listlessly at the large screen. “Too ostentatious.” “That’s what makes it worthy of you.” Griffin raised his paddle without hesitation. “Six million.” “Seven million.” “Eight million.” The price skyrocketed. Finally, Griffin won it for twelve million dollars. The entire hall erupted in applause.The auctioneer exclaimed excitedly, “Congratulations, Mr. Griffin! Is this an anniversary gift for Mrs. Kelsey?” Griffin took the microphone, gazing at me with deep affection. “My wife deserves all the beauty this world has to offer. This necklace only gains a soul when it graces her beautiful neck.” Under everyone’s envious and jealous gazes, I cooperatively displayed a happy, bashful smile. Only I knew how much I was digging my nails into my own hand beneath the tablecloth. Because I had seen her. In the most inconspicuous shadowy corner of the banquet hall stood a girl in a server’s uniform. It was Joyce. She hadn’t gone to the branch office at all. She’d found a way to sneak in here. She held a champagne tray, those eyes full of greed and jealousy fixed on that blue diamond necklace on stage. Midway through the gala, I went to the restroom. Just as I turned the corridor corner, from the corner of my eye through a half-open lounge door, I saw two entangled figures inside. By the moonlight streaming in, I recognized them as Griffin and Joyce. That “Ocean’s Tears” necklace worth over twelve million dollars was now hanging around Joyce’s pale neck. The blue diamond glittered with a cold light in the darkness. I quickly pulled out my phone and pressed record. “Like it?” Griffin’s voice carried heavy breathing. “Love it to death.” Joyce caressed the diamond lovingly. “But you just publicly bought this for that old hag Kelsey.” “That was a PR show for the media and board of directors.” Griffin kissed her neck frantically. “Only you are the little vixen in my heart. On her, it’s just an expensive display rack. On you, you’re the one I truly want to spoil.” “Do I have to return it to her later?” “No need. I already had someone make a high-quality fake. The naked eye can’t tell the difference. You keep the real one. I’ll put the fake on her later.” Real diamond for the mistress, fake for the wife. I forced down the urge to burst in and tear their faces apart, my nails digging into my palms. Save the recording. Turn and leave. Back in the banquet hall, I acted as if nothing had happened, chatting and laughing with the socialites over champagne. Ten minutes later, Griffin returned. He held that exquisite velvet jewelry box, walked up to me, and opened it with great ceremony. “Kelsey, let me put it on you.” The necklace lay quietly in the box, still dazzling. But I could tell at a glance. The fire was wrong. A real diamond’s brilliance is cold and sharp, but this one, though exceptionally crafted, refracted light with a dull, cheap quality. It was the fake. Griffin really had skills-he must have premeditated this “substitution” long ago. I obediently turned around, lifting my long hair to expose my neck. The cold metal touched my skin like a damp, cold serpent coiling around me. “Beautiful.” Griffin praised sincerely in my ear. “Only you in the world can wear it with such nobility.” I touched that fake necklace, turned around, and smiled radiantly. “Thank you, honey. I love it.” “Oh, when I went to the restroom earlier, I think I saw that former intern Joyce.” I suddenly spoke up. Griffin’s eyes instantly contracted, then immediately returned to normal. “You must have seen wrong. She’s already been transferred to the Seattle branch.” “Really? Maybe my eyes were playing tricks.” I sipped champagne. “After all, that cheap, overpowering perfume smell really shouldn’t appear at this kind of event.” Griffin’s smile stiffened for an instant. The gala ended. Sitting in the luxury car’s back seat on the way home, I sent Erasmus an encrypted message. “The evidence chain is complete. The blue diamond is fake-I’ll get the appraisal report. Erasmus, you can launch your takeover plan. I want to see him utterly disgraced.” Erasmus replied instantly. “You’re ruthless. Wearing a fake and still putting on an act with him.” I replied: “If I’m not ruthless, how can I send him to hell?” Back home, I removed that fake necklace and casually tossed it into the bottom of my jewelry box. Griffin hugged me from behind. “Why’d you take it off?” “Too heavy. My neck hurts.” I turned to avoid his kiss. “I’m going to take a bath.” In the bathroom. I looked at myself in the mirror. The inferior metal necklace had rubbed a faint red mark on my neck. I splashed cold water on my face again and again, the hatred in my eyes growing clearer with each droplet. Griffin, every fake gift you’ve given me, every lie you’ve told-I’ll repay them all tenfold. Just wait and see.

Kelsey POV Half a month later, Griffin claimed he needed to go on a business trip to Tokyo, Japan. “There’s a tricky cross-border merger to negotiate in Tokyo for a few days.” As he packed, he deliberately brought two boxes of “peace crosses” I’d obtained for him years ago-props to maintain his “devoted” persona in front of me. I leaned against the doorframe, holding a cup of hot milk. “How many days?” “Five. If you miss me, I’ll compress the negotiations to three days.” “No need. Work comes first.” I said considerately. The moment Griffin’s front foot left, my back foot booked a flight. Not to Tokyo, but to Hokkaido. I’d planted military-grade tracking software in Griffin’s private phone. That red dot wasn’t in bustling Tokyo at all, but at an extremely private hot spring resort hotel in Hokkaido. When checking in, I specifically pulled strings to get the suite next to Griffin’s. This hotel emphasized natural authenticity. Though privacy was good, the bamboo fences between outdoor balconies didn’t provide ideal soundproofing. At 10 PM, I sat in a rattan chair on the balcony, swirling a glass of sake, a high-sensitivity voice recorder on my lap. The sound of trickling water came from next door. Along with that voice that made me physically nauseated. “Griffin, the water’s so hot. Be gentle.” Joyce’s voice was coquettish to the bone, mixing clearly with the sound of splashing water. “Hot is stimulating. That’s why I brought you here.” Griffin’s voice was low and husky. “Been stifled in that proper office setting, haven’t you? No one knows us here. Scream however you want.” “Do you love me?” “Love you. Love this body of yours to death.” “What about Kelsey?” “Why bring up that wooden plank? She’s like a dead fish in bed-rigid and boring. Nothing like how well you know how to play.” My grip on the sake glass suddenly tightened, my knuckles turning white. Wooden plank. Dead fish. Rigid and boring. So that was his true assessment of me. To accommodate his so-called “work stress,” I was extremely gentle and considerate every time, forcing myself to cooperate even when physically uncomfortable. In his mouth, all that consideration became evidence of my being boring. I pulled out my phone and dialed Griffin’s number. The water sounds next door instantly stopped. Griffin’s voice filled with panic. “Shh, don’t make a sound. It’s that yellow-faced hag calling.” Joyce covered her mouth with a giggling laugh. The call connected. “Hello, babe?” Griffin’s voice switched seamlessly, sounding exhausted. “Why aren’t you asleep yet? If you hadn’t called, I would’ve almost fallen asleep in the conference room.” I listened to the deliberately suppressed breathing next door, my tone calm as water. “Just checking in. Where are you?” “At the hotel. Just finished the third round of video conferences. My head’s about to explode from exhaustion. I have a whole day of negotiations tomorrow too.” “Alone?” “Of course I’m alone. Who else would there be? You think I’m keeping a mistress?” Griffin’s tone carried a hint of helpless indulgence. “Kelsey, stop being silly. I’m very tired, and I miss you.” At the same time, a crisp sound came from next door. “Smack.” The sound of a palm slapping wet skin. Joyce couldn’t hold back a short cry of surprise. “Ah…” Griffin’s end went instantly silent-clearly he’d covered the phone. A few seconds later, he uncovered it and explained, “Room service just brought water and accidentally broke a glass. Babe, it’s really late. You should rest too. I love you.” “I love you too.” I hung up. Next door immediately erupted in unrestrained laughter. “You scared me to death. You’re so bad, deliberately slapping my butt just now.” Joyce said coquettishly. “Who told you to moan so loud? Almost gave us away.” “It’d be better if we were exposed. Let her know whose man you really are now.” I turned off the voice recorder and saved the file. Standing up, I walked to the balcony’s edge. Through the gaps in the bamboo screen, in the moonlight, two bodies in the outdoor hot spring pool next door were entwined like snakes. I watched with cold eyes for a full minute. That was my complete farewell to my past self. Back in my room, I lay on the tatami mat. The commotion next door continued. I put on top-of-the-line noise-canceling headphones and played Beethoven’s “Symphony of Fate.” My heart was surprisingly calm. The Kelsey who would cry late into the night over her husband’s infidelity was already dead. The one alive now was an avenger.

Kelsey POV On the third day after Griffin returned to the country, he worked late in the study until the early morning hours. I pushed open the door carrying a glass of warm milk with calming ingredients. The computer screen was still lit, displaying not financial statements but an obstetric ultrasound report. Griffin reacted extremely quickly, frantically closing the window. His mouse even knocked over the black coffee at his elbow. Brown liquid spilled across the desk, dripping along the edge onto the Damascus carpet. “Why aren’t you asleep yet?” He stood up abruptly, using his body to block the screen, looking somewhat panicked but quickly forcing composure. “The company has an urgent project. I’ll sleep once I finish handling it.” I set the milk at a clean spot on the desk corner. “I was worried when you didn’t come back to the bedroom.” I pretended to glance casually at that darkened screen and asked calmly, “What was that interface just now? It looked like a hospital test report.” Griffin’s fingers trembled involuntarily. “Nothing. The company VP isn’t feeling well. He asked me to help look at his physical examination report from Mayo Clinic.” He walked around the desk and hugged my waist from behind, burying his head in my neck, his voice muffled. “Honey, let’s have a baby.” My body instantly stiffened. Have a baby? For these seven years, every time I brought up wanting a child, Griffin always deflected with excuses like “wanting a few more years of just the two of us” or “not wanting you to suffer through childbirth.” Now that Joyce was “pregnant,” he wanted a child. Did he want to legitimately register that bastard child under my name? Make me raise their child? “We’ll see.” I gently pushed him away. “It’s late. Clean up and get some rest.” Griffin didn’t insist, dropping a kiss on my forehead. “Alright, whatever you say. Oh, I have an important business dinner tomorrow. I won’t be home for dinner.” “Okay.” I turned and walked out of the study. The moment I closed the door, I pulled out my phone. Just ten minutes ago, Joyce had sent me a video. The video background was the back seat of Griffin’s car. The camera shook violently, showing only two entangled legs and clothes scattered on the floor. The audio was crystal clear-sickeningly sweet mixed with physiologically disturbing moans. “Griffin, be gentle. Don’t hurt our baby.” “Relax, I know what I’m doing. It’s only a month old, just an embryo. Not that delicate.” Griffin’s voice sounded abnormally excited. “This is also the first heir to the Griffin family line. You’ve done a great service.” “What about Kelsey? If she finds out I’m pregnant with your child, won’t she lose it?” “Don’t worry about her. With her condition, she can’t get pregnant anyway. Once the baby’s born, we’ll say it’s adopted. Or from a surrogate. Bring it home and have her raise it. That woman’s full of maternal instinct. She’ll love the kid like her own.” “You’re so bad. But I like it.” The video ended there. I stood in the hallway shadows, looking at the last photo on my phone screen. It was a pregnancy test stick photo Joyce had sent, with bright red double lines. The accompanying text read: “Borrowing your nest to hatch my egg. Wealthy families need heirs. If you won’t give birth, someone has to. Don’t be ungrateful.” I deleted the photo and completely cleared the chat history. My fingers flew across the screen as I messaged Erasmus. “The fish took the bait. Send Joyce’s fake pregnancy report to Griffin’s corporate email tomorrow at 9 AM. Use the untraceable IP.” Erasmus replied. “Got it. The ‘scene’ is set. Your double is in position. Tomorrow at 3 PM. Highway 1.” “Good.” I put the phone down and went to sleep. That night, I slept exceptionally well. I knew the real show was finally about to begin.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “360342”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #重生Reborn

My best friend passed away when his wife Laura was eight months pregnant. Laura said she didn’t want her child to grow up without a father. To repay my friend’s life-saving grace, I became the child’s father. Laura loved her work, so I quit my job to become a full-time stay-at-home dad, caring for them for seven years straight. But she remained cold and distant. Only during sex at night would she occasionally show a trace of tenderness. Yet after each time, she would carefully check whether the condom had broken. One night, the condom accidentally broke. Laura flew into a rage and locked me out on the balcony as punishment, leaving me in the pouring rain. Her son came hurrying over with an umbrella. But he coldly walked right past me and handed the umbrella to the nanny who was heading out. In that moment, I decided to leave. Fighting through the weakness of a high fever, I handed her the divorce papers. She frowned in displeasure and asked, “Is this just because of what happened last night?” “Mark, if you hadn’t crossed the line, I wouldn’t have punished you. You should look for the cause in yourself.” I suppressed the urge to defend myself, my voice hoarse as I said, “Just sign it.” “What about our son?” “He was never my biological child anyway. Of course I won’t fight for custody.” “And you don’t need to split any assets with me either. Consider that portion my child support for him.” Laura looked up in surprise. No wonder—after all, I normally cared most about this child. She threatened me with a stern face, “I advise you to quit while you’re ahead. If you keep this up, there’ll be no turning back.” Apparently she was convinced my divorce request was just a tantrum. But what she didn’t know was that from the moment I decided on divorce, I never planned to turn back. I didn’t bother explaining further. Taking the signed divorce agreement, I returned to my room. Seeing me pack my luggage, Laura said, “Mark, the paperwork will still take some time. You don’t need to rush to move out.” I calmly threw her own words back at her. “No thanks. When doing things, it’s better to make a clean break.” She said nothing more. I had a lot of belongings, but I only took the essentials. As I came out dragging my suitcase, John was in the living room reading a science magazine. So disciplined at such a young age, just like his mother. And just like his mother, utterly cold toward me. He put down his book, walked up to me with an impatient expression: “Are you really divorcing Mom?” I nodded. Though his face was expressionless, I still caught the joy flickering in his eyes. Then he spoke to me in a tone of granting a favor: “From now on, I’ll allow you to visit me, but only once a month. More than that might make Ivan unhappy.” He was talking about Laura’s first love, Ivan. If Ivan hadn’t had that incident that forced his whole family to immigrate, Laura probably never would have married my brother. Recently Ivan returned to the country, and the two reconnected. She often took John to see Ivan too. Ivan was a race car driver. John thought he was cool and impressive. But he didn’t know I had won multiple consecutive CRC and CTCC annual driver championships. He hated me so much he wouldn’t even give me a chance to take him to race cars. Before, I would feel hurt and sad that he liked Ivan but not me. But now my heart was still as water. Last night’s incident had completely opened my eyes. You can’t domesticate an ungrateful wolf. I didn’t even give him a glance, just opened the door and left. As I neared the main gate, Laura came out. “Why the rush? You haven’t even found a place to stay yet.” I said nothing, opening the front door. “Where are you planning to go? I’ll have the driver take you.” “No need.” After being drenched in last night’s rainstorm all night, my whole body was burning hot now, my head splitting with pain. Dragging a body that could collapse at any moment, I used my last bit of strength to walk out the door. But I’d barely taken a few steps outside before my vision went black and I collapsed.

