Three days before our biggest product launch and our engagement gala, I was in a horrific multi-car pileup. The driver’s side door was completely crushed. Shards of glass sliced deep into the back of my right hand, leaving me drenched in blood. As the freezing rain poured down, I shook violently from the agonizing pain. I called Ashton Thorne twenty-three times. When the line finally connected, it wasn’t Ashton’s voice. It was Serena Cole, sobbing hysterically. “Ashton… Pudding ran into that abandoned construction site. It’s so dark, and I’m so scared…” Ashton’s voice cut in, frantic yet incredibly tender. “Don’t move, Serena. I’m coming right now.” Then, he addressed me, his tone turning instantly dismissive. “Chloe, Serena’s cat is missing. She’s out in the middle of nowhere by herself, and she can’t see in the dark. It’s just a fender bender. Call a tow truck and go to the ER yourself. Stop trying to compete with her right now.” Click. He hung up. Six years. For six years, the moment Serena so much as sneezed, he would drop me without a second thought. I looked down at the engagement ring, now stained crimson with my own blood. With my left hand, I slowly pulled it off. This engagement? I didn’t want it anymore.

Heavy rain lashed against the shattered windshield. I was pinned tight in the driver’s seat, unable to move. The impact of the airbag had left my chest incredibly tight, and the metallic taste of blood welled up in my throat. The deepest cut was on my right hand. A triangular shard of glass was wedged deep into my skin. Blood dripped from my fingertips. It stained the steering wheel. It ruined the fresh gel manicure I had specifically gotten for our engagement gala in three days. The bright red against the pale skin made me feel physically sick. Outside, a paramedic was pounding on my window, shouting something, but the roaring storm drowned out his voice. I just stared at my phone. The screen lit up with Ashton’s name. My twenty-fourth call. Finally, he picked up. “Chloe Vance, are you seriously doing this right now?” Ashton’s voice was dripping with annoyance, backed by the loud revving of his car engine. “I told you, Serena’s cat is lost. That construction site has no lights, and you know she has severe night blindness. What if something happens to her?” I parted my lips, wanting to tell him I had been in a terrible crash. I wanted to tell him I was bleeding out, that my hand might be permanently ruined. But before I could make a sound, Serena’s weak whimpers came through the speaker. “Ashton… I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have come looking for Pudding in the dark… Is Chloe mad at you? Please go back to her. It’s fine if I just freeze out here…” Ashton’s breathing grew heavy with panic. “Don’t talk like that! I’m already here. I’m not leaving you.” He turned back to the phone, his voice as cold as ice. “Chloe, I know you like to be strong, but do you really have to play the victim to compete with Serena right now? Even if you got into a crash, you’re not going to die. Go to the hospital yourself!” Beep— The line went dead. The phone slipped from my weak fingers, falling into the puddle of water on the floor mat. The screen went black. Just like my heart, which had loved Ashton for six years, sinking into total darkness. The firefighters finally pried the door open. The freezing rain rushed in, making me shiver uncontrollably. As they lifted me into the ambulance, the paramedic looked at my bleeding hand and frowned. “Where is your emergency contact? You’re losing a lot of blood. We need someone to sign the consent forms!” I stared at the sterile white lights on the ceiling and forced a faint smile. “I don’t have anyone.” “It’s just me.” The paramedic blinked, startled, and didn’t ask further. The ambulance sped toward the hospital, sirens wailing. I closed my eyes, his words echoing in my head: Even if you got into a crash, you’re not going to die. He didn’t know that the glass shard was less than a centimeter away from my main artery. Just then, my phone—which the paramedic had retrieved for me—buzzed. It was a text from Carter, Ashton’s assistant. “Hey Chloe, Ashton asked me to let you know he’s helping Serena find her cat tonight and probably won’t make it home. Get some rest.” I didn’t reply. Instead, my eyes drifted to a new post on Instagram. It was from Serena. It was a photo of a dirty ginger cat snuggled in Ashton’s arms. Ashton’s expensive white designer shirt was covered in mud, but he didn’t seem to care. He was looking down, gently stroking the cat’s head. The caption read: “Even when the world goes dark, he is always my light. 🤍” Underneath, one of our mutual friends had commented: “Ashton is so sweet to you. Chloe really takes a backseat, huh?” Serena had replied with a playful emoji: “Oh, Chloe is way too mature to be petty about a cat! 😘” And Ashton had liked the post. I stared at that little red heart. The nurse came in with tweezers, preparing to pull the glass from my hand before the anesthesia was even administered. “Chloe, this is going to hurt. Squeeze my hand if you need to.” I nodded. The moment the glass was pulled out, blood gushed. The pain was so intense that my fingers clawed into the bedsheets, and my breath caught in my throat. But compared to the agony in my chest, this physical pain was absolutely nothing.

Twelve stitches. The doctor looked at my pale face and sighed. “The laceration is very deep. You cannot use your right hand for at least two weeks, or the stitches will rip. It could lead to permanent nerve damage.” “Thank you, Doctor,” I whispered. At 3:00 AM, the hospital corridor was dead quiet. I sat on the plastic bench, holding the prescription with my left hand, waiting for my meds. Suddenly, Carter appeared at the end of the hallway. He was holding a dripping black umbrella and Ashton’s favorite charcoal-grey wool coat. When he saw my heavily bandaged hand, his eyes widened in shock. “Chloe… you… you actually got into a car crash?” I looked up at him. “Did you think I was making it up for fun?” Carter swallowed hard, looking incredibly awkward. He offered me the coat. “Ashton… he was going to come himself. But Serena got a severe fever from the shock of losing her cat, and Ashton really couldn’t leave her side. So he sent me to check on you.” I didn’t take the coat. Mainly because I could smell the faint scent of orange blossom perfume on it. It was Serena’s favorite scent. “Take it back,” I said, my voice completely flat. “I’m not cold.” Carter stood there, fidgeting. “Chloe, please don’t be mad at Ashton. You know how it is… Serena saved his life back in college. He just feels a heavy sense of responsibility toward her…” Responsibility. I had heard that excuse for six years. Back in college, during a backpacking trip in the Rockies, they were caught in a sudden rockslide. Serena had pushed Ashton out of the way, getting her own leg crushed in the process. She was left with chronic pain and could no longer run or do heavy sports. Since then, Serena had become Ashton’s untouchable queen. Whatever she wanted, Ashton gave her. Even at Novis MedTech, the company Ashton and I had co-founded, Serena held a high-paying, do-nothing title just so everyone could cater to her whims. I used to think that if I was supportive enough, if we finally got married, Ashton would eventually realize who was actually standing by his side for the long haul. But I was wrong. I stood up and walked toward the pharmacy window. “Carter, tell Ashton I’ll see him at the launch tomorrow.” Carter let out a massive sigh of relief, thinking I was letting it go again, just like I always did. “Thank you for being so understanding, Chloe. Ashton said that as soon as the launch is over, he’s going to give you the most lavish wedding this city has ever seen.” I didn’t say anything. I took my meds and walked out into the freezing New York rain. A lavish wedding? No. I was only going to the launch to take back what was rightfully mine. The next morning, Ashton returned to the office. When he pushed open my door, I was struggling to edit our presentation slides with my left hand. The moment he saw my right arm in a sling, he froze. A flicker of genuine guilt flashed in his eyes. “Chloe… your hand…” He rushed over, reaching out to touch me, but hesitated. “Why is it so bad? Why didn’t you explain it to me last night?” I pulled my hand back, keeping my eyes fixed on the laptop screen. “I called you twenty-three times. Did you give me a single second to explain?” Ashton went rigid. He took a deep breath and placed a coffee cup on my desk. “I’m sorry. Serena’s fever spiked to 102 last night, and I panicked.” “Here, I got you your favorite latte. I drove all the way downtown to get it.” I looked at the cup. There was no condensation on it. It was lukewarm. The sticker on the cup read: Decaf oat milk latte, two pumps of vanilla. I let out a soft, humorless laugh. “Ashton, I don’t drink decaf lattes. I drink iced black Americanos.” “Sweetened decaf is Serena’s order.” Ashton’s face turned pale, then incredibly tense. He stared at the label, opened his mouth to explain, then sighed. “I… I must have ordered wrong. I’ve been so stressed about the launch. I’ll buy you another one.” “Don’t bother.” I swept the cup directly into the trash can. “We clearly have different tastes. Forcing it down will only make me sick.” Just like our relationship. It was time to stop forcing it. Ashton stared at the discarded cup in the trash, his eyes darkening. But he didn’t snap. Instead, he softened his voice. “Chloe, our engagement is in three days. It’s also the launch of Project Nova, the AI surgical robot we’ve spent three years developing. This is the most important week of our lives. Please don’t pick a fight right now, okay?” I looked up, staring straight into his eyes. “Okay. I won’t pick a fight.” Ashton let out a sigh of relief and reached out to pat my hair. “Good girl. I have a meeting to run. Let’s do lunch later.” He turned and left. I watched his retreating back, my eyes turning ice-cold. He had no idea that the file I was editing wasn’t just the presentation slides. It was the legal document to revoke Novis MedTech’s authorization to use the patent for Project Nova’s core algorithm—a patent registered solely under my name.

Ashton didn’t show up for lunch. Because Serena came to the office. She was wearing a flowing white sundress, looking incredibly pale and fragile as she pushed open Ashton’s office door. “Ashton… my head is spinning so bad. I don’t think my fever is completely gone…” I was walking over to get Ashton’s signature on some financial papers at the time. Through the glass wall, I saw Ashton immediately drop his tablet, rush over to the couch, and place a hand on her forehead. “Why aren’t you resting at home? Chloe and I have everything under control here.” Serena leaned into his chest, her eyes pooling with tears. “I just didn’t want Chloe to think I’m useless and getting paid for nothing… and I really wanted to help you guys pick out the party favors for the engagement gala.” Ashton sighed, his voice dripping with affection. “You worry too much. Chloe isn’t that petty.” Serena bit her lip, her eyes darting toward the hallway. She saw me. Then, she gasped softly. “Oh no, Ashton, my necklace is caught on your shirt button.” Ashton leaned down to untangle it. They were so close their breaths were practically mingling. From where I stood, it looked exactly like they were kissing. I didn’t knock. I didn’t interrupt. I just stood there, watching them for a quiet moment, and then turned back to my own office. That afternoon, the bridal boutique delivered my engagement dress to the office. It was a stunning, custom-made midnight-blue gown dusted with crystals, designed to look like the night sky. Ashton had picked it out himself. He once told me that blue was my color—deep, mysterious, and elegant. The stylist carefully helped me try it on, but when she saw my bandaged hand, her face fell. “Oh, Ms. Vance… this dress has tight, long sleeves. With your hand bandaged like this, it won’t fit. If we force it, it’s going to rip your stitches.” I stared at myself in the mirror. My makeup was flawless, but it couldn’t hide the dead, exhausted look in my eyes. “Then cut the sleeve off,” I said flatly. The stylist gasped. “Cut it? But this is a two-hundred-thousand-dollar custom gown…” “Cut the right sleeve,” I repeated. Just then, Ashton and Serena walked in. Ashton’s eyes lit up with momentary awe when he saw me in the dress. But when he heard me tell the stylist to cut it, his brows furrowed. “Chloe, the entire beauty of this dress is its symmetry. Cutting it ruins it. Just bear with it for a few hours. Once the ceremony is over, you can take it off.” I looked at him. “The doctor said any pressure on the wound will rip the stitches.” Ashton walked over and grabbed my left hand. “Chloe, there will be major tech investors and media outlets there. If you walk on stage with a ripped, asymmetrical dress, what will that say about Novis MedTech’s attention to detail? For the sake of the company, just deal with it.” For the sake of the company. For the sake of appearances. For the sake of his perfect night. But never once did he consider whether I would be in pain. Serena chimed in from behind him, her voice dripping with fake sweet concern. “Yeah, Chloe, Ashton spent so much time custom-ordering this dress for you. It would be such a shame to ruin it. Besides, the bandage is on the inside, nobody will even notice. You can do it for him, right?” I looked at Serena’s innocent, wide eyes and smiled. “Serena, since you think it’s no big deal, why don’t you wear it instead?” Serena flinched, waving her hands in panic. “Oh, Chloe, don’t play like that, it’s your engagement dress…” Ashton’s face completely darkened. “Chloe Vance, what is wrong with you lately? Serena is just trying to help, why do you have to be so toxic to her?” I ignored him, turning to the stylist. “Take it off. I’m not wearing it.” Ashton exhaled sharply, clearly trying to suppress his rage. “Fine. You don’t want to wear it? I’ll have them send a short-sleeved option. But you better make sure you look flawless on that stage in three days!” He grabbed Serena’s arm and turned to leave. “Let’s go, Serena. Don’t waste your breath on her.” The door slammed shut. The stylist trembling as she helped me unzip the dress. During the process, the heavy fabric dragged across the back of my hand. A sharp, white-hot pain flared up, and warm blood instantly soaked through the white bandages. I closed my eyes, fighting back the tears. Ashton, you always do this. In the name of love, you force me into the most painful compromises. But this is the absolute last time.

The day before the launch, we had a full-dress rehearsal. It was held at the Jacob Javits Center, the biggest convention venue in the city. Project Nova was our baby. If tomorrow went well, we would secure a $50 million Series A funding round, officially making Novis MedTech a unicorn company. I stood on the massive stage, clicking through the slides with my left hand, double-checking the flow. My right hand was throbbing with a dull, white-hot pain, but I had popped three painkillers to numb it. Ashton sat in the front row, frowning at his Rolex. “Chloe, this is going too slow. When is Serena’s segment?” I stopped and looked down at him cold. “Serena is literally just walking on stage to hand us a bouquet of flowers. What is there to rehearse?” Ashton stood up, his voice tight. “Her leg isn’t fully recovered, and those stage steps are steep. I’m not comfortable. Plus, I want to add a tribute video at the end of the presentation to thank everyone who supported us. Serena is going to be the main highlight.” I froze. “A tribute video? That’s not in the schedule. And for the past three years, the people who worked eighty-hour weeks in the lab writing code and debugging were me and the dev team. Serena did absolutely nothing but bring us Starbucks once a month. Why is she the highlight?” Ashton walked up the stage stairs, lowering his voice. “Chloe, don’t be so petty. Serena lost her ability to run because of me. I owe her this. Giving her some recognition on a stage like this will make her feel valued.” “Besides, you’re going to be my wife. You’re the co-founder of this company. Why are you jealous of a silly little highlight?” Always the same excuse. I let out a cold laugh. “What if I say no?” Ashton’s gaze turned freezing. “Chloe, I’m the CEO of this company. It’s already decided.” He turned to the tech booth and shouted, “Cue Serena’s video!” The massive LED screen behind me flickered, and the video started playing. It wasn’t a documentary of our engineering team’s sleepless nights. It was a compilation of Ashton and Serena. Ashton carrying Serena on his back during a hike. Serena feeding Ashton fruit in his office. Even a snapshot from two nights ago—Ashton holding the ginger cat, smiling warmly at Serena under a streetlamp. At the end of the video, text faded in: “To the one who never gave up on me. Thank you for being in my life.” The crew members in the venue looked at each other awkwardly. Everyone knew tomorrow was our engagement gala. Yet this video looked like a public love confession to another woman. A wave of intense nausea hit me. “Ashton, do you honestly think playing this at our engagement is appropriate?” Ashton looked slightly embarrassed, but he doubled down anyway. “This is just a rough cut. I’ll have them add some photos of you in there before tomorrow.” “Add me in? To make it look like a throuple?” I mocked openly. Ashton snapped. “Chloe Vance! Does everything out of your mouth have to be so venomous? Serena cried all night because of what you said yesterday. She was too scared to even show up to rehearsal today! What more do you want?” Just then, his phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID and picked up immediately. “Serena, what’s wrong?” Serena’s terrified scream pierced through the quiet venue. “Ashton, help me! I’m on the rooftop skywalk… my vertigo kicked in and my legs locked up. It’s so high… I’m so scared…” Ashton’s face went pale. “Don’t move! Close your eyes, I’m coming up right now!” He hung up and bolted toward the exit. I lunged forward and grabbed his arm. “Ashton! The lead investors are arriving in ten minutes to review the rehearsal. If you leave right now, what happens to the pitch?” Ashton violently shook my hand off. The force of his shove threw me off balance, sending me crashing to the floor. My right hand slammed hard against the wooden stage. Thud. An agonizing pain ripped through my arm, and my vision went black for a second. Blood immediately seeped through the bandage, pooling onto the stage. Ashton stood over me, his eyes devoid of any pity—only burning rage. “Chloe, the investors can wait. But if anything happens to Serena, I will never forgive you!” With that, he ran out of the hall without looking back. I lay on the cold stage, staring at the fresh blood on the floor, and suddenly burst into laughter. I laughed until tears streamed down my face. You’ll never forgive me? Ashton, you have it backward. I am the one who will never forgive you. The stage crew rushed over to help me up. “Ms. Vance, you’re bleeding really badly! We need to get you to an urgent care!” I used their support to stand up, then gently pushed them away. “No need.” I picked up the presentation clicker with my left hand, wiped my tears, and stood tall. “Tech booth, delete that garbage video. Restore the original slides.” “Everyone, back to your positions.” “We are continuing the rehearsal.” At that moment, I finally woke up. Depending on a man whose heart was never yours is a fool’s errand. You can only depend on yourself. AsAshton, since you love Serena so much. I’ll gladly let you have her.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “451321”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

Three years into my engagement with Ethan Vance, he became the most famous billionaire in America. He claimed to be a germaphobe who couldn’t stand the touch of women. Once, I accidentally brushed against his sleeve, and he not only threw the entire designer suit away but also showered three times. I thought he was like that with everyone. Until today, when his Maybach’s dashcam automatically synced to my cloud storage. On the screen, the man who claimed to despise physical contact was gripping his ex-girlfriend’s tiny waist, kissing her passionately in the backseat. Ethan ripped her expensive silk dress. The woman gasped breathlessly, “Ethan, what if your fiancée finds out? Won’t she make a scene?” He sneered, his voice dark and raspy. “She’s like a dead fish. Boring. How could she ever compare to you? Just touching her makes me sick.” I watched the screen. No tears, no screaming. I just calmly pressed Enter on my keyboard. And injected a lethal self-destruct virus into the core code of the autonomous driving AI—the very code I had spent three years of blood, sweat, and tears writing for him. Ethan, since you dared to betray me, let’s see if you can afford the price.

