I stared at my wife’s yoga pants in the laundry basket. The rip in these yoga pants was located right at the crotch. But now, the crotch area had a tear, like something sharp had violently ripped it open. What caught my attention even more was the suspicious white stain along the edge of the tear. It had dried and hardened into crusty patches that felt stiff to the touch. I leaned in closer and sniffed. A faint, fishy smell hit my nostrils, making my stomach churn. 1 “What are you looking at?” Cassandra’s voice came from behind me. I instinctively shoved the yoga pants back into the basket and turned around, forcing a smile. “Nothing, just finished doing laundry,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Oh.” She barely responded, completely distracted. “I’m going to the gym tonight. You’ll have to eat dinner alone.” “By the way,” I asked, trying to sound offhand, “how did your black yoga pants get ripped?” “Oh, that?” She kept scooping her yogurt. “I accidentally caught them on the equipment during my training session yesterday. So annoying.” “Really?” I studied her profile. “It’s torn pretty badly.” “Yeah,” she smiled slightly, “but it’s fine. I’ve had them forever anyway. I’ll just buy a new pair.” I watched her walk into the bedroom to change. My chest felt heavy, like a stone was lodged inside. I walked back to the laundry basket and picked up the yoga pants again. The edges of the tear were jagged and uneven, like something had forcibly stretched them open. As I examined them more carefully, I discovered a small electronic key fob sewn into the inside of the waistband. It had a series of numbers engraved on it: TS-032

TS stood for TotalSculpt, an upscale gym in our city. 0321 was a locker number. I remembered Cassandra had a membership there, but she usually went with Melissa. She rarely went alone. I was still thinking when Cassandra emerged, already changed. She wore gray sweatpants and a loose hoodie, looking fresh and put-together. “I’m leaving.” She grabbed her bag and headed for the door. “Wait,” I called out. “Why are you always going to the gym with Melissa lately?” She stopped and glanced back at me. Her eyes flickered with something I couldn’t read. “What do you mean? We’ve always gone together, haven’t we?” “But you used to only go on weekends. Why are you going every day now?” I asked cautiously. She smiled, her tone relaxed. “Work’s been stressful lately. I want to exercise more, you know, blow off some steam.” I nodded, saying nothing more. She turned and left. I stood by the window, watching her walk quickly toward the entrance of our apartment complex. A black SUV was already waiting there. The window rolled down. Melissa waved at her, and Cassandra opened the door and got in. The car quickly disappeared from view. I returned to the living room and picked up the yoga pants again, studying the electronic key fob closely. TotalSculpt’s VIP lockers were only available to premium members. Cassandra’s membership was just basic level. I pulled out my phone and searched for TotalSculpt’s website. Their VIP membership cost five figures annually and required strict approval to obtain. Cassandra made decent money, but not enough to splurge on something like that. I was still thinking when my phone suddenly buzzed. It was a text from an unknown number: “Wednesday, same place. Reshoots. Don’t forget.” 2 I stared at the text, unease creeping through me. Cassandra’s phone was sitting on the coffee table. She’d forgotten to take it when she left. I hesitated, then picked it up and unlocked it. Her passcode had always been my birthday. That small detail gave me a sliver of comfort. I opened her text messages and found that she’d been in frequent contact with an unknown number over the past few days. The messages were mostly brief exchanges like “See you Wednesday” and “Remember to bring clothes.” I scrolled to the top and found the first text, sent about a month ago: “Wednesday, 3 PM, gym VIP area. Remember to wear those black yoga pants.” My heart started racing. My hands trembled slightly. I kept scrolling and discovered they met every Wednesday, and each time, those black yoga pants were mentioned. The most recent text was from yesterday: “Great job today. Same time next week.” I put the phone down. My chest felt like it was being crushed by a boulder. I could barely breathe. Cassandra went to the gym every Wednesday, and she always wore those black yoga pants. And today, those pants were mysteriously torn and stained with suspicious white residue. I picked up the yoga pants again and examined the tear. The fabric along the edges had been ripped apart, like something had forcibly stretched it open. Suddenly, an idea struck me. I grabbed my phone and searched “yoga pants rip.” The results made me freeze. The first result was a post on an anonymous forum titled “Exposing the Hidden Camera Industry in Gyms.” I clicked on it. The original poster described in detail how people used locker rooms and equipment areas to secretly film female members. There was even a specialized “yoga pants series” because these pants were form-fitting and easily damaged, making them ideal targets for hidden cameras. My hands started shaking. I kept scrolling. The poster mentioned that perpetrators usually chose VIP area lockers because they were less crowded and had more blind spots in the surveillance system. They would also install tiny cameras inside the lockers, specifically to record women changing. I shot to my feet, grabbed my car keys, and rushed out. The gym wasn’t far from our place. It would only take ten minutes by car. I had to see for myself what was hidden in that VIP locker. I drove fast, my mind replaying Cassandra’s strange behavior lately. She’d been coming home late. Sometimes she had odd bruises on her body. When I asked, she’d say she accidentally bumped into equipment during her workout. She also frequently received texts from unknown numbers. Every time she read them, she’d look panicked and delete them immediately. I parked in front of the gym and rushed inside, heading straight for the VIP area. The security guard at the entrance stopped me. I pulled out the electronic key fob. He glanced at it and let me through. I found locker 0321, inserted the key, and the door clicked open. Inside, it was empty except for a small SD card lying quietly in the corner. I picked up the SD card. My fingers trembled. I knew this card contained something dark and secret. I found a corner, inserted the SD card into my phone, and opened the file manager. There was only one video file. I took a deep breath and opened it. The footage started out blurry but quickly sharpened. The camera was pointed at a dimly lit room. A few pieces of workout clothes hung on the wall, and a yoga mat was spread on the floor. A woman in black yoga pants had her back to the camera, doing stretching exercises. My heart pounded. I knew that silhouette all too well. It was Cassandra. She seemed completely unaware of the camera and continued doing various yoga poses. The angle of the shot was low, as if filmed from ground level, perfectly capturing her lower body. I forced myself to keep watching. Suddenly, the scene shifted. Cassandra walked toward the camera and crouched down, seemingly adjusting something. That’s when a hand suddenly reached out from off-camera and grabbed her ankle. Cassandra screamed, trying to pull away, but the hand was strong. It yanked her down to the ground. The footage shook violently. I could only vaguely make out Cassandra struggling on the floor. The owner of that hand never appeared on camera. The video ended abruptly. I stared at the black screen, my mind completely blank. 3 Cassandra had been assaulted and secretly filmed. I jumped to my feet and bolted out of the gym, driving straight home. I had to ask her what the hell was going on. But when I got home, Cassandra wasn’t there. Her phone was still on the table. I unlocked it and saw that the unknown number had sent another text: “Tonight, same place. Remember to wear those black yoga pants.” I gripped the phone tightly, a sense of dread washing over me. Tonight, I had to go to that “same place” myself and find out who was behind this. I sat on the couch, clutching Cassandra’s phone. That text felt like a thorn stabbing into my heart. The message was simple, but it sent chills down my spine: “Tonight, same place. Remember to wear those black yoga pants.” Same place? Where? The VIP area at the gym? Or somewhere else? I stared at the screen, my mind racing through Cassandra’s recent whereabouts. She went to the gym every Wednesday, but other than that, she didn’t seem to have any other regular destinations. I opened her SnapChat and scrolled through recent chats. Besides daily conversations with Melissa, there was a contact labeled “Trainer” that caught my attention. Their chat history was brief, mostly scheduling training sessions. But the most recent messages seemed strange. “Tonight, same place. Remember to wear those black yoga pants.” This was the latest message from him, identical to the text on Cassandra’s phone. I frowned and clicked on his profile picture. It showed a middle-aged man, around forty, with a muscular build. He wore a tight athletic tank top with the gym’s staff badge hanging from his neck. His name was Marcus. He was Cassandra’s personal trainer. I kept scrolling through their chat history. Starting about a month ago, Marcus had been frequently asking Cassandra for “extra sessions.” And every time, he specifically reminded her to wear those black yoga pants. Cassandra’s replies were mostly “Okay” and “Got it.” Occasionally she’d ask some training-related questions. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary on the surface. But that torn pair of yoga pants and the video on the SD card made it impossible for me to believe in this facade of normalcy anymore. I decided to go to Total Sculpt myself and see what the hell Marcus was really up to. I drove to the gym and walked straight to the front desk. The receptionist smiled and asked what she could help me with. I showed her Cassandra’s membership card and said I wanted to see Marcus, the trainer. “Marcus is teaching a class right now. You can wait in the lounge area.” The receptionist pointed to the sofa section nearby. I nodded and walked over to the lounge, but my eyes stayed fixed on the training area. Before long, I saw Marcus walk out of a private training room. Behind him was a tall, slender woman. It was Cassandra. She wore a tight athletic tank top and black yoga pants. The same style as the ones with the torn crotch. Her hair was pulled back in a high ponytail. Her face was flushed from exercise. She looked energized. Marcus said something to her, then patted her shoulder and turned toward another training room. Cassandra headed for the locker room, apparently getting ready to change and leave. I stood up and quickly followed her. The locker room door was slightly ajar. I stood outside and heard Cassandra talking with Melissa inside. “Why are you so late today?” Melissa sounded annoyed. “Marcus said he wanted to do extra training, so I stayed a bit longer.” Cassandra’s tone sounded tired. “Extra training? Did he make you wear those yoga pants again?” Melissa’s voice suddenly rose. “Yeah, he said these pants help with the training.” Cassandra’s voice dropped, sounding somewhat guilty. “Help with training? I think he has ulterior motives!” Melissa gave a cold laugh. “Do you know his reputation at this gym has been really bad lately? I’ve heard he’s constantly putting his hands on female members.” “Don’t say that. Marcus is a good guy. He’s just helping me correct my form.” Cassandra’s tone became urgent, as if defending herself. “Correcting your form? Then why does he make you wear those pants every single time? Don’t you think that’s weird?” Melissa’s voice carried a hint of mockery. “I…” Cassandra fell silent, seeming unsure how to respond. I stood outside the door, my chest tightening. Melissa’s words made me even more certain that Marcus’s “extra sessions” with Cassandra were definitely suspicious. 4 I was still thinking when the locker room door suddenly swung open. Melissa walked out and froze when she saw me standing at the entrance. “What are you doing here?” Her tone was surprised, but she quickly regained her composure. “I came to pick up Cassandra.” I said flatly, though my eyes stayed fixed on her face. Melissa’s expression was somewhat strange. She glanced back at the locker room, then lowered her voice. “You better be careful. Marcus isn’t a good person.” I nodded, saying nothing more. Melissa turned and left. I walked into the locker room and saw Cassandra sitting on a bench, changing her shoes. She looked up, surprised to see me. “What are you doing here?” Her tone was flustered, as if she hadn’t expected me to show up. “I came to pick you up.” I walked over to her side. My eyes landed on the yoga pants she was wearing. The crotch area was intact. These clearly weren’t the ones I’d found in the washing machine. Cassandra noticed my gaze and instinctively tugged at her waistband, as if trying to hide something. I crouched down, grasped her wrist, and asked quietly, “Have you been hiding something from me lately?” Her body stiffened. Her eyes flickered. “No, why would you think that?” I stared into her eyes, trying to read something in her expression. Her gaze was evasive. She seemed afraid to look directly at me. I took a deep breath and decided to lay it all out. “I found a torn pair of yoga pants in the laundry. The crotch had white stains on it.” I said quietly, my voice carrying suppressed anger. Cassandra’s face instantly turned pale. She jerked her hand away and stood up, trying to leave. I grabbed her and pressed her back down onto the bench. “What exactly are you hiding from me?” My voice trembled slightly. An uneasy feeling surged through me. Cassandra kept her head down, her hands gripping the hem of her clothes tightly. She seemed to be having an intense internal struggle. After a long moment, she finally said quietly, “I… I don’t know how to tell you.” “Then start from the beginning.” I forced myself to calm down and sat beside her, holding her hand. Cassandra was silent for a while before finally speaking. “A month ago, Marcus suddenly approached me and said my posture had problems. He said I needed extra training to correct it. He told me to come to the gym every Wednesday night wearing those black yoga pants so he could see my movements more clearly.” “And then?” I pressed. “At first, he really was helping me correct my form, but later…” Cassandra’s voice trembled. “He started putting his hands on me, saying it was to help relax my muscles, but I felt really uncomfortable.” My heart sank. I squeezed her hand, signaling her to continue. “I tried to refuse him, but he threatened me. He said if I didn’t cooperate, he’d post videos of my training sessions online.” Cassandra’s voice carried a hint of tears. “I… I didn’t know what to do. I could only listen to him.” I took a deep breath, trying to suppress the fury rising inside me. That bastard Marcus was using such despicable methods to threaten Cassandra. I clenched my fists, silently vowing to make him pay.