I woke up again in a hospital. A passing lady had brought me in. The doctor said my condition was very serious and asked why I had no family with me. “Sorry doctor, I have no family.” The doctor’s eyes immediately filled with sympathy. I smiled bitterly. A complete stranger could show me kindness, yet the mother and son I’d poured my heart out for seven years could be so cruel. For the first time, I felt these years truly weren’t worth it. After several IV drips and the fever subsiding, I left the hospital. I really wanted to take a spontaneous trip and clear my head. But life isn’t a TV drama. I hadn’t worked all these years, and Laura only gave me a little grocery money. I hadn’t saved much at all. I temporarily stayed at a hotel. The next day, I called my old boss at the TV station. Before marriage, I was the most popular host on the station’s weather program. When I decided to resign, many managers thought it was a shame. But I was single-mindedly devoted to Laura and gave up my own future. Back then, young and impetuous, I truly believed sincerity could be met with sincerity. What a pitiful ending I got instead. Seven years away from the camera—I honestly hadn’t held much hope. Unexpectedly, my boss didn’t hesitate and directly arranged for me to meet the station director. Though I’d been busy caring for them mother and son all these years, I still made time to work out, keeping myself in good shape. Combined with my previously outstanding professional abilities, after discussion the leadership decided to give me another chance. I took my luggage and moved into the apartment the director prepared for me, starting a new life. After a week of familiarizing myself with operations, I smoothly returned to work. My first day back on set broke the highest viewership record of the seven years since I’d left. The director was especially pleased and held a celebration banquet. When juniors toasted me, I instinctively refused: “Sorry, I don’t drink.” Only after speaking did I remember I wasn’t a non-drinker—I’d quit because Laura once said she didn’t like me drinking. Now divorced, whether she liked it or not no longer mattered. I smiled and accepted the glass: “Just kidding, I can drink!” With that, I tilted my head back and downed it in one gulp. After several rounds, I was getting drunk when my phone rang. It was the police calling. “Mr. Mark, we’ve found your nephew.” I sobered up immediately and rushed to the police station by taxi. When I saw that little guy at the station, my eyes instantly reddened. They say nephews resemble their uncles—absolutely true. This little guy was practically a miniature version of me. Sure enough, the police told me that after genetic comparison with my sister and brother-in-law, they confirmed this was their lost son. Years ago, my sister had taken Martinez to the park. She turned around to buy him cotton candy, and he disappeared. My sister, consumed by guilt and grief, had a mental breakdown. Ten days after losing her child, unable to bear it, she committed suicide. Losing both wife and child in succession, my brother-in-law Tommy aged a decade overnight. This grown man cried like a child. Watching him hurt so much. At the time, John was only 3 years old and extremely clingy with me—he’d only stop crying when I held him. But helplessly, to help Tommy search for Martinez, I had to painfully leave John with his grandmother. A month later, someone said they’d seen a similar-looking child in a town. Tommy rushed there immediately, only to find the child wasn’t even the right gender. Tommy was heartbroken. In his daze, he fell into a river and drowned. Not long after, police told me that human traffickers had smuggled the children to America, but the boat they were on had capsized and sunk. “Everyone on board perished. Martinez should have been among them…” With that, all leads went completely cold, and Laura and John became my only two remaining relatives.

After handling things there, I went to my mother-in-law’s to pick up John. But I never expected that when John saw me, he would never call me Dad again. He didn’t remember me. Later when he started school and interacted with classmates, he disliked me even more. He thought I wasn’t impressive like other dads, saying I had no proper job. The officer’s words pulled me from my memories. Turns out Martinez was clever and hid in a dumpster, successfully escaping. He never boarded that boat. A homeless man had taken him home, and the two had depended on each other all these years. Recently that old man passed away. Someone discovered the child living alone and called the police, which led to finding him. Martinez was dark-skinned and thin, looking so timid and pitiful it truly broke my heart. I crouched down and patted his little head. “Don’t be afraid. I’m your Uncle Mark.” His eyes blinked, not knowing what to think. “Baby, you’ll never go hungry or cold again. From now on, you’ll live with me.” Tommy was an orphan with no grandparents, so now I was Martinez’s only living relative in this world. I brought Martinez home, bathed him, and dressed him in new clothes. Holding his little hand, I discovered it was covered in frostbite. I got the medicine kit and gently applied ointment. The little guy was tough. Though it clearly hurt, he endured without making a sound. I put on a cartoon for him. “Stay here by yourself for a bit. I’ll make you a bowl of noodles.” When I came out with the food to call him, I found he’d fallen asleep at some point. I covered him with a blanket. He woke up. Rubbing his eyes, he looked adorably confused. I was reminded of how John used to look just as clingy every time he woke up from naps when he was little. Hugging my neck, slow and endearing as a sloth—so incredibly cute. I couldn’t help pulling Martinez into my arms. He didn’t hug my neck like John used to, but instead touched my face. I came back to my senses. “Martinez, I’m Mark. From now on you’ll be with me, and this will be our home.” The little guy looked up at me, his eyes bright. “Mark? Then why aren’t you Dad?” “I’m your mother’s brother, not your father. Do you want to see your mom and dad?” He nodded. I held him as I showed him old photos one by one, telling him their stories. After looking at the photos, he suddenly kissed my cheek and called me Uncle Mark in his sweet little voice. In that moment, I felt my heart melting. Martinez was old enough for school but had never attended. I quickly contacted a kindergarten to enroll him. He adapted very well, without the crying and fussing John had when he started. Life proceeded in an orderly fashion, and Martinez and I grew closer and closer. I enjoyed making snacks in my free time. Things John had scorned, Martinez ate with delight. This day I was making pumpkin balls for Martinez again when I received a call from Laura. She seemed to have just woken up, her voice hoarse as she asked, “There’s a mall opening ceremony tomorrow.” I instinctively told her which dress to pair with which jewelry, even specifying exactly which closet and which position. After speaking, I fell silent, realizing this had become mechanical memory. Laura still didn’t seem fully awake. I could hear her rummaging around through the phone. The other end stayed quiet. I reminded her, “If there’s nothing else, I’m hanging up.” She suddenly asked if I wanted to go with her tomorrow. I found it ironic. Before, when I’d asked her to bring me to events, she never agreed once. Now divorced, why would I go? “I’ll pass. And don’t call me about these things anymore. Whether you hire a stylist or ask the nanny, just stop asking me. We’re divorced now.”

Just as I was about to hang up, I heard her change the subject. “I’m taking John to TK Plaza for swimming lessons today. You could come see him.” “No need.” Without waiting for her response, I hung up decisively. Putting down my phone, I continued making food for Martinez. Life continued peacefully this way. Until that day when I came out of the broadcast room and received a call from an unknown number. It was John’s kindergarten head teacher. She said today was parent-child art day, requiring parents and children to participate together. All the parents had arrived except John’s. The teacher warmly invited me to come. I interrupted her: “Sorry teacher, I’ve already divorced John’s mother. Custody was awarded to his mom. I won’t be handling these matters anymore.” The teacher sounded embarrassed. I continued, “Is John next to you?” Getting an affirmative answer, I asked her to put it on speakerphone. In front of the whole class of students and parents, I spoke coolly: “John, you also confirmed last time that your mom and I are divorced. I’m no longer your father. I won’t be handling your affairs anymore. Don’t call me again from now on.” After finishing, I apologized to the teacher and hung up. After work, I picked up Martinez from kindergarten. We went for hot pot, and the table next to us was actually celebrating a birthday. I suddenly thought of Martinez’s birthday. Checking the calendar, it was this Sunday. On Sunday, I pushed back all my work in advance, planning to properly spend time with Martinez. He surely hadn’t celebrated a birthday all these years. After ordering, I told him to wait at the table while I got the cake. Carrying the cake toward the restaurant, I unexpectedly ran into Laura. Ivan stood beside her. Ivan spoke first: “Weren’t you making a fuss about divorcing Laura?” I ignored him and walked past them toward the interior, but Laura grabbed me. Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “Weren’t you so tough? I knew you couldn’t last a few days. Now here you are crawling back with a cake for your son’s birthday. Aren’t you embarrassed?” I was speechless. “Let go. Who said I’m celebrating his birthday?” Laura stiffened. “If not for your son, then for who?” I didn’t want to argue with her anymore. “I’m done talking. Move aside. You three have a nice family celebration.” Laura’s face darkened. “Mark, enough. Don’t wait until I really get angry.” I pushed past her directly and entered the restaurant. Martinez saw me and waved with a smile. I waved back at him too. John sat at the table next to Martinez’s. He looked at me with disgust, clearly mistaking my wave as directed at him. I ignored him and sat down next to Martinez. When Laura and the others came in, they looked shocked to see me with Martinez. “Mark, who is he?” “None of your business.” Laura was furious but restrained herself in public. Martinez and I enjoyed our meal wholeheartedly. Near the end, Martinez wanted to use the restroom. He said he didn’t need me to accompany him, so I let him go. I saw John also heading toward the restroom. Probably just going to the bathroom—I didn’t think much of it. But soon after, a server shouted: “Quick, whose parents are these? Two kids are fighting here!” I jumped up and ran toward the restroom. John and Martinez were lying on the floor, both injured. Seeing me, John finally couldn’t hold back tears, his eyes red as he said pitifully, “Dad, it hurts.” Under his helpless, pitiful gaze, I unhesitatingly crouched down and picked up Martinez.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “360341”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #魔幻Magic #惊悚Thriller #浪漫Romance

Just because I refused to pay the $300,000 wedding expenses for my sister Marta’s son Thomas, Marta actually took me to court. At the hearing, she wept bitterly: “To put you through college, I worked everywhere, enduring nothing but disdain, and it ruined my health.” “Now you’re making a six-figure salary but won’t help me! Do you have any humanity left?!” Seeing me sitting unmoved in the defendant’s seat, she trembled as she revealed the horrifying scars on her leg, then pulled out a disability certificate: “I even became permanently disabled because of you—a heavy object fell from a construction site and crushed my thigh. Now I’m asking you to repay your tuition. Isn’t that reasonable?!” My mother also nodded in confirmation, denouncing my ingratitude. Everyone present condemned me in chorus: “She’s so heartless!” “$300,000 is getting off too easy! Judge, you must make her pay double!” Looking at everyone’s righteous indignation, I found it all absurdly ironic. She said she put me through four years of college. But I never even attended community college!