“Stella, run a bath for me. I need to wash up.” Late at night, Ethan returned home. As usual, he ordered me around like a servant. I sat in the shadow of the living room, where the lights were off, and didn’t move. He casually threw his damp jacket onto the sofa without throwing a single glance my way, walking straight to the bar to pour a glass of water. I could clearly smell a faint, sweet trace of tuberose perfume on him. It was Bianca Reed’s favorite scent. The laptop screen in front of me glowed with a ghostly blue light. Frozen on the screen was a snapshot of him in the garage half an hour ago, pinning Bianca against the steering wheel, kissing her like crazy. For the past three years, to accommodate his so-called “germaphobia,” I had always kept my distance. How pathetic that I was only finding out now—his germaphobia was highly selective. It only applied to me. “Ethan.” I closed the laptop, my voice sounding strangely loud in the empty room. He froze mid-pour, then turned around. “Why are the lights off? It’s pitch black.” He walked over, looking down at me. He pulled a cheaply made charm bracelet from his pocket and tossed it onto the coffee table. “I went to a business meeting today and picked this up for you. Stop complaining about my germaphobia.” I looked at that cheap piece of junk. Suddenly, the image from the dashcam flashed through my mind. He had just hand-fastened a twenty-million-dollar ruby necklace around Bianca’s neck. “My darling deserves the absolute best. Stella Brooks is nothing but a useful tool.” That was what he had whispered to Bianca. A wave of intense nausea surged from my stomach. I stood up, ignoring the bracelet, and looked directly into his deep eyes. “Let’s call off the engagement.” Ethan narrowed his eyes, studying me before letting out a soft, mocking chuckle. “Stella, who taught you to play these hard-to-get games?” He slowly pulled out a wet wipe, thoroughly wiping the fingers that had just touched the bracelet, as if he had contaminated himself. “If this is about me coming home late tonight, there’s no need for this drama. Bianca’s depression flared up, and she tried to slit her wrists. I only went to the hospital out of basic humanity.” He tossed the used wipe perfectly into the trash can, his tone flat, without a single ripple of emotion. “Don’t joke about marriage. If you wanted my attention, congratulations, you got it. Tomorrow, I’ll have my assistant order a custom gown for you. You’ll accompany me to the Tech Summit next week.” “Consider it compensation for your wild imagination tonight. Don’t push your luck.” Looking at his hypocritical face, I felt nothing but disgust. Over the past three years, I had stayed up until dawn countless times writing code. Whenever I begged him to watch a movie with me, he always excused himself, saying he had to prepare for the company’s IPO. Now, suddenly, he was willing to make time. “I’m not going.” “The engagement is off. Tomorrow morning, I will contact my lawyer to revoke Vance Enterprises’ free access to all AI patents under my name.” Ethan finally lost his patience. He slammed his glass down onto the marble counter with a heavy thud. “Since you’re not in a state to listen to reason, stay home and reflect. When you’ve cleared your head, call me.” He turned toward the door. “I’m staying at the Westside Villa tonight to get some peace.” At the doorway, he paused and muttered to his assistant outside, “Go buy her a cake.” The front door slammed shut, and the roar of his sports car faded into the heavy rain. Half an hour later, the assistant, drenched, rang the doorbell holding a pastry box. “Miss Brooks, Mr. Vance went out of his way to buy this to cheer you up.” I didn’t take it. Ethan’s notes on his phone made it crystal clear: every time Bianca had an episode, she needed cake to calm down. Even his way of comforting me was copied from his habits with another woman. “Throw it away,” I said, shutting the door. That night, Ethan didn’t go to the Westside Villa. At 2:00 AM, I saw a photo posted on Bianca’s Instagram. In the photo, Ethan was wearing his black silk shirt, leaning against the headboard of a five-star hotel bed, holding a steaming bowl of soup for her. The caption read: [Even if the whole world abandons me, my god will still descend from his heaven for me.]

The next morning, I took an Uber to a law firm downtown. Separating my core patents and revoking the prenuptial agreement was a tedious process. I sat in the conference room for five hours straight, checking every single line of code and patent I had once handed over out of love. When I signed the final revocation letter, a sharp pain shot through my chest. My vision went black, and I almost collapsed onto the desk. Over the last three years, to keep up with Vance Enterprises’ IPO timeline, I had worked day and night. My severe tachycardia was the direct result of that endless grind. Terrified, the lawyer quickly called a ride and sent me straight to the high-end private hospital owned by Vance Enterprises. The VIP cardiology suite on the top floor was a private sanctuary Ethan had publicly reserved for me during last year’s annual gala. Clutching my chest, I dragged my heavy legs out of the elevator. But just as I reached the corner of the hallway, two hulking security guards in black suits stepped in front of me. “Miss Brooks, we’re sorry. Mr. Vance ordered that no one is allowed to disturb them.” Leaning against the cold marble wall, I gasped for air. Through the half-drawn blinds of the ward, I saw everything. Ethan was sitting by the bed, carefully peeling an apple with a silver knife. Beside him, Bianca had a thin layer of gauze wrapped around her wrist. It wasn’t a suicide attempt at all; it was barely a scratch. She leaned weakly against Ethan’s shoulder, tears shimmering in her eyes. “Ethan, I had a nightmare last night. I dreamed you left me. I was so scared…” Ethan set the apple down, draped his designer suit jacket over her shoulders, and pulled her into his chest, resting his chin on her hair. “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right here.” His voice was so tender it could melt ice. That was a warmth he had never once shown me. Suddenly, the door opened. Ethan walked out with an empty thermos, intending to get hot water. He bumped straight into me. Seeing my deathly pale face and bloodless lips, his brows knitted into a tight, irritated knot. He didn’t ask why I looked so ill. He didn’t even notice my hand clutching my chest in pain. “Stella, are you really trying to steal a hospital room from Bianca now?” He lowered his voice, his tone dripping with disgust and accusation. “Bianca has severe depression and can’t handle any stress. You’re perfectly healthy—why do you have to fight a sick person for attention?” “This jealous, clinging act of yours is getting ugly.” The pain in my chest made it hard to breathe, let alone argue. I clenched my teeth, staring at the gradient-colored thermos in his hand. It was a limited-edition piece I had waited in line for three hours to buy him last winter. It had been kept in this room for my use. Now, it belonged to Bianca. Seeing my silence, Ethan assumed I was feeling guilty. He signaled his assistant in the distance. “Take Miss Brooks downstairs to the general ER to queue up. And grab a cashmere blanket from my car for her. Don’t let her stand here making a scene.” The assistant returned quickly, holding a white Hermès cashmere blanket, and offered it to me. “Put it on,” Ethan said, looking at me with a condescending pity. “Once Bianca falls asleep, I’ll take you out for that sushi you love.” I looked down at the blanket. The strong scent of tuberose perfume hit my nose. It was obvious who had been wrapped in this blanket in the backseat of his Maybach last night. Ignoring the agony in my chest, I walked past Ethan step by step toward the medical waste bin at the end of the hall. I let go. The expensive cashmere blanket fell perfectly into the yellow bin labeled [Infectious Waste]. Ethan’s face darkened instantly, the veins on his temples throbbing with rage. I turned around. I didn’t take the elevator. Holding onto the cold handrail, I walked down the stairs, step by step, leaving the top floor behind. Behind me, Ethan’s voice hissed with venom. “Stella Brooks! If you walk out of this hospital today, don’t you dare crawl back begging for my help ever again!” I didn’t look back.

I spent the entire night on oxygen in the emergency room observation ward. The next morning, I ripped the IV needle out of my hand and took a cab straight to the Vance Enterprises headquarters. The global launch of the [Stellar-Drive AI System] was scheduled for tomorrow morning. This was Vance Enterprises’ golden ticket to entering the billion-dollar electric vehicle market. Over the past three years, to stand by his side as an equal, I had hidden my identity as his fiancée. I had worked as the chief engineer, leading my team through countless sleepless nights and writing millions of lines of code to perfect this system. It was my life’s work as a master software architect. I walked to my desk to back up the final data. But as I stepped out of the elevator, the massive LED billboard in the lobby made me freeze. Where it once read: [Stellar-Drive AI — Chief Architect: Stella Brooks] It now read: [LunaTech — Chief Architect: Bianca Reed]. I pressed the button for the top floor and kicked the CEO’s office door open. Ethan was sitting in his large leather chair, signing documents. Bianca sat on the Italian leather sofa nearby, browsing seasonal high jewelry on an iPad. Hearing the noise, Ethan looked up. Seeing it was me, he set his Montblanc pen down. He walked to the bar, poured a warm glass of milk, and slid it toward me. “Drink some milk first. You look terrible. Did you stay up throwing another tantrum last night?” His tone was gentle, carrying a suffocating sense of entitlement. “I was actually about to call you about the name change and the credits.” “Stella, you’re going to be my wife. Everything Vance Enterprises owns will be half yours in the future. Why get worked up over a silly title?” “Bianca’s depression is very severe right now. Her therapist said she needs a strong social identity and a sense of achievement to rebuild her confidence.” “Just look at it as a charity case to save her life. Give her the credit. Everyone in the industry knows how good you are anyway; you don’t need this one title.” Bianca put down her iPad, walked over to wrap her arms around Ethan’s, and looked at me timidly, her eyes turning red instantly. “Stella… I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to steal your hard work. I’ve just felt like life is so pointless lately. Ethan said this project would help me find my value. If you mind, I’ll give it back to you right now…” Ethan held her hand, patting it reassuringly. Then, he slid a black Amex card toward me. “Take this no-limit black card. Go buy that Porsche you’ve wanted for a long time. Consider it my compensation. Be good, and don’t make a scene in the office.” I didn’t touch the milk, nor did I look at the black card. I just stared at this man, watching him trample all over my hard work just to feed another woman’s vanity. “Fine.” I nodded, without saying another word. I turned and walked out of the office. The moment the door closed, my fingers brushed against the cold metal of the micro-USB drive in my pocket. The tech empire I had spent three years building for him would become the first tombstone of Vance Enterprises tomorrow.

The annual Tech Summit and Charity Gala was held at the Park Hyatt in the city center. Dozens of tech media and financial channels were livestreaming the event. For the past three years, Ethan had demanded that I dress modestly and stay out of the spotlight. Tonight, I wore a backless, pure black designer gown. With my hair pinned up and bold red lipstick, I looked as sharp and cold as a blade. Holding a glass of champagne, I stood by the edge of the circular balcony on the second floor, looking down coldly at the fake smiles below. When the gala reached its peak, Ethan went up to the stage to deliver his keynote speech. Bianca stood right beside him, wearing a white mermaid gown, looking like a proud swan. As she reached up to adjust the microphone, her wrist caught the brilliant light, flashing a deep blue. I saw exactly what it was. It was my late father’s last bequest—a rare, limited-edition Patek Philippe Sky Moon Tourbillon. Two weeks ago, Ethan had taken it from me, claiming he was sending it to a master Swiss horologist for maintenance. Now, it was on Bianca’s wrist, serving as her latest trophy. After the speech, Ethan went to mingle with the crowd. Bianca, holding a glass of red wine, walked straight toward the champagne tower where I was standing. She stopped half a meter away from me. Nearby, cameras began to drift toward us. “Stella, this black dress really doesn’t suit you. You look like a widow who just lost her husband,” Bianca whispered, her voice too low for anyone else to hear. She raised her wrist, stroking the Patek Philippe watch mockingly. “This watch is beautiful. Ethan said only my elegance could match it. Leaving it with you is just a waste of a masterpiece.” I stared at her and took a step back, widening the gap between us. “Why are you backing away?” Bianca suddenly shrieked. She lifted her glass, her body suddenly leaning forward, and threw herself directly into the massive champagne tower beside us. Her wrist slammed hard against the solid glass base. With a sharp crack, the sapphire glass of the watch face shattered, and the delicate gears spilled across the floor. The champagne tower collapsed, sending glass shards flying everywhere. Bianca used the momentum to fall right into the pile of broken glass, her arm getting sliced by several small shards. “Ah! It hurts!” Clutching her bleeding arm, she looked up at me in terror, tears streaming down her face like broken pearls. “Stella! I know you’re mad at me for taking the credit for the AI system, but why did you push me?! You know my depression can’t handle this!” The crowd gasped. Everyone’s eyes and dozens of high-definition cameras locked onto us instantly. The crowd was roughly pushed aside, and Ethan rushed out like a furious beast. He took one look at the blood on the floor and the shattered watch, then ripped off his suit jacket to wrap a trembling Bianca tightly in his arms. He stood up slowly, stepping right in front of me, his eyes terrifyingly dark. Slap! Without any warning, a heavy blow landed on my cheek. The force of the slap whipped my head to the side, and the metallic taste of blood burst in my mouth. The flashbulbs went wild. Ethan’s hands gripped my shoulders so hard his knuckles turned white. He twisted the heavy platinum ring on his finger, his eyes, usually so cold, now burning with pure rage. “Stella Brooks, did you leave your manners in the gutter? You know how fragile she is, yet you pushed her! How can you be so vicious?” He commanded, his voice heavy with undeniable pressure: “Kneel down. Apologize to Bianca. Don’t make me say it twice in front of the press.” I didn’t shed a single tear. I wiped the blood from my lip with my tongue, tasting the iron. Then, I reached out and grabbed a broken champagne bottle neck from the table beside me. Before anyone could comprehend what was happening, I drove the jagged glass deep into Ethan’s left shoulder. The glass tore through his expensive white shirt, sinking deep into his flesh. Blood sprayed instantly, splashing across Bianca’s pale, horrified face. “Ah—!” Bianca screamed like a dying pig. Ethan let out a sharp gasp of pain, his eyes wide. His grip on my shoulders loosened instantly. He stared at me in disbelief, as if he didn’t recognize the woman standing before him. I pulled a thick manila envelope from my purse and slammed it hard against his perfect face. Inside were the bank records and signed documents proving Ethan had used my AI patent royalties to purchase three luxury villas overseas for Bianca. The papers scattered like snow, falling around the guests’ feet. I slipped off the diamond engagement ring that represented three years of my wasted youth and threw it onto the red carpet like trash. “Ethan Vance, you played the clean germaphobe for so long, did you actually start believing you aren’t filthy?” I looked at his bleeding shoulder and spoke, my voice echoing clearly through the entire hall. “Take your trash and rot in the gutter.” I turned, stepping over the glass in my high heels, and walked out of the gala without looking back.

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Every single one of my boyfriend Logan’s friends had tried to seduce me. It was always Logan’s idea. Every time I rejected one of them, he would throw a party to celebrate. His friends all said I was fiercely loyal to him. “We tried every trick in the book to tempt her, but Vivian never took the bait. Logan, man, you can finally sleep easy now, right?” Logan would look at me with a guilty smile and say, “I just love you too much, babe. I couldn’t help but test you. This is the last time, I swear!” He had said that phrase over and over again, always looking so sincere. Until he introduced me to his newest friend, Dominic. When Dominic stood in front of me, he was the definition of mature, sexy, and aloof. My heart suddenly skipped a beat. Logan had finally, successfully found my exact type. “Nice to meet you, Vivian.” Dominic’s deep, velvety voice washed over me. It was an incredibly sexy voice. He politely extended his hand. His fingers were long and clean, with prominent veins running under his sun-kissed skin. Even his hands were sexy. A few scandalous thoughts flashed through my mind, and my breathing hitched. “Nice to meet you too,” I replied, keeping my voice low and cool to hide my racing thoughts. But the moment our fingers brushed, a spark of electricity shot up my arm, leaving a delicious, lingering itch in my chest. Logan had me sit next to him, with Dominic on my other side. Before we arrived, Logan had given me the rundown on Dominic. Even in New York’s elite circle, there was a hierarchy. The Dominic family was at the absolute top of the food chain. And Dominic was the oldest son, the sole heir they had spent a lifetime grooming. Logan used to complain about him all the time. While the rest of the rich kids partied together, Dominic remained cold and distant, never deigning to hang out with them. Later, Dominic went to Europe for college, cutting off contact entirely. Who would have thought that shortly after his return, he’d suddenly become so approachable? When Logan sent out the invite, Dominic had joined without a second thought. Logan’s theory was: “He probably didn’t have any friends in Europe, so now that he’s back, he’s finally trying to fit in.” Of course, in front of Dominic, Logan sang a completely different tune. “Vivian, Dominic has some amazing connections in Europe. Didn’t your fashion design studio want to go international? You should totally ask him for advice. Why don’t you guys add each other on Instagram?” I glanced at Logan. His expression was dead serious. He looked exactly like a supportive boyfriend trying to help my career by networking. But I knew, with absolute certainty, that this was another one of his loyalty tests. Everyone at the table had that look on their faces—like they were waiting for a show to start. I scanned the room. They were all the same old actors. The first time Logan tested me was on our third day of dating. He was terrified I was only after his money. So, he had one of his rich buddies approach me, offering me millions to dump Logan and go with him instead. I was completely caught off guard back then. But more than anything, I was furious. I couldn’t believe Logan had such a backstabbing snake of a friend. So, I told Logan everything, warning him to watch his back around that guy. Instead, Logan just smirked at me. Later, that friend came to apologize, claiming he was just helping Logan test me and meant no harm. “Vivian is amazing!” he had said, giving a thumbs-up. “I literally offered her ten million dollars, and she didn’t even blink! Logan, you’re one lucky bastard!” Sitting at the head of the table, Logan had grinned with smug satisfaction. After that, he brought out guys who were hotter than him, richer than him, sweeter, funnier… a whole parade of men trying to get into my pants. And every time one of them failed, Logan would throw a party to “clear up the misunderstanding.” Gradually, everyone in his circle came to know that Vivian was hopelessly in love with Logan. They believed no man on earth could ever steal his girl. To outsiders, I didn’t care about money, power, or looks. I was just purely, unconditionally in love with Logan himself. As if. If I didn’t care about any of those things, why wouldn’t I just adopt a dog? I liked his money, and I liked his face. Among everyone I knew, he used to have the best package that fit my taste. But not anymore.

Dominic took out his phone. “Scan me. Let me know if you ever need anything.” Clearly, Logan had set this up beforehand. I ran a high-end, custom fashion design studio. With Logan’s connections and my unique designs, my studio had quickly made a name for itself. After styling a few celebrities for red carpet events and creating some viral looks, my business had boomed. By now, I was the go-to independent designer for the city’s elite. But my ambition didn’t stop there. I wanted to build my own commercial brand and take it global. “Vivian? Don’t just stand there. Not everyone gets a chance to get Dominic’s personal contact,” Logan’s voice pulled me back to reality. I blinked and saw Dominic holding out his phone with a QR code on the screen. His long fingers held the edge of the device in a relaxed, effortless grip. I pulled out my phone and scanned it. With a soft ding, we were connected. His profile picture was a solid, matte black background. Nothing else. His Instagram grid was completely empty. No posts, no clues. I put my phone away and looked up, catching his gaze. He wasn’t looking at his phone. Instead, his eyes were locked onto my face… specifically, my lips. It was only for a split second before he looked away. But I still caught the faint smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. Interesting. I looked away and took a sip from my glass. It was ice water. Suddenly, Dominic spoke up. “You should drink something else.” “What?” “Ice water isn’t good for you right now.” Quietly, he pushed his own glass of warm water toward me. I took a sip of the warm water, lowering my head to hide the small smirk on my lips. When I had reached into my bag for my phone earlier, I had purposely let him catch a glimpse of the tampons in my purse. So far, this man was passing with flying colors. After the party, I didn’t reach out to Dominic. Since he had agreed to help Logan test me, he would definitely make the first move. I was right. He showed up directly at my studio. He claimed he was in the neighborhood for a meeting, remembered my studio was nearby, and wanted to see if I could custom-make a suit for him. A client is a client. I had no reason to turn him down. “Of course. But I’ll need to take your measurements first. Are you in a rush, Dominic?” “Not at all.” I stepped forward with my measuring tape. Dominic cooperatively took off his suit jacket, leaving him in a crisp, high-quality white dress shirt. I measured his shoulders and arms. Everything went smoothly until I wrapped the tape around his waist. Because of the angle, I practically had to step right into his chest. The clean, woody scent of a mature man instantly wrapped around me. He looked down, his warm breath brushing against my ear. Then, without warning, his lips lightly grazed my earlobe. I gasped, stepping back as if I’d been electrocuted. He lowered his eyes. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself.” I let out a mocking laugh. “Logan sent you to test me, didn’t he?” “Yes,” he admitted, completely unfazed by being caught. Instead, he looked at me with burning intensity. “But what if I’ve fallen for you for real? What do I do now?” “Is that so?” I met his deep gaze, a slow smile spreading across my face. “Then you’ll have to try harder.” We stared at each other. Some things didn’t need to be said out loud. When two people are on the same wavelength, they just know. Just as he was about to speak, his phone vibrated. He glanced at the screen and answered it right in front of me. “Don’t worry, she hasn’t texted me at all.” “Don’t believe me? I’ll send you a screenshot.”

