Every time my husband Ethan was about to leave the house, I would casually remind him: “Remember to take the trash out.” But he always forgot. Later, I discovered he was always helping our female neighbor Sophie take out her trash. I stood at the door watching him enthusiastically help the female neighbor. I said nothing, picked up the sour-smelling garbage bag myself, and went downstairs. From that day on, I stopped reminding him of anything. Some people are just like garbage—it was time for me to throw him away. …… Ethan came home at two in the morning. I wasn’t asleep yet. I was sitting on the living room carpet, sorting through our household expense records from the past few years. When I heard the door open, I didn’t look up. A faint scent of perfume mixed with cigarette smoke and alcohol drifted over. “Honey, still up?” Ethan’s voice carried a guilty, ingratiating tone. He was holding an elegant insulated container, crouching in front of me. “I passed by ‘The Ocean Grill’ on my way back and specially waited in line to buy you some seafood. It’s still hot.” He spoke while changing his shoes, looking at me with a smug expression. I was also sitting on the sofa reading a book. Hearing this, I looked up, my gaze falling on that container of soup. The Ocean Grill’s seafood was famous—generous portions, plump shrimp and crab. But because of those generous portions, even with the lid on, that rich, briny sweetness still seeped through the gaps. My stomach churned, and I frowned almost imperceptibly. “Thanks, just leave it there.” I said flatly. Ethan seemed somewhat dissatisfied with my coldness. He walked over, placed the seafood on the table, and tried to rest his hand on my shoulder, but I avoided it by pretending to turn a page. His hand froze in mid-air, then he awkwardly withdrew it, instead undoing his cufflinks and beginning to remove his dress shirt. “Oh, I need to wear this shirt to a meeting tomorrow. It’s a bit wrinkled—can you iron it for me? Remember to hand wash it first before ironing. This fabric is delicate; it can’t go in the machine.” That matter-of-fact tone, as if I were some high-end housekeeper he’d hired. I glanced at the shirt. It was a gift I’d given him for our wedding anniversary—Italian custom-made silk blend. It was indeed delicate. Before, every piece of clothing like this, I would personally hand wash in cold water, carefully smooth out every wrinkle with a steam iron, terrified of damaging a single thread. Looking at him, I suddenly found it a bit funny. “Ethan,” I pointed at the container of seafood, “did you forget? I’m severely allergic to seafood.” Ethan’s hands froze mid-motion as he was loosening his tie. A flash of shock crossed his face, followed by embarrassment and guilt. “Huh? Really? I thought you used to love eating fish…” “That was freshwater fish.” I set down the bills. “Last time I accidentally ate seafood, I was in the ER on an IV drip for two days. You’re the one who handled the hospital admission.” That happened just last year. At the time, he was playing on his phone while complaining about how hard the hospital chairs were, saying how careless I was, making him have to take time off work to stay with me. Looking back now, he really hadn’t taken it to heart. Ethan’s face alternated between red and white, his eyes shifting. “Well… maybe I got confused. I just wanted to nourish your health. Good intentions gone wrong. I’ll buy you something else next time.” As he spoke, he tried to take the seafood away, but I had already stood up. I picked up that expensive container of seafood, walked to the kitchen, and threw it—packaging and all—straight into the trash. A dull thud. Ethan’s expression changed completely. “Emma, what’s that supposed to mean? You’re just throwing away seafood worth hundreds of dollars? I haven’t even had dinner yet!” “I don’t want allergens in the house. Bad luck.” I turned on the faucet to wash my hands, my tone as calm as if I were commenting on the nice weather. Ethan was speechless. He took a deep breath, seemingly suppressing his anger, and pointed at the shirt. “Fine, the seafood thing was my fault. But can you at least take care of the shirt first? I’m hungry—I’m going to make some pasta.” He turned and headed to the kitchen, skillfully opening cabinets to find noodles. I dried my hands, picked up the silk shirt, and walked into the laundry room. Instead of filling a basin with warm water like I usually did, I opened the washing machine door directly and tossed the balled-up shirt inside. I poured in regular detergent, selected “Heavy Duty” mode, and started it. As the drum rumbled into motion, I knew that delicate shirt was done for. When Ethan came out with his pasta, he heard the spin cycle. He froze for a moment, then rushed to the laundry room. Seeing the high-speed spinning drum, his eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Emma! Have you lost your mind? That shirt cost over three thousand dollars! Didn’t I tell you to hand wash it?” He frantically stopped the machine and yanked out the shirt—now wrinkled like a dried pickle, the collar already misshapen. His face contorted with heartache. I leaned against the doorframe, watching his frantic display, feeling absolutely nothing. “I used to hand wash because I loved you. Because I thought you were worth it.” I met his furious gaze, a mocking curve forming at the corner of my lips. “Now? The washing machine works fine too. It’s going to get wrinkled on your body anyway—why waste the time?” Ethan stared at me in disbelief, as if seeing me for the first time. “You weren’t like this before. Emma, what’s gotten into you lately? Just because I helped Sophie take out the trash a few times, you have to keep making a scene?” Oh, so he knew everything. He knew exactly what was bothering me, yet he chose to play dumb and even turn it around, accusing me of “making a scene.” I looked at the wet wad of ruined fabric in his hands and said softly: “Ethan, when clothes get ruined, you can buy new ones. But some things, once broken, can never be fixed.”

Ever since the seafood incident, Ethan hadn’t spoken a proper word to me in two days. But his Instagram was plenty active. He’d blocked me but forgot to block my second account. Yesterday there was a photo of him in the hallway fixing a shoe cabinet, with the caption: Neighbors should help each other out. In the corner of the photo, a pair of feet in pink bunny slippers peeked into frame. Those were Sophie’s. Scrolling down, I found Sophie’s Instagram. Same angle, showing Ethan’s back as he crouched on the ground, screwdriver in hand, a cute Band-Aid on the back of his hand. Caption: The world’s best neighbor. He hurt his hand helping me fix my cabinet. So touched~ The two of them, playing off each other like they were flirting. I casually liked the post. Then I closed my phone and tossed the last shrimp on the dining table into the trash. Ethan sat across from me, his expression sour. “Emma, when did you become so selfish? You used to always peel shrimp for me too.” I sipped my tea leisurely, saying nothing, just watching him calmly. He stopped what he was doing and tossed a half-peeled shrimp onto his plate, frowning at me. “Why aren’t you answering? You won’t even peel shrimp for me? Before, you would’ve already peeled a whole bowl for me by now.” Before? Yes, before. Ethan used to say he was clumsy, that peeling shrimp always pricked his fingers. He said his hands were precious because he was a designer—they couldn’t get hurt. So every time we had shrimp, I would peel them one by one and feed them to him. Watching him eat happily, I even felt it was a kind of happiness. Even later, when my fingers became red, swollen, and peeling from handling spicy peppers, he’d only casually say “don’t peel them next time”—and then wait for me to serve him again the next time anyway. “Ethan,” I set down my teacup, my gaze falling on his slender, pale hands, “your hands really are precious.” He thought I was complimenting him and gave a smug hum. “Of course. These hands are meant for drafting designs.” “Yes, drafting hands.” I let out a cold laugh. “The other night in the hallway, when you were fixing Sophie’s shoe cabinet—how come you didn’t mention your precious hands then?” “That… Sophie’s cabinet was broken. She’s just a girl living alone, and she couldn’t move it herself. I happened to run into her—I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing, right? I was just helping out.” “Just helping out? Looks to me like you brought a fully stocked toolbox.” I scoffed. “Ethan, you used to make me climb a ladder to change the light bulbs in our house because you said you had a fear of heights. What happened—did your fear of heights get cured when it came to fixing the neighbor’s cabinet? Or do your hands only count as ‘precious’ when you’re helping other people, while at home you just wait to be served?” Ethan’s face flushed red. “Can you stop being so passive-aggressive? What’s wrong with neighbors helping each other? Look at yourself right now—where’s any trace of the sweet, caring wife you used to be?” “Sweet and caring?” I set down my cup. “Ethan, my sweetness was for my husband. Not for an asshole. And since your hands are so skilled now, don’t expect me to call a repairman when things break around here anymore. Save some money—you can fix them yourself.” With that, I got up and started cleaning the kitchen. Ethan sat there, watching my efficient movements, probably realizing for the first time that the Emma who used to smile and agree to everything he said had truly changed. Changed for the better. After all, everyone has their moment of seeing reality for what it is.

Of course, Ethan wasn’t going to reflect on himself over something this small. In his mind, I was just throwing a tantrum and would get over it in a few days. He continued doing whatever he wanted. Every morning before leaving, he would make a point of going to the passenger side to adjust the position of the neck pillow. I never understood why. Until one day, I found a lipstick wedged in the gap of the passenger seat—one that didn’t belong to me. A bold, flashy shade with a sickeningly sweet peach scent. Nothing like my usual matte red. That evening when Ethan came home, I placed the lipstick on the coffee table. “Whose is this?” Ethan glanced at it, and for a split second, panic flickered in his eyes before he quickly composed himself. “Oh, probably Sophie’s. I ran into her this morning on my way out—she was heading to work and couldn’t get a cab in time, so I gave her a ride since it was on the way.” “On the way?” I raised an eyebrow. Sophie’s office was on the east side of the city. Ethan’s was on the west. That “on the way” could probably circle the globe. “Yeah, on the way,” Ethan said impatiently. “Can you stop being so paranoid? She’s a young woman working hard out here on her own. What’s wrong with giving her a ride?” “Is that so?” I didn’t ask any more questions. I just opened my phone and pulled up Sophie’s social media. Posted ten minutes ago. The photo was taken from the passenger seat of Ethan’s car, capturing his hands on the steering wheel and the perfectly positioned neck pillow. Caption: The best chauffeur service ever—not only is he a great driver, but he even prepared a lumbar pillow for me. Love it~ No more squeezing onto the subway after work! Ethan had liked the post. That passenger seat used to be mine. Ethan once said the passenger seat was reserved for his wife—everyone else had to sit in the back. Now it seemed “everyone else” didn’t include Sophie. I casually liked the post too, then shoved the phone screen in Ethan’s face. “Personal chauffeur? Ethan, is this what you call ‘on the way’? You’re driving her to and from work—did you two start working at the same company?” Ethan’s expression shifted. He reached to grab the phone. “She’s just joking! Young people talk like that these days—can you stop making a big deal out of everything?” I dodged him, letting out a cold laugh. “Fine. Since it’s just a joke, I don’t mind making one too.” Right in front of him, I called the real estate agent. “Hi, This is Emma. Yes, the downtown apartment—I want to list it for sale. As soon as possible. Price is negotiable.” That apartment was something I bought outright before we got married. Even though Ethan had been living here since we got married, acting like the man of the house, the deed only had one name on it. Mine. Ethan completely panicked. “Emma, have you lost your mind?! This place is perfectly fine—why would you sell it? Where are we supposed to live?” I hung up the phone and looked at his frantic face, feeling immensely satisfied. “It’s my apartment. I can sell it whenever I want. As for where you’ll live…” I looked him up and down, a mocking smile curving my lips. “Since you love being someone’s personal chauffeur so much, why don’t you ask your ‘passenger’ if she’s willing to take you in?” “You’re absolutely impossible!” Ethan stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Off to find Sophie again, I assumed. I didn’t care. The air in this apartment had been polluted long ago.

Over the next few days, Ethan gave me the silent treatment. He thought this would wear me down, make me apologize first like I always used to. Too bad he miscalculated. Not only did I not back down, I actually started living better than before. Without that man-child dragging me down, the air even felt fresher. Until my birthday. As usual, I invited a few girlfriends over for dinner. We were in the middle of chatting and laughing when the doorbell rang. Ethan went to answer it. Standing outside was Sophie, wearing a silk slip nightgown. In her hands was a plate of sloppily cut fruit. “Ethan, I heard how lively it is over here. It’s so lonely being by myself—mind if I crash and grab a bite?” Her voice was soft and syrupy, her eyes locked on Ethan, completely ignoring the room full of women. The nightgown wasn’t exactly revealing, but in a room full of guests, it was wildly inappropriate and dripping with innuendo. Ethan clearly hadn’t expected her to show up, but one glance at her outfit made his Adam’s apple bob. He stepped aside to let her in. “Of course, the more the merrier.” My friends’ expressions instantly became priceless. Ethan rushed to explain: “Let me introduce everyone—this is our neighbor Sophie. She’s here to celebrate Emma’s birthday too.” Goosebumps crawled across my skin. Sophie acted like she didn’t notice the side-eyes, squeezing in right next to Ethan and pushing the fruit plate toward him. “Ethan, I cut this just for you. Try it—is it sweet?” Ethan glanced awkwardly at me. Seeing I said nothing, he picked up a piece of apple and ate it. “Mm, pretty sweet.” “Hehe, I knew you’d like it.” Sophie giggled, her body casually leaning against his. “Ugh, the AC in here is so cold. Ethan, could you grab me a blanket?” Without a second thought, Ethan got up, went to the bedroom, and came back with my favorite cashmere throw to drape over her shoulders. At that moment, I heard one of my friends mutter under her breath: “What a pair of dogs.” My hand paused mid-slice on the cake, then steadied. “Come on, let’s eat cake.” I handed the first slice to my friend, completely ignoring the little love show happening beside me. Just then, Sophie’s phone rang. She answered it, and her face went white. She started whimpering: “What?! Really? That’s so scary! Ethan, I think the power went out at my place—it’s pitch black and there are weird noises… I’m so scared!” She hung up, eyes glistening with tears as she looked at Ethan, clutching his sleeve. “Ethan, can you come check it out for me? I really can’t go back there alone…” Ethan immediately stood up, full of concern. “Don’t worry, don’t worry. I’ll go take a look. Probably just a blown fuse—no big deal.” Then he turned to me, as if it were the most natural thing in the world: “Emma, Sophie’s got an electrical issue. I’m going to help her fix it. I’ll be right back. You guys go ahead and eat—don’t wait for me.” I looked at him, still holding the cake knife. Red frosting clung to the blade. It looked like blood. “Ethan, today is my birthday.” I reminded him calmly. “I know, I know, but I can’t just leave her in trouble, right? Neighbors should help each other out! I’ll be quick—be good, okay?” He didn’t even wait for my response. With his arm around Sophie’s shoulders, he headed for the door. Sophie nestled against him and glanced back at me. That look in her eyes was full of challenge and the smugness of a victor. Slam. The door shut. The room fell into dead silence. One of my friends slammed her fork on the table. “Emma! You’re just going to take this?! She’s a total homewrecker! And your husband is blind!” I set down the knife and wiped the frosting off my hands with a napkin. “What am I supposed to do? You can’t stop a dog from eating shit.” I walked to the door, locked it, and latched the security chain. “Let’s eat. Don’t let some nobody ruin the mood.” That night, Ethan didn’t come home. My phone was full of messages from him. Honey, the wiring here is pretty complicated. Still working on it. Sophie was really shaken up. She won’t stop crying. I need to calm her down. I probably won’t make it back tonight. Get some sleep. … I didn’t reply to a single one. I tossed my phone aside, and my friends and I drank until dawn.

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My words have always come true since birth. When I first learned to talk, I babbled that Dad was going to get rich, and that very night, he won a hundred million in the lottery. When I was six, I said the old man in town whose grandson went missing would have him returned safely. The next day, someone found the dirty child at the community entrance. At eighteen, I commented online that the bankrupt Sullivan Group would turn things around against all odds. Sure enough, half a month later, Sullivan Group’s stock soared back to its peak! And so, with just my words, I was treated as an honored guest by the Foster Group. But the moment I stepped into the Foster family’s villa, someone grabbed my collar from behind and slammed me hard onto the ground. “You homewrecker! Isn’t it enough that you’ve been clinging to Riley outside? You actually chased her all the way here? Desperate to climb your way up, aren’t you? I think you’re tired of living!” Falsely accused out of nowhere, I tried desperately to explain, but these people were convinced I was a social climber and beat me with fists and kicks. As my watch shattered against the stone steps with a crisp crack, I tasted the faint metallic tang of blood between my lips and teeth. No one knew that besides my words coming true, I also carried a curse–whoever made me bleed would be plagued with terrible luck. It seemed the Foster family was headed for complete ruin.