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My sight returned, and I immediately went looking for my husband, Caleb Sterling. But instead, I overheard one of his friends say to him: “Caleb, Iris has been blind for two years. To be with Scarlett, you had Leo impersonate you. Aren’t you worried he might actually sleep with Iris?” “No way,” Caleb said confidently. “Leo would never betray me!” Catching a glimpse of Caleb’s indifferent expression, my heart turned cold. If you want a different wife, then fine. As you wish, I’ll get myself a new husband too. 1 Looking back, I should have seen the signs much earlier. During the two years I was blind, my husband had grown increasingly distant, almost cold. Blind and vulnerable, even when suspicions gnawed at me, my insecurity kept my lips sealed. Lost in thought, the front door clicked open. Behind me, Leo’s voice, deliberately hushed, spoke: “Iris, I’m home.” Leo’s voice was already so similar to Caleb’s, and with his deliberate imitation, it’s no wonder I never caught on for two whole years. I lifted my gaze, my eyes sweeping over the handsome man before me. I couldn’t fathom why he’d be willing to cooperate with Caleb, playing this charade with me for two years. But if they wanted to play, I’d play along to the very end. I pretended not to see, groping my way to Leo, and wrapped my arms around his waist. “Honey, you’re home.” I squeezed his waist tightly, my hand lingering, almost provocatively, on his hard abs. For two years, Leo had been incredibly restrained. Even sharing the same bed, he meticulously maintained his distance, never once touching me intimately. Startled by my sudden forwardness, he stiffened for a moment, his voice tight. “Iris… what’s gotten into you today?” I squeezed out a few fake tears, feigning a wronged tone as I asked him, “Caleb, ever since I lost my sight, you haven’t touched me. Are you… disgusted by me?” Leo’s expression faltered. He lowered his voice, trying to comfort me. “No, you’re overthinking it… You were in a car accident two years ago. Your eyes were injured, and you had multiple fractures. It took you a year and a half to recover. I was just worried about your health.” “I’m perfectly fine now.” I groped around, reaching out to unbutton his shirt, my hand sliding over his firm chest. “Two years. You must have been struggling to hold back, huh?” Leo’s Adam’s apple bobbed, his voice turning husky. “It’s… fine.” I leaned in and blew gently on his throat. “I want you right now.” Before I could finish, his phone rang. “I need to take this.” Leo let out a subtle sigh of relief, taking the phone to the balcony. I hid by the window, catching Caleb’s lazy voice from Leo’s phone speaker: “Leo, it’s Grandfather Sterling’s birthday tomorrow. I need to bring Iris with me.” Leo paused for two seconds. “Alright.” “I haven’t seen him in months. Fill me in on Iris’s situation so we don’t accidentally give ourselves away.” I listened, stunned, a wave of bitter self-mockery washing over me. Ten years ago, I was the one who relentlessly pursued Caleb. I thought he’d eventually fall in love with me after we got married, but perhaps love shouldn’t be forced after all. 2 That night, I initiated, holding Leo close as we slept. I could distinctly feel the tension in Leo’s body. The next morning, Leo was already gone. Instead, Caleb, dressed formally, appeared by the bed, smiling. “Awake? Get up and get ready. We’re going to Grandfather’s birthday party.” I stretched languidly, feigning a playful whine. “Honey, you were so wild last night, my back still aches a little.” Caleb’s smile instantly froze, replaced by an ugly scowl. On the way to the Sterling family mansion, he remained silent the entire ride. At the birthday party, I not only saw Leo but also Caleb’s mistress, Scarlett. Scarlett’s face was a mask of disdain and mockery. I pretended not to see a thing, outright ignoring her. Midway through the party, I went to the restroom. Emerging from the stall, I saw Scarlett walking towards me. As she brushed past me, *splash!* Scarlett emptied her glass of red wine right over my head. “Oh, dear, my apologies. My hand just… slipped.” Calmly, I grabbed the mop leaning by the bathroom door, lifted it, and swung it hard across her face. “Ah!” Scarlett shrieked, utterly distraught. “Iris, what the hell are you doing?!” I feigned a belated apology. “Oh, I’m so sorry, my eyes just don’t see anything.” Scarlett, covered in filth, shrieked, her hand raised to slap me. I swung the mop at her face again. “Stop it!” Two voices simultaneously rang out from behind me. Caleb and Leo strode towards us, faces grim, followed by several staff members. Scarlett, tear-streaked and looking utterly distraught, threw herself into Caleb’s arms, whimpering out her accusations. “Caleb, your wife just hit me with a mop! I didn’t even provoke her, why does she keep doing this? You have to defend me!” “Iris, apologize!” Caleb’s voice was frigid. I groped blindly, stumbling into Leo’s arms. “Honey, I’m so sorry. My eyes just don’t see. I didn’t mean it, please don’t be angry with me, okay?” Caleb stood rigid, his face a thunderous mask as he glared at me, absolutely fuming. Leo patted my back, his voice a low whisper. “I’m not angry. You don’t need to blame yourself.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Caleb’s face darken to an inky black. A flicker of dark satisfaction shot through me. I deliberately leaned into Leo’s chest, sniffing. “Sweetheart, I’m all wet and uncomfortable. Could you help me take a shower? And maybe give me a back rub…” Leo’s hand, which had been patting my back, stiffened. His voice was strained. “Okay!” “Where are the housekeepers?” A flicker of dark displeasure and raw fury crossed Caleb’s brow as he cut us off, his voice sharp. “Take Mrs. Sterling to the bathroom!” 3 After changing, I unexpectedly stumbled upon Caleb and Leo chatting in the hallway. Caleb’s face was grim as he demanded, his voice frigid, from Leo, “Leo, didn’t you used to say you weren’t interested in women?” Leo lit a cigarette, taking a slow drag. “That was before. I’m a normal man. When a woman with a body like hers keeps practically throwing herself at me, of course I’m going to react.” Caleb looked utterly disbelieving, his face paling with anger. “But Iris is blind! Leo, you have to promise me, no matter how tempting it gets, you absolutely cannot touch Iris! No matter how much you play along, she’s still my wife.” “You still remember she’s your wife?” Leo nonchalantly puffed out a smoke ring, his expression mocking. “For the past two years, you’ve only cared about Scarlett. Have you shown your wife any concern, even for a single day?” Caleb fell silent. Leo scoffed, “If you’re so infatuated with Scarlett, why don’t you just divorce Iris already?” “I can’t divorce her!” Caleb’s reaction was agitated. “Iris and I grew up together; I still have feelings for her… But I’ve pursued Scarlett for so many years, and she’s finally accepted me. I don’t want to let her go either…” “Hmph,” Leo snuffed out his cigarette, letting out a disdainful scoff. “Scumbag.” I didn’t listen any further, turning and walking away. Caleb Sterling, you want to keep your mistress, but you don’t want to abandon your wife. But in this world, you can’t have your cake and eat it too, can you? The party ended, and Caleb drove me home. As we neared the house, I saw Leo waiting at the doorstep. After handing me over to Leo, Caleb left without a single backward glance, as if he couldn’t care less. Once home, I went straight into the bathroom. A few minutes later, I called out from the bathroom. “Honey, I just slipped and bumped my shoulder. Could you come in and help me put some medicine on it?” Soon, the bathroom door clicked open. Leo walked in, holding a tube of ointment. I was loosely wrapped in a bath towel, my hair damp, water still dripping onto my skin. Leo stared at me, frozen for two seconds, then hastily averted his gaze, fumbling self-consciously to squeeze the ointment from the tube. I feigned another slip, *plop*, falling straight into his arms. The towel slipped with a *swish*, pooling at my feet. Our bodies, hot and charged, pressed together. Leo’s ears flushed crimson, and he awkwardly tried to push me away. “Iris…” I directly covered his lips with mine. Leo stiffened for a moment, then finally gave up struggling, holding the back of my head as he returned the kiss with a fiery passion. Between gasps, I reached for his belt, my voice a husky whisper. “Sweetheart, we’ve been married for so long. It’s time we had a baby.” His Adam’s apple bobbed convulsively, his voice rough with desire. “Okay, whatever you want.” With that, he lifted me into the bedroom. His phone rang then. Leo simply hung up. “Aren’t you going to answer…” Before I could finish, he silenced me with another kiss, then parted my legs. From afternoon until late into the night, Leo was like a beast unleashed, tirelessly, relentlessly claiming me. I was so exhausted I fell straight into a deep sleep. In a haze of sleep, I vaguely heard Leo answer a phone call, his voice hushed. “I know. I won’t touch her. If you don’t believe me, then fine.” After hanging up, Leo must have thought I was asleep. He leaned in, whispering softly in my ear: “Iris, why is it always Caleb Sterling you want?” I wanted to tell him that I wouldn’t want him anymore. But I was utterly exhausted, drifting into a heavy sleep.

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At a family dinner, Lila suddenly announced, “I’m pregnant. The baby is Chase’s.” Chase was my fiancé. Lila was the widow of his deceased older brother. I stared at Chase, dumbfounded, but he just nodded. “That’s right, the baby is mine.” “My brother died saving me; I owe him my life. It’s only right that I give him a child.” Chase turned to me. “Lila and I never slept together. This baby is from IVF.” “Our wedding will be postponed. We’ll have it after she gives birth.” Later, I found him lying in Lila’s bed late at night… My heart died instantly. Chase, I don’t have to love you. Numbly, I dialed my dad’s number. “Dad, that thing you mentioned last time? I agree to it.” After hanging up, I turned to find Lila standing right behind me. One hand caressed her still-flat stomach, the other rested on her hip. She raised an eyebrow, her voice taking on a demanding tone. “Jade, go get me a glass of warm milk.” She acted utterly imperious. I scoffed. “Do you really think you deserve that?” She’d always disliked me, constantly badmouthing me to Chase. But for Chase’s sake, I’d always just ignored her. Now that I’d agreed to Dad’s plan, I didn’t need to tolerate her anymore. Lila’s face lit up with triumph. “I’m carrying the Sterling family’s precious heir! How dare you talk to me like that?” The ‘Sterling family,’ huh? Do they think they’re royalty or something? The next second, she grabbed my hand, then deliberately tumbled to the ground. Thud! Suddenly, a strong shove sent me sprawling. An icy surge of pain shot through my old ankle injury. That was six months ago, when Chase and I went hiking. He’d been bitten by a venomous snake, falling unconscious. My petite frame struggled to carry his much taller, muscular build down the mountain, and I twisted my ankle on the way. The doctor was amazed I had the strength to literally carry my muscular boyfriend down that mountain. Back then, Chase had cried, overwhelmed with gratitude. “Jade, I swear I’ll love you with my life!” But now? The moment something involved Lila, he completely lost it. He rushed over, not even bothering to ask whose fault it was, and roughly pushed me down. He meticulously checked if Lila was hurt, completely ignoring me. Lila burrowed into his arms, sniffling dramatically, then guided his hand to her stomach. She started her accusations. “The baby wants milk, I just asked Jade to warm some for me, and she pushed me…” Chase turned, his eyes blazing with fury at me. “Do you have any idea how much Lila has suffered to give my brother a child? How difficult IVF is? How can you be so cruel? If anything happens to this baby, then there’s no point in us getting married!” I gritted my teeth against the searing pain in my ankle. “Why bother with IVF? You could have just slept with her directly, gotten it over with. You both would have had your fun, and a baby.” Chase’s face turned beet red with rage. “Jade, when did you become such a shrew? This is my brother’s widow; I won’t allow you to insult her.” “Apologize to her!!” Lila sobbed harder, buried in Chase’s arms. I forced a bitter smile. “Let’s break up.” Lila cried even louder, clutching her waist as if trying to get up from Chase’s lap, but he held her tighter. Her voice was delicate and weak. “Chase, don’t blame Jade. I just felt dizzy and lost my balance. I’m fine, really. You should go comfort Jade.” Chase patted her back soothingly. Then, in a cold voice, he told me, “Jade, when will you ever be as sensible as Lila?” Lila suddenly let out a small gasp, whimpering, “Chase, my tummy hurts a little. Will you carry me back to the bedroom to rest?” As soon as she finished speaking, Chase immediately scooped Lila up and rushed away. I couldn’t hold back any longer. “Chase, are you blind? My old ankle injury is acting up again, can’t you see?!” He only paused for a single second, then his footsteps, firm and decisive, carried Lila away. My throat tightened, tears streaming down my face. I limped alone to the guest room to find some pain relief. Chase didn’t show his face the entire night. Well, of course not. Every time we argued, I was the one who always apologized first, who always tried to win him back. Not this time.

In the middle of the night, I woke up to use the bathroom. The light in Chase’s bedroom was still on. I didn’t care, but as I passed his room, I heard voices from inside. “Lila, I promised you a child, and now you’re pregnant. Let’s go back to how we were, just family. Jade has a bad temper; I’ll apologize for her. I hope you won’t hold it against her.” Lila was dressed in something very light, a sexy lace nightgown accentuating her figure. Her voice was soft and gentle. “Chase, don’t worry, I won’t ruin your relationship. I just miss your brother so much.” “Your brother always wanted a child before he died; you’re just making his dream come true. Jade loves you so much, she won’t blame you.” “Chase, just let me hold you, okay? Let this baby feel a little bit of a father’s love. After all, he is your child.” Chase and I had been together for five years. We’d done everything couples do, except go all the way. He said he wanted us to save our first time for our wedding night. I believed in his willpower, I believed he’d always respect that boundary. But my fiancé having a child with another woman? I still couldn’t accept it. I’d fallen for him at first sight in freshman year. He was clean-cut handsome, with a lot of girls chasing him. I knew his family wasn’t well-off, so to avoid making him feel insecure, I hid my identity as an heiress to billions, pretending to be a simple girl from a humble background. It took me six months to finally win him over. The day my true identity was revealed, he was angry with me for two weeks straight. It took me ages to win him back. My whole world revolved around him; I agreed to everything he said. He told me not to give him expensive gifts, so I’d tell him they were fakes. I bought him a Hermes outfit, and he’d take me to a street stall to buy a cheap dress. I gave him a Rolex watch, and he’d hand-braid a bracelet for me. He never took advantage of me, except for one thing: after graduation, I begged my dad to pull some strings and get him into a top law firm in New York. Chase proved himself capable too; a year later, he partnered with a colleague to open a new law firm. Now, Lila threw herself into Chase’s arms, her chest pressed tightly against his, gently rubbing against him. Lila’s chest was already ample, and pregnancy had made it even fuller. Her soft curves strained against the thin fabric, almost spilling out. Chase’s hand, which had initially been about to push her away, slowly lowered, then rested on her shoulder. His Adam’s apple bobbed distinctly. I could see his struggle, his raw desire. A passionate, unrestrained night was about to begin. I didn’t want to watch the live show. I fled to the bathroom as fast as I could. Lila was constantly seducing him like this; they must be together every single night. Chase was a man, after all. What man doesn’t have those desires? Guess men only behave when they’re dead. Whatever. Since I was leaving, whatever he did with Lila wouldn’t be my business anymore. But my heart still ached, like being pricked with needles. Five years of my love, wasted on a dog.