Logan was still talking on the other end. Dominic glanced at me and “accidentally” hit the speaker button. Though he kept the phone near his ear, Logan’s voice was crystal clear in the quiet studio. “Bro, you gotta help me out a bit more. Be more aggressive. See how she reacts. If even you can’t charm her, then I can finally be at peace.” Dominic chuckled. “How many times have you tested this girl?” “This time is different. You know how it is in our world—we have to marry for business. She’s brought up marriage a few times, and I’ve been dodging it. But my parents are pushing me to go on blind dates with heiresses lately, and I don’t want to break up with Vivian yet.” “So you need to help me. Once I’m 100% sure she’ll never leave me, I can go ahead with the family dates with peace of mind.” Dominic looked at me. “If you’re going to marry someone else anyway, why not just let her go? Keeping her in the dark is messed up.” “Dominic, you don’t get it. I really love her. If she loves me enough, she won’t care about a stupid piece of paper.” “Aren’t you afraid…” Dominic’s eyes darkened, “that I might actually steal her from you?” Logan let out a loud laugh. “Come on, Dominic. You’ve seen the most beautiful women in the world. Why would you ever fall for her?” “Anyway, if she passes this final test, I’ll reward her with a private commitment ceremony. Just a small event for our inner circle. That’ll keep her happy for life.” “But if she fails… well, then you help me throw it in her face. I’ll make sure she regrets it for the rest of her life.” Dominic hung up. We stood there in silence. Honestly, I wasn’t even that sad. I had thought about marrying Logan once. But after his constant dodging, I had checked out a long time ago. Staying with him was purely for his connections. To me, Logan was like a bland, tasteless dish. Dominic, on the other hand, looked delicious. I wanted him. But not quite yet. I threw myself entirely into my work, knowing Dominic would eventually be my prey. Dominic knew how much my career meant to me, so he kept feeding me resources. And I accepted every single one of them. He used his connections to help restructure my company, headhunted top talents for me, connected me with the best factories, and got me premium fabrics at dirt-cheap prices. He even secured a showcase spot for me at next year’s Milan Fashion Week. He kept giving without asking for anything in return, and I didn’t mind giving him a little taste of what he wanted. Just a little taste. Never the full meal. I acted like a total heartbreaker, soaking up all his favors while keeping him at arm’s length. But he didn’t seem to mind. To him, these favors were effortless. Except sometimes, when the tension got too thick and he was left hanging, he would let out a bitter laugh. “I feel like a dog you’ve got perfectly trained. How can you be so cruel, Vivian?” But that wasn’t true. He was incredibly attractive to me. Under the guise of fitting his suits, I would let my hands wander. Through the thin fabric of his shirt, I would trace the hard lines of his chest and abdomen. But I always stopped right before he lost his mind. That was my favorite game. Our flirting was practically out in the open, yet Logan was completely oblivious. He actually believed that all the resources Dominic was giving me were just “bait” to test my loyalty. Even his friends thought the same. During their parties, they would gossip about me behind my back: “Logan’s got his girl completely whipped. Even a guy like Dominic can’t tempt her. I bet she’d jump off a cliff for you if you asked!” “Vivian acts all cold and elegant, but in front of Logan, she’s probably begging for his attention.” “Imagine her face when she finds out Logan is marrying someone else. She’s going to cry her eyes out.” “Let her cry. It’s not like she can ever leave him.” “Hahaha…” Dominic had secretly recorded all of this and sent it to me. “Vivian, I didn’t want to play this for you because I didn’t want to hurt you. But I thought you should know what he’s really like behind your back.” “I don’t have any ulterior motives. I just… I hate seeing you treated like this.” “If I had the honor of being your man, I would never hang out with people who disrespect you like this.” “Are you refusing to be with me because you still love Logan?” Me: … I was just used to getting my bag first. Since Dominic was already on my plate, I was in no rush to eat.

The day Dominic’s prototype suit was ready, I decided to deliver it to his office myself. Dominic’s office took up an entire floor of his family’s skyscraper. His assistant buzzed me right through security. Dominic had given strict orders: I never needed an appointment. Which was how I unfortunately ended up overhearing Logan’s voice. “Dominic, you’re going way too hard just to help me out. Did you really have to give her all those premium connections?” “Women don’t need to work anyway. I can provide for her. Giving her all those resources is just a waste.” I had always known Logan never took my career seriously. When he initially supported my studio, it was just a patronizing gesture to keep me entertained. He figured his rich friends could buy a few dresses to fund my little hobby. Even when I started succeeding, his boasting felt more like a proud owner showing off a prettier vase than his neighbors’. Dominic didn’t argue. He just said coldly, “I don’t do charity.” “Of course, of course. I know you’re only doing this as a favor to me.” “But seriously, has she really not shown any interest in you?” Dominic raised an eyebrow. “Do you want her to?” “That’s not what I mean,” Logan waved his hand dismissively. “I already met Victoria, the heiress my parents set me up with. We’re both happy with the arrangement. The news is going to break soon, so I need a definitive answer before that.” He leaned in closer, lowering his voice: “Dominic, we need to up the stakes. Before my engagement party with Victoria, you have to make Vivian fall in love with you.” I sat in Dominic’s private lounge and ate three slices of cake, and Logan still hadn’t left. Losing my patience, I sent Dominic a text. A few seconds later, I heard footsteps in the hallway. Logan was saying, “Alright, I’m heading out. Don’t forget what we agreed on!” The footsteps faded away. Thirty seconds later, the lounge door opened. I raised the garment bag in my hand. “Brought your suit for a fitting.” Dominic’s dark eyes flared with hunger. I unzipped the garment bag and gestured for him to come over. He stared at me for a few seconds before finally stepping in front of me. I reached up, naturally unbuttoning his suit jacket and sliding it off his shoulders. He raised his arms cooperatively, letting the old jacket fall to reveal his crisp white shirt. Since a new suit required adjusting the shoulders and waist, I stepped behind him, draping the new fabric over his shoulders. My fingers slowly traced down his shoulder blades. I could feel the heat radiating from his skin through the shirt. “Raise your arms.” Instead of raising his arms, he suddenly spun around and grabbed my wrists. His grip wasn’t painful, but before I could react, he pinned me against the door. He leaned in, his hot breath mingling with mine. I didn’t push him away. Instead, I grabbed his tie, pulling him even closer. He paused for a fraction of a second, then slammed his lips onto mine, hard and desperate. I tilted my head up, matching his frantic rhythm. His hand slid down from the door to cup the back of my head, his fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me flush against his hard chest. When the kiss finally ended, his voice was thick and raspy. “When are you going to let Logan know?” I tilted my head and smiled. “I never said I was keeping it a secret.” Logan’s birthday bash was scheduled to be at Dominic’s luxury cabin resort in Aspen. That would be the perfect place to reveal the truth.

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I was packing my bags for our vacation when Ethan changed our destination again. This time, to Bali—the exact place my sister, Chloe, had been begging to go. I stopped what I was doing and caught the knowing glance exchanged between my husband and my son. “If Mom has an issue, we can always vote on it,” Leo, my eight-year-old, said with a shrug. For years, whenever there was a disagreement between Chloe and me, they voted. On my birthday, I wanted to go to a nice French bistro. They voted to take Chloe to a taco joint instead. I wanted to hang our family portrait in the living room. They voted to hang an oil painting Chloe had randomly splattered together. And today, the vote was once again two to one. I lost. Again. I tried to argue. “Ethan, Greece is where we got engaged. It means something.” He didn’t even look up from his phone. He was already booking the flights to Bali on Expedia. “Both places have beaches, Luna. It’s the same thing.” Ethan finalized the booking. A package for three. “They only had a three-person discount package left. You’ll have to book your own ticket separately.” Just like that, he grouped himself, our son, and Chloe together, leaving me entirely out of the equation. I slowly slipped off my wedding ring and booked a one-way ticket to Greece. If they wouldn’t take me to the destination I wanted, I could go there by myself.

Seeing me buy my own ticket, the tension in Ethan’s shoulders finally relaxed. He ruffled Chloe’s hair affectionately, then reached out to take my hand. “Come on, let’s go buy some swimsuits.” “Chloe and Leo have been practicing their surfing lately. They can finally show off their skills in Bali.” Leo clung to Chloe’s leg, looking up at her with puppy-dog eyes. “I bet Chloe will be the most gorgeous view on the entire beach.” My son rarely used sweet words. With me, he was always cold, his eyes filled with a strange, unspoken disdain. To get closer to him, I had spent weeks learning recipes from the food bloggers he followed on TikTok. But every time I eagerly asked him how it tasted, he would gag, spit the food into the trash, and roll his eyes. “Mom, your cooking is literal trash.” The food actually tasted fine. I used to think he was just a picky eater. But now I got it. He didn’t hate the food. He hated me, so he hated everything I did. Sitting in the passenger seat, I looked through the rearview mirror and saw Leo curled up peacefully in Chloe’s lap. Noticing my gaze, he pulled a face and stuck his tongue out at me. Chloe chuckled, covering her mouth. “Honestly, Luna, you and Leo must have been mortal enemies in a past life.” “He’s the sweetest kid to everyone else, but he just can’t stand you.” Ethan, keeping his eyes on the road, chimed in. “Yeah, Leo definitely adores Chloe. Every year when he blows out his birthday candles, he wishes Chloe were his real mom.” The car went silent for a second, and Chloe’s cheeks flushed crimson. She gave Ethan a shy, lingering look, then playfully tickled Leo. “Stop it, you two. You’re going to make Luna sad.” The laughter in the car felt like hot needles piercing my heart. This was the child I had nearly died giving birth to. But ever since Chloe moved into our house, he had never been close to me again. A bitter taste filled my mouth. Ethan leaned over and unbuckled my seatbelt. Perhaps sensing my heavy silence, he planted a quick, dismissive kiss on my forehead. “It’s just a kid’s joke, babe. Don’t take it to heart.” Inside the swimwear boutique, Ethan, who had been walking next to me, naturally drifted over to Chloe. Chloe held Leo’s hand, and Leo held Ethan’s. The sales associate smiled warmly at them. “You three make such a beautiful family!” Nobody noticed me standing a few feet behind them. Nobody corrected her that I was the wife and mother. My eyes burned. I watched Leo help Chloe pick out bikinis. Suddenly, he grabbed a bright yellow string bikini and ran over to me, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “Mom, you should try this on! You’d look amazing!” Ethan joined in, gently pushing me toward the fitting room. “Go on, let’s see if our boy has good taste.” A tiny spark of warmth flickered in my chest. After changing into the bikini, I even stood in front of the mirror, carefully smoothing out the fabric. I thought I would walk out to some kind of compliment. But the moment I pushed the curtain open, a bright camera flash blinded my eyes.

Leo had already uploaded the picture to our family Snapchat group. His childish voice was laced with pure malice. “Mom’s stomach scar looks like a disgusting giant centipede. Why does she always try to steal Chloe’s pretty clothes and make a fool of herself?” A cold dread washed over me. Right at that moment, Chloe stepped out of the adjacent fitting room. She was wearing the exact same yellow bikini, her flawless curves on full display. Everyone in the boutique turned to look at her. “Oh my god, her body is insane. Her skin is so smooth, not a single blemish. She looks like a model.” “Who’s that next to her? Look at her saggy skin and those nasty stretch marks. Yikes, put it away.” I felt like I had been stripped naked and paraded through the streets. I looked at Ethan in desperation. But his burning gaze was fixed entirely on Chloe. He didn’t even notice my humiliation. My phone buzzed repeatedly. The family group chat was already roasting me, calling me attention-seeking and embarrassing for a woman my age. I bolted back into the fitting room, locking the door as tears streamed down my face. Ever since Leo was born, I had tried everything to get rid of the ugly stretch marks and the C-section scar. I had fallen into severe postpartum depression and body dysmorphia. Back then, Ethan used to hold me, whispering that they were “stripes of honor” and “marks of love.” Even Leo, when he was younger, would kiss my stomach and tell me I was the prettiest mommy in the world. But today, they had ripped that half-healed wound wide open, letting it bleed in front of everyone. Outside the door, I heard the muffled snickers of my husband and son. “That’ll teach Mom a lesson for complaining about Chloe leaving her stuff around the house last week.” I slid down the wall, weak and numb, until Ethan’s voice finally called out, telling me it was time to go home. As we walked out of the store, Chloe gave me a smug, triumphant smirk, swinging her heavy shopping bags. “Luna, next time you buy clothes, maybe ask for my opinion first? Wearing the same outfit is kind of embarrassing for you.” Leo burst out laughing, scrambling to help Chloe carry her bags. Ethan tossed a cheap plastic pearl hair clip into my lap. “You’re not a teenager anymore, Luna. You need to accept your body for what it is.” “Classic, mature things like pearls suit you much better.” My nails dug deep into my palms. It wasn’t that pearls suited me. It was just that, in Ethan’s eyes, I was only worth the cheap freebies that came with Chloe’s purchases. Chloe wrapped her arm familiarly around Ethan’s. “Ethan, I still need to get some sunglasses.” Ethan grabbed my wrist, pulling me backward with force. “Don’t go home yet, we have more shopping to do.” I stumbled. The sharp edge of a designer shopping bag sliced right across my forearm. Beads of blood welled up instantly. I gasped at the sharp pain. But neither Ethan nor Leo even glanced back. They happily accompanied Chloe back into the mall. “Are you Luna? The photographer?” A soft voice broke through my daze. A young girl had stopped beside me, pulling a Band-Aid from her purse and handing it to me. I looked up, startled, and nodded slowly. The girl gasped, covering her mouth in excitement. “Oh my god! I love your work! I’ve been a huge fan of your photography for years!” “But… you haven’t uploaded anything new in eight years.” Ten years ago, I was a rising star in the photography world under the name Crescent. My photos were praised for capturing the raw, breathing soul of nature. Ethan had fallen in love with my work first. He had spent months trying to get my contact info. He used to send me flowers every morning, homemade lunches at noon, and hot cocoa in the evening. I was swept off my feet by his devotion and agreed to marry him. After our marriage, his career took off, while I was dragged into the domestic mud. Leo was born with a weak immune system, and I was forced to become a stay-at-home mom. I never touched my camera again. The only reason I had insisted on going to Greece was because Ethan had once promised me that we would take a set of wedding photos there for our tenth anniversary. He had forgotten his promise. But I decided I was going to keep mine—even if I had to go alone.

Saying goodbye to the girl, I looked her in the eyes and said, “I’ll be uploading new work soon. I won’t make you guys wait much longer.” Heavy footsteps approached from behind. Ethan walked up to me, his brows furrowed in annoyance. “What is taking you so long? You didn’t buy a swimsuit, and you’re not helping with the sunglasses.” “Drop the attitude, Luna. I promise I’ll take you to Greece next time, okay?” With me, it was always “next time.” With Chloe, it was always “right now.” When Chloe wanted a limited-edition Chanel bag, Ethan drove across three states to get it for her the same day. When I wanted a new Nikon lens, he promised he would have a friend import it for me. I waited excitedly for a week. When I asked him about the shipping status, he simply shrugged. “Oh, I forgot.” To Ethan, I had ceased to matter a long time ago. Maybe seeing how pale I looked, Ethan softened his tone a bit. “Luna, she’s your little sister. Why do you always have to compete with her?” I nodded quietly. “You’re right.” He smiled, satisfied, and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “When we finally go to Greece, I’ll have my assistant book the best wedding boutique and makeup artist.” “I’ll make sure you get the dream wedding shoot you’ve always wanted. You’ll be my beautiful bride again.” Chloe and Leo walked out of the store, carrying dozens of shopping bags, looking exhausted but happy. “Let’s go home! We practically bought out the store!” Ethan’s eyes softened with affection as he took the bags from Chloe’s hands. Suddenly, the sky opened up. A torrential downpour began to flood the streets. The backseat and the passenger seat of our SUV were completely piled high with Chloe’s shopping bags. As the rain lashed violently against the windshield, Chloe poked her head out of the window, looking apologetic. “Luna… there’s literally no room left in the car. Maybe you could take an Uber back?” Before I could even respond, Leo slammed the door shut, ignoring where my hand was resting. A sharp, crushing pain shot through my fingers. I pulled my hand back in agony, took a step backward, and slipped. My heel got caught in a drainage grate. Ethan made a move to get out of the car, but Chloe stopped him. “Ethan, the rain is getting really heavy. If we don’t leave now, the visibility will be too bad to drive safely.” He started the engine, throwing a quick “Take care of yourself” out the window before speeding off into the rain. The heavy rain soaked me within seconds. I bit my lip so hard it bled, forcing myself not to cry. These heels were a custom-made gift Ethan had ordered from a boutique in Paris for our eighth anniversary. As I struggled to free my foot, the leather rubbed my heel raw and bloody. Just like our marriage, once beautiful, now worn down to a bloody mess. I pulled my foot out of the shoe, leaving it behind, and stepped barefoot into the freezing, muddy water. Years ago, during the worst of my postpartum depression, I had stood on the edge of our balcony. Ethan had trembled with fear, begging me with tears in his eyes not to jump. He said the baby needed me. He said he needed me. I didn’t jump. I walked back inside, barefoot. He had knelt on the floor, gently warming my freezing feet with his hands before putting my slippers on. “Luna, if you get cold, my heart breaks.” Now, the cold rain drenched me to the bone, but Ethan’s heart didn’t break anymore. I pulled out my phone to call an Uber, but the screen flickered once from the water damage and went completely black. I stood under the bus shelter, shivering, waiting for the storm to pass. When the rain finally stopped, a street sweeper pointed at the drain. “Hey, lady, did you lose your shoe?” I looked at my bare, bruised feet and smiled. “No. I don’t want it anymore.”