“Alice, I’ve given you everything my whole life, and this is how you repay me?” Marta roared in the courtroom: “I sacrificed everything for you. Now I’m only asking you to contribute a small portion of your income to help Thomas prepare for his wedding, and you can’t even do that! Are you even human?!” She was so agitated that her body kept trembling, tears and snot streaming down her face. The people present saw her worn-out clothes and deeply wrinkled face and felt tremendous sympathy. The looks they gave me were sharp with condemnation. Looking at the haggard Marta, I sighed helplessly: “Marta, I’ve told you many times—I never went to college, and I never received a cent of tuition money from you.” In my senior year of high school, my grades were actually pretty good, but my mother Ruth said the family was in debt. With no other choice, I had to give up on college and went north to find work. I could only come home once a year during the holidays, but when she saw me, she either wouldn’t speak at all, or when she did, it was nothing but cold sarcasm and mockery. She didn’t even invite me to her wedding later, or even to her son’s birthday party. Twenty-plus years passed, and then she suddenly came looking for me, insisting I repay her for college tuition to help fund Thomas’s wedding—but I never went to college at all. Seeing me refuse to admit it, she furiously took me to court. “You’re lying! Without my support, how could you possibly have gotten a six-figure salary at a foreign company with a high degree?!” “Pay me back right now—that’s my blood and sweat! Have you completely lost your conscience? Why are you ruining Thomas’s happiness?!” She grabbed my collar, relentless: “I suffered so much, only to raise an ungrateful wolf like you!” Though Thomas wasn’t as agitated as Marta, he was clearly upset too: “My mom put you through school and didn’t even care about me, her own son. I’ve been working part-time jobs to pay my own tuition all these years. If it weren’t for the wedding and us being completely broke, she wouldn’t be forcing you to pay her back.” Looking at Marta’s emotional breakdown, I felt deeply uncomfortable: “Marta, it’s not that I won’t pay you back—you’ve got the wrong person. Look, here’s the evidence!” As Marta spoke, she threw out printed bank transfer receipts she’d prepared in advance. “Judge, all the transfer records from these years are right here.” “During her four years of college, I sent her a total of $360,000. I’m only asking for $300,000 back and she won’t even agree! She’s inhuman!” “$360,000?!” I was shocked. “How is that possible?” Seeing how righteously confident I was, she shoved the receipts roughly in my face: “Alice, you dare lie to my face—isn’t this your account? Isn’t the recipient you?” “It is my account, but—” Before I could finish, Marta immediately turned around: “Judge, she’s already admitted it. Please render your verdict!”

Looking at such exaggerated, frequent transfer records, everyone was stunned: “Couldn’t she work part-time herself? Doesn’t the school have financial aid? She’s absolutely shameless.” “She’s treating her own sister like a blood bank.” Amidst the chorus of condemnation, Marta held up her phone: “Even with all this, Alice was constantly dissatisfied. She’d ask me for money basically every other day, and when I really didn’t have any, she’d curse at me over the phone, saying I was useless.” Then she played a recording with my harsh, bitter voice coming through: “Marta, you work every day—how can you not have money? Don’t you dare pretend to be broke, or I’ll come make a scene at your workplace and tell everyone you don’t care about your own sister. I’ll ruin your reputation.” “Did you spend the money on some boy toy? No wonder your ex-husband divorced you, saying you were promiscuous. He was right!” These words stabbed into Marta’s heart like knives. Her face went pale and she could barely stand: “Alice, I put you through school, and you’re not even a little bit grateful!” She took a deep breath and slowly rolled up her sleeve, revealing horrifying scars of varying depths that left everyone present dumbstruck. “This scar is from boiling oil burns. This is from slipping and falling while delivering food in winter. This is a knife wound from working in a kitchen…” Then she pulled out a disability certificate: “This is from when I was hauling bricks at a construction site and got hit by falling debris. I barely survived, but one leg is permanently disabled.” “What more do you want from me? Do I have to give you my life to be a good enough sister?” Years of grievance and hardship made her sob uncontrollably, unable to complete another full sentence. Seeing the shocking scars and her grotesquely deformed thighbone, people were completely enraged: “Judge, what are you waiting for? This woman needs to not only pay compensation, but kneel down and apologize!” “This Alice is a demon straight from hell!” “So vicious! This kind of scum doesn’t deserve such a wonderful sister.” As waves of condemnation washed over me, the judge said sternly: “Marta, besides this evidence, do you have any witnesses?” Before he’d even finished speaking, Ruth immediately stood up from the gallery: “Judge, we can testify that everything Marta said is true.” “My husband died early, and my son was too young. I put most of my energy into her, so Marta acted like half a mother in the house.” “It broke my heart to watch. I told her many times to take care of her health, but she was so sensible and obedient. She said Alice was brilliant at her studies, and we should support her education even if it meant selling everything we had.” “Judge, you don’t know this, but over those four years, Marta earned over $30,000 from selling her blood, and she sent it all to Alice.” When everyone heard that Marta had even sold her blood to put me through school, they couldn’t take it anymore. They all stood up suggesting the judge sentence me to death. “How is this any different from drinking someone’s blood? She doesn’t deserve to be human!” “She’s completely beyond redemption.” Seeing everyone on their side, Ruth’s lips curved into a slight smile: “Alice is cold-hearted. She’s brought shame to her family and corrupted our society. I also support severe punishment!”

Ruth’s words received nods of agreement from everyone present. The judge looked at me sternly: “Alice, do you have anything to say?” Seeing me remain silent, my brother Chris immediately jumped up with accusations: “Guilty conscience, right? The evidence is overwhelming—you’ve got nothing to say!” “Nothing to say? Chris, who actually took Marta’s money? You know better than anyone!” I shot back. A flicker of fear crossed Chris’s eyes, but he stubbornly insisted: “Stop spouting nonsense! Marta lost her health and her money putting you through college. Now she’s just seeking justice for herself!” I laughed coldly: “Fine. Since you also believe I went to college, please tell everyone—which college did I attend? What was my major?” Chris hadn’t expected me to suddenly ask this. After a moment’s hesitation, he just made something up: “You resent Ruth for favoring me, so we’re not close. How would I know which college you attended?” “All I know is that without impressive credentials, that multinational corporation you work for would never have hired you, let alone given you an important position!” Before he’d finished, Ruth quickly added: “Chris is the youngest, so it’s normal for me to look after him a bit more. You’re just too jealous and petty—you can’t stand him at all. That’s why I asked Marta to take care of you more.” “As for the college name? I know that. It was A University, majoring in New Media.” I snorted coldly. They’d really done their homework. The chairman of the company I work for graduated from A University. To show his gratitude to his alma mater, he goes back every year to recruit on campus. Hearing her name the university, people began whispering among themselves, looking at me with undisguised contempt. I calmly pulled out my phone and logged into the 2018 New Media graduating class photo from A University: “Everyone, look—if I graduated from here, why am I not in the group photo?” Marta looked at Ruth in confusion. Ruth’s face showed a flash of panic, but she quickly steadied herself: “Who’s fault is that? Your own! You went out drinking with people to celebrate graduation, drank until you had a bleeding ulcer, and were hospitalized for five days.” To add credibility, she threw out a hospital admission certificate, her tone full of disappointment: “I told you to appreciate Marta and not waste her money, but you just wouldn’t listen. That one night, you spent ten thousand dollars on alcohol alone.” Everyone gasped: “Ten thousand! Marta worked herself to death for her, and she’s shameless enough to do this.” “That’s more than many people make in a month, and she blew it all in one night. Outrageous.” “What?!” Marta’s eyes went wide with fury. “You asked me for so much money—I would have accepted it if you’d spent it on something proper. I never imagined you’d use it for partying and drinking!” “Did you think my money fell from the sky? What did I do in my past life to deserve a sister like you?!” Marta was so angry her chest heaved up and down. Her face turned iron-gray as she glared at me, looking ready to tear me apart: “Alice, I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want $300,000. I want you to return every cent I sent you over the years!” “Plus damages for emotional distress—$600,000 total. Not a penny less!”

Seeing Marta increase the compensation demand, Chris gloated: “That’s right! This kind of ungrateful wolf deserves a good lesson. Can’t let her off too easy!” Ruth also nodded solemnly: “Marta, you’re doing the right thing. Otherwise, who knows what worse things she’ll do in the future.” Marta looked heartbroken and extremely agitated: “Alice, you squandered my hard-earned money like this—you might as well have taken a knife and stabbed me. You always complained about wanting to cut ties with this family, right? Fine, I’m cutting ties with you!” No matter how I explained, she wouldn’t believe me. I felt helpless: “I’ll say it one more time—I really never went to college, and I never said I wanted to cut ties with you.” Chris looked at me with utter disdain and mocked: “Of course not! Marta’s like a human ATM—how could you bear to cut ties with her?” Ruth saw me still denying that I’d gone to college and angrily rebuked: “Debts must be repaid—it’s only right. Alice, have some conscience! Stop provoking Marta. She’s sacrificed so much for you in this lifetime.” Looking at Ruth’s hypocritical face, I didn’t want to waste any more time. I took out my ID and handed it to the judge: “Please log into the student records system and check. I believe everything will become clear.” “No!” Ruth suddenly shouted to stop him. “Judge, who doesn’t make mistakes when they’re young? As her mother, I’ve also failed in my duties. As long as she’s willing to admit she lied, I can mediate between the sisters.” “But once you check and prove she’s lying, she’ll be branded a liar for life. Not only will she lose her job, but her reputation will be ruined forever.” Marta seemed shocked: “You really want to do this?” “Yes. I love both my children equally. I don’t want to see you in court against each other, and I don’t want to see Alice being selfish and going down the wrong path.” Her words immediately resonated with many people present, who sighed sympathetically: “Sigh, the old lady’s heart is still soft at the critical moment. A mother’s love is truly boundless.” “Exactly. And Alice keeps saying her mother plays favorites. I think she’s the selfish one.” The judge also empathized and gently advised me: “Alice, don’t let down your mother’s good intentions. Hurry up and apologize to Marta. You’re still young with a bright future ahead. Don’t ruin yourself over one moment of foolishness.” “No,” I answered decisively. “Check. You must check!” My words caused an uproar: “I’ve never seen someone so ungrateful and unknowing of kindness.” “Where does she get the nerve? Hmph, then let her get what she’s asking for!” At this point, a staff member had already logged into the student records system. However, when she saw what came up, her brow furrowed tightly. Her eyes unconsciously drew closer to the screen to confirm again. A few seconds later, her voice wasn’t loud but rang clearly through the courtroom: “Judge, there’s no information about Alice in the university records—no major, degree, student status, thesis, nothing.” “Moreover, I also discovered she never even took the SAT exam.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “360340”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #魔幻Magic #惊悚Thriller #浪漫Romance

Two passengers were having sex in the airplane bathroom during turbulence. One of them passed out mid-act. As the aviation security officer on duty, I had no choice but to force the door open. In the cramped space, the two of them were stuck together like conjoined twins. The woman actually had the nerve to blame us: “You kept banging on the door! He got too nervous and passed out. I’m filing a complaint against you!” I froze in place. The woman in front of me was my wife, Mira. My wife, who said she had a business trip on our anniversary, was doing this with another man in an airplane bathroom! Looking at the disgusting scene before me, my throat felt like it had a fly stuck in it. Because I was wearing a mask, Mira didn’t recognize me. She kept cursing and hurrying us. I swallowed my disgust and said to a nearby flight attendant: “Use some lubricant to separate them first.” My colleague and I worked together to move them out. After all that struggling, both of them were drenched in cold sweat, their hair disheveled. When I got a clear look at the man’s face, my heart jolted. It was my buddy Tom. I never imagined there’d be any connection between them. After all, every time they met, Tom was pretty cold toward Mira. There was no time to dwell on it now. The area where they were connected had turned purple-black, indicating blocked blood circulation. Tom’s face was deathly pale, his breathing unstable. We had to act fast. Looking at the absurd scene before me, I couldn’t help but find it laughable. I took the lubricant my colleague had fetched, poured a generous amount on my hands, and was about to apply it to where they were stuck together. Perhaps breathing in the fresh air revived him—Tom opened his eyes at that moment. Seeing what I was about to do, he immediately shouted to stop me: “What the hell are you putting on us? Mira has delicate skin. What if she has an allergic reaction?” I explained patiently, “This is lubricant. There are no harmful ingredients. The priority right now is to separate you two.” Tom scoffed. “You say it’s harmless, so it’s harmless? Let me tell you, Mira can only use a special rose essential oil.” I didn’t respond. At a critical moment like this, he was being picky about lubricant. I kept a straight face and held down his squirming body, preparing to continue. But he raised his hand and slapped me across the face. “Are you deaf? Without the oil I want, don’t you dare touch us!” My colleagues were all stunned, looking at each other. These two had been eye-opening from start to finish. The captain, worried that further delay would cause problems, gritted his teeth and made the call: “Someone go buy a bottle. Hurry there and back.” Only then did Tom nod with satisfaction. He grasped Mira’s hand and said tenderly: “Mira, this is my fault. I was too rough.” Mira had long been moved to a complete mess by him, shaking her head excitedly. “How could this be your fault? I should thank you for giving me such a different experience.” “From now on, you need to spend more time with me, experiencing this cloud nine happiness.” Listening to their nauseating sweet talk, I took a deep breath but choked on it, coughing violently. Mira frowned at me, opening her mouth impatiently: “Why aren’t they back yet? Do you all enjoy standing here watching us?” “Look at you people acting like you’ve never seen anything. What’s wrong with my husband and me having a little romantic fun?” “When you do separate us, you’d better be gentle. If anything happens to us, I’ll sue your airline in court!” Seeing her arrogant attitude, I couldn’t help but ask: “Then how about we just call an ambulance to take you both to the hospital right now?” Mira rolled her eyes at me. “How clever! You want us to make the front page of the news, is that it?” I sneered inwardly. Mira was quite calculating. She deliberately chose the dates when I had time off to fly with her lover. She didn’t expect that I’d cover for a colleague at the last minute. And normally, Mira always used being busy as an excuse, never accompanying me to any airline events. So no one at the airline knew she was my wife. From how naturally they called each other husband and wife, their relationship had clearly been going on for quite some time. I was a bit curious—if she knew I was standing right in front of her, what would her reaction be?

