On my 18th birthday, I received several mysterious text messages on my phone. The sender claimed to be me from ten years in the future. “This is not a prank,” one message read. “Go to the Computer Science department and find Liam Blackwood,” another instructed. “He may seem reserved and cold now, but in the years to come, he will be the one who loves you most in this world.” “Save him. Promise me you won’t let him die for you this time.” My name is Aria Winters, and I’m a freshman in college. I just celebrated my 18th birthday last week. It was probably the most surreal birthday I’ve ever had. On my birthday, my dad gave me a new phone. That night, after showering, I lay in bed, transferring the SIM card from my old phone to the new one and downloading some commonly used apps. As I was fiddling with those apps, my phone suddenly notified me of a new message. I glanced at it casually – it was a random sentence that said, “Go to the Computer Science department and find Liam Blackwood.” I had never even heard of Liam Blackwood. It must have been sent to the wrong person. I ignored it, but soon another message came through: “Hurry, you must find him before Christmas, or it will be too late!” The sender seemed so urgent, it might be something important. Out of kindness, I opened the message thread and replied, “I think you’ve got the wrong person.” The response came immediately: “No, I’m looking for you, Aria Winters.” I found this bizarre, so I checked the sender’s phone number. What I saw made my blood run cold, and I threw my phone away in shock. The sender of these messages had the same phone number as mine. Imagine this: it’s exactly midnight, and I’m texting… myself. Was this a malicious prank or a ghostly midnight message? I took a few deep breaths, mustered up my courage, picked up the phone, and with trembling fingers, typed: “Who are you?” Until dawn, there was no reply from the other end. I had almost forgotten about this incident, but tonight I stayed up late preparing for a club officer interview the next day. As soon as the clock struck midnight, my phone automatically popped up a message, still the same – “Go to the Computer Science department and find Liam Blackwood.” This was the second time. I wanted to get to the bottom of this. “Who are you? Is this a prank?” I asked. The reply I got was mind-boggling: “I am you, Aria from ten years in the future.” Are they kidding me? This is ridiculous. I reminded them: “April Fools’ Day was six months ago.” “I’m not lying to you. If you don’t believe me, I can prove it. On your end, it’s 2020, and you currently have a crush on Connor Sullivan, right?” My head buzzed. Connor Sullivan was a guy in our club, a year older than me. He was quite handsome, known as the gentle senior among the students. He had been particularly caring towards me, and I did have some feelings for him, but I had never told anyone about it. How did she know? As if knowing my thoughts, the other person said, “Don’t doubt it, I just know because I am you from ten years in the future.” A sudden thought struck me, and I asked her, “So, am I with Connor Sullivan ten years from now?” This time, the other side was silent for a moment. “Yes, you’re married.” Before I could feel embarrassed for a few seconds, my phone started buzzing with messages as if it was possessed: “But he has a small dick, he’s terrible in bed, and he’s a super mega scumbag. If you end up with him, he’ll spend your money, sleep with your friends, and even try to kill you!” I was dumbfounded. After digesting her information, I couldn’t help but feel devastated. What? Is my future really that miserable? Perhaps realizing the topic had gone off track, she quickly brought it back: “There’s no time left. Listen to me, you must go to the Computer Science department and find Liam Blackwood.” “Although he seems introverted and cold now, in the years to come, he will be the one who loves you most in this world.” “Promise me, save him. Don’t let him die for you this time.” I asked her who Liam Blackwood was, which class he was in, why she said he died for me, what happened, but the messages I sent seemed to sink into a bottomless sea. I looked at the time – well, it was 12:05 AM. It seemed to be the same time last time. It appears that this cross-time communication between us has a specific time limit. The next day, I dragged my tired body to the 8 AM class. It was the Department Head’s course, and everyone had fixed seats. You could tell at a glance who was late or absent. As soon as I entered the classroom, I noticed extra breakfast on my desk – soy milk, small wontons, and even a chocolate muffin. I asked my