My husband, Julian Thorne, was an artist. I took a portrait he had painted of me to a studio for restoration. A staff member pointed to a patch of chipped paint. “There appears to be another painting beneath.” After special processing, a hidden nude was revealed. The room gasped in amazement. Even as an amateur, I could feel the intense passion burning from the canvas. It was just a shame the woman in the artwork wasn’t me. With trembling fingers, I took a photo and sent it to Julian. “Who is she?” “Just come home. I’ll explain everything when you get here.” I walked into our bedroom in a daze and sank onto the edge of the bed. The pale outline on the wall, where his painting once hung, was a stark accusation. For five years, a nude of another woman had hung in our bedroom. And Julian had done it on purpose? The front door opened, followed by hurried footsteps. I turned to Julian. He looked flustered. “Alexa, I should have told you sooner. Many art students reuse canvases this way.” “This was just an old practice piece. It was thoughtless. I’m sorry.” So, art students typically paint over their fiancée’s portrait with another woman’s nude? Seeing I was still upset, he knelt before me, cupped my face, and gently kissed my forehead. “Don’t overthink this. What we have right now is the best arrangement.” Looking into his earnest eyes, I didn’t want to jeopardize our relationship over baseless suspicions. So, I said no more. But the next day, a gnawing unease still lingered. Our marriage was always one of convenience. I knew only that he had studied art at the academy. After taking over Thorne Corporation, he’d given up painting. He was loving after our marriage, and I never questioned anything more. But this painting stirred too many unsettling thoughts. I couldn’t shake the feeling of an undeniable, tangled connection between them. Instead of guessing, I needed answers. I sent the picture of the nude model I’d taken yesterday to a friend from the art academy. “She used to be a model at our school.” I breathed a small sigh of relief. Then, he added, his voice dropping. “Since you asked, I’ll just say it. “She was also your husband’s girlfriend back then.” My mind went completely blank! Julian had hung his ex-girlfriend’s portrait in our bedroom for five whole years! I couldn’t make out what else he was saying. Mechanically, I hung up the phone. Then, with trembling hands, I messaged Julian: “Something’s come up. Come home.” As soon as I arrived home, Mrs. Jenkins, the housekeeper, handed me a package. “It had Mr. Thorne’s phone number on it, so I signed for it. “But the name on it read, ‘Julian’s Seraphina.’” Julian’s Seraphina? Julian loves Seraphina Blake? My scalp tingled with dread! They were still together?! I held my breath, slowly opening this Pandora’s Box. What I found inside sent a shiver of disgust down my spine. It was a set of truly provocative, sexy lingerie! I thought of Julian’s perfectly composed demeanor, his image as the ideal gentleman. Anger, humiliation, surged through my chest!

I searched online for a private investigator, frantic. I had to know what he’d done behind my back. “Julian Thorne?” the voice on the other end chuckled. “Too hot to handle! “And your family, the Vances? Also way too hot to handle. I’ll give you an address. Consider it…an apology gift.” Even he knew? I desperately wanted to throw that lingerie in Julian’s face and confront him! But reason told me he’d have a hundred excuses. I decided to go to that address and see for myself first. I had just disposed of the lingerie. Julian appeared in the doorway. “Alexa, what’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?” I turned my back to him, pouring tea, so he wouldn’t see the fury on my face. “Nothing. It’s handled.” He let out a sigh of relief, then asked, “Mrs. Jenkins mentioned a strange package?” My grip on the teacup tightened. “Seraphina? Never heard of them. Must’ve been a mistake, so I just tossed it. Should I try to retrieve it?” He managed a weak smile. “No, that’s alright.” That night, he held me from behind. His hand stroked my skin, his breathing turning urgent. But I kept staring at the pale outline on the wall. Images flashed- the model, the nudes, the lingerie… “I’m tired.” Julian stilled. Then his touch withdrew, and he turned his back to me. A long silence stretched before he spoke again. “I have a business trip tomorrow. A week. Take care of yourself.” “Okay.” The next day, I timed it perfectly and drove to the address the detective had given me. At the alley entrance, I asked a lady for directions. She frowned. “Oh, those two! “They just mess around all day, running an art shop that never seems to get any business, but they don’t care. “Always all over each other, hugging and kissing, then disappearing into the back. Who knows what they’re up to. It’s scandalous!” My feet felt like they were cast in lead as I trudged deeper into the alley. From a distance, I saw Julian sitting under a tree, fiddling with his paintbrushes. His hair was loose, swaying in front of his eyes, and the top two buttons of his oversized shirt were undone. He was a completely different person from the Julian I knew. I realized, this was Julian Blake, the artist! Just as I was lost in thought, a woman emerged from the shop.

I recognized her instantly: Seraphina Blake, the nude model from the painting. Her hair was casually tied back, wearing the same white shirt, her collarbone subtly peeking out. She leaned in, whispering something into Julian’s ear. The flush on her cheeks was visible even from where I stood. Julian pulled her into his arms, looking as excited as a a stray dog. Seraphina’s collar slipped, revealing a familiar strip of lace. Then, Julian swept her into his arms and carried her into the shop. I felt the blood drain from my feet, slowly ebbing away. I don’t know how long I stood there, frozen. When I came to, I was already inside the shop. It was all Seraphina; he had filled the entire gallery with her. In the oil paintings, she was clearly a woman deeply loved. Compared to my formal, almost stiff portrait, mine looked pathetic and ridiculous. I continued further in. It was a shop with living quarters in the back. In the living room, their Polaroid photos were scattered everywhere, each with a handwritten caption. “She called him after a car accident, a fractured bone, but a rare orchid was about to bloom, and if he missed it, he’d have to wait another year.” “On their wedding anniversary, he said he hated ‘performing love,’ and he came here to be with me instead.” Before I could even swallow my tears, clear, intimate sounds drifted from the bedroom. So this was his “best arrangement”! A CEO bound by duty and convention, but also an uninhibited, wild artist. Weak-kneed, I leaned against the wall, the sounds hammering at my heart, escalating from pain to fury, then to bitter resentment. I wanted to burst through that door, rip at her hair hysterically, and demand to know why? But then what? In a lull of their passion, I heard voices. “Alexa Vance found your portrait.” “Oh? She’ll hate me.” “I made up an excuse. She’ll probably believe it. “Even if she doesn’t, she’ll just look away. That’s the nature of our…transaction.” “Giving her that painting was an impulse.” “But when she found it…I felt a thrill of revenge.” He was wrong. I had loved him. I had cared. My sincerity had been a target for his betrayal.I would not look away. Though, at this very moment, that sincerity had abruptly died. Seraphina seemed to be sobbing. “If it weren’t for me, would you have been able to accept her? You wouldn’t have been so miserable then.” “She’s a good woman, but I needed an escape for my soul.” I gave a bitter laugh in my heart. What a pair of star-crossed lovers. Julian, you greedy coward! You didn’t dare defy your father, but you had the gall to take it out on me? I left the alley and drove to his father’s estate. “Your son is cheating, and you forced him into it.” He stopped pruning a branch, his expression showing no surprise. “Oh, I wouldn’t call it ‘cheating’ exactly. This was his condition for marrying you and taking over the corporation. “That woman hiding in that little shop won’t affect you. “Julian needs an outlet when he’s under pressure, and she can take some of the burden off you. “This is a critical period for the corporation’s growth. Don’t let him get distracted, don’t bother him with these things. “Remember, our two families rise and fall together. “As the adopted daughter of the Vance family, your most important duty is to be grateful and repay that kindness. “Just pretend these little romantic dramas don’t exist. “I won’t tell Julian you were here today, either.” Just because I’m the adopted daughter of the Vance family, you think you can deceive and manipulate me like an idiot?! I clenched my fists and nodded. “I understand, Dad.”

After leaving, I immediately called my brother, Cameron. “Can you come home?” “What, is the old man finally calling me back to inherit the family fortune? “Tell him I’m making more money than him now, I’m not coming back. “But your voice… what’s wrong? Were you just crying?” Cameron had been very rebellious as a teenager, running off abroad and refusing to return. He didn’t even show up for my wedding. Dad, furious, cut off all contact with him. Outside, rumors even circulated that he was dead. “I’ve been wronged.” “I’ll be right back. Whatever you need, I’ll help you.” Seven days later, Julian returned, almost giddy with excitement. “I want to introduce you to someone. But promise me you won’t get angry, okay?” As soon as he finished speaking, Seraphina Blake casually walked through the door, a subtle smirk playing on her lips. How dare they?! Before I could react, Julian pulled me down onto the sofa, kneeling in front of me. “I know because of that painting, you might see her as a rival. “But I brought her back solely to secure investment from Maplewood Venture Capital. “Her brother knows Maplewood’s controlling stakeholder.” All of this was my plan. That mysterious controlling stakeholder was my brother. I just never expected him to bring Seraphina directly to me! “You’ve been in contact with her this whole time?” Julian clearly had his story ready. “I ran into her by chance during my business trip. “Maplewood is holding a large art exhibition here and will be looking for excellent art investment companies to inject capital into. “She told me all about it.” Seraphina seized the opportunity to walk over to me. “Alexa, for art students, these things are nothing out of the ordinary. “Me standing naked in front of him was no different to him than those plaster statues. “Please don’t misunderstand us because of that painting and jeopardize Julian’s career.” No different to him than those plaster statues. The memory from the alley flashed back. Julian composed himself and squeezed my hand. “There’s one more thing,” he said, his tone deliberate. “I need Seraphina to stay here. Too many eyes are on this project. I have to ensure perfection.” His gaze held its usual, practiced sincerity. Julian, I thought, you must be so tired from all this acting. “Of course,” I heard myself say. “The bigger picture is more important.” A swift, furtive glance passed between them. I swallowed the bitterness and told myself to treat it as exposure therapy. In the days that followed, I felt like a ghost in my own home. The brief eye contact across the dinner table, the accidental brush of shoulders on the stairwell… I saw everything. It must be so hard for you to hold back, Julian. I’ll make sure you both get exactly what you deserve.

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Seven years into our marriage, the media dug up my singer husband Jax’s private Instagram account. It was a digital shrine to his love life, filled with daily updates. “My wife looked so cute in her pink sweater today!” “Wrote her a new song. She loves it!” “Gave her a pink diamond ring. Her smile lights up my world. My girl gets everything she desires!” “Second day post-concert…missing her already.” Tabloids had a field day: “Notoriously Arrogant Singer Is a Total Simp in Private!” My best friend Chloe forwarded the articles, gushing, “You’re so lucky! He’s obsessed with you!” A bitter laugh escaped me. I don’t own a single pink sweater. And that breathtaking pink diamond? Never seen it. I hated pink. I did wear pink once. A long time ago. It was during my pursuit of Jax. Everyone said he liked innocent, girly types. So I bought a pink dress for our Christmas meet-up, burying my own dislike for the color. That night, a heavy snow fell. I waited outside his studio, freezing. Half an hour late, Jax finally showed up. He took one look at me and smirked. “Rowan, you look like a pink pig.” Laughter erupted around him. I fled, the heat of humiliation searing through the winter chill. After that, I never wore pink again. My phone buzzed with Chloe’s awkward attempt to smooth things over. “Don’t overthink it, Rowan.” “Maybe he says he dislikes it, but secretly loves it.” “We all know what kind of guy Jax is.” She was right. In college, Jax was infamous for his sharp tongue and icy glare. My roommate put it best. “He’s gorgeous, but it’s a shame he ever opens his mouth.” He tore into every girl who liked him. Except me. He mocked my clothes, my food, my mere existence beside him. Yet, at a class reunion, when I sat hidden in a corner, it was him who coolly beckoned me over. “Hey, come sit here.” Later, he became a superstar. At his first sold-out concert, he sang an entire love song, his gaze fixed squarely in my direction. Then the camera found him. His face, impossibly handsome and utterly serious, filled the screen. “Everyone, meet the leading lady of my life.” Lights flashed. The crowd screamed. And through it all, he was smiling at me. Backstage, Jax’s manager tore into him. “Are you trying to throw away your career? Your fans?” Leaning against the wall, Jax just smiled. “You don’t get it. My girlfriend’s the dramatic type. If I didn’t make a big show of it, she’d have made a scene later.” The fallout was real. His career stalled for years. It only revived last year, when a new song swept the awards. However, the person who presented him with the award was a friend who used to be far less successful than him. That guy had dumped his girlfriend of ten years for his career, then shot to stardom. So, a reporter asked Jax if he regretted his public declaration back then. “No regrets.” Jax showed off the necklace on his collarbone to the camera. It was a birthday gift I’d bought him after delivering takeout for five months straight. He once said that necklace was more precious than any trophy. But in his latest faceless selfie from his private account. The necklace on his neck had been replaced with a pink Hello Kitty cartoon pendant. He used to say that thing was too childish. Yet now. He practically gloated. “Got matching necklaces with my wife!”

I sat in the living room all night. Scrolling through his private Ins posts, over and over again. He said her desserts were delicious. Meanwhile, the cake I’d spent all morning baking for him, he just glanced at it before tossing it into the trash right in front of me. He praised her as lively, outgoing, and good at socializing. But if I so much as talked to someone for a few minutes, he’d sneer, “Gotta make everything about you, huh?” He meticulously prepared gifts for her, for their first day, first week, first month together. A man known for his impatience would spend an entire day at a crafting table. “Just thinking about my wife’s face when she gets the gift makes me happy! Her eyes all sparkly and cute, she’s adorable!” Today was my thirtieth birthday. Jax hadn’t even come home. I waited for him until midnight, then finally couldn’t resist calling him. It took a long time for him to answer. The music was blasting on his end, loud enough to burst eardrums, and the laughter of men and women was a chaotic mix. “I told you I’m busy, can you please stop bothering me?!” “Huh? It’s your birthday today?” “…I forgot.” I silently opened his private account. Ten minutes ago, he’d posted. “Don’t want to go home.” Jax finally came home when it was almost dawn. The sound of the door opening. A mix of alcohol and heavy perfume hit me. Then I saw him, leaning against the doorframe. He was typing on his phone. Noticing the living room light, he glanced at me, then lowered his head back to his screen. “Not asleep yet?” “No.” Jax replied with an indifferent “Oh,” still focused on his phone. The person on the other end must have said something funny, as he instinctively flashed a helpless smile. I just sat on the couch, watching him quietly. After about three to five minutes, Jax finally realized I hadn’t left. He put away his phone, rubbed his nose, and frowned, looking up at me. “Still not going to bed?” “I…” “Perfect.” He cut me off, sat down next to me, and naturally ordered, “Go make me some tea.” To protect Jax’s voice, I’d specifically learned to make many different kinds of herbal tea. Jax always said they tasted awful, but he’d still drink them, frowning all the while. But not this time. I brought him the tea, he took a sip, then immediately poured the entire cup into a potted plant. “Ugh, your cooking is really getting worse.” The burn blister on my finger throbbed with a searing pain. I kept my head down, not saying a word. Then I remembered what he’d written on his private account. “My wife burned dinner today, but I still ate it all up!” Suddenly, I found it all incredibly tedious. “I’m going back to my room.” “Hey!” Jax called out from behind me. I turned around. A palm-sized box hit my chest. I instinctively gasped. He frowned, a little annoyed, then turned his head away. “Happy Birthday.” Inside the box was the same cartoon pendant he wore. A goofy-looking plush bear, grinning widely.