In the bathroom, the more I thought, the more wronged I felt. Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably. I wiped my eyes and splashed cold water on my face. Just then, Lila came in to use the bathroom. She deliberately tugged at the neckline of her nightgown. It revealed a bright red hickey, a clear sign of how intense things had just been. “You saw it all, didn’t you? Oh, and let me tell you a secret: this baby isn’t from IVF.” She leaned close to my ear. “Chase and I slept together without protection so many times. The first time, his hands were even shaking from nerves~” “Jade, aren’t you disgusted by a man who’s slept with me…?” If it were my old fiery temper, I would have slapped her across the face multiple times. These past few years dating Chase had definitely mellowed me out. Instead of getting angry, I laughed. “You two are messed up! If Spencer knew what you two were doing, he’d be so furious he’d crawl out of his grave and strangle both of you bitches!” “And that baby in your belly is pretty unlucky. Will it call Chase ‘Dad’ later, or ‘Uncle’?” “Jade, you!” Lila stamped her foot in frustration, too angry to speak. “You two jerks are perfect for each other!” Unable to argue back, she grabbed the perfume bottle from the sink and hurled it at my head. The bottle whizzed past my scalp and shattered on the floor. Chase, hearing the commotion, assumed I had started it. He rushed in, his hands like vises around my neck, pinning me hard against the wall. My back felt icy cold. His eyes blazed with fury; he looked like he wanted to kill me. “I’m the one who postponed the wedding, so why are you still bothering Lila?” “She’s pregnant, can’t you just give her a break? How many times do I have to tell you, there’s nothing inappropriate between us.” Just then, Lila cried out, “Chase, I have a piece of glass in my leg, and it’s bleeding!” Chase immediately let go of my neck. The glass in Lila’s leg was from the shattered perfume bottle. Chase scooped her up anxiously. “I’m taking you to the hospital.” A large shard of glass was embedded in my arm, oozing blood. He didn’t even notice. I clenched my jaw against the pain, pulled out my phone, called a car, and limped into the taxi. I went to the hospital alone to get my wound bandaged. Outside the emergency room. Chase looked at me with annoyance. “Are you stalking us?” “Jade, can you stop being so selfish? She’s my brother’s widow. My brother died saving me, and it’s my responsibility to take care of her and her baby. If you keep acting so unreasonable, then forget about us getting married!” I said coldly, “I’m not that bored to stalk you, and I’m certainly not bored enough to bother Lila.” Only then did Chase notice my injured arm. He explained apologetically, “Jade, Lila’s pregnant with Spencer’s posthumous child. Our whole family hopes she can safely deliver this baby. I was too impulsive just now. I’ll go with you to register.” Did Spencer know his wife was carrying his brother’s child? The irony! The next second, Lila’s voice came from the consultation room. “Chase, the doctor is going to remove the glass. I’m scared.” Chase turned to me. “Jade, you go see the doctor by yourself. Lila’s timid; I need to stay with her.” This scumbag, I absolutely had to break up with him as soon as possible!

Saturday was a classmate’s birthday party. I accepted the invitation, hoping to clear my head. Who knew I’d see Chase there with Lila? Chase, Lila, and I were all college classmates. Lila had chased after Chase just like I had. Under my relentless pursuit, I finally won Chase’s heart. Lila, meanwhile, married Chase’s older brother, Spencer. At the party, during dinner, Chase peeled a big bowl of shrimp and placed it in front of Lila. He carefully reminded her, “Don’t be picky, eat more shrimp; it’s good for the baby’s development.” A classmate teased, “Chase is so good to his brother’s widow! You peeled all the shrimp on this table for Lila. Aren’t you afraid Jade will get mad?” He smiled and said, “Jade doesn’t like shrimp.” The classmate noticed my displeasure and cleverly changed the subject. “Are we going to Jade and Chase’s wedding soon?” “Back in college, I was always so envious of Chase for getting such a beautiful girlfriend. Chase, you really need to cherish Jade.” I couldn’t stand to hear any more. “Hold it, hold it, everyone! You’re all welcome at my wedding, but it won’t be with Chase. We’re done. The groom will be someone else. My actual future husband wouldn’t appreciate hearing you talk like this!” “Jade!” Chase called my name, his voice tight with anger. He explained to our classmates, “Excuse me, everyone, we just had a bit of a disagreement. Jade is saying things out of anger. Our wedding will still happen, it’s just postponed for a few months. My brother passed away last month, my parents are still grieving, and Lila is pregnant, so we simply don’t have the emotional energy to arrange our wedding right now.” Our classmates all expressed understanding, urging me to be more forgiving. “The wedding is just a few months later. You and Chase have been together for so many years; a few more months won’t hurt.” As if I was the unreasonable one. Using a trip to the restroom as an excuse, I left the private room to get some fresh air. The back lounge of the venue had an infinity pool with a beautiful view. I was completely lost in thought, admiring the scenery. Lila’s voice broke the silence. “If I were you, I would have told them the truth just now.” I looked up at her, about to speak. The woman suddenly grabbed me and yanked me into the water. I’d had a fear of water ever since I was a child. Chase knew this too. He’d suggested we go to the beach multiple times, but I always refused. He said the best way to conquer fear was to face it. But I was just terrified. Today, I was just too angry, which was why I was standing so close to the pool’s edge. Chase jumped into the pool without a moment’s hesitation. He brushed right past me. He was saving Lila. It was so clear who he loved and who he didn’t. My heart froze solid in that moment. I slowly sank deeper into the water. Just as despair consumed me, a pair of strong hands reached out and pulled me.

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My best friend is marrying my grandfather, a man forty years older than her. In my last life, I broke down trying to stop her. I warned her, begged her, tried to tear her away from him. She repaid me by teaming up with my fiancé and killing me. This time, I don’t argue. I simply hold my grandfather’s secret diary in my hands and smile at her. “Congratulations,” I say. “It’s finally your turn.” “I saw your grandfather at the charity gala yesterday. He even complimented me, saying I reminded him of his first love when he was young.” Hailey said, clutching her coffee cup, her eyes sparkling with excitement. She grabbed my hand, her gaze filled with calculation. “I want to pursue your grandfather.” I was utterly stunned. “Are you insane? He’s forty years older than you!” “Age is just a number! Besides, he doesn’t look a day over forty, not even close to his sixties.” In my last life, this was where I stopped her, sternly warning her to stay away from my grandfather. She’d flashed a twisted smile. “Emily Parker, who do you think you are? Why are you blocking my path?” Later, my grandfather married someone around our age, and they had a grand wedding. Full of hatred, Hailey pushed me off a cliff. “This is all your fault for stopping me from marrying into the Parker family! Everything should have been mine!” But now, I just watched her, silently observing the undisguised greed in her eyes. My grandfather, Wesley Parker, was the patriarch of Parker Enterprises, worth billions. “You don’t object?” Hailey seemed surprised by my silence. I picked up my coffee, a meaningful smile playing on my lips. “Why would I object?” “Everyone has the right to pursue happiness, and love shouldn’t be limited by age, right?” Her eyes lit up; she clearly hadn’t expected it to go so smoothly. Hailey excitedly hugged me. “That’s great! I knew you’d understand me!” “Don’t worry, once I become your grandmother, I won’t treat you unfairly!” Where she couldn’t see, my smile completely vanished. I softly murmured, “I wish you success.” Grandfather had already married eight other women in the past ten years, and she was about to become the ninth. Only, she didn’t know that all eight previous brides had met untimely ends. As I stepped out of the coffee shop, I stood by the curb, waiting for my driver. A black Mercedes-Benz pulled up slowly in front of me. The window rolled down, revealing Mr. Jenkins, the butler. “Miss Emily, Mr. Parker requests your presence for dinner tonight.” “Alright.” I opened the car door and slid inside. “Mr. Jenkins,” I suddenly said, “How has Grandfather’s health been lately?” The old butler glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “Mr. Parker is in excellent health. Last week’s check-up showed all his vital signs were twenty years younger than his actual age.” My fists clenched. In my last life, I had never doubted my grandfather. Now, looking back, many things seemed highly suspicious. The most unsettling part was that whenever a bride died, Grandfather was always away on a business trip, with a perfect alibi. He always seemed strangely indifferent after their deaths. During dinner, I observed Grandfather. He did indeed look much younger than his actual age. “I heard you met the Miller girl today?” My body tensed. How did Grandfather know? Unless he had been monitoring me, or Hailey. “Yes, Hailey, she’s my best friend.” A slight smile played on Grandfather’s lips. “She’s a very vibrant girl. My birthday celebration is in two days. You can invite her to come over tomorrow and stay until the party ends.” In my last life, I had tried everything to keep Hailey away from Grandfather, so she never received a formal invitation from the Parker family. “Of course,” I replied sweetly. After dinner, Grandfather always took a stroll in the garden. I used this opportunity to find the secret compartment in his study. My mother had told me about it before she died, but I had never opened it. Behind a copy of the Bible on the third shelf, there was a hidden button. Pressing it revealed a small secret room. On a desk inside the room lay a notebook and a safe. My hands trembling, I opened the notebook. What I saw almost made me scream.

It was a list, neatly recording eight names, along with their wedding and death dates. Each name had a photo attached, and to my horror, I noticed that these women shared certain similarities. The shape of their eyes, the curve of their lips, especially the last three—they were almost like replicas of the same type. On the last page was the ninth name: Hailey. A red question mark was drawn next to it, and the date column was blank. My gaze was drawn to the safe. My gut told me it held an even more terrifying secret. But the safe required both a fingerprint and a password, so I couldn’t open it. Suddenly, I heard footsteps approaching the door. I hastily closed the notebook and ducked behind the curtains. The study door opened, and Grandfather and the butler walked in. “The ninth one should be the most suitable,” Grandfather’s voice was low and calm. “Her birth attributes match perfectly.” “We’ll finally have all nine. Bring that Hailey to me tomorrow.” “Yes, Mr. Parker.” After they left, I collapsed onto the floor, my back drenched in cold sweat. Grandfather knew Hailey, and it seemed he was actively planning something. Even more terrifying, he appeared to be performing some kind of… ritual that required nine brides? The next day, my phone vibrated. It was a message from Hailey. “Emily! Amazing news! I received a formal invitation from the Parker family! Can I come over to your place today?” I stared at the screen, a cold smile slowly spreading across my face. “Of course, you’re more than welcome.” Hailey spent two days at Parker Manor, and I did my best to create opportunities for her and Grandfather to be alone. On the day of the birthday celebration, all the prominent figures in the city were present. I stood in a corner, watching with detached eyes as Hailey clung to Grandfather’s arm, smiling flirtatiously. Things were progressing quickly between them. It seemed both were quite eager. “Ladies and gentlemen,” Grandfather, Wesley Parker, stood on the grand staircase, gently patting Hailey’s hand. His voice was steady and authoritative. “Thank you all for coming to my birthday celebration. Today, I have some joyous news to announce.” The entire hall fell silent, all eyes fixed on them. “Hailey and I have found a deep connection and decided to get married.” “The wedding will be in three days, and everyone is welcome to attend our ceremony.” Though I had anticipated it, hearing the words aloud made my heart involuntarily tremble. The guests were briefly stunned, then erupted into a chorus of insincere congratulations. After all, a sixty-year-old business magnate marrying a woman in her twenties wasn’t uncommon in high society. As long as there was enough money, age was never an issue. Hailey wore a triumphant smile, her gaze sweeping through the crowd before finally landing on me. Was she flaunting it? I calmly took a sip of champagne, a slight smile on my lips, and even walked forward. I spoke softly, “Congratulations, Grandfather. Congratulations, Hailey.” Grandfather nodded in satisfaction, while Hailey narrowed her eyes slightly, seemingly surprised by my composure. And so, she eagerly bared her claws.

