Tristan Cole, who insisted he would never marry, gave me a diamond ring on our eighth anniversary. I thought he’d finally changed his mind and wanted to marry me. Just as I was about to excitedly post it on Instagram, I saw a post his assistant Willow Reed had made one minute earlier. The caption read: Thanks to my boss for buying an eleven-carat pink diamond and having it made into a ring for me. Best boss in the world! The leftover scraps can go to the garbage collector. In the photo, Willow was sweetly leaning on Tristan’s shoulder. I looked down at the less-than-one-carat diamond on my finger. That’s when I realized—what I thought was a treasure was just someone else’s trash. I rushed to the restaurant where Willow was and caught them embracing, about to leave. Tristan frowned and snapped at me impatiently, “Can you stop being so paranoid? I’m just having dinner with an employee and you have to spy on me? Don’t you understand that men need their space?” If this were before, I would’ve argued with him until he came home with me immediately. But now, I just threw the ring at his face. “Fine. You’re completely free now.”

The ring left a bloody scratch on Tristan’s face before rolling to Willow’s feet. Tristan touched the cut on his face and let out a cold laugh. “Victoria, have I been too lenient with you? I give you a ring and you throw it back in my face? Let me tell you, if you don’t want it, plenty of people are begging for it. Don’t be ungrateful.” Willow gasped and picked up the ring from the floor. “Victoria, this was a gift from Tristan’s heart. How could you just throw it away like that?” Though her words sounded regretful, the disgust in her expression was impossible to hide. She even deliberately waved the hand wearing her massive diamond, as if afraid I wouldn’t notice. My tiny diamond looked even more pathetic next to hers. Facing her blatant provocation, I no longer felt the urge to fight with her like I used to. “Sorry, I don’t have a habit of collecting garbage. I can’t accept this ring.” Tristan stared at me, then suddenly smiled with a knowing look. “You’re jealous, aren’t you? It’s time you got over this petty habit. Willow just landed a major deal for the company. This is just a gift to reward her. You stay home doing nothing all day—do you deserve to wear something that big? You should be grateful for what you get.” Listening to his accusations, I felt like laughing. He seemed to have forgotten that eight years ago when he was just starting his business, I was the one drinking at corporate events until I had a bleeding ulcer, securing deal after deal, helping the company get on track. He was also the one who later held me and said we were both too busy with work and the house felt cold without warmth. So I left the company to focus on being the woman behind him, managing everything at home. Now it had become his ammunition to belittle me. “I don’t need your charity.” Seeing my attitude unchanged, Tristan laughed bitterly. “Fine. If you don’t want it, don’t come begging me later.” With that, he snatched the ring from Willow’s hand and hurled it away. Along with my eight years of devotion and love, it disappeared into the darkness. Tristan put his arm around Willow and drove off. When I got home, the table still held the cake and candlelight dinner I’d prepared for our eighth anniversary. I had planned to celebrate our eighth year together with Tristan tonight, but now it seemed pointless. I took a bite of cake. Being left out at room temperature had made the frosting sticky and the taste sour. I grimaced and spit it out, then dumped everything on the table into the trash. There’s no point forcing yourself to eat spoiled food. The same goes for spoiled love.

That evening, Tristan came home at seven for once, right when he got off work. I was just finishing an interview with a company abroad when he walked in. The hiring manager was very pleased with my performance and scheduled me to fly over and start next week. “Next week? Do you have something going on next week?” I calmly closed my laptop and lied without missing a beat. “Nothing much. Just meeting a friend for dinner.” Tristan nodded without comment and draped his coat over a chair. When he noticed the cake in the trash, he raised an eyebrow. “Still upset? Is this really worth it? You scratched my face and I didn’t keep making a fuss about it. Why are you being so unreasonable?” I replied calmly, “I’m not upset.” Tristan scoffed, clearly not believing me. “Not upset but you threw away the whole cake? I don’t know why someone pushing thirty still has such a sweet tooth like a little girl. It’s not even a special occasion and you bought a cake. I think you—” Before he could finish, his eyes landed on the number 8 candle in the trash and he froze. He stared at it for a moment, then looked up at me hesitantly. “Today is… our eighth anniversary?” I’d originally thought the ring was a surprise Tristan had deliberately chosen to give me on our anniversary. But he’d just carelessly given me something Willow didn’t want. He didn’t even remember what day it was. Tristan guiltily touched his nose, his tone softening as he moved closer to me. “Victoria, I’ve been so busy with work I forgot. The ring Willow has was just a reward for landing that big deal, nothing more. It’s good that ring is gone anyway. I’ll take you to buy a bigger one another day.” Over the years, Tristan had mastered this technique—insult then give a treat. Like training a dog, keeping me firmly under his control. But this trick only works on people still immersed in love. A shattered heart can’t be stirred anymore. I turned my head to avoid his touch. “No need. You’re busy. Work is important.” Tristan’s body stiffened, his expression somewhat displeased, but he said nothing and handed me a box from behind him. “Alright, Willow was worried you were upset, so she specially sent this to apologize. It’s one she’s been reluctant to wear herself. Try it and see if you like it.” He opened the box to reveal a lotus-shaped necklace. Most of the small diamonds on the petals had already fallen off. I glanced at it once and threw it back at him in disgust. “I’ll say it again—I don’t collect garbage.” An hour ago, Willow had posted a new gemstone necklace on her feed. Hehe, traded some junk from the bottom of my drawer for a new necklace. Long live the boss! Being rejected by me again and again, Tristan finally lost his patience. “Victoria, my patience has limits! Do you have to make things difficult for a young woman? Willow is a manager now. She’s so busy every day but still considers your feelings. Can’t you learn from her and stop making me angry?” The “young woman” Tristan referred to was actually only two years younger than me. But in his eyes, Willow was an innocent, highly capable young woman. As for me, his words dripped with disdain. He probably thought I was just a frumpy housewife doing nothing at home all day. The figure who fought alongside him during the startup days had probably long vanished from his memory.

In the past, I would have argued endlessly to prove I wasn’t as useless as he claimed. But now I’d lost all desire to communicate with him and just wanted to go back to the bedroom and rest. I nodded perfunctorily. “I understand. She’s a hero. She deserves rewards. I’m not making things difficult for her. I just don’t like wearing necklaces.” Tristan studied my expression carefully. Seeing that I genuinely didn’t seem angry, he was somewhat surprised and took a while before speaking. “That’s good. I’m already exhausted from work every day. I don’t want to come home and argue with you. It’s best if you can figure it out yourself.” After speaking, his tone shifted and he looked at me with a strange expression. “You didn’t think I was proposing when I gave you that ring, did you? And then got so angry at lunch because you realized you’d misunderstood?” I didn’t answer, but he took my silence as confirmation. His expression immediately turned impatient. He tugged at his tie, his voice irritated. “I’ve told you so many times—I don’t believe in marriage and I won’t get married! Don’t you understand plain English? You got your hopes up on your own. Who else can you blame? And then you gave me attitude.” Hearing those four words, my expression grew distant. I remembered when we first started dating, Tristan told me he didn’t believe in marriage. I had struggled with whether to break up with him. But back then he’d just started his business and had to split every dollar in half. Even under such tight financial constraints, he still gave me a gold ring for my birthday. He said that although he didn’t believe in marriage, he promised me he would only give a ring to me in this lifetime. The thin gold ring on my finger made me feel his heavy love. Back then I naively thought, with a love like this, what difference did it make whether we married or not? Besides, what if he changed his mind one day and wanted to get married? Wouldn’t that be even better? So I threw myself in wholeheartedly and continued walking with him. Until today, eight years later. That ring had made me think that eight years of being together had changed his view on marriage and he was ready to walk down the aisle with me. I never imagined it was just someone else’s unwanted trash. Thinking back now, though the startup days were hard, they were our sweetest time. Two people relying on each other squeezed onto a twin bed, with two hearts pressed tightly together. But I don’t know when Tristan started getting impatient with me, belittling me at will. When I quit my job? When the company went public? When Willow joined the company? I couldn’t remember. I only remembered telling myself over and over that he wasn’t like this before. Trying to deceive myself with expired love. Until those two rings shattered all the false filters. Showing me plainly that he’d long forgotten the promise from eight years ago. He was no longer the Tristan from eight years ago. Now, cutting my losses was the best choice.

I sighed, feeling utterly exhausted. “You don’t need to keep emphasizing it. I’m very clear.” Tristan was about to say something when there was a knock—my food delivery had arrived. I stopped talking and opened the package to start eating. Tristan frowned and watched for a while before speaking. “You’re eating that?” “Whatever. Today is our eighth anniversary after all. I won’t argue with you. Throw away the takeout and I’ll cook for you myself.” I hadn’t eaten anything from noon until now. My stomach was starving and I just wanted to fill it quickly. I didn’t have time to wait for him to cook. “This is fine. You don’t have to—” Before I could finish, Tristan reached out to snatch it away. “I said throw it out!” I instinctively protected it with my hand. In the struggle, the takeout container was knocked to the floor. The scalding hot soup spilled onto the back of my hand, instantly raising blisters. Searing pain shot through my hand, and tears involuntarily welled up in my eyes. Tristan looked somewhat panicked. “I didn’t mean to. I’ll take you to the hospital right now.” With that, he grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the door. I was about to say I could go myself when his phone rang. The screen clearly displayed “Willow.” “Tristan, someone’s knocking on my door. I’m so scared!” Hearing Willow’s panicked voice, Tristan immediately tensed up. “Don’t open the door. I’ll be right there.” Tristan’s eyes swept over me, his expression struggling. While he was on the phone, I’d already called a ride on the app. “You go. It’s not safe for a young woman to live alone. As her boss, you have a responsibility to protect her safety.” Tristan let out a relieved sigh. “I’m glad you understand. I’ll come to the hospital to pick you up once I’ve taken care of Willow’s situation.” By the time I’d gotten my burn treated at the hospital, it was already late at night. I checked the ride app—no one was accepting orders, and there were no taxis passing by on the road. I had no choice but to open our chat and message Tristan, asking when he could come get me. This time he replied unusually quickly. “Right away.” So I sat on the flowerbed by the hospital entrance and waited. Half an hour passed. An hour passed. Still no sign of him. By now my empty stomach was also protesting. I could only bend over to make myself feel better. I opened our chat again, wanting to ask Tristan where exactly he was, but accidentally clicked into my feed instead. Willow had just updated her feed an hour ago. The photo was pitch black, but you could vaguely make out a man’s chiseled jawline. The caption read: My boss said he was worried about me being home alone tonight and specially stayed to sleep with me. How can there be such a good boss in the world! I laughed bitterly at myself. How foolish of me to place my hopes again on someone who’d broken his word countless times. I moved my finger and liked the post, commenting below. “Boss and assistant—a match made in heaven.” When I refreshed, the post had been deleted. Willow sent me a message. “Sorry Victoria, I forgot to block you. Tristan is just worried about me so he’s sleeping over. Nothing happened between us. Please don’t be angry with him.” I’d experienced this kind of manipulation too many times over the years. She probably thought I’d do what I always did before—immediately call Tristan and have a huge fight with him, demanding he come home right away. But this time, I just blocked her and continued trying to get a ride. I no longer cared whether Tristan had done anything with her or not.

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When my company went public, I received $60 million in shares and achieved financial freedom. I went home and joked with my parents that I’d been laid off and was planning to move back home to live with them. That same day, they transferred all their properties to my brother. They said they’d be living with him and told me to go rent my own place. My girlfriend also came over to break up with me. I smiled and readily agreed to everything. And kept the $60 million a secret. “Mom, Dad, I came home suddenly because I got laid off. How about you support me for a while?” I watched as my parents froze. I was about to smile and say, “I’m just kidding! Did I scare you?” But then I saw Dad tug Mom’s sleeve. The two of them forced stiff smiles at me: “It’s fine. Take a rest, nothing to worry about.” “Son, why don’t you go rest in your room? Your mom and I need to go out and take care of something.” Then they rushed back to their bedroom. Worried they might actually believe me and start stressing, I was about to knock and explain. But then I heard Dad speaking in the bedroom: “Vincent has no job now and is just lying around at home. What if he’s planning to live off us?! That won’t do! Honey, before he finds out how much we actually have, let’s quickly transfer all our money and properties to Oliver! Better to keep it away from him!” Mom’s voice sounded hesitant: “All the properties? But… there’s one house that’s technically in our name, but Vincent paid for it as our wedding home. If we just do this… is that okay…?” Dad said urgently: “If it’s in our name, it’s ours! He’s got a decent job in the city, and he’s the older brother—what’s wrong with him thinking about his younger brother? As for a wedding home, he can work hard and buy one himself.” “Well, I’m just worried Vincent will think we’re playing favorites.” “Playing favorites? We’re his parents! We raised him! Plus, he just lost his job, didn’t he? Giving everything to Oliver is actually helping him save it. Otherwise, what if he gets lazy, stops working, and wastes it all?!” Mom thought for a moment, then finally nodded: “Alright, then I’ll tell Oliver too, so he doesn’t say anything stupid.” Leaning against the door, I let out a bitter laugh and returned to my room.

I knew that my parents had always favored Oliver. Because I was raised by Grandpa, while Oliver grew up with my parents. Since childhood, they’d told me: “You’re the older brother. You have to give way to your little brother.” “We work very hard to earn money. We had to leave you in our hometown because we had no choice.” “Your school registration is there now. Transferring you wouldn’t be good for your studies. Just stay there—we still have to take care of your brother.” I understood how hard it was for my parents. So after freshman year of college, I never took another cent from them. I even worked part-time to pay my brother’s tuition. After graduation, I worked hard for nearly eight years. I finally saved enough to buy a two-bedroom apartment in my hometown as a wedding home for my girlfriend and me. But my brother said not to waste my first-time homebuyer qualification—what if I had a chance to buy in the capital later? So he suggested putting it in my parents’ names. Since they were family, I thought it didn’t matter, so I agreed. Never did I imagine they’d been scheming against me even back then. I came home this time because I wanted to surprise them. The company I’d invested in went public, and I received over $60 million in shares. Plus, I’d get annual dividends going forward. I was financially free. I’d been planning to come home and discuss buying a villa with my parents, getting my brother a few retail shops, buying him a car, leaving them each a few million for retirement so life would be easier, and then all of us taking a family trip together. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? So originally, I just wanted to make a joke. First scare them by saying I’d live off them, then tell them our family had struck it rich! I never expected I’d be the one shocked instead. But even though hearing my parents say those things caught me completely off guard, my brother Oliver—he wouldn’t go along with it. I’d always given him my best things first since we were kids. I practically raised him myself. We had such a good relationship. He definitely wouldn’t agree to this selfish scheme of our parents.

Before long, my parents said to me with apparent concern: “Son, it’s okay. You’ve been tired for so many years. Now that you’re home, just rest well. Your dad and I are going out to take care of something.” “Tonight, if you want anything for dinner, just text Mom on SnapChat.” If I hadn’t overheard their earlier conversation, I never would have imagined that these seemingly caring parents were actually scheming against me at every turn. Just then, Mom’s phone rang. I heard my brother’s voice on the other end: “Mom, what’s so urgent that you need me to go to the property registry office…?” Mom quickly walked to the side with her phone: “Just go when I tell you to…” Dad shifted his body to block me, smiling: “You rest first. We’re heading out.” I smiled without saying anything. Then, making sure they didn’t notice, I quietly followed them. Sure enough, I saw them corner my brother on the street. I snuck to the corner to eavesdrop. They told him everything they’d said earlier. After listening, my brother frowned deeply: “Mom, Dad, we can’t do this! How can you treat Vincent this way?!” Mom quickly tugged at Oliver’s sleeve: “Oh, Oliver, your brother isn’t working and is just going to lie around at home. Who knows how long he’ll rest? What if he burns through his savings and then makes us support him?! Then what will you use to buy a house and get married?!” Dad nodded in agreement. “Exactly! So many young people live off their parents these days. We need to be careful! And what’s wrong with this? It’s our stuff, the house is in our name—we can give it to whoever we want. Better to give it to you than let him waste it.” Mom spoke up again to persuade him: “Your brother can make money in the capital. Once he knows there’s nothing left at home, he’ll go back and work hard again in a few days. We don’t need to worry about him.” My brother still seemed hesitant: “But what about that girlfriend of his? We’ve met her. Didn’t they say they were going to get married? At least that apartment was supposed to be his wedding home. Are you really okay transferring it to me too?” “Oh, wedding home, whatever! Your brother doesn’t even have a job now—what woman would want to be with him?!” “You’re different. If you don’t have money or a house in the village, it’ll be even harder for you to find a wife and settle down!” “But… but what if Vincent finds out…?” Dad paused, then snorted coldly: “So what if he finds out? We’re still his parents. All these years, your brother has been very good to us. What we say goes.” “Besides, children being good to their parents is only natural. Even if your brother finds out, he’ll understand our intentions and won’t blame us. This is also pushing him to develop himself better!” Mom chimed in: “That’s right! Young people shouldn’t just rest around. Your brother should think about how hard we worked when he was in school. Even if he finds out, so what? Is he going to fight with us? That would make him an ungrateful bastard!” At this point, Dad got even angrier. “Really! If it weren’t for the old man forcing me back then, your brother should have dropped out of school long ago!” “What’s the point of farm kids getting so much education? Boys should go out and work to earn money in their teens. If it weren’t for your grandpa’s stubborn temper, your brother might have made it big already.” “Exactly. Farm kids grow up fast. Oh, those years working outside were so exhausting for us.” Mom glanced at the time and said quickly: “Oliver, let’s go. Hurry to the transfer office. When we get back and see your brother, don’t say anything stupid!” I watched as Oliver’s lips silently opened and closed, then finally he nodded: “Alright, I got it. But this was your idea! My brother is probably just home to rest. What if he goes back to the capital later and makes money? I’m still hoping he’ll buy me a car. Don’t make him resent me!” “Oh, do we need you to tell us? We’ve already thought this through!” I watched this happy family laughing together as they walked away. I leaned against the wall, covered my eyes with one hand, and slowly laughed bitterly… The moment I got the money, my first thought was to come home and tell them. We could finally live the good life. I wanted to share this joy with them. I thought we were family. But what about them? They never considered me family. Only Oliver was their child. What was I? I was just someone for them to use! When things were fine, they’d say a few nice words to appease me, and everything would blow over. Since high school, I hadn’t spent a single cent of theirs. I went to school during the day and worked as a waiter at night, all because I didn’t want them to feel pressured and overworked. I wore hand-me-down clothes and ill-fitting shoes every day. And Oliver? He had more new clothes than he could wear. They told me to understand—Oliver grew up in the county town and was used to being extravagant. And I was the older brother. I should accommodate him and spoil him. I listened. I did as they asked. I thought because I was the older brother, I should be mature. So my parents didn’t care about me because I was independent enough. Never did I imagine they simply didn’t care to waste time on me. Originally, saying I quit my job to live off them was just a joke. But this joke made me face the reality I’d refused to acknowledge for years. Still, realizing it now wasn’t too late. At least the money was still in my hands. … That evening, the whole family sat at the dinner table, exchanging glances with each other. Then Mom spoke first: “Vincent, you’ve worked hard all these years away from home. I know you came back to rest, but… our family situation really isn’t good.” I kept my head down, eating without speaking. At this moment, Dad cleared his throat and spoke: “So… so we did some business before, but we lost all our money. This house… the house is going to be taken away too. Vincent, your mom and I have no money left. We can only move into the place your brother rented.” “But that place is too small. You… you should move out within the week and find your own place to live…” They thought I’d be shocked, that I’d ask questions. They were ready to explain in detail. But unexpectedly, I just said, “Mm.” “Got it. I’ll pack up and move out.” I didn’t care how they planned to lie to me. After all, I didn’t care anymore—just like I wouldn’t tell them about my $60 million in shares. Over the next couple of days, I packed my things. Just as I was about to leave, my girlfriend unexpectedly showed up at my hometown.