“See? I told you that person on his private account was you.” Chloe came to see me the next day. She saw the pendant and confidently tried to reassure me. “If Jax really didn’t like you, why would he stay with you for so many years? Look at his staff, there isn’t a single woman among them.” I couldn’t argue. But a woman’s intuition always told me something was off. Like that childish and exaggerated cartoon pendant hanging on a silk pajama shirt. It just didn’t fit, no matter how I looked at it. Chloe sighed, seeing my expression. “How about this? You call him right now? No, that’s not a good idea.” I almost instinctively refused. Jax absolutely hated me checking up on him. There were times when I’d been uneasy and called him a few times before. Every time, it ended in a huge fight. He’d say I didn’t trust him, that I was bothering his work. Once, he even smashed a glass in front of a whole room of people and called me crazy. Chloe held her phone up to me. On the screen was one of Jax’s posts. “My wife is checking up on me again! ” “Such a silly girl, she just doesn’t believe I love her.” “But I really love how she gets all flustered and overthinks for me.” “Praying my wife checks up on me every single day.” The comment section was filled with “OMG, my heart!” I hesitated, then took the phone and dialed Jax’s number. It rang once and was immediately picked up. Jax’s tone wasn’t exactly warm, but he didn’t hang up immediately when I asked what he was doing. “Playing tennis with Liam, my assistant.” The sound of a tennis ball hitting the ground echoed from the other end of the line. Jax loved sports; he always set aside two or three days a week to play. Liam, his assistant, was someone I knew. A recent college graduate, with a clean background and a normal orientation. I awkwardly said, “Oh.” Jax’s sneer came through the phone. “Still don’t trust me? Why don’t you come see for yourself?” I quickly declined. “No, that’s okay.” My tennis skills weren’t great, and Jax played super aggressively, no holds barred. He’d absolutely crushed me with his serves a few times on the court. So I wasn’t eager to join in the fun. Jax gave a cold laugh on the other end. “Oh, by the way, I won’t be home tonight.” My concern for him was almost instinctive. “Is Liam with you?” Jax mumbled evasively. “Then tell Liam to be careful, your throat needs to drink…” “Alright. I need to play now.” Jax impatiently hung up before I could finish. Chloe looked at me, quite amused. “Happy now? Even if Jax did cheat, it wouldn’t be with Liam.” I forced a smile. Something still didn’t add up. I attributed it to worrying about Jax being away. After all, Jax, the big shot, always focused on his art and ignored practical matters, so all the household chores fell to me. I washed his underwear and socks, cooked him three meals a day. During the most exhausting times, I’d work two jobs a day and still come home to clean up his takeout containers left on the dining table. Chloe even joked that I was practically his mother. But when you love someone, you inevitably give more. I wrote a long list of instructions and sent them to Liam. Thinking he was with Jax playing tennis, I specifically added. “No rush, you can read it after you finish playing.” Liam’s call came through the next second. “Didn’t Jax tell you? I quit being his assistant two years ago.”

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On a New Year’s Day, Mom held my hand and led me out of the orphanage. At that time, I was five years old. She said from now on, my birthday would be January 1st. “Every year, we’ll celebrate your birthday with you and help you make one birthday wish come true.” I nodded hard. Back then, I didn’t understand that every wish I made, Mom would take something from me. At six, I wished to see fireworks, and my bone marrow was taken. At seven, I wished for a doll, and a kidney was removed. At eight, I wished for cake, and a lobe of my liver was cut out. This year, I was ten. Mom looked at me gently in the candlelight. “Willow, make a wish.” In the flickering candlelight, I closed my eyes. My only wish this year was that Mom wouldn’t take anything else from me. … Outside the window, fireworks sparkled in Mom’s gentle eyes. She softly asked, “What did you wish for this year, Willow?” I looked into her eyes, where I saw the warmth I had longed for all year. I carefully leaned closer and whispered, “I wished that you would love me forever, Mom.” Mom’s expression froze for a second. Then, she opened her arms and pulled me into a tight embrace. The hug was so tight I could barely breathe. She smelled faintly of perfume. My cheek pressed against her soft sweater, and my eyes immediately welled up. “Silly child,” Mom’s voice came from above my head, with a hint of a laugh. “Of course I love you. As long as you’re good, as long as Ava can live, I’ll love you forever.” I nodded vigorously, my tears soaking into her sweater. Mom only hugged me on my birthday when I made a wish, so this was the hug I had waited an entire year for. I reached out my thin arms, wanting to hug her back, but Mom pulled away first. She cupped my face in her hands, her thumb wiping away my tears. “You’re such a sensible girl. So, I’ll grant your wish, and you grant mine, okay? Just help Ava one more time, sweetie.” I nodded. It was always like this. I was used to it. “Ava’s heart is getting worse,” Mom’s voice remained gentle. “The doctor said she needs a healthy heart. Are you willing to give your heart to her?” “Tomorrow, Mom will take you to the hospital for a compatibility test. If it’s a match, Ava can live. Willow wants Ava to live, too, right?” I looked into her expectant eyes, at the gentle smile on her lips. “Okay,” I said. Mom’s smile instantly brightened. She hugged me again, this time quickly and lightly. “I knew Willow was the best girl.” As she stood up to cut the cake, the living room door suddenly burst open. Ava, my older sister, walked in, bundled in a thick winter coat. Her cheeks were red from the cold wind, but her eyes sparkled brightly. “Mom! The countdown event has started at the plaza! Elara said she can take us to the front to watch the fireworks show!” Mom immediately put down the cake knife and went to Ava, brushing the snowflakes off her shoulder. “Slow down, sweetie, don’t choke on the cold air. It’s so cold outside; how about we go after your surgery?” “But I want to go!” Ava tugged on Mom’s hand, whining playfully. “It’s only once a year! And the doctor said I’m stable right now…” Mom glanced at me, then back at Ava’s eagerly anticipating face. The glance was so brief, I couldn’t read the emotion in it. “Alright, alright, but just for a little while. You can’t get tired.” Mom’s tone held a pampering affection I’d never heard before. Then she turned to me. “Willow, you have your compatibility test at the hospital tomorrow. Get some rest tonight, so you won’t go.” I opened my mouth, wanting to say I wanted to see the fireworks too, a real fireworks display. Mom had promised me when I was six; I still remembered her smiling and saying, “Of course, after you help your sister, Mom will take you.” But after I donated my bone marrow on the operating table, Mom just patted my head and said, “We’ll see the fireworks next time; Ava can’t wait.” But the words caught in my throat, and I swallowed them back down. Mom was already leading Ava to the door, without looking back. “Willow, don’t eat anything after the cake. You need to fast tomorrow.” The door closed.

I stood there, still holding the piece of cake Mom had given me earlier. The living room fell silent, save for the noisy New Year’s Eve special on TV. The host was excitedly counting down: “Ten more minutes! The New Year is almost here!” I carried my cake and slowly walked back to my small room. The storage room had no windows. I sat on my little bed, eating the cake in tiny bites. It was sweet. Bitterly sweet. I suddenly remembered that night when I was seven, after the kidney transplant surgery. The anesthetic had worn off, and the wound burned like fire. I cried for Mom. A nurse came in, looked at me, and said Mom was in Ava’s room because Ava had a nightmare. That night, I counted the cracks in the ceiling. When I reached three hundred twenty-seven, the sky turned light. At eight, after the liver surgery, I vomited until I was dizzy. Mom came into the room for a quick look, frowning as she told the nurse, “Why is her reaction so strong? It won’t affect the liver’s quality, will it?” She didn’t ask if I was in pain. She didn’t ask if I was scared. She only cared about the organ that was no longer in my body, whether *it* was okay. The cake was quickly finished, but a sharper emptiness and pain gnawed at my stomach. Since that afternoon, I had only eaten this small piece of cake. Mom said I needed to fast, but no one told me fasting would be this unbearable. The old scars on my abdomen began to throb faintly. Ever since my kidney was removed, I’d been in pain every night, unable to sleep. The living room lights were already dim. Elara had probably gone to her room to rest after tidying up the kitchen. The entire house was quiet, except for the rumbling in my stomach and the scattered firecrackers celebrating the New Year in the distance. I held back for as long as I could, but eventually, I gently pushed open the storage room door. There had to be something to eat in the kitchen, even just a slice of bread. There was a bowl of soup in the fridge that looked delicious. I swallowed hard. “Willow?” Elara’s voice came from behind me. I jumped in fright, nearly dropping the bowl. “Are you hungry?” Elara walked over, looked at me, and her face showed a troubled expression. “But Mrs. Celeste specifically instructed that you need to have blood drawn tomorrow and must fast…” “Just one sip of soup,” I pleaded softly. My stomach let out another loud rumble. “Elara, I’m so hungry, my stomach hurts…” Elara hesitated. She looked at the clock on the wall, then at my pale little face and the hand clutching my stomach. Finally, she sighed. “Just a tiny sip, truly, only a tiny sip. Otherwise, if Mrs. Celeste finds out, I’ll be in trouble.” She took the bowl of soup from the fridge, poured a small spoonful into a cup, and heated it in the microwave. During those few seconds, a rich aroma wafted out. My stomach felt clutched by an invisible hand, and the pain made me bend over. “Here, drink slowly.” The moment the warm soup flowed down my throat, I almost burst into tears. I was so hungry, every warm sip felt like salvation. I held the cup, sipping in small gulps, afraid of drinking too fast and running out. Just then, the sound of keys turning came from the entryway. Dad and Mom were back with Ava. Ava was cradled in Dad’s arms, her little face buried in his shoulder, breathing steadily. Mom followed behind, carrying Ava’s small backpack. When they saw me standing in the kitchen, holding the cup, their smiles instantly froze. “Willow? Didn’t I tell you to fast?” Mom rushed over in a few steps, snatching the cup from my hand. Ava woke up with the commotion. She opened her eyes, saw Mom’s furious face, and instinctively shrank further into Dad’s embrace. “Mom…” I looked at her, tears uncontrollably welling up. “I’m really hungry, my stomach hurts so bad…” I pointed to the side of my abdomen where my kidney was missing. It was throbbing with pain from hunger and cold. “Why are you in pain? You’re doing this on purpose! Are you deliberately eating because you don’t want to donate your heart to Ava?” “No, Mom, I’m really hungry…” I cried out, trying to pull on her sleeve. Dad frowned, carrying Ava and turning to walk towards the master bedroom. “Celeste, put Ava to bed first. Don’t scare the child.” Mom’s finger almost poked my nose. “Willow, didn’t I tell you that as long as you’re good, I’ll love you? Didn’t you promise you’d give your heart to Ava?” “I promised, I promised, Mom, please don’t yell at me, don’t abandon me…” I cried, gasping for air. “You’re a liar! You just don’t want to save Ava! I raised you for nothing!” She grabbed my arm, her grip so strong it felt like she was crushing my bones, and dragged me towards the storage room. A familiar fear washed over me like a tide. She was going to abandon me, just like the auntie at the orphanage said back then, disobedient children eventually get thrown away. Mom shoved me roughly into the storage room. I stumbled and fell to the floor, the pain piercing. “You selfish ingrate, stay here and reflect!” The storage room door slammed shut, and the familiar darkness enveloped me.

I curled up in the cold corner, my stomach aching with emptiness. Hunger gnawed at me from the inside, making me shiver and tremble. What was worse was the itch. I couldn’t help but scratch, my nails leaving red marks on my skin. But the more I scratched, the more it itched, an unbearable itch that made me want to roll on the floor. “Don’t be hungry anymore, Mom doesn’t want me anymore…” I mumbled, digging my fingers hard into my skin. “A heart transplant will fix it… If I scratch it clean, Mom will come back…” My nails broke the skin, and warm liquid oozed out. The pain finally overshadowed the itching. Darkness stole my vision, but it made my other senses incredibly sharp. I could hear my own heavy breathing, and I could smell the sweet scent of dumplings in the air. It was New Year’s Day; every family must be eating dumplings. I wished I could eat some too. My consciousness gradually blurred, and I saw that woman again. On a snowy night, she wore a thin coat, holding a child tightly bundled in her arms. I couldn’t clearly see her face, only remembered that she kept crying, her shoulders shaking violently. She placed the child on the cold steps and turned to leave. “Mommy… Mommy…” The child cried out, stretching out tiny hands. That was me. One or two years old. The woman paused for a moment but didn’t look back. Snowflakes fell on her head, quickly turning her into a white shadow. “Mommy, take me with you, I’ll be good!” “Don’t leave me… please… don’t leave me…” I cried and chased after her, but her back grew smaller and smaller, finally disappearing into the wind and snow at the street corner. I knelt in the snow, crying until my throat was hoarse, crying until my whole body was stiff. Until an auntie from the orphanage came out, dragged me back like garbage, and threw me into that small, windowless dark room. “What are you crying for? Your mom doesn’t want you! Crying won’t help!” The sound of the lock clicking, exactly like tonight. “No… Mom… don’t abandon me…” I woke up sobbing in my dream, my face wet, unable to tell if it was cold sweat or tears. It was morning. I struggled to get up. The scratched wounds had formed thin scabs, tearing with every movement, a ripping pain. I leaned against the wall, slowly shuffling to the door, and gently pushed it open a crack. The living room lights were on, and a large plate of white, plump dumplings sat on the dining table. Ava sat in her special high-backed chair, a few dumplings in a small bowl in front of her. Mom was picking one up, carefully blowing on it to cool it, and putting it to Ava’s mouth. “Here, Ava, open up. These are lucky dumplings. Eat them for a safe and healthy New Year.” Ava obediently opened her mouth, took a bite, and a satisfied smile appeared on her face. “Delicious!” “If it’s delicious, eat more.” Dad sat next to her, smiling as he poured Ava a glass of warm milk. “It’s New Year’s Day today, our Ava needs to eat plenty of fortune.” My gaze was fixed on that plate of dumplings. Hungry, so hungry, I saw black spots before my eyes. I forgot the pain, forgot last night’s punishment, my eyes saw nothing but food. “Willow?” Dad saw me first, pausing in surprise. Mom and Ava also turned their heads. But at that moment, I couldn’t care about anything else. All my attention was on the dumpling that had fallen out of Ava’s bowl. Before my fingertips could even touch it, Ava, trying to protect her bowl, accidentally bumped my hand with her arm. Already weak, I toppled over from her touch, crashing into the dining table and making a mess. Then, Ava burst into tears, “Wah!” Her eyes instantly flooded. “My dumplings… my lucky dumplings… they’re gone…” Mom’s face turned ashen. She abruptly stood up, and a heavy slap landed on my face. My head snapped to the side, my ears rang, and half my face was numb with a burning sensation. “Willow, are you doing this on purpose? You can’t stand to see Ava doing well, can you? You even try to snatch Ava’s lucky dumplings?” I cried, shaking my head, my insides clenching with fear. “I’m so hungry, I want to save Ava, I’ll give my heart to Ava, just let me eat something…” Mom suddenly let out a cold laugh, grabbing me and dragging me towards the door. “Then let’s go to the hospital right now, get the surgery done early! So you won’t be an eyesore at home, always thinking about harming Ava!” The cold morning wind cut like a knife across my face. Dressed in my thin pajamas, I was shoved into the car by Mom. The car drove towards the hospital. I was led into a bright room. The doctor, wearing a white coat, looked at me, covered in scratches, and frowned deeply. “Mr. Marcus, Mrs. Celeste, this child looks at most ten years old, and her body is severely depleted. Do you really want to do a heart compatibility test now?” “Is the child willing? Have you asked for the child’s opinion?” Mom’s face was full of anger. “She’s willing.” I found strength from somewhere and dropped to my knees before Mom, tears streaming down my face. “Dad, Mom, I want to eat lucky dumplings, I want Mom to call me sweetie, I want Mom to love me.” “I want to live past this year too.”