By the time I dragged myself home, Ethan was just walking out of the kitchen with a mug of hot milk. My heart sank. I didn’t even ask him when he had learned how to use the stove. Last month, on my thirtieth birthday, I had begged him to bake a simple cake with me. He had refused instantly. “I don’t know how to bake, Luna. Don’t be childish.” Seeing me stand there dripping wet, a rare flash of embarrassment crossed Ethan’s face. “Chloe and Leo got soaked. I didn’t want them catching a cold, so I made them some hot lattes.” “There’s… probably some left in the pot if you want.” I glanced at the kitchen counter. The pot was already sitting in the sink, filled with soapy water. “Dad didn’t make any for you,” Leo sneered from the sofa. “Dad promised that his love only belongs to me and Chloe.” Even though I had told myself I didn’t care anymore, my chest still throbbed with a dull ache. “What happened to your feet?” Ethan’s breath hitched slightly as he noticed the blood on my heels. He moved toward the closet to find the first aid kit. I wasn’t ready to forgive him for leaving me in the rain. “I’m fine,” I said coldly. But the moment I took a step, a sharp, stinging pain shot up my legs. Ethan suddenly stopped, covering his nose and grabbing a can of Lysol, spraying the air around me. “Chloe has a weak immune system, Luna. Your feet are literally covered in street filth. You’re going to bring bacteria into the house.” “If she gets sick, I’m the one who has to stay up all night taking care of her.” Every word felt like a sledgehammer shattering whatever was left of my heart. I stood frozen as Ethan sprayed the floor with disinfectant three times, wiped it with rubbing alcohol five times, and then threw a pair of disposable slippers at my feet. Chloe sipped her latte, clinking her mug playfully with Leo’s. Suddenly, she ran into my study and came out clutching three of my vintage cameras. “Luna, can I have these? I want to take some cool vintage aesthetic photos on the plane tomorrow.” Those cameras had traveled with me across the globe. They were my prized possessions. “No,” I said flatly. Chloe’s lower lip trembled, and tears immediately welled up in her eyes. Ethan glared at me in frustration, snatching the cameras from my hands and shoving them into Chloe’s arms. “If she wants them, let her have them! I’ll buy you new ones later, Luna. Stop being so petty.” Chloe instantly beamed, jumping up and wrapping her arms around Ethan’s neck. Then, she pointed at the newest camera in the pile. “Actually, Ethan, I’ll just take this one. If I take them all, Luna might get really mad at me.” Ethan smiled tenderly. “You’re always so thoughtful, Chloe.” I stared at the camera in her hand. The initials of my name and Ethan’s were engraved on the leather casing. It was his wedding gift to me. He had forgotten. But it was fine. If she wanted my leftovers, she could have them. Leo gave me a wicked grin. With a sudden sweep of his arm, he knocked the remaining cameras off the table. With a sickening crash, the delicate lenses shattered on the hardwood floor. The memory cards rolled away. My mind went completely blank. I dropped to my knees, desperately trying to gather the broken pieces, but the power buttons wouldn’t even click. My dreams, my passion, my youth—shattered into worthless pieces by the people I loved most. A sudden wave of dizziness hit me. I bumped my head against the corner of the table, too weak to even stand up. Ethan sighed heavily, nudging my leg with his foot. “It’s just a couple of old cameras, Luna. Do you have to play the victim like this?” “Stop acting and pack your bags. Our flight is at nine tomorrow morning.” With that, he walked into the master bedroom with Chloe and Leo. I lay on the cold floor for a long time before I finally found the strength to drag myself up. From the bedroom, I could hear Leo’s sweet, spoiled voice. “I want to sleep with Chloe and Dad tonight!” I looked at the wreckage on the floor. I pulled out my backup phone, connected it to the printer, and printed out a copy of the divorce papers. I signed my name clearly at the bottom and left them on the kitchen island. The lights in the bedroom went out. No one cared if I was still breathing. I grabbed my passport, my ID, and walked out into the night. The house that wasn’t mine, the husband who didn’t love me, the son who hated me—I didn’t want any of it anymore.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “451318”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

I was reborn on my eighth birthday. My dad, Edward, had secretly bought me a cheap, seven-dollar grocery store cake. Just as he lit the single candle, my mother, Victoria, looked at him and laughed coldly. “Edward, why are you pretending to be a loving father? Lily isn’t even your child.” The lighter slipped from my dad’s hand, falling right into the white frosting. The tiny flame died with a soft hiss. The dining room fell dead silent. We were in a private room at a high-end steakhouse. The long table was filled with our relatives and top executives from my dad’s company. No one dared to breathe. In my past life, it was at this exact birthday dinner that Victoria threw the word “bastard” at my dad and me. Devastated and humiliated, my dad had rushed out of the restaurant, completely losing his mind. He was hit by an oncoming truck and died on the spot. Afterward, Victoria held his portrait at the funeral, weeping and telling everyone that my greed for a birthday cake had killed him. And I believed her. I spent my entire life tormented by guilt and regret. It wasn’t until after her death that the man she had hidden for years showed up at my door with her will, demanding a share of my inheritance. Only then did I realize that my dad and I had lived our entire lives inside her massive lie. But this time, I didn’t cry. Instead, I let out a cold laugh. “You’re right, Victoria. I’m probably not Dad’s child. After all, you forced me to secretly call your secret lover ‘Daddy’ a long time ago!” 1 The smirk on Victoria’s face instantly froze. Everyone at the table looked like they were being choked. Their forks remained suspended in mid-air. My dad’s face turned deathly pale. His body swayed. I knew exactly what he was going to do next. In my past life, this was the moment he stood up in despair, knocked over his chair, and stumbled out of the restaurant. He never came back. This time, I jumped off my chair and tightly wrapped my arms around his leg. “Edward, don’t leave. Please.” He looked down at me, his eyes terrifyingly bloodshot. Victoria finally snapped out of her shock. Screaming, she lunged at me. “Lily! Say another word, and I swear I’ll kill you!” She grabbed the cake from the table and slammed it right into my face. The sweet frosting instantly blinded my eyes. The sharp edge of the birthday candle scraped across my cheek, leaving a burning red welt. A collective gasp echoed through the room. But Victoria wasn’t done. She grabbed my hair and slammed my face down toward the edge of the table. “Eat it!” she shrieked. “Weren’t you begging for this pathetic cake?” “Your father sneaked it in behind my back. You felt so proud, didn’t you?” “You just wanted to prove that you’re more important to him than I am!” My eight-year-old body was trembling from the pain. But inside, I was only laughing coldly. Seven dollars. My dad was worth hundreds of millions, yet he had to hide a seven-dollar grocery store cake in his briefcase just to give it to his daughter. Because Victoria had decreed that every single cent of the family’s money had to go through her. When my dad bought me sketchpads, she claimed he was favoring me to humiliate her as a stay-at-home mother. When my dad took me to the dentist, she locked herself in the bathroom and took sleeping pills, crying that we were conspiring to exclude her. And when my dad wanted to throw me a birthday party, she publicly claimed I wasn’t his daughter. She wasn’t angry. She was executing us. She wanted my dad to know that if he dared to love me, she would plunge a knife straight into his heart. “Victoria, you’ve lost your mind! She’s your daughter! How could you do this to her?!” My dad finally snapped. He snatched me away from her and pulled me protectively into his arms, his heart breaking as he saw my face. Victoria’s sister, Chloe, was the first to defend her. “Lily, how can you speak to your mother like that? What a toxic little brat. No wonder Victoria was driven to this point.” Her brother, Julian, snorted in disgust. “An eight-year-old accusing her own mother of cheating? Someone clearly coached her.” He looked directly at my dad. “Edward, have you been wanting a divorce all this time? Is that why you’re using this child to throw dirt at Victoria?” The company executives lowered their heads, pretending to be invisible. Nobody dared to look at my dad. And nobody dared to say a single word to defend me. I wiped the cream from my eyes, reached into Victoria’s purse resting on the chair next to her, and pulled out a phone from the side pocket. In my past life, I only found this phone when I was clearing out her belongings after her death. That was when I discovered the secret she had kept her entire life. Before Victoria’s horrified eyes, I quickly unlocked the phone and forwarded three photos to the family group chat and the company executives’ WhatsApp group. The first photo showed Victoria kissing a man at the entrance of a luxury hot spring resort. The second was a screenshot of a transaction where she had transferred $50,000 to the man, with the memo: Annual Wellness & Healing Package. The third was a security camera screenshot of her leading me into a private studio. In the image, the man was kneeling in front of me, handing me a plush toy. Below that was an audio transcript of Victoria’s voice. “Lily, be a good girl and call him Daddy Damian. He understands Mommy much better than your father does, and he’ll love you even more.” The group chats instantly exploded. Every drop of color drained from Victoria’s face. “How… how do you know about this phone?” “You little bitch! Did you steal my phone when I wasn’t looking?!” I grinned at her, showing my teeth. “Victoria, didn’t you say I wasn’t Dad’s child? Then let’s check.” “We can do a DNA test, audit the bank accounts, and find out whether your Wednesday visits to the luxury estate in the hills are for ‘wellness’ or for hooking up.” Victoria raised her hand to strike me again. But my dad was faster. He grabbed her wrist with a grip of steel, his eyes burning with pure fury. Victoria froze. She probably never expected that the man who used to apologize to her just for spending seven dollars would ever lay a hand on her. Tears instantly streamed down her face. “Edward, are you hitting me for this bastard?!” My dad’s lips trembled, unable to form words. But he didn’t let go of her wrist. I raised the phone and dialed 91

“Hello, I need to report an assault.” “Someone is publicly defaming a minor at a birthday party, physically abusing me, and is suspected of forging paternity documents and embezzling family assets.” “The address is the Steakhouse on 5th Avenue, private dining room three.” Victoria lunged to grab the phone. I immediately ducked behind my dad. She missed and fell hard onto the carpet. The next second, she sat on the floor and began to wail at the top of her lungs. “I don’t want to live anymore!” “I sacrificed eight years for this family, only for my husband and daughter to drive me to suicide!” “Edward, do the two of you want me to die right here to be satisfied?!” I watched her cry, feeling absolutely nothing. In my past life, this crying had kept me on my knees for decades. This time, I gently tugged at my dad’s sleeve. “Edward, don’t feel bad for her. She’d never kill herself. She just wants to make us too afraid to live.” 2 By the time the police arrived, Victoria had already styled herself as the victim. She had a shallow red scratch on her wrist. She had made it herself using a piece of a broken wine glass. It wasn’t deep, but it looked dramatic. Chloe was holding her, crying hysterically. “Officer, look at what they’ve done to my sister!” “Her husband got rich and abandoned her, and he brainwashed their daughter. She’s only eight, and she’s already accusing her own mother of cheating!” Julian pointed directly at my face. “A child like this needs to be sent to a juvenile boot camp, or she’ll grow up to be a menace to society.” My dad’s body stiffened. I knew he was about to fall back into his old habit of blaming himself. In the past, whenever Victoria’s family ganged up on him, his first instinct was always self-reflection. Was he too busy with work? Did he fail to support Victoria emotionally? Did he make his wife jealous by being too nice to me? I didn’t give him time for self-doubt. I spoke up immediately. “Officer, there are security cameras in this dining room.” “My mother just told everyone I’m not my father’s child, threw a cake at my face, and pulled my hair.” “I have a burn mark on my face from the candle, and my dad has scratch marks on his face from her.” Victoria’s sobbing paused. The lead officer was a woman named Officer Miller. She glanced at me, then at the ruined cake and the white frosting smeared on my face. Her expression instantly hardened. “Let’s check the security footage first.” Victoria panicked. “This is just a family matter! Is that really necessary?” Officer Miller replied coldly, “Publicly humiliating a minor and physically abusing a child is not a ‘family matter.’” Victoria’s face turned white. She quickly shifted her expression, clutching her chest and leaning weakly against Chloe. “I… I only said those things out of anger.” “I was in so much pain. Edward only cares about our daughter, never about me.” “I just wanted him to show me some affection.” I let out a laugh. “So your way of getting affection is calling your own daughter a bastard?” She glared at me. Her eyes were filled with pure venom. Suddenly, as if remembering something, she pulled a document from her purse. “You want proof? I have it!” She slammed the papers down in front of my dad. “Edward, see for yourself.” “Is this precious daughter you’ve raised for eight years actually yours?!” Just as my dad’s hand reached for the report, I slapped my hand over it. “Don’t look.” Victoria shrieked, “Are you scared now?!” I ignored her and looked up at Officer Miller. “I suspect this report is forged.” “There is no official lab registration number, no photos of the sample collection, and no signature from a legal guardian.” “The agency listed is ‘Anhe Wellness Consulting.’ They aren’t even certified to perform legal DNA paternity tests.” Julian’s face tightened. “What does an eight-year-old know about this?” “I might not know, but the police do. And Dad does.” I turned to my dad. “Edward, tomorrow we will go to a certified forensic lab. You and I will do a proper test on the spot.” “If I’m not your daughter, I’ll accept it.” “But if I am, you must sue her.” My dad stared at me. His lips trembled, but he couldn’t speak. I squeezed his hand. “Edward, even if it’s just for me, don’t let it go this time.” “Mom… no, Victoria is a bad person. I don’t want her to be my mother anymore.” Something in my dad’s eyes shattered completely in that moment. And then, a new light slowly gathered in them. After a long silence, he said hoarsely, “Okay.” Victoria bolted upright. “No!” Everyone in the room turned to look at her. Realizing she had reacted too quickly, she immediately began to weep again. “I am her mother! I won’t allow her to go through such trauma.” “She’s only eight years old! How can you bear to draw her blood?” I raised my arm. “It’s a cheek swab, Victoria. No needles.” Victoria: “…” Officer Miller almost cracked a smile. For the first time, my dad looked at Victoria with cold, dead eyes. “When you called her a bastard, you didn’t care that she was only eight.” “Now that we want the truth, you suddenly care?” Victoria’s face went completely pale. I picked up the phone and typed a message into the family and company group chats. “Tomorrow morning, 9:00 AM, at the State Forensic Identification Center.” “At the same time, I request the company’s financial team to audit Victoria’s personal accounts, secondary cards, company reimbursements, and consultant contracts over the last eight years.” “She claims all her expenses were for the family’s image. Let’s let the bank records speak for themselves.” The group chat remained silent for three seconds. Then, my dad replied: “Do exactly what Lily says.” Marcus, the Chief Financial Officer, replied: “Understood. We will begin the audit as soon as Edward signs the authorization.” My uncle, Richard, also replied: “Since things have come to this, we must investigate.” Victoria stared at her phone, her tears completely dried up. She glared at me, her eyes burning with a raw, murderous hatred that she no longer bothered to hide. 3 The next morning, before I could even reach the forensic lab, I went viral on TikTok. Victoria and her family had blocked the gates of my school. She was wearing a white dress, her wrist wrapped in layers of gauze, looking as pale as a corpse. Behind her, Julian and Chloe were holding up a massive banner: [Eight-year-old daughter defames mother; billionaire husband drives wife to suicide.] Next to it was a cardboard sign. It had my photo pasted on it. And underneath my face, written in giant, red letters, was the word: BASTARD. Parents and students were crowding around, filming with their phones and whispering. “Is that her?” “The kid looks so creepy.” “She drove her own mother to her knees. How heartless.” Looking at that cardboard sign, my fingers clenched into tight fists. Eight years old. She had plastered the word “bastard” under an eight-year-old’s photo for the entire world to see. She had done the exact same thing in my past life. After my dad died, she had hugged me and cried, saying: “If you hadn’t been so greedy for that cake, I wouldn’t have gotten angry, and your father wouldn’t have died.” Later, when I ranked first in school, she said: “What’s the point? Your father isn’t alive to see it.” When I had a 104-degree fever, she said: “Your father is dead. How do you have the face to ask me to take care of you?” Guilt was the leash she used to control me my entire life. And today, she wanted to slip it back over my neck. When Victoria saw my dad’s car, she immediately ran over and threw herself onto her knees in front of us. “Edward, I beg you.” “Don’t do the test.” “Don’t audit the accounts.” “Lily, Mommy will beg you on her knees, okay?” She actually began to bow her head toward the ground. The crowd’s cameras immediately zoomed in on my face. Chloe screamed, “Lily! Your mother is on her knees! Do you really want to kill her?!” I stepped out of the car. And then, before the entire crowd, I fell to my knees too. I bent down and pressed my forehead hard against the pavement. Thud. The impact sent a sharp pain through my skull. “Victoria, I beg you too,” I sobbed loudly, my voice echoing through the schoolyard. “Please stop calling me a bastard.” “Please stop hitting Dad.” “Please stop transferring Dad’s money to Damian.” “Please stop forcing me to call him Daddy Damian.” With that, I pulled out my phone and played the audio file I had backed up from Victoria’s secret phone at maximum volume. Victoria’s voice, sickly sweet and tender, echoed through the speaker: “Lily, when you see Damian, you have to call him Daddy.” “Your father only knows how to make money. He doesn’t know how to love.” “Only Damian understands how much Mommy suffers.” Immediately following was a man’s low laugh. “What a good girl. Daddy Damian will buy you a toy castle.” The entire school gate went dead silent. Victoria’s face turned white as sheet. She lunged forward to grab my phone. But my dad stepped in, shielding me. “Don’t touch Lily.” Victoria screamed, “Edward! You’d rather believe a lying child than me?!” My dad looked at the banner behind her, and then at the word “bastard” under my photo. His eyes slowly filled with tears, turning completely red. “She is your daughter, and you are her mother. How could you do this to her?” Victoria shook her head, sobbing, “I was forced into this by both of you!” Just then, Officer Miller arrived with several police cars. The moment she saw the banner and the cardboard sign, her face hardened. “Who organized this?” The relatives immediately looked away, pretending they had nothing to do with it. Officer Miller ordered her colleagues to record the scene and warned them to stop harassing a minor and disrupting school order. The surrounding parents began to whisper. “So the mother actually made a banner to harass her own kid?” “That is messed up.” “I almost believed her. What a psycho.” Hearing this, Victoria’s face twisted in rage for a split second. But she quickly went back to her act, clutching her chest and collapsing into Chloe’s arms. “My chest… it hurts…” I immediately spoke up. “I already called an ambulance.” “The hospital bill will be charged directly to her personal account.” Suddenly, her chest didn’t seem to hurt as much. At the forensic lab, the staff verified our IDs, took photos, and collected cheek swabs. When my dad signed the authorization form, his hand was still shaking. Victoria sat in the corner, her glare sharp enough to cut skin. I pushed a document in front of her. “Sign this.” She sneered, “What kind of game are you playing now?” “If the test results prove I’m not Dad’s biological daughter, I will make a public apology to you,” I said calmly. “But if I am, you must publicly admit to your defamation, delete all the videos you posted, and pay damages to Dad and me for destroying our reputation.” Victoria mocked, “You’re just a kid, yet you’ve learned such disgusting tricks.” My dad pushed another pen toward her. “I will sign it too.” “If the test proves Lily is my daughter, I will immediately file for divorce and sue you to recover every single cent you’ve transferred.” The smug smirk on Victoria’s face finally crumbled. Julian whispered urgently beside her, “Victoria, don’t sign it.” I immediately chimed in, “Oh, so you don’t dare?” “Doesn’t that prove you’ve been lying from the very beginning?” Victoria could tolerate anything except losing. “I’ll sign it!” she spat, grabbing the pen and scribbling her name. “You want to know if you’re really his daughter? I’ll tell you right now.” Suddenly, she leaned close to my ear and whispered a few words. My pupils contracted instantly. 4 During the three days we waited for the results, Victoria didn’t stay idle. She edited the video of the incident at the school gate and posted it on TikTok. In her version, the video only showed her kneeling before me while I stood there with a cold, unbothered expression. My kneeling, the audio recording, the banners, and the cardboard sign were completely edited out. The caption was designed to stir up outrage: 【Eight-year-old daughter forces mother to kneel; billionaire father watches coldly.】 The comment section exploded. “Are kids these days really this evil?” “Being a stay-at-home mom is a nightmare.” “Edward got rich and now he’s trying to get rid of his wife.” “The father clearly brainwashed the daughter.” Soon, people doxed my school. Someone threw rotten vegetables at the school gates. My desk was filled with nasty sticky notes. “Bastard.” “Ungrateful brat.” “You killed your own father.” When I read the last note, a chill ran down my spine. In my past life, Victoria was the only one who ever said those words to me. She was already setting the stage. If my dad died again in this life, she would once again pin the blame on me. I took photos of every single note and sent them to Arthur, our family lawyer. Arthur was an old friend of my dad’s. He had rushed back from an out-of-town business trip the night before. After reviewing the photos, he simply said, “Keep collecting evidence.” “Don’t engage with her online.” “If she wants a stage, we will build her a courtroom.” That evening, Victoria started a livestream on TikTok. She sat in a dimly lit room, with a bottle of sleeping pills clearly visible on the table next to her. She wept softly, looking incredibly fragile. “I admit, I lost control of my emotions and said things that hurt my child.” “But nobody knows how lonely I’ve been all these years.” “When Edward comes home, he only has eyes for Lily. He never looks at me.” “He bought her a cake, but he forgot that I need to be loved too.” The chat scrolled by at lightning speed. “Stay strong, sister! Don’t do anything stupid!” “Being a stay-at-home mom is so suffocating.” “The husband and daughter are both trash.” She began to justify her spending. “I bought luxury bags to maintain his image at business dinners.” “I took wellness courses because this house drove me into depression.” “I attended high-society galas to build networks for Edward’s company.” I watched her hands on the screen. Her wedding ring was gone. I immediately looked up at my dad. “Edward, she is going to meet Damian tonight.” My dad froze. “How do you know?” “Every time she meets him, she takes off her wedding ring,” I explained. In my past life, it was on this very night. After her pity-party livestream, she went to Damian’s luxury apartment to drink champagne and celebrate. When Damian came to claim the inheritance later, he had played me a recording of that night. Victoria had laughed and said, “Edward died at the perfect time. Otherwise, getting this money wouldn’t have been so easy.” I still remembered those words. Every single syllable felt like a knife. Arthur quickly tracked down a property in the prestigious neighborhood of the city. The title was under Victoria’s name. The purchase had been made using my dad’s secondary credit card. Coincidentally, the property management had just filed a report about a water leak, requiring the owner to open the door. At 9:00 PM, my dad, Arthur, the property manager, and a plumber arrived at the apartment. Before the door opened, my dad’s face was as gray as ash. I squeezed his hand. “Edward, if there’s no one inside, we’ll just go home.” “But if there is, you are not the one who should feel embarrassed.” The moment the door opened, a strong scent of expensive perfume wafted out. Victoria’s high heels were discarded on the living room floor. A man’s laughter echoed from the bedroom. “You put on a great show tonight. You’re number one on the trending page.” Victoria’s lazy voice replied, “Edward is an idiot. He’s so easy to manipulate.” “He’s probably sitting at home right now, blaming himself for being too harsh on me.” Damian asked, “What if he actually audits the accounts?” Victoria sneered, “He wouldn’t dare.” “He had to sneak around just to buy a seven-dollar cake. You think he has the balls to cross me?” My dad stood in the entryway, completely frozen like a statue. The next second, the bedroom door opened. Victoria walked out wearing a silk negligee. Damian followed her, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. Their eyes collided. The smirk on Victoria’s face shattered instantly. “Edward…” Damian reacted quickly. “Edward, this is a misunderstanding. I’m Victoria’s emotional therapist. She was in a dangerous mental state tonight, and I was performing a crisis intervention.” I looked at the bright red lipstick mark on his neck and let out a laugh. “Do you usually strip down to a towel for ‘crisis interventions’?” Arthur immediately raised his phone to take photos and videos. Victoria screamed and lunged forward, “Stop filming!” My dad finally raised his head. His voice was very quiet. But it was as cold as ice. “Victoria, we are getting a divorce.” She froze. And then, she laughed. “Edward, you can’t survive without me.” “Without me, you don’t even know what medication you’re supposed to take.” “If you dare divorce me, I will make sure the whole world knows you’re a monster who drove his own wife insane.” My dad remained silent. So I spoke for him. “Then let’s show the world who the real maniac is.”