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I was arranged to marry into the billionaire Foster family, and my father’s illegitimate daughter, Serena, was insanely jealous. The day before the wedding, she drugged me and took my place as the bride who married into wealth. When I woke up and made a fuss, I managed to drive Serena away. I got my wish and married into the Foster family, but a year later, my husband threw me to a group of homeless men. His eyes were vicious, his voice cold as ice. “If I didn’t still need your family’s investment, humiliating Serena alone would warrant your death ten thousand times over. Now that your family is bankrupt, you’re worth less than a dog.” Serena stood beside him, laughing softly. “You humiliated me back then, so now atone for your sins in that beggar’s den. I’ll take good care of your position as Mrs. Foster.” I couldn’t bear the humiliation and killed myself. When I opened my eyes again, I’d returned to my wedding day. I crawled out of bed and waited an hour before supporting my throbbing head and opening the door. My mother was just walking back with a servant’s support. The tears of reluctance in the corners of her eyes hadn’t dried yet when she looked up and saw me standing at the top of the stairs. She froze in place, stunned. My father frowned and was the first to react. “Miranda, what are you doing here?” He pointed toward the door in shock. “Then who just got into the Foster family’s wedding car?” I clutched my chest with a frightened expression. “What? Someone already took my place in the wedding car? Last night my sister said she couldn’t bear to part with me before I got married, so she lit some calming incense for me. I took a few breaths and slept until now.” The once lively scene instantly fell silent. Everyone exchanged glances with varied expressions. My mother staggered back several steps in anger, nearly fainting. She immediately ordered the servants to catch Mrs. Wilson, who was trying to escape through the crowd. “Well, well! I was wondering why she clung to the bride’s hand during the send-off, crying harder than me, her actual mother. I thought you were some kind of saint, but turns out you birthed this little bastard.” Mrs. Wilson knelt on the ground, her eyes darting around. She stammered, “Madam, I don’t understand what you’re saying. Miranda overslept and delayed the time. How can you blame my Serena for this?” As soon as she finished speaking, the butler rushed over. “The Chase family’s wedding car is already waiting at the door.” My mother’s face turned cold. “Where is Serena? Bring her here immediately.” I lowered my head to hide the cold smile in my eyes. Where else could she be? Obviously in Dominic Foster’s bed. When the marriage was arranged, Dominic Foster insisted on a traditional wedding, saying he wanted to honor family customs. He even hired an authority on tradition to personally supervise the ceremony. The bride wore a veil the entire time. By now, they’d probably already completed the ceremony and entered the bridal suite. Seeing the triumphant look Mrs. Wilson couldn’t quite hide at the corner of her mouth, I became even more certain. This mother-daughter pair really knew how to scheme. Years ago, Mrs. Wilson was our family’s nanny. She drugged my father, climbed into his bed, and gave birth to Serena, enjoying the wealthy lifestyle. Now Serena had drugged me, stolen my identity, and taken my place marrying into wealth. The rice was already cooked. She left me only one option: to pick up the marriage arrangement she didn’t want and marry into the Chase family instead. The Chase family was a newly rising commercial power in recent years. They didn’t have the deep foundations of old money families, but they were aggressive, with involvement in all sorts of emerging industry projects. Unfortunately, the person in charge was disabled. My father had sharp business instincts, which was why he’d arranged Serena’s marriage to the Chase family. If the Chase family succeeded, Serena could rise with the tide and become a wealthy lady living in luxury. If they didn’t succeed, with the Sutton family as a strong backer, she wouldn’t suffer any grievances either. But she didn’t understand our father’s good intentions. She pulled a switcheroo and forced her most despised marriage arrangement onto me. If I agreed, tonight the news that the Sutton family’s legitimate daughter married a disabled man would spread throughout the entire social circle. The entire Sutton family would become the laughingstock of high society. In my previous life, she used this exact move to keep me trampled beneath her feet forever. But with my parents backing me up, I made a scene at the wedding. The Foster family still needed the Sutton family’s help, so they forcibly threw Serena out of the bridal suite. I got my wish and became Mrs. Foster, and Dominic Foster treated me like a precious treasure. Back then, I didn’t know that this man who seemed to give me his whole heart had already gotten Serena pregnant, working together from inside and out. Just waiting for the right moment to completely destroy the Sutton family. The servants’ shocked cries interrupted my thoughts. “Madam, Serena isn’t in her room. Her wedding dress and veil are still here, but she took all the dowry with her.” “Also, I found some things in Serena’s room…” My father picked them up and looked. They were photos of Serena and Dominic Foster together. His face turned iron with rage. He threw the photos hard at Mrs. Wilson’s face. “This is the good daughter you raised! She’s disgraced the entire Sutton family!”

The butler looked worried. “Sir, the Chase family people are urging us outside. What should we do?” My father’s face was stern as he pounded the table heavily. “Contact the Foster family immediately. Quietly bind that bastard and send her to the Chase family. The Sutton family’s marriage arrangements aren’t for some illegitimate daughter to decide!” I pulled on my father’s sleeve and pinched my thigh hard. Tears fell like rain. “Dad, forget it. Serena and Dominic are in love. They’ve already slept together and set up this scheme to embarrass the Sutton family at the wedding. I won’t marry a man like that. Let Serena have him.” I wiped my eyes. “The Chase family has worked with us extensively. Business is built on trust. I don’t want you to break your word. Your daughter is willing to marry into the Chase family.” My father looked at me with shock and emotion. “Miranda, you’re the Sutton family’s legitimate daughter. Looking across the entire social circle, only the Foster family could barely be worthy of you. Marrying into the Chase family would really wrong you, and besides, that Adrian Chase is…” He swallowed the rest of his words, looking at me with heartache. But I smiled and continued for him. “Dad, the Chase family’s Forbes ranking last year was only ten spots behind the Foster family. The Foster family has been around for how many years compared to the Chase family? Adrian Chase may be disabled, but he’s a business genius. With me there in the future and the Sutton family’s support, the Chase family’s prospects are still unknown.” One who stole her sister’s marriage out of greed, and one who stayed calm in crisis and was willing to marry down to preserve the family’s reputation. Mud versus clouds. The difference was clear at a glance. Many people present looked at me with satisfaction, felt even more sympathy for my situation, and were more disgusted by Serena’s behavior. My mother’s heart broke. She held me tightly in her arms. My father ground his teeth in anger. “Even so, my daughter isn’t someone the Foster family can bully at will. Miranda, rest assured, the Foster family wronged you in this matter. You’re right not to marry Dominic Foster. No matter what, I’ll get justice for you.” When we arrived at the Foster residence, the newlyweds had already entered the bridal suite, but the reception was still in full swing. Everyone was dumbfounded when they saw us storm in with such momentum. “Isn’t that Miranda Sutton from the Sutton family? She’s today’s bride. How can she be here?” “That’s not right. The bride was sent to the bridal suite half an hour ago. If it’s not her, then who could the bride be?” My mother laughed coldly. “Apologies for the spectacle, everyone. That bride was also a Sutton family daughter, but she’s a lowly illegitimate daughter who stole her sister’s marriage.” The scene erupted in shock and astonishment. Dominic Foster rushed in from outside, his face livid as he interrupted. “Miranda, stop making a scene. How can you blame Serena for this? You two have similar builds and identical veils. If anyone’s to blame, blame yourself for oversleeping and missing the time. That’s why I picked up the wrong person.” “I just got drunk and mistook Serena for you and slept with her. As a man, I must take responsibility for Serena.” “You brought people here to make trouble because you want to switch back, right? I know you love me deeply and can’t live without me. How about this: I’ll get my marriage certificate with Serena, but I’ll only choose my heir from children you bear for me. You won’t have a title, but the entire Foster family will belong to our children. This way it won’t affect our families’ cooperation either.”

When someone is speechless to the extreme, they really will laugh. Getting a marriage certificate with an illegitimate daughter while stepping on me. And he still wants me to be his mistress and my son to be a bastard? His precarious, declining Foster family would have crumbled long ago if not for the childhood engagement arranged by the older generation and the Sutton family’s support. And he still has the audacity to want the blessing of two women serving one husband while monopolizing the Sutton family’s resources? My father was so angry he laughed instead. “The Foster family really has some nerve. After a few good years, you’ve forgotten what it felt like to be on the verge of bankruptcy? If that’s the case, I don’t mind helping you remember.” Old Mrs. Foster finally snapped out of it and hurried forward. “What on earth is going on?” My mother pulled out that stack of photos from her bag and threw them on the table. “What do you think, Mrs. Foster? If your precious son likes illegitimate daughters so much, why put on this show to humiliate my daughter? We won’t have such shameless daughters in the Sutton family. My husband will cancel all cooperation between our families when he returns. The Foster and Sutton families should cut all ties from now on.” If the Sutton family withdrew their investment, the Foster family would be left with nothing but an empty shell and debts. Old Mrs. Foster clutched her chest, her face instantly pale as she questioned Dominic repeatedly. “Tell me, what have you done?” Before Dominic could speak, Serena ran out wearing a bright red robe. She fell to her knees in front of me with a thud, crying pitifully. “Miranda, it’s all my fault. I couldn’t control my feelings and made such a foolish mistake. But Dominic and I are already together now. If you keep making a scene, you’ll embarrass the Sutton family. Even if you won’t consider me, don’t you care about the Sutton family’s reputation?” She called her own despicable shamelessness “uncontrollable feelings” and called my seeking justice “not caring about family reputation.” She really was shameless to the extreme. I laughed coldly. “You mean you drugged me, stole my marriage, and entered my bridal suite, and just by asking about it, I’m embarrassing the Sutton family?” I deliberately raised my voice, exposing all her ugly deeds. “If you really liked Dominic, why didn’t you tell me earlier? I don’t have to marry him. Why wait until our families’ wedding day to pull this lowly stunt? Who’s really trampling the Sutton family’s reputation underfoot? Or do you not care about the Sutton family at all and just want to steal what’s mine?” Serena’s face went pale, her eyes evasive. “I… I didn’t. I truly love Dominic.” All the guests at the reception were shrewd people. Her sordid thoughts were crystal clear to everyone. “Using every vile method and still calling it true love. An illegitimate daughter who doesn’t even see if she’s worthy.” “If this were my daughter, I’d drag her home and beat her to death. Stealing her sister’s husband—such a disgusting thing to do. Who knows what else she might do to destroy the whole family later.” Some people even turned their criticism directly on Dominic. “Dominic’s greed is really ugly too. Already slept with the shameless illegitimate daughter but still has the audacity to try to make the legitimate daughter his mistress. Isn’t it just because he can’t let go of the resources behind the legitimate daughter? Wanting both—treating the legitimate daughter and the Sutton family like fools. I’m too disgusted to even say those words out loud.” Old Mrs. Foster was thoroughly humiliated, trembling all over with rage. She slapped Dominic hard across the face. “You unfilial son! Kneel down right now and apologize to your father and mother-in-law, and promise to get your marriage certificate with Miranda immediately.” She took a few steps toward me, trying to hold my hand, but I deftly avoided her. Her face stiffened for a moment before filling with flattery again. “Miranda, you’ve been wronged. Whatever you want, Dominic will agree to it. Rest assured, this kind of thing will never happen again.” Dominic covered his face, his resentful eyes boring into me viciously, as if I were the one who’d ruined his good thing. He didn’t feel at all that I was the biggest victim in today’s events. “Mom, I only love Serena in this lifetime. I’ll only marry her. Miranda Sutton is arrogant and domineering, just a useless woman who bullies people relying on the Sutton family. If I marry her, she’ll drag down the entire Foster family. The position of Mrs. Foster can only belong to Serena.” “If she’s sensible, for Mr. Sutton’s sake, I’ll give her a child. But I’ll take the child to be raised by Serena. If she’s not sensible, just wait to be despised and scorned by everyone in the city. Let’s see who dares to take in a woman rejected by the Foster family!”

I watched this man coldly—someone I’d treated wholeheartedly for years. After old Mr. Foster passed away, the mediocre Dominic took over the Foster family. In just half a year, he’d offended investors and ruined the core project. Under the influence of his fair-weather friends, he’d also taken over several garbage projects. Within days, the Foster family collapsed. Accumulated debts reached hundreds of billions. Investors fled one after another. Even selling off the Foster family’s ancestral assets built up over centuries wasn’t enough to fill the hole. Some people kicked them while they were down, demanding Dominic crawl between their legs—a few tens of thousands for each crawl. It was me who, remembering our years together, helped him and encouraged him. I even convinced my father to support him. Back then, he knelt before my father, crying and swearing that if he ever betrayed me in this lifetime, he’d be struck by lightning and die a horrible death. In just two years, once he’d regained his footing in the social circle, he’d forgotten his vows. And he had the audacity to say that making me his mistress was doing me a favor. Everyone present looked at Dominic like he was insane. Unable to understand where a man who could only stand firm in business circles thanks to his fiancée got the nerve to be so provocative. To be honest, the current Foster family really belonged to the Sutton family in all but name. But Dominic didn’t care. Seeing my silence, he was certain I was heartbroken and couldn’t let him go. He pulled Serena closer by the waist, becoming even more arrogant. “Miranda Sutton, if you kneel down and apologize to Serena now, I’ll agree to let you follow me.” “If you serve me well, I’ll consider letting you move into the Foster residence. It’s not impossible for you to see the child either.” I stared at his smug face and smiled. Let Serena have this fool who couldn’t see the situation clearly. At least he’d be blocking disaster for me. My father beside me couldn’t hold back. He was so angry he laughed. “The Foster family really has stood back up, speaking with such an arrogant tone. It seems the Sutton family really can’t reach that high. As for you—” My father pointed at Serena. “The Sutton family has no daughter who steals her sister’s marriage and throws away the family’s dignity. When I get home today, I’ll remove you from the family registry and sign a severance agreement. From now on, whether you live or die has nothing to do with the Sutton family.” Serena’s eyes reddened, crying sadly. “Dad, I’m also your biological daughter. Why are you so cruel to me?” “I just tried to be with the person I love. What did I do wrong? If Dominic doesn’t like Miranda, it’s because she’s incompetent. Why should all the good things go to Miranda!” My father laughed coldly. “Fine. I’ll fulfill your wishes. Everyone present is a witness. From now on, you’re not part of the Sutton family. Take care of yourself.” “Someone, go retrieve all of Miranda’s dowry!” “Fifty chests of cash, fifteen loads of jewelry, three Porsches, a 20% equity agreement, property deeds for five Bay Garden villas—bring everything back to the Sutton family without missing a single item.” Everyone gasped when they heard about my dowry, all looking at Dominic like he was an idiot. Serena screamed on the spot. “No! This is all my dowry!” My mother slapped her across the face. “Stole Miranda’s marriage and still want to steal the dowry? Dream on. These were all prepared by the Sutton family for Miranda. What are you? If you want a dowry, go ask Mrs. Wilson for it.” The bodyguards were about to leave with the dowry when Dominic blocked their way. “Wait. If you dare take the dowry away, half the Sutton family will be mine by tomorrow.” He looked at my father. “When our two families signed the prenuptial agreement, it only said ‘Sutton family daughter’ without naming anyone specifically. I followed the contract obediently, promising to treat the Sutton family daughter well for life. Serena hasn’t suffered any grievances. What you’re doing is breaking the contract.” He pulled out the prenuptial agreement signed just a week ago. The lawyer read the terms aloud to everyone present. “If Party B, Dominic Foster, is unfaithful to the Sutton family daughter, he leaves with nothing. Conversely, if the Sutton family withdraws the dowry, it’s considered a breach of contract, and Party A must compensate Party B with 20% of the shares.” The entire room fell deathly silent. “Impossible! How could I have signed such an agreement!” My father’s face turned pale instantly. He snatched the contract. The lawyer pointed to a line of small print at the very end. Dominic smiled and gestured with his chin. On the big screen, footage of my father personally signing appeared. “Mr. Sutton, you’re someone whose every move shakes the city’s business circles. You wouldn’t play dumb and pretend not to remember, would you? But pretending won’t help. This contract is stamped with your private seal. It has legal force. If you’re not afraid of embarrassment in court, go ahead and take it.” My father was so angry he clutched his chest, gasping violently, nearly passing out. My mother’s eyes were bloodshot. She wanted to get justice for me but was forced into speechlessness. Serena twisted her waist and nestled into Dominic’s embrace, smiling radiantly. “Miranda, it’s fine if I can’t be a Sutton family daughter. If you’re willing to kowtow and apologize to me now, maybe if I’m in a good mood, I’ll put in a good word for you with Dominic and abstain at the shareholders’ meeting. Otherwise, Dad will lose his chairman position, and those old foxes in the company devour people without leaving bones.” “I’ll accept this dowry graciously. Bring it all inside.” The Foster family servants roughly shoved past me. All the dowry was about to be carried back inside. My mother tried to stop them in desperation but was pushed to the ground by the Foster family people acting like lackeys. Serena raised an eyebrow. “Madam, this is Foster family private business. If you insist on getting involved and get bumped or bruised, you can only blame yourself.” I helped my mother up, watching the pair of dogs coldly. Dominic curled his lips with a condescending expression. “Without this dowry, you won’t even be qualified to buy yourself a husband. For the sake of how you used to chase after me pathetically, come to the Foster family and serve as Serena’s servant for three years. I’ll consider giving you a son to rely on.” Seeing me ignore him, Dominic roughly grabbed my shoulder and shoved me in front of Serena, then kicked my knee. Just as he was about to use brute force to make me kowtow— The tightly closed conference hall doors were violently pushed open. “Someone reported that the Foster family illegally seized massive private assets from the Sutton family. Who is Dominic Foster?”