I cried, trembling uncontrollably, almost suffocating. The hospital room instantly fell silent. Ava, startled by me, shrank into Mom’s arms, coughing violently. “Mom! Does she not want to give me her heart anymore?” “It’s all because of her! Ever since she came to our house, I’ve been sick, always having surgery. Did she pass her bad luck onto me?” “Oh, and she stole my lucky dumplings this year, and now she wants to steal my Dad and Mom too!” Steal? I abruptly looked up, screaming as if I’d lost my mind, tears mixing with the bloodstains on my face. “Then who took what was drawn from my spine, who took my kidney, who took my liver from my belly!” “My body, my organs, my life, aren’t they worth anything? Ever since I came here, I’ve been losing things, always in pain. I never took anything, I gave you everything!” Another slap, heavier and crueler than before. This time it was Dad. His big hand roughly grabbed my hair, yanking me up from the floor. “Willow, your wretched life, from the day you were abandoned at the orphanage entrance, it was worthless!” “A worthless thing abandoned by her own parents, a good-for-nothing who would eventually starve, freeze, or fall ill and die in an orphanage! Our family took pity on you, pulled you out of that awful place! We gave you food, we gave you clothes!” “From the day we brought you home, your existence was solely for Ava to live! Now Ava needs your heart, this is your fate, what you owe our family!” I lay on the ground, my blood frozen. So that’s how it was. Just because I owed them. Then I’ll pay them back. I smiled faintly, slowly pushed myself up, and stood shakily. “Doctor, I voluntarily agree to the surgery. Can we do it now?” Dad grunted. “It’s about time. Stop stalling and delaying Ava’s condition!” I entered the operating room. Anesthetic slowly spread from the vein on the back of my hand, flowing through my limbs. The doctor was making the final preparations. I strained to turn my head, looking at the small observation window of the operating room. Behind the window glass, two shadowy figures stood. It was Dad and Mom. They stood side by side, their gaze fixed on Ava, who was on another operating table beside me. Mom pressed her hands together under her chin, as if praying, Dad’s arm was around her shoulder, his lips pressed thin. From beginning to end, they never looked at me. Not even once. The anesthetic’s potency grew stronger, and my consciousness began to blur. The last thing I saw was Mom leaning close to the observation window, nodding vigorously at the doctor inside, her lips seeming to form the words: “Please, save her.” Then she turned and walked with Dad towards Ava’s observation room next door. Their backs, and the retreating shadow from that snowy night in my memory, completely overlapped at that moment. I closed my eyes, letting the darkness completely envelop me. Mom, Dad. Everything you wanted, I’ve given back to you. My bone marrow, my kidney, my liver, and this heart. This time, we’re finally even. I don’t owe you anything anymore. I don’t know how much time passed, but the door opened again. Outside the operating room, Dad and Mom rushed over as soon as the chief surgeon emerged. The surgeon nodded. “The surgery was very successful, with almost no rejection.” “This situation is extremely rare in non-blood-related transplants; usually, only direct blood relatives have such perfect tissue compatibility.” The air suddenly froze. Dad’s voice was hoarse as he spoke. “Direct blood relatives?”

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My wife, Stella Reed, and I resented each other for half our lives. She hated me for tying her down with marriage and kids, making her lose her chance to make it big in New York. I hated her for constantly partying, dumping her ailing parents and our two kids on me. When we both reincarnated, we locked eyes in the crowd, then turned and walked away from each other without a second thought. Hopefully, this time, neither of us will have any regrets. The day I finally confirmed my university application, my dad walked into my study, glanced at me, and nodded in approval. “Alright, son, with those SAT scores, you should go to a good university! Don’t spend all your time chasing after that Reed girl, what’s so great about her anyway?” My mom heard him from the kitchen, rushed in, pulled my dad away, and shot him a glare. “Keep it down. He knows what he’s doing.” I smiled, watching my parents leave, and suddenly felt a lump in my throat. In my previous life, I’d snuck out of the house late at night to go to the train station to find Stella. My parents, worried sick, went looking for me and were hit by a drunk truck driver. I never even got to see them one last time. I swallowed back my tears, moved my mouse, and clicked the final confirmation button on my university application without hesitation. In my last life, Stella, who I’d grown up with, suddenly declared she wanted to be a singer and move to New York to pursue her dream. But before that, she’d always said her dream was to be with me, and for us to go to the same university. For her, I didn’t hesitate to waste my incredibly high SAT scores, applying to the same average university she did. But two days before the acceptance letters arrived, she suddenly announced her plan to chase her dream in New York. Stella’s sick parents came knocking on our door, begging me to help them find their daughter. I went in my previous life. My parents, worried about me, chased after me and ended up in that car accident. When I finally brought Stella back, she heard her parents’ tearful accusations—that she was responsible for my parents’ deaths—and that she *had* to make it up to me. So they forced Stella and me to get engaged, planning for us to marry right after graduation. But then she got pregnant when I was just a sophomore, forcing her to take an early leave from school and rush our marriage. Pregnancy, childbirth, childcare—two years flew by. I was thrilled to return to campus, but then Stella’s parents fell seriously ill and came to live with us for treatment. Stella told me to be sensible. She said her parents had already worked so hard for her education, and now they were sick and needed care. As for her, she would, of course, go to work to earn money and support the family. Back then, for Stella’s sake, I didn’t mention that her meager monthly salary wasn’t even enough for the kids’ formula or our basic household expenses. Eventually, I had to sell our old house to cover her parents’ medical bills and raise our two children. But while I sacrificed my education and struggled to keep our large family afloat, she used her small salary to hang out with dubious friends. What little money she had, she spent on music, claiming it was to fulfill her dream. The pressure of the family choked me. After several failed attempts at communication, we started having massive arguments. She’d call me old-fashioned and useless, narrow-minded, claiming that if I hadn’t dragged her back, she’d be a big singer in New York by now. She even accused me of using my parents’ deaths to guilt-trip her into marrying me. I didn’t hold back either, calling her delusional! With that raspy voice, thinking she could be a singer was pure fantasy! When she brought up my parents’ deaths, I snapped. I lunged at her, wanting to shut her up, but she shoved me away hard. After that, Stella started deliberately staying out, and her parents, who rarely saw their daughter, blamed everything on me. They complained that I was insensitive and inconsiderate, always upsetting their daughter. They completely forgot how they’d begged me to find her in the first place. In that miserable life, I gritted my teeth, pinched pennies, and took on odd jobs to earn money to support the family. But the children I worked so hard to raise were never close to me. They were always much closer to Stella, who never did anything. I thought they’d understand when they grew up. I waited over two decades, until they were married with their own families. But they all vied to have Stella live with them, while they were cold and distant towards me. “Dad, you controlled us too much when we were young. We don’t want to hear lectures anymore.” “Mom’s dreams were crushed by you when she was young. Now that she’s older, we’re taking her to New York to chase them again.” “Grandma and Grandpa Reed were right, you just want everyone to live the life you plan. You’re selfish!” I never imagined my own children would say such things. I went home heartbroken, only to see Stella triumphantly packing her bags, bragging about how she was finally leaving me to live the good life. I’d slaved away for this family for over two decades, only to be branded selfish and controlling. Why did Stella get to be so carefree? She ignored her family and responsibilities, yet ended up being the open-minded mother in our children’s eyes? I lunged forward and pushed Stella down. She was stunned for a moment, then grabbed a vase and smashed it at me. “You dare lay a hand on me? I’ll kill you…” So our deaths were, in fact, the just deserts of our mutual fight. The moment we both fell to the ground, I prayed in my heart that if there was a next life, I’d never, ever meet Stella Reed again.

The day I reincarnated was the same day I finally confirmed my university application. Looking at my parents, who were still by my side, I vowed never to get involved with Stella again. After the SATs, parties were popping up left and right. My friends and I had just finished one when I spotted Stella not far away, laughing and chatting with her own group of friends. She wore a dress, her long hair draped over her shoulders, her eyes crinkling when she smiled, making her stand out in the crowd. “I heard Stella Reed isn’t going to college; she’s off to New York to be a singer!” “Wow, is that what they call ‘chasing your dream’ these days? If she becomes a big star, shouldn’t we get a few signed photos now, for future value?” “Alex, aren’t you and Stella childhood friends? You must know about her going to New York, right?” My friend nudged me, and my gaze happened to cross the crowd, meeting Stella’s as she casually turned her head. Her eyes landed on me, freezing for a moment, a complex, unreadable light flashing within them. Just that one look, and I knew: Stella had also reincarnated. “I don’t know. I have something to do; I’m heading back.” I turned away without a trace of lingering emotion. If she wanted to go to New York, let her. What did her life have to do with me? As the day of Stella’s departure approached, I playfully told my parents I missed Grandma and wanted them to come visit her with me. My parents, who always doted on me, packed our bags without a second thought and took me out the door. Just then, Monica Reed, Stella’s mom, opened her door and looked surprised to see us leaving. “Going somewhere?” My dad chuckled, “Alex misses his grandma. We’re staying a few days.” Monica smiled and nodded, watching us leave. I pretended to be nonchalant, but inside, I clenched my fists tight, not letting my emotions show. It was laughable that in my previous life, I believed Monica truly cared about me. Only later did I realize her motives were never pure from the start. She’d had her eyes on our house for a long time, which was why she worked so hard to push Stella and me together after my parents died. Back then, without my parents, I cried constantly. Gentle, good-tempered Monica took care of me daily, making me drop all my guard. Plus, I liked Stella, so I naturally agreed. Who would have thought they had been prepared from the very beginning? I took a deep breath, hiding the slight tremor caused by my anger, and cheerfully talked to my parents about Grandma’s new pony, though from the corner of my eye, I saw Stella’s hurried footsteps. Stella must have realized I’d also reincarnated, so her plan to leave home and chase her dream had to be moved up.

My parents and I had just arrived at Grandma’s house and were enjoying dinner when Mom received a call from Monica Reed. “Stella is insisting on going to New York to be a singer, she won’t go to college, she’s literally threatening to die if we don’t let her go to New York. Her dad and I can’t persuade her… Can Alex come back and talk to her? After all, the kids are close, and Stella listens to Alex!” The lines were almost identical to my previous life. Mom looked at me, a little conflicted. After all, at this hour, in the countryside, it wasn’t easy to get back. I calmly put down my forks and took the phone from Mom. “Aunt Monica, this is Stella’s own decision. I can’t interfere. Even if I did, she’d resent me. I think you should just respect her wishes!” I hung up decisively, and didn’t forget to block Monica’s number. My swift actions even left my parents speechless for a moment. It was Grandma who spoke first, telling them to eat. She mumbled that other people’s affairs were their own karma, and we shouldn’t interfere. I thought Grandma was absolutely right! After dinner, I squatted in the yard, stroking the soft head of a puppy, when my parents came over. “Alex, what’s been up with you lately…” Mom hesitated, “I just feel like you’re different.” Dad didn’t speak but looked at me worriedly too. Their gaze made my nose sting, and I wiped my eyes—there really were tears. “Mom, Dad, I had a dream.” I lied about having a dream, recounting all the events of my previous life. When they heard how I’d been manipulated by the Reed family after their deaths, Dad’s face turned as dark as thunder. They always believed me, especially since I started the story from Stella wanting to go to New York and Monica asking me to find her. They understood why I suddenly wanted to come to Grandma’s house and why I stubbornly refused to go look for Stella. “My poor boy, my suffering son.” Mom was always easily moved to tears. Even though she knew it was just a dream, she immediately pulled me into a hug, her tears falling onto my shoulder, her heart aching. Dad lit a cigarette nearby and made a decision. “Alex having this dream probably means their family and ours are just bad for each other. I’ve decided, we’re moving when we get back! Get away from them.” I hadn’t expected my parents to support me to this extent. My nose stung again, and I nodded, tearfully. At the same time, I hugged Mom tighter, feeling her warmth. We stayed in the countryside for half a month. I visibly got tanner and my body became more solid. When we went back, Grandma even packed a car full of food for us. We still had to live in the old house for a while before moving. The three of us had just reached our front door when Monica Reed from next door quickly opened hers, her eyes red from crying, with undisguised resentment flickering in them.