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Lucas Hart had fought in underground boxing rings for five years, and he finally stepped onto the World Championship stage. To support his fights, I washed dishes at a diner during the day and delivered food at night. Lucas had once held my cracked hands and cried until his eyes turned red, and he swore: “Nina, when I win the World Championship, I’ll make sure you live a good life.” But on the day he walked toward the World Championship stage, I said I wanted to go with him. Lucas stayed silent for a few seconds, then brushed me off. “What would you even do there when you don’t understand it?” When he won the title, I was crouching down washing dishes. On the TV screen, Lucas stood there in high spirits, giving his acceptance speech. I felt happy for him, and then I heard the reporter ask who he wanted to thank the most. Lucas’s gaze seemed to meet mine through the screen, and his lips moved. I tightened my grip on the greasy plate in my hand, and a wave of expectation rose inside me. But in the next second, Lucas’s familiar voice came crashing down. “The person I want to thank the most is my love, Sophie Blake.” Before I could react, my best friend, whose name had just been mentioned, smiled shyly and ran onto the stage, then kissed Lucas deeply. The applause and blessings of the whole world surged in at that moment. I stared at the two people hugging tightly on the screen. Then I lowered my head and looked at my own rough, cracked hands. Silently, I put down the plate in my hand and called my dad. “Dad, I agree to go back and inherit the family business.” 1 After I hung up, Sophie’s updated Ins post popped up. A nine-photo grid. In the picture, a man’s slender hand was interlaced with hers, and that glittering gold medal rested against her chest. 【Nothing in the world is happier than my husband winning his match while I happen to be by his side.】 I casually liked the post and turned off my phone. The dark screen reflected my sallow face. The apron on me was covered in water stains and grease. I was only twenty-five, yet a few strands of white hair had already appeared at my temples. I took off my apron and went to the back kitchen to resign to my boss. “You’ve worked here for so long, and you’re always the last one to leave every day, so why are you suddenly leaving?” The boss was cooking, and when he heard me say I was quitting, he looked a little surprised. Lucas often got injured from boxing, and sometimes when he came home, his fingers would be terribly swollen. To buy him a good pair of gloves, I worked part-time jobs like my life depended on it, and sometimes I stayed busy at the diner until after midnight before leaving. I let out a soft laugh and put the apron on the counter. “I’m a little tired, and I want to rest properly for a while.” After I left the diner, Lucas sent me a message. 【Nina, I’ll be back later.】 I did not reply, and I followed the address in Sophie’s photo. Outside the plaza downtown, a crowd of onlookers and reporters had gathered. Hot-air balloons with Sophie’s name on them floated in the sky all around. Lucas knelt on one knee inside a heart made of candles and rose petals. He held a ring in one hand and offered it to the shy-faced woman in front of him. “Sophie, will you marry me?” Amid the lively teasing and blessings from the people around them, Sophie’s ears turned bright red, and she reached out with teary eyes. “Of course I will~” Lucas carefully slipped the ring onto her pinky. The crowd instantly erupted, and everyone began clapping. Reporters pushed forward one after another to interview them. Lucas held Sophie and looked at her with a gentle, unwavering gaze. Then he turned his head toward the reporters’ cameras. “I promised Sophie that I would marry her if I won the match, and now, I’ve finally done it.” I stood outside the crowd, my nails digging deep into my flesh. I felt as if all the blood in my body had frozen, and I could not stop trembling. I remembered the night I delivered food until midnight and ran into thugs at the mouth of an alley. To protect myself, I was beaten by several burly men until my left eye became severely blind. Lucas knelt beside my hospital bed, held my cracked hand tightly with red eyes, and made me a promise. “Nina, don’t worry, when I win the match, I’ll be able to propose to you.” “On that day, I will make you the most beautiful bride in the world!” And now, I looked at the heart-shaped balloons floating all over the sky. My heart felt as if it had been struck hard by a blunt object, and my nose stung. I could no longer hold back my tears. As if afraid someone would see me in such a wrecked state, I pushed through the crowd and ran away like I was fleeing. I did not know how I got home. At ten o’clock that night, the door opened. Lucas changed his shoes in the entryway, and the fluorescent light switched on with a snap. When he saw me sitting on the couch and staring straight at him, Lucas jumped in fright. “Nina? Why are you sitting there in the dark this late?” I did not speak and just stared at him. There was now a Strawberry Bear bracelet on his wrist. I had seen Sophie wearing one in her Ins post, and theirs were a couple’s set. Lucas drank a glass of water, walked over, hugged my waist from behind, and rubbed his face against me. “I’m so tired today, and you have no idea, I almost lost this afternoon.” He leaned closer and tried to pinch my cheek, but I turned aside and avoided him. The gardenia scent Sophie always used drifted into my nose. A wave of nausea surged inside me, and the emotion I had buried suddenly exploded. “Don’t touch me!” Lucas froze, and his raised hand stiffened in midair. His face darkened instantly. “What are you throwing a tantrum about? Are you still mad because I didn’t let you go watch the match?” I raised my head and looked at his face, which was still as handsome as before. Yet at this moment, I found him unbearably fake. I opened my mouth and asked directly: “When did you and Sophie get together?” 2 Lucas froze in place, and when he looked at my trembling body, panic flashed through his eyes. I looked into his eyes and stubbornly asked aloud. “You said you wanted to marry me, so was all of that fake?” I clenched my fists, wishing so badly that Lucas would tell me right now that everything was fake. That I was dreaming. But after a long moment, he suddenly let out a scoff. He leaned lazily back against the couch. “You know everything?” He raised his hand and gently wiped away the tears at the corner of my eyes, just like before. With a soft laugh, he rubbed the top of my head. “Although I can’t marry you, you can still continue being my lover.” “Now that I’ve won the match, I have everything, and other than a wedding, I’ll give you whatever you want.” “It’s just a marriage license, and it doesn’t mean anything.” I looked at the man’s mouth opening and closing. He still looked the same as before. Yet at this moment, I found him unbelievably fake. I remembered the night five years ago when he held my hand and said he wanted to give me a good life. I was held tightly in his arms, and he said that when he made a name for himself, we would get married. Back then, the young man’s eyes were full of me. I ignored my dad’s warnings, and because I was afraid Lucas would feel inferior because I was a wealthy heiress, I never told him. I resolutely gave up wealth and luxury, and I stayed with him through hardship while he fought illegal matches. I thought that when Lucas finally made a name for himself, we really would get married. But now, I thought of the way he proposed to Sophie. In the end, he succeeded, and the first person he abandoned was me! Overwhelming emotions surged up inside me. I shoved him away and shouted with red eyes. “Lucas Hart, don’t you think you’re disgusting?” Lucas lost his patience, stood up, and looked at me indifferently. “Nina Sterling, you should be thanking me right now, because you have nowhere to go after cutting ties with your dad for me.” “Now, other than me, where else can you go in this huge Harbor City?” He patted my face, picked up a bath towel, and walked toward the bathroom. “Stay by my side like a good girl, and stop making trouble all the time.” I stared at the tightly shut door and collapsed completely to the floor. I tilted my head back and refused to let the tears fall. My phone vibrated, and my dad’s driver, Mr. Finch, called. “Miss, the boss has arranged everything, and I’ll come pick you up in two days.” “Okay.” After I hung up, I went to the bedroom and started packing. I did not have much luggage, and one suitcase held everything. Lucas rarely bought me anything, and I understood that boxing was hard for him. All the money I earned was saved to buy Lucas protective gear and gloves. I could not even bear to buy myself a decent piece of clothing. After I finished packing and dragged the suitcase up, a sharp sinking pain suddenly came from my lower abdomen. I curled up on the floor and reached toward my thigh. A blinding red fell into my palm. I looked at my slightly swollen lower belly, and half a month ago, I had found out I was pregnant. But because I had crouched for long hours washing dishes, the baby was in danger. The doctor had warned me that if I did not go to the hospital for treatment as soon as possible, both the mother and the baby could be in life-threatening danger. But when I saw the expensive follow-up fee, I still did not tell Lucas. The sinking pain in my lower abdomen grew stronger and stronger, and blood gushed out from between my legs. Footsteps sounded outside the bedroom, and Lucas had finished his shower. Hope sparked inside me, and I gripped the floor and crawled toward the door, wanting to ask him for help. “Lucas… save me…” All the strength in my body seemed to have been drained away, and I used every last bit of effort to squeeze out my voice. I kept slapping the door. “Nina, are you in there?” Lucas heard the faint slapping at the door, frowned, and was just about to walk toward the bedroom. Just then, a knock suddenly came from outside the front door. “Lucas, when I got home, I found my place had been completely ransacked, and I’m so scared…” Sophie’s soft, delicate voice rang out outside the door. Lucas could no longer care about the movement in the room, and he quickly walked to the entryway and opened the door. “How could a thief get in, and it’s so cold, but you didn’t even put on a jacket.” “Come on, I’ll go back with you and take a look.” The conversation outside the door drifted over, and the sound of fabric rubbing followed. Then the front door was shut. The whole house fell silent again. I lay on the floor with a pale face and felt blood keep flowing out of my body. My throat seemed to be gripped tightly, and the pain made it so I could no longer make a sound. My phone vibrated, and Lucas’s message came in: 【Something came up, so I’m heading out for a while, and don’t wait up for me, sleep early.】 3 Tears streamed from the corners of my eyes, and the hope that had lit up in my heart completely fell through. I used the last of my strength to call 91

“What kind of family leaves a pregnant woman home alone?” “If she had been brought in any later, you would’ve lost your life!” When I opened my eyes, the doctor was flipping through my medical records and looking at me with complaint and regret. I stared blankly at the ceiling, touched my lower abdomen, and felt as if a piece of my stomach was empty. I asked the doctor in a hoarse voice. “The baby…” The doctor stared at my lips, which were so pale they were cracked, and sighed. “If you had been brought in earlier, the baby might have been saved, but don’t be too sad, there will be another chance…” I touched my belly, and my tears finally burst out uncontrollably. I took out my phone and sent my dad a message. 【Dad, I don’t want to wait anymore, come pick me up today.】 I completed the discharge procedures, called a cab, and went back to get my luggage. As soon as I reached the door of my home, I saw Lucas getting out of a car. When he saw me, his brows knitted tightly, and he strode over and grabbed my wrist. “Where did you go? I’ve been looking for you all morning.” “Do you know that this makes people worry?” The Strawberry Bear bracelet on Lucas’s wrist jingled with his movements. I looked at the worry for me written all over his face, and I thought of the Lucas who had abandoned me to care about Sophie. Suddenly, I could not tell which one was the real Lucas. “I’m fine.” I pulled my hand free from his and walked into the house with no expression. Lucas froze, and his face darkened. “Nina Sterling, it’s been a whole night, and you’re still throwing a tantrum?” He seemed to have run out of patience, walked over, and grabbed my shoulders. “I already said that other than the title of wife, I can give you anything you want.” “You don’t need to fight Sophie over this, because it’s just a marriage license.” “Having two wives isn’t impossible.” I looked at his certain face. He had decided that all my unhappiness was because he did not marry me. He thought I was just being jealous. He believed that after so many years of feelings between us, I would never bear to leave him. My phone rang once, and it was Dad. I lowered my head and looked. 【Nina, Mr. Finch will pick you up in an hour.】 I looked at his face and laughed softly in calm. “Okay.” I was leaving anyway. I did not care about any of this anymore, and I did not want to waste words arguing with him. When Lucas saw my smile, he let out a breath of relief. He thought I had finally figured it out. He kissed my forehead gently. “That’s my good girl, and the coach from the boxing match has arranged a celebration party for me tonight, so stay home like a good girl.” “I’ll take Sophie with me, and I’ll come back once the socializing is over.” Lucas nodded with satisfaction. He got into the car, and the exhaust sprayed all over my face. A call came into my phone from Attorney Carter. 4 “Hello, Miss Sterling, I have a lead regarding the matter about your mother that you asked me to investigate last time.” “I’m at the coffee shop, and I’ll send you the address.” “Really? I’ll head over right now.” My dad was a giant in the business world, and countless rivals watched him closely. They could not do anything to my dad, so they turned their aim toward my mom. They bought smear stories claiming that my mom was the mistress who seduced my dad, and they even released evidence. Public opinion online turned completely against my mom. She was born into a scholarly family, and after being cyberbullied until her mind fell apart, she could not take it anymore and finally took her own life. Even now, the real person behind it all had never been found. This had always been the thorn in my heart, and five years ago, I contacted Attorney Carter. Now, there was finally a lead. I walked toward the coffee shop full of hope. But as soon as I walked into the coffee shop, I saw Lucas and Sophie on the couch in the corner. His group of friends was there too. “We drank too much, so we came out for some air.” “Hey, Sophie, I heard Lucas say that Nina’s mom used to be a mistress?” “Isn’t her family super poor? If she lives off Lucas, how could her dad have money to keep a mistress?” One of Lucas’s friends asked. Sophie let out a soft scoff, as if she was too embarrassed to say it. “I’m not sure, but that’s what Lucas told me too, and I heard she ended up jumping off a building…” Laughter broke out all around them. “Then doesn’t that mean Nina inherited her mom’s legacy, hahaha!” “Hey, Lucas, isn’t that right?” A wave of teasing surged over. I looked at Lucas, expecting to hear his explanation. But Lucas had his arm around Sophie’s shoulders, and when he heard that, he only gave a soft laugh. He did not deny it. That heart-rending rage surged into my chest. I still remembered when I cried and told Lucas about all of this, and he held me with heartache and swore. “Nina, from now on, I’ll protect you in your mother’s place.” “I believe your mom was definitely not that kind of person, and we’ll investigate together and find the truth for your mom.” The vows from the past were still vivid in my mind. But now, he had actually taken the deepest thorn in my heart and told it to others as a joke. Sophie was even laughing at my mom without restraint with everyone else over there. A sky-high rage surged up inside me. I picked up a cup of coffee and rushed straight over. Then I splashed it hard in her face. “Ah!” Sophie screamed and threw herself into Lucas’s arms. Before I could raise my hand to hit Lucas, he suddenly stood up and shoved me hard. My waist hit the corner of the table behind me, and the wound that had not yet healed began bleeding again. “Nina Sterling, what the hell is wrong with you?” He looked at me angrily. I lay on the floor and felt as if my whole body had been torn apart. With red eyes, I gritted my teeth and asked him. “Why did you slander my mom with them?” When he noticed my pale face, he froze for a moment, and guilt flashed through his eyes. “I…” Just as he was about to say something, Sophie cried out from his arms. “Lucas, my eyes hurt, and I think coffee got in them, so am I going to go blind…” Lucas could no longer care about me, and he picked her up in his arms and went to the hospital. His friends looked at me with sneers. “A mistress still wants to hit the real girlfriend, how shameless!” When I came out of the coffee shop, it was pouring rain outside. The Sterling family car had stopped at the entrance according to the location I sent. A bodyguard got out and opened the car door. “Miss, please get in.” …… After Lucas accompanied Sophie through the examination and confirmed that nothing was wrong with her eyes, he thought of my pale face at the coffee shop and could not help feeling a little worried. “What happened this afternoon was too impulsive of you, and since you only hurt Sophie because you were jealous, I won’t hold it against you.” “Are you feeling unwell? I’ll go with you for a checkup when I get home.” He hung up the phone and was just about to go home. Then several of his friends called. “Lucas, we saw Nina get picked up by a luxury car.” Lucas froze and spoke in shock. “What?”