“Mr. Carter, please have a seat here. Damien is already on his way back from the company.” “He’ll be here soon.” The butler treated me with respect, smiling obsequiously. I waved my hand. “No need to be so formal.” My words have always come true since birth. Damien had been half-skeptical at first. Two years ago, he tested my ability. I said one sentence–that their stock would rise. That very evening, the stock skyrocketed. The Foster family, which had been teetering on the edge of collapse, managed to hang on for two more years thanks to that one sentence. From then on, Damien knew I was the person he’d been searching for. To get me to speak those golden words again, Damien pulled out all the stops. He even offered to add me to the Foster family trust’s beneficiary list, letting me enjoy the family’s privileges for life. Only then did I reluctantly agree. After the butler settled me in, she went to the kitchen to prepare some fruit. The other household staff treated me with utmost respect, their eyes full of reverence. I sat on the sofa, quietly waiting for Damien to return, when a stabbing pain shot through my temple. I frowned, turning just as a heavy decorative sculpture crashed into my head, instantly leaving it bloody. I clutched my forehead, seeing through the blood the twisted face of Kyle Anderson. The moment they saw me injured, the two household staff beside me panicked. “Mr. Carter is an honored guest invited by Damien Foster himself. Who are you?” Kyle ground his teeth. “Let’s see who dares touch me. I’m Riley Foster’s fiancé!” “You bastard, how dare you seduce Riley! You even followed her home!” His friends all looked at me with contempt. “Look at this pathetic loser. How could he even compare to Kyle?” “Anyone with working eyes knows who to choose.” “Sneaky bastard. We’re going to teach you a good lesson today.” They tore me down with every word. I frowned, my voice cold. “I’m not here to latch onto anyone. Stop spouting nonsense.” I turned to leave, but Kyle’s heavy fist slammed into my face. “Shameless trash! Don’t think I haven’t noticed you hovering around Riley all the time.” “You probably spend every day trying to get her attention, don’t you?” He lunged forward, his index finger nearly poking my face, his voice vicious. I suddenly remembered Riley Foster. To get me to speak those golden words for the Foster family, she came to see me every day, all smiles and sweet concern. I never expected Kyle Anderson to be her fiancé. The servants around me quickly reacted, surrounding me protectively and carefully trying to stop my bleeding. My voice was ice-cold. “Damien invited me here to help. I have nothing to do with your fiancée.” One of the staff members carefully spoke up for me. “Mr. Carter has the ability to make his words come true.” At those words, Kyle doubled over with laughter, laughing so hard tears came out. “You say your words come true? Then I guess I’m God himself.” “You’ve said so much–I don’t see anything coming true.” I sighed inwardly. Though I had the ability to make my words come true, it only worked effectively once a year. I wouldn’t use this ability lightly. Kyle sneered, hands in his pockets. “Do I look like some idiot who’d believe that?” “You dare to be a homewrecker with me, Kyle Anderson? I’ll make you pay.” His eyes fixed on me like a poisonous snake. The people around him stepped forward, looking at me mockingly. He was coming for me. I stepped back, my voice hoarse. “If you touch me, the Foster family won’t let you get away with this.” Kyle was the first to rush forward, grabbing my hair and slamming my head hard against the ground. “Little bastard, you really dare to talk.” “Brothers, get him! Teach this homewrecker a good lesson!”

I frowned as blood dripped from my forehead. I was truly angry now, looking at Kyle with cold eyes. “I’m a guest of the Foster family. What are you?” “Leave now, and I can pretend nothing happened.” Though he’d have some bad luck for a while. Seeing me completely dismiss him, Kyle finally lost control. His eyes bloodshot, he lunged at me, straddling me and beating me viciously. I was pinned to the ground with no strength to fight back. But as he came close, I opened my mouth and bit down hard on his ear. Kyle clutched his ear, glaring at me. His friends rushed over, pinning me firmly to the ground, each one punching me. My scalp burned with tearing pain as they yanked me backward, making me fall face-up onto the gravel path. I groaned. In front of me, pairs of men’s dress shoes formed an impenetrable circle. When a shoe tip kicked my ribs, I heard the fine crackling of bone. The first punch left my right ear ringing. “This is what you get for being a homewrecker! Shameless!” The second blow left my left cheek burning and swollen. “Trash! I hate people like you who mess with other people’s relationships! Disgusting!” By the third kick, I could taste rust in my mouth. “People like you don’t deserve to live in this world.” They took turns grabbing my collar and yanking it back, the fabric mixing with blood and sticking to my swollen cheek. Fists deliberately smashed into my eye corners, warm blood droplets rolling into my collar. They struck viciously. The two household staff nearby were terrified. I looked at them. “Call Damien now!” I gasped for breath, coldly warning Kyle. “Let me go right now, or I swear I’ll make you pay.” Kyle sneered, kicking me again and again. “You really think I don’t know anything?” “You’re just an ordinary person! Your words coming true? Bullshit!” “You just wanted to seduce Riley when I wasn’t paying attention. I’ve already seen through your plan.” He kicked my ribs with his shoe tip. As I curled up, my forehead hit the concrete edge, blood immediately covering my right eye. Finally, he grabbed the back of my neck and slammed it against the coffee table edge. The instant ceramic shards cut open my chin, blood dripped onto the floor. He sneered and kicked me hard in the abdomen. “Bastard!” I clutched my stomach, curling into a ball. “What are you doing?!” The butler finally emerged from the kitchen with a fruit platter. Seeing my wretched state, her pupils constricted sharply. She hurried over to help me up. “Mr. Carter is Damien’s honored guest! Damien specifically instructed us to treat him well!” “Who dared lay hands on Mr. Carter?” She turned around, meeting Kyle’s eyes. Kyle chuckled. “It was me.” “Kyle, what are you doing here?” Kyle looked at her, his voice cold. “What honored guest? He’s just an ordinary person.” “Let me tell you, I’m going to marry Riley Foster in the future.” The butler glanced at Kyle, then at me. Finally, she reluctantly let go of my hand. I couldn’t stand at all and fell back onto the ground. Kyle sneered, looking smug. “What ability to make words come true? I think it’s all a scam!” “Tell me, do his words really come true or not?” The butler’s eyes darted around before she walked over to Kyle. “Who knows if these supernatural abilities are real or fake?” My heart seized.

Kyle was very pleased with the butler’s flattery. I was bleeding all over, with no strength left to resist. I could barely breathe, let alone speak. Kyle grabbed my chin, his gaze falling on the watch on my wrist. Before I could cover the watch, he reached out and yanked it off my wrist. “Give it back!” My voice was shrill, completely ignoring the bloody marks torn on my wrist. This watch was the only thing my late mother left me. I clenched my back teeth. “Give it back!” I tried to get up and snatch the watch back. But the two people holding me beat me again. Kyle waved the watch in front of me. “This watch is so important to you?” “I can give it back. How about you kneel before me and beg?” “If I’m happy, I’ll return it.” My eyes turned blood-red, fists clenched tight, looking at him with pure hatred. Kyle looked indifferent, holding the watch with disgust. “Looks like you don’t care about this watch that much.” “In that case…” He held up the watch, about to throw it away. I released my broken, bleeding lips. “I’ll kneel!” After those words, all my strength seemed drained. He bent down, patting my face. “Didn’t expect you to be so sensible.” “If you’re going to kneel, do it quickly. Time waits for no one.” I looked at the watch in his hand, closed my eyes, and knelt down. Once I got my watch back, I would make him pay. I knelt on the ground, staring at him. “Give it back.” Kyle looked extremely smug. “You think I’ll give it back just because you ask?” “Let me tell you, this is what you get for trying to climb above your station.” With that, he threw the watch on the ground and immediately stomped on it hard. I watched helplessly as the watch face shattered into pieces, powerless to stop it. My voice was hoarse. “I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!” Getting up from the ground, I rushed forward and grabbed his neck. “Crazy! He’s crazy!” Soon, I was dragged away by his people. I was filled with hatred, grinding my teeth. “Kyle Anderson, I won’t let you get away with this.” As soon as I spoke, they all burst into laughter. Kyle laughed so hard he nearly doubled over. “This is hilarious! Did I hear that right? You, an ordinary person, won’t let me get away with it?” “Oh, I’m so scared. I’d love to see how you won’t let me get away with it.” “Looks like you haven’t learned your lesson. In that case, teach him another good lesson.” A group of people rushed at me again. This time, I didn’t resist at all, just quietly curled up on the ground, letting their fists rain down on me. “Hahaha, look at him! Is he beaten stupid? He doesn’t even know how to fight back!” Kyle laughed until tears came out. I looked at the blood pooling on the ground, a smile curving my lips.

Seeing me smile, Kyle flew into a rage, roaring, “You bastard, what are you smiling at?” “Believe it or not, I’ll make sure you never smile again in your life!” My voice was soft, carrying a hint of chill, as I looked at him. “You’re about to be disfigured.” Hearing my words, Kyle’s eyes widened. His face turned darker than the bottom of a pot. “You bastard, how dare you curse me!” “I won’t let you get away with this.” He rolled up his sleeves, walking toward me. But in the next second, he fell to the ground. “Ah!” He screamed, hand clutching his face. “Kyle, your face!” His friends couldn’t help but speak up. Kyle pulled out his phone to look, screaming even louder. He covered the bleeding side of his face, glaring at me. My gaze fell on the broken glass that suddenly appeared on the ground, lips curving slightly. Kyle was furious. He rushed at me. “You crow’s mouth! Who told you to curse me!” “Since you have such a foul mouth, I’ll make sure you can never speak again.” My nails dug into my palms, voice hoarse. “You wouldn’t dare!” He raised an eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t I dare? I’m going to marry Riley in the future. You’re a powerless nobody. Why wouldn’t I dare touch you!” He signaled to the people around him. I was immediately restrained. He pulled a switchblade from his bag, walking toward me step by step. “Today, I’ll teach you a lesson about running that mouth of yours.” “Even if you stab through my throat, I’ll recover.” As those words left my mouth, a golden light flashed in my pupils. But it was too fast–no one noticed. He moved quickly, the blade aiming straight for my throat. The pain made my whole body struggle, but I couldn’t make a sound. Seeing me like this, Kyle was extremely pleased. “This is what trash deserves.” Tears streamed down my cheeks uncontrollably. The pain in my throat made cold sweat pour from my body. My vision darkened. I felt like I couldn’t hold on much longer. The butler ran over to Kyle. “This is exactly how to deal with shameless people like him.” “Men like this who interfere with other people’s engagements deserve to be punished.” I bit my tongue, the metallic taste keeping me conscious. Kyle dusted off his hands, raising an eyebrow. “Right, such a disgusting man should have his legs broken. Let’s take him to the garage and teach him a proper lesson.” He looked at me like trash, disgust in his eyes. “Grab him.” As soon as he spoke, a voice came from behind. “Who are you people, and what are you doing at my Foster family’s doorstep?” “Adrian!” I heard Damien’s voice.

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The night my parents were kidnapped, my sister Bethany—a police officer—insisted on going bungee jumping with our adopted brother, Blake. I didn’t stop her. Instead, I called the police and prepared the ransom myself. In my previous life, Bethany had skipped the trip with Blake to rescue our parents. But during his bungee jump, Blake’s cord snapped. He plunged into the ravine, and they never even recovered his body. On my birthday, Bethany drugged me and dragged me to that same cliff. “You orchestrated the kidnapping! You’d go this far just to compete for their love—you’re a monster!” “Blake is dead. You don’t deserve to live either!” When I opened my eyes again, I’d returned to the day my parents were kidnapped. This time, Bethany didn’t launch a rescue. She rushed to Blake’s side instead. Later, she nearly went insane with regret. 1 I jolted awake, my forehead drenched in sweat. My heart hammered violently. The terror of freefall still clung to me as I took in my familiar bedroom. I checked the time. I’d been reborn. I was back before it all began—the day my parents were kidnapped. In five minutes, the kidnappers would call, demanding we prepare the ransom within an hour or they’d kill their hostages. My name is Micah Bennett. I’m the son the Bennett family lost eighteen years ago. I’d been back with my parents for less than a year, but they were my everything. No matter what, I couldn’t let the tragedy from my previous life happen again. I rushed downstairs and stationed myself by the phone. Bethany followed close behind. “Micah, who are you putting on this performance for? Mom and Dad aren’t even home.” “Or did ‘you’ kidnap them?” A mocking smile played on Bethany’s lips. In that moment, I knew for certain—she’d been reborn too. Her expression seemed to say: Don’t bother struggling. It’s useless. Without her parents to play along, this charade would end even sooner. In my previous life, Bethany had been convinced I’d orchestrated the kidnapping to compete for our parents’ attention and validation, to make them notice me. I had no idea where she’d gotten such an absurd conclusion. In this new life, Bethany decided to simply ignore my “trap.” “Micah, don’t say I didn’t warn you—conspiracy to commit a crime is still a crime.” “Don’t come crying to me when you end up behind bars.” I wanted to respond, but the shrill ring of the phone cut me off. Each ring pierced my heart. Bethany acted as if she heard nothing. Before leaving, a flash of contempt crossed her face. “Do whatever you want. I’m going bungee jumping with Blake.” “They won’t actually get hurt anyway. Don’t bother me unless it’s important.” That wasn’t what she’d said in my previous life. Back then, Bethany had used her years of investigative experience to quickly locate the kidnappers’ hideout. Within just one hour, she’d brought our parents home safely. That day, my mind had been entirely consumed with worry for my traumatized parents. I hadn’t noticed the suspicion and rage hidden in Bethany’s eyes. I only found out later, when I was dragged to that cliff. During the rescue operation, Blake had called Bethany countless times. When she didn’t answer, he went bungee jumping alone—and the accident happened. Now, the phone rang like a death knell, filling me with dread. I answered. The kidnapper’s voice came through clearly. “Twenty million. You have two hours to get it ready, or your parents are dead.” My eyes widened in horror. What? In my previous life, they’d only demanded ten million! 2 I gripped the receiver tightly, cold sweat pouring down my face. It seemed the reality of this life differed slightly from the last. The kidnappers’ location might have changed too. My initial confidence suddenly turned to panic. I begged through tears. “Can you give me more time? I—” They hung up. I immediately reined in my emotions. I knew showing weakness to these criminals was pointless. The priority was preparing the ransom and confirming their location. My hand rapidly scribbled information on paper—everything I knew from my previous life. There were two kidnappers, both young men. The location was one of their homes. The ransom was ten million, to be deposited in the third trash can at the south entrance of the train station. The kidnappers never got the chance to collect the money—Bethany raided their hideout before they could. Both the money and our parents were saved. Remembering this, I immediately grabbed my phone and dialed 91