“Why didn’t you answer my calls?” Monica’s face was almost twisted with accusation. “Why didn’t you come back to help me find Stella?” Monica suddenly yelled, startling my parents. They clearly hadn’t expected her to be so emotional. I, however, watched her coldly. After being her son-in-law for over two decades, I knew better than anyone her talent for theatrics and twisting facts. My mom couldn’t stand it and was about to speak up, but I tugged her arm. “Let’s go inside. It’s not worth it.” Mom hugged me, shot Monica a fierce glare, but couldn’t resist throwing out one last line: “You can’t manage your own daughter and expect Alex to do it for you? What relationship does Alex have with you to do such a thing? You’ve got the wrong person, I’m telling you!” Once inside, my dad immediately started contacting friends to arrange house viewings for the afternoon. If things went smoothly, we might even move tomorrow. Mom and I sat on the couch, Mom patting my back distractedly. “It’s okay, it’s okay. We’ll be far away from them, very soon.” I leaned against Mom, humming in agreement. The speed of finding and moving houses was faster than I expected. Even faster was the university acceptance letter that had already arrived. This time, there was no Stella, no car accident. I happily went to school to collect my acceptance letter. When I got home, my parents were still discussing how much allowance to give me. We laughed together, so incredibly happy. Only occasionally would I still dream of my previous life, how I struggled to support a family on meager savings, enduring the complaints of Stella’s parents, the misunderstandings of my children, and the constant bickering with Stella, just to survive those years. Thankfully, I was starting over. Soon, the school year began. Standing on campus, my parents were also happy with my decision to choose this university. In my previous life, at this time, I had just finished my parents’ funeral, distraught, heading to that ordinary university with Stella. Whenever people asked about our relationship, Stella would instinctively keep her distance from me, then force an unnatural smile. She’d say I was her classmate, even though we were already engaged then. I shook my head, clearing away the extra thoughts, and went to the registration office with my parents. New school, new beginning. After my parents reluctantly left, I quickly adapted to the new environment, cherishing everything around me. The education I couldn’t continue in my last life because of childcare and family responsibilities now finally had a chance to resume. I studied harder than anyone. When I went home for winter break, I brought back scholarship money and what I earned from coding freelance gigs. I bought gifts for both my parents. Their eyes crinkled into slits as they smiled, praising me as their most successful son. That night, my parents teamed up to make a huge dinner. At the dinner table, we chatted about recent events, until Mom casually mentioned she’d seen Monica Reed a couple of days ago. “She and her husband were selling vegetables at the market. They were only barely getting by on their relief funds after being laid off…” My mom sighed wistfully. “I heard Stella signed with some company in New York. The monthly training fees alone are thousands, not including food and lodging. If she really succeeds, fine, but if not…” I lowered my head, picking at my food, but laughed mockingly inside. Stella wouldn’t succeed; I was absolutely sure of that. Stella was someone who couldn’t resist showing off. As soon as she signed with some obscure company, she posted it on her social media. But she was so caught up in the fact that a company signed her that she didn’t pay any attention to the company’s name.

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The bomb disposal mission went south. Marcus, my husband and fellow EOD specialist, ripped the only blast shield right out of my hands and handed it to his first love, Skylar. I grabbed his arm, pleading desperately. But he just shoved me away. “You’re so selfish! You’ve got that revive system—what do you need a blast shield for?” “Skylar’s fragile, she can’t handle any impact. She needs both blast shields to be safe!” He had no idea. The system only gave me two revival charges. One, I’d used to save Skylar when I couldn’t say no to his begging. The other, I’d used last year to save him when he was dying on a mission. Today, I’m really going to die. When the bomb went off, the whole room went up in flames. The fire swallowed me instantly. The last thing I saw was Marcus using my blast shield to shield Skylar like his life depended on it. When I came to, I was a ghost, following Marcus around. He was holding Skylar’s hand—only slightly singed by the fire—blowing on it softly. “Skylar, your hand’s all red. We need to get you to the ER right now.” Hearing that, my chest burned like acid was eating through it—bitter, unbearable. Anyone watching would think they were deeply in love, that their bond was unbreakable. But this man was my husband of three years. He’d never looked at me with that kind of worry before. Skylar’s palm had a faint red mark, barely noticeable, but Marcus was panicking over it. Meanwhile, when I was burning alive, he didn’t even spare me a glance. Skylar looked spooked, her thin shoulders shaking a little. “Marcus, it’s just a scratch, I’m fine. Thank god you were there—otherwise I’d be in way worse shape.” “Scratch? What if there’s internal damage? I’m not leaving until a doctor clears you.” He grabbed Skylar’s hand and rushed out, his normally calm face tight with worry. Before they got in the car, our colleague Chloe stopped him, frowning. “Marcus, Rory never made it out of the site. Did something happen to her in the blast?” When he heard my name, Marcus’s face twisted in disgust. “What could happen to her? Selfish people like that value their own skin too much—she’s probably hiding somewhere.” “Move. Skylar can’t wait.” From the second the bomb went off until now, Marcus hadn’t asked a single thing about whether I was alive. Even when others worried about me, he still had to put me down. As his wife, I was nothing but a disappointment to him. Marcus shoved Chloe aside, ignoring the shouts behind him, and drove Skylar straight to the ER. The exam showed Skylar was totally fine—just a tiny red mark on her hand. But Marcus acted like she’d been stabbed, insisting the doctors wrap it up. Skylar looked at him with tears in her eyes. “Marcus, you still care so much about me.” Then she hesitated, softening her voice. “Is Rory okay without the blast shield? She did come to save me… if something happened to her, I’d feel awful.” Marcus waved her off. “Rory’s got that weird ability—she can’t die. You’re fragile, you can’t take any hits.” “She even tried grabbing the blast shield earlier, saying she’d die this time. So selfish. She’s got that ability to protect herself, but she tried lying to me. Probably just jealous I care about you so much. When she gets back, I’m gonna give her a piece of my mind!” By the end, Marcus looked furious—like I’d done something unforgivable. But I just wanted to live. And I wasn’t lying. That ability only gave me two shots, and I’d already used them both.

I wasn’t from this world. My mission was to marry Marcus. When we met, we were both new EOD techs. Back then, his girlfriend Skylar had gone overseas and dumped him. Marcus was a mess, and I was the one who helped him pull through. Three years later, we got married naturally, and my mission was done. As a reward, I got two revival chances and could stay in this world. By then, I’d actually fallen in love with Marcus. I thought spouses should be honest, so I told him everything—no secrets. I even joked, “No matter what happens, I can’t die. I’ll stay with you forever.” I never thought those words would be my death warrant. Not long after we married, Skylar came back. She cried a little in front of Marcus, saying her parents made her go overseas—she had no choice. Marcus bought it hook, line, and sinker. Like he forgot all the pain Skylar put him through. He started doting on her again—checking in on her every second. Then, when Skylar got into a car crash and was on death’s door, he begged me—pleaded— to use one of my chances to save her. Watching Marcus cry his eyes out, my chest hurt like hell. My husband was sobbing over another woman. How could I not be hurt? Not be furious? But I loved him. I couldn’t say no. So I used my first chance. Last year, after Marcus disarmed a bomb, the bad guys ambushed him—shot him right through the heart. The doctors said he was gone before he hit the ground. I couldn’t let him die. I didn’t hesitate to use my last chance on him. Before I activated the ability, that voice kept asking: “This is your last chance. Do you regret it?” I said, “No regrets.” After that, the voice disappeared. Back then, I thought Marcus’s thing for Skylar was just a phase. That with time, he’d come back to his senses and focus on us. I really thought we’d grow old together. But now, reality hit me like a ton of bricks. Marcus had always loved Skylar. And me? I was just fooling myself.

Skylar looked at Marcus, like she wanted to say something but held back—her long lashes fluttering. Marcus booped her forehead gently. “Skylar, you can tell me anything.” Skylar twisted the hem of her shirt, then took a breath. “Marcus, Rory’s the best EOD tech on the team. And with you helping her… how did the bomb go off so suddenly? Could it be…” She didn’t finish the thought, leaving it hanging—open to all kinds of assumptions. I was so angry I could’ve screamed. My hands balled into fists, and I wanted to slap her stupid. I was already dead, and she still wouldn’t leave me alone—trying to make Marcus think I was a monster. As a cop, I knew my job. I never let personal stuff get in the way of work. After six years working together, I thought Marcus would at least know who I was. But Marcus’s next words crushed that hope. “I knew it! The defusal was going fine—how else would it blow? That psycho Rory must’ve messed it up to hurt you! I’m gonna report her to Internal Affairs! She doesn’t deserve to wear a badge!” Marcus’s face was red with rage. If I were there right then, he’d probably slap me and call me every name in the book. All I felt now was bitter. Did I think I mattered more to him than I did? Or was Skylar just so important that he’d believe anything she said? Probably both. Six years together, and I couldn’t get an ounce of his trust. Now, in his eyes, I was just some terrible person. I still remembered our wedding vows. He said, “You’re not just my wife—you’re my partner. I’ll always trust you.” Now, one little comment from Skylar, and he forgot every word. I wondered—would he regret this when he found out I was dead? Marcus paced back and forth, all worked up, like he needed to punch something. He pulled out his phone and texted me: “Rory, you tampered with that bomb? I’ll make you pay for this!” “Don’t think I don’t know you can’t die—answer me right now!” Marcus stared at his phone. One minute, two minutes… no reply. Normally, I’d text him back immediately. Marcus’s chest heaved. “Fine—playing dead, huh? We’ll see about that!” He called a colleague at the scene. Before the guy could even say hello, Marcus snapped: “Tell Rory I know what she did! She’s getting written up!” The voice on the other end sounded worried. “Marcus, Rory never came out! The fire’s still going—we can’t get in. She might actually be…” Marcus scoffed. “She’s not dead. She’s just hiding ‘cause she’s scared of getting caught! Tell her that trick won’t work—she almost killed Skylar, and I’m not letting this slide!” He hung up angrily, muttering under his breath. Skylar’s eyes lit up for a second—like she was pleased—but then she softened. “Marcus, women get jealous sometimes. Rory probably just made a mistake. Let it go.” Marcus frowned. “Let it go? After your car accident, you’re still fragile. If it weren’t for the blast shield, you’d be dead! I’m not letting her get away with this!” Skylar hugged him tight, like they’d just survived something terrible.

When they left the hospital, Marcus used Skylar’s ‘injury’ as an excuse to take her straight to our house. As soon as she walked in, Skylar grabbed a pair of slippers like she owned the place—and even found the TV remote right away. She moved like she’d been here a hundred times—meaning Marcus had brought her over before. Marcus went into the kitchen to cook, rambling about Skylar’s favorite foods. In three years of marriage, he never cooked for me. Said he didn’t know how. I never minded—I did all the cooking anyway. Turns out, he just didn’t want to cook for me. Skylar smiled at him softly. “Marcus, I’ve missed your cooking so much.” During dinner, Marcus’s phone rang. It was Chloe—crying so hard she could barely speak. “Marcus, get here… Rory’s… she’s gone.” Marcus rolled his eyes. “Chloe, I know you’re Rory’s friend, but this is ridiculous. She can’t die—stop helping her lie.” Chloe paused, then sobbed louder. “Marcus, I’m not lying—Rory—” Marcus hung up before she could finish. “Rory’s taking this too far! Using death as an excuse? Unbelievable!” “Even if something happened, she can just revive herself! How could she die?” Skylar nodded. “She’s just jealous. I get it—women can be like that. Don’t stress.” Marcus slammed his fork down. “If she doesn’t apologize to you properly when she gets back? We’re getting divorced!” My chest felt tight—like I couldn’t breathe. When I begged him not to take the blast shield, I told him I only had two chances left. But he didn’t believe me. Thought I was just jealous of Skylar. Even when someone told him I was dead, he called it a lie—and threatened divorce. But that trick was done. After dinner, Skylar went straight to my bedroom—my and Marcus’s bed. The air felt thick, and they leaned closer… I wanted to run, but something kept me there—like I was glued to the spot. Right before their lips touched, Marcus jumped up. He forced a smile. “Skylar, your hand’s hurt. You should rest.” Then he practically ran to the guest room. I was confused. Wasn’t this what he wanted? The next morning, Marcus made a huge breakfast, left a note with instructions, and headed out like nothing was wrong. At the precinct, everyone looked at him like he was broken. He stopped a coworker. “What’s going on?” Before the guy could answer, Chief Miller called him over. Marcus frowned. “Chief? What’s up?” Chief Miller clapped him on the shoulder and led him to the morgue. “Marcus… I’m sorry.” Marcus laughed nervously. “Sorry for what? My family’s fine.” The Chief sighed. “The bomb yesterday… Rory didn’t make it. She’s in there.” Marcus’s smile froze. “Chief, that’s not funny. Rory caused the explosion—she can’t die. She’s just hiding.” The Chief’s face hardened. “Marcus! Rory was your wife—and a good cop! Don’t say that about her!” “Her body’s in there. DNA confirmed it. If you don’t believe me, see for yourself.” Marcus’s throat went dry. He stepped forward, but his voice shook. “Fine—I’ll see. It’s a trick. Rory’s just messing with us.” His hand hovered over the white sheet, trembling like a leaf. Slowly, he pulled it back…

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “334162”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #重生Reborn #现实主义Realistic

Four months after we broke up, I called Jace. “I’m pregnant. Do you want this baby?” Jace recoiled instantly. “We were super careful. Don’t try to pin this on me.” I asked again, my voice calm. “You’re sure you don’t want this child, right?” “I don’t,” Jace firmly replied. I exhaled, a wave of relief washing over me. Good. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about him trying to fight me for Luna later. I raised our daughter alone. Until she was five. Then, my ex and his best friend both started fighting to be her dad. It had been six years since I last saw Jace. Honestly, he hadn’t changed much. Still dressed fashionably, but his face looked grim. “Mom, I’m hungry!” Luna rubbed her tummy. I turned and headed into the kitchen to prepare her a bowl of oatmeal. Jace still stood frozen at the doorway. Luna finished her big bowl, then turned to Jace, letting out a heavy sigh. “Mom, maybe you two should talk? I’ve got homework to do,” she said, picking up her little backpack. “But just so you know, you can’t give away my custody rights, okay?” The words “custody rights” finally hit a nerve with Jace. He glared at me, his voice booming. “Chloe, you secretly had my child!” I glanced at Luna’s tightly shut bedroom door. My daughter was mature for her age, but some things weren’t meant for her ears. Worried the walls weren’t thick enough, I stepped out, leading Jace into the stairwell. “Chloe, don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to. Are you after my family’s money, hoping to get a piece of the pie by having a kid?” Jace scoffed. “I’m telling you, it won’t be that easy!” I pulled out my phone and played a recording I’d saved for six years. “I’m pregnant. Do you want this baby?” “We were super careful. Don’t try to pin this on me.” “You’re sure you don’t want this child, right?” “I don’t.” After it played, I feared Jace hadn’t heard, so I replayed it. He froze, his angry questions dying in his throat, like someone had just muted him. “I expected something like this, so I kept all the evidence safe and sound,” I said, crossing my arms. I gave Jace a critical once-over. “You’ve been around forever, and your parents still haven’t made you the heir. Guess they know you’re not up to it. You think you can fight me for custody? As if *you* could!” Jace, enraged, punched the wall. I patted his shoulder. “Just a warning: stay away from my daughter from now on, or I’ll call the police and report you for child abduction.” “Why? I’m her dad!” “Oh? Proof?” “I can do a paternity test!” I looked at him with pity. “You can’t just run off and do a private paternity test, Jace. It won’t stand up in court.”