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It had been a week since I last submitted a reimbursement request, and Adrian Hunt finally noticed. He tossed a black card at me with a look of contempt. “I’ve already covered your father’s dialysis. Stop bothering me with this petty crap.” “I know your bottomless pit isn’t easy to fill, but you don’t have to be so desperate about it.” What he didn’t know was that by the time I caught that card, I’d already signed my organ donor papers and the divorce agreement. As I walked out the door, I was still wearing the same faded, pilled hoodie he’d tossed me five years ago. No one would believe that Mrs. Hunt, wife of the man who controlled half the entertainment industry, had to photograph receipts for five-dollar packs of pads and send them to his secretary for approval. All because he was convinced that someone like me, a gold digger in his eyes, would turn rotten the second she had cash in hand. But a week ago, when my father went into kidney failure and needed an emergency transfusion, I knelt and begged him for thirty thousand dollars. His secretary deliberately canceled my transfer request, smiling as she said she wanted to help me break my “insatiable” habits. Adrian never knew I swallowed that humiliation just to keep my father alive in his private hospital. Now that my father had been unplugged for non-payment and his ashes scattered, there was no reason for me to stay and play his obedient dog.

My phone vibrated. Adrian’s message popped up on the screen, dripping with condescending charity. “I’ve resumed your father’s treatment. From now on, behave yourself. And stop lying to squeeze more money out of me.” “I know it’s not easy coming from the gutter, but my money isn’t that easy to scam.” I stared at those two lines with a strange kind of calm. I typed back one word. “Okay.” I set down my phone and signed the divorce papers in front of me. Adrian probably thought I hadn’t asked him to reimburse any expenses for three days because I was throwing a tantrum. What he’d call giving him the “silent treatment.” After all, for the past three years, I’d lived like a dog for Dad’s medical bills. I had no income whatsoever. Adrian wouldn’t let me work. Said it was embarrassing for his wife to be seen in public. But he never gave me money for the house either. Every cent I spent had to be approved through the company. Groceries? Approval. Sanitary pads? Approval. Even subway fare, a couple of dollars, had to come with a receipt uploaded. The one approving it all was his personal secretary, Victoria Snow. That woman who’d been by his side since college. Three days ago, the hospital issued a critical condition notice. Dad had a sudden brain hemorrhage and needed immediate surgery. Two hundred thousand dollars. For Adrian, that was barely the cost of a bottle of wine. I called him frantically. After a dozen tries, someone finally answered. But it was Victoria who picked up. “Clara, Adrian’s in a meeting. What’s so urgent?” I couldn’t care about anything else. I begged her through tears. “Victoria, let me talk to Adrian. My dad’s dying, I need two hundred thousand for surgery!” Victoria laughed lightly. “Clara, you know the company rules.” “Two hundred thousand isn’t a small amount. You need to go through the approval process.” “Adrian hates people who don’t follow rules. If you ask for money directly like this, he’ll be angry.” “Hurry and submit an approval request in the system. I’ll approve it as soon as I see it.” The call ended. My hands shook so badly I could barely hold my phone as I filled out the form in that goddamn approval system. Reason: Dad’s surgery fees. Amount: $200,000. Attachment: Critical condition notice. Submit. I stared at the screen. One second, two seconds. Ten minutes later, my phone rang. Not a transfer confirmation. A rejection notice from the approval system. Rejected by: Victoria Snow. Rejection reason: Attachment format unclear. Please rescan and reupload. Every drop of blood in my body turned to ice.

I took new photos. My hands were shaking, making the pictures slightly blurry. I took another one. Every second was a matter of life and death. I submitted again. Five minutes later, rejected. Rejection reason: Requested amount too large, requires detailed expense breakdown, accurate to individual medication prices. I was going insane. The surgery hadn’t even happened yet, the doctor was still in emergency treatment-where was I supposed to get an itemized breakdown accurate to individual prices? I messaged Victoria on SnapChat. “Please, approve it first. This is life-saving money!” “I’ll provide the details later. Victoria, this is a human life!” Victoria sent back a cute emoji. “Clara, it’s not that I won’t help you.” “That’s just how the finance system works. It’s difficult for me too.” “You’ve always been too careless. You can’t bring those bad habits from poverty into a wealthy family.” “Adrian said he needs to teach you discipline.” I knelt outside the operating room, phone in hand. Like a mangy dog with its spine torn out. I sent Adrian texts, voice messages. “Adrian, I’m begging you.” “As long as you give me the money, I’ll listen to whatever you say from now on.” “I won’t make trouble anymore. I won’t be jealous of Victoria anymore. Please, please save my dad.” Half an hour later. Adrian finally sent back a voice message. The background was noisy, his voice carrying the irritation of someone slightly drunk. “Do what Victoria says.” “Stop bothering me.” At that moment, the operating room light went out. The doctor emerged, removed his mask, and shook his head regretfully. “I’m sorry. If the payment had come through just ten minutes earlier so we could have administered the medication…” I didn’t hear the rest. I only felt the world suddenly go quiet. That old man who’d raised me through hardship, who picked through trash to pay for my education- He’d died in this prosperous city because of an approval form with “incorrect formatting.” As his body gradually grew cold, so did my love for Adrian. For three days, I handled the aftermath. Cremation, burial. I didn’t tell Adrian. Because there was no point. Wasn’t he afraid I’d scam him for money? From now on, I wouldn’t ask him for a single cent. I looked at the “charity text” Adrian had just sent. A smile curved my lips. He thought I was playing games to get his attention again. Little did he know-this was the last bit of dignity I was giving him. A red dot suddenly appeared on my social media. Victoria had posted something. The photo showed high-end Japanese cuisine and a man’s hand wearing a Patek Philippe watch on his wrist-the same one I’d once wanted to give Adrian. Caption: “Thanks to my boss for bringing me to such a nice restaurant. Some people only know how to beg for money. So annoying.” I liked the post. This was the first time I’d ever liked one of Victoria’s posts. The next second, Adrian’s call came through. He’d probably seen my like and thought I was being passive-aggressive. I didn’t answer. He sent a message instead. “Clara, who are you being sarcastic for?” “Don’t make people misunderstand Victoria. She’s just doing her job.” “Delete that like immediately, or I’ll cancel your card.” Doing her job? Doing her job murdering people? I laughed. I opened that post and left a comment below it. “Miss Snow climbed to the top by withholding life-saving money from the boss’s wife. What a windfall. Hope you two are locked together forever-bitch and dog, happily ever after.” Post. Block. Turn off phone. The world went quiet.

I started packing. Actually, there wasn’t much to pack. I’d lived in this so-called home for three years. The things that belonged to me were pitifully few. The walk-in closet was huge. The left side was full of Adrian’s custom-tailored suits. The right side had several locked cabinets-for jewelry and designer bags. Victoria held both the keys and fingerprint access. Every time I attended a party, I had to ask Victoria’s permission like I was borrowing props. After using them, I had to return them. Once, I accidentally got the hem of a dress dirty. Victoria made me write a three-thousand-word self-criticism in front of the servants. She also docked next month’s “living expenses.” Adrian just watched from the side and said coolly, “Victoria’s trying to teach you a lesson. These things are expensive. You couldn’t afford to replace them.” Right. I couldn’t afford it. I was an orphan. A “nobody” in their eyes. I opened my little corner. Inside hung a few pilled sweaters. Several faded jeans. The only decent thing was the white T-shirt I’d worn when I married into this family three years ago. Back then, I wasn’t yet married to Adrian. I was Northwestern University’s youngest physics graduate student, a promising genius. Adrian said he liked that cool, aloof quality about me. He said, “Clara, marry me. I’ll give you a home.” I believed him. I gave up my chance to study abroad, ignored my mentor’s pleas to stay. I became a housewife, turned myself into a joke in this gilded cage. I took off the “cheap” hoodie Adrian despised. I put on that yellowed white T-shirt. The jeans were a bit loose now. Over these three years, I’d lost a full twenty pounds. I pulled out a worn suitcase. I packed a few books, some photos, and Dad’s urn. Nothing else. Everything in this mansion had nothing to do with me. I walked down the stairs. The housekeeper Emma was polishing a vase. Seeing me with my suitcase, she rolled her eyes. “Mrs. Hunt, running away from home again?” “Mr. Hunt said if you walk out that door this time, don’t expect to come back.” “Also, Mr. Hunt wants soup for dinner. Don’t forget to make it.” In this house, even the servants looked down on me. Because they knew I didn’t even have the authority to pay their wages. In fact, my “allowance” was less than their salaries. I stopped and looked at Emma. “Make the soup yourself. Or have Victoria make it.” Emma froze, apparently never having seen me this defiant. “What’s that attitude? Believe me, I’ll tell Mr. Hunt…” “Go ahead.” I pulled my suitcase and walked out the villa’s front door without looking back. The sunlight was blinding. I raised my hand to shield my eyes. Three years. I’d finally walked out of this tomb.

Adrian came back faster than I’d expected. Probably saw my comment and was furious. Not to comfort me. To seek justice for his precious darling. I couldn’t get a cab at the villa complex entrance. A black Maybach screeched to a halt in front of me with an ear-piercing brake sound. The door opened. Adrian stepped out, his face frozen with anger. Victoria followed behind him, her eyes red-rimmed, looking like she’d suffered a terrible injustice. “Clara, what the hell is wrong with you?” Adrian grabbed my wrist. “Apologize to Victoria immediately!” “What nonsense are you spouting on social media? What good does ruining someone’s reputation do you?” I looked at that face that once made my heart flutter. Now I only felt disgusted. “Nonsense?” I shook off his hand and looked coldly at Victoria. “Am I talking nonsense? Doesn’t Miss Snow know the truth?” “Three days ago, my dad was on the operating table waiting for money to save his life.” “Miss Snow rejected my application because the format was wrong and the amount was too large.” “Does Mr. Hunt know about this?” Adrian froze for a moment. He clearly didn’t know the details. He only knew I wanted money and Victoria said it didn’t comply with regulations. He instinctively looked at Victoria. Victoria’s body trembled, tears instantly streaming down. “Adrian… I didn’t…” “I was just following company finance procedures.” “And… and Clara’s tone was very aggressive at the time. I didn’t realize it was life-saving money…” “Besides, I had finance prepare it later. Clara just didn’t submit again.” What a sharp tongue. What a convenient excuse. “Didn’t submit again.” The person was already dead. Should I have submitted it for the King of Hell to review? After listening, Adrian’s frown deepened. He turned to look at me, his eyes full of disappointment. “Clara, you’ve really let me down.” “Victoria was just doing her job. Do you have to be so vicious?” “Doesn’t your dad have chronic conditions? How could it be that serious?” “Over this little money, you slander Victoria online. Where’s your upbringing?” Upbringing? Lecture a murderer about upbringing? I laughed bitterly. “Adrian, you’re hopelessly blind.” “Since you trust her so much, we have nothing more to say.” “The divorce papers are on the study desk. Sign them.” I grabbed my suitcase to leave. Adrian, enraged by my attitude, snatched my suitcase and slammed it to the ground. The case was already old. The zipper burst open. Contents scattered everywhere. A few worn clothes. Some books. And a black wooden box. The urn rolled once, twice, then stopped at Adrian’s feet. Adrian froze. He stared at the box, his pupils contracting sharply. “What is this?” I bent down and carefully picked up the urn, brushing off the dust. “This is my dad. Adrian. Are you satisfied now?”

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My husband Ethan’s new mistress is an independent career woman. One night, Ethan came home drunk and grabbed my calloused hand. “You’re both women, but Lucia just got promoted to CFO. Look at you. You’re like a housekeeper.” I ignored him and kept being a housewife. Lucia turned down eight sugar daddies and posted a manifesto online about female independence. Ethan liked it and smirked at me. “Look how independent Lucia is! And you? Stripped naked and climbed into my bed for a few thousand bucks back then.” He thought I’d take it, the way I always did. Instead, I took off my wedding ring and said calmly. “If she’s better than me in every way, why don’t you just marry her?” I paused. “I’m serious. Let’s get divorced.” When I said those words clearly, the smile on Ethan’s face froze completely. Then he laughed. That knowing laugh. “There’s one more thing you can’t compete with her on.” “Lucia has ambition. She has assets. You? You’ll depend on me for the rest of your life. You don’t even have the guts to say the word divorce.” My fingers trembled violently. I  still remember the night my father drugged me and sent me to Ethan’s bed to cover a business debt. Ethan and I were in a vague relationship back then. He’d even bought an engagement ring. But the morning I woke up, my father burst into the room, forced Ethan to “take responsibility,” and walked out satisfied with five thousand dollars in hand. That was the moment my long, passionate youth romance with Ethan died. On the day he was forced to marry me, Ethan announced to everyone that I was a gold digger. Worth exactly five thousand three hundred dollars. Later, when my mother was seriously ill, he had people bring over three safes full of coupons. “You should learn to be self-reliant. My wife isn’t supposed to be useless trash who only knows how to ask for money.” That’s when I finally understood. Everything I’d given him, sincerely, was worth nothing. My expression was unusually different. As Ethan hesitated to come forward, the doorbell suddenly rang. When Lucia appeared at the door, Ethan visibly panicked for a moment. Because he had promised me he would never bring his affairs in front of me, no matter who he was with. Clearly, Lucia was the exception. The girl held a thick stack of receipts and spoke helplessly. “Mrs. Shaw, your recent spending through the company has been excessive. Much of it is completely unnecessary.” “Mr. Shaw works so hard running this company. You should at least be considerate of him, don’t you think?” My face turned grim, my chest felt stuffed with cotton. Ever since Lucia joined the company, all my expenses had to go through her approval. The medical and nursing costs for my in-laws often went unanswered for half a month. When I went to Ethan to complain, I was only compared to her and told I wasn’t as frugal as Lucia. He said I only knew how to ask for money. But I spent almost nothing on myself. The dress I was wearing was from three years ago. Ethan flipped through the pile of receipts with obvious disgust. “Lucia’s right. Go to the company tomorrow and return the expensive items. You really don’t need such nice things.” My fingertips dug into my palms. “These receipts aren’t mine.” As soon as I spoke, Lucia assumed I was giving her attitude and ran off crying pitifully. Ethan stared in the direction the woman left, not noticing he’d knocked over the kettle, spilling water on my leg. “From now on, Lucia will be our household manager. You should learn from her!” With that, Ethan slammed the door and left. I lifted the fabric stuck to my leg. The skin was alarmingly swollen. But he couldn’t see it at all. I simply treated the wound, then called a lawyer. “Prepare divorce papers for me.”