After the essential oil they requested was bought back, I poured the entire bottle on them, spread it evenly, and worked with my colleague to pull them apart. The process went relatively smoothly. Both were sent to get dressed separately. I stood there, my emotions inevitably complicated. Just then, my phone buzzed. It was Mira’s reply to the scheduled message I’d sent her. “Honey, I’m so sorry I can’t spend our anniversary with you again. This work trip is really important. I have to stay there for a week.” “Don’t worry, I’ll definitely bring you back a gift. Love you.” I’d just turned around when I heard Mira come out after changing, walking and complaining as she went. “It’s just an anniversary. What’s the big deal whether we celebrate it or not? Still sending those mushy messages—even high schoolers don’t do that anymore.” “But if I don’t reply, that won’t work either. So annoying!” I stared at her fake words, smiled bitterly, and replied briefly: “Okay, got it.” I hid in a corner and watched Mira stop, staring at her phone screen thoughtfully. I figured she was surprised that my reply was unusually bland. I’d started planning activities for our anniversary a long time ago. She knew how much I was looking forward to it, yet she still deceived me for Tom. I sighed and started walking out when I ran into a flight attendant from the earlier flight. “This is bad, Carter! That guy passed out again!” She continued breathlessly: “He came out after getting dressed, took just two steps, then suddenly clutched his neck like someone was choking him. His face turned purple, and then he collapsed.” I’d learned some first aid, so I immediately followed her over. During the examination, I found that Tom’s throat seemed swollen. His neck looked thick, and his limbs showed varying degrees of swelling. There were also some red rashes on his neck. A possibility suddenly flashed through my mind. Allergic reaction! The likely allergen was that bottle of essential oil from earlier. I quickly found the allergy medication I always carried in my pocket and fed it to Tom. Then I knelt beside him, performing CPR, while calling out to my colleague. “Call an ambulance quick! He’s about to suffocate!” Just then, a shrill female voice rang out. “No one is allowed to call an ambulance!” Mira stormed over aggressively and slapped me across the face. “This is all your fault for dragging things out too long earlier! Your attitude was terrible too. That’s what got him into this state!” Her expression was vicious, her eyes reddening with rage. My colleague, afraid she’d attack me again, quickly pulled me away. But Mira remained hysterical, pointing at the surrounding staff and cursing: “You still want to send him to a hospital? We’re prominent people in the business world, not nobodies like you! If word of this gets out, I absolutely won’t let any of you off!” All my colleagues’ faces turned iron-blue. Running into this lunatic during work hours—everyone couldn’t help but sigh silently. I quietly watched her lose it. Only now did I understand that all her gentleness and consideration toward me before had been an act. This was the real her—volatile and arrogant. One colleague couldn’t take it anymore: “Ma’am, he’s in this condition and you still won’t let us send him to a hospital. What’s more important—his life or your reputation?” “Why don’t you just have your family doctor come over? That way if something goes wrong, you won’t blame us.” Everyone chimed in agreement. Mira’s face turned white. She didn’t have any family doctor. She didn’t want to go to the hospital simply because she didn’t want more people to know. But she still replied defiantly: “There are more of you. I can’t argue with you all. I’m pregnant! You’re all bullying a pregnant woman. Your airline will go bankrupt sooner or later!”

I was completely stunned in place. For nearly a year, Mira and I hadn’t been intimate. She said she was frigid in that regard. This child couldn’t possibly be mine. A surge of frustration rose in my chest. I said to Mira unkindly: “You’re pregnant and still doing such intense activities? Did you two even think about the child?” “You’re completely unfit to be parents!” Mira, having her sore spot exposed, couldn’t help but clutch her stomach, lowering her eyes and stammering: “We were just seeking thrills. We couldn’t hold back.” The allergy medication was working. Tom half-opened his eyes at that moment, having heard those last few sentences. He lay there, his tone still caustic: “We do what we want. What are you? Mind your own business!” “I’m your gold card customer. I can do whatever I want on the plane. You working stiffs will never experience the kind of fun we have in your entire lives. If anyone dares to say another word, I’ll file a serious complaint against you!” Perhaps it was his blood pressure spiking, or perhaps the allergy medication’s effect was limited. He rolled his eyes back and passed out again. At an impasse, we had no choice but to find the airport’s on-call doctor to come over and put him on an IV. To prevent the two of them from going crazy again, I stood guard at the hospital room door. Just as the on-call doctor was examining Tom, Mira pulled me aside. She handed me an agreement and a bank card. “You’re their supervisor, right? I need all the staff who were present today to sign a confidentiality agreement. Anyone who signs gets ten thousand dollars. Go notify everyone and make it happen.” Hearing her imperious tone, I almost laughed out loud. “Not signing. Don’t want it.” I shook her off and walked away without looking back. Naturally, I didn’t see her resentful expression. I walked to the hospital room entrance. The on-call doctor told me Tom’s condition had stabilized. “The allergic reaction has been stopped. The allergen was a special ingredient in that rose essential oil.” “There’s a more serious problem. His reproductive area was overstimulated for too long and has currently lost function. He may lose that ability permanently.” The doctor said there was nothing he could do. It all depended on Tom’s own luck now. I nodded. The equipment in the room suddenly beeped. The doctor glanced at it, his tone grave: “He’s showing signs of oxygen deprivation. He needs a blood transfusion.” Finding someone on short notice wasn’t realistic. If something happened to Tom, Mira would go crazy and drag more colleagues into it. Thinking of this, I volunteered: “Take mine. I’m type O.” “Go tell his family first. If she gives you trouble, tell her she can come find me.” During the blood draw, my head suddenly felt dizzy, my temples throbbing. I nearly cried out. I sucked in a cold breath, endured it, and closed my eyes, not wanting to cause more trouble. The headache still didn’t ease. Cold sweat beaded on my forehead. I clenched my fists, veins bulging on the backs of my hands. Like this, I held on until the blood draw was complete. After confirming Tom’s condition was stable, I finally breathed a long sigh of relief. Just as I was about to head back, my feet felt unsteady and I nearly fell. The on-call doctor quickly caught me. “Why are you so hot? Carter, do you have a fever?” I nodded. I’d felt feverish since last night. The doctor urged me: “Go back and rest right away. After switching shifts, you’ve worked two overnight shifts in a row. Work is important, but your health is more important.” I smiled. “It’s not quitting time yet. That woman is too difficult. You won’t be able to handle her.” The doctor sighed: “You’re too conscientious and responsible. You always take everything on yourself.” “Those arrogant people don’t even think about it—without millions of people like you, how could they have pleasant journeys?” I smiled bitterly but couldn’t bring myself to defend Mira. My true identity was actually the only grandson of the Carter family, the future heir to the family fortune.

This airport was actually my newly acquired property. I wanted to start from the ground level to understand employees’ concerns, so I concealed my identity publicly. Mira’s family was also in business, but nowhere near my family’s level. Her company only developed to its current state because of investment from the Carter family. Usually she was considerate and attentive toward me, fooling my entire family. Not far away, Mira approached with five bodyguards in black, staring hard at me, coming on strong. The five bodyguards instantly pulled the doctor away and surrounded me. Before I could react, their fists and feet all came at me. Mira’s eyes were vicious, her teeth clenched: “Beat him hard! It’s all his fault that Tom became like this!” “He even dared talk back to me earlier. Does he really think I can’t deal with him?” Such a big commotion attracted the attention of many passersby. The sight of me bloody and battered was too shocking. For a moment, no one dared step forward to stop it. Mira pointed at me and continued cursing. “Because they delayed treatment, my husband lost his reproductive ability.” “This person even refused to keep our secret. I discovered he took private photos of us to make money. I offered him money and he wouldn’t sell them to me!” “How can this kind of scum still work here? Can passengers feel safe?” Hearing her twist the truth, I wanted to refute her, but was kicked in the ribs, which broke. I clutched my abdomen and coughed up blood. The doctor snapped out of it and desperately tried to push through, but was blocked by the bodyguards. Mira had the bodyguards stop, approached from above, and her high heel viciously kicked my chin. I was kicked down flat on the ground, my jaw unable to close—it must have been dislocated. Not satisfied, she used the sharp tip of her shoe to step on my face, grinding continuously. “Tom was fine just now. Did you hold a grudge and deliberately sabotage things to harm my husband? You’ve ruined my happiness for the rest of my life!” “If he doesn’t get better, don’t think you can escape either. I’ll make you suffer the same pain!” She vented almost maniacally. I was submerged in blood all over my face. I felt my eyelids getting heavier and heavier. Yet she still hadn’t stopped this brutality. She took out her phone, bent down, and prepared to pull off the mask on my face. “You wanted to sell my photos, didn’t you? I’ll expose you first!” The mask slipped from my face. Looking at my blood-covered face, Mira disgustedly wiped it. “I want to see what you look like!” She grabbed my hair, the phone camera right up close. However, when she got a clear look at my face, she froze completely. She let go as if electrocuted, asking in disbelief: “Carter, how… how could it be you?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “360339”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #魔幻Magic #惊悚Thriller #浪漫Romance

At noon, I opened my lunch box in the office and found something shocking inside the container my wife, Emma, had packed for me—a pack of cigarettes and a condom. She’d also added cilantro to the salad. The moment I saw everything, a chill ran down my spine. First of all, I don’t smoke. Second, we always kept condoms in the nightstand drawer, so there was no reason to put one in my lunch box. Third, she knew I was allergic to cilantro. Why would she deliberately add it to my food? I thought about it for a moment, then picked up my phone and called my lawyer. “I need you to draw up divorce papers.” My lawyer happened to be my sister. When she heard I wanted a divorce, she screamed. “Are you out of your mind? Emma treats you so well! Just because she put cilantro in your food, you want a divorce? Don’t you think that’s a bit of an overreaction?” “Ryan, you’re being completely unreasonable. I’m not helping you with this divorce.” Before I could even respond, my sister had already made her stance clear. “Emma is amazing. Don’t be so petty over something small. Her cooking is delicious.” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at my sister’s words. “You’re my lawyer. Can you at least try to be professional?” “I don’t care. You hired me as your lawyer, but I’m also Emma’s biggest supporter. If you want to divorce her, I’ll be the first to object.” My sister’s voice dripped with anger. “And if you think I’m going to draft divorce papers for you, forget it.” She hung up with a loud click. My sister had only graduated two years ago, and I’d gotten her a job at my company. Still too young. Too emotional. I didn’t bother arguing with her. Instead, I quickly reached out to a more professional legal team. Once I’d discussed everything with them, I had to admit—their efficiency was impressive. By the time I was about to leave work, the divorce agreement had already been drafted. Regarding the division of assets, the lawyers also offered some professional advice. They suggested I find the person who “ate the cilantro.” I understood what they meant. “Can I authorize you to handle this entirely? Money isn’t an issue.” “Mr. Carter, thank you for your trust. We won’t let you down.” The moment I hung up, my phone rang again. I glanced at the caller ID. It was my dad. He didn’t waste any time. His voice was harsh. “Get home within an hour, or I’m disowning you.” The line went dead. I stood there, speechless. I really hadn’t expected my sister, a lawyer, to have zero professional integrity. In the blink of an eye, her mouth had turned into a megaphone, spreading the news everywhere. I had no choice. I quickly gathered my things and drove to my parents’ house. The moment I stepped inside, I could feel something was off. Several figures sat in the living room. Every face was tight with tension, clearly serious. “Ryan, you’re back.” My sister spoke first. I shot her a look. She immediately fired back, undeterred. “What? I don’t agree with you divorcing Emma. And it’s not just me—Mom and Dad don’t agree either.” Her words drew everyone’s attention to me. My wife Emma was there too. She was sobbing, tears streaming down her face like rain on delicate petals. My parents were doing their best to comfort her. “You ungrateful bastard, you finally decided to show up.” My dad glared at me. “What are you standing there for? Get over here and apologize to Emma!” “Who gave you the nerve to divorce her?” My mom was equally furious. “I’m warning you—if you dare divorce Emma, I’ll cut ties with you as my son.” My sister crossed her arms and stood beside my parents, making her position crystal clear. In their eyes, Emma was a gentle, kind, and devoted wife. In the seven years we’d been married, she’d kept our home running smoothly. She’d treated my parents and my sister well enough. But even so, I wasn’t going to back down. This divorce was happening.