Jace left, grumbling and clearly pissed off. That evening at dinner, Luna kept sighing dramatically. “Mom, why weren’t you more careful when you were looking for a dad for me?” she asked indignantly. “Were you only focused on how hot he was?” “I was young back then,” I reflected, genuinely reconsidering my past choices. “Will he keep bothering me?” “Hard to say,” I mused. “He definitely didn’t want kids before, but who knows if he’s changed his mind now that he’s older. Anyway, how did you even run into Jace?” “I saw him talking to our principal after school today,” Luna said, not looking up. “They must know each other, right?” The next day, after dropping Luna off at school, I drove to my shop. When Luna was younger, I’d been doing private baking from home to make it easier to care for her. Later, when she was a bit older and I’d won a pretty prestigious international baking award, I decided to open this dessert shop. Business had been good these past two years, with a steady stream of customers, and I was actually thinking about opening a second location. Soon after I arrived, a middle-aged woman walked in, wanting to order a five-tier birthday cake. “Of course,” I said, smiling as I sat down with her to discuss the details. She wore an elegant green dress and had a kind smile. Suddenly, she asked, “Are you married?” I smiled. “No.” Then she asked, “Do you have a boyfriend?” I shook my head again. The woman’s smile widened. “I’m Jace’s mom! Jace is single too! Why don’t you consider him again?” Before I could answer, she eagerly pulled out a bracelet and tried to put it on my wrist. Eleanor was incredibly kind throughout our conversation. She probably worried I’d misunderstand her intentions—that she was there to fight for custody—so she proactively explained that she just wanted to get close to Luna. “It must be hard raising a child alone. I just want to help you.” I wasn’t naive enough to believe Eleanor was as genuinely sweet as she appeared. She was a total corporate shark. The Sterling family must have already done a private paternity test, confirming Luna was Jace’s biological daughter. They’d likely consulted lawyers and realized their chances of winning a custody battle were slim to none. So, they had no choice but to push for shared custody. “Mrs. Sterling, I respect Luna’s wishes,” I said, smiling. “As long as Luna is willing to get close to you all, I won’t object.” Eleanor excitedly said, “Then I’ll arrange a dinner party right away!” I emphasized that I needed to respect Luna’s opinion and discuss it with her first. After exchanging contact info with Eleanor, she made a phone call, beaming. “Come in. Apologize properly to Chloe, and then thank her.” Then I saw Jace push open the door, looking totally annoyed. He must have been waiting in the car, ready to be summoned. When he saw me, a flicker of triumph crossed his eyes.

As school dismissal approached, I finished up my work, planning to pick Luna up. Jace lingered, saying he wanted to see Luna too. “You should probably stay away from Luna for a bit,” I told him honestly. “You need to give her some time to process.” Time to accept that her biological father was a good-looking dummy. “Why?” Jace huffed, looking personally attacked. “I’m tall, handsome, and rich. What could Luna possibly be unhappy about?” “Luna’s more interested in personality than pretty faces.” “Chloe, what’s that supposed to mean?” Jace blew up instantly. “Elaborate! You were the one who chased me first, remember?” “Yeah, and now I’m using that firsthand lesson to teach Luna not to just look at a guy’s face, right?” I stomped on the gas, not bothering to say another word to Jace. During school dismissal, the school entrance was pure chaos. I parked the car in the lot and walked over. Luna was just walking out with a classmate, laughing and chatting, her backpack on. Spotting me from way across the lot, she immediately started waving, all excited. “Mom, did the teacher tell you? We have a parent-teacher conference next week!” “Yep, saw the alert on our Snapchat group.” I scooped Luna into my arms and walked towards the parking lot. She wrapped her arms around my neck, swinging her little legs and humming a happy tune. She was absolutely thrilled! I briefly explained the Sterling family situation to Luna. She cocked her head, thinking it over. “It’s just dinner, right? Let’s go.” A horn sounded from behind us. I turned, quickly pulling Luna closer to the side of the road. The car drove out from inside the school. The back window was half-down, and I only saw a young man sitting in the back. “Mom, that’s our principal. The one I told you was talking to my bio-dad.” “Really?” I was a bit surprised, unconsciously glancing back, but I didn’t get a clear look at the man. Since Luna agreed to meet the Sterlings, I didn’t intentionally delay and set the dinner for the weekend. The location was the Sterling family mansion. They said it was so Luna could recognize the house and feel free to visit whenever she wanted. Jace and I had dated for a very short time, and we certainly hadn’t reached the stage of meeting parents, so this was my first time at the Sterling residence. It was in an exclusive, upscale neighborhood—a massive villa. But Luna, being only six, even with some awareness of money, saw no difference between this mansion and the big house back at our old place in the countryside. She even complained the yard wasn’t as big as ours back home, saying it wasn’t convenient for keeping a pony or a big dog. “Luna, hello there, I’m your grandpa.” “My precious granddaughter, I’m your grandma.” Arthur and Eleanor smiled with the utmost benevolence. Luna wasn’t shy at all, greeting them confidently. “Hello, Grandpa and Grandma.” “Oh, my sweet girl, you’re so adorable. Here, these are gifts from Grandpa and Grandma.” Gold bracelets, a gold necklace, a diamond tiara, and a wad of cash envelopes were all there. Luna sweetly thanked her grandparents, then, saying she was afraid of losing them, handed everything over to me. She specifically instructed me, “Mom, make sure you keep these super safe, okay? These are all Grandpa and Grandma’s love for me!” I knew she actually just found them heavy and didn’t want to wear them. “Son, after raising you for thirty years, you’ve finally done something worthwhile!” Eleanor dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief, turning to Jace. “Thank goodness you brought a granddaughter into the Sterling family, otherwise, I truly wouldn’t want you to step foot in this house again!” Jace sat isolated on a single sofa, looking like he wanted to argue but didn’t dare. He’d clearly dressed up for the occasion, his hair perfectly styled, and he was loaded with all his usual bling – earrings, a necklace, rings, the whole nine yards. But Luna often played with older folks in the neighborhood, and her style, clearly shaped by her senior citizen friends, was totally old-school. She just looked at Jace with complete disdain.

Arthur and Eleanor seemed incredibly open-minded. They didn’t demand Luna report to the Sterling house regularly, nor did they try to dictate her future plans. When they learned Luna was interested in horseback riding, they simply mentioned a friend who owned a stable and offered to take Luna there. From start to finish, they were terrified of upsetting Luna or me in the slightest. Midway through, Jace leaned over. “Hey, I think Luna still kinda dislikes me. Can you think of a way to make her like me more?” “No.” Jace’s face fell instantly. “But how did you even find out Luna was your daughter?” I asked, a bit curious. “I didn’t find out. Liam did.” Seeing my confused expression, Jace explained, “Liam’s my best friend, and he’s also Luna’s school principal.” “He accidentally stumbled upon Luna’s enrollment records and said her eyes looked a bit like mine. Then he saw her last name, and then he saw your name listed as the parent.” “Mainly, your last name is pretty unique. I’ve dated so many women, and you’re the only one with your last name. The chance of two people having the exact same name and last name is super low. Plus, Luna’s age matched perfectly, so he told me about it, and then…” “Have I met this friend of yours?” Jace changed girlfriends faster than clothes, so it was surprising this guy even remembered me. Jace thought for a moment, then pulled out his phone and opened his gallery. “Here, you two must have met, right? I’m not sure.” I leaned in. The man in the picture wore rimless glasses; he was quite handsome. But I couldn’t recall ever seeing him. The thought that all this drama was because of this guy made me etch his name into my memory. Liam Sterling! You nosy busybody!

My boyfriend was a cop fighting human trafficking, but that’s why I became a target for the traffickers’ revenge. They tortured me until I miscarried, then sold me into the remote mountains. By the time I managed to escape, I was barely alive. Only to find out my boyfriend had fallen for the female reporter covering the investigation while on his way to rescue me. They became famous for the documentary they filmed about saving me. I heard it from her own mouth: he’d missed several chances to save me because he was busy caring for her when she was “sick.” When I finally broke down, she pushed me down the stairs. I opened my eyes again, back on the day I was kidnapped. This time, it’s your turn to be in the traffickers’ den. My limbs and mouth were bound tight with sticky, yellowish-brown tape. Butch ran a grimy hand over my cheek, a sick, satisfied grin stretching his face. “Your boyfriend cost us big time! Today, I’m gonna make him taste true misery!” “We just love girls like you – soft skin, tender flesh!” Last time, I was terrified. I screamed and struggled, fighting with everything I had. Butch just knocked me out cold, afraid of drawing attention. This time, I just stared him down, my gaze ice-cold, like it came straight from hell. Butch froze for a second, then shivered. “You bitch! What the hell are you looking at? Your eyes… they’re giving me the creeps!” Spike, the driver, seemed amused. He reached back and ripped the tape from my mouth. “Not scared? Not gonna scream?” I was scared. Scared of losing the baby in my belly again. Scared of dying. But these bastards? No. Not them. Butch hated my calm. He grabbed my throat, choking me, and shoved my face against the cracked-open car window. “I want you to see! See how desperate your boyfriend looks! Go on, look!” “He’s supposed to be so good at finding people, isn’t he?! I guarantee it! He’ll never find you in this lifetime!” A short distance away, Damian was frantically pacing, phone pressed to his ear, scanning for any sign of me. “Rory! Rory! Where are you?!” My heart gave a faint tremor. Today was the day I’d planned to tell him I was pregnant. But the moment I turned to buy a bubble tea, they’d drugged me, thrown me in the car. Butch saw my blank expression, and his imagined pleasure of revenge seemed to halve. Enraged, he squeezed my throat harder, pulling out his phone to record me. “Cry! Cry for me! Stop looking so damn blank!” “Damian, you big hero! Look who it is! You’re supposed to be so good at protecting women, aren’t you? But in the end, you can’t even protect your own! What kind of man does that make you, huh?!” He sent the video, then looked expectantly at Damian, who was just a block away. I subtly bit off a button from my shirt and held it in my mouth. A block away, Damian held his breath, tapped on the video, and his eyes immediately burned red. Butch savored Damian’s fear, slapping his thigh, laughing like a maniac. I just didn’t get it. How could Damian, who supposedly loved me so much, have fallen for someone else? A flicker of desperate hope, one I shouldn’t have, ignited within me. I subtly straightened, spitting the button out the window. I was a designer; the button had a unique pattern. Damian would recognize it instantly. My heart hammered. Risking a beating that could kill me, I screamed his name, my voice almost breaking. “Damian!” Butch violently clamped his hand over my mouth and nose, grabbing my head and slamming it against the car door. “Bitch!” Across the street, a familiar figure held up her phone, pointed right at Damian. “Mr. Damian! Hi! I’m Cassidy, a reporter. Could I get an exclusive interview with you?” Damian turned towards my direction, his brow furrowed in confusion. Cassidy pouted, looking all hurt. “Please, Mr. Damian! I’m just an intern! I just need to keep my job!” Damian impatiently pushed her away. “Stay away from me!” Cassidy crumpled to the ground, crying silently, a mix of hurt and stubbornness on her face. “My leg…” Spike slammed on the gas. I watched, my heart sinking, as Damian, true to his ‘gentlemanly’ nature, bent down and picked up Cassidy. Just like in my previous life, he missed chance after chance to rescue me, all because of her.

Butch sealed my mouth shut with tape again. He stomped on my body, for no apparent reason, then spat on my face. “Goddamn, I’ve never seen a woman like you! Did you crawl out of hell?! You’re acting like you’ve died once already! Do you even wanna live?!” I subtly curled my body, protecting the baby in my womb. Spike and Butch chatted casually. Discussing how much they’d sell the video of my rape for. They planned to send copies to the police and media, to completely humiliate Damian, the ‘anti-trafficking hero.’ Damian’s own mother had been trafficked. When they found her, she’d already given birth to seven children and been sold eight times. That’s why he’d teamed up with the police to fight human trafficking organizations. These traffickers hated his guts. But if they directly retaliated against Damian, it would spark public outrage, and they’d become the police’s top targets. So I became the sacrifice. Spike exited the highway, making several turns until we were deep in the mountains. I saw the familiar hills that had trapped me in my previous life, and tears welled up. Butch sneered. “Take a good look! This is the last time you’ll see the world in this lifetime! I hate your damn eyes! Old Man Jenkins just wants a woman to pop out babies, never said she couldn’t be blind! And digging out this girl’s eyes won’t stop him from getting laid!” They tossed me into a dusty shed. They stripped me of everything, waiting for the ‘client’ to arrive. In my previous life, I lost count of how many men assaulted me. All I heard, through a haze of pain, were Butch’s shouts, “Fifty bucks a pop! College student! Buy her outright for fifty thousand! Guaranteed to give you smart, beautiful kids!” I pressed against the wall, tearing my hands free with strength that almost dislocated my wrists. Shedding my restraints, I didn’t hesitate, scrambling out of the narrow window. This place… I knew it terrifyingly well. Because I’d escaped countless times before. I scaled the dirt wall, jumped into a sandpit to cover myself in grime, but then I heard an engine roar to life. I quickly hid. Cassidy, with her wide, innocent-looking-but-actually-dumb eyes, asked an old woman sitting by the village entrance, “Have you seen a woman? Average-looking, name’s Rory!” Damian quickly pulled her back, shaking his head disapprovingly. Sure enough, the old woman’s face darkened instantly. She slammed her cane against the ground. She yelled in a hoarse voice, “Outsiders! We don’t welcome outsiders here!” Men, women, and children from the village immediately rushed out, armed with farming tools. Damian saw the situation escalating. He didn’t even have time to close the door, just swerved the car around and sped off. I cursed under my breath. This screw-up meant the traffickers would move me immediately, drastically cutting down my escape time. I plunged into the thick woods without a backward glance. Night fell, and it grew cold. But I couldn’t risk a fire. Those traffickers were like bloodhounds; any anomaly, they’d sniff it out. I huddled in my clothes, bracing against the biting wind, perched in a tree. Suddenly, the crisp snap of a branch broke the night’s silence. My eyes snapped open. A hunched figure was cautiously peering around at the base of the tree. Adrenaline surged. I grabbed the iron bar I’d found and, without hesitation, leaped onto the figure, ready to strike. “No! Rory!” A dry hand clamped onto my wrist, where my skin was already tearing.