I also contacted Dad’s close friend and company director, Quinn Parker, asking him to have finance prepare the cash urgently. Quinn sounded as panicked as I was on the phone. “Call the police, Micah. I’ll handle the money.” My heart finally settled a bit. Two minutes later, officers from the nearby precinct arrived. Bethany’s colleague and best friend, Nora Xu, walked in without a friendly expression. “Micah, Bethany just called me. Lucky I was in the neighborhood…” “Filing a false police report is illegal!” All my courage and hope collapsed in that instant. Bethany was convinced I was the mastermind behind the kidnapping, so she’d deliberately sent her best friend to respond. Her goal was to stop my “unreasonable tantrum.” Without police resources or expert investigators, how could I break through this situation? Unable to control my emotions, I crumpled the clues in my hand into a ball. Thinking of my parents being tortured by the kidnappers, I broke down crying. “Nora, I’m not lying. I’m an adult. I take responsibility for my actions.” “Please, I need police help. I need you to help me save my parents!” I sobbed uncontrollably, constantly checking the clock. Almost ten minutes had passed already. I didn’t have much time left. Nora leaned against the sofa, casually scrolling through her phone. She showed no sympathy for my tears. “They say kids who grew up outside the family are cunning. You think crying will get you sympathy?” “Bethany’s right—kids you didn’t raise from birth just aren’t the same. Their hearts aren’t in the right place.” “Blake is so much more sensible than you…” Blake was different from me. He’d been adopted by my parents as a child and grew up pampered. Bethany especially took care of him thoroughly. Even after both became adults, they still spent a lot of time together. The ticking of the clock pulled me back to reality. I forced down my roiling emotions and made myself calm down. “Nora.” I spoke her name seriously. “Since you responded to the call, you have an obligation to process my report…” Before I could finish, Nora’s mocking laughter cut me off. “Who are you trying to fool here?” “You think just because you’re back with the Bennetts you can control everything? You’re like an outsider in this house.” Her words plunged me into an icy abyss. “Bethany told me everything. Your parents don’t even love you that much. They constantly mix up your name with Blake’s.” “You’ve pulled all kinds of manipulative stunts to compete for their attention. You made things so difficult that Blake had to move out.” Nora munched from a fruit plate while putting me down. I knew these were ideas Bethany had fed her over time. In their eyes, I was just someone who schemed for attention. Standing before her again, how she viewed me didn’t matter at all. “What will it take for you to believe me? My parents are in serious danger right now.” “If we miss the golden window for rescue, can you handle that responsibility?” Nora’s hand paused. She stood up from the sofa. “Go ahead and report me then. Punks like you need to be taught a lesson…” Before she could finish, two uniformed officers appeared at the door. “Is Micah here? We received a report and came to process the case.” My legs nearly gave out. My parents were finally going to be saved! 3 As soon as Nora saw who’d arrived, she went over to shake hands. “We’re colleagues. I just came to check on Bethany’s brother.” Only then did I notice Nora was in civilian clothes. The next moment, she tried to slip out the door. The two officers stopped her. I stepped forward to report the situation. “Officers! My parents really were kidnapped. I have a recording!” The call I’d deliberately recorded on my phone finally came in handy. When the kidnapper’s voice played, Nora’s face went white. “But Bethany clearly said they were… actors…” “She said you staged the whole thing yourself.” I snorted coldly, too tired to waste words on her. I carefully unfolded the crumpled paper ball in my hand. Drawing on the somewhat blurred memory fragments from my previous life, I carefully recalled those tiny details. Rapidly organizing and piecing them together in my mind, I finally thought of a good cover story to provide the clues from my previous life. “Officers! I can provide information about the suspects. They appeared near my house before.” “The voice sounds very similar… They asked me for directions back then. I can’t be completely certain.” Soon a sketch artist and monitoring equipment were in place. I concentrated fully on describing the two kidnappers’ appearances. Cross-referencing with people who had criminal records, we quickly got results. They were two young men who’d previously been imprisoned for robbery. One of them had rented a house under his real name. The police immediately arranged a rescue operation. I sat on the sofa, but felt like I’d just been pulled from water. Cold sweat had soaked me through. Twenty minutes later, the officer waiting with me received a report. “I’m sorry, Micah. We didn’t find your parents at the scene.” “But we did find this.” The kidnappers’ house contained many surveillance photos—not just of my parents, but of me too. “They’ve been casing the place for a long time. Don’t worry, these two won’t get away.” My brain felt ready to explode. The thing I feared most had happened after all. The kidnappers had changed where they were holding the hostages. That meant all my clues were useless. Nora was making a phone call to Bethany nearby. Even though she tried to keep her voice down, I heard every word clearly. “It really is a kidnapping. We already have suspects. You should come back…” Bethany actually laughed on the other end. What she said seemed deliberately meant for me to hear. “Give it up. The bigger the game you play, the harder you’ll fall…” “When Mom and Dad lose face and disown you, don’t come crying…” The fear and resentment from my previous life surged up instantly. Even if she hated me, this brother who’d only recently been found. At a time like this, she shouldn’t refuse to believe even other people’s words. I’d done nothing wrong. My parents had done nothing wrong either. The daughter they’d carefully loved for over twenty years was now ignoring their safety to accompany a non-blood-related brother. If my parents knew, I couldn’t imagine how heartbroken they’d be. I felt it wasn’t worth it for them. As I wiped the tears from my eyes, the landline at home suddenly rang loudly. The officer monitoring the call shot me a look. My heart rate spiked. The kidnappers were calling again! 4 The monitoring officer made a gesture at me. I picked up the receiver, my whole body trembling. The officer nearby held up a card to remind me. [Stall for time] I immediately took a breath. When I spoke, my voice still carried a sob. “I’m getting the money ready. Please, don’t hurt my parents.” The kidnapper laughed dismissively. “Then hurry up! You’ve got one hour left. I told you—time’s up and I’ll kill them!” The officer handed me another card. “Where do I deliver the money? And where do I pick up my parents after I pay?” The kidnapper’s tone showed clear impatience. “Put the money in a locker at the station. Don’t worry about your parents—once we get the money, they’ll be back with you immediately.” My temples throbbed. The drop-off location was different from my previous life too. I tried to keep talking so the monitoring team could trace the source. “Are my parents okay? Can I hear their voices?” The kidnapper cursed viciously. “So damn demanding.” Then I heard my parents’ helpless voices. “Micah, we found you again. We have no regrets in this life.” “Don’t risk yourself for us. Protect yourself.” “We love you more than you know, and we want to make it up to you. Sometimes we just don’t know how to express it…” Dad’s aged voice came through. “Son, I deeply regret losing you when you were little. If I get the chance, I’ll apologize to you in person…” My throat closed up so tightly I couldn’t form complete sentences. I wanted to say I didn’t need them to make anything up to me. I just needed them safe. Please wait patiently—I would definitely save them! The kidnapper cut off the conversation first. He seemed to kick someone, his language crude. “Shut up, old fool! Waste of space! Rich people are so damn dramatic!” “Get the money here fast, or I can’t guarantee your parents will come home in one piece.” He hung up. Everyone unconsciously looked at me, then shook their heads. They hadn’t traced the location. The kidnappers had used technology to block it. My anxiety and fear erupted again. Countless pieces of information jumbled chaotically in my brain. This money had to be delivered—at least it could guarantee my parents’ safety. I immediately grabbed my phone to call Quinn, who’d promised to help me gather the cash. But the call wouldn’t go through no matter how many times I tried. As I dialed that number for the Nth time, my phone rang first. Bethany’s laughter came through clearly. “Had enough of your performance yet? Time to end it.” I immediately became alert. “What did you tell Quinn?” Bethany laughed with complete openness. “Not to give you money, obviously. That’s twenty million. Even for a performance, no one would just hand it over.” “I told Quinn you’re just playing manipulative games. You want to drain the family assets the moment you return. He won’t help you.” In that moment, all my hope vanished completely. I deflated like a punctured balloon, losing all will to live. Without that twenty million, my parents had zero chance of survival. I’d seen the case report from my previous life. Those two men already had blood on their hands. They wouldn’t hesitate to add two more victims. Without the money, they really would kill the hostages! The phone rang again. The kidnapper’s agitated voice stabbed into my heart like a blade. “If you don’t get the money here now, I’ll kill them right this second!”

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The first thing I did after being reborn was break up with my girlfriend. Because in my past life, I got into a car accident trying to save her and became a vegetable. Three years later when I woke up, I discovered my girlfriend had a fiancé. “Marcus, let’s not bring up our past relationship anymore. That was just a childish joke from when we were young.” My parents had a new son. “Sweetheart, these past few years while you were gone, it’s been Thomas who’s been there for us the whole time.” I couldn’t accept it. I tried to sabotage Thomas and Lucy’s engagement party, but they threw me out. Right outside the venue, I was hit by a car and killed. The car was carrying the 999 roses Lucy had ordered for Thomas. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the moment I had just woken up. This time, looking at Lucy standing awkwardly by my hospital bed, I nodded. “I’ll agree to break up, but I want compensation!” 1. “What?” Lucy seemed confused and asked me again. I curved my lips slightly. “Three years ago, I saved you. Otherwise, you’d be the one lying here.” “Three years of my time, plus your life—name your price and pay me back!” Lucy was stunned for a long moment, then said flatly, “I know you resent me, but why debase yourself like this?” I laughed coldly. “Debase? What do you mean, debase?” “I saved you back then. Did you think you could just brush aside these three years so easily?” Lucy pressed her lips together, brazenly saying, “We were in love back then. You were good to me, and I remember all of it.” Looking at her act, I couldn’t help but laugh. What a piece of work! She just doesn’t want to pay. No matter how many times I relived this, she was still just as disgusting. In my past life, right after I woke up, Lucy told me about her love at first sight with Thomas. Back then, my memories were still stuck three years ago, when our relationship was at its sweetest. We had gone traveling together. Lucy wasn’t watching where she was going and was about to be hit by a car. Blinded by love, I pushed her out of the way and got hit myself, becoming a vegetable. Three years later, everything had changed. I couldn’t accept that I had risked my life for Lucy, yet during those three years, she had found someone new to love. I cried endlessly, threw tantrums endlessly, completely losing control like a madman. The result was that they grew more and more impatient with me. The day I was discharged from the hospital happened to be Lucy’s engagement day. I rushed straight to their engagement ceremony and caused a huge scene. Everyone thought I’d gone crazy, including my parents. They had security throw me out. As if fate was mocking me, right after leaving the venue, I was hit by a car and killed. Ironically, that car was carrying the 999 roses Lucy had ordered for Thomas. After my death, Lucy and Thomas had no more obstacles and lived happily together. And my parents acted as if they’d never had a son like me, doting on Thomas as if he were their own. This time, I no longer hoped for their attention. I wanted to live well for myself. But first, I needed to take back everything that belonged to me. “Lucy, spare me the talk about feelings. If you really had feelings for me, you wouldn’t have a new lover.” “Thirty million. That’s the price for your life. Not unreasonable, right?” “Or I could post this story online and let everyone judge whether I’m being unreasonable or whether Miss Lucy is ungrateful!” I said those last four words very slowly, successfully making Lucy’s face turn livid with anger. Three years ago, I was an outstanding young man who had earned a scholarship to a top university. Lucy could never repay me for those three years. Lucy thought she had me under her thumb, that I wouldn’t dare disobey her. That even if I was betrayed, I could only swallow my anger. But I was determined to tear off her mask. “Marcus, I know you can’t accept this right away, but don’t worry—we can still be best friends in the future. There’ll just be one more person to care about you.” “Thomas is a great guy. He and I will take good care of you from now on.” Lucy’s shamelessness left me speechless. Before I could respond, the hospital room door was pushed open. “Marcus, you’re finally awake!” Our eyes met, and Thomas’s eyes reddened with emotion. I had to admit, he was really good at acting. “Yeah. If I hadn’t woken up, my place would’ve been completely taken.” At my words, Thomas immediately explained, “No, I never wanted to compete with you for anything.” Still the same hypocritical routine. His behavior was truly beneath contempt. I curved my lips slightly and said coldly, “It’s fine. If you’ve taken it, you’ve taken it. I don’t care anyway.” “As long as Lucy gives me what I’m owed, I’ll give you both my blessing.” At these words, Thomas looked at me in disbelief. “You… how come… you’re not making a scene?” He said the last part very quietly. But because all my attention was on him, I still heard it. Realizing a certain possibility, I couldn’t help but smile. It seemed he had been reborn too. I pretended not to understand and asked, “Lucy said you two are about to get engaged. Would making a scene do any good?” I stared at Thomas without blinking. A flash of smugness crossed his face. Sure enough, this was different from my past life. 2. In my past life at this point, Thomas was still playing the victim. He would never have shown such an expression. It seemed things were getting interesting. “Marcus, you just woke up. Don’t overthink things. Even if you’re mad at me, you need to take care of your health first.” Lucy was the same as always—constantly expressing concern with her words, but when it came to actually paying money, she was reluctant. However, this time she wouldn’t have a choice. Unlike my past life, I had learned my lesson this time. No crying, no tantrums. Only surface-level blessings. So after three days in the hospital, I was taken back to the family estate to recuperate. My parents only showed up at the beginning to express concern, then went off to busy themselves with their own affairs. Over these past few days, I had become completely convinced that Thomas was reborn. However, this time, he was too impatient. As soon as my parents left, he invited Lucy and their friends over to the house for a party. He claimed it was to celebrate my awakening, but in reality… Everyone else was standing while I sat in a wheelchair. “Marcus hasn’t fully recovered yet, so everyone needs to take good care of him today.” Thomas, like a good friend, asked everyone to look after me. Seeing this, people’s eyes shifted between Lucy, Thomas, and me, all with expressions of watching a good show. And I had no intention of disappointing them. “Lucy, what I said to you that day—have you thought it over?” At my words, whispers rippled through the crowd. A flash of impatience crossed Lucy’s face. “Marcus, there’s a limit to throwing tantrums. With so many people here today, do you really want to make a spectacle of yourself?” I scoffed. “If anyone’s making a spectacle, it’s you.” “Three years ago, I saved you. Otherwise, you’d be the vegetable.” “Now you have a new lover, and I haven’t pestered you excessively. I’m only asking you to pay for this life. Is that too much?” “Thirty million for Miss Lucy’s life and three years of time. That’s not a lot.” The information was overwhelming, and everyone couldn’t help but gasp. “Marcus, how can you demand such a huge amount of compensation? That’s just unseemly,” Thomas looked at me with a pained expression. “If it were me, even losing my life for Lucy would be willing.” Looking at his hypocritical act, my eyes hurt. “Then you pay the thirty million for her. If you can give up your life, what’s a little money? Right?” Thomas was speechless, glaring at me viciously before putting on a wounded, wronged expression. “Marcus, I know you’re doing this to embarrass me. I couldn’t control my heart—Lucy and I fell in love. You can do whatever you want to me, but please don’t hurt Lucy, okay?” After saying this, Thomas’s face was already covered in tears. Anyone who didn’t know better would think I’d bullied him. In fact, that’s exactly what Lucy thought. She pulled him behind her, looking at me with disgust and saying bluntly, “Marcus, I’ve already made it very clear—I don’t love you anymore. Nothing you do will attract my attention.” I laughed scornfully. I didn’t understand where she got such confidence. “Lucy, stop being so full of yourself. I just want what I’m owed. Or are you saying that the noble Miss Lucy’s life is worth nothing?” “Even ordinary people know to repay kindness. Are you, Miss Lucy, trying to be ungrateful? Now that you have someone new, have you forgotten even the old debt of a life saved?” My voice was full of mockery. The guests began exchanging looks and whispering among themselves. “Poor Marcus—he saved Miss Lucy and got dumped for it.” “Thirty million really isn’t that much. Marcus is a decent person. If it were me, I’d have torn into this unfaithful couple long ago.” “I get the feeling Thomas isn’t a good person either. Just look at him.” … Lucy’s face turned livid. “Marcus, that’s enough!” 3. “You want money? Fine! I’ll give it to you. After this, we have no relationship whatsoever. Don’t you dare regret it.” I snorted coldly and immediately sent her my bank account information. “Then let everyone here witness this—transfer the money to me now!” I pressed forward step by step, and Lucy was furious. She immediately called her assistant to arrange the transfer. Unfortunately, she hadn’t inherited the family business yet and didn’t have that much money on hand. Looking at the ten million that appeared in my bank account, I laughed coldly again, unable to resist mocking her. “Can’t even come up with thirty million, yet you have the nerve to string along two guys at once. I truly look down on you.” “Stop spouting nonsense!” Thomas couldn’t hold back anymore, his face contorted as he pointed at me and cursed. “The doctor had already determined you wouldn’t wake up back then. Did you expect Lucy to give up her own life for you?” I shook my head, looking at Thomas with contempt. “Put away that twisted expression. It’s too ugly.” Thomas’s face froze, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. He looked so hideous it hurt to look at him. Lucy pulled him into her arms protectively, glaring at me angrily. “I’ll transfer the rest of the money tomorrow. After that, we have no relationship at all. Don’t you dare regret it.” I laughed scornfully and said without hesitation, “Whoever regrets it is the loser.” Applause broke out in the crowd. Our eyes met. Jennifer was clapping while looking at me with an expression between a smile and something else. Seeing her, I pressed my lips together and maneuvered my wheelchair to leave. But before I got far, Jennifer caught up. “Three years in a coma, and you finally grew a brain?” Hearing her teasing voice, I felt my eyes sting with tears. Jennifer—the eldest daughter of the Rivera family. Sharp-tongued since childhood, never one to back down in an argument. I had always thought she disliked me, but it wasn’t until my past life, when I died, that I learned the truth wasn’t like that at all. After my death, I discovered Jennifer was just someone with a sharp tongue but a soft heart—a fool. She used every means to take revenge on my parents and Lucy for me. Driving them into a corner wasn’t enough—on the anniversary of my death, she went mad and deliberately crashed into them, killing them all… Thinking of her painful expression at the end, my heart ached. “Yeah, after sleeping for three years, my brain should be fully developed.” I had wanted to chat with her casually, but by the end, I couldn’t help the sob in my voice. For all that lost time. Jennifer pressed her lips together and pushed my wheelchair forward. “Jennifer, do you need a husband?” Looking at tonight’s moonlight, I asked casually. “What do you think of me?” Jennifer looked at me seriously. “Are you serious?” “Don’t tell me in a couple days you’ll lose your mind and go back to Lucy.” Her tone carried not just pride, but also a hint of grievance. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Don’t worry. I won’t.” Early the next morning, looking at the marriage certificate in my hands, I was completely dazed. I didn’t expect Jennifer to be so eager. Last night after I spoke, she brought me straight home, and first thing this morning, she took me to city hall. “The marriage certificate is already signed. It’s too late for regrets.” Seeing me spacing out, Jennifer snatched the certificate from my hands. I smiled slightly and grinned at her. “I won’t regret it!” Before I could continue, my phone suddenly rang. “Marcus, wherever you are, get home right now!” It was my father’s call. From his tone, this wasn’t going to be pleasant. “What’s wrong?” “I took money from Lucy yesterday. My dad probably wants me to come home so he can give me hell.” “Then let’s go. I’d like to see who dares to make Mr. Rivera’s husband suffer.” As soon as I reached the living room entrance, I sensed an unusual atmosphere inside. The moment I entered, a cup shattered into pieces at my feet. 4. If Jennifer hadn’t pulled me back in time, it would have hit me. “You worthless son! You just woke up and you’re already causing trouble.” My father glared at me furiously. “You’re not good enough to keep Miss Lucy, so you actually dare to ask her for money?” “Does the Rivera family not feed you or give you drinks? How dare you humiliate yourself in front of so many people?” He spoke mercilessly. I glanced at Thomas looking smug beside him. I understood immediately. When he couldn’t handle it himself, he brought in the parents. If this were my past life, I definitely would have felt hurt by my father’s words. I might even have reflected on what I did wrong. But now, I wouldn’t. “I saved Lucy. Thirty million isn’t too much, is it?” “In other words, if it were you—thirty million for one extra life—wouldn’t you think that’s a great deal?” “You!” Unable to win the argument, he tried to hit me. Just as his palm was about to land on my face, Jennifer stepped forward and blocked me. My father’s hand stopped in mid-air. Seeing him both angry and trying to appease Jennifer, I said in a mocking tone, “Dad, Miss Rivera is even more precious than Lucy. If that slap lands, thirty million probably won’t be enough compensation.” My father reluctantly lowered his hand. Then he looked at Jennifer with a fawning expression. “Miss Rivera, how did you end up with Marcus? I’ve spoiled him since he was young—he’s arrogant and domineering. If he’s offended you in any way, feel free to hit or scold him as you please.” Ha! If I hadn’t done a paternity test, I would sometimes really doubt whether he was my biological father. A person who could abandon his own son at any moment didn’t deserve to be a father. “Marcus is my husband now. He’s not someone just anyone can bully.” For the first time, I found Jennifer’s sharp tongue so satisfying when used against enemies. “What?” Hearing Jennifer’s words, my father’s gaze shifted constantly between Jennifer and me. Thomas reacted even more strongly than my father. He couldn’t sit still anymore and jumped up from the sofa. “How could you marry Marcus? It shouldn’t be like this! How could someone like him be worthy of you?” Thomas looked completely shocked. After a long moment, he muttered to himself, “Miss Rivera, did Marcus seduce you? Don’t you know that three years ago he was desperately in love with Lucy? And now he’s asking for thirty million!” Thomas spared no effort in smearing my reputation. Not only did my father not object, he actually nodded in agreement. “Thomas is right. Marcus really isn’t worthy of you. You should separate from him quickly.” The two of them went back and forth, practically grinding me into the dust. And Jennifer’s lips curved in a faint smile the whole time. After they finished, Jennifer snorted coldly. “Mr. Williams, when did your eyes go blind? It seems I need to reconsider our cooperation with Williams Corporation.” My father’s expression froze, and he turned on me again. “Marcus, did you badmouth the Williams family to Miss Rivera? After all these years, I’ve been raising you for nothing. Three years ago, I shouldn’t have saved you. I should have let you die in that hospital room.” His eyes held undisguised malice. I couldn’t help but clench my fists, veins bulging. If I could stand, I really would want to slap him. Jennifer seemed to know what I was thinking. She slapped my father across the face. “Marcus and I are already married. He’s my husband now. Insulting him is slapping me in the face.” “What did you say? You’re married?” Lucy stormed in furiously, looking like a crazed lioness.