“Oh, by the way, Emily.” She feigned intimacy, taking my hand, but her voice was deliberately loud enough for everyone around to hear. “Since I’m now the future mistress of Parker Manor, there are some things I need to handle for you.” “Oh? What things?” She stared at me, enunciating each word. “Your engagement with young Master Miller? It’s time to call it off.” The Millers—long-standing family friends of the Parkers. Landon Miller, the only son of the Miller family, and I had been engaged since childhood. Though it was an arranged marriage, Landon had always treated me incredibly well. And now, Hailey wanted to force me to break off the engagement? Before I could speak, Grandfather actually nodded. “Hailey is right. The Millers’ business has been struggling lately, not fitting our family’s standing. Emily, this engagement? It’s over.” My breath hitched. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Landon standing nearby, his wine glass almost shattering in his hand. “Grandfather,” I heard my voice tremble, “My engagement with Landon was arranged by our ancestors…” “That was all in the past.” Grandfather waved a dismissive hand, and an attendant immediately offered him a cigar. He took a deep puff. “What’s the Miller family’s situation now? Do they even deserve to be associated with us?” Whispers started to spread through the banquet hall. I saw Landon’s face turn ashen, while Hailey smirked at me triumphantly. “Grandfather!” I dropped to my knees before him. “Please reconsider. While the Miller family might be struggling now, Landon—” Smash! Hailey suddenly threw her hand up, knocking over a tray of red wine a server was carrying. The red wine poured down over my head. Guests exchanged glances, some snickering softly, others looking on with pity. “Oops, my hand slipped.” She feigned surprise, covering her mouth, but then leaned down and whispered in my ear, in a voice only I could hear. “You think begging on your knees will work? Let me tell you, after tonight, you won’t even have the right to kneel.” I looked up at her, astonished. “Enough!” Grandfather pulled his hand away from me. “This matter is settled!” Landon crushed his wine glass, glaring intensely at Hailey. As I went upstairs to change, I saw Landon and Hailey embracing in the hallway corner. “Hailey, how was my acting? She even knelt for me.” “Constantly parading around as your fiancée, it’s irritating.” My heart ached. I hadn’t realized they were already involved. My judgment of people was truly terrible. “You disgusting cheats!” I swore. Landon chuckled softly. “Watching you beg like a fool, thinking we’d actually get married.” Hailey giggled, leaning into his arms. “Your man has been mine for ages.” They were both sickening. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll tell Grandfather?” “Go ahead!” Hailey taunted, unafraid. “See who he believes—you, or me.” “Once the old man dies, everything at Parker Manor will be ours.” Landon fantasized, his arm around her waist. “I thought we were best friends.” Hailey sneered. “Hmph, friends. Don’t play innocent. In your eyes, I was just a dog. You’d throw me scraps when you pitied me. I’m sick of it!” “Now I’m above you, and you’ll dance to my tune!” I remembered how, back in college, Hailey couldn’t afford tuition, so I paid for it. When she ran out of living expenses, I shared everything I had. Later, when her mother fell critically ill, I immediately arranged for her to be admitted to the best hospital. And in her eyes, all that was just pity? I should have let her starve! I was so angry, I laughed. “Then consider everything I ever did for you wasted.” I wasn’t in a hurry, because soon enough, they would both get what they deserved.

After the birthday celebration, Hailey officially moved into Parker Manor as the future Mrs. Parker. The first thing she did was take my room. “Emily, this room has the best light, it’s perfect for me,” she said, leaning against the doorframe. “You’ll be moving out soon anyway, why not get used to it beforehand?” I stood in the hallway, calmly looking at her. “If you like it, it’s yours.” She narrowed her eyes, seemingly displeased by my compliance, then sneered. “Oh, by the way, Wesley said your allowance will be handled by me from now on. After all, you’re not a child anymore, you should learn to be frugal.” She pulled a card from her designer purse and handed it to me. “Five thousand a month. Enough?” Five thousand. It wasn’t even enough for a single bracelet I used to buy on a whim. I reached out and took the card, offering a small smile. “Thank you, Grandma.” Her expression froze for a moment, clearly stung by the address, but she quickly reverted to her arrogant demeanor. “Such a good girl.” I turned and went to the guest room. But the next day, Hailey dragged me to her walk-in closet. “Emily, look, isn’t my wedding dress beautiful?” She unfurled a pure white wedding gown, its skirt adorned with countless tiny diamonds, shimmering brilliantly under the light. I nodded. “It’s very pretty.” She suddenly sighed, feigning regret. “Actually, I originally wanted to choose your mother’s antique wedding gown from back then, but Wesley said it was bad luck.” My blood instantly ran cold. How dare she mention my mother?! In my last life, my mother had died in Parker Manor, her cause of death a mystery. And her wedding gown had been sealed in the Parker family vault, a place even I couldn’t easily access. Hailey tilted her head, enjoying my instantly pale face. “But it’s fine, my wedding dress is much more expensive than your mother’s, wouldn’t you say?” I dug my nails into my palms, barely managing to maintain a calm expression. “Yes,” I said softly. “I hope you get to live many days wearing it.” She paused, then burst into laughter. “Emily Parker, you’re not actually thinking about revenge, are you?” She leaned closer to me. “Don’t forget, now the entire Parker family is mine.” On the wedding day, Parker Manor was decorated with extravagant luxury. The wedding march began, and Hailey, arm in arm with Grandfather, slowly walked towards the officiant. Guests applauded their congratulations, while I stood in a corner, quietly watching it all unfold. When the officiant opened his book and solemnly asked if they were willing, Grandfather slowly looked up. His eyes, however, weren’t their usual gentle self; instead, they held a peculiar coldness. “I do.” When it was time to exchange rings, Mr. Jenkins, the butler, stepped forward, holding a delicate velvet box. Inside lay two rings, each set with a blood-red gemstone. They placed them on each other’s fingers, completing the ceremony. I saw Grandfather slowly exhale a long breath. The next day, the butler frantically sought me out. “Bad news, Mrs. Parker… something’s happened.” “Mr. Parker left on a business trip abroad last night…”

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At the painting competition, I publicly announced my withdrawal and stepped off the stage amid the stunned silence, calmly watching my own student win first place with a work she had copied from me, then kiss my boyfriend in front of everyone and mock me as a woman no one could ever love. They thought this was my defeat. What they did not know was that I had already been reborn. Reborn after the previous life in which she stole everything from me and ultimately caused my death. This time, I am standing below the stage only to let her climb high enough—so I can personally drag her back down. “Eliza! What are you spacing out for?” The studio door burst open as my best friend Chloe rushed in, waving her phone. I snapped my eyes open, taking in the familiar easel and the unfinished thesis project resting on it. I had been reborn. Reborn to the day before Vanessa plagiarized my graduation work and publicly exhibited it. “Quick, look at the school’s online forum! That two-faced snake Vanessa is stirring up trouble again!” My gaze fell on Chloe’s phone screen. The pinned post had an eye-catching title: “To All Fellow Art Lovers: When Your Closest Junior Steals Your Inspiration, Where Do You Go From Here?” In the post, without naming names, she told the story of a hardworking senior whose work was shamelessly copied by a genius junior. Even without explicitly stating who the genius junior was, everyone knew it was me. I was the art prodigy of our year, hailed as a genius since enrollment. Vanessa had even included comparison images in her post. One was her so-called competition entry, and the other was the archive of my thesis project that I had only submitted to the school’s online submission system yesterday. The composition, colors, brushstrokes, and even the innovative “stippling technique” I had only first proposed in my graduation thesis—everything was identical. It wasn’t just similar; it was an exact copy! The comments section below had exploded. “I always thought something was off about that Eliza, acting all high and mighty. Turns out she’s just a plagiarist!” “So much for being an art prodigy. She probably just had some shady deal with the instructors!” “Vanessa is too kind. If it were me, I’d report her and get her expelled!” “Poor Vanessa, sending hugs. People like this are a disgrace to the art world. They should just get out!” The familiar words pierced my heart like poisoned daggers. In my previous life, it was this very post that sent my life spiraling into an endless hell. I was vilified by thousands and investigated by the school. Professor Bennett’s gaze changed from initial admiration to utter disappointment. Meanwhile, Vanessa built her success on my ruin. She won the National Young Artists Gold Medal with my painting, signed with a top gallery, and enjoyed limitless glory. I was branded a plagiarist, and finally jumped from the roof of this very studio. Looking at Vanessa’s innocent face on the phone screen, I slowly clenched my fist. Seeing my expression change, Chloe was on the verge of tears: “Eliza, say something! Let’s go to the professor right now and show her all your drafts and evidence! We can’t let Vanessa bully you like this!” Evidence? In my previous life, I had presented all the evidence. From my initial inspiration notes to every compositional sketch, to detailed technical analysis. But it was useless. Vanessa always managed to produce even earlier evidence. She could even articulate my creative concepts eloquently before I did. “Eliza?” Chloe shook me anxiously. I looked up and gave her a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, Chloe.” This time, I was determined to find out how she did it!

Chloe and I walked towards the school’s art gallery. From a distance, we could see Vanessa standing in front of the painting, surrounded by Professor Bennett and several other faculty members. She was passionately explaining her creative concept. “So, I used the stippling technique here to represent the moment when light and shadow break apart and recombine, symbolizing hope in the midst of despair…” Her words matched my written explanation verbatim. The surrounding professors nodded in approval, their eyes full of admiration. “This girl Vanessa not only has talent but also works hard.” “Indeed, the depth of thought in this painting surpasses many of her peers.” My arrival disrupted the harmonious scene. All eyes turned to me, and whispers broke out. “She has the nerve to show up?” “Look at her expression, not a hint of remorse.” Seeing me, Vanessa immediately stopped her explanation, her face showing surprise and sadness. “Eliza, you’re here.” She walked over, her eyes instantly reddening. “I know you’re talented and really wanted to make a breakthrough with your thesis project, but you can’t just plagiarize! If you had talked to me earlier, I could have helped you.” Her words sounded sincere, portraying herself as a betrayed yet still kind and forgiving victim. Professor Bennett looked at me with disappointment in her eyes. “Eliza, you may be naturally gifted, but that doesn’t mean you can take shortcuts. What’s this about? Have all the praises gone to your head?” “I remember you saying your dream was to hold a solo exhibition. Is this the kind of plagiarized work you want to exhibit?” She glanced at me, her tone full of frustration: “How many talented people have wasted their potential by not putting in the effort later on? Do you want to become another example of wasted talent?” I looked at Vanessa, who was smugly watching me, all traces of her previous pitiful act gone. But I ignored both the professor and Vanessa. In my previous life, I would have been angry, argued, and become hysterical. But now, I wouldn’t foolishly try to prove my innocence again. Chloe still wanted to speak up for me, but I held her back, shaking my head at her. We left the gallery, with Chloe fretting anxiously by my side. I assured her I was fine and sent her on her way. Back in my studio, I began to reflect on the whole incident and formed some suspicions. I locked all the doors and windows of the studio, drew the thickest blackout curtains, and even found a roll of packing tape to seal all the gaps. Then, I set up my easel and began to create. I painted quickly, completing the work in two hours. I didn’t leave the studio, to prevent Vanessa from sneaking in to take photos. Early the next morning, I checked my phone. Vanessa had updated her Snapchat status at 4 AM. It was an identical inspirational sketch, with core elements and techniques completely in my style! The caption read: “Pulled an all-nighter painting, felt like I was going to die, but glad the result is satisfying. Goodnight, world.” Below were rows of likes and comments like “You worked so hard” and “Even geniuses need to put in effort”. I frowned. If no one had broken into the studio, then what could it be? Could there be hidden cameras in the studio?

I bought a professional signal detector online and carefully checked every corner of the studio, even every socket. The result was nothing. But to be safe, I packed up my art supplies and took a cab to a rented study room far from the school. I chose a fully enclosed private room, ensuring there couldn’t possibly be any pre-installed monitoring devices. This time, I painted a still life titled “Broken Plaster Cast”. I deliberately used some unconventional color choices and light-shadow treatments, ideas I had only recently come up with and never mentioned to anyone. After finishing, I didn’t take it with me but locked it in the study room’s storage locker. However, that very night. In an art group chat full of industry bigwigs, Vanessa posted a more refined version of the same themed painting, under the guise of seeking advice. It was exactly “Broken Plaster Cast”. She posted the image even half an hour before I had finished my painting! The bigwigs in the group lavished praise on her, complimenting her bold ideas and mature techniques. A few sharp-eyed ones recognized my signature style and began to whisper. “This style, doesn’t it look a bit like that Eliza from the art school?” “It does look similar, but Vanessa’s version is more refined and the concept more mature. Guess Eliza is copying Vanessa again? She does have a history of it.” “Young people these days, always looking for shortcuts.” I was even more confused and bewildered. How exactly was Vanessa stealing my work? Sitting alone in the empty studio, I reviewed the entire incident. Physical isolation was ineffective, signal blocking was ineffective. This almost ruled out all conventional methods of theft. I recalled the interviews Vanessa gave after winning the gold medal in my previous life. She spoke eloquently, but whenever asked about the details of her creative process and inner journey, her answers always seemed hollow and superficial. Like a poor actor reciting lines that didn’t belong to her. Back then, I just thought she wasn’t good at expressing herself. Now I realize, perhaps she simply didn’t know what to say. Because she only had the result, not the process. A somewhat absurd idea formed in my mind. I messaged Chloe, sharing my thoughts with her, and then began to implement my plan. I sat in front of the easel, but didn’t take out my brushes or set up a canvas. I just closed my eyes and began to conceptualize a painting in my mind. I envisioned a black cat crouching on a windowsill, with a gloomy sky threatening rain behind it, and lightning breaking through the clouds in the distance. The overall tone of the image was somber, full of tension. In my mind, I also added a unique emerald green color to the cat’s eyes. The next day, Chloe burst into my studio again. Her face was full of anger, “Eliza! Look at this, Vanessa is inhuman!” She slammed her phone down on my table. On the screen was Vanessa’s latest social media post, published in the early hours of the morning. It was an exquisitely beautiful oil sketch. It depicted exactly a black cat crouching on a windowsill, with the cat’s eyes shimmering with that unmistakable emerald green I had imagined! Her caption was casual and smug: “Couldn’t sleep, just a little inspiration~ Especially love that green in the cat’s eyes, doesn’t it look like an emerald?” I stared at the painting. All the mist in my mind cleared at this moment. So that’s how it was! Chloe, seeing me actually smile, stomped her foot in frustration. “Eliza, what are you smiling about? She’s copying you! This time she’s copying from inside your head! It’s like witchcraft! What on earth are we going to do?” I shook my head: “No, Chloe.” She’s not just copying the ideas in my head. It’s more direct! I laughed freely: “It’s great that she can do this!” Vanessa, since you love copying so much. This time, I’ll let you copy to your heart’s content!