Damian was practically weeping with relief, holding me in a death grip. “Rory! I thought I’d lost you! Those bastards! I swear, I will make them pay for this!” “You’re so smart! I found the button you left, that’s how I quickly tracked down the car from the security footage!” Cassidy rubbed her sore shoulder, biting her lip in jealousy. Damian’s sudden affection threw me off. Had this second chance meant he hadn’t cheated? Hadn’t fallen for Cassidy this time? Or had he just not had the chance to abandon me yet? “Ow… my leg!” The instant Cassidy cried out, Damian let go of me, rushing to her side without a backward glance. The cold wind wrapped around me again, mocking my foolish hope. Cassidy practically lunged into Damian’s arms, “Mr. Damian, I don’t blame Rory! I’m a woman too! Who knows what terrible things she went through with those traffickers… I just got a little scrape because of her, but Rory, well, she lost her purity!” Damian’s hand, still on Cassidy’s swollen ankle, froze. His expression darkened. I gave a self-deprecating laugh, finding the whole scene utterly ironic. Damian had helped the police rescue many women and children. Almost every one carried psychological scars from violent assault. He always offered countless words of comfort, but deep down, I knew he minded it all. He minded the ‘damage.’ Or perhaps he only minded it if it happened to me? I touched my stomach, a cold sneer on my face. Cassidy wept weakly, “Mr. Damian, I’m so cold. Are we… are we not going to make it out of here?” Thanks to Cassidy’s idiotic move, Damian’s car tires were shredded by a spike strip, forcing them to go on foot. “My dream is to make a documentary, expose those traffickers’ vile deeds, protect more women and children… But I… I really don’t want to die here! Waaah!” “Don’t be scared! You’ll be fine! I brought you here, and I’ll make sure I get you back safe and sound!” Damian had rushed out, only wearing a thin T-shirt. He turned his gaze to me. “Rory, give your jacket to Cassidy.” I savored the nickname ‘Cassidy’ on his lips, a bitter taste. Here I was, just escaped from hell, and Damian offered no comfort, no hug. Instead, he wanted me to give my jacket to someone else. Zzzip— I zipped my jacket all the way up, hugging myself, my face a mask of refusal. Damian’s brows furrowed. “Rory, why are you being so cold? Cassidy wanted to come help rescue you! She’s just a kid, we have a duty to protect her!” Right, a ‘kid.’ I also had a duty to protect my child. “How much longer until the cops arrive?” My change of subject caught Damian off guard. “Our phones got left in the car, but they must know our movements!” I couldn’t help but laugh out loud, a bitter, sarcastic sound. In the middle of the night, Cassidy got a fever again, and Damian held her all night. Day broke. Damian and I went ahead to scout. On the way back, I reached out to brush a bug off his shoulder. He sharply recoiled, disgust blazing in his eyes. Realizing his reaction, his lips twitched uneasily. “Rory, I think you’re being too harsh on Cassidy. I hope you can apologize to her.” I scoffed, ignoring him completely. But the moment I saw Cassidy hiding behind a tree, I snapped. “Are you insane?!” I kicked her.

The small fire and the snacks Cassidy was holding were instantly crushed under my foot. “If you want us dead, just say so!” Cassidy burst into tears. Damian, furious, splashed the water he’d just collected all over me. He rushed to hug Cassidy, his eyes filled with tender concern. “Cassidy, are you okay?!” Cassidy’s body trembled as she sobbed pitifully, “I… I was just worried about you, Mr. Damian, after you stayed up all night… I just wanted to make you something warm to eat, and that was my last bit of jerky! I’m so sorry! I’m so stupid!” Damian understood her ‘good intentions,’ his eyes flashing with tenderness. He turned to me, scolding me sternly, “Rory, you just ruined our only food. We might be stuck here for days now!” Suddenly, faint barks echoed from deeper within the woods. Damian and I exchanged a worried glance. He hoisted Cassidy onto his back without hesitation. But the woods were more treacherous than we imagined. Even though I’d been here before, the danger still sent shivers down my spine. Cassidy clung sweetly to Damian’s back, wiping his sweat and glaring at me with a triumphant smirk. She sweetly demanded an exclusive interview with him once they were out, and Damian chuckled, indulging her as he agreed. As if he’d completely forgotten I was even there. “Actually, my leg was hurt because of Mr. Damian, but now that he’s rescued me, according to those old myths, shouldn’t I… offer myself to him?” Damian subconsciously glanced at me. Cassidy bit her lip in frustration, her words dripping with venom, “Rory, your stare is kinda scary. Just kidding! I just admire Mr. Damian, that’s all. Were you stopping him from interviews before because you were afraid someone would fall for him? Well, you can’t stop me!” “But I am a little curious, Rory, how do you know this terrain so well? Could it be that you…” Damian caught on, giving me a suspicious look. “Watch out!” Damian, still carrying Cassidy, frantically looked at me, his legs sinking deep, “Rory! It’s quicksand!” Cassidy shrieked in terror, struggling desperately to get out, which only made both her and Damian sink deeper. I slapped her hard across the face, “Shut up! Quiet!” I took a deep breath. I couldn’t just stand there and let them die. Grabbing a thick, dry branch, I pulled Damian out first. The moment Cassidy stepped onto solid ground, she shoved me violently into the quicksand, a twisted smile on her face as she shrieked, “Ah! Mr. Damian! Rory accidentally fell in!” Suddenly, birds scattered, and the roar of dirt bikes echoed through the hills. “They’re here!” “Mr. Damian! We need to run! We’re out of time if we don’t go now!” I sank deeper, my eyes burning red, “Damian! Help me!” Damian’s lips trembled, his brows knotted, cold sweat beaded on his forehead. He let out a heavy sigh, finally speaking, “Rory, they want you. I can’t risk Cassidy too; she doesn’t owe us anything!” “Wait for me, I’ll come back for you!” Cassidy hopped onto Damian’s back, a radiant smile on her face, “Rory is so resourceful, she’ll definitely escape again! She doesn’t need anyone to save her!” The despair wasn’t a sharp stab, but a dull ache that spread through my entire body, slowly flaying me of all flesh. In my previous life, after I escaped, I still couldn’t believe Damian had truly given up looking for me. I foolishly showed up at their wedding to confront them. Cassidy’s family beat me up and threw me out. “You’re probably riddled with AIDS and syphilis! What man would want you?! Leave our Damian alone! He’s been more than decent to you! Don’t you dare disrespect him! Know your place, you bitch!” I thought of the baby in my belly, gritting my teeth, my bloodied fingernails digging into the earth. But the traffickers arrived too quickly, cornering them right there in the quicksand. “Damian! Hand over your woman! If you want to leave, you’ll have to pay a ‘price,’ won’t you?!” Cassidy shrieked in terror, “Rory’s right here! She can’t run!” Butch just shook his head, smiling.

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From the moment I could remember, I knew my family was struggling. So when I suspected I had a serious illness, my first reaction wasn’t fear. Instead, I carefully asked Mom and Dad, “What if… what if I have cancer?” They chuckled, dismissing it as my wild imagination, yet their voices were firm. “If that day ever comes, we’ll sacrifice everything to get you cured.” I tossed and turned all night, finally making up my mind—I couldn’t be a burden to them. But as I swallowed an entire bottle of sleeping pills, I saw them laughing and chatting in their luxurious downtown mansion. In that instant, it all clicked. All these years, the “hard life” that forced me to be desperately “sensible” was nothing more than an elaborate act they had meticulously staged. They were just pretending to be poor. And I, I was truly dead… During a break between classes, my nose suddenly started bleeding. It took half a pack of tissues to finally stop it. Chloe, my deskmate, looked at my pale face and whispered, “My neighbor’s brother used to get nosebleeds like that. Turned out to be leukemia… His family spent all their money, but they still couldn’t save him…” I forced a smile, calling her a “jinx,” but my heart sank with a chilling thump. Lately, I’d been constantly exhausted. I’d be out of breath after just two steps in PE, and I had a bruise on my knee that appeared out of nowhere and wouldn’t go away. I desperately tried to tell myself not to overthink it, not to needlessly worry my parents, but the fear deep inside me was growing like wildfire. What if… what if it was real? I secretly went to the community clinic and had my blood drawn. The doctor’s face grew serious after reviewing the lab results. He couldn’t rule out a malignant blood disorder and urged me to get a comprehensive check-up at a larger hospital as soon as possible. My heart plummeted to the bottom. Clutching that flimsy lab report, my steps felt weightless, and I couldn’t even remember how I staggered back home. Mom, wearing a faded apron, was busy in the kitchen. Hearing the noise at the door, she called out, “Go wash your hands quickly! I made your favorite pizza today.” I frantically crumpled the lab report into a ball and shoved it deep into my backpack. A little later, Dad also came home. He looked utterly exhausted, taking off his old, threadbare jacket with frayed cuffs and slinging it over the back of a chair, letting out a long sigh. Mom brought the dishes to the table. A plate of salad, a pizza, and some roasted chicken – it was a rare feast. Dad ate quickly and hungrily, as if he hadn’t eaten in days. Mom ate while grumbling that pork prices had gone up again. I picked at my food, small bites, tasting nothing. The doctor’s words echoed in my mind, refusing to fade. “Dad, Mom…” I quietly called out to them, putting down my knife and fork. They both looked up. “What if… what if I get a very serious illness,” I stared at the food on the table, not daring to meet their eyes, “like cancer… what then?” The dining table fell silent. Dad’s hand, holding a forkful of food, froze in mid-air. Mom’s spoon “clinked” against the rim of her bowl. “What nonsense are you talking?!” Mom was the first to react, her brows tightly furrowed. “Children shouldn’t say such unlucky things!” “I mean, if… what if it happens?” I pressed on relentlessly, my eyes starting to sting. Dad put down his fork, his rough hand ruffling my hair. “Luna, don’t overthink things. Your job right now is to study hard. If that day ever truly comes…” He paused, then continued, “Don’t worry, Dad will sell everything we own, even bankrupt ourselves, to cure you.” Mom quickly nodded in agreement. “Yes, we’ll lose everything to cure you! Now eat, the food’s getting cold.” After they spoke, it was as if the topic was closed. Dad resumed eating, and Mom put a piece of egg on my plate. “Eat more, you need to grow.” I listened to their words, looking at their faded, old clothes and the simple meal on the table. “Sell everything we own…” “Lose everything…” I slowly picked up my forks, lowered my head, burying my face in my bowl. Tears suddenly welled up, dripping into my food. I quickly scooped a large mouthful of rice, swallowing it with my tears.

From the moment I could remember, I knew my family was struggling. The house we lived in was dilapidated, with peeling paint on the walls. Whenever it rained, the corners would leak, and fuzzy mold spots would grow. There wasn’t a single new piece of clothing in my closet; everything was hand-me-downs from my sister. The cuffs were shiny from wear, the colors faded from countless washes, but Mom always said they were still good and shouldn’t be wasted. She’d often stroke my head and sigh, “Your dad and I work tirelessly from dawn till dusk at our stand; every penny we earn is hard-won. So you need to be more sensible than others, okay?” Dad would also look at me with a serious expression. “You need to make us proud, study hard, so you can make all of Mom’s and my sacrifices worthwhile.” I clutched the frayed hem of my shirt, nodding firmly. Life was always tight. I never had pocket money. When my classmates bought snacks, stickers, or colorful pens, I’d just watch from the side. When they talked about eating pizza or going to the amusement park on weekends, I couldn’t join in, so I’d just lower my head and stay silent. When I was hungry, I’d chug hot water. My stomach would feel heavy and warm, and it wouldn’t feel so empty anymore. If I felt unwell, I never said anything, just endured it myself. Last winter, I coughed for a whole month. At night, I’d cover my mouth to avoid disturbing my parents, coughing until tears streamed down my face, but the next day, I’d still pack my backpack and go to school as usual. Mom and Dad always praised me, “Our Luna is the most sensible child.” Listening to those words, I couldn’t quite describe the taste in my mouth. Actually, I wanted to tell them things too. To say how itchy my throat felt, or that my sister’s old school bag was so worn out the strap was about to break. To say I also wished for a small slice of cream cake on my birthday. But I was scared. Scared that if I mentioned needing money, Mom and Dad would become even more tired. I was afraid to see the troubled look in their eyes, afraid to hear their sighs, afraid that my small wishes would become the final straw that broke them. At night, I lay in bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. In the darkness, my eyes wide open, the doctor’s grave face and my parents’ words about “losing everything” echoed repeatedly in my mind. As dawn approached, I finally made up my mind. If curing me meant completely ruining this family, pushing them to desperation, I would rather… rather disappear myself. Faint sounds came from outside the door; Mom and Dad were getting up. A moment later, Mom gently pushed the door open. “Luna, your dad and I are heading to the stand. Dinner’s warming in the pot; eat it before you go to school.” I lay in bed, murmuring a low “Mhm,” my eyes tightly shut, not daring to look at her. The door was gently pulled shut, and their footsteps gradually faded away. The house was terribly quiet, with only the sound of my own heartbeat. I slowly sat up, pulled out paper and a pen from my backpack, and carefully, meticulously wrote a letter to Mom and Dad. After finishing, I carefully folded it and tucked it under my pillow. I walked to the old cabinet, knelt down, and pulled open the bottom drawer. It was messy inside. I rummaged for a while before finding a small, yellowed pill bottle. I remembered Mom taking these when she couldn’t sleep when I was younger. Back then, she’d hidden the bottle carefully, stroking my head and earnestly warning me, “Luna, children absolutely must not touch these pills. If you take them… you’ll leave Mom and Dad forever.” I always remembered those words. Now that I was older, I knew “leaving forever” meant dying. If I died, they would be free. I went to the kitchen, poured a glass of water, then returned to my bed and sat down. Twisting open the cap, I poured all the white pills into my palm. Looking at those tiny pills, Mom and Dad’s smiling faces suddenly appeared before my eyes. My nose stung, and tears splattered onto the back of my hand. Suddenly, I felt a little scared, and a little reluctant. But their smiles quickly faded, replaced by their perpetually tired faces from working day and night. I closed my eyes and told myself— I couldn’t be so selfish. Leaving was the last sensible thing I could do for them. I took a deep breath, shoved all the pills into my mouth, and gulped them down with the cold water. It was a little bitter, but soon, I felt nothing. I placed the empty bottle by my pillow, lay down, and pulled the covers over me. That heavy feeling in my heart seemed to vanish completely. The light outside the window grew brighter, and birds began to chirp. I closed my eyes, feeling so tired, wishing for a deep, peaceful sleep.