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I got put on blast online by a new intern who claimed the company was forcing employees to sacrifice their time off for mandatory team-building. No one wants to drag themselves to some island to hang out with coworkers. But what the internet didn’t know was that our company’s team-building tradition included: An annual takeover of a five-star resort, all expenses paid, plus-ones welcome, with an additional three days of paid vacation and a per-person budget of $30,000. Social media was roasting me as a heartless boss, so I decided to give them exactly what they wanted and sent out an announcement: “In response to employee feedback and out of respect for personal time, this year’s travel-based team-building is canceled and replaced with a $500 personal travel stipend.” The announcement dropped like a bomb. Long-time employees mobbed my office, begging me to bring back the Caribbean sun and sand. I finalized this year’s team-building plan with Lisa, our Administrative Director. “Xavier, this is the one? A six-star island in the Maldives.” Lisa’s voice brimmed with excitement. I nodded with satisfaction. Years ago, in a cramped startup office barely 500 square feet, I’d made a promise to my team: “Someday, I’m taking all of you to the most beautiful places in the world for our victory celebration!” I’d carried that promise for years. I told Lisa: “Budget is $30,000 per person. Don’t you dare cut corners. Also, give every participant three extra days of paid vacation. It has to be paid!” Lisa closed her tablet with a smile. “Once this plan hits the company group chat, the whole place is going to explode.” Sure enough, after the announcement hit our 400-person company chat, it was instantly flooded with celebration emojis. Marcus from Tech posted a family photo: “Perfect! I promised my daughter we’d go see sea turtles last year. Now I can finally make it happen!” The newlyweds in Marketing were already discussing whether to turn it into their honeymoon. The entire company basked in holiday-like joy. I watched the endless stream of thank-you messages scrolling across my phone screen, feeling deeply satisfied. Then some discordant notes jarred their way in. From the new intern, Dylan Sanders. He posted a link to some influencer’s video ranting about pointless team-building, then added casually: “Wait, seriously? Companies still do mandatory travel in this day and age? I’d rather just stay home.” The lively chat froze instantly. David, a department head, immediately jumped in to smooth things over: “Dylan just got here and doesn’t understand yet. Our company’s team-building is a premium benefit. You’d be crazy to skip it.” Another colleague chimed in: “Exactly. Some people would kill for this opportunity.” Dylan immediately replied with an eye-roll emoji: “Pass. Not interested. Don’t want to waste my life pretending to bond with coworkers I barely know.” “If the boss really has this kind of money, why not just convert the team-building budget to cash? That’d be way more practical.” His words killed the conversation dead. Several employees who’d been celebrating enthusiastically just moments ago quietly deleted their messages. I even noticed a few anonymous profiles had briefly liked Dylan’s comment, then hastily unliked it within seconds. That afternoon, someone knocked on my office door. Dylan. He wore ripped jeans and carried a drink, showing absolutely no nervousness about facing the CEO. His silver-gray hair caught the light in a way that felt almost aggressive. “Xavier, got a minute?” He jutted his chin forward and plopped himself onto the couch across from me without waiting for an answer, even crossing his legs. “I think this whole company team-building thing is totally outdated. Young people nowadays believe in keeping work and life separate. You spend all this money forcing us together where we have to fake-smile at each other. It’s exhausting.” He looked at me matter-of-factly, fingers absently playing with the headphones hanging around his neck. “It’s emotional labor, you know? Why not just give us the cash directly? Win-win for everyone.” I watched his expression—like he was here to teach me about management—and found it both absurd and almost funny. “The company’s team-building is an honor trip for outstanding employees. It’s collective recognition, not some benefit you can haggle over like you’re at a flea market.” Dylan pursed his lips. “Fine, whatever. Pretend I said nothing.” He stood up and left, muttering under his breath, “So condescending. What a drag.” Near the end of the workday, I saw veteran employee Ryan bringing several younger employees over to Dylan’s workstation. Ryan was all smiles: “Dylan, we totally support your idea! You said what we were all thinking! Don’t worry, we’ve got your back if anything happens!” Dylan raised an eyebrow smugly and lowered his voice: “Don’t worry, Ryan. Watch me work.” Then I saw Dylan pull out his phone and snap a photo of his computer screen. He turned the camera on himself, his face instantly switching to an expression of utter misery, complete with a gray filter. His lips moved silently, mouthing “Help me!” My heart sank.

When I got home from work, a video notification suddenly popped up. The title was written in inflammatory fonts: “Making minimum wage and being forced by my boss to attend a $30,000-per-person team-building trip—would you want this ‘blessing’?” The thumbnail showed Dylan’s face, written all over with forced compliance. My heart dropped. I clicked on the video. It opened with promotional footage of the six-star Maldives hotel, except it was edited into depressing black-and-white with sad music. Text appeared: “The boss’s promise looks pretty good, right?” The scene cut to Dylan’s workstation, zooming in on an ordinary spreadsheet. More text followed: “Too bad I’m just a working person who wants to go home after work.” Then came a close-up of him looking tearful, with text reading: “Being told I have to sacrifice my precious personal weekends to participate in mandatory social performance—thanks but no thanks.” He’d cleverly twisted “additional paid vacation” into “sacrificing weekends.” Finally, he addressed the camera directly: “I don’t want your Maldives. I just want to sleep in on weekends. Whoever wants this ‘blessing’ can have it.” The comment section predictably exploded. “This is how young people should be! Drop the company name and we’ll blast them for you!” “I hate bosses like this—so self-congratulatory! Get it through your head: my job is just to work. I have no obligation to attend team-building.” “You said it! Who wants team-building when you’re socially anxious? Give me back my rest time!” I was shaking with anger. Three days of paid vacation became “sacrificing precious weekends.” A $30,000 premium reward trip became “kidnapping.” The next morning, the office atmosphere felt wrong. Several employees gathered around Dylan, saying “you’re so bold” with their mouths while their faces showed the excitement of watching drama unfold. Veteran employee Ryan went even further, directly bringing Dylan into my office. Ryan opened with fake concern the moment he entered. “Xavier, don’t be angry. Dylan’s approach was extreme, sure, but he really did voice what a lot of young people are thinking. Why don’t you just go with popular opinion?” Dylan stood beside him with his arms crossed, looking completely fearless. He waved his phone: “Xavier, see that? This is what people want. It’s the trend of the times.” I said flatly: “The company’s traditions and policies won’t change because of anyone’s unreasonable tantrum.” Dylan snorted. “Tradition? Traditions exist to be broken. If you don’t figure out how to satisfy everyone, I can’t guarantee this won’t hit national trending topics tomorrow.” As soon as he finished speaking, my assistant rushed in, face pale. “Xavier, we have a problem. Dylan’s video has gone viral!” I refreshed my phone. Sure enough. What chilled me even more were several anonymous comments under the video, with locations showing they were from inside our office building. “Tell me about it. They call it a luxury trip, but last year’s hotel was smaller than my bathroom.” “Benefits? Yeah right. They say $30,000 budget, but that dump was worth maybe $300 if we’re lucky.” These lies made my head spin. They wanted the company’s luxury benefits while also pushing the risk onto the intern, fantasizing that if things got big enough, they could convert the trip into cash. This refined, greedy self-interest pierced through years of my goodwill. Looking at these two smug people in front of me, I suddenly felt it was all pointless. I loosened my top collar button, my Adam’s apple moving as if suppressing some emotion. Dylan remained oblivious, still tilting his head scrolling through his phone, his heel tapping the floor as he spun slightly in the chair—the posture of a victor.

Overnight, my company went from being everyone’s dream workplace to being universally condemned online as a “sweatshop.” The company name and my photo were all dug up. Abusive messages and harassing calls flooded my phone, making it vibrate violently on my desk. “Cold-blooded exploiter, hope your company goes bankrupt tomorrow!” “Trash company exploiting workers—already reported to the Labor Department!” The PR manager, sporting heavy dark circles under his eyes, handed me an emergency PR plan. His voice was hoarse: “Xavier, we need to make a statement now! Draft an official response immediately and get all the facts out there!” I rubbed my aching temples and looked at him. “If we make a statement now, in the eyes of the internet, we won’t be calmly explaining—we’ll be defensively justifying and showing off our wealth. It’ll only trigger more outrage.” The manager froze, mouth open, unable to speak. When emotional floods drown out reason, no amount of facts can make a ripple. I was wrong. I thought that treating people sincerely would always find believers. But as I refreshed that trending video, a new anonymous comment, boosted by countless likes, rose to the top position. The familiar tone made me almost certain this also came from inside the company. “Stop defending them. I’m an internal employee of this company. The so-called paid vacation actually has to be exchanged for our own precious annual leave! If you don’t agree, your supervisor will find fault with your work. We’re all afraid to speak up!” I stared at that comment, my head buzzing. Not with anger—with a bone-deep exhaustion and disgust. I could even imagine who typed those words. Maybe it was that veteran employee who’d thanked me just last week. This comment, like a boulder, completely crushed the last shred of hope in my heart. It used more vicious lies to poison even the company’s only gesture of goodwill into conspiracy. Below it, countless self-proclaimed “internal employees” piled on. My mind flashed back to when the company first turned a profit and everyone celebrated at a simple gathering. Back then, everyone’s smiles were genuine. I asked myself—in terms of benefits and compensation, I’d never shortchanged anyone who fought alongside me. But in the end, this is what I got—betrayal from everyone. They comfortably enjoyed my generosity while unhesitatingly stabbing me in the back for the vague promise of “cash benefits.” Turned out the team culture I’d worked so hard to build was just a joke of self-congratulation. The PR manager was still anxiously urging me: “Xavier, if we don’t speak up, our partners and investors are going to be overwhelmed with calls!” I wearily waved my hand and pushed the plan aside. “No need.” My voice was frighteningly calm. “Prepare a new announcement instead.” I stood up and walked to the massive floor-to-ceiling window. Below, several media interview vans had already parked. I laughed at myself. I didn’t lose to Dylan Sanders. I lost to my own ridiculous trust. From today forward, I, Xavier, would only be a businessman. Businessmen only discuss interests, not feelings. I picked up my phone and dialed my assistant’s extension. “Notify all staff. Tomorrow morning at 9 AM sharp, everyone reports to the main conference room to discuss the final optimization plan for this year’s team-building.” On the other end, my assistant’s voice hesitated: “Xavier, are we… giving in to them?” “No.” I looked at the media lying in wait outside, speaking each word deliberately: “It’s time to make them personally pay for their own greed.”

The next morning, the company’s main conference room was packed. The air buzzed with barely suppressed excitement and anticipation. This didn’t feel like a crisis management meeting—it felt like a loot distribution ceremony. Dylan and Ryan sat in the front row, surrounded by a cluster of young colleagues. Ryan was talking animatedly, spittle flying: “I told you, Xavier backs down when pushed! As long as we unite and make enough noise, he’ll definitely cave!” Dylan looked even more pleased, even secretly starting a live stream on his phone. The stream title was especially provocative: “Guys, witness young people reforming the workplace! Watch us take back our benefits from the boss!” At exactly 9 AM, I walked into the conference room on time. Every eye instantly locked onto me—gloating, spectating, anticipating. I walked to the front and bowed deeply. “I’m sorry.” The room erupted in chaos, then burst into enthusiastic applause. Dylan’s live stream instantly filled with comments: “The boss apologized!” “Way to go, young people!” I straightened up and surveyed the smug faces below. “Because of my personal stubbornness and outdated thinking, I ignored everyone’s emphasis on personal time and caused tremendous trouble for all of you. I sincerely apologize here.” The applause grew even more enthusiastic. Ryan even stood up to lead a cheer: “Good on you for admitting your mistake!” Dylan smugly pointed his live stream camera at me like I was his trophy. I waited for the applause to gradually fade, then shifted tone. “To completely return freedom and choice to everyone, after careful consideration all night, I’ve decided to make a revolutionary adjustment to this year’s team-building plan.” Everyone held their breath, eyes filled with greedy anticipation. I looked at them and announced my decision word by word. “First, effective immediately, the company will completely cancel the collective travel team-building tradition that has continued since our founding.” The conference room instantly erupted in cheers. I ignored their reaction and continued with the second decision. “Second, to compensate everyone and support your independent travel, the company will instead distribute a $500 personal travel stipend to each current employee.” “This expresses our highest respect for freedom!” As my words fell, the room went dead silent. Dylan’s live-streaming phone clattered to the floor, screen shattering. From a $30,000-per-person luxury Maldives trip to a $500 stipend—a cliff-drop change. The massive gap completely crashed their brains. I added expressionlessly: “This is the precious freedom you fought so hard for, even at the cost of damaging the company’s reputation. Now, you’re free.” I connected my phone to the projector. On screen appeared the real-time stock price chart of our parent company—a cliff-diving green line, shocking to behold. Beside it were pop-ups from major financial news outlets. “Affected by mandatory team-building controversy, company culture questioned, stock price plummets 15% at opening!” Everyone’s expressions rapidly shifted from shock and disbelief to undisguised panic and despair. Their rice bowls were about to be smashed by their own hands. Dylan was the first to jump up, voice shrill and piercing. “Wasn’t the team-building budget $30,000? Why did the travel stipend become $500? That’s so unfair!” I looked at him coldly. “You used public opinion to threaten the company’s survival, causing the stock price to crash and the company to face financial strain. This is the consequence of your foolish actions.” My gaze swept across every panicked face below. “Half a day and tens of millions in market value evaporated. The Board of Directors demands that I eliminate the virus that triggered this crisis within 24 hours. Otherwise, to cut costs and stabilize stock prices, the company will immediately implement a 30% layoff plan.” I paused, watching their ashen faces. “Now, tell me—who is that virus?”