“Please don’t be angry with him. This isn’t Ryan’s fault. I must have done something wrong to upset him.” Emma started blaming herself. Her words only made my parents angrier. Suddenly, my dad rushed forward and slapped me across the face. “Emma married you. All these years, she’s given you children, taken care of me and your mother. She’s been nothing but dedicated. With a wife like her, what more could you possibly want?” “She gave you a child! How can you be so clueless?” “Get on your knees right now and apologize to her. Beg her to forgive you.” My dad’s voice was a command. “Mom, Dad—it’s my fault. I forgot Ryan is allergic to cilantro. If he eats it, his skin breaks out in a rash.” “I was up late last night helping our son with his homework, so I made a mistake when I prepared lunch this morning.” Emma walked up to me. “Ryan, I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad at me. I’ll be more careful from now on.” My sister stood across from me, teeth clenched and eyes blazing. She was naturally blunt, and fresh out of law school, still full of righteous indignation. Watching Emma apologize to me was too much for her. “Ryan, you’re such a bully! I can’t stand this. Emma is so wonderful, and look how you’ve treated her!” “Emma, come here. I’ll protect you.” My sister pulled Emma to her side. My mom joined in. “Why are you just standing there? Apologize to Emma! Tell her you won’t go through with the divorce. Ask for her forgiveness.” “Mom, Dad—what happens between me and Emma is none of your concern. This divorce is happening.” I knew that no matter what I said, it wouldn’t make a difference. So I turned and walked out. Once outside, I texted the legal team, asking when they’d have the evidence ready. Their reply came quickly. “Mr. Carter, we need some time. Please be patient.” I understood. Some things couldn’t be rushed. That night, I went home. Before long, Emma returned with our five-year-old son. The boy looked at me with something like fear in his eyes. When I glanced his way, he hid behind Emma. “Lucas, go to your room and rest. Mommy will come tell you a story later.” Lucas nodded obediently and ran off to his room. Emma sat down across from me. I pulled out the divorce papers and tossed them in front of her. “Look these over. If everything’s in order, sign them.” Emma glanced at the papers, then threw them back on the table. “Ryan, our son is still young. Are you really this heartless?” She was putting on another performance. “Let’s cut the act. I don’t want to play games with you. If you don’t sign, we’ll see each other in court.” My voice was cold. The pitiful expression on Emma’s face flickered and vanished. A cold smirk curled at the corner of her lips. “I’m not signing this. If you really want a divorce, the child stays with me, and you give me ten million dollars as compensation. Otherwise, there’s nothing to discuss.” “And whether you agree or not doesn’t matter. If you don’t cooperate, I’ll show you what I’m capable of.” “You know your parents and your sister are on my side. If you divorce me, you’ll be branded as an ungrateful, disloyal son. That kind of reputation can destroy you.” Emma’s entire demeanor had shifted. The woman standing before me now felt like a stranger. I steadied myself. “I’d love to see what you’re capable of.” I gathered the divorce papers and said nothing more.

The next morning, the news exploded. “CEO Demands Divorce Because Wife Put Cilantro in His Food!” The story shot straight to the top of the trending topics. My secretary told me about it while I was in my office. I clicked on the headline. According to the article, someone had anonymously leaked information—including a recording from inside my house the night before. Anonymous? Please. It was a pathetic attempt at misdirection. Thinking back to what Emma had said about showing me her “capabilities,” there was no doubt she was behind this. The story blew up online. Soon, videos surfaced of my parents and sister being interviewed. In the footage, they righteously condemned me. No question—Emma had orchestrated the whole thing. “If he dares divorce Emma, our whole family will disown him. But if he comes to his senses, I might give him one more chance.” In the video, Emma still played the victim perfectly. The comments were brutal. “What kind of man is this? Even his own parents have turned against him! He must be absolute garbage!” “When his parents and sister side with the daughter-in-law, that says everything about his character.” “He’s definitely got someone on the side. He’s tired of his wife and wants to dump her for a younger model! I’ve seen his type a thousand times!” “Boycott his company! Don’t buy any of his products!” The outrage spread like wildfire. By the end of the workday, Emma called me. “Ryan, have you seen what I can do now? Ready to agree to my terms?” “Don’t bother trying to record this. I’m not falling for that. I sent you an address—let’s meet in person.” “No need to meet. And I wasn’t planning to record anything. I’m not agreeing to any of your conditions. In fact, I’m going to make sure you leave this marriage with nothing.” Emma laughed coldly. “If you won’t cooperate, don’t blame me for destroying you.” “If you think you can, go ahead and try.” I hung up. After taking a deep breath, I mailed out the hair samples I’d collected—mine and the child’s. Over the next two weeks, I faced attacks from every direction. My company ground to a halt. My own employees turned against me. Many resigned. Some even demanded that I apologize to Emma and admit I was wrong. My family publicly announced they were cutting ties with me. Overnight, I became a pariah—a man everyone wanted to see destroyed. Then Emma called again. “Ryan, are you ready to get on your knees and beg? Maybe if I’m feeling generous, I’ll let you off easy.” I said nothing and hung up. Finally, the legal team called. “Mr. Carter, we’re sorry for what you’ve been through. We’ve gathered all the evidence. We’re ready to go to court.” At the same time, I received the paternity test results. The child was not mine. “Mr. Carter? Are you there?” I took a deep breath. “Yes. File for a hearing tomorrow.” Emma, the truth will come out tomorrow. And when it does, you’ll pay for everything. Every last bit of it. I was going to show her what “revenge” really felt like.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “360338”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #魔幻Magic #惊悚Thriller #浪漫Romance

My wife and I are both liars. She lied to me ninety-nine times, saying she’d forget her first love, but she never did. And I only lied to her once—tricking her into signing the divorce papers. Today is the last day of our divorce waiting period. Three hours left on the countdown, I packed all my belongings and bought a plane ticket out of the country. Two hours left, I cut up all our photos together, leaving only myself in the albums. One hour remaining, I recorded one final video for her. “Clara, this is my tenth year loving you, and my first day leaving you.” Later, when she saw the recording, she lost her mind. “Why is the wedding contract so thick?” Clara frowned, flipping through page after page, yet never putting pen to paper. After all, she was a renowned CEO in this city—not someone easily deceived. And on the second-to-last page was the divorce agreement I’d secretly inserted. I kept my head down, feeling surprisingly calm. “There are a bunch of liability clauses. If you have time, take your time reading through it.” She wouldn’t have time. Today was the day her first love, Adrian Cross, returned to the country. Years ago, when Adrian got engaged, she married me in a fit of spite. Now that Adrian was divorced, she got drunk and, after sobering up, asked me to hold a proper wedding ceremony. It was all just to provoke Adrian into coming back. My marriage was nothing more than a game piece in their emotional chess match. Sure enough. The impatience on Clara’s face was visible to the naked eye. “I need to leave now to pick someone up. I don’t have time for all this.” A flicker of joy crossed her eyes. The impatience was for me. That flash of joy was reserved only for Adrian Cross. After hastily signing, Clara left me nothing but her retreating back. Three days ago, Clara suddenly brought up holding a proper wedding. We’d been married five years without a grand ceremony or any public announcement. Apart from both sets of parents and our closest friends, no one knew. Even in news coverage about her, she was always listed as “unmarried.” The occasional tabloid stories were all about her tragic romance with Adrian Cross. As for me, her actual secret husband, I had no right to have my name mentioned. Truth is, I’ve known all along. Clara had a first love, a man she loved desperately. Five years of marriage, and the woman showed me some tenderness, just not much. I tried to use love to make her get used to having me around. But in our home, Clara’s face never showed a single smile. Until that day when Clara—who never touched alcohol—got completely wasted, her face covered in nothing but smiles. I quietly asked around and, sure enough, Adrian Cross had gotten divorced. I took care of her until midnight, then unlocked her phone using Adrian’s birthday. Opening her photo album, the pictures nearly filled her storage. Nothing but Adrian. Not a single photo of me. The cover of her digital album was our wedding photo. Except she’d photoshopped my face out and replaced it with Adrian’s. I still remember how, on the day we registered our marriage, Clara refused to hold a wedding but insisted on taking wedding photos. Now I understood why. It was at that moment I knew. This five-year marriage was coming to an end. All that remained was the divorce cooling-off period. Countdown. One month. Coincidentally, the wedding Clara promised to hold with me also had one month left.

Countdown: 20 days. Clara came and went even more frequently than before. The wedding she’d promised seemed to have never existed. Occasionally I’d see her best friend’s social media posts, and in the corners of photos, there’d always be her walking arm-in-arm with a man. That face—I’d seen it in her phone’s photo album. This day, my business partner stopped me. “Bring the design drafts later. We’re going to sign a contract with the client.” “I heard this client is none other than CEO Clara’s rumored lover.” I nodded, a bit distracted. Though he was my partner, he didn’t know I knew Clara. Much less that Clara and I were secretly married. The client’s office was located in the building right below Clara’s company. I knew this was the new company Adrian had established after returning to the country, funded by investments from Clara’s corporation. Recently, financial news had been buzzing with speculation about their past romance. Entering the CEO’s office, unsurprisingly, I saw Clara. She was holding an elegantly wrapped box, handing it to the man in the executive chair. Adrian Cross. Clara’s expression froze the instant she saw me. Everyone present sensed something was off. Adrian looked at me with a hint of amusement. “And you are?” Clara fell silent, seemingly weighing how to explain. I smiled and introduced myself to everyone. “My name is Mason Young, the designer for this project. Ms. Parker and I are…” Clara and I spoke in unison: “College classmates.” As soon as the words left our mouths, my hand gripping the design drafts turned white. My fingertips left creases in the paper. This wasn’t the first time I’d covered for Clara, nor was it the first time Clara didn’t want to reveal my identity. This so-called secret marriage hid our relationship. But it made crystal clear the ending we were always destined for. The business discussion that followed was unpleasant. Clara resumed her role as a business elite, representing Adrian and being aggressive during negotiations. “Drop the price another ten percent.” Clara pushed our profit margin and bottom line to the absolute limit. My partner hesitated for a moment, then agreed through gritted teeth. “Fine. Ms. Parker, your reputation precedes you—you’ve guessed our bottom line perfectly.” Clara turned her head, too guilty to look at me. This woman was indeed as ruthless as the legends said. Only now, she was using it against me, her legitimate husband. Adrian hadn’t said a word the whole time, just looked at me with slight provocation. Then he reached out to unwrap the box on the table. “Everyone, have some cake.” Unexpectedly, Clara, who’d remained calm throughout the negotiation, anxiously grabbed it away. “Adrian, don’t touch it—you’re allergic to peanut butter. Let me check first.” The scene before me transformed into sharp blades in that moment. Cutting me to bloody pieces. Five years of marriage, and this woman had forgotten our anniversary, gotten my birthday wrong. Even every single thing I’d reminded her about, she’d carelessly tossed aside. But she always remembered that I was allergic to peanut butter. I’d secretly felt pleased—maybe all the other details revealed the truth that she didn’t love me. But this one detail showed she cared about me, even if just a little. Turns out… Even that tiny bit of care was fake.

The project progressed quickly. But Clara thought it was too slow. More than once, this woman emphasized to my partner: “This is Adrian’s first project since returning to the country. I don’t want it to fail.” I watched this performance with cold detachment. That day after the negotiation ended, back home, Clara hesitated on the sofa for a long time. Finally, she explained to me: “We’re still secretly married after all. We haven’t found the right time to explain.” “Later, we’ll go public.” “Right now, our priority should be handling this project well.” I nodded noncommittally. I didn’t bother reminding her that the priority should probably be our upcoming wedding. Even less would I remind her that when that day came, the divorce cooling-off period would be over. After all, in her eyes, Adrian was still the most important. During the project, Clara’s deliberate efforts to avoid having Adrian and me meet still caught my partner’s attention. He asked me somewhat nosily: “Did you and Ms. Parker used to have a thing?” I smiled. “How could that be possible?” My partner pursed his lips. “She’s looked at you with this incredibly guilty expression several times.” “Clearly the way a woman harboring guilt looks at her ex-boyfriend.” I paused, trying to recall carefully. It wasn’t that I hadn’t noticed—it’s just that everything from the past made it impossible for me to be sure about her expression. Countdown: 10 days. This day was supposed to be a regular project meeting. Adrian intentionally or unintentionally chatted with me for quite a while. I knew he’d probably guessed my relationship with Clara. But I still replied to him politely. After the meeting ended, Clara actually offered to drive me home. This was a first. “Your work capabilities really exceed my expectations.” Five years of marriage, and this was the first time this woman praised me. My hand paused while organizing documents, looking at her with some confusion. Clara hesitated for a long time before finally speaking: “Is it too late for the wedding ceremony?” I lowered my head, knowing she probably wanted to cancel the wedding. Most likely because of Adrian. “Then let’s just cancel it. There aren’t many days left anyway.” I looked up at her, not calling her out, not wanting to make things awkward for both of us. Clara looked stunned, as if she’d received an answer she couldn’t believe. She suddenly asked: “You don’t care?” Right—in the past, I probably would’ve lost control on the spot, demanding an answer. How many times had awkwardness occurred in our marriage because of my loss of control? Though all those losses of control stemmed from her. I shook my head. “What’s there to care about? It’s just a ceremony.” After a long silence, Clara spoke up again: “How about in a few days, I’ll go with you to relax at the old town nearby?” I looked down at the countdown on my phone—only ten days left in the divorce cooling-off period—and declined. The woman’s hands on the steering wheel stiffened, nearly running a red light. “How about the beach? Or that restaurant you’ve always wanted to try?” Clara suggested several more ways to relax, but I declined them one by one. By the time we got out of the car, the woman’s expression had changed from embarrassment and guilt to confusion and dissatisfaction. Seeing her expression, I took the initiative: “How about we go see the old house?” The old house was where Clara and I lived when we first got married. I really did miss it a bit. Clara froze for a long while, seemingly trying to figure out what I was thinking. Even after I got out of the car, she was still sitting there. Sitting in a daze for a long time.