At the hospital getting bandaged, I stared in distress at the bill for two hundred sixty-three dollars. I said apologetically, “I’ll borrow it right away.” The window clerk’s jaw dropped. Ethan’s wife could easily buy the entire hospital, yet she needed to borrow money for medical bills. I contacted old friends before paying the fee. As soon as I left the hospital, Ethan texted me. Demanding I return everything. When I brought the “valuables” I’d bought over the years to the company, the employees whispered around me. “They say money follows love. Who knew Mrs. Shaw would be so cheap?” “If she had even half of Miss Lucia’s ambition, she wouldn’t have ended up like this.” “Her first night was only worth five thousand. This pile of junk is worth more than she is.” … I forced myself to stay calm and not lose control. Lucia arrived with a group of department employees. She glanced at the bag in my hands and fanned herself in disgust. “Mrs. Shaw, you spent so much money on just these things? I don’t believe it.” The black plastic bag contained a few pieces of jewelry worth less than a thousand dollars, bought to match Ethan for banquets. The rest were clothes washed until faded and high heels with broken heels. Besides that, there were adult diapers for my in-laws and empty medicine bottles. This was what my years were worth. I handed over the house keys as well. “If you don’t believe me, you can search.” Lucia eagerly took the keys and treasured them in her bag. Then she examined the clothes I was wearing. “You bought these with Mr. Shaw’s money too, right? They’re designer brands. Mrs. Shaw, please take them off too.” Instantly, employees burst into laughter. I tried to calm my emotions. “I can’t possibly-” “If Lucia tells you to strip, strip. It’s not like you haven’t done it before.” I looked up in shock. When I realized the voice came from Ethan, all the blood in my body seemed to flow backward. In college, I’d stumbled into a nightclub where three or four drunk men threatened me with knives to strip or they wouldn’t let me go. I’d only exposed half my shoulder when Ethan arrived with a bottle, smashing them blind on the spot. “Look at her one more time and you won’t see tomorrow’s sunrise!” Now, he was telling me to strip in front of all the employees. I laughed with my eyes closed, then bit my teeth and removed my scarf. Then I unbuttoned my shirt. My bra was faintly visible underneath. Everyone gasped. But my movements didn’t stop. Until only one piece remained on my body. “Enough!” Ethan frowned with a complex expression and roughly threw his jacket over. “If you’re not ashamed, I am!” Ignoring the mocking gazes around me, I handed over the divorce papers I’d prepared. “I’ve returned everything I should. Let’s get divorced.” Ethan’s form froze, then he signed his name with a grand flourish. “Don’t think this trick will scare me. I’m giving you three days-I’ll wait for you to crawl back begging me!” Leaving those words, the man turned and went back to his office, slamming the door shut. Lucia used the tip of her heel to hook all the clothes I’d taken off and flick them into the trash. I grabbed the agreement papers, half-naked, and walked into the elevator under a hallway full of stares. As I left the building, my mother called, her voice shaking. “Aurora! Ethan auctioned off my only house!”

Immediately after, my mother’s crying stopped abruptly, as if struck by something heavy. When I rushed over, my mother was already pinned under a solid wood cabinet, barely alive. “Aurora, don’t beg him anymore.” Tears covered my numb face. I held the gold bracelet Ethan gave me on our wedding day and begged them to stop. The bracelet was ruthlessly knocked away. “You think we’re fools? This is gold-plated junk! You think I collect scrap metal?” My brain buzzed. The crisp sound of the bracelet hitting the ground struck my heart. So in Ethan’s heart, I was only worth gold-plated metal. After sending my mother to the emergency room, I called Ethan in despair. “What right do you have to touch my mother’s ancestral home? Your people put her in the hospital!” Ethan’s leisurely tone carried self-righteousness. “Who told your mother to slander Lucia online as a mistress? Lucia works so hard for the company-why should someone who sold her daughter slander her?” “Besides, you’re cursing your own mother to scare me. I’m not buying it.” “If you really want the ancestral home back, come get it at the auction yourself.” With that, he hung up. The doctor came over to notify me. “Due to massive pressure on her internal organs, the elderly woman just passed away.” I collapsed powerlessly to the floor. I had no more tears to cry. When I arrived at the auction, Lucia was dripping in gold and jewelry, holding Ethan’s arm like the legitimate Mrs. Shaw. Any random gemstone necklace would have been enough to cover my mother’s surgery costs. Disdainful gazes fell on me. “She’s actually Mrs. Shaw? I never expected her to be so shabby!” “Those hands are rougher than my housekeeper’s. If you didn’t know better, you’d think a housekeeper wandered in by mistake.” “Mr. Shaw obviously knows she’s too embarrassing, so he brought Miss Lucia to the auction instead. He just bought Miss Lucia three million dollars’ worth of jewelry!” … These mockeries meant nothing compared to my mother’s only remaining possession. I found Ethan in a daze and said numbly. “My mother died. Give me back the ancestral home.” The man slowly extinguished his cigarette, his face full of disgust. “You really do talk nonsense.” “Too bad I can’t return it, because Lucia just sold it to a homeless man.” I looked up in shock. He knew my mother had protected that ancestral home with her life to prevent my father from selling it. Lucia walked over with a magnanimous expression. “The homeless man at the entrance was so pitiful. I was just doing charity in Mrs. Shaw’s name. Otherwise…” Then she leaned close to my ear and whispered. “Otherwise your mother wouldn’t have been crushed to death.” The woman’s hideous face kept magnifying before my eyes. I suddenly remembered the earring I’d found at the house earlier-it was the one missing from her ear! In an instant, rage completely burned away my rationality. I gritted my teeth and swung my hand, slapping her down the stairs.

As Lucia screamed and tumbled down, everyone gasped. “Aurora Lambert, are you a shrew?!” Ethan quickened his pace down the stairs to help the woman up, his gaze ice-cold. Lucia collapsed weakly in the man’s arms, coughing continuously. “I don’t know how I offended Mrs. Shaw. Usually when Mrs. Shaw scolds me, I never tell anyone, but at least don’t embarrass Mr. Shaw, sob sob sob…” As she spoke, she inadvertently revealed bruises on her arms and thighs, looking pitiful. Onlookers cast strange glances. Ethan stood up and suddenly slapped me, his eyes nearly splitting with rage. “Where are the manners the Shaw family taught you? Get down there and apologize now!” My eyes turned blood red. “Impossible! She killed my mother. Are you blind?!” Ethan acted as if he hadn’t heard me and called the demolition crew in front of me. Gritting his teeth hard, he threatened, “Apologize!” I shook my head in horror, imagining the ancestral home reduced to rubble. “No, don’t!” Under Ethan’s threatening gaze, I staggered up and walked before Lucia. “I’m sorry!” The woman smugly assumed a victor’s posture. Ethan put his arm around her waist and looked down at me. “Here’s five dollars. Go get the deed from the homeless man.” After saying this, Ethan carefully carried the woman to the medical office. I picked up the crumpled five-dollar bill in disgrace. The guests laughed uproariously. “She climbed into bed for five thousand back then, and now she’s looking for a homeless man for five dollars. How cheap.” I staggered to my feet, listening to these insults. Ethan, I no longer care about the fake love you gave me. Just as I turned to leave, a message appeared on Lucia’s deliberately dropped phone. “Received. We’ll begin demolition immediately!” My heart sank sharply. I pushed everyone aside recklessly and rushed out of the auction. Ethan looked deeply at my retreating back, about to call out when Lucia interrupted him. “My ankle hurts so much.” The man withdrew his gaze and quickened his pace into the medical office. When I reached the ancestral home, workers were pushing down the surrounding walls with excavators. “Stop! I’m telling you to stop!” The rumbling machinery completely drowned out my pleas. Just then, a pair of greasy, filthy hands grabbed me and threw me aside. “This is the house I paid for. Who told you to demolish it? Give me back my money!” The homeless man threw rocks at my head crazily, each one heavier than the last. My screams faded as blood covered my eyes. One last blow, and I collapsed to the ground, spent. Ethan turned down Lucia’s dinner invitation and drove to the family estate instead. As he stepped out of the car, a homeless man nearby was fiddling with a blood-stained five-dollar bill, muttering to himself. “That woman? Tough as nails. Maybe she’ll give me a fat son!” Ethan froze mid-step. He grabbed the man by the collar, his eyes wild. “Who the hell are you talking about?!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “361065”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #魔幻Magic #惊悚Thriller #重生Reborn

My fiancé is the youngest professor at the university. Thoughtful, gentle, everyone admires him. When I was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and had only ten days of memory left, he brought a female student home. That night, through the crack in the door, I watched her throw herself into his arms. He didn’t push her away. The next day, I asked about the lipstick stain. He just smiled and called it a misunderstanding. On the third day, someone on a motorcycle knocked me down. He said I was being paranoid. On the fourth, she poured scalding soup on my hand. He stepped in front of her. “How did you become so cruel?” Today is the fifth day. I have less than seventy-two hours of memory left. He just took a call at my hospital bedside. “Don’t be scared, Erica. I’ll be right there.” After he left, I pulled out the IV needle and wrote on the first page of my notebook the last sentence I’ll ever remember in this life. “Don’t forgive Richard.” Later, I really did forget him. But he stood at my door holding roses, his eyes red. “Please forgive me.”

Lauren POV Richard is the youngest university professor. He has a fiancée with memory decline. That’s me. On the tenth day of my countdown, he brought Erica home late at night. “Professor, coming over so late… won’t we wake Lauren?” Erica’s voice was soft, laced with just the right amount of concern. “It’s fine,” Richard whispered. “She took her medicine. She’ll sleep through anything.” But I hadn’t taken my medicine tonight. I lay still in the darkness of the master bedroom, eyes closed, listening to every sound outside the door. On the nightstand sat today’s diagnosis: early-stage Alzheimer’s, rapidly deteriorating, irreversible. The doctor said my remaining lucid time could be counted in days. Conservatively. In the last ten days of my memory, Richard chose to fill them with someone else. Fine. At least before I forgot everything, I could finally see for myself what this “gifted but troublesome” student of his actually looked like. The bedroom door eased open. Richard tiptoed in and grabbed the thin blanket at the foot of the bed. Out of habit, he leaned over to tuck me in, his movements as gentle as always. But when he got close, the sharp bite of whiskey mixed with some unfamiliar vanilla perfume invaded my lungs without warning. Suffocating. Smothering. He turned and left, leaving the door ajar behind him. The warm yellow light from the living room immediately sliced through the crack, falling precisely on the open diagnosis report on the nightstand. But he didn’t see it. His attention, his gaze, even his heart had long been occupied by someone else. Their conversation drifted in without any restraint. “I’m hungry…” Erica’s voice was sweet and soft, dripping with practiced coquettishness and a familiarity that felt almost natural.. “Make me something to eat, okay?” But how would Erica know that Richard hadn’t cooked in years? Back in college, we were drowning in student loans. So poor we could barely scrape by. Richard went to class during the day and worked restaurant kitchens at night and on weekends. The dirtiest, most exhausting jobs. He’d come home with his hands bleached white from soap, wrinkled, his palms and fingertips covered in burns and knife cuts. With those hands, he earned money cent by cent, saving it all to put both of us through our degrees. I wanted to work part-time at a coffee shop, but Richard refused. Under the dim streetlights, he took my hand and kissed each finger one by one. “Lauren,” his voice was low and hoarse, “we were both struggling before. Now that we’re together, I’ll bear the hardship alone. You’re going to be a painter. You need to take care of your hands.” Throughout those four years of college, my somewhat rough hands were actually nurtured white and delicate by him. Later, the night he got his doctoral acceptance, we squeezed together on our apartment’s narrow balcony, sharing an employee meal sandwich Richard had brought back from the restaurant. Eyes red, he swore that once he became a tenured professor and life got better, he’d never set foot in a kitchen again. Never touch those greasy fumes. “What do you want to eat?” In the living room, Richard’s voice came with a laugh, cutting through my memories. His tone even carried a hint of performative tenderness. “I’m going to show off my skills.” He was casually, almost proudly, dissecting that period of hardship for another girl to hear. The one he’d sworn to bury. But I still remembered. Not long ago, when my gastritis flared up in the middle of the night and I was drenched in cold sweat from the pain, Richard’s eyes went red with worry. He stayed up all night. Weakly, I asked if he could make me some oatmeal. He was quiet for a long time. Finally, he just held me, his voice tired and hollow. “Lauren, I really… don’t want to do those things anymore. I’ve forgotten how.” Forgotten? From the kitchen came the sounds of efficiency. The pan heating. Butter sliding in with a sizzle. Every sound was like an ice-tempered blade, precisely piercing my eardrums and heart. He hadn’t forgotten. He was even still skilled at it.

Lauren POV The aroma of the omelet quickly filled the air, mixed with Erica’s undisguised delighted praise. “Richard, this smells amazing! You’re so talented!” She no longer called him Professor, but used his name directly. “Eat up,” Richard’s voice carried a barely perceptible tenderness. “After you finish, remember to organize the data from those papers.” “Richard,” Erica’s tone held some dissatisfaction. “Tomorrow’s the weekend. Can’t you let me rest?” “Behave.” Richard’s voice was full of laughter, carrying a flirtatious tone. “Your Lauren is still sleeping.” I let out a cold laugh. So he still remembered I was in the room, but this reminder sounded more like part of their flirtation. That aroma and those laughs were like fine needles, stabbing every inch of my skin with unbearable pain. I propped myself up, wanting to get out of bed and shut that crack of light completely, isolating everything outside. The moment I sat up, my gaze pierced through the door crack and froze on the living room. Under the warm yellow light, Richard’s hand came to rest on Erica’s head, gently tousling her hair. His gaze was soft, focused, filled with that particular tenderness, the kind you give a small creature that trusts you completely. “You cook for Lauren every day? She’s one lucky woman.” Erica’s words came out muffled, her mouth still full. Hard to tell if it was envy or jealousy. Lucky? I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d eaten something he actually cooked himself. “You talk too much.” Richard’s scolding was light, weightless. Even as he said it, he reached out and brushed back a strand of hair that had nearly fallen into her plate. His fingertips grazed her earlobe. But the look on his face I’d never seen it. Not even when we were most in love. The suspicion I’d been suppressing, afraid to examine too closely, was now brutally nailed before my eyes by this crystal-clear scene, beyond any argument. Why? How could a man who kissed me good morning every day and said “I love you” before bed so easily give his love to someone else? A violent headache struck without warning. A voice screamed in my mind: Get out there! Throw her out! Now! But my body felt as heavy as if trapped in a quagmire. Even my fingers were difficult to move. I desperately gathered strength to prop myself up, finally making it to the door, my hand landing on the cold doorknob. Just as I was about to force out words, Erica suddenly stood up from the sofa. Like an uninhibited cat, she sprang up without warning, pressed her hands on Richard’s shoulders, pushed him back against the sofa cushions, then leaned down and kissed him. My breathing stopped. I couldn’t see Richard’s expression. I only saw that he didn’t refuse. His hand paused in the air for a moment, then slowly, gently settled on Erica’s waist. Five seconds, ten seconds… Time stretched infinitely, each second a slow execution of my nerves. That hand on Erica’s waist even tightened slightly, drawing her closer to him. So there was no need for speculation, no need for excuses or justifications. The answer was laid bare before me. Perhaps there was no need to rush out anymore. This home that once belonged to him and me would soon have a new mistress. And what I was about to lose wasn’t just my memory. I quietly closed the door. I slumped against it, sinking to the cold floor. No hysteria, no sobbing. Only cold, hollow despair spreading from the deepest part of my heart, freezing my blood. Trembling, I pulled open the deepest drawer of the nightstand, fumbled for the white pill bottle, unscrewed it, poured all the pills into my palm, and swallowed them all at once. In the last instant before consciousness was completely swallowed by endless darkness, my extremely blurred hearing caught the nauseating sticky sounds of kissing from outside the door, and their lowered conversation: “Mm… Richard, just now, what was that sound?” Richard’s voice was slightly hoarse, mixed with the soft rustle of fabric. “Probably just the wind.”