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The day my son was taken by human traffickers, I ran after them like a madwoman. I never expected the kidnapper to strike the back of my head so hard that my mental capacity regressed to that of a toddler. From then on, I—once an outstanding university professor—became a crazy woman everyone pointed and whispered about. I wandered off many times, but my husband always searched the world over to find me and hold me tight. My son knelt before me in remorse: “Mom became this way because of me.” “Don’t be scared, Mom. I’ll protect you.” My husband turned down social engagements to teach me how to read, day and night: “You’re the soul of this family! With you here, this house feels like a home.” My in-laws spent their life savings trying to cure my brain, even kneeling before relatives to beg for money. I thought I would slowly return to normal. But when I finally managed to write my name in shaky, crooked letters, I accidentally overheard their cries: “She’s not even human anymore… It would have been better if she’d just died back then.” That evening at dusk, I swallowed an entire bottle of pills alone. The pills were bitter. I touched the family photo and didn’t cry.

I wanted to make my son his favorite pan-seared steak. In my memories, Lucas loved the steaks I made. I took the rock-hard frozen meat from the refrigerator and, imitating what my husband Derek always did, held it under the running faucet. The ice-cold water splashed onto my face, and I giggled. Cooking. Making food for Lucas. The olive oil bottle was too high up. I stood on my tiptoes to reach it. Crash! The brown glass bottle shattered on the floor, breaking into countless pieces. Olive oil mixed with blood flowed from my palm. It hurt. But I couldn’t cry. Lucas didn’t like it when I cried. I carefully used my other hand to pick up the glass shards from the floor, wanting to hide them. The blood kept flowing, dripping onto the white kitchen tiles like blooming flowers. The meat still hadn’t gone into the pan. I grabbed the half-thawed meat, mixed with the blood and soy sauce from my hand, and stuffed it into the cold pan. I forgot to turn on the stove. I only knew I had to put the meat in. “Emma!” My husband Derek’s voice was filled with panic. He was home early today. He rushed over, snatched the raw meat from my hands, and when he saw my blood-covered hands, his eyes instantly turned red. “What were you messing with now! What happened to your hand!” His voice was loud, and I shrunk back in fear. But he didn’t yell at me again. Instead, he pulled me to the sink and carefully rinsed my wound with warm water. His movements were gentle. “It’s not your fault. I didn’t put the olive oil in a safe place.” He bandaged my hand while softly coaxing me. Finally, he placed a Band-Aid with a little red flower printed on it in my palm. “Our Emma is such a good girl. Here’s a little flower as your reward.” I looked at the little red flower in my palm and smiled foolishly. The pain seemed to really fly away. Just then, the door opened. My son Lucas walked in with a beautiful girl. It was Megan, Lucas’s girlfriend. She saw me—saw the blood and oil stains on my apron, and my hand raised to show him the Band-Aid with the little flower. She instinctively stepped back half a step. Lucas’s face darkened instantly. He strode over, picked up the raw meat I hadn’t put in the pan from the trash can, and threw it back in hard. “Who told you to come into the kitchen! Can’t you just stay put!” His voice was a hundred times louder than Derek’s had been, making my ears ring. I was terrified and hid behind Derek, clutching the corner of his shirt tightly. I didn’t understand. I wanted to cook for Lucas. Why was that wrong? At the dinner table, the atmosphere was suffocatingly tense. Derek had made many dishes, but I didn’t dare eat a single bite. I saw that Megan’s plate was empty. I wanted to serve her food, like I used to. I clumsily grabbed a rib with my hand and reached toward her bowl. Smack! Lucas slapped the back of my hand, and the rib fell onto the table. “You’re so filthy!” he growled, his face flushed red.

“Lucas! Is that how you talk to your mother!” Derek slammed his hand on the table and stood up. “Dad! Look at what she’s become! In front of Megan—how am I supposed to face anyone!” Megan’s face went pale too: “Mr. Thompson, Lucas, I’m full. I should go.” That night, I couldn’t sleep. I heard Lucas’s hushed voice coming from the balcony. “Megan, I’m sorry, my mom didn’t mean to…” “Please don’t be mad. I promise it won’t happen again…” His tone was humble, like dust on the ground. I buried my head in my blanket, and tears flowed silently. The next day, Lucas’s eyes were swollen. He blocked my doorway, warning me with an expression of seriousness I had never seen before. “Mom, Megan’s parents are coming over today to discuss our engagement.” “You are not to leave this room all day.” “Did you hear me?” I looked at him and nodded, half understanding. He seemed unsure, so he found a lock and locked my door from the outside. “Be a good girl.” I hugged my worn stuffed doll with threads coming loose at the armpit, curled up in the corner of my bedroom, and said to myself. Soon, laughter and cheerful voices came from the living room. I heard words like “wedding” and “ring.” I didn’t understand them, but I knew these things would make my Lucas happy. As long as Lucas was happy, I was happy. The sun slowly moved across the sky, and my stomach started growling. I needed to use the bathroom. I ran to the door and pounded on it. “Bathroom… need bathroom…” The laughter and conversation in the living room were too loud, drowning out my voice. No one heard me. My lower belly grew more and more swollen, more and more painful. I pressed my legs together and paced anxiously around the room, like a trapped ant. “Open door… please… bathroom…” My voice took on a crying tone. But the people outside seemed to be making a toast. The voices got even louder. I couldn’t hold it anymore. A warm liquid flowed down my thighs, soaking my pants and pooling at my feet. The smell of urine instantly filled the entire room. I stared at the puddle on the floor, frozen. Then I burst into tears, sitting on the ground and wailing like a real three-year-old child. My crying finally alarmed the people outside. The laughter in the living room stopped abruptly. The sound of a key turning in the lock, and the door was yanked open. Lucas, Derek, two middle-aged strangers, and a pale-faced Megan all stood at the doorway. They saw the room reeking of urine, and me—sitting on the ground, soaked through, utterly pathetic. Megan’s mother’s expression changed on the spot. She pointed at me and shrieked at Lucas: “This is what you call ‘getting better’? This is a bottomless pit!” “Let me tell you, I do not approve of this marriage! I will never let my daughter jump into this kind of hellhole!” Lucas’s face turned red, then white. He tried to explain: “Mrs. Carter, my mom will get better. The doctor said…” “The doctor said? You believe whatever the doctor says?” Megan’s father sneered. “With a burden like this, your whole life is ruined! Don’t even think about dragging our Megan down with you!” Megan was crying. She held onto her parents’ hands, apologizing over and over. Before leaving, she looked back at Lucas. In her eyes was despair and finality. The door slammed shut. Dead silence in the living room. Lucas collapsed onto the sofa as if all his strength had been drained. He buried his head in his hands, his fingernails digging deep into his scalp, his shoulders shaking violently. I timidly walked out of the room and stood in front of him. I pulled a piece of candy from my pocket—candy I had hidden for a long time, too precious to eat myself. I wanted to make him happy. “Lucas… candy… sweet…”

Lucas jerked his head up, his bloodshot eyes fixed on me. He swung his arm violently. “Get away from me!” He shoved me to the ground. The back of my head hit the corner of the coffee table. It hurt so much. The candy flew out of my hand, rolled into the corner, and landed in the puddle of my urine. Dirty. My candy was dirty. When Derek came home, this was what he saw. A silent son, and me, trembling behind the sofa. He quietly cleaned up the mess on the floor, wiped away those shameful traces. Then he sat down next to Lucas, his voice exhausted. “Lucas, you can’t treat your mother like this.” “She… she can’t control herself.” Those words were like lighting a fuse. Lucas shot to his feet, roaring with bloodshot eyes. “Can’t control herself? How much longer do I have to put up with this!” “Do you have any idea what my life has been like? Since I was little, everyone laughed at me for being the crazy woman’s son!” “I applied for jobs, made it to the final round of interviews, and they cut me just because they found out about my mom!” “Now even the only woman I love is leaving me! All because of her! Because of her!” He pointed at me, his finger trembling with rage. Slap! A loud slap. Derek’s hand was shaking. His lips were shaking too. “Get out!” “You ungrateful bastard! That’s the mother who saved your life!” Lucas clutched his face, staring at his father in disbelief. He let out a cold laugh, turned, and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. The tremendous bang made me scream. I desperately crawled under the table, my mouth only able to repeat: “No fighting… no fighting…” That night, I didn’t sleep. I hugged my stuffed doll and sat in the darkness of the living room, waiting for Lucas to come home. Late at night, the door opened. Lucas stumbled in, reeking of alcohol. He swayed to the sofa and collapsed onto it. I hurried over, wanting to cover him with a blanket like Derek would. He suddenly started to retch. Without thinking, I instinctively held out my hands. Warm, sour-smelling vomit landed right in my palms. I was afraid of dirtying the carpet. Lucas would be angry. The sticky sensation made me uncomfortable, but I held it in and used my other sleeve to wipe his mouth. Maybe my movements woke him. Lucas opened his bleary eyes and saw me, saw my filthy hands. The alcohol and all his grievances rushed to his head. He suddenly broke down, crying like a child. He grabbed my shoulders and shook me hard. “Mom! You weren’t like this before! You weren’t!” “You were a university professor! You were the most elegant, most brilliant woman! How did you become like this!” He shook me until I was dizzy, but I couldn’t understand his pain. I only knew my baby was crying. I smiled foolishly and clumsily tried to wipe his tears with my somewhat cleaner sleeve. “Baby… don’t cry…” My voice, my smiling face, completely shattered his last bit of sanity. Lucas’s eyes went hollow. He shoved me away. He mumbled to himself: “Megan doesn’t want me anymore… It’s all because of you… It’s all your fault…” He stared into my eyes, each word like a knife stabbing into my heart. “If I’d known saving me would turn you into this, it would’ve been better to just let you die.” “If you were dead, I’d be free.” “Dad would be free too.” “Everyone would be free.” I froze. My brain was like mush, but I understood. Even though my mind was that of a three-year-old, I understood the words “dead” and “free.” So if I died, my baby would be free. So if I died, my baby wouldn’t cry anymore.

The next day, Lucas went to work early. He had sobered up and probably didn’t remember what he’d said last night. Derek also left early in the morning. I heard him on the phone—something about borrowing money from a distant relative. I was alone in the house. It was very quiet. My baby liked quiet. I wiped every corner of the house, using my sleeves, using the hem of my clothes. It wasn’t very clean—there were streaks of water everywhere—but I did my best. Then I opened the big wardrobe that smelled of mothballs. I found the cream-colored professional suit I hadn’t worn in a very, very long time. Derek said this was my favorite outfit when I was a teacher. It took great effort to squeeze into the slightly tight clothes. The buttons were crooked, and the skirt had twisted to the side. I sat at the vanity, imitating what I remembered Megan doing. I picked up the lipstick, twisted it open, and faced myself in the mirror. I wanted to draw pretty lips, but my hands wouldn’t obey. I smeared red all around my mouth, looking like a little demon who had just eaten a dead child. The person in the mirror looked so ridiculous, so ugly. I found a piece of paper in the drawer—the paper I usually practiced writing on. I picked up a pen and, using all my strength, wrote three words stroke by stroke. “Lucas. Good.” After writing, I drew a crooked smiley face next to it. I carefully folded the paper and placed it under my pillow. After finishing all this, I brought over a chair, stepped onto it, and opened the door of the highest cabinet. Derek hid his sleeping pills here. He said he couldn’t sleep at night and needed pills. I took out the small white bottle. I remembered the pills were bitter. I was afraid of bitter things. But Lucas’s words from last night kept echoing in my ears. “If you were dead, I’d be free.” I wanted to be a good, obedient mommy. I couldn’t make my baby unhappy. I twisted off the cap and poured the entire bottle of colorful little pills into my mouth. There was no water. I just swallowed them dry. The pills scraped down my throat, burning like fire, dry and painful. I lay on the living room sofa—Lucas’s favorite spot. I held the family photo tightly against my chest. In the picture, I was smiling so gently. Lucas was still so small, perched on Derek’s shoulders. How wonderful I was back then. The pills took effect quickly. My stomach hurt so much, like countless needles stabbing me. My head was so dizzy. The ceiling was spinning. I wanted to vomit, wanted to scream. But I held it in. I clamped my hand tightly over my mouth. My baby liked quiet. I couldn’t disturb my baby. I obediently closed my eyes and adjusted my position to look like I was sleeping. The evening sunset streamed through the window, warm on my face. I didn’t feel so much pain anymore. Lucas, Mommy listened. Mommy is going to die now. You’ll be free. I floated up. My body became so light, so light, like a cloud. I saw myself lying on the sofa, wearing that ridiculous professional suit, with messy lipstick smeared on my face, holding the family photo. I looked so ugly. I saw Lucas come home from work. He was carrying a beautiful cake box, printed with the logo of Megan’s favorite bakery. He wanted to win back his girl. “Mom, I’m home.” He called out like usual, changing his shoes as he came in. No one answered from the living room. He frowned, seeming a little impatient, probably thinking I was hiding in some corner playing hide-and-seek with him again. He walked to the sofa and saw me. He paused for a moment, then snorted with laughter. “Mom, what cosplay are you doing today? Get up, you’re scaring me.” He reached out to push my shoulder, his tone carrying a hint of helpless affection. “Stop messing around. I bought cake…” His words stopped halfway. Because my body was already stiff and cold.