Divorce cooling-off period countdown: 1 day. Perhaps we’d formed some kind of tacit understanding—Clara and I rarely appeared together at project meetings anymore. But sometimes, when Adrian wasn’t around, Clara would suddenly come downstairs. At project meetings, she wouldn’t speak, just occasionally glance at me. I didn’t really understand what this woman was thinking lately, and I didn’t want to. I started moving things out bit by bit, trying not to let her notice. But she still found out. This day, after a meeting, Clara proactively invited me to sit in her office for a while. As soon as I sat down, she asked: “You’ve been moving a lot of stuff out lately? And I haven’t seen you come home either.” I nodded, using an excuse I’d prepared long ago. “Yeah, going to stay at the old house for a while.” Clara’s expression showed hesitation: “About the wedding, I’ve thought about it for a long time, and we can still hold it…” I interrupted her: “There’s hardly any time left. No need.” Her expression showed surprise: “What do you mean, ‘hardly any time left’?” I hesitated, wondering whether to show her the divorce agreement we’d already signed. Adrian’s phone call came at just the right time, helping me out. I looked at the name on her phone and smiled: “You go ahead and take care of business. We’re not in a rush to talk.” Clara turned the door handle, and to express her apology, turned back to reaffirm a promise: “I’ll definitely come find you at the old house tomorrow.” The next day, she broke her promise again. I sat on the sofa in the old house, looking down at my phone. Countdown: 12 hours. A local news notification popped up on my news app. Adrian was making an appearance at a new project, with Clara standing behind him. Recalling the promise the woman made yesterday, I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. If she knew these were the last twelve hours with me, would she still break her promise? Maybe not. Maybe she still would. But the answer no longer mattered. I spent several hours tidying up the house. In the empty old house, there really wasn’t much that belonged to me. It’s just that we got married here, and I was still nostalgic. I called my partner. Since I’d already told him beforehand, I still said goodbye to him. Then I dialed the lawyer: “The divorce agreement was notarized a month ago. I don’t need to go through additional procedures now, right?” The lawyer’s answer was concise: “No need.” After a pause, his congratulations came through: “Congratulations, Mr. Young.” I smiled and hung up. I just quietly waited until evening. Three hours on the countdown, I packed all my belongings and bought a ticket for the next day. Two hours left, I cut up all our photos together, leaving only myself in the albums. One hour remaining, I arranged the divorce agreement neatly and placed it on the table. I originally wanted to leave some words, but decided against it. I could only say silently in my heart: “This is the last time I’ll call you that.” “I loved you for ten years. Loving someone for ten years is very difficult, but I’ve finally chosen to give up.” “Congratulations to you, and congratulations to me.” Carrying my luggage, the instant the countdown ended, I placed my hand on the door handle. It was over. My marriage. Unexpectedly, the door opened from outside. Clara had sweat on her forehead, clearly having just exercised. She was panting, the smile on her face tinged with guilt: “I’m sorry, Mason. I just finished seeing someone off…” Her tone faltered, her gaze landing on my luggage and the plane ticket in my hand. “Where are you going?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “360337”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #魔幻Magic #惊悚Thriller #浪漫Romance

On the day of my fourth anniversary with Ethan Rivers, I stumbled upon a post online. “My girlfriend’s family went bankrupt. I want to break up. Does that make me a scumbag?” The comments section was a mixed bag: “Bankrupt? You better run with a rocket strapped to your back!!” “Her bankruptcy isn’t your fault, but being stubborn about it would be.” “There are plenty of fish in the sea.” The original poster asked again: “How can I get her to break up with me first? I don’t want to be the bad guy. We’ve been together for four years after all.” More people chimed in with suggestions. “That’s easy. Whatever she cares about most, just show you don’t care about it at all.” “If she wants your company, work overtime. If she wants thoughtfulness, be careless. If she gets upset, call her dramatic.” Someone else added: “Just swap out that million-dollar gift for a fake. When she finds out, she’ll definitely confront you. Then you can use that as an excuse to break up.” “Sounds good.” …

I was still in a daze when voices outside the door pulled me back to reality. “Ethan really treats his girlfriend well. Buying a gift worth over a million without batting an eye.” “Of course. When Ethan was starting from scratch, Claire was the one supporting him from behind. Otherwise, how could he have become so successful in just three years?” “I heard Ethan’s planning to use this gift to propose. He’s really putting his heart into this for Claire.” A female voice interrupted—it was Melissa White. “Hey, get your facts straight. Ethan got to where he is today through his own hard work. What does it have to do with Claire?” “She’s just someone who stays home researching recipes and scrolling through videos. Ethan should be grateful he doesn’t mind her.” “Plus, her family went bankrupt. Who knows, maybe her whole family will have to depend on Ethan from now on. Don’t you think Ethan’s carrying too much?” Ethan said, “Melissa really gets me.” Everyone fell silent. My name is Claire Montgomery. My father’s Montgomery Real Estate declared bankruptcy two days ago. I didn’t hide this from Ethan. I couldn’t have even if I wanted to. At the time, he comforted me, saying it would be okay—I still had him. But I didn’t tell him that aside from real estate, my family had other businesses. The door opened. Seeing me sitting quietly inside, they looked somewhat embarrassed. “Claire, when did you get here?” “Not long ago.” Ethan scratched his head. “What we were saying just now… did you hear it?” I pretended not to know. “What? I just came out of the restroom. I didn’t hear you talking.” Hearing this, Melissa came over and linked arms with me, acting as intimate as if she hadn’t just been talking behind my back. “We were just discussing how good Ethan is to you.” “Is that so?” I glanced at Ethan. Though his guilty expression flashed by quickly, after being with him for over three years, I knew him too well. That was definitely the look he wore when he felt awkward. Melissa changed the subject. “Claire, I’m so jealous of you. Having such a wonderful boyfriend like Ethan.” “Really?” I said with a smile. “If you’re jealous, want me to give him to you?” As soon as those words left my mouth, all conversation in the private room came to an abrupt halt. Everyone looked at us. Melissa’s face turned bright red as she looked at Ethan. The entire room fell deathly silent. After a long moment, Melissa finally reacted. “Claire, what are you saying?” She thought changing the subject would be enough. He thought I misspoke. They thought I couldn’t bear to let Ethan go. Little did they know, the moment I saw that post, I had already figured out who posted it.

Ethan’s friends were trying to smooth things over. “Ethan, didn’t you prepare a gift for Claire? Hurry up and show it to us.” “Yeah, yeah, let this poor soul see what luxury looks like.” With everyone egging him on, Ethan took out the gift. Supposedly, this was the “Heart of Eternity” he spent a million dollars on, something that could only be given to the one he loved most. But that post said this had been swapped for a fake. Melissa was very naive, thinking she’d come up with a clever plan when in reality she was digging her own grave. Ethan was equally “adorable,” believing whatever people told him. My family’s real estate went bankrupt, but the keen eye I’d developed since childhood certainly hadn’t. Over the years, I’d spent close to nine figures on jewelry and accessories. I could tell at a glance whether something was real or fake. These two people thought they were so smart, but in reality, they were too clever for their own good. Everyone looked at me, waiting for my reaction. But I remained calm. Melissa couldn’t stand it and urged me to respond. “Claire, why aren’t you moved?” “Ethan treats you so well. Shouldn’t you have some kind of reaction?” I laughed. “Reaction?” “What kind of reaction should I have?” “Should I be thrilled over a fake?” The room fell silent once again. Ethan nearly lost his grip, almost dropping the item. “…Claire, this thing is fake?” “Could you be mistaken?” “Ethan spent over a million on this.” I looked at Ethan and asked him, “Really?” He swallowed hard, stammering, “Y-yes.” Then he said more firmly, “I still have the receipt. How could it be fake? Could you… have made a mistake?” I feigned surprise. “You got scammed. This is definitely fake.” Melissa took a deep breath. “Claire, how can you tell it’s fake?” How could I tell? With my eyes, obviously. “If you don’t believe me, you can get it appraised. If I’m wrong, I’ll pay each of you a million dollars.” Ethan’s buddies went wild. “A million each?” “Ethan, what are we waiting for? Let’s go.” I looked at Melissa and Ethan challengingly. “Are you two coming?” They were clearly panicking. The whole real-for-fake swap was their scheme. They thought that with Montgomery Real Estate bankrupt, I’d lost my confidence, so they planned to deal me a blow with this gift. They hoped I’d make a scene, hoped I’d be unreasonable, so Ethan could naturally break up with me. But I was destined to disappoint them. I was going to expose their tactics right in front of everyone. Seeing my confidence, both Ethan and Melissa grew flustered. One said he’d find time to ask the store later, the other said our celebration was more important—in short, neither dared to go. Looking at the excited eyes of Ethan’s friends, I sneered. Melissa seemed to dislike my calm demeanor and mocked me. “Claire, we all know your family went bankrupt.” “So you don’t need to save face by saying things like that.” “In the past, you could pull out a few million in a heartbeat, but now… aren’t you talking big?” Melissa was laughing. She looked at me and laughed. A mocking laugh. She deliberately said these things, deliberately making me lose face in front of everyone. She wanted to see me in a sorry state. She’d been secretly competing with me for years, always trying to outdo me. The first time I met Melissa, she was handing out flyers on the street. I came out of a sales office and happened to run into her.

Melissa was holding a stack of flyers for Montgomery’s new development, persistently trying to sell me on it. “Miss, please take a look. Montgomery’s properties are really good.” “I see you just came out of that sales office across the street, so you must be looking to buy property, right? Why not consider ours?” “Miss, can you give me a chance to introduce it to you?” That last sentence made me stop. Seeing how hard she was trying, I gave her three minutes to pitch the development to me. Honestly, she worked very hard, put in a lot of effort. I saw myself from years ago in her. Even though she got some of the data wrong, I still gave her a chance. “What did you study in college?” “Design.” “Have you worked with interior design?” “Yes.” “Starting tomorrow, report to the design department. Interested?” I still remember the light in her eyes. “Yes.” She didn’t even ask who I was. She just bounced into the sales hall. At the time, I thought she was just fresh out of college and didn’t understand how the world worked, so I didn’t think much of it. But she truly didn’t disappoint me. In just over a year, she was standing before me. “Miss Montgomery, thank you for the recommendation.” I smiled. “It’s also the result of your own hard work.” She smiled brightly. “I’m going to be a career woman in the future, not some vase who relies on family connections to get ahead.” That comment made me uncomfortable. I felt like she was hinting at me. But I had no proof. And I wasn’t about to become paranoid over a young woman’s comment. I told her to work hard, that Montgomery Real Estate wouldn’t mistreat hardworking people. She said okay. But three months later, she jumped ship to Ethan’s company. Apparently Ethan had poached her. Since they were both family companies, I didn’t think much of it. If Ethan could recruit talent, it meant his company was growing. I was actually happy about it. That way, he’d have more confidence when he came to my family in the future. Later, Melissa started following Ethan everywhere. Construction sites, clients, sales offices—she was everywhere he was. Melissa always branded herself as a career woman who’d reach the top through her own efforts, so she looked down on me as someone who just relied on the Montgomery family and Ethan. She told Ethan more than once that I was backed by a big tree while she climbed up step by step through real effort. The implication was that I was inferior to her. So as time went on, she became more and more presumptuous around me. She’d prepare late-night snacks for Ethan, do his laundry, and keep him company when he worked overtime. All things a girlfriend would do. She wasn’t unaware of my relationship with Ethan. But she did it anyway. And Ethan allowed it. Anyone with eyes could see they had something going on. But they deceived themselves, claiming they simply appreciated each other’s talents. That’s why Melissa could say “Ethan achieved everything on his own.” I laughed. The kind of laugh that comes when you’re at a loss for words. Ethan always thought he got to where he is through his own efforts. In reality, every time he met with clients, I’d visit them again afterward, and those clients would agree to work with him out of respect for me. I never told him this. I was truly blinded by love during that period. But I did it to boost his confidence, to give him a sense of achievement. I even told those clients not to reveal the truth to him. Looking back now, how ridiculous. Of course, all that support was based on him being my future husband. Now that he’s changed his heart because Montgomery Real Estate went bankrupt, I have no reason to keep supporting him. I’ll let Ethan and Melissa know that my family has been in business for three generations. Why should we lose to someone who started from nothing?