roommate, who had arrived just before me, “Who brought this?” She said, “I don’t know, it was already there when I came.” She lowered her voice and grinned at me, “Honestly, Aria, was it Connor Sullivan? I saw him buy you bubble tea before. Not bad, huh? You just posted on social media last night that you wanted to eat a chocolate muffin, and today he bought it for you. He must like you, right?” The chocolate muffin was only sold at a trendy store three miles from campus, and that store was so popular that you had to be quick to get their hot new products. If it were any other time, I would have been touched and given Connor some bonus points in my heart. However, because of last night’s text messages, now when I heard Connor Sullivan’s name, I couldn’t help but think of that sentence – “he has a small dick, he’s terrible in bed.” Help. Connor Sullivan’s image in my mind crumbled by half. Facing my roommate’s suggestive gaze, I quickly denied it: “No, we’re not in any kind of relationship.” At 3 PM, I attended the club officer interview on time. The interview went smoothly, and afterwards, Connor came to congratulate me and asked if I wanted to go watch a movie with him that evening. In the past, I might have happily agreed, but today, as soon as he came close, that phrase “small dick, terrible in bed” kept flashing in my mind. Heaven knows how much willpower it took to keep my gaze from drifting downwards. Connor took another step towards me: “I’ve already bought the tickets. It’s a mystery film, the kind you like.” I declined politely, maintaining a calm expression: “I have something to do today, sorry, Connor.” “Alright,” he looked a bit disappointed, “we’ll plan for next time then.” I breathed a sigh of relief, then remembered something. Liam Blackwood was also in the Computer Science department, right? Maybe Connor had heard of him. With a try-and-see attitude, I asked him about Liam Blackwood. He did know him: “He’s in Class 1, the most famous among this year’s freshmen. Why? Do you know him?” I shook my head and made up an excuse: “A friend of mine likes him.” “Aria, you should tell your friend to give up on that idea,” Connor’s expression turned serious. “Why? Does he have a girlfriend?” “No,” Connor frowned, “I heard he’s sick. Mental illness.” I heard some rumors about Liam Blackwood from Connor. Apparently, when he first entered college, he became quite popular due to his good looks and aloof attitude towards people. Connor’s position as the most popular guy in the department was almost threatened. But later, someone dug up his family history and posted it on the school forum. People’s attitudes towards him changed 180 degrees overnight. The reason was simple: he had a mentally ill father who was a murderer. When it happened, Liam was only five years old. He witnessed his frenzied father kill his mother with a knife, then walk towards him step by step. Fortunately, before the knife fell, his father came to his senses, but realizing what he had done, the tremendous fear and guilt made him drop the knife and flee. In the end, it was a neighbor returning from work who discovered something was wrong, opened the door to find a murder had occurred next door, and shakily called the police. When the police arrived, the body was lying in a pool of blood, already cold. The five-year-old boy was curled up in a corner, his body trembling uncontrollably, his gaze blank. After that, Liam’s father remained missing. The police couldn’t find his whereabouts. Liam only had a distant relative, but that family considered him a burden and sent him to an orphanage. The person who posted on the forum described it vividly, claiming to be Liam’s high school classmate who had personally witnessed Liam go berserk, pinning a much taller senior against the wall and beating him. The reason seemed to be that the senior had made a joke about Liam’s parents. Everyone said that his reckless, life-risking craziness must have been inherited from his father, and so rumors of Liam having a mental illness spread throughout their Computer Science department. I read all the posts about Liam on the forum. Far from being scared, I felt a bit sorry for him. … I must have been influenced by the text messages from these past few days. There was a photo of Liam on the forum, a candid shot taken by someone. In the photo, he was glaring at the camera, his eyes wild and cold. I stared at that photo again and again, conflicted all night, and decided to go find Liam and see the situation for myself. Finding Liam wasn’t difficult at all. I didn’t even need to ask anyone. Standing outside their classroom window and looking in, I could