Lauren POV When I woke up the next day, I found myself lying on the floor. That diagnosis page had somehow fallen beside my hand. According to the doctor, starting today, I had only nine days of memory left. I hadn’t died. I’d just been unconscious all night. But why was last night’s scene still branded in my mind, so painfully clear, as if I’d never forget it? I didn’t dare open the door, didn’t dare verify whether any traces of last night remained in the living room. Just then, Richard pushed the door open. I hastily shoved the diagnosis under the bed. “Lauren, why are you sitting on the floor?” He spoke while bending down to lift me up and place me back on the bed. He took my hand and lowered his head to kiss the back of it, his new stubble scratching my skin with a slight itch. “I’m sorry, I pulled an all-nighter on the project yesterday. Did you sleep well? What did the doctor say? Is there anything you want to eat? I’ll have the housekeeper prepare…” A string of concerns rushed at me. For a moment I felt dazed. Through the door that wasn’t fully closed, I saw the living room was as tidy as usual, as if everything last night had been nothing but an absurd delusion from my illness. “The doctor said I’m doing well.” I lowered my eyes, my voice as soft as a murmur. “Today… I want to eat breakfast you’ve made.” Richard ruffled my hair, his tone carrying some helpless reproach. “Lauren, look-you forgot again… I’ll have the housekeeper make it for you, okay?” “Never mind.” I pushed away his hand, but the motion froze mid-air. Below the collar of his shirt, a vivid lipstick mark stabbed at my eyes. “What’s this?” My finger trembled as I pointed at it. “It’s nothing.” Richard’s tone was casual. “Yesterday, Erica, that graduate student I’m always talking about, we were celebrating the project’s progress and she accidentally smudged it during a group hug. She even insisted on washing it for me, but she’s still paying off her student loans. How could she afford dry cleaning? I’ll introduce you to her sometime. You might like her.” “What if I don’t like her?” I heard my voice turn cold as ice. Richard first froze, then pulled me into a tight embrace, his chin resting on top of my head, his voice muffled with deliberate reassurance. “If you don’t like her, you don’t like her. She’s really… just my student anyway. You just need to like me.” “Richard,” I said calmly, leaning against him, “let’s break up.” Richard’s brow furrowed, as if he couldn’t process how the topic had shifted so quickly. “Why? Because of that lipstick mark? That was a misunderstanding.” I turned my face away, avoiding his scrutinizing gaze, my voice dropping. “Last night I… dreamed you were cheating on me.” Richard’s whole body suddenly stiffened, as if instantly frozen. But the rigidity lasted only the briefest instant. Then he let out a breath, his tense shoulders sagging slightly. Next, he released me, his eyes rapidly reddening, his voice tinged with panic and pain. “How could that be? Lauren, it was just a nightmare. I told you I’d love you forever, only you… Don’t say things like that anymore, okay? You know I can’t bear it…” “But I’ve forgotten.” I lifted my head, looking into his eyes, enunciating each word. “Richard, someday I’ll completely forget that you love me, even forget that I love you. While I still remember, let’s part on good terms.” What I actually wanted to say was: while I haven’t yet caught the lie in person, while I haven’t yet shredded this last bit of dignity, let’s part on good terms. I didn’t want my final memories to be filled entirely with pain and degradation. “Don’t…” Richard’s voice trembled uncontrollably. He pulled me tight again, his arms straining with force, almost as if trying to meld me into his bones and blood, as if that could somehow keep me. “We’ve been together so long. I can’t live without you, and you can’t live without me, right? If you forget, I’ll just stay by your side to remind you, a thousand times, ten thousand times…” His embrace was so forceful, his voice so choked. It sounded deeply devoted. But the faint, sweet vanilla-fruit scent clinging to the shirt pressed against my cheek, thread by thread, pervasive and inescapable, seemed to silently remind me: last night was not a delusion, not a nightmare. It was evidence that he’d embraced someone else. Perhaps Richard still loved me, but he’d also fallen in love with someone else.

Lauren POV Richard stayed home all weekend. But whenever the person saved as “Dummy” sent a message, he’d reply instantly. When the phone rang, he never delayed. “If you’re busy, just go to work. I don’t need company.” I said with my back to him. Each time he returned from a call, Richard would placate me. “Lauren, Erica is eager to learn. As her professor, I can’t discourage a student’s enthusiasm, right?” “I’ll take you to campus on Monday,” he paused, “and introduce you to her properly.” I hummed in agreement. That Monday, I went early. After graduation, I’d never returned to our alma mater. Everything on campus had changed. Those corners that once held memories of Richard and me had long since vanished. I had no choice but to go to his office to wait. Before I even reached the door, muffled laughter drifted out, mixed with that familiar, coquettish voice. “Professor, how can you call me dumb!” It was Erica. I stopped outside the half-open door. Inside, Erica was leaning intimately close to Richard’s side. Then, she quite naturally picked up the iced Americano from his desk and took a sip through the straw he’d used. The next second, as if chilled, she pouted and whimpered. Richard immediately leaned in, naturally reaching out to wipe the coffee from the corner of her mouth, the gesture as intimate as if treating a lover. “Not cold anymore, not cold anymore.” For the first time, I realized a person’s happiness could actually be heard in their tone. I pushed the door open. Erica jumped up in alarm, stumbling backward and landing on the floor in her panic. Richard didn’t help her. He walked straight toward me, somewhat reproachfully. “Why did you come early?” “I shouldn’t have come? Did I interrupt you two?” My voice was ice-cold. But Erica had already put on a bright smile and rushed over, trying affectionately to link her arm through mine. “Lauren, Lauren! I finally get to meet you!” This was my first time meeting Erica face-to-face. She was indeed young and beautiful, full of vitality. But the scent of her perfume mixed with that night’s scene, replaying over and over in my mind, made me nauseous. I pushed her away and forced out a smile. “I’ve heard Richard mention you often too.” “Really?” Erica exclaimed, but her eyes gleamed as she looked at Richard. “Then what does the Professor usually say about me?” Though she spoke to me, her gaze remained entangled with him. I was merely a prop in their flirtation. “He says you study hard…” I paused, looking at her. “But I need to remind you that asking academic questions doesn’t require cuddling up to your professor. And as a student, sharing a straw with your professor isn’t appropriate. That’s a basic boundary.” Erica’s face went pale. She shrank behind Richard, her voice trembling. “Lauren… do you not like me?” “Lauren!” Richard suddenly called out my full name sharply, his face darkening. “You’ve gone too far. She’s just a student. The culture here is more open-everyone’s casual. That’s all.” “A student?” I laughed, pointing at the coffee. “A student would use your straw? You’d wipe a student’s mouth?” “She just wasn’t careful! We didn’t think that much about it!” Richard’s voice rose, tinged with the irritation of being exposed. “Do you have to be so aggressive?” “Not careful?” I grabbed the coffee and hurled it violently in their direction! The cold, dark brown liquid splashed out from the cup, splattering everywhere. Richard’s first reaction was to turn and shield Erica in his arms, not caring that he got soaked, not caring about his expensive shirt now a mess. Then he escorted Erica out of the office. “I’ll treat you to dinner another time to make up for this. Don’t hold it against your Lauren-she’s sick and in a bad mood.” Richard sighed softly, crouching down to start cleaning up, his voice weary. “Lauren, the doctor said you can’t get agitated.” Again. Using my patient status to frame me, turning all accusations into unreasonable outbursts. “Richard. That night, in the living room, I saw you two kissing.” Richard’s hand picking up glass shards suddenly froze. “I saw it.” I repeated. Richard didn’t look up. He continued gathering the fragments, his voice somewhat impatient. “Are you done making a scene? My conscience is clear.” My conscience is clear. What a wonderful phrase-my conscience is clear. All the indignation, anger, and pain felt like punching cotton in the face of those four words. Since Richard wasn’t willing to part amicably and wasn’t willing to speak plainly, why should I keep entangling myself?

Lauren POV I don’t know how I walked out of that office or how I crossed that campus corridor-once familiar, now so strange it made my heart panic. I only remember forcibly suppressing the rage and humiliation that threatened to explode in my chest, each step like walking on knife points. Until I crossed that solemn campus gate and cold air hit my face. The world seemed to have its mute button pressed, followed by a massive, heart-pounding sense of emptiness that swept up from my feet like a tsunami, instantly swallowing me whole. The anger disappeared. The humiliation evaporated. Even the nauseating scene from the office minutes ago became blurry. I stood on the bustling street like an empty shell. Who am I? Why am I here? What just happened? Where am I going? Where is that place called “home”? Panic crept up my spine in fine threads. With trembling hands, I reached for my phone in my pocket. My fingertips touched only darkness-it was dead. I looked around in confusion. Traffic streamed past, voices buzzed, everything distorted and distant. A violent dizziness struck. I staggered. Just then, a sharp engine roar approached from far away. A heavy motorcycle, like an out-of-control beast, shot past my side. The rearview mirror violently scraped my arm. The massive impact made me lose balance completely, throwing me heavily backward. The back of my head struck the cold, hard curb with a dull sound. Searing pain exploded. My vision began to spin and darken. The noisy world rapidly lost color and sound. As consciousness sank completely into darkness, I used my last bit of strength to look toward that motorcycle. On the back seat, a figure turned back. It was Erica. She lifted the edge of her helmet, chin tilted slightly up, a triumphant curve on her lips. That Erica-the pure and sensible student in Richard’s mouth-had hit me and driven away. I don’t know how long passed before consciousness was dragged back by the pungent smell of disinfectant and vague pain. I struggled to open my eyes. It took a while for my vision to focus on the pale ceiling. A warm, moist sensation came from the back of my hand. A bit itchy. I turned my head slightly. Richard was collapsed at the bedside, tightly gripping my hand. He looked terrible-hair disheveled, heavy dark circles under his eyes, stubble covering his chin, eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed, face still streaked with undried tears. Tears were dripping one by one onto the back of my hand. Sensing my movement, Richard’s head snapped up, his bloodshot eyes instantly blooming with joy. “Lauren? You’re awake? How do you feel? Does your head still hurt? Are you uncomfortable anywhere? You…” He spoke incoherently, his voice terribly hoarse. His last question was asked cautiously, tinged with enormous fear. “Do you still remember… who I am?” Looking at his face, now written with exhaustion, I felt only hypocrisy. Somewhere in my chest came a delayed, dull pain. I pulled at the corner of my mouth, letting out an extremely soft, cold sneer. “What a shame,” I heard my own dry voice say, “I still remember.” “Thank God! Lauren, you still remember…” Richard suddenly bent down and pulled me into his arms. His arms trembled as he crushed me against him, as if trying to press me into his own body. “I’m sorry. It’s all my fault. Let’s not fight anymore. Never again. The doctor said hitting your head might affect your condition. I was terrified, Lauren. I really can’t lose you…” His embrace was fierce. His voice broke. They say hugs are love’s highest form. In that moment, my hatred for him seemed to crack, burned open by that embrace. Grievance. Resentment. The last shreds of love. All of it surged toward the crack, desperate to spill out. I almost hugged him back. Almost believed in this warmth. Almost pretended the pain never happened. My hand lifted, just slightly. Fingertips trembling. Almost touching him. Then a sharp, piercing ringtone shattered the warmth of the hospital room. Richard’s body tensed almost imperceptibly. A reflex. He let go of me and pulled his phone from his pocket. When he answered and the screen lit up, I saw the caller ID clearly. Little Dummy. That nickname cut right through me. Like ice. I still remembered everything. How Erica threw herself at him. How they were together in the office. How on the back of that motorcycle, Erica turned back at me with that triumphant, venomous smile. “I have something to deal with here. Erica will come by later…” Richard turned to tell me. “It was Erica,” I cut him off, my voice flat, no ripple at all. I watched his face as he turned back. The flicker of irritation at being interrupted. “She was the one who had someone hit me.”

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“Diana, take Cecilia’s place. Go to prison.” When Damian said those words, he couldn’t even look me in the eye. Three years of marriage, and he’d worn me down from a proud heiress to the joke of our social circle. He bought Cecilia houses. Spent nights with her. Shielded her from everything. And yet he wanted me to take her place behind bars. I agreed. After I signed the divorce papers, I turned around and dialed 911. “I’d like to report a hit-and-run. Cecilia Martin fled the scene.” He caught up with me at the airport just as the security gate was slowly closing. “Diana! You lied to me!” I didn’t look back. Later, the truth came out. I heard he searched the world for me like a madman. I heard he finally saw that woman’s true colors. I heard he collapsed from kneeling outside my shop. I never went out. Not until someone pushed the door open. The man who once made me take the fall for Cecilia now knelt before me on broken porcelain, holding up a diamond ring. “Diana, can we remarry?”

Diana’s POV In the dim light of the reunion party’s private room, someone brought up old stories. A red-faced drunk swayed to his feet, wine glass in hand. “If you ask me, Damian is truly devoted!” “Back when Diana cheated and guilt-tripped him into a divorce, he actually drove through the night in freezing weather just to chase after her. If it were me…” Before he could finish, the chatter in the room died instantly. Several glances flickered in my direction. Damian’s fingers tightened around his wine glass. He immediately turned to look at me. I acted as if I hadn’t heard, simply raising my glass to drain the remaining wine. When Damian didn’t respond, the drunk grew bolder, chuckling as he continued. “If you ask me, Damian, you should have married Cecilia back then!” “Cecilia is so gentle and kind. If you two had gotten together, you’d have kids in school by now, right?” He finished with a suggestive wink at Cecilia in the crowd. Damian looked over. Cecilia sat in the brightest spot, wearing a simple white dress, her long hair flowing softly over her shoulders. The light made her look especially pure. She seemed flustered, biting her lower lip slightly. Time seemed to stretch and freeze in that instant. He looked at her. She looked back at him. Neither looked away first. In that silent gaze, a thousand unspoken words seemed to flow between them, or perhaps it was just the haze of alcohol. A full minute passed. “See! I knew you still have feelings for Cecilia!” The drunk let out a whistle, shattering the silence. Someone beside him went pale. They lunged to cover his mouth. “What are you talking about? Shut up if you’re drunk.” Only then did Damian seem to snap awake, quickly turning to look at me. I had already stood up. Without looking at anyone, I simply grabbed my purse from the sofa and walked toward the door. Damian instinctively stood up. His feet moved, as if he wanted to follow. In the end, he stayed where he was. When I got home, I took a long shower. The warm water rushed over my skin but couldn’t drive away the chill in my bones. I was towel-drying my hair as I walked out of the bathroom. It was already late at night. Finally, the sound of keys turning came from the entrance, followed by muffled voices and stumbling footsteps. The door opened. Damian was practically being carried in by Cecilia. He was very drunk, mumbling incoherently. “Cecilia, don’t… don’t go…” The man’s murmurs came in fragments, carrying unconscious dependence. Cecilia struggled to support him. Looking up and seeing me, she seemed not to notice my outstretched hand. Guilt and unease appeared on her face. “Diana, I’m sorry. Damian drank too much. The others asked me to bring him home. Let me help him to bed first?” I said nothing, withdrawing my hand and stepping aside. Cecilia helped him into the master bedroom. Rustling sounds came from inside. The man occasionally groaned in discomfort. The woman soothed him in gentle tones. After a while, Cecilia tiptoed out, nodded to me, and hurriedly left. The door closed again. The house returned to silence. I walked to the bedroom doorway without turning on the light. Using the light leaking in from outside the window, I watched the man sleeping on the bed. I walked over and sat down in the single armchair by the bed. I don’t know how much time passed before Damian frowned and groaned with thirst, instinctively reaching for the nightstand. In the past, whenever he came home drunk, I always left a glass of honey water at just the right temperature there. Tonight I hadn’t prepared any. His hand found nothing. His frown deepened as he propped himself up on his arms. His tone carried the impatience of a hangover and an air of entitlement. “Why didn’t you pour me water?”

Diana’s POV I didn’t answer, only looked at him. Damian seemed uncomfortable under my stare. Rubbing his throbbing temples, he sighed. “Today was an accident. I drank too much, so I had Cecilia bring me home.” “After all, you left early. I had no choice but to trouble Cecilia.” I remained silent. His patience finally exhausted, Damian’s voice grew heavy with anger. “I’ve already cut off all ties with her for you. The baby in her belly is gone too!” “Diana, what more do you want from me? Do I have to kill her before you’re satisfied?!” After saying this, he seemed to realize his words were too harsh. He looked away, his voice lowering with guilt. “Cecilia’s family helped me when I had nothing. Without her father’s support, I never could have gone from nothing to where I am today.” “Diana, didn’t you always tell me that people should repay kindness?” Those words were like a key, instantly unlocking the floodgates of memory and extinguishing the last light in my heart. I finally spoke. “You don’t need to explain. I understand everything.” Yes, I understood. I had believed every excuse like this in the past. So I could tolerate endlessly how he cared for Cecilia in every aspect of his life, often bypassing me, his wife. I could tolerate when I had a fever of nearly 104 degrees, curled up in bed burning hot, and he left without hesitation after receiving a call from Cecilia saying she was “scared because the power went out.” I could tolerate carefully dressing up each time, eagerly preparing to attend important events with him, only to receive his slightly apologetic “Cecilia will go in your place tonight. She’s new and needs more exposure.” I used to be a proud heiress with my own stubborn principles in relationships. I loved Damian, which was why I endured again and again. Each time I told myself that Damian loved me-he only pitied Cecilia, which was why he always sided with her. Until that time when I had another argument with him over Cecilia and went straight back to my parents’ house, but returned early because I was worried about his sensitive stomach. When I opened the door, I saw overlapping figures in the kitchen. He was still wearing his loungewear, and Cecilia’s skirt was hiked up. In that moment, I completely lost it. I smashed every expensive piece of porcelain I could see, rushed up and slapped Cecilia hard several times. I screamed at Damian to divorce me immediately, or I’d make this scandal known to everyone. I thought with this evidence, Damian would have to leave with nothing. But I never expected fate to deliver its heaviest blow so soon. My family was framed. The company had financial problems uncovered. My parents faced prison. They had poor health, years of chronic illness. With bodies like that, if they went to prison, they might not even survive the year. The once-glorious family empire collapsed overnight. All assets were frozen, all connections severed. With nowhere else to turn, I could only beg my newly divorced ex-husband Damian. At the time, after hearing my tearful plea, he barely lifted his eyelids. “Diana.” He called my name, but it was as distant as addressing a stranger. “I don’t know in what capacity I should help your parents. After all, we’re just divorced strangers now.” I knelt on the ground, clutching at his pant leg, begging him to remarry me. But he still wasn’t satisfied, his fingertips lightly tapping the table. He sighed, his tone troubled, but his eyes full of calculation. “You know your family’s situation is quite complicated. I don’t have enough authority to pull many strings. Many things are beyond my power.” “But I’m getting promoted at the end of the month. Then things will be easier.” “However, you should understand-infidelity really damages one’s reputation. It’s bad for me and for Cecilia.” I understood. Damian wanted me to take all the blame for the affair, to whitewash him and Cecilia. I finally said those words: “It was all my fault. Nothing happened between you and Cecilia.” My entire being seemed to have its spine removed, wilting instantly. And he finally bent down, pulling me into his arms, kissing my cold forehead. “I promise you, I won’t see Cecilia again.” Just like that, I carried all the insults and contempt from our circle and remarried him. While he became the devoted husband everyone praised, never abandoning his unfaithful wife, so loyal and honorable. Only I knew what sordid truth lay beneath this devoted performance. Perhaps Damian had some feelings for me-otherwise he wouldn’t have agreed to remarry and give my parents a lifeline. But the one he truly loved was always Cecilia, that heavy “debt of gratitude” he spoke of, his carefully calculated future. Just like today. He could let the whole world speak ill of me, but couldn’t stand anyone saying a bad word about Cecilia. I stopped looking at the man on the bed. Just as the silence in the bedroom was about to freeze the air, a shrill ringtone shattered it.