Melissa was waiting for my response. Everyone else was waiting for me to speak too. I said, a starving camel is still bigger than a horse… Melissa cut me off, saying I was delusional. I laughed at their ignorance. If they’d bothered to learn anything about me, they wouldn’t say such things, and they certainly wouldn’t… look down on me like this. In front of everyone, I said to Ethan, “Let’s break up!” “You’re not good enough for me!” This statement dropped the atmosphere to freezing. Melissa looked at me in disbelief. She couldn’t understand why I would take the initiative to say this. With Montgomery bankrupt, shouldn’t I be clinging tightly to Ethan? “Claire, what are you being high and mighty about?” Melissa was unhappy. Ignoring her, I said to Ethan again, “Let’s break up. You disgust me.” “I’m the one dumping you.” Ethan put down his fork, looking at me in complete confusion. Like Melissa, he assumed that in this situation, I’d cling to him desperately, maybe even ask him to help the Montgomery family. He never expected me to break up with him. That sense of superiority vanished instantly, leaving both Ethan and Melissa at a complete loss. People, once they get too smug about something, become powerless when they lose what they were smug about. I sent that post to both Ethan and Melissa separately. “You made that post, didn’t you, Ethan?” “And you were the one who suggested swapping the real for the fake, weren’t you, Melissa? Also…” I took a deep breath. “Melissa, what did you want to say to me on Ethan’s behalf?” “Break up?” “Sorry, but I’m not in the habit of being dumped. I’m usually the one who dumps others.” “And Ethan is especially unworthy.” But even now, Ethan was still lying. “Claire, this post doesn’t prove anything. I don’t admit to it.” I closed my eyes. Ethan, you’re so stupid. He said he didn’t admit to it. Did he think I had no recourse if he didn’t admit it? I clicked on the profile and sent him a private message. A notification instantly appeared on Ethan’s phone. “Does this prove it now?” “What, you dare to post but don’t dare to admit it?” As for Melissa, I did the same thing. Having their scheme exposed, both Melissa and Ethan’s faces turned bright red. Ethan was somewhat displeased. “Claire, you tricked me!” “You knew all along that thing was fake, didn’t you?” Actually, I didn’t need to see the post to know whether it was real or fake. After all, as I mentioned before, I’ve spent more money on jewelry than they’ve ever seen. I picked up the necklace from the box and tossed it in front of Melissa. “A fake. It’s yours now.” “And Ethan too. I’m giving him to you as well.” The two exchanged awkward glances. In that moment, Ethan seemed to be blaming Melissa. “Claire, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” “I… I bought the real one. I just… just…” “Just heard that Montgomery Real Estate went bankrupt and decided I wasn’t worthy of the good stuff anymore?” “Ethan, let me say something arrogant. I was born into wealth. I’ve seen more jewelry than you’ve eaten meals. Whether or not I saw your post, I could tell at a glance if this thing was real or fake.” “I know you think that after Montgomery Real Estate went bankrupt, my family would become a burden to you, so you wanted to break up with me.” “Just like you said in that post—you didn’t want to be the bad guy, so you wanted me to take the initiative.” “Well, now I have. But I’m the one breaking up with you.” Ethan’s face went from white to red. Melissa suddenly stood up and pointed her finger at my nose. “Claire, you bitch, stop pretending.” “Bankrupt is bankrupt. Are you saying all this to play hard to get with Ethan?” I stepped forward and slapped Melissa hard across the face. “Bankrupt? Who told you that?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “360336”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #魔幻Magic #惊悚Thriller #浪漫Romance

On the third day of my business trip, a new female parent suddenly joined my son’s parent chat group, which had been quiet for so long. I clicked on the voice message, and an unfamiliar, sweet female voice played. “Hello everyone, I’m the new language arts teacher at the school, and I’m also Dylan’s mom. Looking forward to getting to know you all~” My whole body stiffened. I clicked into the group members list and compared them repeatedly. My son’s name is Dylan. She says she’s Dylan’s mom. Then who am I? I immediately called my husband. “Did someone get added to Dylan’s parent group by mistake?” On the other end of the line, his voice paused for a moment, then he laughed casually as if nothing was wrong. “Oh, probably just a mix-up. There are so many kids at the school, it’s normal to have duplicate names. Did something happen?” I said with a smile that it was nothing, then hung up. That same night, I caught the first flight back and headed straight to my son’s school. The plane landed and I took a cab directly to my son’s elementary school. He’s seven years old this year, in first grade. It was 1 PM—the first class had just started. The security guard was very responsible. As soon as he learned I was a student’s parent, he called the homeroom teacher. A few minutes later, a girl wearing a white shirt and black skirt, looking like she’d just graduated, came running out quickly. Her looks were average, barely pretty enough to be called delicate, but she spoke very gently, in a soft voice. A woman’s intuition told me she was the person I was looking for. Sure enough, the moment she saw me, she panicked. Her face turned frighteningly pale, and her hands and feet trembled uncontrollably, as if she’d seen some terrible beast. “Th-this parent, is there something—something you need at the school?” She was so scared she could barely speak clearly. Yet she had the audacity to announce in my son’s parent group that she was his mother. “I saw the group message.” Right in front of the security guard, I laid it out directly. “You said you’re Dylan’s mom? I’m very curious about that.” The girl’s hands, hanging at her knees, clenched instantly. Then, with a panicked expression, she glanced at the security guard and forced out a smile to explain. “Oh, that… it’s because the school is about to have a parent-teacher conference, and Dylan’s dad said he and his wife are both very busy and don’t have time.” “To keep Dylan from being sad, he specially asked me to pretend.” “If this has caused you any trouble, I’m very sorry!” What a perfect explanation. Not only did it clear her of any relationship, but it also took a swipe at me—the one busy on a business trip and not at home. If I hadn’t carefully studied her social media, I might have actually believed her. Wednesday night at 8 PM, the Grand Theater. She posted a photo of a man’s back buying roses. Caption: [The man I love isn’t a prince—he’s a king.] The next day, I ended up in the hospital because of a pollen allergy. Friday afternoon at 6 PM, heavy rain in the city. She posted a selfie of herself sheltering under the school eaves. Caption: [When will my king come pick me up and take me home?] Three minutes later, Marcus sent me a message. “Honey, I have to work late tonight. I can’t pick up our son. Sorry to trouble you.” I was getting an IV drip at the hospital when I received the message, drowsy from the medication. By the time I saw the message, two hours had passed. No one picked up my son. He stood in the cold wind at the security booth for two full hours. That night, he spiked a fever of 102 degrees. On the way to the hospital, Marcus kept sighing. Every word blamed me for not checking my phone. I really thought I wasn’t a good mother. Touching my son’s flushed face, I said “I’m sorry” all night long. But it turned out the one who should apologize wasn’t me. My hand gripping my purse turned white from the pressure. My gaze slowly swept over the girl’s guilty, flustered face. It landed on the glaring blue on her earlobe, and I smiled knowingly. “Miss Rain’s earrings are beautiful. Did your boyfriend give them to you? They must have been expensive, right?” Last week on Valentine’s Day, I personally discovered Marcus’s shopping records. A pure gold bracelet and a pair of sapphire earrings. The bracelet cost five thousand dollars—worn on my wrist. The earrings cost thirty-eight thousand—given by him to the woman standing in front of me. When Rain heard my words, her face went pale instantly. Her lips trembled for a long time, but she couldn’t squeeze out a single word. Worthless. That word suddenly popped into my mind. Without looking at her again, I turned and left. On the way home, I called my father. He was Marcus’s direct superior, the man in control of the White Group. “Dad, I need a favor.” I changed my phone wallpaper from our family photo to one of just me and my son, my voice unnaturally calm. “The marketing director position we promised Marcus—cancel it. And find me the best divorce lawyer. I’m divorcing Marcus.” “Yes, he cheated on me with my son’s language arts teacher.”

My father moved quickly. In less than half an hour, the divorce lawyer added me and sent over 3GB of evidence and materials. I clicked through. Besides the social media posts of Rain’s that I could see, there was also a video account I’d never seen before. Eighty-three posts, every single one featuring Marcus’s shadow. I learned that last Christmas, when Marcus claimed he was working overtime and didn’t come home, he actually flew to Rain’s side to draw little stars with her in the snow. I learned that on my son’s seventh birthday, the gift Marcus gave him was picked out together with Rain. A teddy bear. In the video, Rain stuffed intimate photos of her and Marcus into the bear’s belly while laughing triumphantly. “A surprise for Marcus’s precious son.” “I can’t wait for the day it’s discovered.” Random viewers in the comments didn’t understand. [Is the host’s boyfriend from a divorced family?] Rain, using a kitten avatar, responded: [Yes, but I’ll soon replace his mom’s position.] Accompanied by a row of shy emojis. And the most recent one, uploaded the day I left on my business trip. The background was the storage room of our house. Rain leaned against the door with a selfie stick, smiling innocently at the camera. “Marcus’s kid is so naughty. I’m going to lock him in the dark room as punishment.” The background audio was my seven-year-old son Dylan’s terrified, pleading cries. My hand gripping the mouse suddenly tightened. I stood up with a jolt, remembering the night I landed in another province. I called home more than a dozen times. It wasn’t until the seventeenth call that someone finally answered. “Why did it take so long to answer? Where’s Dylan?” I was very anxious, afraid something had happened at home. On the other end, Marcus’s breathing clearly grew heavier. After a long pause, he stammered an explanation. “Dylan—he had a nightmare. It took me forever to get him back to sleep. Whatever it is, let’s talk about it tomorrow.” At the time, I didn’t think much of it and let Marcus brush me off. Looking back now, all the signs were there… My heart felt like it had a huge hole ripped through it, cold wind whistling through. It wasn’t that I was sad about Marcus cheating. It was that I never imagined he would let someone else hurt our child. When our son was born, just because his jaundice levels were a bit high and he needed phototherapy, Marcus was so nervous he canceled all his work and stayed by his side twenty-four hours a day. The coldness in my heart grew heavier. I sat back down and continued browsing the evidence of Marcus’s affair. Suddenly, Rain’s video account updated. In the frame, she wore the same clothes from when we met. Tear stains lingered at the corners of her eyes, looking pitiful. “Marcus’s ex-wife came to cause trouble again. She even said I’m not fit to be Dylan’s mom. I’m so scared.” She sniffled, casually revealing her chat interface with Marcus. “But thankfully Marcus spoils me. He promised to attend tomorrow’s parent-teacher conference with me. I’m finally going to be a child’s mother. So nervous.” She didn’t tell Marcus I came back? Looking at Marcus’s blue profile picture in the video—unchanged since our son was born—I smiled softly. Fine. Since it’s a parent-teacher conference, it wouldn’t be strange for me, the real mother, to attend, would it?

The next day, the school parent-teacher conference. I dressed inconspicuously and blended into the crowd, taking a seat in the most secluded corner of my son’s classroom. As soon as I sat down, Marcus sent me a message. [Summer, how’s work going? When are you coming home?] He was testing me. [Just arrived at the venue. Can’t talk now, the meeting’s about to start.] I replied dismissively. The chat box showed “typing…” then came a little cat emoji indicating acknowledgment. Identical to Rain’s profile picture. Feeling a bit disgusted, I put away my phone without responding further. Rain, as the new homeroom teacher this semester, walked onto the stage. She had dressed up specially today. A simple beige dress, hair braided to the side, face painted with delicate makeup. Different from yesterday’s timid cowardice, she now carried a deliberately performed maternal air. The more I looked, the more nauseating it became. “Good evening, parents. Today our parent-teacher conference theme is ‘Harmonious Family.’ Family has always been the most important safe haven for children. As parents, we must care about our children’s mental health and create a happy, harmonious family environment…” On the stage, she spoke eloquently to the parents, even telling several small stories, reminding parents of the importance of being responsible to their families. Yet ironically, the person destroying my family was her. Even more absurd, after saying all this, she suddenly tapped the podium and looked at the parents below with a shy expression. “Actually, today I have one more announcement. My son, Dylan, is also in this class.” Rain turned her head and waved toward the door. “Marcus, Dylan, come in quickly.” The classroom erupted in commotion. Marcus walked into the classroom slowly, holding our son’s hand. He had styled his hair, wore a black suit, his hair carefully slicked back, and wore the expensive watch I gave him on his wrist. But our son—his clothes were wrinkled, his hair wet and plastered to his forehead, looking like he had a fever. My heart clenched painfully. I almost couldn’t control my urge to rush forward and snatch my son back. But reason told me now wasn’t the time. I needed to wait for Rain to personally admit her intimate relationship with Marcus, to let her reputation be destroyed. “Hello everyone, I’m Rain’s husband, Marcus.” He tugged at our dazed son, his lips carrying the gentle smile I knew so well, but the words he spoke made my whole body turn cold. “Dylan, say hello to Mommy.” My son shook his head, hiding behind him, saying softly: “She’s not my mom.” Some parents below also questioned it. “I remember Dylan’s mom is Summer White, right? I saw her before school started. What’s going on?” “Yeah, I remember too. What’s this about?” Rain’s face turned deathly pale instantly, looking at Marcus as if seeking help. Sure enough, after only two seconds of hesitation, he calmly stepped onto the stage, cleared his throat, and spoke. “Everyone’s misunderstood.” “Summer White is not my son’s mother. She’s just…” He paused, his gaze falling tenderly on Rain. “She’s just the nanny I hired for my son. Miss Rain is my son’s real mother.” Nanny? I froze, the emotions in my eyes crystallizing into ice. Marcus and I had been together since college, weathering ten years of storms. When his startup failed and he fell into massive debt, I fell out with my father for his sake. When his frequent business dinners gave him stomach problems, I woke up at 5 AM every day to make him soup. When he said he loved children, on the operating table, I even considered saving the baby over myself. Now, in front of my son, in front of all his classmates’ parents, he said I was just a nanny. The coldness in my heart reversed to the extreme, transforming into a raging fire. The parents in the classroom seemed convinced, suddenly understanding. “So that’s it. Then Summer White is way out of line. Just a nanny, yet she lets the child call her mom.” Someone even advised Rain. “Miss Rain, you’re too soft. You must be more careful. Can’t let the nanny get too bold. If she leads the child astray, that’ll be a big problem.” “Exactly. These nannies are the worst.” Rain was overjoyed, smiling gently and virtuously. “Yes, yes, you’re right.” “I’ll be careful.” My son, eyes red, objected: “No, you’re wrong. She’s not my mom. My mom’s name is Summer White.” A parent clicked their tongue, showing disdain. “See? Already led astray, right? Can’t even recognize his own mother. When he grows up, he’ll be an ungrateful child. Miss Rain, you and Mr. Marcus really need to educate this child properly.” “Exactly. My daughter would never dare act like this. Miss Rain spoils the child too much.” “If you ask me, give him a timeout right now and discipline him. Once he’s calmed down, he’ll behave.” “That’s too strict, isn’t it? I say ground him in his room. When he learns to call her properly, then let him out.” The parents chimed in one after another, offering their suggestions. Rain’s eyes couldn’t hide her delight, though on the surface she still pretended to be reluctant, looking hesitantly at Marcus. “Marcus, what they’re saying makes sense. Maybe we should…” “Wait!” I stood up, pulled off my disguise mask, took out my phone that had been recording video the whole time, and spoke decisively. “Marcus, in front of everyone, I’ll ask you one more time. If Rain is Dylan’s mom, then who am I?” The smiles on Marcus and Rain’s faces froze.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “360335”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #魔幻Magic #惊悚Thriller #浪漫Romance