I immediately called Professor Bennett. When the call connected, her impatient voice came through. “Eliza, have you thought it through? Are you here to admit your mistake, or are you still being stubborn?” “Professor,” I said calmly, “my thesis project is ready.” Professor Bennett paused: “You’ve painted another one?” “Yes.” “I hope to hold a small personal exhibition in the school’s art gallery before the National Young Artists Gold Medal Competition starts the day after tomorrow.” Professor Bennett was silent. She probably thought I had gone mad. At a time when the plagiarism scandal was at its peak, not only was I not laying low, but I was actively stepping into the spotlight. “Are you sure?” she asked. “I’m sure,” my tone was firm, “I hope you and Vanessa will definitely attend.” The next day, my requested personal exhibition was held as scheduled in the school’s art gallery. Students and teachers who came to see the commotion packed the small exhibition hall. Vanessa stood at the front of the crowd, arm in arm with Professor Bennett, her eyes full of disdain for me. Everyone wanted to see what tricks this plagiarist would pull. Under the spotlight of all eyes, I walked onto the stage carrying a painting covered with a black cloth. I placed the painting on the easel, then lifted the black cloth. On the canvas was an exquisitely beautiful work. A low murmur of surprise rippled through the crowd. This painting’s technique was masterful, the concept ingenious, far surpassing previous works. Vanessa’s expression changed slightly the moment she saw the painting. I could see the greed and jealousy flashing in her eyes. I surveyed the audience, then did something that left everyone stunned. I took out a lighter, lit it, then brought the flame close to a corner of the canvas. “Eliza! What are you doing!” Professor Bennett was the first to react, shouting at me sternly. The flame licked the canvas, quickly spreading. A masterpiece that had crystallized blood and sweat turned to ashes before everyone’s eyes. The audience was silent at first, then erupted into thunderous applause. “Holy shit! This is performance art!” “Using destruction to interpret rebirth? This concept is brilliant!” “I knew Eliza was a genius. Her mind works differently from ours!” Most people thought this was a carefully planned performance art piece, an artistic response to the plagiarism accusations. They didn’t understand it, but they were deeply shocked. Only Vanessa turned pale, screaming out: “Are you crazy? Eliza, how dare you? How dare you treat art like this!” She panicked. Because only she knew that destroying my painting was equivalent to destroying hers. The professors and classmates who had just praised me also changed their expressions, saying I was seeking attention and disrespecting art. I dusted off my hands and looked at the pale-faced Vanessa. “Why so agitated?” I curled my lips, “My painting is burned, but yours is still there, right?” “Why don’t you bring out the work you prepared for the competition now, and let everyone have a look?” Vanessa was so stunned by me that she couldn’t say a word, her eyes darting around as she stammered. “My painting… is still undergoing final adjustments, it’s not… not finished.” “Oh?” I feigned surprise, “The competition starts tomorrow, and it’s not finished? That won’t do.” Backed into a corner, Vanessa lashed out in anger: “Eliza! What are you up to? Constantly asking about my work, are you still trying to plagiarize me?!”

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I found a cat’s pregnancy scan in my husband’s car. The cat was named “Luna,” and the owner listed was my husband, Julian Vance. I froze. I’m allergic to cat fur, and we’d never had a cat at home. I called him: “Since when did you get a cat?” He chuckled. “There’s a stray cat pregnant outside the office building. I felt bad for her, so I drove her to the vet. I know you’re allergic, so I’ve been keeping her at the office.” I hung up without a word. The scan report stated that “Luna” was a long-haired Persian cat. But I remembered the cat the company adopted was a short-haired tabby. 1 I drove to the pet clinic listed on the scan report. “My friend asked me to pick up Luna’s health records.” The receptionist pulled up Luna’s file for me. Luna’s Dad: Julian Vance. Luna’s Mom: Melanie Rivers. Last year, out of pure sympathy, I had gone against protocol and hired Melanie as an intern for the logistics department. She came from a humble background and desperately needed a chance. Now, it seemed, her “internship” had long since been “promoted.” My chest ached. I went straight to the office to confront Julian. But when I got to his office, he wasn’t there. Before I resigned to care for our twin girls, I was the company’s Vice President. My office was right next to his. I hadn’t worked in a long time, caring for our daughters. Julian had once said: “This office will always be yours, waiting for you to come back anytime.” But now, I heard a woman’s soft moans coming from my old office. Ignoring Sarah, his assistant, who tried to stop me, I kicked the door open. “Julian, you’re back!” Melanie was sitting on a large bed. The moment she saw me, she shrieked and dove under the covers. I was stunned. This wasn’t an office at all. It was clearly a private, luxurious suite. A huge round bed sat by the window, and there was even a vanity and a wardrobe. “Mr. Vance is still in a meeting, maybe you could…” Sarah mumbled behind me, not daring to look up. I glanced at Melanie, trembling under the covers, and my eyes widened. The duvet was visibly mounded over her belly. So, my husband wasn’t just keeping a pregnant cat. He was keeping a pregnant woman. I strode over, yanked the covers off, and glared at her face: “How far along are you?!” Tears streamed down Melanie’s face, and in seconds, she burst into desperate sobs: “I’m so sorry, Char!” “Charlotte, you’re scaring her!” A furious force shoved me aside, a blur of motion in my vision. By the time I registered what happened, Julian was holding Melanie, gently patting her back: “Don’t be afraid, I’ll protect you.” It was so utterly ironic! Just this morning, before he left, he’d nuzzled my face and told me I was working hard taking care of our daughters, promising to take us to Disneyland in a few days. Now, he was holding another woman, carefully avoiding her swollen belly, comforting her, promising to protect her. A wave of overwhelming despair washed over me. I felt dizzy, reaching back for support, but I knocked over a photo frame instead. In the picture, Julian was kneeling before Melanie, his large hands cradling her pregnant belly, his gaze tender as he looked up at her. I looked at him, my voice ice-cold: “Julian, you got another woman pregnant and let her live in my office!” Melanie was startled again, her face pale as she clutched her stomach. “Julian, I hurt…” “Melanie, what’s wrong! Call an ambulance!” Julian panicked, immediately sweeping her into his arms and yelling at his assistant. He acted as if I wasn’t even there. I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed his arm forcefully: “You’re not going anywhere until you explain this!” Julian yanked his arm free, careful not to hurt Melanie: “Explain what? I’m telling you, Melanie is nine months pregnant! If anything happens to our baby, I’ll never forgive you!” With that, he carried Melanie out, leaving me standing there alone. I gritted my teeth, then started smashing everything in that room. 2 It was dark by the time I got home. Maria, our nanny, had put both my daughters to sleep. I gently stroked their cheeks. The cold sweat and fury began to dissipate, and my heart slowly calmed. These were my twin girls, born after countless ovulation shots and three rounds of IVF. Five years ago, Julian came into the delivery room with me. He’d started by cracking jokes to help me relax, but then he cried more bitterly than I did: “They’re two girls… Will daughters have to give birth someday too? No, Char, we’re not having any more kids. Our daughters won’t have to either…” Back then, I truly believed I had found the most wonderful man in the world. For the next five years, he was consistently loving, our affection as strong as ever. But today, all those illusions of love shattered. My poor daughters, they had no idea their father was about to have another child. Suddenly, I remembered the gold chain on Melanie’ wrist. Wasn’t that the one I’d prepared for my daughters ever since they were born? My heart pounded. I rushed to the study, opened the safe, and saw my jewelry box was gone! My heart sank. I called a friend: “Help me find someone’s address, fast… I need it now!” Half an hour later, I drove to a secluded mountain villa in the suburbs. A familiar face opened the door. It was Maria, the nanny who had been taking care of me and our two daughters since I was pregnant. Because the girls adored her, I paid her a high salary, intending to keep her until they grew up. But she had said her son was getting married and resigned last year. Turns out, Julian had brought her here to care for his next child. “Ms. Hayes…” My face hardened. I pushed past her and walked straight inside. In the room nearest the door, the pregnant American Shorthair cat was stretching. This room was twice the size of Julian’s office, filled with cat supplies—a specially designed cat haven. I continued walking, hearing Julian’s soft murmur: “It’s okay now. Didn’t the doctor say the baby is healthy?” “All the stuff she broke can be bought again… It was just a photo frame, I’ll just have the photo studio make you another one, alright?” Through the crack in the door, I saw Melanie nestled in his arms, her finger tracing circles on his Adam’s apple: “But I’m so scared she’ll come after me again. She won’t tolerate me…” Julian chuckled softly: “What are you afraid of? When have I ever let you suffer?” My fingernails dug deep into my palms. I spoke, my voice cold: “Julian, give me back the fund I set aside for my daughters’ future.” Melanie’s eyes widened. She let out a shriek and buried her face in his chest. Julian’s tenderness instantly turned to annoyance. He shielded her behind him, grabbed a bottle of makeup from the table, and threw it at me: “What are you doing here? Melanie is almost due. Can’t whatever you want to say wait until after she’s given birth?!” In ten years of marriage, he had only lost his temper with me twice. Both times were today, both were for Melanie, and this time, he’d even laid hands on me. The bottle hit my forehead. I felt a dizzying pain. “I’ll say it again. Give me back my daughters’ nest egg, or I’m calling the police.” Julian frowned, seeing the blood trickling down my forehead, but before he could speak, Melanie suddenly knelt on the floor, clutching her pregnant belly, frantically taking off her bracelets and necklaces: “Ms. Hayes, I’ll give it all back! I’m sorry, I was shameless, you can hit me or scold me, but my baby is innocent, please, let my baby go…” Julian tenderly helped her up. “Why are you talking about yourself like that? What if the baby hears you?” Then he looked at me, his eyes cold and devoid of warmth: “Charlotte, since you know everything, I won’t hide it anymore.” “Melanie is carrying a son, my son! Your two daughters are useless, they don’t need any future fund. I’ve given that whole box to Melanie.” “But don’t make a big deal out of it. Melanie isn’t asking for an official title. As long as you don’t go after her and my son, you’ll always be Mrs. Vance.” His son. My daughters. So, that’s how clearly he distinguished between boys and girls. He no longer loved me, and certainly not our daughters. What was the point of staying with him? I took two steps forward, picked up the custom-made diamond bracelet, which was now broken in two, and said coldly. “No need. Since she’s the mother of your son, of course, I’ll step aside.” “Julian, we’re getting a divorce.” Then, under Melanie’s horrified gaze, I dialed 91