Diana’s POV Damian practically shot up, reaching for his phone on the nightstand. The screen lit up, showing the contact name as “Friend.” His expression changed. The lingering drunkenness and irritation were instantly replaced by urgency. He threw off the covers and got out of bed, his movements almost frantic. While hastily pulling on his jacket, he spoke rapidly to me. “My friend has an emergency. I need to go. I’ll be back soon.” I remained seated in the chair, unmoving, silent. I knew whose number that was. He thought he’d hidden it well, changing “Cecilia Martin” to this safe contact name, erasing all traces. He didn’t know-or didn’t care-that I actually knew everything. I just didn’t care anymore. Damian, fully dressed, walked to the door, then seemed to remember something and came back. He leaned down and affectionately kissed my forehead. “Wait for me.” His breath brushed against my skin, tickling. “I’ll be back soon. Tomorrow I’ll take you to meet the person in charge.” “Your parents’ situation-we need to talk face-to-face to have any room for negotiation.” After saying this, without another glance at me, he turned, opened the door, and his figure quickly disappeared into the dim hallway light. I slowly raised my hand, touching the spot on my forehead that still seemed slightly damp, and smiled. Be back soon? Every time he received a call from Cecilia, he said the same thing. But every time, there was a different reason for him to stay there. She was in a bad mood. She wasn’t feeling well. Her electrical circuit broke. She had a nightmare… I used to wait like a fool, from deep night until daybreak, from hope until heartbreak. Damian clearly knew I was more afraid of the dark than Cecilia. Because when I was young, my parents were busy with work and hired an irresponsible nanny. That woman locked me in a dark, damp basement for hours at a time. That terror of being swallowed by endless darkness was carved into my bones. Before I met Damian, I never dared sleep with the lights off. It was him, bit by bit, holding my hand and telling boring stories, who helped me through those endless nights. So that later, I finally dared to turn off the lights and sleep peacefully in our bedroom. But he seemed to have forgotten. He only remembered that Cecilia was afraid of the dark-one phone call and he’d rush over to be the “hero” who dispelled the darkness. The entrance became completely quiet. I stood up and walked to the window, watching the familiar car below light up its taillights and quickly drive away. We met at a charity gala. Across the noisy crowd, he saw me at a glance, and I happened to look back. That moment was just like a slow-motion scene in a movie. Friends beside me sneered that Damian was just a poor nobody with no background, hardly worthy of me. Even my parents firmly objected, afraid I’d suffer with him. But I was so foolish, so brave then. I threw myself at him without hesitation, moved into the shabby little apartment he rented. And he was truly good to me once, wholeheartedly good. When his salary was meager, he could hand it all to me without keeping a cent. He had no bad habits. Wherever he went, he reported to me, openly introducing me to everyone as “my wife, Diana.” He handled all the housework. Even after running around all day, coming home late at night, he’d draw hot water to wash my feet. The most heart-stopping time, I was taken hostage by criminals, my life hanging by a thread. He stepped forward without hesitation, offering to exchange himself for me. In the end, I was unharmed, but he took several stab wounds and struggled in the emergency room for three days and nights before barely surviving. With this life-risking devotion, he finally passed my parents’ test. In our family’s small garden, he knelt on one knee, offering all his savings. He was so nervous his palms sweated, his words clumsy but sincere. “Diana, I’m not good with fancy words, but everything I have is yours.” I cried uncontrollably, thinking I’d grasped the most solid happiness in the world. But what happened later? Later, this same man who once loved me like life itself gently explained to me when bringing Cecilia here. “Cecilia is a girl living alone. Dorms aren’t safe, and the environment is complicated.” Then he took almost all the savings we’d built together over the years. And he bought Cecilia a nice house. Cozy. Beautiful. The favoritism was so blatant, it was almost beyond belief.

Diana’s POV I did ask, question, and make a fuss. But every time, he looked at me with those eyes that once held nothing but love for me, earnestly. Then spoke that impeccable excuse. “Diana, without the support of Cecilia’s parents, I would have starved to death on the streets. How could I be where I am today?” “They’re like parents to me who gave me life. Cecilia is like my real sister. Don’t worry. The person I love most will always be you.” I loved him too much back then. Loved him enough to numb myself. Loved him enough to believe that lie, that gratitude and love are two different things. That bit of discomfort in my heart was forcibly suppressed by overwhelming love. Even after our first divorce, he still had the flower shop deliver a bouquet of my favorite white roses every single day without fail. When everyone misunderstood that I’d cheated, they thought Damian going to the flower shop every day to carefully select roses for me was so devoted and affectionate. But only I knew this relationship had finally rotted. Even though he agreed to remarry and promised not to have excessive contact with Cecilia. I knew they never truly cut off contact privately. Those changed contact names, late-night phone calls, occasionally glimpsed walks side by side. All silently mocking my self-deception. I thought, once my parents’ situation was resolved, maybe I should finally let go. I would fulfill them and release myself. I didn’t want to be caught between them anymore, enduring the slut-shaming day after day, living like a joke. I’d already written and submitted the divorce application. This time I’d leave with nothing-this house, this empire he’d built, I wanted none of it. Consider it payment for his help resolving the problem. After all, asking strangers for favors always requires paying a price. But Damian, once he left, didn’t return for several days. Calls went straight to busy signals or no answer. I tried finding him at his company but was politely stopped at the entrance. When I tried to ask around, those faces that used to fawn and flatter were now cold and distant. No one wanted to get involved. I even lost my mind and went to his rural hometown, only to find it overgrown with weeds from long neglect. Time passed anxiously, bit by bit. I forgot to count the days. Until I stumbled back to the city in a daze and received devastating news. My parents had been sentenced to ten years in prison, to be executed immediately. No delay, no cancellation, no room for negotiation. Damian never appeared. No notification came. I completely panicked. Like a madwoman, I called everyone everywhere, begging with a hoarse voice. But only evasions, dismissals, and silent hang-ups answered me. I couldn’t find him. That man who swore he’d help me, who said he loved me, had vanished like he’d evaporated from the world. No one helped me. I couldn’t even get visitation rights. After the massive panic came only numbness. I stopped looking for Damian. I returned to that empty, cold house and waited like a ghost. One day, two days… A month passed. Damian had no news. My parents’ side had no news either. The next time I heard about my parents, a prison guard delivered two small boxes. Inside were two handfuls of light, weightless ashes. The guard said my parents were caught up in a prison brawl. An inmate picked up a table and smashed it on them. Despite resuscitation efforts, they were declared dead. I didn’t cry. I accepted the boxes, set up a simple memorial altar. In the black-and-white photos, my parents’ smiles were still gentle. I lit candles and knelt on the cushion, staring blankly at the wisps of smoke. Just then, the door lock sounded. Damian had returned. He wore a light-colored casual outfit, his face showing contentment. He was even carrying a paper bag printed with a resort destination logo. Pushing open the door, he was obviously stunned. “Diana?” He spoke uncertainly, his brows knitting. “What are you doing?” I slowly turned my head. When I saw the displeasure on his face, the volcano I’d been suppressing finally erupted. I shot up from the floor. Rushed to Damian and, with all my strength, swung my hand viciously across his face! Smack! The crisp sound of slaps was especially harsh in the silent memorial hall. One after another, without rhythm, only pouring out hatred and despair. “Damian! You bastard!” I cried out, my voice broken and hoarse. “What did you promise me?! You said you’d help me! You’d save my parents!” “Where were you?! Where the hell did you disappear to?! My parents are dead! They’re dead, do you understand?!!” Damian’s face was knocked to the side from my blows, red swollen handprints quickly appearing. He was stunned by the beating.

Diana’s POV He tilted his head, taking several deep breaths. “Diana, calm down!” He grabbed my wrist as I swung again, his grip strong, painfully tight. “Listen to my explanation! I left in a hurry and forgot to explain in detail.” “About your parents-I inquired carefully later. They’re watching it closely from above. There’s almost no room to maneuver, it’s basically set in stone…” His tone was urgent, carrying an eagerness to shirk responsibility. “It just so happened the psychologist said Cecilia had serious emotional and mental problems from the abortion, with signs of depression. It would be best to change environments and relax.” “I had no choice. If something happened to her in that state, how could I face her deceased parents? So I took her away to clear her head…” He even sighed helplessly, as if bearing tremendous grievance and helplessness. “I know you’ve been anxious this whole time, but things have priorities.” “Cecilia’s situation was critical. Your parents’ matter was already settled.” “Besides, you can’t have children anyway. How could you understand Cecilia’s pain of losing a baby?” All my movements froze in that instant. I couldn’t help murmuring. “I don’t have children…” I looked at this man who once promised me a lifetime. His face still bore the red marks from my slaps, yet such heart-piercing words came from his mouth. My heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand, crushed, every fragment stabbing into my flesh, the pain making it almost impossible to breathe. I wanted to cry out loud, to demand how he could say such things. But my throat seemed blocked by something. I couldn’t make a sound. Only my body trembled slightly, beyond my control. I dug my nails deep into my palm with all my might. I don’t have children… Yes, I could conceive once too. Who was it that, when he fought for his future at drinking tables, felt sorry for him fighting alone? Who drank glass after glass by his side, blocking drinks for him, navigating among all kinds of people? And who was it that, through years of such entertaining and alcohol erosion, gradually broke down physically and lost the qualification to be a mother? He now pitied Cecilia’s pain of losing a child-but what about my pain? What I lost was far more than an unborn child. It was my hope for a future family, a part of my body. He forgot. He forgot it all. My whole body shook violently. I raised my head and stared at Damian. Then I grabbed the water glass beside me and hurled it viciously at him. Damian was caught off guard as hot water splashed his face, choking him into stumbling backward. But this was just the beginning. I grabbed and threw whatever I could reach without caring. “Get out! Damian! Get out! Get out!!” I screamed. Damian dodged frantically while trying to stop me. “Diana! Are you crazy! Stop it!” In the chaos, I found a ceramic vase. It was a gift Damian gave me the first time he earned “big money” years ago. I once treasured it, displaying it in the most prominent place in our home. Now, I only found it disgusting. I raised the vase high with both hands and hurled it at Damian with all my life’s strength. Damian dodged to the side hastily. “Crash!!” The vase grazed his shoulder and flew past, missing him. But it struck solidly the figure who had just pushed the door open behind him. Immediately followed by a woman’s piercing scream and the dull thud of something hitting the floor. Time seemed to freeze for an instant. I gasped for breath, looking over. Cecilia pressed her hand to her forehead, staggering against the doorframe. Bright red blood seeped between her fingers. A delicate paper bag lay torn at her feet, its contents spilling out. Her face was pale as death. Tears sprang to her eyes, instant and real. Yet she still forced herself to look up into the room, her voice catching with sobs. “Sorry… Damian, Diana… I came at a bad time…” Damian turned around, absolutely furious. He spun around abruptly, strode up to me in a few steps, and before I could react, raised his hand and slapped me hard! Two extremely loud slaps, delivered with full force.

Diana’s POV I covered my face as blood seeped through my fingers. I looked at Damian’s back and smiled. “We’re completely finished.” But Damian didn’t turn around at all. He grabbed Cecilia’s wrist. “Come on, I’ll take you to the hospital.” He didn’t even glance at me. Just like that, supporting the softly sobbing Cecilia, he disappeared outside the door without looking back. The room became completely quiet. Only me, and that lonely paper bag lying at the doorway. I slowly walked over and bent down to pick it up. The bag’s opening gaped open. Inside was a pair of men’s underwear. Familiar style, familiar color. My fingers trembled. The paper bag slipped from my palm. The underwear fell to the floor too, like a glaring stain. I cried. At first silently, only my shoulders shaking lightly. Then I couldn’t suppress it anymore. I bent over and crouched down, burying my face in my knees, sobbing loudly. I don’t know how long I cried. Not until my throat was too hoarse to make sound and my tears seemed dried up did I fall asleep against the wall. In my dream was a night from many years ago. Damian clumsily climbed up to my family’s windowsill, carefully protecting a somewhat wilted bouquet of roses in his arms. Moonlight fell on his flushed face. He was so nervous his voice trembled. “I’m sorry, Diana. I can’t afford good ones now, but someday I’ll buy you all the roses in the city.”In the dream, I smiled as I accepted that less-than-fresh bouquet and gently tucked it into my hair, looking up at him. “You’ve already given me the most beautiful roses in the world.” The breeze was light then, and his eyes were bright. I truly believed we would go on like that forever. But dreams eventually end. I was awakened by the sound of the door opening. Curled up on the floor, I opened my eyes to see Damian walking toward me. His face showed fatigue, his eyes bloodshot. He silently bent down, picked me up from the floor, and gently placed me back on the bed. He sat on the edge of the bed. Only oppression remained between us. After a long while, Damian finally spoke in a low voice. “Diana, I never thought we’d become like this.” He reached out as if to touch my face, but stopped mid-air and finally withdrew his hand. “I was too impulsive yesterday. I apologize.” His voice was hoarse. “But you know Cecilia’s parents were kind to me.” “They died early. I’m all she has left. I can’t help but take extra care of her.” I slowly raised my eyes. “Cecilia doesn’t have parents…” My voice was soft. “What about my parents? They’re gone too, aren’t they? I won’t have parents who love me anymore either.” I paused, my breathing slightly trembling. “I trusted you so much, Damian. I placed all my hope in you, but you betrayed my trust.” Damian sighed and lowered his eyes. “It’s all my fault. Whatever anger, whatever hatred you have, direct it at me. Don’t do anything to Cecilia. She’s suffered enough already.” I looked at him quietly, as if truly seeing this person for the first time. For Cecilia, he could actually go this far. “Let’s divorce.” I heard my own voice. “I don’t want anything.” Damian’s expression changed drastically. He grabbed my hand tightly. “I can agree to anything except divorce.” “Diana, I love you. If I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t keep coming back, and I certainly wouldn’t have chosen to remarry you.” “Is this what you call love?” I laughed out loud. The atmosphere instantly froze. Just then, Damian’s phone rang. He answered. Cecilia’s panicked voice came through, full of tears. “Damian, I woke up in the hospital and didn’t see you. I was so worried, I tried to find you myself.” “But there was a rear-end collision on the road. I think I hit someone.” Damian’s expression instantly tensed. He stood up abruptly. “Don’t panic. Stay where you are. I’m coming right now!” He hung up and turned to look at me. “Wait for me at home. I’ll be back soon.” After saying this, without even waiting for my response, he turned and hurriedly left. I didn’t want to wait anymore. The story between us should have ended long ago. Since he wouldn’t leave, I’d do it myself. I picked up my phone, found the lawyer’s number, and dialed. When the call connected, my voice was unusually calm. “Hello, Mr. Lee. I want to retain you to handle my divorce.” “I’ll wait at home. Please bring the agreement when it’s ready.” After hanging up, I looked out at the darkening sky. This time, I would never look back. But the lawyer never came. Damian came first. When he pushed the door open, his face was haggard. Unshaven. Eyes threaded with red. He stood at the entrance to the living room, his voice raw. “Diana, let’s talk.”