After a while, I seemed to “wake up” again, my body as light as a feather. Looking down, I saw another me lying peacefully on the bed, her face calm, as if she were just sleeping. Was I… already dead? But where was I supposed to go next? I didn’t know. I suddenly remembered Scarlett, my sister. The last time I saw her was during the holidays; she only stayed home for three days before rushing off. Yesterday, when I called her, I had barely said a few words before I heard a commotion on her end. Before I could finish, she abruptly hung up. Before I left, I wanted to see her one last time. As the thought formed, my surroundings blurred, and I found myself standing outside a bright coffee shop. Through the floor-to-ceiling window, I saw Scarlett laughing and chatting with a few friends. She wore a beautiful floral dress, her hair impeccably styled, a delicate cake sat before her, and her smile was radiant. My gaze fell on the brand-new designer bag beside her. I’d seen that brand at the mall and secretly counted the zeros on its price tag. But how could Scarlett… I leaned closer to get a better look when her phone suddenly rang, startling me. She walked to a quiet corner to take the call, and I followed. “Mom?” Her voice was cheerful. “Why are you calling at this hour?” Mom’s voice came clearly from the other end. “Has your sister contacted you recently? I feel like she’s been a little off these past two days…” “Oh, she called yesterday,” Scarlett’s tone was casual. “Said she wanted to buy some study guides and asked to borrow a hundred bucks.” “Study guides?” Mom’s voice sharpened abruptly, with unconcealed displeasure. “What books can’t she just tell us about? That child… I wonder what she’s really up to.” I instinctively lowered my gaze, a bitter ache in my heart. Actually… it was because I couldn’t afford the hospital check-up, so I was forced to lie to Scarlett. “Don’t worry, I didn’t give it to her.” Scarlett gave a sly smile. “I pretended I was swamped and hung up after a couple of sentences. Told her to ask you guys.” “Smart girl!” Mom’s tone immediately became serious, with a hint of warning. “Remember, absolutely do not give her money behind our backs. If I find out, you can forget about your family allowance! But speaking of which, you’re working now, you should learn to be independent…” “Oh, Mom—” Scarlett whined, drawing out her words playfully. “I won’t give it to her, alright? My salary barely covers rent, how am I supposed to buy things without the family allowance…” “Alright, alright.” Mom sighed helplessly, her voice softening. “Just be clever around your sister, and whatever you do, don’t give away the secret. That child is very perceptive; if she finds out, it’ll be a huge mess.” “Got it, thanks, Mom!” Scarlett grinned, hanging up the phone, then turned back to her friends, laughing as she chatted about a concert that weekend. My heart, however, was in turmoil. They were clearly hiding something from me. A thought flashed, and the scene before me instantly changed. The spacious living room was blindingly bright, the polished floor reflecting the fragmented light of a crystal chandelier, and a huge floor-to-ceiling window offered a panoramic view of the entire city. Where was this? How did I end up here? I looked around blankly, then saw a woman comfortably reclined in a massage chair, fiddling with a brand-new foldable phone. A man walked over, carrying two glasses of freshly squeezed juice, dressed in comfortable loungewear. I stared at their faces, and my mind exploded with a buzzing sound—wasn’t this my Mom and Dad? At this hour, shouldn’t they be at their market stand, busy beyond words? “Scarlett has always gotten everything she wanted since she was little, spoiled by us. Her mind was never on the right track. Now, Luna is also getting rebellious…” Mom complained, frowning. “She actually called her sister to ask for money, saying she wanted to buy some study guides. She didn’t even dare to ask us directly, she must be lying, afraid we’d expose her!” Dad set down the juice, comforting her. “Luna has always been sensible enough. Maybe she genuinely wanted something to buy; a small lie is understandable. Under our watchful eyes, nothing major can go wrong.” “That’s true,” Mom massaged her own shoulders. “It’s just that we have to go back to that dilapidated house for this act; it’s truly uncomfortable…” “For Luna’s future, let’s just keep going a little longer,” Dad stepped forward, massaging her shoulders, his voice gentle. “Once she gets into a good university, we’ll tell her the truth. She’ll be so happy.” Mom sighed heavily. “I hope so… As long as she doesn’t betray our hard work and good intentions, all this suffering will be worth it…” “You’re working so hard, my dear wife! I’ll cook dinner myself later, make you a few of your favorite dishes to reward you properly.” Dad dotingly offered the juice, and both of them smiled widely. Every single word pierced my ears, yet it carried an indescribable eeriness that I couldn’t process for a while. It was a long time before I slowly came back to myself. So, they were pretending to be poor. But I, I was truly dead…

I floated in the center of the opulent living room, staring blankly at them, my heart aching faintly, as if something was gently squeezing it. So all that tireless exhaustion, all that hardship of struggling for a living, had been nothing but an act they performed. And all the suffering I’d endured since childhood was just a calculated ploy, “for my own good.” In a daze, I remembered the designer belt I’d found under Dad’s bed, which he’d hastily snatched away and hidden, claiming it was a high-quality replica from a street vendor. I remembered the expensive face cream I’d seen behind Mom’s vanity mirror, which she’d said was a trial sample from a friend, not worth much. I remembered the large, floor-to-ceiling window that flashed by in the background during a video call with Scarlett; I’d asked if she’d moved into a bigger house, but she’d laughed it off, saying it was a colleague’s place and she was just visiting. It turned out that all those moments that had subtly felt off were clues to this elaborate deception. In this family, only I was like a fool, kept in the dark, living out their fabricated poor life, treading carefully. That sadness swelled like a tide, then slowly receded. What’s done is done. A stubborn illness like leukemia, perhaps even if they spent all their money, it wouldn’t be curable. Then, they truly would be forced to live that precarious, poverty-stricken life. At least now, they didn’t have to genuinely work tirelessly at a market stand, didn’t have to haggle over pennies. They lived so decently and comfortably, not struggling at all. I had nothing left to worry about. Thinking this, my heart felt much more at peace, and I began to float around the bright, large house with curiosity. Soft carpets, a huge balcony, all sorts of high-end appliances—things I’d only ever seen on TV. I floated into a room. The vanity was covered with bottles and jars, the closet door half-open, revealing racks of beautiful clothes. I recognized it at a glance; this was Scarlett’s room, as it was often in the background of her video calls. Then, I discovered another room. The walls were a soft pink, the curtains white with lace trim, and the bed was covered with a floral-patterned sheet. On the bedside table, there was a photo frame. The photo was of me, perhaps seven or eight years old, wearing that red plaid jacket my sister had passed down, smiling shyly at the camera. This room… it was prepared for me. My heart felt gently warmed by something. I lay on that floral-patterned bed. Although I couldn’t feel its softness, I imagined that if I could sleep here, it would be as comfortable as lying on a cloud. Sunlight streamed through the window, bathing the entire pink room in warmth. I lay there, watching, and my heart grew sad again. I knew I would never get to live in this perfect room, prepared just for me. Time passed, bit by bit. Suddenly, a phone rang in the room—Mom’s old phone. I floated over to see. The screen displayed “Ms. Davis,” my homeroom teacher’s name. Mom took a deep breath, answered the phone, and her voice instantly switched to that familiar, weary tone. “Hello, Ms. Davis? Oh, yes, I’m busy at the stand. What’s up?” Ms. Davis’s anxious voice faintly carried from the other end. “Luna’s mom, I’ve called several times! I’m glad you finally picked up!” “Oh dear, I’m so sorry,” Mom’s voice dropped a bit lower, with just the right amount of apology. “This old phone always runs out of battery; I just turned it on. Is there something happening at school?” “Luna didn’t come to school today and didn’t ask any teacher for leave. Is she home now? Is she feeling unwell?” Mom’s grip on the phone visibly tightened. A flicker of surprise crossed her face, and her voice involuntarily rose. “What? Luna didn’t go to school today?”

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My sister was back in the hospital. This time, because I opened a window to let in some fresh air. Mom yelled at me outside her room: “We never should’ve brought you back! Your grandma didn’t teach you right, coming back just to bully your sister! If Chloe gets sick, you won’t live either!” Deep in the night, the house fell silent. A man dressed in black appeared, phasing right through the wall, heading straight for my sister’s bed. “Chloe Johnson, it’s your time. Come with me.” Chloe was sound asleep, but I was wide awake. I scrambled up from my spot on the floor, blocking his path to her bed. “You’ve got the wrong person. The one in bed is my older sister. I’m Chloe Johnson.” I glanced back at Mom, who was still asleep, a frown etched on her face even in her dreams. Maybe she’d be happier without me. I looked at the man in black. “I’ll go with you. But can you give me three days? I want to celebrate Mom’s birthday.” The man in black paused. “You’re willing to die in your sister’s place?” I didn’t hesitate, nodding hard. I looked back at Chloe in the hospital bed. Her face looked a little rosier, and even in her sleep, a faint smile touched her lips. Mom had told her three fairy tales before bedtime. As for me, I was curled up on the cold floor, not even daring to pull a corner of the blanket closer. “I’m willing. Anything to stop Mom from crying. Just three days. I just want to celebrate Mom’s birthday.” The man in black was silent for a long time before he spoke: “I agree.” With that, his figure vanished into the wall. I touched my wrist. A faint purple mark glowed there, slowly burning. This was my life’s countdown. I should have been terrified. But for some reason, a sudden sense of peace washed over me. Grandma Evelyn used to say that when people die, they turn into stars, watching over the ones they love most. If I became a star, would I finally see Mom smile at me? Just once would be enough. The sky was just beginning to lighten when a violent cough woke me up. I tried to get up, but my head spun, my vision blurred, and my forehead was burning hot. “What’s with all the coughing?” Mom stood over me, draped in her jacket, her face etched with irritation. “If you wake Chloe, I swear I’ll tear your mouth off!” Terrified, I clapped my hand over my mouth, forcing down the remaining coughs. Tears stung my eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” Mom scoffed, her eyes full of disgust. “Get up already! Chloe will be awake soon and she’ll want pumpkin soup. Go make it now.” She turned and sat back by the hospital bed, her movements becoming incredibly gentle as she dabbed Chloe’s forehead with a wet cloth. I pushed myself up from the floor, swaying unsteadily. My knees ached like they were being pricked with needles from kneeling so long last night. I didn’t dare say I had a fever too. Last time I said my head hurt, Mom said I was faking it to avoid chores. If I said it again, she’d definitely get even angrier. I patted my pocket. There was a small, heavy coin bank inside. I’d been saving coins for a whole year since I came back from Grandma Evelyn’s, planning to buy a new backpack. My current backpack strap was broken, held together with a safety pin, and the kids at school always made fun of me. But it didn’t matter now. I wouldn’t need a backpack anymore anyway. I was going to use that money to buy Mom a birthday cake. Before, whenever Mom had a birthday, it was always Chloe who cut the cake, and the wishes were always for Chloe. I wanted Mom to make a wish for me too. Even if it was just an afterthought. Clutching the coin bank, I slowly shuffled out of the room. The hospital hallway felt so cold, chilling me to the bone. But as I looked at the purple mark on my wrist, a faint smile tugged at my lips. Three more days. I had to make them count.

Hospital elevators always took forever. Fearing the soup would get cold, I ran up the stairs instead. Nineteen floors. On each landing, I had to stop and gasp for breath, my lungs burning. Pushing open the door to the room, Dad was already there. He held a pink bag with the logo of the latest tablet on it. Chloe was propped up in bed, giggling uncontrollably, clutching the tablet. “Thank you, Dad! I love you the most!” Dad’s face was full of doting affection as he gently booped her nose. “As long as Chloe’s happy, and she gets well faster, it’s worth whatever I buy.” Mom was applying hand cream nearby. A warm, comforting scent filled the room – the smell of home. Only I felt out of place. I stood there awkwardly, clutching the now slightly cool soup. “You’re back?” Dad glanced at me, his smile fading a bit. He casually pulled a stale roll from a bag at his feet and tossed it to me. “Haven’t eaten yet, have you?” The roll was hard, hitting my chest with a dull thud that stung. I looked down. It was the cheapest kind, with a bright yellow discount label on the packaging. Close-to-expiration discount. On Chloe’s bedside table, there was exquisite Tiramisu and imported milk. Chloe and I were twins. She’d been frail since birth, so it was always taken for granted that all the family’s resources went to her first. Including Mom and Dad’s love. “Thanks, Dad.” I whispered, bending down to pick up the roll. It was good enough to have food to eat. Grandma Evelyn always said to be grateful for what you have. “Dad.” Chloe suddenly put down her tablet and pouted. “I want a cake from that bakery down the street. My mouth feels bitter.” Outside, the sky was dark and gloomy, and rain was pouring down. Dad looked out the window, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. “Chloe, it’s raining too hard. What if we wait until it stops?” Chloe’s eyes immediately welled up. “No way! I want it now! *cough, cough, cough*…” The moment she coughed, everyone panicked. Mom quickly patted her back, and Dad paced nervously. “Okay, okay, okay! Eat, eat, eat! Dad will go buy it right now!” Dad reached for an umbrella, but his gaze fell on me in the corner, and he froze. “Lily.” Dad called my name. “Your sister wants cake. Go buy it.” “Your mom and I need to stay with Chloe. You’re young and fast, a quick run won’t hurt.” I froze for a moment, wanting to say I wasn’t feeling well, wanting to say the rain was too heavy. But seeing the look in Dad’s eyes, all my words caught in my throat. “Okay.” I set down the roll I’d just bitten into and walked out into the rain. I didn’t have an umbrella. The only umbrella was by the door, but Dad hadn’t told me to take it. And I didn’t dare. The rain lashed down, making my head spin even more, the ground swaying beneath my feet. But I couldn’t stop. I was afraid the bakery would close, afraid Mom would scold me for being useless. The bakery down the street was three blocks from the hospital. The water was above my ankles, my shoes filled with muddy water. When I bought the cake, the owner, Mrs. Thompson, looked at me like I was crazy. “Little girl, no umbrella in this heavy rain? Where are your parents?” I forced a smile, but said nothing. I clutched the cake to my chest, shielding it from the rain with my body. On the way back, I ran too fast. I slipped in a puddle, my knee hitting the pavement hard. I anxiously checked the cake in my arms. Thankfully, the paper bag wasn’t torn, and the cake was fine. I breathed a sigh of relief, limping my way back. When I returned to the room, I was dripping wet. “What took you so long!” Mom hissed, keeping her voice low. “Walking so loudly! Chloe just fell asleep!” My hands, holding the cake, froze mid-air. Dad sat on the sofa, scrolling on his phone, not even looking at me. “Put it on the table. You’re soaking wet. Go dry off, don’t get Chloe sick.” No one saw my bleeding knee. No one asked if I was cold. I quietly left the room, huddling on a chair in the hallway, staring at the cake abandoned on the table. Chloe wouldn’t eat it when she woke up. The thing I’d risked my life to get would probably end up in the trash. Late at night, I looked at the mark on my wrist. A third of it was already burned away.