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Every time one of the girls Carter messed around with showed up at my door, I would say the exact same thing: “Answer three questions for me. Get them right, and I’ll sign the divorce papers. You can have the title of Mrs. Sterling.” “Get them wrong, and you disappear. Or, I make you disappear.” They all thought they were the exception. But not a single one of them had ever gotten all three questions right. Until Carter personally brought that young girl and sat her down right in front of me. The girl squinted at me with a smug smile: “Hi. He doesn’t love you. Why don’t you just beat it?” “I really don’t want to get my hands dirty fighting an old woman.” I rested my chin on my hand and asked her the same three questions as always. She answered fast, and she got them wrong just as fast. But when my assistant, Maya, stepped forward to escort her out, I smiled and nodded: “Congratulations.” I slipped off my platinum wedding ring and slid it across the table: “As of today, I’m stepping down.”

Carter was standing just two steps behind her. A half-burned cigarette was pinched between his fingers. His brows furrowed slightly. He looked as if he hadn’t expected the words “stepping down” to actually come out of my mouth. “I got them right?” The girl’s smile was still plastered on her face, her brain failing to process what was happening. I shook my head. “You got every single one wrong.” She blinked. Her eyes were bright, but filled with insolence: “Didn’t you say I had to get them right for you to leave?” “Wait, is it because…” Her hand slowly drifted down, resting over her flat stomach. “You know you can’t compete with me anymore?” My gaze followed her movement, landing on her flat belly. Last winter, I found a photo on Carter’s phone. In the neon-lit VIP room of a private club, a young girl was leaning heavily on his shoulder. He had explained it away easily: “She’s just a business partner’s daughter. We had a drink.” Then, he had pinned me against the sofa. “Evelyn, you are the only Mrs. Sterling I will ever have in this lifetime. The others? They’re just toys.” “I would never let them carry my child. You don’t have to worry about that, okay?” … Another empty promise, as expected. The platinum band scraped against my knuckle, feeling uncomfortably tight. I had worn it for seven years. It had left a deep, pale indentation in my skin. I placed the ring on the glass table. Hailey glanced at the ring, her lips curling upward. “Are you really taking it off?” “Look, if you don’t want to give him up, don’t. Making such a dramatic scene is just embarrassing.” Carter lowered his hand, letting the cigarette ash fall onto the dark hardwood floor. “Are you done throwing your tantrum?” he asked, his voice laced with impatience. I stood up, grabbed my coat from the back of the chair, and walked right past him. “Evelyn,” Carter called out. I stopped. He walked up behind me, spun me around by the shoulder, and gripped my chin with his thumb and forefinger. He wasn’t looking at his wife. He was looking at a subordinate who had suddenly stopped obeying orders. “The door is right there. Walking out is easy,” he said, his voice dropping. “But walking back in is hard. Think carefully.” I looked down at his hand. His fingers were long and well-defined, his skin warm. I had held this hand for seven years. I had been terrified of letting it go. From the early days of his startup when he stayed up all night rewriting business proposals, to the day Sterling Group went public. From his very first affair to this young girl who had finally broken my spirit. For seven years, after every fight, every silent treatment, and every time I slammed the door and left, I was always the one who crawled back. He only ever had to stand in place and wait. Wait for me to calm down. Wait for me to swallow my own humiliation and pretend nothing happened. He knew I suffered from severe codependency. He knew I was emotionally paralyzed without him. To avoid losing him, I had spent years playing the fool. But now, all the strength had drained out of me. I gently pulled away from his grip. “I’ve thought it through.” He stared at me for a few seconds, then suddenly spoke: “Then lay it out. Make it make sense.” “What do you want me to say?” “Those three questions. She got them all wrong. Why are you giving up your spot?” I lowered my eyes. This was the first time he had ever demanded an explanation. But at this point, this conversation, those three questions—none of it mattered anymore. I let out a dry laugh. “Well, I can’t exactly let your baby be born illegitimate, can I?” He froze. “Just because of that?” “Yes,” I nodded. “Just because of that.” Even though it was just a wild guess based on her rubbing her stomach to show off. But at least, it was a clean, undeniable reason to end this. The man looked down, taking a slow drag of his cigarette. The crease between his brows smoothed out. Now that he had a logical explanation, he didn’t mind acting generous: “You’re being much more sensible than I expected.” “I’ll give you the estate upstate. Move there first.” “Hailey needs a quiet place to take care of the pregnancy, and you’ll get some peace and quiet over there. I’ll come visit you whenever I have time.” I said nothing, turned around, and walked out. Behind me, the girl’s high-pitched, whiny voice drifted through the door: “Carter, what did she mean by that? Those questions were so simple. I’m so smart, how could I have gotten them wrong?” “And I don’t want people saying I only got to be with you because of the baby!” The man let out a low, indulgent chuckle. He pinched her nose playfully. “How about the baby got to be born rich because of you? Does that work?” Amidst her giggles, my hand gripped the brass doorknob. The cold air of the hallway hit my face. My heart went entirely numb.

My assistant, Maya, came running out, catching up to me right at the elevator. Her face was pale with anxiety. “Evelyn, what is going on?” “That Hailey girl was just guessing randomly! Why did you let her win?” Let her win? I had never been winning in the first place. How could I talk about losing? Seeing my silence, she lowered her voice even more. “She’s just a homewrecker. She’s loud-mouthed, and we don’t even know if she’s actually pregnant.” I pressed the elevator button. “Then you’re giving her too much credit. She’s not even the third party.” I couldn’t even count which number she was anymore. After all, at least ten girls had come to find me directly. As for the ones who hadn’t? Who knew? “Evelyn…” She took a step closer. “If you leave, then Carter—” “He has Hailey now,” I said simply. In the future, this highly sought-after, exhausting position of Mrs. Sterling belonged to her. The elevator doors slid open, and I stepped inside. I closed my eyes, trying to fight off the suffocating waves of anxiety crashing over my chest. I remembered the day he confessed his love to me seven years ago. He had said, “Evelyn, I’m never letting you go. You’re stuck with me for life.” Back then, he had jumped into a street fight with some thugs to protect me, ending up with a broken nose. His face had been covered in blood. I had been crying hysterically, screaming for help. But even while lying on the dirty asphalt, he had smiled at me and whispered, “Don’t cry, babe. I’m okay.” Our love had been a beautiful, consuming wildfire. We dated, we got married, we built a business empire together from scratch. But then, my parents were killed in a horrific car crash. On that exact day, I developed a severe psychological trauma response: Severe Codependency Disorder. At my worst, my obsession with Carter was borderline pathological. If he went on a three-day business trip, I would suffer from insomnia for three days straight. If his phone died and I couldn’t reach him, my anxiety would spiral so wildly that I would knock on his coworkers’ doors in the middle of the night. Whenever he didn’t reply to my texts, I couldn’t sit still. My mind would scream on a loop: He’s leaving you. He doesn’t want you anymore. If he didn’t come home, I would turn on every single light in the penthouse and sit on the couch, staring at the door until sunrise. In those early days of the company, no matter how swamped he was, he would always text me to check in. He never spent a night away. Even on business trips, he would catch a 2 AM flight just to come back and hold me. He used to tell me, “Don’t worry, Evelyn. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” But later, I heard rumors about his beautiful new secretary, Ashley. After she accompanied him on a few major project trips, the entire company started whispering about how “compatible” they were. I heard she stayed late with him in his office every night, and they frequently went out for late-night dinners. I heard he picked out expensive birthday gifts for her and took her to watch private firework displays. Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore. I went to see the girl. The very next day, Ashley jumped from the office roof. Even though the police investigation cleared me of any wrongdoing, and even though I swore to Carter that I had only talked to her… the way Carter looked at me changed forever. To please him, I begged him, “Let me be your secretary. I know the company better than anyone, and I know you.” He agreed. I went to work with him every day and came home with him every night. I followed him like a shadow. Some people joked behind my back that I was like a leech, but I just smiled and ignored them. But then, I found a receipt in his suit pocket. A high-end jewelry boutique. A pair of diamond earrings. Eighty-three thousand dollars. My ears weren’t pierced. The gift wasn’t for me. After days of agonizing, I chose not to ask. He chose not to mention it. I knew that curing my dependency on him would be harder than trying to stop breathing. And he had grown utterly exhausted of the eyes watching his every move. One refused to let go, while the other desperately wanted to escape. We both pretended to be blind. I thought keeping up the charade would save us. But the women outside had been spoiled rotten by him. One after another, they began showing up at my office. They sat across from me, throwing proof in my face. Expensive gifts, wire transfer screenshots, promises of eternal love. Everything they had, I didn’t. Everything I had, they got too. My birthdays, our wedding anniversaries, holidays—the only thing he gave me was a rushed dinner before rushing off to his “meetings.” Those nights he claimed he was busy entertaining clients? They were spent in the arms of other women. So, those girls all believed they were the ones truly loved. They would ask me when I was going to pack my bags. My emotions went from rage, to terror, and finally, to complete numbness. I learned to ask those three questions. I listened to their answers, and then I escorted them out. I foolishly believed that as long as I got rid of them one by one, he would eventually come back to me for good. But the women kept coming. Each one younger, prettier, and more entitled than the last. Until Hailey. In seven years, he had never personally accompanied a girl to face me. He had finally brought his infidelity right out into the open. In that single instant, I finally understood. I wasn’t protecting a marriage. I was just guarding an empty desk.

The elevator hit the lobby, and the doors slid open. I walked out, crossed the polished marble floor, and pushed through the revolving doors. Standing on the steps outside, I pulled out my phone and sent Carter a text on Snapchat. [Tomorrow morning at 9:00 AM, meet me at the Family Court. We’re filing for divorce.] The chat remained on “Read.” No reply. He was always like this. Whenever it came to things that didn’t benefit him—like losing half of his net worth in a divorce settlement—he chose to ignore it. But this marriage had reached a point where it had to end. The next morning at 8:30 AM, I arrived at the Family Court house early. Several young couples were waiting in line outside, their faces glowing with the sweet, naive hope of newlyweds. I walked past them and found a seat by the window. 9:15 AM. He didn’t show. I set my designer bag on the empty seat next to me and looked down at the pale indentation on my ring finger. The skin underneath was still strikingly white. Like a scar of my failure. Seven years of devotion, and all I had left to show for it was a blank space on my finger. Deep down, I knew he wouldn’t show up. But it didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was that I was done waiting. Just as I was about to stand up, a voice called out from above me: “Well, well. If it isn’t Mrs. Sterling?” I looked up and saw a heavily made-up face. Short, dark hair, wearing a low-cut black slip dress. I recognized her. She had cornered me last summer. Her name was Amber, a contemporary dancer. Carter had secretly funded several of her solo shows. She stood in front of me with her arms crossed. “What is the grand Mrs. Sterling doing here?” “Filing for divorce.” She blinked in shock, then let out a sharp laugh. “Divorce? Who actually got those three ridiculous questions right?” I shook my head. Her laughter faded, and she tilted her head, her eyes flashing with a strange, complicated expression. “You two are honestly the most bizarre couple I’ve ever met,” she said suddenly. “But Carter is on a whole different level of psycho.” “Back then, I asked him what those three questions of yours meant. I asked him if I really had to answer them correctly to be with him.” “Do you want to guess what he said?” She leaned in closer, whispering: “He said…” “Those questions are just a trap she set up to humiliate you guys. She’ll never give you the correct answer anyway.” She let out a scoff. “Turns out you two were just using us like circus monkeys for your little marriage games. Absolutely pathetic.” My hands clenched into tight fists over my knees. But I forced my face to remain perfectly serene. “When you accepted the half-million-dollar breakup settlement, you didn’t seem to think it was pathetic.” Amber’s face stiffened. She couldn’t find a single word to fire back. I threw my bag over my shoulder and walked right past her. When I pushed open the heavy glass doors of the courthouse, the sky outside had turned a gloomy gray. I slumped onto a public bench by the street. My fingers had started violently trembling. My therapist had warned me that under extreme stress, my dependency disorder would trigger severe physical withdrawal symptoms. Trembling, heart palpitations, hyperventilation… I gripped the strap of my bag, digging my fingernails into my palms, forcing myself to count. “One, two, three, four…” My heart was hammering against my ribs. Cold sweat broke out across my back. My vision started going dark. I knew this was the withdrawal. I pulled my knees to my chest and buried my face in them. It felt like an invisible hand was squeezing my lungs. I wanted so badly to call him. I knew that if he just said one kind word, the pain would stop instantly. He doesn’t want me anymore. The thought screamed in my head, making my skull throb. I forced myself to rewrite the narrative: No. I don’t want him anymore! I pulled out my phone and dialed a different number. “Dr. Evans, it’s me,” my voice was shaking violently. “You said there was a treatment that could completely cure my codependency… that could decouple my trauma triggers.” He hesitated on the line. “Yes, Evelyn. But that method is highly extreme. It could cause…” “I want to do it. Now.”

Inside the VIP lounge of a private club, Carter was sitting in the center of the plush leather sofa. He was swirling a glass of neat Macallan. A guy with a buzz cut leaned over: “Man, how is it so quiet today, Carter? Your wife hasn’t spammed your Snapchat with fifty calls yet?” Carter’s childhood friend, Mason, chimed in with a smirk: “Hey, I heard she wanted you to meet her at the family court today? Is she actually trying to divorce you?” “She’s just putting on a show,” Jax, the buzz-cut guy, sneered. “Guys like us, our wives have to beg us to come home. Carter goes home every single night. What more does she want?” “Exactly,” another guy at the poker table agreed. “She hit the jackpot marrying a guy with your net worth. Divorce? She literally can’t survive without you.” The guys laughed, throwing in their two cents, the atmosphere growing louder. Carter didn’t say a word. He just threw his head back and downed the whiskey. He was purposely ignoring her today. Responding meant giving in. Giving in meant admitting her divorce threat actually carried weight. He wasn’t going to play her game. The heavy door of the lounge was pushed open, and Hailey poked her head in. Her eyes were red. “Carter, my stomach hurts a little.” Carter stood up immediately. He set his empty glass on the coffee table and walked over to support her arm. “What’s wrong?” The guys at the table started whistling and teasing: “Whoa, look at that. I’ve never seen Carter look this stressed before.” “Well, Hailey’s got the golden ticket in her belly.” “Healthy mom, healthy heir…” Mason tapped his cigarette against the ashtray, looking at Carter, and lowered his voice: “Man, your wife is seriously obsessed. Last year, my girlfriend was waiting for me downstairs and ran into her. Evelyn interrogated her for thirty minutes asking where you were.” “I used to think she was just crazy, but damn, she actually is clinically insane.” The table erupted into laughter. “Alright, stop talking. Her call is going to blow up his phone any second. Are we playing poker or what?” “Of course we are,” Jax said, shuffling the deck and slamming it on the table. “I bet fifty bucks she calls within thirty minutes.” “I bet an hour.” “Two hours. Carter said her record during a silent treatment is one day. Don’t underestimate her obsession.” Carter helped Hailey sit down on the sofa. Instinctively, his eyes drifted toward his phone on the coffee table. The screen remained black. He handed Hailey a tissue and looked back at the table. “Just play.” The game began. Chips clinked as they were pushed across the green felt. Laughter and cursing filled the room. Three hours passed, and the game was winding down. Mason stretched his arms, glancing at the coffee table. “Wait, something’s off. It’s been over three hours. Not a single call from her?” Someone else laughed, “She probably spammed his texts instead. Open your Snapchat, Carter. I bet there are fifty unread messages.” Carter didn’t reply. He reached out, grabbed his phone, and tapped the screen. But the most recent message in the chat was still the one she had sent yesterday morning: [I’m here. When are you getting here?] His brows knit together. The men at the table looked at each other. “No way… literally nothing?” The room went dead silent for a moment. Suddenly, a phone vibrated. It belonged to Leo, Carter’s driver. He answered, listened for a second, and walked over to Carter. “Mr. Sterling, it’s for you. It’s urgent.” Jax’s eyes lit up. “See! I told you! There she is!” The others started laughing again. Someone threw their cards on the table. “Damn, I lost the one-hour bet. I’ll Venmo you.” The corner of Carter’s mouth twitched upward into a confident, lazy smirk. He crossed his legs and took the phone from Leo. But the moment he heard the voice on the other end, his smirk vanished. “What did you say?” Carter froze, his hand tightening around the phone. The guys were still joking. “What’s the verdict? Is she crying? Is she begging you to come home?” “Her codependency must have triggered an attack. She’s probably hysterical.” Carter slowly lowered the phone from his ear. His knuckles were white. He turned to Leo, his voice cold: “Take Hailey home.” Hailey, who had been looking smug a second ago, gasped. “Carter? Where are you going? I want you to take me!” “Go home.” It was a flat, icy command. Without looking at her again, Carter grabbed his coat and stormed out of the club. The moment he arrived at his corporate headquarters, he marched straight to the front desk. “Did a delivery arrive for me?” The receptionist stammered, startled by his intensity. “Y-yes, Mr. Sterling. A courier named Ethan Hayes left a package for you about ten minutes ago.” He snatched the manila envelope from her hand and ripped it open. The words PETITION FOR DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE glared back at him. His hands went numb.

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The eighth time I caught him cheating, Ethan didn’t say a word. He calmly grabbed a bottle of concentrated bleach and poured it directly over his crotch. “Is this enough?” His face was deathly pale. He looked at me through the mess on the floor as if he were looking at a psycho. This was the first time in his life Ethan had ever shown weakness to me. I stood frozen, clutching a sharp piece of broken porcelain, suddenly feeling completely lost. After all, during our worst fight, I had strapped a bomb to myself and his little mistress, forcing him to choose between us. He responded by tying himself and my parents to five trucks connected end-to-end. He had smiled and asked me if I still wanted him to choose. That was our decade of mutual madness. No choosing. No backing down. No letting go. Now, he looked at me with pity, as if he found my state pathetic. “Leave Chloe alone. She’s normal. She’s not like you.” “I’ll take whatever revenge you want. This time, you can take it all out on me.” I froze. “What do you mean?” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. He pulled his lips back in a tired smirk. “It means I’m giving up.” “Are you happy? Isn’t this what you wanted?” Yes, he gave up. But for whom? The answer was obvious. The hatred in his eyes made my ten years of devotion look like a pathetic, one-sided joke. At that moment, a wave of pure exhaustion hit me. I finally wanted to let us both go.