“Hello, I’d like to report a crime. Someone intentionally damaged my private property. I have the perpetrators and the evidence right here. Please send officers immediately!” 3 The police arrived at the villa quickly. They collected evidence, investigated, and took statements. The farce ended with Julian agreeing to compensate me for the damages, then leaving with Melanie, as if nothing had happened. By the time I returned home, it was already broad daylight. I saw the empty safe, and Julian’s sneer still echoed in my ears: “Divorce? Could you really bear it?” “You chose to abandon a pre-arranged match with a prominent family, and broke ties with your parents to marry me. Now if you divorce, you’ll be the laughingstock of the Hayes family.” He was right. When we married, Julian was just a struggling artist, while the Hayes family was a titan in the cosmetics industry. For him, I had a huge fallout with my family. Now, if I divorced him, and for such a scandalous reason as infidelity, my family relatives would surely mock me mercilessly. But he seemed to have forgotten, when I chose him back then, I never cared about what others thought. Now, I was still the same me. Only he had changed. While discussing divorce papers with my lawyer, I noticed Melanie had updated her SnapChat. She was wearing two newly bought gold bracelets, smiling brightly. [My baby has nothing to fear, Daddy is our knight, he will protect us.] Below, Julian replied: “From now on, my son and I will protect you. I’ll buy you even more gold.” When I first hired her, her SnapChat had always blocked me. But Julian’s protection had clearly emboldened her, making her audacious enough to flaunt their affection right in front of me. I immediately screenshot it and sent it to my lawyer. The lawyer, in turn, sent me a stock transfer certificate. The contents were truly shocking. The cosmetics company, which had grown large thanks to my resources and patents, had 70% of its shares in Julian’s hands. He had transferred them all to Melanie seven months ago! She was now the company’s largest shareholder! My heart pounded. I quickly clicked on Melanie’ SnapChat, scrolling back through her posts. All her posts from the past year were now public, as if intentionally revealed for me to see. [Julian gave me the company, said it was my ‘engagement gift.’ He’ll run it for me, but I have him, that’s all I need, why would I need a company anyway.] [Luna is pregnant too! Julian was so happy, said it was double good news, he gave all his houses to me, and even said his daughters’ houses could be for Luna’s babies.] [Luna is the happiest little cat in the world, with four little babies in her belly, each getting their own penthouse.] Scene after scene flashed before my eyes. A month ago, Julian had asked for the property deeds, saying he’d found two adjacent villas and wanted to trade our daughters’ four penthouse apartments for them. I wanted to go see them with him, but he made many excuses to put it off. Turns out, he’d given the properties to the four kittens in Luna’s belly. And all the houses under our names, and that company, had become Melanie’s gifts. The fund I’d saved for my daughters had become her jewelry. He had given her everything. My daughters and I were left with nothing. My phone rang. Before the lawyer could speak, I gritted my teeth and said, word by word: “Collect evidence. Sue him for malicious transfer of marital assets.” “Also, revoke all the cosmetics patents I authorized. Don’t leave a single one!” 4 After that, Julian seemed to forget about me. It wasn’t until three days later, as I was simmering chicken soup at home, that Julian suddenly entered, arm around Melanie. Several nannies and bodyguards followed them, one of them carrying a cat carrier. “Luna is almost due, and Melanie can’t stand the smell of blood. So we’re bringing Luna here to deliver.” I looked up at him: “Julian, both my daughters and I are allergic to cat fur. If you let a cat live here, where will our daughters stay?” He personally helped Melanie to sit on the sofa, naturally brought out a bowl of soup and handed it to her, then looked at me with impatience: “They can just find somewhere else to stay, can’t they? Allergic to cats at such a young age, I wonder if it’s some inferior gene they inherited from you.” With the charade finally over, he truly stopped pretending, dropping even the superficial politeness. I pulled out a chair and sat down, speaking coldly: “This is my home. If anyone needs to leave, it certainly isn’t me.” Melanie blinked, then choked, pretending to stand up: “Ms. Hayes is right, I’m the one who should leave…” Julian pressed her back down, his tone hostile towards me: “Don’t waste my time. I told you, if you want to remain Mrs. Vance, you’ll listen to me.” “Melanie is due in a few days, she absolutely cannot be stressed… What are you standing there for? Get her out!” The bodyguards exchanged uneasy glances. But they were all employees I had hired. Now, one look from me, and none dared to move. Looking past them, I watched him play the “good husband,” the “good father.” It only made me laugh even more bitterly: “Julian, you gave her the company and all the properties. You even gave her our daughters’ properties. Where do you expect us to go?” Julian’s face darkened completely. He slammed the soup bowl down. Broth splashed across the table: “Charlotte, you dared to investigate me?!” “I warned you to wait until Melanie had given birth before discussing anything. But you just couldn’t sit still, insisting on making a scene now. Are you trying to anger me, or stress Melanie out?” “Fine, you want a divorce? Then let’s divorce. I want to see how long you, Charlotte, can survive without the Hayes family, and without me!” Julian, you’re mistaken. I want to see how long you and this woman can survive without me, and without my patents! Just as tensions were about to explode, the kindergarten teacher brought our two daughters home. “Mommy, Daddy, why are there so many people here…” A flicker of regret crossed Julian’s eyes. As he turned his head, Melanie suddenly moaned: “Julian… my stomach hurts so much…” “This chicken soup… it tastes off. Quick… take me to the hospital…” Julian immediately spun around, seeing Melanie’s face deathly pale, clutching her stomach and panting in pain. I frowned. Before I could speak, he had already scooped Melanie up and was rushing out. “Charlotte, you dared to poison the soup!” “If anything happens to my son, I swear, I’ll never let you go!” My daughters, terrified, stood by the door, frozen. Julian, in his rage, actually kicked Lily, our eldest daughter, in the leg. “Get out of the way! Just like your mother, both of you are useless!” “Julian! How dare you hurt my daughter!” I lunged forward, but he had already pushed open the door and driven off with the nannies and bodyguards. Lily had bumped into a cabinet. I quickly helped them both up, checking carefully for injuries. “Mommy, why did Daddy kick me? Did I do something wrong?” “No, darling, you didn’t do anything wrong.” I hugged them both tightly, watching the car drive away. After a long moment, I picked up my phone: “Have the patent authorizations been revoked? Do it now. I want Julian to lose everything!”

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I hit the biggest lottery jackpot — $1 billion. The day I was supposed to claim it, my wife was suddenly kidnapped. The kidnapper, full of bravado, started a live stream for the whole world to see. He pointed at the camera and threatened: “Mr. Alex, if you want your wife back, you’ll exchange her for that lottery ticket!” I calmly pulled out our marriage certificate from a drawer, my voice even more intense than the kidnapper’s. “Tell me… how much do you want to finish her off?” On the screen, my wife Sarah was tied up in a run-down factory, her face pale. The comments in the live chat were flying by. “Oh my God, this looks way too real! Doesn’t seem like acting at all!” The live stream quickly went viral. As viewership skyrocketed, Sarah’s parents, Robert and Karen, found out about their daughter’s kidnapping and frantically called me. Meanwhile, I was casually sipping coffee, interacting with the kidnapper. To speed things up and convince him to just end it, I transferred the last of our shared marital funds into the live streaming platform. The next second, the front door suddenly burst open. “Alex, what the hell is going on? My daughter’s been kidnapped, and you’re just sitting here sipping coffee?!” I slowly put down my cup and glared at Robert. “Mr. Robert, I want to save Sarah too, but the kidnapper’s demands are just too extreme. I can’t meet them!” The words had barely left my mouth when Robert rushed over, grabbing my collar. “What do you mean by that? Is my daughter’s life not worth more than a lottery ticket?!” Robert was trembling with desperation, his eyes filled with disappointment. “Mr. Robert, you know I’m broke. There’s no way I’m giving up this lottery ticket. As for Sarah, don’t worry—I’ll definitely throw her a proper funeral once she’s gone!” Before I could even finish, Karen, who was standing nearby, couldn’t hold back anymore. She pointed a finger at me and screamed. “You bastard! Sarah is your wife! How can you just stand there and watch her die?!” I looked at the live stream footage as if nothing was happening. “Right now, $1 billion is definitely more important to me than your daughter’s life.” Just then, in the live stream, Sarah yelled my name at the screen. “Alex, I’m pregnant! If you don’t want two lives lost, hand over that lottery ticket now!” At her words, the comments exploded again. “What?! They’re kidnapping a pregnant woman? That’s absolutely sick!” “Ugh, this poor woman. It’s been so long, and her husband still hasn’t done anything!” “Exactly! Money can be earned back, but if you lose your life, you really lose everything!” … As the live stream comments kept flooding in, the kidnapper grew visibly excited. He held up his phone with one hand, while the other grabbed Sarah’s hair and forced her to the ground. A heart-wrenching scream for help immediately echoed through the video. “Honey, save me!” Sarah struggled to lift her head, her gaze fixed on the screen, tears still glistening in her eyes. The live stream audience was horrified by the scene, frantically pulling out their phones to call the police. Karen, seeing her daughter’s miserable state on screen, stumbled and nearly fainted beside me. “Alex, did you hear that? My daughter is pregnant!” I quirked an eyebrow. “So what if it’s a kid? Once I claim my prize, countless women across the country will be lining up to have my babies!”

After a few more screams, the kidnapper’s eyes were blazing red as he stared at the screen. “Mr. Alex, I’m giving you one hour to decide: money or your wife and child!” Mid-sentence, he suddenly grinned. “Oh, and I should warn you—I’m not a very patient man. Every ten minutes, I’ll chop off one of your wife’s fingers until she bleeds to death.” I sighed softly at my phone screen. “Don’t bother with the fingers. Just go straight for the head. There’s no way I’m giving you that lottery ticket—forget about it.” I turned to Robert and Karen. “I don’t think you two need to worry too much. The police might have already located the kidnapper by now.” Even though the live stream’s IP address showed it was outside the country, the police might still find him. But Robert slammed his hand on the table. “Alex, everything you have now, you owe to our family! What right do you have not to save my daughter?!” He wasn’t wrong. The Roberts weren’t super rich, but they were far better off than me—a guy who came from humble beginnings. Even my current job was thanks to Robert’s connections. I was thinking about how to retort when a large group of police officers burst through the door. Captain Miller, leading the team, immediately focused on me as he entered. “Mr. Alex, our police force can’t determine the kidnapper’s location yet. To prevent any further harm to your wife, I personally recommend you try to calm him down first.” Captain Miller paused mid-sentence, gave me a meaningful look, and then added: “Since the kidnapper is live streaming, our superiors don’t want any bloody scenes to appear on screen. We hope you’ll cooperate!” Before I could even speak, Robert immediately jumped in to agree. “Did you hear that?! Even the police are telling you to hand over the lottery ticket! What are you just standing there for?” I cleared my throat and sneered. “Officer, I’m really sorry, but I am absolutely not giving up that lottery ticket. As for the hostage’s safety, you can only blame the police for being derelict in their duty.” After hearing my words, the police officers looked completely incredulous. Karen, nearby, fainted on the spot. “How can you be so heartless?!” “When I let my daughter marry you, I didn’t ask for a penny in dowry. We even helped you get a new house! Is this how you repay us?!” Robert cradled his wife, grief and anger etched on his face. The police officers around me angrily clenched their fists. “Mr. Alex, we advise you to try and appease the kidnapper.” I scanned the room, unable to suppress a scoff. “You all sound so righteous—it’s easy for you to say. If I lose a wife, I can always remarry. But if I lose this money, I’ll be poor my whole life.” Just as I finished speaking, the doorbell suddenly rang. “Excuse me, is there a Mr. Alex here? I have a package for you.” I opened it to find a bloody finger inside.

Seeing the sight, everyone gasped collectively. “That… that has my daughter’s wedding ring on it!” With Robert’s startled cry, the atmosphere in the room instantly grew tense. At that moment, a gut-wrenching scream came from the live stream. “Ah!” I slowly turned my head to look at my phone screen. In the footage, the kidnapper held an axe high, fresh blood still glistening on it. In the corner, my wife was curled up, her back to the screen, her life hanging by a thread. “Ten minutes already?” I murmured with a smile. “Mr. Alex! Please, you need to agree to his demands immediately!” Captain Miller’s face was grim, directing all his anger at me. I calmly shook my head and spoke softly. “Captain Miller, instead of trying to persuade me, you should focus on rescuing the hostage.” I picked up the severed finger and toyed with it. “Only eight fingers left. You police officers better hurry.” No sooner had I spoken than the kidnapper’s voice echoed through the live stream again. “Mr. Alex, my patience has its limits! If you don’t make a decision soon, next time it won’t be just a finger!” I couldn’t help but curse under my breath. Figures—you can’t trust a kidnapper’s word. He said he’d cut one every ten minutes, and now he’s already gone back on it. But then I reconsidered—maybe it’d be better if he just chopped off her head next time. At least that would stop this swarm of flies buzzing in my ear. “Alex, hurry up and get that lottery ticket! If my daughter dies, I’ll never forgive you!” I sighed softly, looking at him with a feigned apologetic expression. “Mr. Robert, you can only blame your daughter for her bad luck—for getting stuck with a husband like me, who values money above all else.” At these words, the entire room erupted in murmurs. Some of the younger officers were already clenching their fists. If they weren’t in uniform, I’m sure they would have rushed forward to beat me up. Captain Miller angrily pointed at the woman on the screen. “Mr. Alex, even if you refuse to save your wife, the child in her belly is innocent—at least. I suggest you reconsider!” Looking at my wailing wife on the live stream, I couldn’t help but narrow my eyes. A child? I don’t even want my wife—why would I want her child? “Captain Miller, you don’t need to persuade me anymore.” Captain Miller’s face was dark as he glared at me, gritting his teeth. “Mr. Alex, I hope you won’t regret this decision you’re making today!” I struggled to hold back a laugh. “Captain Miller, why would I ever regret it?”

The professional instruments’ indicator lights kept blinking, but they still couldn’t pinpoint the kidnapper’s exact location. The police were stomping their feet in frustration, utterly helpless. The kidnapper, still live streaming, saw I hadn’t responded and unleashed another round of punches and kicks on the woman in the corner. My wife, already losing too much blood, grew even paler. She could pass out at any moment. The number of viewers on the live stream peaked at this moment, the screen full of comments too many to read. “Where’s the hostage’s husband? Why hasn’t he shown up yet?” “Is there really someone who would let someone die for money?” “I think the person above is right. Her husband never intended to give up the lottery ticket—otherwise, he wouldn’t let the kidnapper harm the hostage!” As time ticked by, the kidnapper gradually lost patience. He roared frantically at the screen. “Mr. Alex, I’ll count to three. If you don’t make a decision, believe me—I’ll finish her off right now!” I let out a deep sigh and pulled out my phone in front of everyone. The call was answered instantly, and my voice, broadcast through the live stream, was heard clearly by everyone online. “Mr. Alex, it seems you still can’t bear to lose your wife.” The kidnapper’s tone was exceptionally smug. I bit back a smile. “As long as you hand over the lottery ticket, I guarantee I’ll send your wife back unharmed.” At this point, the onlookers watching on screen all thought I would give up the massive jackpot for my wife. But what I said next completely stunned everyone. “Hey, Kidnapper, I think you’ve misunderstood. I just called to tell you to stop dragging your feet and get on with it—I’m in a hurry to claim my prize.” The kidnapper had never expected me to say something so outrageous in front of tens of millions of people. He froze on the spot. After a long pause, he forcefully swung an iron hammer at my wife’s head, slamming it down hard. There was a sickening “thud,” and the scene fell into a dead silence. No one had imagined that I would call the kidnapper just to provoke him into killing her. “Alex! You… you animal! You killed my daughter! I’ll make you pay!” Robert grabbed a fruit knife from the coffee table and lunged at me. The scene instantly descended into chaos. And I, the orchestrator of it all, remained perfectly composed, sitting on the sofa. “Mr. Robert, I advise you to calm down. The police are all watching!” The first to react was Captain Miller. He quickly blocked me, grappling with Robert, who was holding the knife. Seeing this scene unfold, I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Mr. Robert, the dead cannot be brought back to life. My condolences.” Robert was pinned to the ground by the police, his eyes bloodshot as he roared at me. “Alex, not only did you refuse to save her, but why did you deliberately provoke the kidnapper and cause my daughter’s death?!” “You owe me an explanation today!” I crossed my legs, looking down at him with a smirk. “An explanation? There’s nothing to explain.” “I stand by what I said: you can only blame your daughter for her bad luck!” Perhaps my disregard for life had finally incensed everyone. The younger police officers around me rushed forward from all directions, looking as if they wanted to skin me alive. “I’ve never seen such a cold-blooded and heartless person in my life! You’re ten, even a hundred times worse than a murderer!” “Alex, you disregard life, you disregard the law! Today, even if it costs me my badge, I will bring you to justice!” In an instant, everyone was enraged. Even Captain Miller, who was closest to me, now looked at me with a furious expression. I glanced at the number of live stream viewers, a subtle smile playing on my lips. Just as the handcuffs were about to click around my wrists, I suddenly shouted at the crowd of police officers. “Wait!” “I need to talk to your captain!” Captain Miller slowly walked up to me, looking confused. “Go on, what else do you have to say to defend yourself?” I sighed softly, my tone calm and even. “Captain Miller, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” The next second, the seasoned officer’s eyes widened, staring at me in disbelief. “You… how do you know my name?” I spoke coldly, in a voice only he and I could hear. “If I told you I’m a reborn person, would you believe me?”