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I was an excellent internal medicine doctor, but my mother Judy, who was the hospital director, promoted James—the son of her first love, John—to department head instead. James secretly beat and verbally abused me, and even refused to admit my critically ill father to the hospital. After Dad died, Mom praised James even more. “James is the backbone of our hospital. I hereby announce he is my successor!” But later, when James killed the supervisor’s wife through surgical malpractice, Mom Judy pinned the crime on me. I raised my scalpel triumphantly and said: “That’s right, I was the one who performed that surgery!” Today was the big day for James’s promotion to head of internal medicine at Grace Harmony Hospital. Many colleagues gave me pitying looks. But before I could feel disappointed, my neighbor called to tell me Dad had suffered a sudden heart attack. In the emergency room, I was preparing to change clothes to operate on Dad when James came in with security guards and pushed Dad away. I desperately protected Dad and demanded to know why they were doing this. James’s eyes were full of venom: “Torres, you’re just a junior doctor—you’re not qualified to perform surgery. What, are you so desperate for a promotion that you want to practice on your own father?” The security guards looked at me with contempt, accusing me of being an unfilial son. Seeing Dad’s pained expression, I frantically dialed Judy’s number. It wasn’t until the tenth call that she finally picked up, taking her sweet time. After hearing my request, she said without hesitation: “Don’t you think I know your father’s situation? Don’t think putting on this pathetic act will fool me.” “The hospital equipment suddenly broke down today, so we’ve suspended admissions for heart patients. Thank goodness James stopped you in time, or you—you useless waste—would have caused major trouble for our hospital!” “James is your superior. You must follow his decisions in everything. If you dare defy him, don’t blame me for firing you on the spot!” Her tone was cold, but I could still detect a hint of gloating satisfaction. I knew these were all excuses she made up. What was broken wasn’t the equipment—it was her heart. Then James took a phone call, summoned more security guards, and had them carry Dad to the hospital entrance and dump him there. I used to be the most skilled physician in the hospital, saving countless lives. But now, I could only watch helplessly as my own father’s life slowly slipped away, powerless to do anything. By the time I transferred Dad to the nearest hospital, I was told it was already too late. Dad gripped my hand, tears of regret streaming down his face: “Torres, it’s all my fault for trusting Judy back then. I held you back from achieving success. I’m so filled with regret…” “Listen to me—while you’re still young, transfer to another hospital quickly. Don’t let Judy bury your talent…” Watching Dad die with such resentment, I could no longer suppress my grief and broke down sobbing. But I couldn’t transfer hospitals yet, because I had to watch them destroy themselves! Judy used to be a small-time nurse at Hospital A. When she learned that Dad, as the director’s son, was working at the grassroots level for training, her desire for power and status was instantly ignited. She abandoned her childhood sweetheart John and used every trick in the book to pursue Dad. Simple and honest Dad had never experienced such passionate pursuit and soon fell for her. After marriage, Dad defied everyone’s opposition and insisted on using the family’s resources to help Judy rise to the position of hospital director. But she turned around and abandoned Dad. When she next appeared, she was brazenly going on intimate outings with John and his son. She even arranged jobs for both of them at the hospital—one as head of the security team, the other as an attending physician despite just graduating. At that time, I had already accumulated three years of surgical experience at the hospital, with countless successful cases, and had just been appointed as an attending physician. But as soon as she became director, she demoted me to junior doctor. Even though I had a master’s degree from a prestigious university, Judy insisted on supporting James, who only had a vocational diploma. No matter how much Dad tried to persuade her, she ignored him and transferred me to the records room to do menial work. All the hospital’s quality resources were allocated to James. Though everyone complained privately, no one dared speak up publicly. To cover for James, Judy even assigned the most experienced professor to be his assistant. Meanwhile, I—who used to need appointments booked half a year in advance—could only sit alone in the empty storage room, nursing my sorrow. A senior colleague who had mentored me couldn’t bear to see me wasted like this, so along with other colleagues friendly to me, they went to confront her. The next day, they were all fired from the hospital. Each one was a backbone member of the hospital, yet they kept hitting walls when looking for new jobs. Later I learned that Judy had spread rumors in the industry that they had lawsuits over patient deaths, so no one dared hire them. From then on, I became isolated and helpless in the hospital.

James began coming to harass me with John, periodically locking me up and beating and berating me. Once, when Judy passed by the door, I desperately called out to her for help. To my shock, she gave me a look of disgust and walked away without looking back. With Judy’s tacit approval, James came to find me more and more frequently. “Torres, you clearly know Judy doesn’t like you and deliberately targets you. Why do you insist on staying here?” When I didn’t respond, he flew into a rage and encouraged John to really hurt me. “If you know what’s good for you, get the hell out of here. Otherwise, I’ll beat you up every time I see you until you’re disabled!” From that point on, seeds of hatred toward the three of them took root in my heart. Until Dad died, those seeds shot straight to my head, ready to burst forth. After handling Dad’s funeral, I went to the hospital in a daze. As soon as I entered, I saw everyone in chaos. I learned that today was the day for the supervisor’s wife to have heart surgery. The lead surgeon was none other than the current department head, James. The surgery wasn’t particularly difficult, and with the professor assisting and supervising, the success rate should have been over ninety percent. But James, being incompetent, got nervous and his hand shook. He accidentally cut a major artery, causing severe blood loss in the patient. After examination by several professors at the hospital, the supervisor’s wife was deemed beyond saving. At this point, everyone in the hospital was terrified and at a loss. The supervisor was an influential figure in the state and even at higher levels. Offending him would be tantamount to pushing the hospital toward destruction. Just then, two security guards dragged me away with my eyes covered and mouth gagged. In the darkness, I felt someone dressing and undressing me. After I heard the door lock, I removed the blindfold to find myself standing in scrubs in an operating room. A patient lay silently on the hospital bed. After checking the file, I confirmed she was the hospital’s current hot potato—the supervisor’s wife. Voices came from outside the door. James stamped his feet anxiously: “Judy, you have to save me! The surgery didn’t fail because of me—it’s because the supervisor’s wife suddenly moved, that’s why I accidentally cut the blood vessel!” “Dad, please beg Judy to save me. I’m your only son—can you bear to see me spend the rest of my life in prison?” John patted James reassuringly: “Don’t panic. Hasn’t Judy already sent in the scapegoat? Once the supervisor sees that scene with his own eyes, no one will suspect you!” Judy’s voice sounded very composed: “Don’t worry. You’re closer to me than my own son. The hospital is locked down tight now. With me here, I absolutely won’t let anything happen to you.” “However, even with Torres taking the fall, our hospital’s reputation will still suffer some negative impact.” John lowered his voice: “I have a foolproof plan. Later we’ll quietly transfer Torres and the supervisor’s wife to the small clinic next door—a classic bait and switch!” “John, you’re brilliant! This way our family can continue living happily together!” “Dad, that’s a great idea. Time’s tight—let’s get moving!”

Hearing them gathering people to come in, I suddenly realized this operating room was a room within a room that only Dad and I knew about. By pressing a switch, I could open a hidden chamber. Just before they unlocked the door, I successfully transferred the supervisor’s wife and closed the hidden chamber door. The supervisor’s wife’s breathing was weak. Time was of the essence. Though a second surgery carried extremely high risk, a doctor’s job is to snatch lives from death’s grasp. As long as there was a shred of hope, I wouldn’t give up easily. I worked up a sweat in the inner chamber, while the monitor simultaneously showed what was happening in the outer room. A group of people rushed in and stood frozen in shock at the empty operating room. John’s face darkened: “What’s going on? Are you sure it was this room?” After receiving unanimous confirmation from the security guards, Judy roared: “Search! Go search now! Turn the entire hospital upside down if you have to. I refuse to believe a useless waste and a corpse can just vanish into thin air!” James collapsed on the floor wailing: “It’s over! It’s over! If we can’t find them, will I be taken away and executed? Dad, I’m so scared!” John helped his son up, his face showing some impatience: “Calm down. Even if the sky falls, your mother and I will hold it up. Pull yourself together. Don’t fall apart before the final moment!” After Judy arranged the personnel, she came over to smooth things over: “Don’t scare the boy. He’s held up very well until now. If it were that useless Torres, he’d probably have jumped off a building already.” Her bias was evident in every word. She always acted like she wanted to praise James to the heavens. Those who didn’t know would think James was her son. I calmly wielded my scalpel, focused on the operation. No matter how chaotic it was outside or how loud the hospital alarm system blared, nothing could affect my concentration. Fortunately, the hidden chamber was fully stocked with emergency supplies. After two harrowing hours, the surgery finally ended. But the supervisor’s wife still hadn’t completely escaped danger and needed constant monitoring. After sending a message, I left the hidden chamber amid the chaos. It wasn’t until someone screamed that everyone noticed me calmly walking among the crowd. John and the security guards immediately surrounded me, looking relieved. “Torres, you botched the supervisor’s wife’s surgery. Now the whole city is looking for you. I advise you to turn yourself in voluntarily—maybe you’ll get a few years off your sentence.” I was about to speak when Judy led the furious supervisor toward me. “Supervisor, I deeply apologize about your wife. Our hospital will definitely compensate for all damages. As for the source of the surgical failure, it’s all because our Dr. Torres here lacks medical skill.” “Whatever you want to do with him, we have absolutely no objection.” Having successfully redirected the fire to me, only Mom and John’s people remained at the scene. From their various looks, I read contempt, indifference, and disgust.

The supervisor pointed at me but only took two steps before clutching his chest and being supported by someone. Judy glanced coldly at me: “Torres, get over here and apologize to the supervisor right now!” Seeing my calm demeanor, she rushed over and slapped me twice. “Don’t think that being my son means you can easily escape responsibility! As the hospital director, I will only lead by example and support what’s right, not my relatives!” She gave John a look, and John immediately had his men restrain my hands behind my back. A gleam flashed in James’s tear-reddened eyes: “A doctor’s duty is to save lives, but Torres, you dared to kill someone through malpractice! John, beat this murderer to death!” Pain shot through my hands. I frowned: “Are you planning to extract a confession through torture?” Judy picked up a scalpel in a rage, looking vicious. “You conscienceless bastard! With so many witnesses present, you still want to deny it!” “Pin down his hands. A villain like this can never be allowed to harm other innocent patients again.” “Today, in front of the supervisor and everyone here, I will eliminate you—this scum with no medical ethics—for society!” The security guards held my hands out to her. I started to panic. A doctor’s hands are equivalent to our lives. If they’re damaged, I’ll be cut off from medicine for the rest of my life. I struggled desperately. Just as I was about to break free, John and James personally came over to restrain me. Four large men held me firmly in place. The next second, sharp pain shot through my hands. Blood splattered onto Mom’s white coat, but there wasn’t a trace of heartache on her face. I couldn’t help but shout: “You already caused Dad’s death—do you want to destroy me too?” Judy paused, then quickly recovered. “Your father died because of his own bad luck. What does it have to do with me? No matter how much you beg today, I will carry out this punishment to the end!” After several more stab wounds, I said trembling: “Stop! I admit it! I performed that surgery! Stop now!” But amid everyone’s cheers, Judy seemed not to hear and grew more and more excited. I don’t know how much time passed, but my hands had gone numb with pain, blood pooling on the floor. Just as John was about to hand me over to the police, a nurse pushed a hospital bed over. “Honey…” A weak voice awakened the supervisor from his grief. He tremblingly walked over, and when he saw his beloved lying there, he broke down crying: “My dear! Thank God, you’re still alive!”

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After my SAT scores came out, my mom Lester forcibly locked me in my room. Because of this, I missed the college application deadline and had no choice but to go out and work. Lester would boast to everyone she met: “Children need strict discipline. Only then will they know gratitude when they grow up.” I got married and became pregnant early. During delivery, the baby was too large, and I was in excruciating pain. She desperately held back my husband, refusing to let him sign the consent form for an epidural. In the end, I hemorrhaged and died on the operating table along with my child. Yet Lester said self-righteously: “I just wanted her to have a natural birth so she’d understand a mother’s hardship. It was her own bad luck!” When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day Lester locked me in my room. Before I could react, someone shoved me hard. With a loud “bang,” I fell to the ground, completely dazed. The cursing from outside the door came through clearly. “I feed you, clothe you, raised you until now, and you still want to run off to college to have it easy? Dream on!” “Once the college application deadline passes, you’re going out to earn money for this family. My son is applying to college next year. If you dare delay his future, I’ll beat you to death!” The shrill scolding continued endlessly. I went to the mirror in a daze. The reflection showed someone weary but not aged, with black hair not yet dried out and whitened by life’s torments. My abdomen was flat—it hadn’t yet carried a life. Only at this moment did I clearly realize: I had been reborn. Reborn to the first day after SAT scores were released, the first day of filling out college applications. And now, I had already been locked in my room by Lester. In my previous life, she kept me locked up until the SAT application system closed, then forced me to go out and work to support the family. She would boast to everyone: “She cried and made such a fuss back then, but now doesn’t she obediently bring money home?” I had resisted, but it only earned me a beating. The moment I escaped from this house, she reported me to the police, falsely claiming I’d been kidnapped. I was sent back before I’d gotten far. She would hit and scold me at will, belittle and insult me, then forcibly take all my wages to subsidize her most beloved son. Even after I finally got married, I remained her blood bag, clinging tightly to suck me dry. She didn’t love me. So during my pregnancy, my mother-in-law force-fed me nutritious soups, causing the fetus to grow too large and making delivery difficult. Not only did she show no sympathy, but she desperately held back my husband, refusing to let him sign for the epidural. Due to the delay, I died along with my baby. When she heard the news, she only stiffened her neck self-righteously. “I just wanted her to feel pain so she’d understand a mother’s hardship. It was her own misfortune and short life!” Thinking back on my previous life—controlled, drained of blood, enslaved and abused like a tool. Living again, should I walk the same old path? After shuddering violently, I looked at the poorly soundproofed wooden door, grabbed a nearby stool, and smashed it hard against the door handle. Once, twice, three times… I don’t know how many times I struck it. Only one thought filled my mind. I won’t walk the same old path again! My room door was the cheapest wooden door—thin panels, poor quality lock. After my frenzied assault, the door opened. Lester charged out of the kitchen with a cleaver, looking fierce. The moment she saw me, her expression changed. She swung her arm wide and slapped me hard across the face. Just breaking down the door had already exhausted most of my strength. I couldn’t possibly withstand her slap. I fell to the ground, dizzy and seeing black, beaten by continuous slaps with no ability to fight back. In my daze, my hand was pressed down hard. Lester cursed through gritted teeth. “You bastard, you actually dared to break down the door! Let me show you!” My cheeks stung densely. I struggled to open my eyes and saw Lester raising the cleaver high, her face full of fat and vicious intent. My heart stopped for a moment, then raced wildly. Lester had worked as a housekeeper for years and had tremendous grip strength. My pinned right hand throbbed numbly—I couldn’t pull it free no matter what. Seeing the cleaver about to fall, my heart went cold. Only one thought filled my mind. If she ruins my life again this time, then let’s all be destroyed together! “That’s enough!” A male voice impatiently stopped Lester. “Can you use your brain! If you cripple her hand, will you support her?” Lester, who had looked ready to devour me moments ago, instantly became docile as a cat. She dropped the cleaver and mumbled an explanation. “I just wanted to teach her a lesson. Look how lawless she is—today she dares break down doors, who knows what she’ll do tomorrow!” I looked at Johnson, who had picked up his phone again and didn’t want to get involved, and immediately crawled over to kneel before him. “Daddy, please let me go to college! My teacher said my grades could get me into a good university. Once I graduate, I’ll take the civil service exam to become a teacher. Not only is it a respectable job, but when my brother gets married and has children, I can help take care of them and tutor them—how convenient!” To convince them, I didn’t dare stop for a breath. “Only by attending a good university can I find a respectable job. Then while I’m still young, I’ll find a wealthy boyfriend and get married early. Not only can we collect high betrothal gifts, but I’ll have him buy a house in my brother’s name to support you in old age and let you enjoy life!” I spoke with such conviction that Johnson fell into thought. Instead, my brother Julian, playing games on the sofa, couldn’t contain himself and asked excitedly. “Can you also buy me a car?” I paused, then agreed immediately. “Yes! Once I’ve worked for two or three years and saved up money, I’ll buy you a nice car!” Julian was instantly swayed and urged our silent parents. “Just let Colleen go to college. By the time I graduate, I’ll have a house and a car—my classmates will be so jealous!” With Julian’s support, signs of wavering appeared on Johnson’s hesitant face.

But Lester looked me up and down suspiciously. “What if you go to college and run away after graduation? Who’ll take care of us in our old age then? Back home, some college graduates’ parents can’t even find them now.” As soon as she spoke, suspicion also appeared on Johnson’s face. He stared at me intently while smoking, as if trying to determine the truth of my words. My heart sank, afraid my college plan would fall through. I quickly said: “I can sign a guarantee letter, then choose a university close to home and come back to find work after graduation!” Lester wanted to say something more, but Johnson stubbed out his cigarette, his face showing rare kindness. “How can I not trust you? Colleen, you’re my daughter. You and Julian share the same blood. We’re family—we should be harmonious and support each other…” Lester’s expression soured. “What’s the use of a girl studying so much? Better to go work now. The money she earns can support the family, and when she gets married, we can collect more betrothal gifts.” “Lester!” Julian raised his voice in displeasure. “With just a high school diploma, how much can she earn working in a factory? In the future, she’ll only marry poor guys. Forget buying me a house—she won’t even afford a decent car.” Johnson glared hard at Lester before half-heartedly smoothing things over. “Don’t stoop to her level. She didn’t study much—long hair, short insight.” He then made a show of scolding Julian. “Why are you still playing games? That’s too much. Your sister is good to you, willing to buy you a car and house. If you’re not going to reciprocate, at least don’t make your sister write the guarantee letter herself!” Upon hearing this, Julian didn’t throw a tantrum like before when criticized. Instead, he tossed his phone aside, shuffled over in his slippers to find paper and pen, then began writing the guarantee letter in front of everyone. After finishing, he thoughtfully dug out an ink pad from the corner. I signed with a smile that didn’t reach my eyes, pressed my fingerprint, then filled out my college application in front of them. Father and son beamed with rare smiles. Lester snorted heavily, then rolled her eyes. “Let me say this upfront—you’re the one who wants to go to college. You’ll have to earn your own tuition and living expenses. All the family money belongs to Julian—don’t expect a single cent. Also, since you’ve filled out the application, you’ll start working at the factory tomorrow. You broke the door—you have to pay for it.” Faced with her harsh demands, I gritted my teeth and agreed to everything, then quietly changed my application late that night. The next day I entered the factory and began working 14-hour days. On my first day home, I was so exhausted my eyelids were fighting each other. No food had been left for me. I searched every cabinet but couldn’t find any noodles, so I had to eat the steamed bun meant for tomorrow’s breakfast, then collapsed into sleep. While sleeping hazily, I suddenly felt lighter. A shrill female voice exploded in my ears. “You bastard! Look what time it is and you’re still sleeping like a pig! Get up and go to work!” Lester yelled at me. I groggily grabbed my phone—it was only 4:30, still dark outside. I instantly felt aggrieved and desperate. “Mom, work doesn’t start until eight. Getting up at seven isn’t late. Why get up now?” “Smack!” I’d barely finished speaking when I was slapped. Lester stood with hands on hips, looking furious. “I work as a housekeeper and have to go to the market at six to buy fresh meat and vegetables. Why should you get to sleep until seven? Get up and make breakfast!” Seeing my pained expression, Lester finally looked satisfied. She looked down at me condescendingly, speaking in a lecturing tone. “No pain, no gain. I’m doing this for your own good, letting you experience work hardships early and build your character.” I looked at the broken door, then at Lester poised to strike, and resignedly got up to make breakfast. Hungry all night, my stomach was already touching my back, but Lester grabbed my bowl first and scooped most of my rice into Julian’s bowl. Julian rubbed his sleepy eyes, somewhat complaining. “Mom, how can I finish this much?” Lester shouted: “Why can’t you finish it? You’re about to be a senior—it’s exhausting. You need to eat more to have energy!” I looked at my bowl with only a small portion left and quickly ate. Naturally, I didn’t get enough breakfast. I went to work without them giving me a cent, so I had to walk to the factory. Lunch and dinner were provided free by the factory, but since I ate early in the afternoon and then worked over three more hours before walking home, my stomach was already growling. The work was intense, I often didn’t eat enough, and I was already malnourished. Within half a month, I felt dizzy and lightheaded.