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When the ambulance rushed me to the hospital, the TV was flooded with coverage praising my parents’ selfless virtue. In front of the cameras, they proudly wrapped their arms around Kevin and turned to the reporters with beaming faces: “This three-million-dollar mansion and fifty-thousand-dollar car are the least we could do.” “Kevin’s parents sacrificed their lives to save us back then, and now we treat him like our own son!” But here I was, in end-stage kidney failure, calling to beg for money for emergency treatment, and my parents brushed me off with a measly two hundred dollars. Two hundred dollars. So that’s what their biological son’s life was worth to them. But if I didn’t pay for the kidney transplant today, I would die. Looking at the check and luxury car they’d prepared for Kevin, I suddenly felt a strange sense of peace. Since they already had another “real” son, I might as well stop calling them my parents. “Where’s the family for Lucas Miller? Patient in bed 23, Lucas Miller—his bills are past due!” A nurse pushed open the door. “The patient is at high risk for acute liver failure. His clotting function is already compromised. If fees aren’t paid, we’ll have to stop all treatment and medication!” I lay in the hospital bed, my blood feeling like it was on fire, boiling hot, yet my heart was cold as if plunged into an ice cellar. My phone was right beside me. With trembling hands covered in needle marks, I dialed my mother’s number. The phone rang for a long time, and she finally picked up just a second before it went to voicemail. The background was filled with the clinking of glasses, laughter, and celebratory music. “Hello? Lucas?” My mother’s voice was shrill with excitement. “Didn’t I tell you? Today is Kevin’s engagement party. If you want to sulk and skip it, fine, but why are you calling when I’m at my busiest?” “Mom…” I gasped for breath, my throat thick with the metallic taste of blood. “I’m in the hospital… liver failure… The doctors say I need to pay immediately for treatment, or I’ll die…” There was a pause on the other end. Then the background noise quieted, as if she had covered the phone and walked to a corner. “Lucas Miller, this kind of joke isn’t funny at all.” Her tone turned ice-cold. “You were perfectly fine just two days ago, and the moment Kevin gets engaged, you suddenly have liver failure?” “Are you jealous that we bought Kevin a house? Is that why you’re pretending to be sick at this crucial moment just to make trouble for us?” “Mom, it’s real. I’ve been vomiting blood… The hospital has issued multiple critical condition notices…” “I have no money in my account. Can you transfer me a hundred thousand to save my life? Just a hundred thousand…” “A hundred thousand?!” My mother’s voice shot up an octave. “Lucas Miller, are you deliberately trying to ruin things for us? All our liquid assets were withdrawn yesterday and converted to cash to display on the table for Kevin’s future in-laws! Where would we get extra money for your nonsense?” “Then give me back MY money!” I roared with the last of my strength. “Two years ago, you said you were keeping that five hundred thousand for my wedding fund! That was everything I saved in five years of working! That’s MY money! Give me back that five hundred thousand—even just a hundred thousand would be enough!” Silence on the other end. Then my father, Richard Miller, grabbed the phone and started shouting: “What do you mean YOUR money, MY money? Once money comes into this household, it’s the family’s money! We already used that five hundred thousand for Kevin’s Mercedes down payment! Lucas Miller, how can you be so selfish? Kevin’s had such a tragic life—his parents both died. If we don’t put on a good show, how will his future in-laws respect him? Can’t you think about your parents for once? If people start gossiping about this, where will we put our faces?” My heart grew colder by the second. When my parents took my money, they smiled and said they were saving it for their son’s future. Turns out they meant their other son. “Enough! Stop the act!” My father lowered his voice. “I know you’ve always been jealous of Kevin. But Lucas, you need to be the bigger person! You’re our biological son. You have an intact family. Why do you have to fight with an orphan over such petty things?” Click. The call ended. I stared at the ceiling, the harsh white lights stinging my eyes. In the corner of the room, the TV happened to be playing the local noon news. “Today, renowned philanthropists Richard and Patricia Miller hosted a grand engagement party for their adopted son Kevin, presenting him with a three-million-dollar fully-paid condo in the city center and a luxury car worth hundreds of thousands. This fulfills their promise to their late comrade, and their noble act of loyalty has touched everyone present…” On screen, my parents wore expensive custom-tailored outfits, each holding one of Kevin’s hands, grinning from ear to ear. A reporter extended the microphone toward my father. He faced the camera, his face glowing with pride, and made a humble gesture with his hands: “In life, what matters most is having a clear conscience.” A clear conscience? The enormous irony crashed down on me like a sledgehammer. A surge of blood rushed up my throat. With a violent “splat,” crimson sprayed out, soaking the white sheets red. The heart monitor screamed. My consciousness spiraled away as the world spun around me. “Not good! Massive hemorrhage!” “Quick! Transfer to ICU! Prepare artificial liver support! Where’s the family? If they don’t pay now, we’ll lose him!” Just before darkness swallowed me completely, I saw a figure at the end of the corridor—my fiancée, Emma, charging toward me like a madwoman. Her hair was disheveled, her face deathly pale. She held up a bank card, sobbing hysterically: “I paid! Doctor, I paid! I took out a payday loan! Please, save him!”

I was transferred out of the ICU three days later. Emma had been keeping vigil by my bed, her eyes swollen like walnuts. When she saw me wake up, the apple in her hand rolled to the floor, and tears instantly streamed down her face. “The money… where did it come from?” I asked weakly. I knew that after my parents took my five hundred thousand, we’d been saving up again for a down payment. There was no way we had anything in our accounts. Emma lowered her head, biting her lip hard. “I took out some payday loans. Enough for the surgery.” My heart felt like it had been struck by a hammer. “You silly girl…” “I’m not silly. Your parents are the ones who are insane.” Emma’s face was filled with rage. She pulled out her phone and showed me a screenshot. “A few days ago, I called your mom crying, begging for help, saying you were sick and needed money. Your mom said you were just being jealous, trying to ruin things for Kevin.” She took a deep breath. “Then she transferred me two hundred dollars.” Two hundred dollars. To put on a show for their adopted son, they had taken my five hundred thousand in savings and spent three million on a house. But their biological son’s life? In their eyes, it was worth exactly two hundred dollars. I closed my eyes, a sharp pain twisting in my chest. These past ten years, ever since the first banner of commendation arrived at our home, ever since the neighbors started giving thumbs up and praising “the noble Millers”—everything had changed. All that praise became like a drug to them. To prove their selflessness, their love for me gradually shifted away. It was as if showing me any affection would somehow shortchange Kevin. I spent several more days in the hospital. My parents never called. Not once. Once I was well enough, I had Emma help me check out. Since my parents had no room for me as their son, there was no point in holding on anymore. I had once turned down a six-hundred-thousand-dollar job offer in New York just to stay local and take care of them. Now, I owed them nothing. The moment I got home, the door swung open. My mother walked in carrying a few boxes, my father following behind with his hands clasped behind his back, his expression stern. And Kevin—wearing an expensive designer suit, a Rolex on his wrist—stepped inside and immediately wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Bro, how many days has it been since you showered? It reeks in here.” For once, my mother didn’t respond to him. She noticed my pale complexion and quickly set down the boxes, reaching up to touch my face. “Lucas, why do you look so terrible? When you said you were in the ICU the other day… was that actually true?” My father paused, and his gaze softened slightly. This late flicker of concern pricked at me like a needle. Maybe, just maybe, they still cared about me after all— Before I could say a word, Kevin stepped forward. “Oh, bro, you’ve already packed your bags? Planning a trip or something?” “Are you still mad at me? I mean, you seemed perfectly fine before, but the moment Mom and Dad buy me a house, you end up in the ICU. And now you’re packing to leave. Mom, Dad, don’t blame him—it’s only natural he’d feel some resentment. This is my fault as the big brother. I didn’t take care of his feelings.” Whatever guilt my parents had just started to feel? Kevin’s little speech wiped it clean. “So you’re saying I faked being sick?” Kevin kept fanning the flames. “I didn’t say that. If you weren’t really sick, you obviously wouldn’t have asked Mom and Dad for money. But hey, if you’re really that strapped for cash, how about I sell the Mercedes and give you the money? Your health comes first. Don’t hurt yourself just to make a point, okay?” I let out a cold laugh. He was slick, I had to admit—a few carefully chosen words to make himself look magnanimous while implying I was faking everything. I was about to fire back when my mother jumped in, already worked up. “That car is a gift for him! Lucas, you’ve always been such a good boy—why would you be upset? You missed Kevin’s engagement party. The least you can do is take him and his fiancée out for a nice dinner. Show some sense.” “I’m not going.” My voice was ice. My father pointed a finger at my face, all traces of earlier concern gone—replaced by pure fury at being defied. “Lucas Miller! Look at your brother! Look how much he cares about you! And you? Just to spite us, you fake a hospital stay? Do you have any idea how important that engagement party was? Are you not happy until you’ve completely humiliated me?” I watched them play their little good-cop-bad-cop routine while Kevin stood off to the side, barely hiding his smirk. In that moment, my heart finally died. I slammed the hospital report onto the coffee table. “Whether I faked it or not—see for yourselves.” “From today on, your son’s name is Kevin. Enjoy worshipping him.” “As for me, Lucas Miller—from this moment forward, I’m cutting all ties with you!”

Dead silence. Emma carefully steadied me, worried I might pass out from the stress. Then my father raised his hand and slapped me across the face. SMACK! “You ungrateful wretch! You’d sever ties with us over a little money? We raised you for nothing!” My father shook with rage. I worked my jaw, testing the numb spot where he’d hit me. My mouth filled with the taste of blood, but I smiled. “Dad, isn’t this exactly what you wanted? Without a petty, calculating biological son like me around, it’ll really showcase just how selfless and noble you are toward your adopted son.” “You—” My father’s lips trembled. He couldn’t get another word out. Right on cue, Kevin, who had been silent until now, dropped to his knees with a dramatic thud. He clutched my father’s leg, crying with such conviction it would’ve won an Oscar. “Dad! Don’t hit him! This is all my fault! I’ll sell the car right now, return the house—I’ll do anything if it’ll make Lucas feel better!” His performance instantly melted my mother’s heart. She pulled Kevin up, tenderly brushing the dust from his knees, then turned to glare at me. “Lucas Miller! Kevin is on his knees begging you—what more do you want? Yes, we’ve been good to Kevin, but that’s because we owe a debt! If Kevin’s father hadn’t taken that bullet for your dad back then, you wouldn’t even exist! Your entire life was given to you by Kevin’s family! Now we’re just letting your brother live a little better, and you can’t stand it?” “Haven’t I paid enough of that debt with my own blood and flesh?” I looked at them, my eyes hollow. “My savings. My health. If Emma hadn’t come to save me, would you have taken my life too?” “What nonsense are you spouting!” My mother’s fury instantly turned on Emma. She looked her up and down with contempt. “I knew it was you stirring up trouble behind the scenes! Some girl from out of town, seeing how naive Lucas is, trying to manipulate him into handing over the family’s assets. Well, let me tell you—as long as we’re alive, that’s never happening!” Emma’s face went ghost-white, her whole body trembling with rage. I pulled her behind me, my heart sinking into ice water, freezing over inch by inch. This was my mother. She could give my life-saving money to an outsider, yet viciously suspect the woman who had taken out loans to save my life. Kevin was still putting on his sympathetic act nearby. “Mom, don’t say that about my sister-in-law. She was just trying to help Lucas. Hey bro, how about this—you spent so much on medical bills, and I don’t make much right now, but I can give you a thousand bucks a month for living expenses. How’s that sound? Don’t think it’s too little—it’s just my way of showing I care.” A thousand bucks. Charity, was it? That casual, condescending offer, dripping with pity and utter humiliation, was the final straw. I had Emma hand me the document I’d been too soft-hearted to pull out before—the severance agreement. I slapped it on the table. I looked calmly at the three of them and spoke, word by word: “Sign it. From now on, any debt of birth and upbringing is wiped clean.” “As for my life—Emma gave it to me. It has nothing to do with any of you anymore.” “Fine, fine, fine! You’ve grown some backbone!” My father pointed at me, then turned and had Kevin pull a stack of documents from his briefcase. He pointed to the papers on the table. “This is the deed transfer for the last property under your mother’s and my names—this old apartment. We’ve decided to sign it over to Kevin right now.” “As for you—” He tossed another document at me. “This is a Declaration of Inheritance Waiver. Sign it to prove you’re not after the family money, and we’ll agree to cut ties with you!” So that’s what this was. That’s why they came in the first place. Not out of concern—but to make me give up everything to my face. “I’ll sign.” I signed my name without hesitation, and watched as they signed the severance agreement. When it was done, I gestured toward the door. “You two can see yourselves out.” I pushed them out and shut the door. Beyond my parents’ curses, I could hear Kevin’s fake attempt at consolation: “Dad, Mom, don’t be upset. Lucas is just confused right now. Give it a couple days and he’ll come crawling back to beg for forgiveness…” I didn’t say another word. I just laughed coldly to myself. Emma and I packed our bags and left. Just as I boarded the train to New York, my phone buzzed with a file from the private investigator I’d hired. That was the commission I’d placed earlier. The document stated clearly: Kevin’s parents had never actually died.

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One month after my mother passed away, my father brought his mistress home. I screamed and cried, grabbing a glass and hurling it at the woman and her daughter. The scheming mistress cried, but clutched her head and leaned against my father, saying she was fine. My father flew into a rage. For the first time ever, he yelled at me and told me to go back to my room. I couldn’t take it anymore and ran away from home. My father was so angry his heart condition nearly flared up: “If you leave, don’t ever come back!” But I still left. I didn’t even take a single penny—I wanted him to regret cheating, to regret losing me and my mother! But after I left, I realized how brutal the real world actually was. I hadn’t even finished high school. All I could do was manual labor and food delivery. Three thousand dollars a month wasn’t enough to rent a decent place. I had to share a cramped basement apartment with strangers. One night, rushing to make a delivery, I ran a red light and got hit by a truck. I died in an unclaimed body in the morgue, while my father was throwing a one-month celebration for his new son at his mansion. He had a loving wife, a son and daughter, the perfect happy family—while I died alone on a freezing night! But then, when I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day that woman and her daughter first showed up! This time, I didn’t cry or scream. I just secretly slipped my father a sterilization drug.

The glass hit the mistress square on the head. She clutched her bleeding forehead and collapsed against my father. My father screamed at me: “Emma! Have you lost your mind? Did everything I taught you go in one ear and out the other?” I froze for a moment, then realized—I had been reborn. The mistress clung to my father’s arm and said softly: “Richard, don’t be so hard on her. She just lost her mother. It’s normal for her to be upset.” My father held her protectively and pointed at me: “Apologize to Victoria right now!” Victoria’s eyes glistened with tears as she quickly waved her hands: “No, no, it’s fine. I know Emma looks down on someone like me. Please don’t fight because of me. I’ll just leave.” She turned and started dragging her suitcase toward the door. But then her daughter, Megan, suddenly burst into tears: “Mom, didn’t you already give up our apartment? Are we going to be homeless again?” My father, who had been hesitating about whether to let them stay, suddenly made up his mind. He pointed to the master bedroom: “Stay. Victoria, from now on, you’re the lady of this house!” Then he pointed at me: “Emma, go to your room and think about what you’ve done!” The mother and daughter kept their heads down, sobbing, but I could see the triumph hidden in their eyes. Scheming bitches! She knew exactly what she was getting into when she became his mistress. My mother wasn’t even cold in her grave, and here they were, moving in. I didn’t know what kind of act she was putting on. I clenched my fists, wanting to throw another glass. But when I looked up, my father’s face was already red with fury. In my previous life, my pride couldn’t handle my father yelling at me. I stormed out without taking anything—and all my jewelry and designer bags ended up with Megan. In the end, I died getting hit by a truck over a three-dollar delivery tip. A miserable death. This time, I would not make the same mistake! I relaxed my grip and pinched my thigh hard, forcing tears to well up in my eyes. “Dad, are you abandoning me?”

My father, who had been furious just moments ago, paused. His tone softened slightly: “What nonsense are you talking about? You’re my only daughter! How could I ever abandon you?” I pouted and pointed at Megan: “What about her? Isn’t she here to be your daughter? Isn’t she moving into our home?” My father said without thinking: “She’s Victoria’s daughter. If you don’t like it, she can just call me ‘Uncle Richard’ instead.” Seeing their chance at the mansion slipping away, Victoria and Megan’s faces stiffened. Megan put on her most pitiful expression: “Uncle Richard, does Emma not like me?” Victoria immediately jumped in: “Richard, are we making things difficult for you by being here? If Emma really doesn’t want us, I won’t force it.” “As long as I can be with you, anywhere is home.” My father was instantly moved by this heartfelt declaration. He took a deep breath. “Emma, from now on, Victoria is like your mother! And Megan is like your sister. You need to treat them well.” My hands clenched tight, my nails digging into my palms. The flowers on my mother’s grave hadn’t even wilted yet, and this woman was supposed to be like my mother? “Dad, it hasn’t even been thirty-five days since Mom passed. You two were childhood sweethearts, deeply in love. Is Victoria really in such a hurry?” At the mention of my mother, guilt flickered in my father’s eyes. He finally stopped insisting. “You’re right, I wasn’t thinking clearly. Victoria, why don’t you and Megan stay at the apartment downtown for a few days?” Victoria stared at me, a flash of venom in her eyes. She clutched her injured forehead and said weakly: “Richard, you know I’ll do whatever you say…” Before she could finish, she fainted. Megan nearly burst into tears. “Mom! What’s wrong? Please don’t scare me! You know your health isn’t good!” My father went into full CEO-rescue mode, scooping her up and shouting: “Doctor! Where’s the doctor?!” I sat on the couch, smirking coldly. So what if she used this trick to stay? I had plenty of ways to get rid of them!