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I dialed my wife’s number from the operating room. “Vanessa, I need you to come to the hospital right away.” Her voice on the other end was faint, as if she was holding something back. “Marcus, I really can’t leave right now… My parents came all the way from Wisconsin for the holidays, and the whole family is here…” A sharp pain made cold sweat bead on my forehead, but through the receiver, I clearly heard another man’s voice: “I heard having surgery on Christmas brings a ‘deathly vibe from the hospital’ home, jinxing the family’s good fortune for the coming year.” Vanessa gasped, agreeing: “Honey, Chad is quite spiritual, he might have a point…” “I’ll book you a hotel suite. You can recover there after the surgery. When the holidays are over, you can come back.” No sooner had she spoken than my phone screen lit up with a notification – my black card had just been used for a $28,888 transaction at a luxury hotel. Feasting on my dime, yet locking me out of my own home. It was time to make them understand who the real owner of that card was.

The first thing I did after waking up from surgery was call the hotel’s general manager. A quick conversation, and then I hung up. Less than five minutes later, a refund confirmation landed in my inbox. I was about to get up when the hospital room door gently pushed open. My driver, Gary, walked in, holding a payment slip. “Mr. Davies, why are you up? The doctor said you need bed rest.” Gary’s words brought a sliver of warmth to that cold Christmas Eve. At that moment, I was grateful that when I gave the entire company Christmas break, Gary had volunteered to stay on call. Otherwise, I truly would have spent this night alone in the hospital. I nodded at him. “I’m fine. I can check out.” The streets were exceptionally congested on Christmas Eve, and the drive to the hotel took nearly an hour. In the hotel lobby, the front desk manager immediately greeted me: “Mr. Davies, as you instructed, the private room has been upgraded. Your wife and her family have already arrived, and the dishes have just been served.” I sneered inwardly. My family? My parents had been living in Switzerland for years. My “good wife” wouldn’t think to invite them. The server led me to the private room on the third floor. Laughter drifted from inside. Mr. Jenkins’s voice was the first to emerge: “This fancy hotel’s Christmas dinner is really something! Back in our town, we’d never get anything this good.” “Dad, if you like it, eat more. It’s a holiday family dinner, of course we should eat well.” That was my wife, Vanessa’s, voice. “This meal must cost a fortune, right?” “Not too much, about thirty thousand dollars. It’s a Christmas dinner, it’s worth it.” “Thirty thousand dollars?! In our town, that money would last a family two years!” “It’s fine, just charge it to Marcus’s card.” I pressed the record button on my phone outside the door, continuing to listen. Mr. Jenkins’s voice sounded again, full of pride: “My Vanessa is really something; she’s got him wrapped around her little finger.” “But he’s still a man; always just focused on the company isn’t right. You two have been married three years; it’s time for a child.” “He’s not getting any younger. In a few more years, even if he wanted one, it might be difficult.” I gripped my phone. Mr. Jenkins’s hypocritical facade was clear to me, but I’d always felt there was something off about his relationship with Vanessa. At home, he’d respectfully call me “Mr. Davies,” yet he’d address his “niece” by her first name. A suspicion formed in my mind – were they actually father and daughter? The next second, Vanessa’s words confirmed my guess. “Dad, Marcus has always said he doesn’t want children.” “What man doesn’t want children!” Mr. Jenkins’s voice suddenly rose. “If you hadn’t told me he was rich and owned a company, I wouldn’t have looked twice at him!” “And now, he won’t even have a child. This is going to leave our family without an heir!” A young male voice echoed from the private room, a voice I’d never heard before: “Vanessa, if Marcus doesn’t want kids, I can help!” “I’m strong; I can definitely get Vanessa pregnant with healthy babies. As long as Vanessa’s willing, she can have as many as she wants!” Mr. Jenkins laughed: “Vanessa, Chad was always the one I picked for you. He’s liked you for so many years; I think it’s a great idea.” “Dad, now’s not the time. Not until Marcus settles the company stock transfer.” Just then, footsteps sounded in the hallway as a server approached: “Mr. Davies, why are you standing outside the door? Would you like me to take you in?” The chatter and laughter in the private room instantly ceased. I thanked the server and pushed open the door. Vanessa froze when she saw me. “Honey, what are you doing here?” I scanned the room – Vanessa, Mr. Jenkins, and a burly young man were seated around the lavish Christmas dinner table. That stranger, I presumed, was “Chad.” I pulled out a chair and sat down, looking at Vanessa and speaking coldly: “Christmas Eve, a family dinner. I hadn’t even arrived, and you’ve already started?” “Was the dinner too tempting to wait for me, or did you simply have no intention of inviting me?” A flicker of panic crossed Vanessa’s eyes, quickly replaced by a smile as she sat down beside me: “Honey, what are you talking about? We just arrived too; we were just about to call you.” “You’re my husband. If I’m not spending the holidays with you, who else would I be with?” She gazed at me affectionately, her tone gentle. If I hadn’t known about her scheming behind my back, I might have been fooled by that facade. Seeing my silence, she poured me a cup of hot tea: “By the way, honey, did you just get here? Why didn’t you call me down to meet you?” I scoffed inwardly. Meeting me was a pretense; probing if I’d overheard their conversation was the truth. She visibly relaxed when I said I “just arrived.” But I had no intention of letting it go. I pointed at Chad: “Who is he? Why is there an outsider at our family gathering?” Before Vanessa could answer, Mr. Jenkins hastily spoke: “Marcus, this is Chad. He’s my daughter’s… no, no, he’s just a child of a distant relative of mine.” “He had nowhere to go for the holidays in the city, so Vanessa, being kind, invited him to dinner with us.” 3 I looked at Mr. Jenkins thoughtfully. “Mr. Jenkins, you’ve been living at my house for about half a year now. Who pays your salary in this household?” Mr. Jenkins gave an uneasy laugh: “Marcus, why bring that up now? My salary has always come from you.” “Since you know I pay your salary, you should understand that I am your employer.” “At my company, everyone on my payroll calls me Mr. Davies. I can overlook the titles, but” – I leaned forward – “to say on the phone that my Christmas illness was ‘inauspicious’ and to keep me from coming home – who gave you the right to meddle in my affairs?” Mr. Jenkins’s expression clearly panicked, but he still argued: “Marcus, I was just telling the truth! Back in our town, going to the hospital during Christmas is just bad luck; it brings misfortune…” “In that case,” I leaned back against my chair, “you’re fired. Pack your bags tomorrow and find another job.” Only then did Mr. Jenkins realize the gravity of the situation. He quickly stood up and looked at Vanessa: “Marcus, Mr. Davies! I didn’t do anything wrong! You can’t fire me just because you’re unhappy!” “I’m the employer, and I’m not satisfied. That’s reason enough.” Vanessa, who had been quiet until now, finally couldn’t hold back: “Honey, Dad’s getting old, it’s not easy for him. He was just looking out for me… Please forgive him this once!” She picked a cold piece of lobster from the leftover dishes and placed it on my plate: “I promise, Dad won’t speak out of turn again. If there’s a next time, I won’t defend him!” Seeing my silence, Vanessa gave Mr. Jenkins a look. He immediately lowered his head: “Mr. Davies, I know I was wrong. Please give me another chance. I won’t speak recklessly again.” I “reluctantly” nodded. The three at the table visibly relaxed. They resumed eating, and Vanessa kept piling food onto my plate. I had no appetite, so I used the excuse of going to the restroom and left the hotel. I hadn’t canceled the private room, so naturally, the bill wasn’t paid. I froze Vanessa’s secondary card on my mobile banking app. This Christmas feast? Whoever ate it, pays for it.

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My husband had what I thought was bipolar disorder. Every time he hit me, he’d remorsefully transfer ten thousand dollars to my account. I never fought back. I just quietly accepted the money, covering the bruises with foundation. My best friend called me pathetic, urging me to divorce him. I counted the balance in my account, a cold, calculated smile playing on my lips. “Not yet,” I’d tell her. “I’m not done making a fortune!” Until one day, he punched me in the stomach, and I had a miscarriage. “Cha-ching! One thousand four hundred dollars received.” A mechanical female voice echoed through the empty living room, jarringly loud. I spat out a mouthful of blood, metallic and coppery, like rust. Damian sat across from me on the sofa, hands clasped over his head, despair clawing at him. His hair was a mess, tangled from when he’d been frantically raking his fingers through it during his fit. “I’m so sorry… Cassie, I’m so sorry… I just couldn’t control myself…” His voice was choked with tears, trembling like a leaf caught in a storm. I didn’t say anything. I just quietly picked myself up off the floor. My knee had hit the table earlier, and the pain was excruciating. It was probably already purple. I walked to the mirror. My left cheek was swollen. Five distinct finger marks, angry red, almost purple. Damian hadn’t held back his strength in that slap. He genuinely wanted to kill me, or rather, his “episode-self” wanted to kill me. I picked up the concealer, layering it on, coat after coat. The liquid foundation was cold, a stark contrast against the burning wound. The temperature difference jolted me, pulling me back to a grim reality. Damian’s heavy footsteps sounded behind me. He wrapped his arms around me from behind, burying his face in the crook of my neck. His tears streamed down, scalding my skin through my shirt, making me flinch. “Cassie, hit me back, yell at me… I’m a monster…” “It’s okay.” I looked at my reflection in the mirror, my lips curving into a perfectly composed, forgiving—almost saintly—smile. “I know you’re sick. I don’t blame you.” Damian cried harder, like a child who had done something terribly wrong. He pulled out his phone again. “Cha-ching! One thousand four hundred dollars received.” With the previous one, that made twenty thousand. One slap, twenty thousand dollars. Pretty good deal. My monthly salary was only two thousand, and I had to endure my boss’s verbal assaults and demanding clients. Here, taking a beating for a few minutes of pain could earn me ten months of wages. No matter how I crunched the numbers, it was a profitable trade. Damian was born with a silver spoon, his family owned a chain of factories. Money was just a number to him. To me, it was survival.

Damian fell asleep. Assaulting someone was physically draining, especially with his kind of hysterical rage. I covered him with the blanket, looking at his sleeping face, which still held a hint of gloom. When he wasn’t having an episode, Damian was actually quite handsome. High cheekbones, a straight nose, and eyes that held a deceptive allure, hinting at profound affection. Who would have thought that beneath that attractive exterior lurked a beast? I closed the bedroom door, walked to the balcony, and lit a cigarette. I wasn’t much of a smoker; I only lit one when the pain kept me from sleeping. My phone screen lit up. It was a SnapChat from Chloe, my best friend. “Still alive?” I took a screenshot of my balance and sent it to her. Silence for a moment, then a long voice message came through. “Cassie, are you out of your mind? Do you have some kind of masochistic complex? Twenty thousand dollars is all it takes to buy you off? Don’t you know domestic abuse never stops once it starts? What if he kills you one day? Are you going to take those hundreds of thousands to spend in the afterlife?” Chloe’s scolding was harsh, but I knew she meant well. She was the only one who knew Damian hit me. I blew out a smoke ring, watching the smoke dissipate into the night. I typed back: “Almost.” “Almost what?” “The pig is getting fat.” Chloe sent a string of ellipses, probably thinking I was beyond saving. Of course, I wasn’t crazy. I was perfectly lucid. More lucid than anyone. I touched my stomach. It was flat, soft, with no sign of life. But I needed it to have one. Damian’s bipolar disorder was getting worse. It started with throwing things, then pushing, and now it was full-on fists. The frequency also increased from once a month to once a week. I knew the breaking point was coming. Once we crossed that line, I might actually die. But I couldn’t leave yet. Damian, though remorseful, wasn’t remorseful enough. His guilt levels hadn’t reached the sum I desired. I wanted more than just twenty or thirty thousand in pocket money. I wanted his entire fortune. Or perhaps, his life.