While I was lost in thought, the porcelain shard slipped and sliced my wrist. Blood instantly gushed out. An annoyed look of “here we go again” flashed across Ethan’s face. He stared at me for a few seconds, then suddenly strode over, grabbed me, and threw me into the bathtub with no expression. The ice-cold water soaked through my clothes. The moment I realized what he was doing, I began to struggle frantically. “Ethan! I’m pregn—” “Shut up,” he growled, cutting off my words brutally. He pinned my wrists above my head, staring down at me for a few seconds. His eyes were filled with disgust. “Didn’t you drug me just to get me into bed? Was my performance not enough to satisfy you?” I froze in disbelief, a sense of absolute absurdity washing over me. I don’t know where I got the strength, but I broke free from his grip. I grabbed whatever was near me and threw it at him like crazy. “Get out! Get the hell out!” He didn’t dodge. He took the hits numbly, as if he were already used to it. When I finished venting, he wiped the blood dripping from his forehead. Without a shred of warmth, he walked away. “I recovered the videos you secretly recorded. Whether you want to send them to the media or plaster them all over the city’s billboards, go ahead.” “The files you used to stalk and threaten me are on the flash drive on the desk. Do whatever you want with them.” He assumed I wouldn’t let this go, so he laid out all the ways I could ruin him. Because those, at least, were consequences he could handle. He was afraid of me. This realization made me laugh until tears came out. “Ethan, then why don’t you just divorce me?” His footsteps stopped at the doorway. He seemed to find it hilarious. “Would you even agree?” “Scarlett, I’ve accepted that I’m stuck with you for life.” The last shred of hope in my heart shattered. “Just please, leave Chloe alone.” Those words, followed by the deafening slam of the door, made my head spin for a long time. This was the third time I had heard Ethan say the word “please.” The first time was when we were eighteen. His billionaire father had his private security guards beat him bloody to force him to break up with me. He was bruised and battered, but he just wiped the blood from his mouth and said, “I’m marrying Scarlett. Please, disown me or beat me to death. I don’t care.” The second time was during my postpartum depression. He had rushed onto the rooftop, dragging me back just as I had one foot over the edge. He was shaking all over. “We can have another baby! Please don’t leave me! If you jump, I’ll jump with you right now!” And this was the third time. Only this time, he was begging me to spare Chloe. My lips curled into a bitter smile. Tears mixed with the blood dripping into the tub. Shaking, I reached for my phone, but my finger accidentally swiped the emergency contact. I thought no one would answer, just like always. Just as I was about to hang up, Chloe’s voice drifted through the speaker. “Ethan, a cold shower will make you sick… let me help you.” Ethan’s muffled voice came through, mixed with the sound of running water. “No. I don’t want to hurt our baby. Or you.” Chloe paused, a hint of a smug smile in her tone. “Then why don’t you go find Scarlett?”

Without waiting for his answer, I hung up. I didn’t need to hear the rest to know Ethan’s reply wouldn’t be pretty. After all, the last time, I really had drugged him. After that wild, disastrous night, the way he looked at me was cold enough to pierce my soul. Yet, I had still naively hoped that if we had another baby, maybe we could start over. And now… I touched my flat stomach, feeling like a complete joke. After a while, I dragged myself out of the tub. Then, I texted my lawyer and told him to draft a divorce agreement. Once that was done, I leaned against the headboard, feeling completely empty inside. When Ethan came home at 11 PM, he acted as if nothing had happened. He carried a shopping bag containing a necklace I had casually mentioned a few weeks ago. Come to think of it, he had been extremely good to me this past year. He reported his whereabouts proactively, took me to every business dinner, and bought me countless designer bags and jewelry. If I hadn’t run into him at the hospital last week, holding Chloe’s hand at her prenatal checkup… I would have believed our love had reignited. I never would have guessed that his kindness was just a calculated move to protect Chloe from me. While I was lost in thought, the gift box was pushed in front of me. His voice was calm, showing no emotion whatsoever. “I went to Chloe’s place this afternoon. I only took a shower and left. It took thirty minutes. You can ask your private investigator if you don’t believe me.” “After that, I was working overtime at the office. If you’re suspicious, ask your spies in the company.” “On the way home, I bought the necklace you wanted. I didn’t go anywhere else. The paparazzi you hired should have sent you the photos by now.” Every word was cautious and formal, as if I were some terrifying monster. Even though he had already bribed my people and turned them into Chloe’s secret bodyguards… He was still on guard against me. My heart ached, but I couldn’t help but laugh. “Is that so?” If Chloe hadn’t added me on Snapchat this afternoon, I actually would have believed him. I slid my phone over. The screen displayed a stream of photos Chloe had sent me. Ethan cooking. Ethan mopping the floor. Even Ethan clumsily picking out baby clothes. Over three hundred photos, from every angle. It was a side of Ethan I had never seen. In my memory, Ethan never did chores. Even when the maid took a week off, he wouldn’t even notice if we ran out of toilet paper. I stared at those photos for a long time. I had truly lost this ten-year game. The last photo, showing his back as he walked away, was taken thirty minutes ago. The lie shattered instantly. The moment Ethan saw the screen, his pupils dilated. He slammed me against the wall, his hand gripping my throat. He spat out every word through gritted teeth: “Did I not tell you to keep your hands off Chloe?” “You can do whatever the hell you want to me, but not her!” My lower abdomen throbbed with sharp pain. My face turned pale, but he didn’t notice. Looking at his frantic state, I smirked mockingly. “As long as I don’t touch her, I can do whatever I want to you?” I shoved him away with all my might, grabbed the red wine bottle from the table, and held it threateningly over his head. He froze for a second. Then, he let out a sigh of relief and closed his eyes. “Smash it if you want.” When he opened his eyes again, his gaze drifted past me. He looked exhausted, not even wanting to look at me. “It’s not the first time anyway.” “Once you’re done venting, just don’t go after Chloe.” I stood there, bottle raised, suddenly feeling like everything was incredibly meaningless. I set the bottle down and took my phone back from his hand. The moment my finger touched the screen, his face twisted in panic. He grabbed my wrist tightly. “What are you sending your people to do to Chloe now?!” He used so much force that the momentum threw me backward. I stumbled and fell hard onto the floor. My vision went black for a moment before I could recover. I looked up at him. His chest rose and fell, his face pale with fear. He really loved Chloe to death. He loved her so much that even my normal breathing made him defensive, terrified that I would hurt her. I smiled bitterly. “Ethan, actually, I already…” The special ringtone he set for Chloe cut me off. His hand, which had been reaching out to help me up, froze. Without hesitation, he pulled out his phone. Chloe’s crying voice leaked through the speaker. His expression darkened instantly. When he looked back at me, his eyes were dripping with disgust and warning. “Scarlett, as long as I’m alive, I won’t let you touch a single hair on Chloe.” “If you want to drag us both to hell, don’t blame me for being ruthless.” The door slammed shut so fast. It was so fast that I didn’t even get to finish my sentence. I sat there in silence, then let out a soft laugh. I wanted to say… Actually, I already signed the divorce papers. They’ll be delivered tomorrow morning. I’ve decided to let you go, and let myself go. But now, it seems there’s no need to say anything at all.

I was rushed to the hospital in an ambulance. The four-month-old baby couldn’t be saved. Coupled with the fall and the stress from my fight with Ethan, the hemorrhage came with no warning. As I was wheeled into the emergency room on a gurney, I passed Ethan, who was carrying Chloe in his arms. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing the messy scars on his forearms. I felt a sudden pang of irony. Years ago, during my postpartum depression, Ethan had cut himself dozens of times just to force me to stop hurting myself. Back then, his love was even crazier than mine. Later, when he cheated on me seven times, I self-harmed, lost my mind, and tried every trick in the book. But he would always find a more ruthless way to hurt himself, forcing me to back down. We were like two toxic, extreme gamblers, betting our own lives against each other. We were exactly the same. But this time, why was it different? Before I could figure it out, Ethan had already carried Chloe to the doctor. “Doctor! Save her! Her stomach hurts, check her now!” The doctor pushed him away anxiously. “Move! It’s just stress! Can’t you see Scarlett is in critical condition?!” Ethan’s eyes followed the doctor’s hand. The moment he recognized me, he froze. The next second, he grabbed my wrist, his eyes burning with fury. “Scarlett, is this your new trick?” “First you leak Chloe’s photos to stress her out, forcing me to bring her to the nearest private clinic—which happens to be yours. And now you’re faking a medical emergency to delay her treatment?” He sneered. “A perfect trap. You really are something!” I had already lost too much blood. His rough grip made my vision fade. The doctor was horrified. “What do you mean faking?! She’s hemorrhaging because she was preg—” His words were cut off by the heavy thud of Ethan’s knees hitting the floor. “Is this enough? Can Chloe be treated now?” I stared at him. The man kneeling before me looked nothing like the proud Ethan who would rather die than bend his spine. Seeing me silent, he knelt there, staring at me with eyes full of hatred. “What about now?” Looking into his eyes, I finally understood… He was forcing me. He was betting on my love for him, using himself as leverage to win the game, just like he did a thousand times before. Only this time, it was for another woman. My chest felt so tight I could barely breathe. I couldn’t tell if it was the blood loss or the heartbreak. “Fine… fine…” his voice shook. Suddenly, he pulled a pocket knife from his pocket and plunged it straight into his own chest. Blood bloomed across his shirt instantly. He groaned, his voice turning desperate and broken. “Scarlett, I yield. Do whatever you want to me, take my life…” All the warmth left my body. I closed my eyes. “Ethan, what if I’m not faking? What if I’m actually dying today?” He didn’t hesitate. “I’ll die with you.” I knew he meant it. But that was why I felt so utterly defeated. I forced a weak smile and looked at the doctor. “Save her first.” I was the majority shareholder of this private clinic. If Ethan hadn’t been completely panicked, he would never have risked bringing Chloe here. Hearing this, Ethan let out a sigh of relief. His tears hit the floor. As he stood up, his voice was raspy. “Thank you.” Such a foreign word. Just like the stranger he had become. Before I blacked out… I saw Chloe peeking over his shoulder. She looked at me and smirked. It was the smug, triumphant smile of a winner.

During my week of hospitalization, Ethan stayed in the VIP suite right next door to take care of Chloe. I listened to the intimate whispers coming through the wall. As I stared blankly out the window, my doctor knocked and walked in. “Scarlett, the lab results are back. Chloe’s baby is not a match to Ethan.” I kept my eyes on the window, not even reaching for the paper. “Throw it away. His life has nothing to do with me anymore.” When I passed Chloe’s room, Ethan was gently feeding her soup. To be honest, that gentle, clumsy side of Ethan was something I had never been given. My hand hovered over the doorknob. In the end, I didn’t knock. I just left the signed divorce papers with the nurse to hand to him. Then, I went straight to the airport and left the country without looking back. … Ethan hadn’t been sleeping well lately. He knew me too well. My obsession with him was bordering on psychotic. Now that we had completely ruined each other, he was certain I would go after Chloe. So he deployed all his security. He blocked all local media, terrified that some scandal would stress Chloe out. He kept bodyguards stationed all around the clinic to ensure Chloe could leave safely. He even prepared blackmail material to use against me if I pushed him. I had no doubt that if my parents hadn’t died in a plane crash three years ago, he would have kidnapped them to use as leverage against me. He was ready to burn everything down. Yet, I had only glanced at them through the window and left. This made him incredibly uneasy all day. He checked his Snapchat. The chat box, which used to be spammed with my endless demands for his location, had been dead silent for days. He locked his phone, feeling a strange, hollow emptiness. That feeling peaked when he finally tucked Chloe in and rushed back to our penthouse. Everything belonging to me was gone. Every single piece of jewelry and gift he had ever given me was smashed to pieces on the floor. Anger flared up. He swallowed his pride and sent me a Snapchat message. When the red exclamation mark popped up, showing he was blocked, he froze. He rushed back to the clinic. The doctor stopped him at the entrance, looking relieved as he handed him a folder. “Ethan, thank goodness you’re here. We need your signature on these files for Scarlett and Chloe.” Ethan held back his irritation and glanced at them. The next second, all the color drained from his face.

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On the day I went with Carter Davis for our pre-wedding health checkup, the nurse looked up from her clipboard and gave him a second glance. “Carter? Weren’t you just here last week?” He paused for a microsecond, then smiled warmly. “You must have me confused with someone else.” On the way back, he squeezed my hand. “We’re getting our marriage license at City Hall next month. Nervous?” “A little,” I said. The next day, I took a half-day off and went back to the clinic. I didn’t book an appointment. I just walked straight to the reception desk and asked one question. “My fiancé was here last week. What department did he visit?” The nurse looked at me, hesitating for a long time. Finally, she uttered two words: “OB-GYN.” I stood in the clinic lobby. Outside, the sky was a brilliant, mocking blue. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Carter: “Booked the wedding photoshoot for Saturday. What style do you like?” I swiped the notification away and opened the City Hall appointment portal. I clicked “Cancel”. The system flashed a prompt: “Please state your reason for cancellation.” I typed in: “The groom has already started a new family with someone else.”

“Why didn’t you reply to my texts today?” Carter’s voice came through the receiver, carrying his usual, perfectly measured tone of concern. I had been sitting on the plastic bench in the clinic lobby for forty minutes. The seat was ice-cold, and the metal armrest behind my back felt even colder. “My phone was on silent. I didn’t notice.” “Where are you? It sounds noisy.” “Just at the mall, walking around.” He let out a soft chuckle. “Buy whatever you want. I’ll transfer you the money on PayPal.” “Okay,” I said. After hanging up, I placed the phone screen-down on my lap. The lobby speakers kept announcing numbers, calling patient after patient to various departments. I listened for forty minutes. I didn’t hear the word “OB-GYN” again, but those letters were already burned into my brain. OB-GYN. I started tracing back through our relationship. Nine months ago, we met on a blind date set up by our families. Carter was eight minutes late. The moment he sat down, he ordered a hot Americano for me. He said, “I saw on your Instagram that you posted a latte with foam art. It’s ninety-six degrees today, so you probably wanted an iced coffee. But drinking iced coffee on a first date might seem too casual. So, hot Americano is the perfect compromise.” At the time, I thought he was incredibly observant. Now, I realized he wasn’t observant—he was just calculating. Three months into dating, he took me to meet his parents. His mother, Eleanor, looked at me over the dinner table not as a future daughter-in-law, but like a customer comparing two similar brands on a supermarket shelf. She said something that stayed with me: “Carter has always been independent. I don’t interfere with his choices.” The emphasis was on the word “choices”. A choice, not love. I thought I was being paranoid back then. But sitting on this hard clinic bench, I finally understood—she was telling me that I was just a choice he made, but I wasn’t necessarily the only one. My phone buzzed again. Carter sent a three-second voice message. I tapped it. He said with a warm smile, “I miss you.” Three words. His tone was as steady as if he had rehearsed it a thousand times. I locked my phone, stood up, and walked out of the clinic. I took an Uber home. The first thing I did when I got back was open the jewelry box on my nightstand. My Nana’s diamond earrings were still there. They were clip-ons because Nana always said, “Earlobes sag when you get old. Clip-ons can be taken off anytime.” I clenched the earrings in my palm. The metal clips dug into my skin, causing a dull ache. Then, I made a decision—I wouldn’t confront him yet. Not because I was hesitating, but because I needed to figure out one thing. In this relationship, who exactly was I? Was I really his fiancée, or just a prop in someone else’s story? At 7:00 PM, Carter arrived. He brought takeout and a bouquet of baby’s breath. He never showed up empty-handed. “You’re quiet today,” he said, looking at me while unpacking the food. “Toothache.” “Then don’t smile too big during the photoshoot on Saturday. I don’t want you in pain.” He transitioned seamlessly, his expression tender and his logic flawless. I kept my head down, my fork hovering over a piece of steak for half a second. “How do you always have the perfect response to everything?” “Because you don’t even have to think about the words you say. They are like pre-packaged meals. You just heat them up and serve them.” When he went to take a shower, I picked up his phone. There was no passcode. He was confident enough not to set one—not because he had no secrets, but because he was absolutely certain I would never snoop. Three chats were pinned at the top of his iMessage: me, his mom, and someone named “Audrey.” The last message from Audrey was sent at 2:00 PM today: “The checkup went well. The baby is healthy. Waiting for you.” It was accompanied by an ultrasound photo. I scrolled up. Audrey’s profile picture was a side profile of a girl with a tiny mole on her collarbone. There were too many messages, so I only scrolled through the past month. Within three minutes, I discovered three things. She called him “babe,” and he called her “my sweet Audrey.” The way they talked was completely different from how he talked to me—it was softer, more casual, more genuine. Three days ago, he had texted her: “Just wait a little longer. I’ll break it off with her right after the wedding photoshoot.” “Her.” I was that “her.” The sound of running water continued in the bathroom. I took screenshots of three key conversations, emailed them to myself, deleted the screenshots and the sent mail trail, and placed the phone back exactly where it was. By the time he came out, I was curled up on the sofa watching a home renovation show. “What do you think of this color palette? We should do our house like this.” “Looks great,” he said, smiling as he rubbed his wet hair with a towel. I smiled back.

“Why isn’t the bride smiling?” The makeup artist’s hand hovered over my cheek, her brush coated in blush. I said, “Just keep it natural, please.” In the mirror, I looked ethereal in my simple white lace gown. I had opted out of the tiara and the long train. Carter was next to me, changing into a grey suit. The collar was perfectly pressed. He walked over, wrapped his arms around my waist, rested his chin on my head, and gave the camera a warm, picture-perfect smile. The photographer smiled. “The groom is very photogenic.” Of course he was. He had practice. During the break, an assistant casually mentioned while packing up a light stand, “Mr. Davis, do you want to try the same lighting style from your last shoot? I still have the angles saved.” Carter’s face went stiff for a split second. Just a split second. Then he laughed it off. “You must have me confused with someone else. This is my first time here.” The assistant looked confused but was quickly pulled away by the photographer. Carter turned to me, his expression as natural as if nothing had happened. “Tired? Want some water?” “I’m fine,” I replied. When he went to change into his next suit, I found the assistant. “What kind of photos did he take here last time?” The assistant hesitated for two seconds. “Maternity photos… I think it was for his sister? He said she was his sister. The girl had a pretty big bump already.” “Thank you,” I said, walking back to the shooting area. Carter was already changed. He was wearing the same grey suit—I recognized it now. He was wearing this exact suit in the ultrasound photo. Same brand, probably the exact same one. “Come on, last set,” he said, reaching his hand out to me. I walked over and stood by his side. The shutter clicked forty times. Every single time, his smile was mathematically precise. On the drive home, Carter kept his right hand resting on my knee. The car stereo was playing a slow R&B track from my playlist. He said, “This is a good song. Who recommended it?” “I found it myself.” “Ah.” I noticed his fingers tapping on my knee three times, but the rhythm was faster than the song playing. I recognized that beat from Audrey’s chat logs—he had sent her a song once, and the intro had that exact tempo. The music playing in his head wasn’t the one coming from my car speakers. That night, I washed off my makeup in the bathroom. In the mirror, my eyes looked a bit sunken, my cheekbones more prominent. In nine months of living in a fake relationship, I had lost six pounds. My phone buzzed. Carter had posted a grid of nine wedding photos on Instagram. His caption read: “She said yes, and that’s all that matters.” The comment section exploded. Colleagues, friends, and distant relatives were all leaving congratulations. His mother liked the post and commented: “Finally.” I finally understood what those seven letters meant. She wasn’t waiting for me. She was waiting for someone who could play the part of the perfect wife so her son could fulfill his duty. I put down my phone and opened Carter’s old iPad. I had found it three days ago in a toolbox in his trunk. His secondary iMessage account was logged in, and he had only one contact: Audrey. Their Snapchat was filled with their daily life. Cooking together, shopping at local farmers’ markets, eating bagels outside the clinic after her prenatal checkup, and a candid photo of her sleeping on his shoulder. The latest post was from yesterday. The same day as our wedding photoshoot. After we finished shooting in the afternoon, he had gone to Audrey’s place in the evening. He had posted a picture of her hand resting on her pregnant belly. The caption was: “Waiting for you. These words are enough to get me through a lifetime.” I closed the iPad. I didn’t take any screenshots. I didn’t need any more evidence. What I needed was the right moment.