“The family doctor said Victoria has a concussion from you hitting her with that glass. Go apologize properly!” Victoria was lying in bed, her head wrapped in gauze, still playing peacemaker. “Richard, don’t blame her. I’m sure she didn’t mean it, right?” Victoria looked at me with that soft, challenging gaze. Normally, I would have been provoked. But now? I could out-manipulate her. I put on my most pitiful expression: “I’m sorry, Dad. I was just so angry that I threw a glass. How was I supposed to know Victoria would walk right into it?” My father was so caught off guard by my response that he actually laughed, his anger fading. He patted my head and said: “I’ve spoiled this child too much. Victoria, please don’t be upset.” Victoria’s face darkened, but she forced a smile and said it was fine. As long as they could stay here, she wasn’t worried about winning over a man’s heart. When it came time to choose bedrooms that evening, Megan immediately set her sights on my room on the second floor. My room was spacious with great natural light, plus it had its own bathroom and walk-in closet. Victoria quickly said: “That’s Emma’s room. Do you really think you deserve to stay there?” “Richard, Megan isn’t used to such big rooms. The guest room downstairs is fine. We don’t want to be any trouble.” Megan started crying pitifully, and I could see my father starting to soften. I spoke up immediately: “Dad, I think Victoria has a point. What if Megan has nightmares in such a big room?” “Our guest room is perfectly nice. Once it’s tidied up, Megan will feel right at home.” My father’s furrowed brow relaxed: “You’re right. I wasn’t thinking. Since she’s not used to big rooms, the guest room will do for now.” Victoria couldn’t maintain her smile any longer. But the smile didn’t disappear—it just moved to my face. Back in my room, I pulled up the hidden camera feed I’d installed in the guest room earlier. Megan was crying and throwing a fit about not wanting to stay in that room. She wanted my big room. “Mom, you said I was going to be a rich heiress! Why am I still being stepped on by Emma?” Victoria’s face was dark with anger: “What do you know? This is called strategic retreat. Does that little brat really think she can outplay me?” “Your Uncle Richard doesn’t have a son. Once I get pregnant with his baby, we’ll see how smug Emma is then!” With that, Victoria walked out the door, ready to bring tea to my father in his study. And I had already slipped the sterilization drug into the kettle.

What I didn’t expect was that three months later, Victoria actually got pregnant! When I heard the news, I was stunned. I immediately messaged the seller who’d sold me the drug, asking what was going on. The reply came: “That’s absolutely impossible. This isn’t some ordinary fertility suppressant. If a man takes too much of this, he’ll become…” The rest of the message made me laugh—and confirmed one thing. My father definitely couldn’t get anyone pregnant anymore. So whose baby was Victoria carrying? My father was overjoyed at becoming a father again in his later years. Not only did he have the master bedroom completely redecorated to Victoria’s taste, he even insisted that Megan move into my room. “Victoria said Megan gets scared sleeping alone. Let her stay with you.” Victoria stroked her still-flat belly and shot me a triumphant smile. “Emma, you don’t mind, do you?” I smiled right back at her: “Of course not. Once you give birth to my little brother, we’ll all be one big happy family.” Seeing us getting along so well, my father beamed with joy and announced that the whole family would go out for dinner that night. When I got back to my room, Megan was standing in front of the mirror, trying on a pair of my wine-red stilettos. When she saw me come in, she grinned: “Such pretty shoes. I’m just trying them on. You don’t mind, do you?” Those were a gift from my mother for my eighteenth birthday. The last gift she ever gave me. I couldn’t even bring myself to wear them. I couldn’t take it anymore. My face went cold: “Take them off. Now.” Megan sneered: “Dropping the act now that your dad’s not around?” Then she kicked her foot hard against the full-length mirror. The delicate heel snapped clean off, and the glass shattered with a deafening crash. I stood frozen as hurried footsteps thundered up the stairs behind me. Victoria came up clinging to my father’s arm. She covered her mouth, her eyes instantly welling with tears. “Megan! What happened to your leg? There’s blood everywhere! Does it hurt?” Megan clutched her bleeding shin, crying: “I’m sorry, Emma. I shouldn’t have tried on your shoes. Please don’t blame Mom.” The broken heel lay discarded on the floor—it looked exactly like I’d thrown the shoe in a fit of rage. My father frowned, disappointment written all over his face: “Emma, I actually thought you’d grown up a little. Turns out you’re two-faced!” I instinctively tried to explain: “She’s the one who—” But my father cut me off, raising his voice: “Enough! You always have excuses! I think you just don’t want this family to be happy!” I shut my mouth. My father made a phone call, then pointed at my closet: “Pack your things. You’re an adult now—move out.” “I’ve already arranged a place for you. Don’t come back unless it’s absolutely necessary. Victoria needs to rest. She can’t be stressed.” I nodded: “Fine. I’ll go. But I’m taking one thing with me.”

With that, I shoved Megan aside and pulled the heels off her feet. Her hands landed on the broken glass, and she let out a shriek. She glared at me through gritted teeth. I didn’t even look at her. I just wiped the stains off the shoes with disgust. “Congratulations. You two finally got what you wanted—getting me kicked out.” My father was about to lecture me again, but I looked up at him, my voice breaking: “This was the last gift Mom ever gave me. I’m not leaving it for them.” My father froze. I walked past them and headed downstairs without another word. The driver was already waiting at the door. I got in the car and closed my eyes. I’d already sold off or swapped out everything valuable in the house. After what happened in my past life, I understood one thing clearly: money is the only thing you can count on. As for Victoria and her daughter? There was plenty of time to deal with them. The apartment my father arranged was near my school. It was one of those fancy prep schools where money could buy your way in. When I showed up the next day, I found out Megan was enrolled there too. She was wearing my clothes, carrying one of the fake designer bags I’d swapped in, surrounded by classmates showering her with compliments. “Oh look, isn’t that our former heiress? Got kicked out and still showing up to class?” The group burst into mocking laughter. Megan sauntered over to me and said sweetly: “Don’t listen to them, Emma. Even after the baby’s born, you’ll still be part of the family.” I pulled my hand away coldly: “‘Our’ family? Are you even a Whitmore?” Megan’s expression stiffened. She pouted: “Do you still hate me, Emma? It’s not like I asked Uncle Richard to kick you out.” Some of the social climbers quickly jumped in: “Megan, don’t apologize to her. She’s just stuck up!” “Exactly. Acting all high and mighty when she won’t even get a cent of the inheritance.” I said nothing, just looked down at my book. I’d been through enough in my past life to know how fickle people could be. Their mockery didn’t faze me. Megan basked in the attention and announced loudly: “When my little brother’s one-month celebration comes around, you’re all invited!” I gripped my pen tighter, smiling coldly to myself. Oh, let them all come. I couldn’t wait. Ten months passed in the blink of an eye, and the day of the baby’s one-month celebration arrived. My father called me personally and told me to come home. “Enough with the attitude. This is your baby brother. What will people think if his big sister doesn’t show up?” I agreed immediately and grabbed the folder sitting on my desk, tucking it into my bag. When I arrived in my plain school uniform, my father—who was busy greeting guests—frowned at me. “Emma, do you have any sense of dignity? You couldn’t even find a decent outfit?” I glanced at Megan and tilted my chin toward her: “All my nice clothes went to the new heiress, didn’t they?” My father went silent. He waved over his assistant to take me to change. But Victoria appeared, cradling the baby: “Emma, you’re here! Would you like to hold your little brother?” Before I could react, she was already placing the baby in my arms. I reached out to catch him—but it was too late. The swaddled infant slipped from the blanket and hit the marble floor. The baby’s agonized wails echoed through the hall. I stared at her in disbelief. This woman was ruthless enough to use her own son as a pawn! All eyes turned to us. Victoria sobbed dramatically: “Emma! Even if you don’t like your brother, how could you drop him like that?” My father’s face went dark. Without even letting me explain, he slapped me across the face. My head snapped to the side, my cheek burning. It took me a moment to process it. My father had hit me. This was the first time in my entire life. A wave of humiliation and fury exploded in my chest. My father clutched his chest, glaring at me with raw disappointment: “I really misjudged you! You heartless, ungrateful girl! You couldn’t even hold onto your own brother!” Victoria clutched the baby, wailing: “He’s just a baby! Can’t you stand him that much? Are you that afraid he’ll take your inheritance?” Everyone was staring at me now. Some with contempt. Some with disdain. Some just enjoying the show. “The Whitmore heiress is vicious, huh? Dropping a one-month-old baby like that!” My father was trembling with rage. He spat out: “Do you think I’m too old to do anything? Let me tell you—you won’t see a single penny of my money!” The room erupted in shocked murmurs. Victoria and Megan couldn’t hide their glee. This meant the entire Whitmore fortune would be theirs! I touched my stinging cheek and let out a bitter laugh. But I didn’t break down or cry like they expected. Instead, I pulled the document out of my bag. “Dad, why don’t you take a look at this gift first before you make any decisions?”

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My husband was an undercover hero who helped take down the mob. To save that hostage girl, he was tortured by them for an entire month. After he was rescued, his body was covered in scars, and he developed a severe physical condition. The doctors said it was psychological trauma—that he couldn’t be pushed. I was heartbroken. For three years, I didn’t even dare breathe loudly in my sleep. I was terrified of disturbing his fragile nerves. I spent every penny we had on his treatment. I even paid for that poor rescued girl’s education. On the day of the police commendation ceremony, the big screen accidentally played an unreleased surveillance clip. In the footage, that man—who acted so timid and submissive around me— was pinning that girl against a desk, going at it like a wild animal. His mouth was full of filthy words, his movements rough and savage. He quickly covered my eyes. “Don’t look! That was just an act to gain the mob’s trust!” “Tech team! Who played that video? Shut it off now!” Captain Harris’s roar exploded through the auditorium. The blinding white light from the screen vanished, plunging the entire hall into dead silence and darkness. I sat frozen in my seat, hands and feet ice cold. The hand covering my eyes carried the familiar scent of tobacco. But that same hand, just moments ago on screen, had been gripping another girl’s hair. “Emma, don’t look.” Ryan’s voice came from beside my ear—steady as always, but with an almost imperceptible tension. I didn’t move. I didn’t speak. My fingers unconsciously twisted the hem of my shirt, wrenching the soft fabric into a hard knot. It was a nervous habit of mine. The lights snapped back on with a sharp click, stinging my eyes. Everyone around me—colleagues, family members—their gazes landed on me like spotlights. Pity. Curiosity. Contempt. Schadenfreude. Ryan lowered his hand. His face looked pale under the lights, but his eyes remained calm. He took off his crisp uniform jacket and draped it over my shoulders, covering my trembling body. “Just a misunderstanding. Special interrogation tactics, that’s all.” He spoke to the people around us. His voice wasn’t loud, but it was enough for the nearest rows to hear clearly. “Everyone, please continue. Let’s not let this little hiccup ruin the ceremony.” His tone was calm, as if that clip—practically worthy of an adult film—was nothing more than mundane work footage. Captain Harris hurried over, his face full of apology and concern. “Emma, are you okay? Those idiots in tech messed up. I’ll deal with them later!” The way he looked at me was pure, genuine concern—like an elder worried about someone younger. For three years, the entire department knew about Ryan’s condition. They also knew that to take care of him, I’d quit my job and stayed by his side every moment. In their eyes, I was the noble, patient, selfless officer’s wife. But now, that nobility had become a huge joke. “I’m fine, Captain.” My voice came out dry and hoarse. Ryan wrapped his arm around my shoulders, his grip firm and commanding. “I’m taking her home to rest.” He didn’t give anyone a chance to ask more questions. We walked through countless complicated stares and left the auditorium. Cold wind rushed through the corridor. I shivered. It wasn’t until we got into the car that he let go of me. The car felt cramped. The smell on him—sweat mixed with something primal—made me nauseous. I turned to stare out the window, my stomach churning. “It was fake.” He started the car and finally spoke. “What was fake?” “What happened in the video. It was a performance for the mob, to gain their trust.” His explanation was exactly what I’d expected—calm, logical, flawless. “That girl, Anya, she was in too deep back then. Without some special tactics, she wouldn’t have talked.” “I thought those files were destroyed long ago. I didn’t expect the tech team to make such a mistake.” He drove while glancing at me from the corner of his eye. “I know it’s hard to accept, but that was my job.” “Emma, you have to understand.” Understand. Those words again. For three years, I understood the trauma from his failed mission. I understood his physical condition. I understood all his sensitivities and fragilities. I took care of him like a delicate porcelain doll. But I couldn’t understand how he could sleep with another woman on a desk without batting an eye. Yet around me, a single touch seemed like torture to him. The car stopped downstairs. I didn’t move. Ryan unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned toward me. His face was close to mine. Those eyes that once made me fall so deep—now they were filled with exhaustion and some complicated emotion I couldn’t read. “Stop being upset, okay?” His voice softened, coaxing. “Anya’s waiting for us upstairs. She was really scared today.” Those words hit me like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head. I whipped my head around and stared at him. “Why is she in our home?” Ryan frowned, a flash of impatience crossing his eyes. “She was scared living alone. She moved in a few days ago.” “I thought I told you.” He said it like it was the most natural thing in the world—as if this wasn’t my home, just some hotel where anyone could crash. I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms. He hadn’t told me. He hadn’t told me anything.

I pushed open the car door and stumbled toward the building. The key jammed in the lock. It took several tries to get it right. The moment the door opened, an unfamiliar perfume hit me. In the entryway sat a pair of pink high heels that didn’t belong to me. On the living room couch lay a woman’s jacket. On the coffee table were half-eaten snacks and a fashion magazine. Everything here announced the presence of another woman. Anya walked out of the master bedroom wearing my nightgown. That silk nightgown—I’d splurged on it for my birthday and never once worn it. Now it hung loosely on Anya’s slender frame, the neckline gaping wide, revealing patches of suggestive red marks. “Ryan, Emma, you’re back!” When she saw us, her face took on a startled, rabbit-like expression. She instinctively pulled at her collar. “I’m sorry, Emma. Your nightgown… all my clothes are in the wash. Ryan said I could borrow yours.” She looked at me timidly, her eyes glistening with tears, as if I were the intruder here. Ryan walked in and casually took the glass of water from Anya’s hand, taking a sip. “Were you scared? It’s okay now.” He stroked her head, the gesture intimate and natural. That kind of tenderness—I’d only ever seen it when he first came back from missions, at his most vulnerable. “I’ll go make dinner.” I dropped those few words and fled into the kitchen. Cold water ran over my hands, but I felt nothing. My body was like cotton set on fire, burning from the inside out. I could hear them talking quietly in the living room. “Ryan, is Emma mad? It’s all my fault…” Anya’s voice was tearful. “Don’t overthink it. She just needs time to process.” Ryan’s voice was low. “You had a scare today. Go rest early.” “But I’m scared. Every time I close my eyes, I see those surveillance images…” “Then I’ll stay with you for a while.” The door clicked softly shut. I turned off the faucet and leaned against the cold counter, trembling all over. So it wasn’t that he couldn’t. He just couldn’t with me. I made three dishes and a soup for dinner—all Ryan’s favorites. For the first time, I didn’t serve him food like I usually did. The atmosphere was suffocating. Anya kept her head down, eating in tiny bites, her eyes red-rimmed. Ryan’s expression wasn’t good either. He barely ate before setting down his fork. “I’m full.” He stood up and pulled a stack of cash from his wallet, placing it on the table. “This month’s living expenses. Let me know if it’s not enough.” I stared at those crisp bills and found them blinding. When did our relationship come down to just this? “Is Anya’s tuition and rent coming from this too?” The question slipped out before I could stop it. Ryan’s movements froze. He turned to look at me, his eyes going cold. “She’s a girl with no one to rely on. Helping her is the right thing to do.” “Emma, I thought you were better than this.” Better than this? I’d spent every penny we had treating his so-called “condition.” I’d sold the jewelry my mother left me to pay for this “poor girl’s” education. And all I got was being told I wasn’t being generous enough. My heart felt like it was being crushed by an invisible hand. I could barely breathe. “Fine. I’m petty.” I lifted my head and met his gaze. “Ryan, tell her to move out.” “This is our home.”