Sometimes when I came home at night, I was so hungry and couldn’t find noodles, so I had no choice but to eat the leftovers on the counter. In summer’s heat, the food hadn’t been refrigerated and had easily spoiled. I was too hungry to be picky and swallowed it in a few bites, then rushed to wash up and sleep. After all, Lester would wake me up after four the next day under the pretense of “training” to make breakfast for the whole family. This night when I came home, besides the leftovers on the kitchen counter, there was surprisingly a watermelon. Watermelon… I swallowed hard, picking at the leftovers in my bowl. I’d long forgotten when I last ate watermelon. I just looked at it longingly. Lester, wearing her nightgown, somehow entered the kitchen. When she saw me, she slapped me without question, her mouth spraying saliva. “You bastard! How did I give birth to something so lazy, greedy, and inconsiderate!” “Taking pity on you, I specially left you leftovers, and you’re still not satisfied—you want to eat the watermelon I prepared for my husband and son! Today I’ll smash your mouth!” As always, she didn’t bother distinguishing right from wrong. After speaking, she raised her palm-sized hand and slapped my cheeks repeatedly. Soon my vision went black, and worse, my stomach began to cramp, my insides churning. Feeling the upheaval in my stomach, I ignored the cursing Lester and rushed past her into the bathroom to vomit. Wave after wave of nausea gave me no chance to leave the bathroom. Outside, Lester started jumping and cursing. “You shameless slut, have you been sleeping with men outside?” “Bastard! You’re so young and already promiscuous. You’re ugly and dirty—who’ll want you now? If I can’t sell you off, how will I collect betrothal gifts?” She charged forward again and beat my face and the back of my head. For a moment, I couldn’t tell which part hurt more. I just felt cold sweat all over, dizzy and ears ringing. Lester forcibly dragged me back to my room. She threw me on the floor, then snatched my phone. “You’ll stay home for now. When the bastard in your belly starves to death, then you can go out!” She meant what she said. The next day she changed the door lock, locked me at home, and gave me no food. My stomach hurt terribly. I curled up on the bed, consciousness gradually fading. Would I die?

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On New Year’s Day, my childhood friend Paul asked for the passcode to my new house. When I went to check on the place that weekend, I opened the door only to be shocked by over a dozen strangers inside. Paul walked over to me with a smile: “Lena, what brings you here? Come on in—you’re in luck. I’m hosting a family dinner right now.” I stood there completely bewildered. Before I could even voice my confusion, his girlfriend snapped: “Why does she have your house passcode and can just waltz in whenever she wants?” Paul immediately explained: “She said she got into a fight with her family and got kicked out with nowhere to stay, so I let her crash here for a few days.” Upon hearing this, his girlfriend’s face filled with contempt: “How shameless! Who knows how many men she’s begged to get what she wants.” Paul gave her a thumbs up: “You’re absolutely right! Last time she wanted to buy some designer bag she liked, she stripped naked and begged me for it.” His girlfriend covered her mouth, stifling a laugh. Seeing Paul lie so shamelessly, I rushed forward and slapped him hard across the face: “Who the hell do you think you are? You take over my house and slander me—get out!”

The moment I opened the door, the dozen or so people standing in the living room froze in unison, looking just as shocked as I was. “A thief?” A woman in her fifties shrieked first: “Breaking into my house in broad daylight—how audacious! Grab her and beat her senseless.” She was turning the tables on me. How shameless. Furious, I pulled out pepper spray from my bag: “This is MY house. You’re all trespassing, and if you lay a hand on me, that’s illegal. I’m calling the police to sort this out.” The people who’d rushed forward hastily retreated, cursing under their breath: “She’s got tricks up her sleeve. Get the mop—I don’t believe we can’t handle her.” Just as those words left her mouth, Paul burst out of the kitchen to stop them: “Don’t call the police, don’t fight—this is all a misunderstanding.” He smiled as he tried to calm the others down, then walked toward me while shooting me meaningful looks: “Lena, what are you doing here? Come on in—you’ve got great timing. You caught us right in the middle of our family dinner.” I frowned, completely confused. Before I could ask my questions, his girlfriend Lauren leaned against the doorframe and suddenly said in a mocking tone: “Paul, is this childhood friend of yours especially sweet-tongued or something?” Paul stopped in his tracks and raised an eyebrow at her: “Babe, I don’t even need to taste to know—her mouth isn’t one ten-thousandth as sweet as yours.” Lauren shot him a coy glare: “Stop it, I wasn’t talking about that.” Their public flirting drew a round of laughter from everyone else. I felt sick to my stomach—like a trusted partner had pushed me out to be used as a stepping stone. At that thought, my voice rose sharply in confrontation: “Paul, you brought outsiders here without my permission…” But before I could finish, Lauren cut me off with a shrill interruption: “Paul, I’m really curious how she sweet-talked you into giving her your door code. If we hadn’t been here today, what was she planning to do with you?” The smile vanished from Paul’s face instantly, replaced by a grave expression: “Whatever she was planning, I’d never give her any opportunity. You’re the only one in my eyes.” “She didn’t sweet-talk the code out of me—she got on her knees and begged for it. Said she fought with her family, got kicked out, and had nowhere to go. You know I’ve always been soft-hearted, so I gave it to her without thinking much about it.” I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. We’d grown up together, and this was the first time I’d witnessed him openly fabricate lies, destroying someone’s reputation in seconds. I was too stunned to react for a long moment. Lauren’s face filled with contempt: “Most girls couldn’t be this shameless. Who knows how many men she’s begged to get what she wants.” Paul gave her a thumbs up: “Babe, you’re so smart. Last time she wanted to buy some bag she liked, she stripped naked and begged me. I told you about it afterward.” At this, Lauren covered her mouth to suppress her laughter: “Oh, so it was her. How shameless.” Lauren’s mother led the others in loud mockery: “Her figure can’t be that great, right?” Paul wrinkled his nose and shook his head: “I didn’t look. Probably like a fat pig, though.” After saying this, he looked at his girlfriend expectantly. Lauren smiled and praised him: “That’s my man—knows where to draw the line.” “Looking at a woman with that kind of body would be painful.” Their back-and-forth ridicule, treating me like a plaything for their amusement, was utterly disgusting. I suppressed the fury burning in my chest: “Paul, for your mother’s sake, I’ll give you one more chance. Take them and get the hell out. I can pretend this never happened—otherwise, I’m sending all of you to prison.”

“Big talk from you. I’m so scared.” Lauren sneered: “Oh right, I forgot you’re some hotshot lawyer who crawls out of god-knows-whose bed every morning, throwing your weight around at us ordinary people.” Paul’s eyes flashed with panic as he tugged at her sleeve: “There are so many people here—give her some face.” Lauren yanked her arm away forcefully, shouting in displeasure: “What, you feel sorry for her?” “Or am I wrong? She snuck in here today to seduce you, didn’t she?” Lauren’s mother chimed in: “Exactly. One look at her face and you can tell she’s a shameless homewrecker who sleeps her way to the top.” The others joined in the mockery, each more foul-mouthed than the last. What I couldn’t accept most was Lauren constantly emphasizing this was her house. The fury in my chest kept churning. With a dark expression, I warned: “According to the law, spreading sexual rumors and trespassing can get you sentenced to 1-5 years in prison.” If it weren’t for your mother being colleagues with my parents, having such a good relationship, and our families being neighbors for years, I would never waste words with them—I’d go straight to the police. “Paul, I don’t care what reason you had for bringing these people to my house, but apologizing and leaving now is still an option.” Upon hearing this, Lauren acted like she’d heard the funniest joke: “Your house? Keep dreaming.” “You’re so used to being the other woman that now you want to steal my boyfriend and take over his house? Let me tell you, he’ll never marry a slut like you who’s been passed around by everyone.” At that moment, I nearly couldn’t resist spraying her with pepper spray, but legally speaking, whoever strikes first is in the wrong. I could only rebut angrily: “I’ve always conducted myself properly, unlike you who’s been with countless men. Only trash like Paul would be a match for you.” “I’ll say it one more time—I bought this house for $150,000. It’s not your place to act out here.” With that, I pulled out my phone to call the police. But Paul, whose eyes had been darting around nervously, suddenly went crazy and snatched my phone, smashing it violently on the ground while roaring at me: “Lena, don’t push your luck!” “What do you mean ‘your house’? You transferred it to me last month to settle a debt. Don’t even think about going back on it.” Lauren’s eyes widened instantly: “What? This house was transferred to settle a debt?” She looked disgusted: “I don’t want some dump where this slut has lived. Who knows how many men she’s brought back here. So gross.” Lauren’s mother and the others fanned the flames: “Paul, do you look down on our Lauren? The wedding house is secondhand? Without $66,000 in betrothal gifts, forget about marrying her.” Hearing this, Paul frantically apologized: “Everyone, I didn’t explain clearly. This is a brand new house, definitely not secondhand. If you don’t believe me, you can check online or even ask the property management—it was just handed over last month.” When he turned to look at me, hatred roiled in his eyes, each word dripping with venom: “Lena, no matter how much you make a scene, it’s useless. I could never like trash like you.” “If you’re really that desperate for a man, Lauren’s uncle happens to be single. For old times’ sake, I’ll introduce you to him first.” Lauren’s uncle’s eyes lit up with a lecherous smile: “Sure! I don’t mind that she sleeps around.” He reached out to grab me: “Come on, let’s find somewhere private for some fun.” His words sparked a round of laughter. Seeing Paul’s disgusting face joining in the mockery, the fury in my chest erupted completely. I rushed forward and slapped him hard: “Who the hell do you think you are? You take over my house, slander me—wait for the lawsuit.”

Paul clutched his face in disbelief: “You actually dare to hit me?” I was shaking with rage, trying my best to stay calm as I argued: “You brought over a dozen people to occupy my property and refuse to leave. You led wave after wave of verbal abuse against me and deliberately had people grope me. I had no choice but to defend myself.” Hearing this, Lauren furiously raised her foot to kick me: “Lena, you dare touch my man? You’re asking for death!” Since I dodged quickly, she lunged into empty air and fell heavily to the ground, screaming in pain. This caused complete chaos. Lauren’s mother and her relatives chased after me: “Bitch!” To avoid getting hurt, I ran from the stairs all the way down to the ground floor, shouting in terror: “Fire! Someone help!” The tactic worked. Soon people walking in the neighborhood gathered around. I immediately changed my story in panic: “No wait—it’s murder! Someone’s trying to kill me to take over my house.” At that moment, Lauren’s mother and the others came running down with kitchen knives and mops. Seeing me hiding behind a group of neighbors, they jumped up and down in frustration: “Bitch, you found more men to protect you in the blink of an eye. Come here if you dare.” The neighbors—both men and women—were immediately offended and started arguing with them. I said quietly: “Please call the police. They broke my phone.” Just then, Paul came down supporting Lauren. Seeing the situation, he immediately played the victim and explained to the neighbors: “Everyone, the truth is she owes me $200,000 and used this $150,000 house to settle the debt. Now she’s shamelessly trying to take it back.” “I have the transfer agreement in black and white with her signature—Lena’s name is right on it.” He pulled out a stack of documents to show everyone. The neighbors crowded forward. After reading the contents, they turned to me: “Are you Lena?” I sensed trouble: “That transfer agreement is definitely fake. I never signed it.” As soon as I said this, the neighbors’ expressions changed, their eyes filling with more wariness. Lauren then shouted indignantly: “She’s a pathological liar. Everyone stay away from her, or she’ll seduce your husbands next.” “If I hadn’t been home today, she would have stripped naked and thrown herself at my boyfriend. Absolutely shameless.” “When that didn’t work, she threatened to burn down the house. Tell me, doesn’t someone like her deserve a beating?” Under her baseless slander, the neighbors immediately turned against me, cursing me out: “You almost tricked us into wrongly accusing good people. How despicable.” Some of her relatives mixed into the crowd and shouted: “Yeah, someone like her needs a good beating to teach her a lesson so she won’t dare seduce other people’s men again.” One sentence made everyone clench their fists, ready to attack me. I tried to explain, but Lauren suddenly attacked from behind, kicking me hard: “That’s for trying to set a fire earlier! If it had actually caught, think of all the property damage. You don’t care because it’s not yours, right?” Her angry tone sounded righteous, making those who didn’t know the truth believe her, though her eyes couldn’t hide her smugness. Paul chimed in: “My girlfriend is absolutely right. This person grew up with me, and she’s not only a compulsive liar but also a gambling addict. Who knows how many men she’s been with for money. Everyone should watch out for trash like her.” After speaking, he put on a pained expression—utterly disgusting. I was in so much pain that cold sweat broke out on my forehead. Clutching my stomach, I struggled to stand: “Paul, every word you say carries legal consequences.” “Everyone, please call the property management. I never did any property transfer—one check will prove it.” Hearing this, Paul smirked: “Call them then. Who’s afraid? Only liars get nervous.”

The property management staff arrived quickly. Seeing thirty-plus people surrounding me so tightly I couldn’t move, they immediately realized the seriousness of the situation and hurried to understand what happened. “The owner registered here is Paul.” The property manager looked me up and down: “You… I think I’ve seen you more than once coming and going with different male owners from Phase Two.” His one sentence caused an immediate uproar. Especially those neighbors—with several of Lauren’s relatives constantly adding fuel to the fire, they unanimously viewed me as a homewrecker everyone should condemn. “Shameless! No wonder when she ran over just now, she crowded around the men. Turns out she’s a repeat offender.” “Exactly. So damn arrogant. We owners need to unite against sluts like her.” Accompanied by insults and abuse coming in waves, these people’s emotions grew increasingly angry, the scene nearly spiraling out of control. No matter how I explained, they wouldn’t listen. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the property manager and Paul exchanging knowing smirks. That’s when I remembered—when I bought the house, Paul had pushed hard to recommend this neighborhood. Clearly, he’d been planning to seize my property all along. How despicable. “Everyone, please listen to me…” I shouted with all my strength, but suddenly an old woman attacked me with spit: “Ptui! What more do you want to say? Stop playing tricks—we won’t fall for it.” The stench of her breath hit me in the face. I nearly vomited and had to quickly back away, but Lauren’s uncle grabbed my arm. “Right, this little slut is good at playing the victim to deceive people. A few days ago she said she had no money for food and would keep me company for two hours for just two hundred bucks. Scary.” Pretending to be an angry resident, he kept pushing and shoving me while taking the opportunity to grope me. I was furious and slapped him across the face. “You’re slandering me. I will sue…” Before I could finish, his face twisted viciously as he swung his fist at me. I tried to dodge, but two of Lauren’s relatives grabbed me directly, restraining my hands behind my back so I couldn’t move. He slapped me twice across the face, immediately making my mouth bleed. Paul applauded: “Well done! Trash like her deserves a good lesson. Everyone line up to slap her.” Hearing this, Lauren’s mother led her relatives to act first, slaps raining down one after another. Lauren covered her mouth and laughed from the side, shouting: “Bitch, you deserve this! This is what you get for seducing someone’s boyfriend.” Hearing this, Paul publicly kissed her: “Having a girlfriend to protect me is such bliss.” My face was swollen and painful from the beating. I kept struggling and explaining that the property transfer was fake, but no one would listen. “Paul, I have the property deed for this house. Do you?” Hearing my roar, Paul immediately had them stop: “Everyone hold on a moment. This woman still won’t give up—she insists on producing her property deed to slap me in the face.” “Should we give her one more chance?” Lauren and her group clearly didn’t want to, but under my adamant defense and some neighbors’ insistence, Paul showed some conscience and helped me call my parents. After waiting about half an hour, my parents and Paul’s mother rushed over. Before they could say a word to me, they hurried to produce the property deed. Opening it, everyone immediately panicked: “Let’s see you try to weasel out of this now!” Paul and Lauren exchanged glances, both their faces showing triumphant smiles. “Lena, we’ve been more than fair—gave you more than one chance. Your parents brought this property deed themselves. What more do you have to say?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “360723”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #魔幻Magic #惊悚Thriller #重生Reborn