The preparations were almost complete. The blood pack I’d ordered online was film-grade special effects, disturbingly realistic, even carrying a sickly sweet, metallic scent. As for the “fetal model.” I’d acquired it through some discreet channels. It was tiny, palm-sized, an unformed mass that sent shivers down my spine. I hid it in the bottom freezer drawer, wrapped in three layers of black plastic bags. Every time I opened the fridge for milk, I felt that thing silently watching me, radiating an unnatural cold. It was insane, I knew. But to hunt a beast, the hunter must be even crazier. This Friday was Damian’s birthday. As was customary, he would have some wine. Alcohol was a lethal combination with bipolar medication, especially when mixed. But I still bought him the best red wine, a Romanée-Conti, which cost me half of what I’d saved from a year of enduring his beatings. An investment, after all, always came with a cost. At seven in the evening, Damian returned. He seemed in a good mood, carrying an Hermès bag. “Happy Birthday, darling.” I blinked, surprised. “But it’s your birthday.” Damian smiled, walking over to kiss my forehead. “I know, but I wanted to give you a gift. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.” For a moment, I almost wavered. If you ignored those violent nights, Damian truly was a perfect husband. Wealthy, romantic, gentle. Too bad he was a lunatic. I unwrapped the gift; it was a limited-edition Birkin bag. “Do you like it?” he looked at me expectantly. “I love it,” I said, smiling and nodding. “Let’s eat. I made your favorite roasted lamb with rosemary.” At the dining table, candlelight flickered. Damian drank one glass, then two, then three. His eyes started to glaze over, his cheeks flushed, and his voice grew louder. I knew the medication was taking effect. Not the alcohol, but my special “ingredient” I’d added to the wine. It was a potent neuro-stimulant designed to amplify emotions and trigger aggressive outbursts. Damian had been taking the lithium prescribed by his doctor, but I’d swapped out his meds. I’d replaced them with identical-looking vitamin supplements. The real heavy-hitters were all in the wine. “Cassie…” Damian suddenly slammed his wine glass onto the table. Red wine splashed onto the white tablecloth, exploding into a blood-red stain. “Do you look down on me?” His eyes had changed. That familiar, violent, murderous glint was back. The show was about to begin.

I feigned panic, shrinking back. “Damian, what’s wrong? Why would I look down on you?” “You do look down on me! You think I’m crazy! You think I live off my family’s money!” Damian abruptly stood up, knocking over his chair. He rounded the table, stepping closer to me with each stride. Instead of retreating, I moved forward, clutching my stomach tightly. This action provoked him immensely. “What’s in your stomach? Huh? Is it a bastard?” That was a step I hadn’t anticipated. His delusions were worse than I’d imagined. But it was precisely what I wanted. “Damian! Are you insane? That’s your child! I’m three months pregnant!” I shrieked, my voice raw with terror. “My child? Hahahaha! I can’t even have children! I’m sick! I’m a lunatic! How could a lunatic have a child?!” Damian roared, like a rabid beast. He lunged, grabbing my hair and slamming my head against the wall. Thud! It hurt. But I held it in. I collapsed to the floor, curling into a ball. “Don’t hit me… please… don’t hurt the baby…” I cried out, my voice growing weaker. But this didn’t awaken his conscience; instead, it acted as a catalyst, driving him further into madness. “Die! All of you, just die!” Damian raised his foot and brutally kicked my stomach. Once. Twice. I felt the phantom snap of a rib. But I had to wait for the most vicious blow. Now! I violently crushed the blood pack hidden in my clothes. Warm, viscous liquid gushed out, soaking my dress and streaming down my thighs, pooling on the floor. Bright red blood spread across the white tiles, a horrifying sight. I let out one last scream, then pushed the already prepared “fetal model” from beneath my dress. It lay in the pool of blood, a small, purplish-black mass, grotesque and terrifying. The world went silent. Damian stopped moving. He gasped for breath, his eyes fixated on the puddle of blood on the floor and the mass of flesh within it. His pupils constricted violently, and he froze, as if struck by lightning. I “fainted.” But in the instant before I closed my eyes, I saw the look of utter breakdown on Damian’s face. It was terror. Not because he had hit me, but because—he had killed.

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My girlfriend of ten years, Evelyn, was everyone’s idea of perfect. Beautiful, capable, successful – her only flaw? She loved tearing me down. If I got second place instead of first, she’d tell me I wasn’t “smart enough.” When I finally earned some money from my writing, she’d dismiss my work as “worthless garbage.” Later, at the suit shop, when Evelyn criticized my posture, saying I didn’t look like a groom in the suit, I finally snapped. For the first time, I yelled at her: “If you think I’m not good enough, then don’t marry me!” At the suit shop, when I walked out of the fitting room, even strangers nearby couldn’t help but steal glances. The sales associate smiled. “You have a great build. This suit looks really sharp on you.” “Go show your fiancée! She’ll definitely love it.” I forced a smile. “Not necessarily. Her standards are pretty sky-high.” After all, for over ten years, Evelyn had always had high expectations for me, never once praising me. But today, looking at myself in the mirror—broad shoulders, long legs, a lean build—this dark suit suited me perfectly. I thought, Evelyn should be pleased, right? Would she praise me? Would she think I looked handsome? Would she gaze at me with admiration, like the other fiancées in the store looked at their partners? With that hopeful expectation, I nervously reached for Evelyn’s wrist. The next moment, however, my hopes were mercilessly crushed. Evelyn turned, scanning me up and down. Her first words were: “Leo, your shoulders are too slouched.” My smile froze on my face. Even the sales associate looked a bit flustered. “Your back isn’t straight, your posture is terrible, your presence is timid. You look completely uninspired in that.” Evelyn sighed. “Leo, in that suit, you really don’t look like a groom at all.” Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was just enough for everyone in the store to hear. All sorts of eyes landed on me: pitying, mocking, or just plain entertained. In that moment, I felt like nothing more than an item being scrutinized by Evelyn, not a person. My eyes burned. My chest tightened, making it hard to breathe. I’d hit the gym every day and done posture exercises, just like Evelyn wanted, all to look more distinguished at the wedding. Why did she still have to say such things to me? Maybe days of accumulated stress had left me emotionally fragile, or maybe the feeling of dashed hopes was just unbearable. Either way, after ten years, I couldn’t take it anymore. I ripped off my tie. For the first time, I yelled at her: “Evelyn, if you think I’m not good enough, then don’t marry me!” “Yes, I don’t look like a groom, so this wedding? It’s off!” As Evelyn stared, stunned, I took a deep breath and finally said the words that had echoed in my mind countless times: “Evelyn, let’s break up.”

My emotions still hadn’t calmed down by the time my friend, Alex, came to pick me up. After I posted the news of the canceled wedding on social media, everyone started asking what happened. Most people said things like: “Leo, are you and Evelyn just having a misunderstanding?” “She’s such a great woman; you’ll never find anyone like her again.” Even my mom sided with Evelyn. “Evelyn told me about what happened. It’s just a small thing, no need to dwell on it.” And Evelyn herself just texted me three words: “Stop messing around.” I gripped my phone, a wave of helplessness spreading through me. No one understood. After all, in everyone’s eyes, Evelyn was the perfect girlfriend. Beautiful, capable, earned good money, and had been with me for ten years without ever cheating. If she had any fault, it was that she loved putting me down. We grew up together. She was the “golden child,” excelling at everything, always better than me. But fate is fair. While it gave her talent, it also gave her a difficult family background. Her mom passed away young, and her dad was a workaholic who barely paid attention to her, only giving her a second glance when she won an award. And her dad was traditional and old-fashioned, always saying it was “a shame she was a girl.” Because of this, Evelyn was exceptionally driven. While the other neighborhood kids were still playing in the dirt, Evelyn was already participating in math competitions and winning awards. Her difficult upbringing shaped Evelyn into someone strong-willed and demanding. But only with me did she reveal her critical side. If I got second place instead of first, she’d tap my head and tell me I “wasn’t smart enough,” pointing at my mistakes and scolding me, “How could you get something so simple wrong?” If I only won a bronze medal in a competition, she, who always won gold, would be deeply disappointed, coldly criticizing me and calling me a “blockhead.” My mom’s favorite saying was, “Look at Evelyn, she’s so brilliant. She always gets first place and wins awards left and right.” You could say I grew up in Evelyn’s shadow. I hated how she always made me feel worthless, and I hated my mom constantly comparing me to her. Yet, in our early romantic years, everyone called Evelyn and me a classic “opposites attract” couple. They said the way Evelyn treated me was her way of showing affection. Even when Evelyn confessed her feelings, she said, “Leo, if I didn’t like you, would I be so hard on you?” It was the first time she’d ever spoken to me so gently. Her young face softened, and her eyes sparkled with a smile. The cheers and teasing around us were constant, and I was too caught up to notice the little knot of discomfort in my stomach. And just like that, I kind of stumbled into a relationship with Evelyn. That “stumble” lasted ten years.

Alex was my best friend from college and the only one who supported my breakup. Once in college, Evelyn asked me to study with her at the library. Getting up at 7 AM on a weekend was no easy feat. Even though I rushed as fast as I could, I was still two minutes late. Evelyn stood there, arms crossed, a frown on her face. “Leo, why do you have no sense of time at all?” “Are you going to be late meeting clients when you start working? What if it’s a multi-million dollar deal?” My first instinct was to apologize, but Alex pulled me behind him. “Getting up early on a weekend to study with you is against human nature, Evelyn. Leo’s already doing great just showing up.” “And he was only two minutes late. Do you really need to make such a big deal out of it?” From then on, Evelyn and Alex’s relationship went downhill. Alex loved praising me, offering a kind of validation I’d never received in over twenty years of my life. That’s why I loved spending time with him. Evelyn just scoffed. “He praises you only to make you arrogant, so you can’t see your flaws.” “Humility leads to self-reflection. Telling you your shortcomings directly, *that’s* what’s really good for you!” Talking about Alex always made Evelyn frown. It was her sign of irritation. Every time she made that face, I knew I was in for a lecture. I wanted to tell her Alex wasn’t like that. But an unbidden fear spread through me, freezing me in place. I was afraid of Evelyn’s anger, afraid of her criticism. When Alex heard about it, he just clapped me hard on the shoulder. “Leo, someone used to being put down finds it really hard to break free.” “Just take your time.” So today, when he heard I’d finally decided to break up with Evelyn, Alex was especially happy. He threw an arm around my shoulders, grinning. “Congrats, Leo, free from misery!” Alex took me to his place and let me stay in his guest room for a while. He led me into the room. “Leo, do you like the room? I decorated it just for you!” Looking at all sorts of sneakers and basketball-themed pillows, I felt a little dazed. How long had it been since I’d seen things like this, ever since I moved in with Evelyn? Evelyn was a minimalist. When it came to my sneaker collection, she’d just scoff, mocking, “Leo, your taste is so childish and ridiculous.” Thinking about it, my eyes started to burn again, and I couldn’t speak for a long time. If Evelyn was an insidious nightmare in my life, then Alex was probably heaven’s way of making it up to me.

I went to our shared apartment to pack up my things. I didn’t expect Evelyn to already be back. She sat on the couch, lazily lifting her eyelids. “Had you thrown your tantrum, and were you back?” I tried my best to keep my voice from trembling. “I’m not throwing a tantrum, Evelyn. I was serious about breaking up. I’m here to pack my things.” Unexpectedly, Evelyn didn’t say a word, just watched me with a smirk. I swallowed down the discomfort churning in my gut and started packing. I didn’t have many things, really. Only a few items truly belonged to me. Most of it, Evelyn bought for me after I moved in. When we first started living together, she saw my mouthwash cup and towel with cartoon characters on them and frowned. “Leo, your stuff is so childish and ugly.” The next day, she replaced everything. I tried to reason with her, but she said dismissively, “Your things were tacky and not sophisticated enough, so I changed them.” That was the first time I wanted to break up. But my mom convinced me, “If she likes you, just let her do what she wants. You’ve been together for so many years; you can’t break up over something so small.” That time, I compromised. It took a long time for me to realize that it wasn’t a small thing at all. Anything that makes you uncomfortable shouldn’t be dismissed as “small.” The only part of that apartment I felt any attachment to was my writing nook. Just a desk, a lamp, and a computer, yet it was where countless stories were born. I’d loved writing since I was a kid, but Evelyn always called it “a waste of time,” so I put that hobby on hold for a while. It wasn’t until college, when I had more time, that I started writing again. Evelyn was my first reader. I was so excited, hoping she’d praise my work, but after reading it, she just coldly said, “What you write is total nonsense, utterly worthless. Leo, you have no talent for writing. Give up.” But I guess I truly loved writing. For the first time, I didn’t listen to her. I kept writing, and I actually made a name for myself. When I got my first royalty check, I proudly showed off to Evelyn. “I actually got paid for my writing! A full three hundred bucks!” I wanted to prove to her that people *did* read my stuff, that I wasn’t as bad as she said. But she scanned it quickly, then immediately declared, “Worthless garbage.” She looked down on me, her eyes barely hiding her scorn. “There are just a lot of kind people out there. They probably tipped you to encourage a newbie.” “You actually think you’re a good writer?” Her every word was a blade, bursting the bubble of hope in my heart, leaving behind a festering, oozing wound. After that, no matter how much money I made from writing, I never told Evelyn again. I took a deep breath, about to close my laptop, when I noticed it was already on. I opened the screen, and my drafts on the desktop were all gone! That was hundreds of pages of drafts. Every word had been carefully chosen; the effort and passion poured into them were undeniable. I checked the trash bin, then looked through Word’s revision history. Nothing. Nothing. They were all gone! Only one person would do something like that. Evelyn’s voice suddenly came from behind me. She leaned against the doorframe, her gaze dark and knowing: “I deleted them for you. See, this useless stuff has just made you arrogant. You didn’t actually think that with this worthless trash, you could just leave me and live on your own, did you?”

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