Anya’s fork clattered to the floor. She flinched, shoulders hunching, tears spilling down her cheeks. Ryan’s face went completely dark. He didn’t look at me. Instead, he walked over to Anya, bent down to pick up the fork. “Don’t be scared.” He pulled her up and positioned her behind him, shielding her like she was facing some vicious enemy. “Emma, are you done throwing your tantrum?” I watched him protect another woman like that, and I laughed—but tears fell despite me. “Ryan, who’s the one throwing a tantrum here?” “For the past three years, I’ve lived like a ghost for you.” “I didn’t dare speak loudly. I didn’t dare sleep with the lights on. I was terrified of disturbing your fragile nerves.” “I made you my whole world, my everything. And what about you?” “You were out there sleeping with another woman, then coming home to tell me it was for work!” “How am I supposed to believe that? How am I supposed to understand?” My voice grew louder and louder until I was screaming. Three years of grievances and pain exploded in that moment. Behind him, Anya trembled even harder, crying: “Emma, please don’t blame Ryan. It’s all my fault… If it weren’t for saving me, he wouldn’t have—” “Shut up!” Ryan suddenly growled, cutting her off. The coldness in his eyes could have frozen me solid. “Emma, you really think I’m lying to you?” I bit my lip and said nothing, but the distrust in my eyes said everything. He suddenly laughed—a laugh filled with self-mockery and bone-deep exhaustion. “Fine. Since you don’t believe me, I’ll show you the proof.” He pulled out his phone, tapped the screen rapidly, then tossed it in front of me. On the screen was a hospital diagnostic report. Severe Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, accompanied by serious physiological dysfunction. Black words on white paper, searing my eyes. Below were several video clips—recordings of his hypnotherapy sessions with a psychologist. In the videos, he looked like a helpless child, curled up on the couch, drenched in cold sweat, mumbling words I couldn’t understand. It was a side of Ryan I had never seen—his most vulnerable self. “See?” His voice was rough. “The doctor said my trauma stems from that month of torture. I have an instinctive resistance and fear toward all intimate contact.” “The reason Anya is different…” He paused, as if searching for the right words. “The doctor’s analysis is that because she went through the same hell I did, my subconscious sees her as safe—so it lowered my defenses.” “It’s a pathological response, not a betrayal.” His explanation sounded airtight, even scientifically rigorous. So I wasn’t his exception. I was the unsafe factor being excluded. “So I’m the cause of your condition, is that it?” I murmured. Ryan seemed caught off guard. He froze for a moment. He stepped toward me, wanting to hold me, but I stumbled back a step. His outstretched hand hung in the air, his expression complicated. “Emma, it’s not what you think.” “I love you. I just want us to have a good life together.” “Give me some time, okay? I’ll heal myself.” His voice was soft, almost pleading. I felt like I was losing my mind.

That night, for the first time, Ryan didn’t go sleep in the study. He lay beside me, his body rigid, but a galaxy stretched between our hearts. The next morning, I woke up to find him already gone. In a daze, I packed a few clothes and stuffed them into a suitcase. I needed to get away. I needed to clear my head. I sent Ryan a message saying I was going to stay at my parents’ place for a few days. He didn’t reply. I dragged my suitcase downstairs. At the entrance of our complex, I spotted Ryan’s car parked not far away. He hadn’t left. Something indescribable stirred in my chest. I pulled my suitcase toward his car, step by step. The window rolled down, but it wasn’t Ryan’s face. It was Captain Harris. “Emma, where are you headed?” His expression was serious. “I… I’m going to stay at my parents’ for a few days.” Captain Harris sighed and opened the car door. “Get in. Let’s talk.” The car didn’t head toward my parents’ house. Instead, it circled the city’s most congested main roads, round and round. “That kid Ryan—stubborn as a mule.” Captain Harris drove while he talked. “I know you’ve been wronged. But you also know what these three years have been like for him.” “That month—no human being should have to go through that. If it were me, I probably would’ve lost my mind.” I kept my head down, fingers unconsciously twisting my shirt hem again. I’d heard all this countless times. “I know.” “You don’t just know—you’ve been incredible.” Captain Harris glanced at me through the rearview mirror. “Everyone at the station says Ryan must have saved the world in a past life to marry a woman like you.” “But Emma, some things can’t be fixed just by being good.” My heart clenched. “Captain, do you know something?” Captain Harris was silent for a long time—so long I thought he wouldn’t speak again. He pulled the car over by the river and lit a cigarette. He took a deep drag. “About Anya—what Ryan told you wasn’t the whole truth.” My stomach seized violently. A wave of nausea hit me. My body reacted faster than my brain could process. I never expected what he said next would push me into the abyss. “Anya wasn’t just some ordinary hostage.” “She was the mob boss’s adopted sister.” My mind went blank with a deafening buzz. “What did you say?” “That mission—Ryan’s goal was to take down the entire organization.” “Anya grew up in that world. She did whatever her brother told her. It took Ryan a long time to make her waver.” “Later, when things went south, her brother wanted to clean house. Ryan got captured because he was protecting her.” “So he wasn’t tortured for saving a hostage—he was tortured for protecting Anya?” I could hear my own voice shaking. “You could say that.” “Then… that video?” “It was staged.” Captain Harris exhaled a ring of smoke that blurred his face. “Ryan needed to get the final piece of evidence. The team helped him fake that video.” “To protect his reputation—and to give Anya a fresh start—everyone agreed on the same story.” My marriage. My love. Everything I’d given for three years—all built on a massive lie. “Why… why are you telling me this?” I used every ounce of strength to ask that question. Captain Harris stubbed out his cigarette, his eyes full of struggle and reluctance. “Because that kid Ryan—he’s in too deep.” “What he feels for Anya isn’t just about the mission.” The air in the car seemed to freeze. A clean break is better than a slow death. How easy that sounds. My three years of youth. My wholehearted devotion. The love I thought was unbreakable—it had been a joke from the very beginning. I don’t even know how I got out of the car or how I made it back to that so-called home. I pushed open the door. The place was empty. Anya wasn’t there. Neither was Ryan. Just as well. I needed space to digest the truth. I lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling. My eyes burned dry, but not a single tear would fall. My phone buzzed—a picture message from an unknown number. A photo. In it, Ryan and Anya sat in an upscale restaurant, making wishes over candlelight. Anya wore a birthday tiara, her smile bright and sweet. Ryan’s gaze held a tenderness and adoration I had never seen before. Below the photo was a message: Emma, Ryan’s helping me celebrate my birthday. We’ll be back later. He didn’t want you to overthink, so he told me not to tell you.

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At a friends’ gathering, my boyfriend’s female best friend grabbed my phone while I was in the bathroom. She announced to everyone: “Weren’t you all curious about what she writes in her phone notes? Let’s take a look right now!” Everyone crowded around: “It’s definitely about how pathetically she chased after Jason. Didn’t she have a crush on him for three years?” In an instant, all eyes turned to Jason Sinclair. He lounged lazily on the private room sofa, a satisfied smile on his face. “Jason, can I open it?” Jason didn’t stop her. So Sophia unlocked my notes and read the first page. “Today I finally ran into Jason. I confessed to him and he called me crazy.” Everyone burst into laughter. Then came the second page: “Jason finally agreed to be with me. I’m so happy.” … The last page: “Three years of being with Jason, and I still can’t see him as you.” 0 The words hung in the air, and the room fell silent. Jason’s face darkened as he snatched the phone away. No one dared speak. In the tense atmosphere, someone called out: “Victoria’s here.” Everyone turned to look at me with mocking eyes. I had witnessed everything from outside the door. My whole body felt cold. Jason seemed even angrier than me, his eyes filled with rage. Seeing me standing still, he got up and forcefully dragged me to the stairwell. “Victoria, what does that last line mean?” “Who is he?” The dim light shifted across Jason’s face, and I froze for a second. The face looked so similar. But no matter how similar, he still wasn’t him. Perhaps my gaze was too obvious. Jason grew even angrier and punched the wall behind me. “Who are you looking at through me?” I snapped back to reality and countered: “And what about you? You’re my boyfriend, yet you let another woman go through my private things?” Jason froze, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. Just then, Sophia came running out, playing the peacemaker: “Jason, how could Victoria possibly have someone else in her heart? She probably made someone up in her notes just to make you jealous.” “It’s all fake. Didn’t Victoria do plenty of crazy things to chase you before?” Perhaps remembering how I used to stop at nothing to pursue him, even using other men to provoke him. Jason finally calmed down, his face showing its usual hint of disdain. He stepped back from me, frowning: “Victoria, are you done with your games? Only you could come up with something this boring.” “You’re so annoying, always being so dramatic. Do I have to revolve around you twenty-four seven?” Sophia chimed in: “Victoria, don’t do this kind of thing again. I’m keeping an eye out for you—you’re the only woman by Jason’s side.” I scoffed. Wasn’t she a woman too? Then Sophia deliberately hooked her arm around Jason’s shoulder, saying casually: “Jason, let’s go back. The guys are waiting to party all night.” “Let Victoria cool off by herself. You can’t keep spoiling her.” Jason looked at her, an indulgent smile appearing on his face that even he wasn’t aware of. A bitter ache rose in my heart. Just like before, he would always indulge Sophia. Whatever she wanted, he would agree to. But with me, he was always harsh. When Sophia had cramps, one phone call could make him abandon me and rush to take care of her all night. When it was my turn, he would just say: “Drink some hot water. Everyone else deals with it. Just tough it out.” Despite being treated coldly by him countless times, I never felt wronged. As long as I could see that face, it was enough. Watching them playfully walk away together, my thoughts were interrupted by a message. I opened the screen. It was from a number I knew by heart. “I’m back.” 0

In the early morning, Jason came home completely drunk. He was draped all over Sophia, and even when she put him on the couch, his hands still clung to her tightly. “Sophia, you’re not allowed to say yes to that guy who’s pursuing you.” Sophia smiled provocatively: “Victoria, don’t overthink it. He’s just vetting guys for me.” It didn’t matter anymore. Over the years, men who got close to Sophia were always driven away by Jason in various ways. At first, I thought it was coincidence. Eventually, I couldn’t help but confront him. He would just snap at me irritably: “Sophia and I are just bros. Those guys chasing her are all no good. I’m just helping her deal with them. Is that a problem?” “You have a dirty mind, so everything looks dirty to you!” Pulling myself from the memories, I looked at Sophia and smiled calmly: “I know. I’m not overthinking.” Whether he was vetting guys or truly in love with her, it no longer had anything to do with me. A flash of surprise crossed Sophia’s face. She said awkwardly: “Well, I’ve delivered him. I’ll be going now.” She tugged her hand several times before freeing it from his grip. The winter night was freezing. Looking at Jason’s face, I couldn’t bring myself to leave him like that. I brought out a blanket and covered him. When I pulled the blanket up and accidentally touched his waist, he opened his eyes. Seeing it was me, he snapped: “Get away! Don’t touch me!” My hand paused. The next second, I calmly pulled the blanket off. “It was an accident. Didn’t mean anything by it.” With that, I took the blanket and went into the bedroom. Jason was stunned for a moment, wanting to say something, but ultimately stayed silent. The next morning, as soon as I arrived at work, I was informed that Sophia would be replacing me on the interview project with the top business executives. I was told to send her all the interview materials I had gathered. The project was almost complete—just one final interview left. Without even thinking, I knew Jason was behind this. A chill spread through my heart. He knew exactly how much effort I had put into this project, how many nights I’d spent working in the study. Yet he still let Sophia take my work. Just then, Jason walked in with Sophia. His first words were a warning: “Victoria, cut Sophia some slack. She finally found a project she likes.” “There are so many people at this company. Don’t make things hard for her. Just hand over the project materials.” He was afraid Sophia would feel awkward, so he personally came to smooth things over for her. Yet from work to our relationship, he never once considered my dignity. I couldn’t help but remember the past. Whenever I liked something, if Sophia wanted it too— Jason would give it to her. I had tried begging him not to always side with Sophia, to consider my feelings just once. But all I ever got was his cold response: “If you don’t want to break up, give it to her.” Every time I tried to fight for something, I ended up humiliated. Now, I didn’t want to fight anymore. I didn’t care who he sided with. Seeing me stay silent, Jason’s face darkened with anger. He lowered his voice threateningly: “Victoria, you’d better not make a scene… otherwise…” I smiled and cut him off, shoving the materials I had just organized into Sophia’s hands. “Here. It’s just a project.” Both of them were stunned. Jason grabbed my hand, his eyes dangerous as he stared at me. “What are you playing at?” “Victoria, are you upset? Is that why you’re saying this?” Sophia’s eyes reddened as if she was about to cry. Then she turned to leave. Jason panicked, grabbing her hand. “Sophia, I said it’s yours, so it’s yours.” I laughed coldly, seeing through Sophia’s act. “Sophia, can you drop the act?” “The project and Jason—I’m giving you both…” Before I could finish, Jason’s slap landed on my face. “Who said you could talk to Sophia like that!” My colleagues surrounded us. Jason didn’t care about my dignity. He only worried about upsetting Sophia. Time seemed to freeze. Seeing the red mark rising on my cheek, a flash of pain crossed Jason’s eyes. He stammered: “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to…” Sophia’s crying interrupted him. She said petulantly: “I don’t want it anymore.” Jason glanced at me, said nothing, and chased after Sophia out of the office. I ignored the mocking comments around me, rising one after another just like before. Five days. Just five more days and it would all be over. Everything they gave me today, I would return in full. 0

For three days straight, Jason didn’t come home. The old me would have sent countless messages begging him to come back. But now, I didn’t care where he went. I had just finished throwing away everything that belonged to me in the apartment when my mom called: “Victoria, your dad and I already made dinner plans with Jason’s parents tonight. Let’s discuss the wedding.” I wanted to refuse, but then I thought about it. Over the years, all four parents had invested so much effort into my relationship with Jason. Now that the story was ending, I owed them an explanation. So I agreed. Jason arrived half an hour late. I didn’t expect him to bring Sophia. Noticing my parents’ displeasure, Jason explained dismissively: “We once promised to witness each other’s happiest moments.” “So naturally, she has to be here for the wedding discussion.” Sophia added provocatively: “Yes, we’ve been best friends for so many years. Our bond is naturally special. Victoria, do you mind?” Jason’s gaze swept over me casually, as if waiting for my reaction. I didn’t make a scene. I didn’t refuse. I smiled and reassured my parents: “It’s fine. I don’t mind.” After hearing my response, Jason’s face darkened, and the glass in his hand slipped to the floor. Was he expecting me to throw a fit like before? But I used to care about him. Now, my feelings for him… had completely faded. The atmosphere was strange. Jason’s parents looked apologetic: “Victoria is a wonderful girl. Why don’t we set a wedding date? Whatever your family wants, we’ll agree to it.” My mom smiled: “This is Victoria’s decision to make.” All eyes turned to me. I stood up, and under Jason’s ambiguous smile, I spoke: “I’m sorry, but I don’t want to marry Jason.” My answer shocked everyone. Even Sophia, who had been waiting to see me rejected, froze with her glass mid-air. After a moment, Jason scoffed mockingly: “Victoria, your family has brought up marriage so many times before, and now you’re saying you don’t want to marry me? Do you think I believe that? You set up this dinner to make peace with me, didn’t you?” In the past, my parents had indeed mentioned marriage to Jason multiple times. Even though they didn’t like him, they couldn’t refuse because I was so in love with him. I wanted to keep that face by my side forever, so I threatened my parents with tears and tantrums. So they had to humble themselves for me, again and again. But every time, Jason would brush it off: “I’ll marry Victoria once my career takes off.” After the company went public, he said: “I need to mature more before I can make Victoria happy.” Wait, wait, wait—year after year. He made endless excuses, but I knew what he really wanted to say: The person he wanted to marry wasn’t Victoria. It was Sophia. This time, I would be the one to say it clearly. I spoke again: “Jason, like you’ve always said, we really aren’t suited for marriage.” Seeing how calm I was, confusion and panic flashed in Jason’s eyes. He was about to say something when Sophia suddenly clutched her stomach in pain. “Jason, I think I ate something bad. My stomach really hurts. Can you take me to the hospital?” Jason picked up Sophia in front of my parents and rushed toward the door. Ignoring his parents’ attempts to stop him, he said impatiently to me: “We can discuss the wedding anytime. It doesn’t have to be now. Sophia’s not feeling well and needs to go to the hospital right away.” “Just wait. I’ll definitely marry you.” As soon as he left, his parents shook their heads helplessly: “Victoria, he doesn’t deserve you. We really do want you as our daughter-in-law.” I smiled and comforted them: “It’s okay. There will be other opportunities.”

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