“Working late tonight, won’t make it over.” Carter’s iMessage voice memo was short. The background noise sounded like an office. I replied with a simple, “Okay.” Then, I did something I had never done before—I followed him. His car pulled out of his office garage, but he didn’t head toward his usual route. He turned left and stopped in front of a quiet, older apartment complex in the suburbs. I parked across the street and turned off the ignition. A warm yellow light was on on the third floor. The curtains had a floral pattern, and a potted ivy sat on the windowsill. He carried two grocery bags upstairs. His steps were light. When he reached the door, he didn’t knock; he used his own key to open it. That door didn’t require any ceremony for him because that was his real home. I stood downstairs for twenty minutes. The window on the third floor cast two silhouettes—one stirring something at the stove, the other sitting by the table with a hand on her belly. The one at the stove brought over a plate, sat down, and turned to say something. Both shadows were laughing. It wasn’t the secretive, tense laughter of an affair. It was just cooking, eating, talking, and laughing. A complete, mundane family routine. I was the outsider. When I walked down, I passed the mailboxes on the ground floor. The label for Unit 301 had two names written side-by-side in the same handwriting: “Carter Davis & Audrey Pearson.” In this apartment complex, they were an open couple. Only in front of me did this reality cease to exist. Back at my apartment, I took out the cherries Carter had brought over last week from the fridge. I washed a few and took a bite. They were sweet. I ate another one, still sweet. But I didn’t want to eat them anymore. Because in Audrey’s chat logs, she had written: “Babe brought home so many cherries today, we can’t even finish them.” He had bought two batches from the same store. I threw the rest of the cherries into the trash. I opened my laptop and created a new Excel sheet. On the left column, I wrote “Me & Carter.” On the right column, “Carter & Audrey.” I charted the dates precisely. For nine months, the two timelines ran in perfect parallel. Not a single day was missed. One date was highlighted in red: four months ago. My birthday. Carter had given me a necklace, took me out for sushi, and posted a picture of us smiling on Instagram. But on that very day, Audrey’s log showed he had accompanied her to her first major ultrasound at 3:00 PM. On my birthday, he went to see his unborn child first before coming over to blow out my candles. I recalled him being forty minutes late that night. When he walked in, his scarf smelled faintly of disinfectant. I had asked him about it, and he said he had stopped by a pharmacy to grab some cold medicine for a colleague. And I had believed him. Every time I trusted him, I was just signing off on my own stupidity. I scrolled to another date from two months ago. He had told me he was going on a three-day business trip. He sent me a selfie from a hotel room, writing, “Miss you, sleep tight.” But Audrey’s records showed he was in another state during those three days, meeting her parents. Audrey had posted a group photo. Carter was sitting at a round dining table, and the middle-aged couple opposite him were beaming. Her caption was: “Mom and Dad finally met you. Mom says you’re even handsomer in person.” He had met the parents on both sides. Both lines were moving forward. I closed my laptop, picked up my phone, and texted him: “The photos from Saturday are ready. Which ones do you want to select for the final edits?” Carter replied instantly: “You choose. I trust your taste.” He always knew the right thing to say. Always. I selected a photo of the two of us facing away from the camera—our faces completely obscured. I sent that one to the studio for final editing.

“Chloe, there’s something I want to talk to you about.” On Friday night, Carter came out of the shower, his wet hair messy as he sat on the sofa. He spoke slower than usual, as if he were carefully rehearsing every word. I set down my mug. He said, “I have a childhood friend named Audrey. She’s in a bit of a mess recently—she got pregnant, but the guy walked out on her. She’s all alone now with nowhere to stay. I was thinking of letting her crash at my old studio apartment for a while, the small one near my office.” He looked at me, his eyes clear, honest, and filled with a gentle plea. “Don’t worry, there’s nothing going on between us. I’m just trying to be a good friend.” If I didn’t know the truth, I would have said, “Of course, go ahead and help her.” I almost did. Instead, I smiled. “Sure, go ahead. Is there anything I can do to help?” He visibly relaxed and chuckled, reaching out to ruffle my hair. “No need. Just don’t overthink it, okay?” On Sunday, I “casually” suggested going over to his studio apartment to help clean up. “Since your friend is moving in, after all.” He hesitated for a second. “No need, I already cleaned it.” “You’re a guy, you probably missed some spots. Let me help you wipe down the windows.” He couldn’t find a way to refuse, so he agreed. When we got to the studio apartment, he had arrived thirty minutes ahead of me. The moment I walked in, I smelled three distinct scents: air freshener, laundry detergent, and a very faint trace of baby powder. The first two were meant to cover up the third. But the third had leaked through. I helped him wipe down the windows in the living room. As I bent down, my fingers brushed against the gap between the radiator and the wall. My fingertips touched something hard. I pulled it out. It was a diamond clip-on earring. I froze for three seconds. Last Wednesday, Carter had come over to my place. Before leaving, he said, “I put your jewelry box back in the cabinet. I accidentally knocked it over earlier.” I had checked it then—both earrings were there. But I had only glanced at them; I didn’t count them. I pulled out my phone and checked a photo of my jewelry box. Only one earring remained. He had stolen my Nana’s earring. I clutched the earring and walked into the bedroom. Carter was folding clothes. Seeing the expression on my face, he asked, “What’s wrong?” I opened my hand. The earring lay in the center of my palm, the diamond catching the light. “Care to explain this?” His expression went through three distinct phases: blankness, calculation, and then a practiced smile. “Oh, that? Audrey saw you wearing them once and thought they were beautiful. I told her I’d help her find a similar pair, so I borrowed one to show her the design. I meant to tell you, but it slipped my mind.” “Where is the other one then? Get it back for me.” “It’s with her. I’ll get it tomorrow.” “Now.” He was caught off guard. “She’s not home today—” “Not home? I thought you said she hadn’t moved in yet.” He pressed his lips together, remaining silent for two seconds. “…I meant she hasn’t fully moved in. She just brought some of her things over first.” I didn’t press further. I walked out to the balcony and pulled back the drying sheets hanging on the rack—there were indentations of two pillows, one large and one small. I opened the washing machine. Inside was a men’s t-shirt and a maternity dress, tangled together. Carter stood at the balcony door, his composure finally crumbling. “Chloe, listen to me.” I didn’t listen. I walked to the front door and started putting on my shoes. He rushed over and grabbed my wrist. I turned to look at him. “Carter, do you have any idea how much those earrings mean to me?” He opened his mouth. But no words came out. He had taken my most precious possession, and yet he didn’t feel a shred of guilt. I wrenched my wrist free and pulled open the door. The hallway lights were motion-activated. My footsteps turned on the bulbs one by one—illuminating each flight of stairs, then fading to black behind me. His voice echoed from above, growing more distant: “Chloe, it’s not what you think—Chloe—” I reached the lobby. A taxi pulled up in front of the building, and a woman stepped out of the back seat. She had a round pregnant belly, a floral dress, a pale face, and dry lips. She was holding a bag of fruit and a bag of baby clothes. She saw me and froze. “Are you… Chloe?” I didn’t move. She looked down at her own left hand—a ring was on her ring finger. It was an antique diamond ring set in silver. I recognized that diamond. It was part of the set that went with Nana’s earrings. The earrings were passed down to me, and the ring was given to my mom. My mom told me last year that she had lost the ring. Audrey’s voice was barely a whisper. “This… Carter gave this to me. He said it was an old family heirloom.” The two of us stood under the dim streetlights of the apartment complex, staring at each other for what felt like an eternity. She was the first to cry. It wasn’t the dramatic cry of a villain—it was the quiet, shoulder-shaking sob of a woman six months pregnant who had suddenly realized the truth. Her lips turned white as she bit down on them. I didn’t cry. I walked over, pulled the earring from my pocket, and placed it on the concrete pillar next to the streetlamp, right beside her ring. “He told you this was a family heirloom?” “It belonged to my Nana. She passed away last year.” Carter ran down from the stairs. The moment he saw the two of us standing together—he stopped dead in his tracks. His mask of perfect expressions shattered completely for the first time.

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Three years of marriage, and my seemingly celibate husband had never touched me. Then, out of nowhere, he sent me a text: “Wanna do it?” I quickly changed into a sheer silk nightgown and rushed into his room. For a whole week, we used no protection. I thought I had finally touched his heart. Clutching my positive pregnancy test, I went to his office to share the good news. But outside the conference room, I heard him laughing with his sister-in-law, Evelyn, and some foreign investors. “You’re too much, Austin. I was just curious if mixed-race babies would look cuter, so you actually invited them over? If Chloe finds out you drugged her and she’s pregnant with a mixed baby, won’t she lose her mind?” My husband, Austin Sterling, replied in his signature cold tone, “She won’t. She’s thrilled just knowing she’s pregnant.” Marcus, a white investor, grinned wickedly. “Sterling, you’re a real man. Letting us have a taste of your wife first? Respect! So generous!” Another investor, Damon, laughed. “How about a bet on the baby’s skin color? I bet black. If I lose, I’ll buy Evelyn a Lamborghini!” Evelyn watched them banter with a smile, throwing a smug glance toward the door… ……

I stumbled backward. My body slammed into the decorative vase by the door. With a loud “shatter”, the vase smashed to pieces. The laughter inside came to a screeching halt. The door was ripped open. Austin, Evelyn, and those two foreign investors—five people, ten eyes—all stared straight at me. The remnants of their twisted smiles were still plastered on their faces. Austin’s expression instantly turned incredibly dark. Looking at them, my mind flashed back to that week. The first time he walked into my room, smelling faintly of cologne. The first time he kissed me, clumsy yet gentle. The first time we made love, his sweat dripping onto my eyelids. I thought that was the turning point of our three-year marriage. I thought my devotion had finally won him over. Now, those memories replayed in my mind like a horror movie, leaving behind nothing but the sickening realization of being set up and defiled. Every single frame made me want to throw up. “Chloe, what are you doing here?” Austin spoke, his voice carrying a rare, barely noticeable hint of panic. I didn’t answer. I looked at him, and then at Evelyn behind him. Evelyn’s lips curled into a smirk, enjoying the show. I turned around and ran toward the elevator as if my life depended on it. I could feel their eyes burning holes into my back. The air in the entire office building felt thick with humiliation. I just wanted to escape. I frantically mashed the elevator button to close the doors. At the very last second before they shut, I saw Austin chasing after me, his face as dark as a storm cloud. I collapsed inside the elevator, gasping for air. The pregnancy report slipped from my weak fingers, fluttering down onto the cold floor.

I ran back home. I locked myself in the bathroom, washing my body over and over again. I turned the hot water to the maximum, burning my skin bright red. But I couldn’t feel the pain. The sheer humiliation of being violated was etched into my bones. No matter how hard I scrubbed, I couldn’t wash it away. I loathed myself. I don’t know how much time passed before someone knocked on the door. Austin was back. His voice came through the door, flat and emotionless. “Where did you go?” “Did you get the pregnancy report?” I didn’t answer. I shut off the shower. When I walked out, he was standing right at the door. He reached out, wanting to touch my stomach. I flinched as if I’d been stung and threw myself backward. His hand froze in midair, and his eyes instantly grew cold. But quickly, he returned to his usual calm, indifferent self. “Stop throwing tantrums.” “Tomorrow, I’ll take you to the best private clinic for a full checkup.” His tone was patronizing, like he was soothing a petulant dog. Staring at his hypocritical face, I found it incredibly funny. I asked him coldly, “Austin, do you really want a baby?” He froze for a second. Then, a gentle smile appeared on his face—a smile I had never seen before. “Of course.” “Our baby will be brilliant.” Watching him act made my stomach churn. His gentleness was never meant for me. It was for that sick, twisted bet he made with Evelyn and those investors. He didn’t care about the baby. He only cared about the outcome of the bet. He wanted to see what color the baby would be. I let out a cold laugh in my head and didn’t say another word. The next day, he took me to the most expensive private clinic in the city. In the VIP waiting room, I saw the last people I wanted to see. Evelyn and those two foreign investors were already waiting there. They looked like they were the baby’s actual family. And I was just a surrogate container holding their prize. Seeing me, Evelyn immediately walked over and grabbed my arm affectionately. “Chloe, you’re finally here. Austin was so worried about you, he insisted we all come to keep you company.” The two investors stood up as well. Without any shame, they stared at my belly with slimy, calculating eyes, assessing me over and over. They were looking at me like a lottery ticket about to be drawn. Feeling utterly disgusted, I shook off Evelyn’s hand. She didn’t get angry. She just covered her mouth and giggled, her eyes filled with triumph. Soon, the nurse called my name. After a series of tests, the doctor held the report and smiled at us. “Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Sterling. Mrs. Sterling is indeed pregnant, and the fetus is very healthy.” The moment those words left his mouth, I clearly saw a greedy, excited light flash in the eyes of the two investors. They exchanged a look, silently celebrating. My heart sank into a bottomless abyss. For me, this was the beginning of a nightmare. For them, the game had officially begun. I sat in the chair, my entire body frozen cold. Despair washed over me like a tidal wave, drowning me completely.

Before the doctor could even finish, Austin spoke up impatiently. He said, “I heard we can do amniocentesis for precise genetic screening right now. Arrange it.” His tone was calm, but it was an absolute command. The doctor immediately objected. “Mr. Sterling, the gestational age is far too early. Amniocentesis right now carries an extremely high risk.” “It could cause severe harm to both the mother and the fetus. I highly advise against it.” Austin interrupted him, his eyes icy. “I’ll pay double.” “I’ll sign the waiver.” “Just do it.” His words were ruthless and cold, devoid of any warmth. Intimidated by his authority, the doctor didn’t dare say more and went to prepare for the procedure. I let out a bitter laugh, staring at Austin, and finally spoke. My voice was dry and raspy. “Why are you in such a rush?” He looked at me blankly, as if I were a stranger. “Evelyn is weak. She gets anxious when things are left uncertain.” “Let’s get this over with so she can have peace of mind.” What a ridiculously absurd excuse. At that moment, my heart was completely crushed by his own hands. It turned out that in his mind, the immense pain and risk I was about to endure didn’t even compare to Evelyn’s slight “anxiety.” The nurse wheeled me into the operating room. To my horror, those two investors actually followed us right to the door. They stood outside, discussing loudly in English. “I bet it’s black!” “No way, Austin’s genes are dominant. It’s got to be Asian!” Their shameless conversation drew stares from everyone in the hallway. Those scanning, judging, and curious eyes stabbed me like needles. This was a public humiliation. I lay on the cold operating table. As the long needle pierced through my abdomen, a sharp pain shot through my body. But that pain was nothing compared to the agony in my heart. I bit my lip hard, refusing to make a sound. Yet, tears streamed uncontrollably down my face, dampening my hair. “My baby, I’m so sorry.” “Mommy couldn’t protect you.” When the procedure was over, the nurse wheeled me out. I was completely drained, my face paper-white. At the door, I immediately saw Austin. And Evelyn was right beside him. The moment Evelyn saw me, she clutched her head, leaning weakly against Austin. She frowned, her voice trembling. “Austin, I feel so dizzy. I think I’m running out of oxygen.” Austin immediately scooped her up in his arms, his face filled with panic and care—a look he had never directed at me. He didn’t even cast a single glance in my direction. Holding Evelyn, he turned to leave. As he passed by my gurney, he stopped for a fraction of a second and snapped at me coldly. “Take a cab back yourself.” “Don’t embarrass me here!” With that, he walked away with the woman he loved, never looking back. I was left all alone in the crowded hallway. Like a piece of discarded trash. My husband forced me into a high-risk procedure for a sickening bet. And then, to comfort his beloved sister-in-law, he abandoned his weak wife at the hospital. Betrayal could really be this absolute. At that exact moment, my heart died completely.

I leaned against the wall, taking one agonizing step at a time to get out. People around me whispered and pointed. Words like “slattern” and “she got what she deserved” drifted clearly into my ears. I was numb. I felt nothing. I walked out of the hospital alone, standing helplessly by the curb. Eventually, I called a cab and went back to the empty mansion. Before I could even catch my breath, the doorbell rang violently. I looked through the peephole. It was Evelyn. I didn’t want to open it, but she kept pressing the bell relentlessly. Finally, I opened the door. She was wearing Austin’s jacket, strolling inside as if she were the mistress of the house. She deliberately adjusted her collar, revealing several dark hickeys on her neck. That jacket was one I had just bought for Austin a few days ago. She was marking her territory. She smirked contemptuously, looking me up and down. “Chloe, you didn’t actually think Austin loved you, did you?” “He only has eyes for me.” “Three years ago, if my family hadn’t gone bankrupt and needed cash, do you think you’d ever have married him?” “He thinks you’re too dirty to touch. That’s why he let outsiders have you.” Her words were like poison-tipped daggers, stabbing straight into my heart. She stepped closer, leaning in to whisper in my ear. “You know what? Austin recorded everything.” “He filmed that entire week.” “If you don’t behave, I’ll send the video to all the board members. I’ll make sure you’re famous.” I trembled violently, staring at her in disbelief. Pure terror gripped my heart. Seeing my fear, she looked incredibly satisfied. But then, her eyes drifted to my flat stomach, flashing with jealousy and madness. “But this stomach of yours… is really eyesore.” “If I can’t have his baby, you sure as hell won’t either!” She grabbed my wrist with terrifying strength. Before I could react, she pushed me hard toward the basement stairs. Caught off guard, I screamed as I tumbled down the steep staircase. A ripping pain exploded in my abdomen. Lying on the cold concrete floor, I felt warm liquid gushing out from between my legs. It was blood. “My baby.” Just then, the front door opened. Austin walked in, witnessing the scene. I lay in a pool of blood, while Evelyn stood at the top of the stairs, looking panicked. I reached out my hand toward him, begging for help. But Evelyn was faster. She immediately pointed at me, crying out, “Austin! It’s not my fault! She tripped and fell! She’s trying to frame me!” Austin rushed down. He stepped right over me—bleeding on the floor—and ran straight to Evelyn. He didn’t look at me once. Then, he turned around and walked over to me. “Slap!” A stinging slap landed squarely on my face. My head whipped to the side, my ears ringing violently. He glared down at me, roaring, “Chloe! Have you had enough of your drama?!” I stared at his furious face, and at Evelyn standing behind him, giving me a malicious smirk. I laughed. Blood and tears mixed together, tasting bitter in my mouth. My consciousness began to fade. Right before I blacked out completely, a memory surfaced. I remembered the day I got married. My parents had handed me a key to a private deposit box. They told me, “Chloe, this is your way out. If there comes a day when you feel like you have nowhere left to go, open this.” That was my last shot.

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