On the first of every month, my mom would give me my living allowance based on my performance from the previous month. “You can earn $20 for greeting your parents morning and night, but last month you only met the requirement for ten days, so you only get $200.” “The $300 bonus is also being completely deducted.” “Adding the base allowance of $150, your living expenses this month will only be $350.” “Write me an absence report later. Once you write one that’s acceptable, I’ll transfer the money to you.” My voice trembled with anxiety. “Mom, I was preparing for finals last month.” “I had to line up at the library every morning to get a seat. That’s why I couldn’t call you on time.” I begged with tears in my voice. “The plane ticket home for Christmas costs $600. $350 really isn’t enough.” “Mom, could you please—” She cut me off decisively. “The allowance system was specifically designed for you! It’s to help you break your habit of expecting handouts! Why can’t you understand my good intentions!” She hung up. When I was helpless and desperate, a thug appeared. He was willing to buy me a ticket if I went with him. ……

I lowered my head in shame. “But I… I don’t have money to pay you back.” The thug and his friends froze for a moment, looking at me like I was an idiot. “You don’t need to pay it back. Just have dinner with us, and I’ll give you the money for the ticket right away.” Have one meal with them and earn my ticket home. I was tempted. I desperately wanted to go home. Last week, Grandma had specially walked to the little store at the village entrance to call me. She said she’d already prepared the softest quilt for me. She’d also made my favorite apple pie. Grandma raised me herself. She was seventy-eight this year. Last year, she was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Every time we saw each other could be our last. So I had to go home and spend Christmas with her. I squeezed the $350 in my pocket tightly. I made up my mind and nodded at the thug. They took me to a remote rental unit. The thug pointed at six bottles of beer on the table and slapped six hundred dollars in cash down. “Drink one bottle, get a hundred. Finish all six, and your ticket is yours.” I looked at the six hundred on the table, and Grandma’s face appeared before my eyes. She sat in the courtyard, reaching out her wrinkled hand to touch my face, saying with concern, “You’ve gotten so thin. Haven’t you been eating properly at school? I’ll make you something good.” Tears welled up again. I wiped them away and tried to encourage myself. Mom always taught me that as country folk, if we wanted something, we had to work twice as hard for it. As long as I finished these six bottles, I could see Grandma. This little hardship was nothing. I grabbed a bottle of beer, twisted off the cap, and poured it down my throat. I’d never drunk alcohol before. I choked and coughed violently. The thug’s friends whistled at me. Their eyes swept over my body lecherously as they spewed disgusting obscenities. Suddenly, I felt a strong sense of unease. I excused myself to go to the bathroom, shut the door, and immediately called my mom for help. The call finally connected, and I rushed to speak. “Mom, help—” Before I could finish, she cut me off angrily. “Leah, I’m so disappointed in you!” “You’re always scheming, always trying to be clever and break the rules. Deep down, you just want something for nothing!” “This time, I’m going to fix this rotten habit of yours!” She hung up furiously. I called back frantically, but no one answered. The bathroom door was kicked open. The thug stood in the doorway with a menacing expression and dragged me out.

He was incredibly strong. I couldn’t break free at all. I was shaking with fear. It was too late to run. I struggled and screamed, but no one paid attention to my pleas. They treated me like prey, forcing bottle after bottle of alcohol down my throat. My consciousness gradually faded. I sank into endless darkness and had a terrible dream. In the dream, I became a bloody lamb, surrounded by a group of people. Nowhere to run. I could only submit to the slaughter. When I woke up again, I was somehow on a train heading home. I blinked in confusion but couldn’t help feeling excited. I was finally on my way home. I would see Grandma soon. Strangely, when the conductor came by to check tickets, she verified each passenger’s ticket one by one. But when she passed by me, she walked right past as if she couldn’t see me at all. After getting off the train, I ran the whole way, wishing I could fly to Grandma’s side. When I reached the village entrance, I saw Grandma in the distance. She stood alone by the old millstone at the village entrance, leaning on her cane, motionless, gazing toward the direction I usually came from. A neighbor passing by couldn’t help but urge her, “Mrs. Miller, it’s so cold out here. You should go back inside.” But Grandma stubbornly shook her head, her face full of hopeful anticipation. She kept murmuring, “Just a little longer, just a little longer…” I took off running toward her, shouting, “Grandma, I’m back!” I opened my arms, wanting to hug her tight. But my hands passed right through her body without meeting any resistance. I stood frozen in place. So, I was already dead. To earn the money for my trip home, I had died in that rental unit. I had died during my first winter break after starting college. Grandma waited until the sun had completely set. Only then did the light in her eyes fade inch by inch. Filled with disappointment, she hunched her back and slowly walked home. The yellow dog following behind her, however, bounced around me excitedly, rubbing its head against my legs. I followed Grandma home. A brand-new car was parked at the gate of the courtyard. My parents were carrying bags of holiday goods into the house, their faces full of joy. But when had my family ever been able to afford a car? Mom had always told me that money was tight this year. She told me to be frugal at school and not keep asking her for money. My little brother, Danny, hopped out of the car and ran to Grandma’s side. “Grandma, where’s my sister? Why isn’t she home yet?” “I’m waiting for her to tell me stories.” Grandma patted Danny’s head. “The tickets were probably hard to get… She must have changed it to tomorrow.” When Mom heard this, she angrily slammed her suitcase on the ground. She exploded, “That little brat is definitely giving me attitude!” “Just because I deducted a tiny bit of her allowance, she won’t even come home!” “If she has the nerve, she can stay away forever. I’ll pretend I never had this daughter!” “She spends our hard-earned money every day, yet she can’t even manage to greet her parents on time. What an ungrateful wretch!” I stood in front of Mom, desperately waving my hands to explain. “Mom, that’s not it. I wasn’t giving you attitude. I wasn’t refusing to come home.” “I came back on time. You just can’t see me!” “I’m not ungrateful. I really worked so hard. I got first place in my major on the finals!” But no matter how much I shouted or waved, they couldn’t hear me. They couldn’t see me.

Grandma turned and went back inside. Like when I was little, I gently leaned against her back. I greedily breathed in the familiar scent of soap on her. I wished this moment could last just a little longer. Grandma put on her reading glasses and pulled an old box out from under the bed. She opened it carefully. Inside were three bundles wrapped in floral cloth. She opened the first one. Inside was a savings passbook. She smiled as she murmured, “This is the savings I’ve accumulated my whole life. A full fifty thousand dollars.” “I’m saving it for Leah. This is her wedding fund.” She had a terminal illness herself and couldn’t even bear to buy medicine, yet she wanted to leave all her savings to me. My eyes instantly welled up. So ghosts could cry too. She opened the second bundle. Inside were two gleaming gold bracelets. I’d never seen her wear them, yet they were polished to a bright shine. Grandma drifted into memories. “These were the jewelry my mother gave me when I got married.” “They’re the most valuable things I own. I could never bear to wear them.” “Ah, I really want to hold on just a little longer, live a couple more years, so I can put these on Leah myself on her wedding day.” I sobbed uncontrollably. “Grandma, I’m sorry. I can’t do it anymore!” Finally, she opened the third bundle. Inside was a neatly folded piece of paper. When unfolded, it was the deed to the old house. Grandma’s voice carried a hint of guilt. “Your brother is only five, but your parents already bought him a house in the city.” “Grandma doesn’t have the means to buy a big house in the city.” “But this old house can still keep out the wind and rain. If Leah ever faces hardship out there, she can come back to her own home.” “When you miss Grandma, just go to the cemetery on the east side of the village and talk to me. I’ll hear you.” I couldn’t hold back anymore. I rushed forward to tell her. I’m already dead. Take this money and get treatment! Don’t keep worrying about me. Don’t keep caring for me. Forget about me! Live your life! But she couldn’t hear my cries. I could only watch helplessly as she lovingly hid the wooden box back under the bed. At dinner, Mom had prepared a table full of food. Grandma sat at the table but barely touched anything. She kept glancing toward the door, full of hope and worry. Seeing Grandma like this, Dad hesitantly spoke up. “Maybe… we should give Leah a call.” Mom slammed her fork on the table, her face instantly darkening. “Call her? I see you’re all just spoiling her!” “What, I’m her mother, and I can’t discipline my own child?” “I’m telling you, nobody is calling her today. She needs to reflect properly. We can’t keep indulging her bad habits!” Grandma was already in poor health. Startled by Mom’s outburst, she began coughing violently. Dad quickly rubbed her back to help her catch her breath. Mom said stiffly to Grandma, “Mom, some things aren’t pleasant to hear, but I have to say them!” “Leah was raised by you to have no sense of rules.” “The check-in system I created for her allowance is for her own good.” “It’s to teach her workplace survival skills before she even enters the workforce!” “To make her understand that you have to give before you can receive. There are no free handouts in life!” “Mom, as her grandmother, all you do is spoil and indulge her. That’s not loving her—that’s harming her!” “When she enters society someday, she’s going to suffer for it!” Grandma was a gentle, kind-hearted country woman. She had never argued with anyone in her life, let alone her son and daughter-in-law. Her lips moved, wanting to push back. But she couldn’t find the words. For a long time, nothing came out. All she could do was stand there with reddened eyes, like a helpless child.

After a long while, Grandma finally gathered the courage to speak. “If you won’t contact Leah, I will!” “If you won’t let her come home, I will!” With that, she grabbed her cane and headed for the door. Seeing Grandma about to leave, Mom flew into a rage. She pointed at Grandma’s back and shouted, “See! This is exactly how you spoiled Leah!” “When she enters the workforce someday, she’ll just be another weakling who can’t handle the harsh reality!” “She’ll never amount to anything!” The angrier she got, the more she fumed. She stormed into the bedroom Grandma had specially cleaned up for me. My heart sank. I hurried after her. I watched as Mom yanked the new quilt off my bed and threw it hard on the floor. She even stomped on it viciously, cursing, “I’ll show her for not coming home! I’ll show her for giving me attitude! She doesn’t deserve this quilt!” Then her eyes landed on the wall covered with certificates. From elementary school through high school, they were lined up neatly on the wall. Those were the honors I’d worked for my whole life. They were Grandma’s pride. But Mom ripped them all down and tore them to shreds. “What good are these stupid certificates! Can they put food on the table?” “Can they teach her manners?” “No gratitude, no effort! Even with all these certificates, she’s still an ungrateful wretch! A waste!” I stared at the torn scraps all over the floor, shouting desperately at Mom. “Mom, I wasn’t spoiled. I was always well-behaved.” “I could carry two buckets of water to help Grandma water the fields when I was five.” “I can cook, do laundry, take care of Grandma when she’s sick.” “I know how hard you and Dad work for money. I really never complained.” “Grandma and I lived on welfare. I’ve been careful with money since I was little. I never wasted a single cent.” I pointed at my closet, wanting her to open it and look. Every piece of clothing inside was patched. If she didn’t believe me, she could ask the elders in the village or any of my teachers. They all said I was responsible, filial, hardworking, and diligent. Grandma always told me that you loved me—you were just too busy with work to spend time with me. So I always tried my best. I studied hard, behaved well, because I was afraid of being a burden to you, afraid you wouldn’t like me. Just then, there was a commotion of footsteps at the door. Dad’s face immediately relaxed into a smile. He said to Mom, “See? The kid came to apologize. She’s right at the door.” As soon as Mom heard this, she straightened her back. The door was pushed open. The village chief stumbled in. When Mom saw it was the village chief, she assumed I’d sent him to plead on my behalf. She crossed her arms, her face cold. “What are you doing here?” “Let me tell you, it doesn’t matter who comes to plead today. She made a mistake, and she has to face the consequences.” “Tell her she has to write me a five-thousand-word self-criticism and read it aloud at the village entrance! Otherwise, she’s not setting foot in this house.” The village chief, interrupted by Mom, was sweating profusely. Grandma’s eyes darted anxiously behind him. “Where’s Leah? Where is she?” The village chief looked at my stubborn mother, then gritted his teeth and stomped his foot. He cried out in anguish, “Something terrible has happened!” “You foolish parents—how could you push your child to this point!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “360334”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #魔幻Magic #惊悚Thriller #浪漫Romance