The third day was Mom’s birthday. My fever had gone down a bit, but my head still swam. The purple mark on my wrist was just a tiny sliver now. I went to the nurse’s station, pleading for a long time before Nurse Jenkins finally agreed to let me use the small staff kitchen for an hour. “Little girl, you look so pale, you should rest.” Nurse Jenkins gently touched my head, her eyes full of concern. I flinched away. I wasn’t used to anyone’s touch, even a kind one. “Thank you, Nurse. I want to cook Mom a meal.” “It’s her birthday today.” With all my remaining change, I bought groceries at the market. All Mom’s favorites. Grandma Evelyn taught me that the way to a person’s heart is through their stomach. I couldn’t win Mom’s heart. But I still wanted to try. The cooking smoke in the kitchen made me cough, and my hands trembled so much while chopping, I almost cut my fingers. But I cooked with extra care. Every step was meticulous. After the meal was ready, I packed the dishes into insulated containers and carried them back to the room. As I walked in, I saw Chloe leaning over the edge of the bed, trying to reach a water glass on the table. I quickly put down the containers. “Don’t move. I’ll pour it for you.” I carefully handed her the hot water. Weak from her illness, her fingers went limp, and she couldn’t hold it steady. “Ow!” The scalding hot water spilled, splashing all over my foot. Before I could even cry out, Chloe screamed first. “It’s hot! It’s so hot!” She instinctively clutched her hand, tears streaming down her face, even though not a single drop of hot water had splashed on her. This fragile, pitiful act was her most practiced weapon since childhood. The room door was suddenly flung open. “What happened?” Dad rushed in, saw Chloe crying, and the shattered ceramic pieces on the floor. Without thinking, he turned and gave me a powerful shove. “Your sister is already so sick, and you’re making her do chores?” The push was so forceful that I stumbled backward, falling heavily onto the scattered ceramic shards. A sharp, piercing pain shot through my palm, and blood gushed out, mixing with the hot water on the floor, a horrifying sight. “No, it’s not…” I opened my mouth, trying to explain. Chloe herself hadn’t held it steady, she asked me to pour the water. I hadn’t meant to burn her. But my throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton, unable to form a complete sound. Grandma Evelyn used to say, explaining is talking back. Kids who talk back aren’t loved. I looked at Dad’s furious red eyes, watched him carefully cup Chloe’s uninjured hand and blow on it. Something inside me shattered completely. “I’m sorry.” I lowered my head, my tears splattering into the pool of blood. “I didn’t hold it steady. It was my fault.” If I just admitted fault, this storm would pass, right? If I didn’t argue, Mom’s birthday wouldn’t be ruined, right? Sure enough, hearing me admit fault, Dad’s anger subsided slightly. “Get out of the way, don’t be an eyesore!” Enduring the sharp pain in my hand, I quietly got up and carefully picked up every piece of the shattered ceramic. Then I brought out the insulated containers. “Mom, these are the dishes I made. Happy Birthday.” Mom had just walked in. Seeing the scene, she frowned. But upon seeing the table full of dishes, her expression softened a bit. She didn’t scold me. During dinner, Chloe kept chattering to Mom. I sat in the corner, eating my cold, plain rice. Suddenly, a pork chop landed in my bowl. Mom had put it there. “Alright, stop looking so gloomy.” “It’s a good day today, you eat more too.” “This pork chop is pretty good, it reminds me of your Grandma Evelyn’s cooking.” Tears instantly streamed down my face. It was the first time Mom had ever praised me. I put the pork chop in my mouth. It was so salty, tasting entirely of tears. But I chewed it carefully, not even wanting to spit out the bone. This was probably the best thing I had ever eaten in my life. And it would be the last.

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Bruce ran out on our wedding—again—for his childhood friend, Claire. It was the seventh time. Grandpa Sterling handed me ten million dollars as an apology. But Bruce just sneered, “Grandpa, she’s not worth that much. You should invest that money in Claire’s gallery instead.” Grandpa Sterling looked at me, an awkward apology in his eyes. I wasn’t angry, though. Not one bit. I’d accepted that kind of compensation six times already. This time, I wanted something new. I pointed to Kevin, Bruce’s half-brother, the one Bruce hated most. “Give him to me instead. I’ll marry him!” Bruce probably forgot. Only the man married to me has the right to become the heir of the Sterling Group. Everyone was stunned, seeing I wasn’t joking. After all, this wasn’t Bruce’s first time ditching the wedding. Before, headlines screaming “Heiress Abandons Groom at Altar” had swept the trending topics, making my family, the Chengs, a laughingstock for half a year. Even then, I never suggested calling off the engagement. Grandpa Sterling rushed to soothe me. “Bruce is just confused right now. Please, just wait a little longer…” He called Bruce again. But before he could say much, Bruce cut him off. “Come on, Grandpa, stop trying to trick me. Aurora wouldn’t say she won’t marry me, no matter how angry she gets. Besides, I’m not breaking up with her. I’m just taking Claire out to relax, then I’ll be back.” Claire’s sugary voice chirped from nearby. “Bruce, I’m just helping you test her! If she’s willing to marry you after being ditched so many times, *that* will prove her love for you is real!” Listening to their blatant flirting, I forced a smile. “Are you really that confident I’ll wait forever?” Bruce seemed surprised to hear my voice. His tone faltered. When he spoke again, his voice softened. “Aurora, you know how Claire is. She’s always depended on me since childhood. She just can’t accept me getting married right now. Can we postpone the wedding again? Please? Once I’ve smoothed things over with her, we’ll reschedule.” Postponed six times. Wasn’t that enough? When Claire found out about Bruce and me, she immediately flew back and caused a huge scene. Bruce, stone-faced, told me right to my face that he only saw her as a sister. But later, for this “sister,” he turned me into the laughingstock of the entire city. Grandpa Sterling was furious. “The wedding starts in three hours! I’ve booked your flight; get your butt back here now! There are so many reporters outside, waiting for a show. Have you even considered Aurora’s situation?!” “I…” Bruce’s voice held obvious hesitation. My heart involuntarily trembled. But the next second, Claire clung to him, whining. “Bruce, the movie tickets are already bought! If you leave, I’ll just have some other guy watch it with me. After all, so many guys are chasing me!” “No way!” Bruce’s voice was laced with an angry impatience. When he spoke to me again, his words were full of helplessness. “Aurora, I really can’t get away right now. You’ve handled this kind of thing many times before, it’s nothing you can’t manage.” He said it so casually, as if the humiliation and mockery I suffered in front of the cameras were trivial, insignificant matters. A suffocating, dull ache pulsed in my chest, and I couldn’t help but let out a bitter laugh. “Whatever.” Whether he came back or not, it no longer mattered. In his rush to be with Claire, Bruce didn’t catch the shift in my mood. “Good girl, don’t be mad. I even brought you a gift.” A photo popped up on my phone. A necklace, dangling from his fingers. Another one Claire had worn. My place, it seemed, had become her trash bin. I remembered the first gift Bruce ever gave me: a red ladies’ watch. Even though red was my least favorite color, I treasured it because it came from him. Until one day, I took it for repair and, through its serial number, discovered its previous owner was Claire. When I confronted him, Bruce showed no hint of guilt. “I’m terrible at picking gifts. Claire just helped me out. Don’t be so petty.” He claimed he couldn’t pick gifts, but everyone in the city knew. Every year on Claire’s birthday, Bruce would reserve the most expensive viewpoint, setting off magnificent fireworks visible across the entire city just for her. Jewelry typically found only in auction houses would flow like water before Claire, for her to pick and choose. The effort he put into me was less than one ten-thousandth of what he spent on Claire. Even now, he couldn’t be bothered to buy something new just to placate me. Claire, seemingly oblivious to the sarcasm in my voice, giggled. “Bruce’s gift to you? I picked it out, you know. Do you like it?”

Claire smiled triumphantly, urging Bruce to hang up. Grandpa Sterling looked ashamed. He couldn’t bring himself to persuade me to keep waiting for Bruce to come around. “Are you sure you want Kevin? His background…” I cut him off, looking directly into the intense, unspoken depths of Kevin’s eyes. Taking a deep breath. “I choose him.” My mom once mentioned she’d seen Kevin at an exclusive private auction. This illegitimate son was far more complex than Grandpa Sterling imagined. Love and leverage. I had to secure at least one. A new groom’s suit needed to be made, so Kevin and my wedding was set for a week later. Grandpa Sterling looked at me with complex emotions, letting out a long sigh. “On your wedding day, I’ll announce the change of the Sterling family heir.” With a new groom, other things naturally needed changing too. When I went to the jewelry store to pick new wedding rings, I unexpectedly ran into Bruce and Claire, who had just returned. Our eyes met, and the expression on Bruce’s face grew cold. “Aurora Cheng, you’ve really got guts. You actually managed to convince Grandpa to cut off my cards.” “I hate being forced to do things. Don’t think that just because I’m back, I’ll marry you.” A flicker of annoyance crossed his eyes. “Did you intentionally track my movements and come here to corner me?” Claire nudged him, pouting playfully. “She’s completely infatuated with you, Bruce! What kind of attitude is that?!” Claire, making no effort to hide their closeness, linked her arm through his and smirked at me, raising an eyebrow. “He’s just like that, don’t take it personally. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to train Bruce well before I hand him over to you.” Bruce allowed her to cling tightly to him, his expression full of indulgence. But in the past, when I walked with him, if I so much as tried to hold his hand, he would subtly pull away. “So many people watching. It feels… uncomfortable.” It turns out, he was only uncomfortable with *my* closeness. I took a deep breath, pushing down the swirling emotions in my chest. “Don’t worry, I won’t force you to marry me.” Bruce froze, a frown just starting to form, when the sales assistant walked over. “Miss Cheng, the wedding rings you selected are all wrapped up.” Bruce scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve already picked out wedding rings, and you’re still saying you don’t want to marry me?” He grabbed my hand. “Put it on. Let me see if it fits.” His voice suddenly stopped. His gaze fell on the faint ring mark still visible on my finger. His voice caught. “Where’s the ring I gave you before?” “Threw it away.” My tone was flat. The day I decided to cancel the wedding, I tossed it. It was the first gift Bruce ever gave me, with our initials engraved on the inside. He, usually so rebellious, had a rare blush on his ears as he fiercely pressed it into my hand. “I carved it myself. If you lose it, I’ll never forgive you.” But later, he was the one who lost it first. When I found his shattered ring in the trash, Bruce awkwardly rubbed his nose. “Claire was drunk and insisted on taking it off to look. I don’t know how it ended up like that. Just toss it. I’ll get a new one made.” But I waited and waited, and he never got a new one made.

Bruce frowned deeply, his gaze resting irritably on my empty hand. “Can you stop with the drama? I said I’d marry you, and I will. There’s no need for these little games.” Claire tugged at his sleeve, pouting childishly. “Bruce, this is the newest limited edition! I tried so hard to get my hands on one!” Bruce’s tightly furrowed brows relaxed, and he handed the ring box to her. “Then why don’t you try it on?” Claire’s eyes lit up, and she moved to open it and put it on. I grabbed Claire’s wrist, my voice already cold. “Has no one ever told you not to touch other people’s things?” I hadn’t even used much force, but Claire suddenly cried out in pain, her eyes welling up. Bruce panicked, pushing me away with a shove. My lower back slammed into a sharp table corner, the searing pain making my vision black out for a second. Claire, eyes red, accused me. “I just wanted to look! Why did you use so much force?” Bruce’s face was filled with concern. He roared at me. “She’s crying in pain! Aurora Cheng, aren’t you going too far?!” He completely failed to notice my pale face, a result of the intense pain. It was always like this. As long as Claire frowned, or shed a single tear. He would always, unequivocally, stand by her side. Pushing down the bitterness in my heart, I reached out. “That’s my wedding ring. Give it back!” Bruce’s face was grim. He shoved the ring box into Claire’s hand. “This style isn’t suitable for a wedding ring. Pick another one.” “Unsuitable”? What a joke. It was just another excuse to make me give in to Claire. And besides, I wasn’t marrying him. Why should his opinion on what was suitable matter? Just as I was about to tell Bruce about the change in the marriage arrangement, he scooped Claire up, impatiently cutting me off. “I don’t want to hear your excuses! If you keep targeting Claire, I’ll have to seriously reconsider our relationship.” Watching his determined back as he walked away, I let out a self-deprecating laugh. Bruce, there’s no need. I’ve already made the decision for you. During the wedding preparations, rumors of Bruce and Claire traveling together were everywhere. Everyone was curious about my reaction. In our social circle, people had already placed bets, confident I would marry Bruce no matter how many times he left me. I heard that when Claire found out about the Sterling and Cheng families rescheduling the wedding, she bet all her savings, expecting to make a fortune. But this time, I feared she would lose everything. On the wedding day, I had just woken up when Bethany, my assistant, called in a panic. “Miss Cheng, it’s terrible! Bruce brought people to dismantle the wedding venue!” He could run out on our wedding, but he wouldn’t let me marry someone else? Suppressing my anger, I rushed to the hotel. Bruce was directing people to remove the flower archways. Before I could even speak, he launched into a furious interrogation. “Didn’t I say we weren’t getting married yet? What are you doing? Forcing a wedding like this? Claire was really upset about the ring incident last time. Until she gives her approval, this wedding isn’t happening.” I blocked a worker who was about to leave, my voice turning icy. “Put those things back.” Bruce’s face darkened. “Who dares?! Don’t forget, I’m the Sterling family heir! Even if she marries in, she’ll have to answer to me.” Heir? Ha. Bruce, you won’t be for long. Just as I was about to call the Sterling family to have them remove Bruce, Claire burst through the door, wearing a wedding dress. She twirled around, holding up the hem of her skirt, and whined to Bruce. “I just said it looked pretty, and you insisted I try it on. Now I have. If you dare say I look ugly, I’ll never forgive you!” Then, as if just noticing me, she said, surprised, “Aurora Cheng, what are you doing here?” I actually heard a hint of accusation in her voice. I scoffed. “Do I need to notify you to come to my own wedding venue? Are you going to take that dress off yourself, or should I get someone to help you?” Bruce’s face darkened. He pulled Claire behind him. “Aurora Cheng, don’t you dare go too far!” He destroyed my wedding venue, and she walked off with a wedding dress that took two years to make. And *I* was the one going too far? I looked at the security guards by the door and ordered directly. “Get them both out of here!” Bruce roughly grabbed my wrist, his eyes flaring with rage. “You haven’t even married into the family yet, and you’re already acting like a queen?” He violently waved his hand. “Take everything here, dismantle it, and burn it! Let her learn her lesson!” As an apology, the Sterling family had volunteered their staff to manage the wedding venue. These people didn’t know about the heir change and quickly moved to obey Bruce’s command. Seeing a worker carry a portrait out of the room, I shot up. “Put that painting down!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “333653”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #重生Reborn #现实主义Realistic