spot him at a glance among the sea of people. His aura was unique. At this age, college students often like to wear a few branded items, each one full of youthful energy. Liam was different. He sat alone in the last row, wearing the simplest white t-shirt, with black hair and black eyes, like a stagnant pool untouched by sunlight, out of place in this world. I compared this face with the photo on the forum and could confirm it was him. Perhaps my gaze was too intense, he suddenly looked in my direction. Our eyes met, his gaze sharp. Caught peeking, my heart skipped a beat, and under the influence of guilt, I reflexively crouched down, hiding under the window. Only after crouching did I realize how strange this looked. I wasn’t a peeping tom, why was I feeling guilty? As the bell rang, people poured out of the classroom. I stood on tiptoe looking for Liam. As expected, he was walking at the back of the crowd, carrying a shoulder bag, his expression quiet and indifferent. Because of the rumors, everyone’s attitude towards him was both wary and fearful. While others were in groups of three or five, there was no one around him. The sense of loneliness was palpable. I couldn’t help but call out to him: “Hey!” I ran up to him, took out my phone, “You’re Liam Blackwood, right? Hi, I’m Aria Winters from the Design department. Can I add you on SnapChat?” This was the first time in my life I had ever approached a boy on my own. While I was feeling nervous, Liam stopped and looked at me. I couldn’t tell if it was surprise or expectation in his voice: “You know me?” His voice was quite pleasant, very clean. To not seem too abrupt, I answered honestly: “I didn’t know you before, but I want to know you now. Is that okay?” Liam didn’t seem satisfied with my answer. He said, “No, it’s not.” Those eyes returned to their previous emotionless state, as if the expectation I saw in them earlier was just my imagination. He strode past me. I called his name, only to receive a cold response: “Don’t follow me.” Hello?? Don’t you know this is how you lose me? At midnight, the message from the future arrived on my phone right on time. It was still that same, unshakeable, almost like a death warrant: “Quickly go to the Computer Science department and find Liam Blackwood.” Thinking of what happened during the day, I replied with a depressed mood: “I went today. Are you sure you didn’t make a mistake? I feel like he doesn’t like me at all. He doesn’t even seem to know me.” In my depression, I also felt a bit wronged. I didn’t know where this sense of grievance came from. Was it because I had enthusiastically approached someone only to be coldly rejected? Or was it because it was Liam? That glance he gave me through the glass today left a deep impression. I think I might have… fallen for him at first sight. It took a full two minutes before a message came from the other side. “No mistake. I’ve read his diary. He carried out a secret love throughout his student years, but neither you nor I knew about his feelings.” A secret love that lasted throughout his student years. I searched through my memories but really couldn’t remember anyone named Liam Blackwood. I asked, “When exactly did Liam start liking me?” Surprisingly, my future self replied: “I don’t know either.” “His love… was too silent. I never noticed it.” “Anyway, you must be wary of Connor Sullivan. He’s a complete scumbag, guilty of both financial fraud and attempted murder. If it weren’t for Liam, Connor would have succeeded. My life was exchanged for Liam’s. That’s why I want to save him. I want him to live.” I promised my 28-year-old self that I would save Liam, and for this, I even made a comprehensive plan. First, of course, was to stay away from Connor Sullivan. My fondness for Connor came from his usual care for me, but I’m not stupid. Once I learned he was a scumbag, I would have bought a train ticket and fled overnight. Next was to find a way to get close to Liam. I got hold of their department’s class schedule from the school’s confession wall. On a morning when I didn’t have class, I walked into their classroom with two breakfast sets, brazenly sat down next to Liam. Liam seemed very uncomfortable with my arrival. From the moment I sat down, he curled up like a little hedgehog, his voice hard and cold: “What are you doing here?” He was quite cute like this. Writing about his secret love for me in his diary, but in reality, for some reason, he seemed to deliberately avoid me. It was a bit like those people online who say one thing but mean another. I handed him the bun and soy milk I had brought: “I brought you breakfast.” He clenched his jaw, stared at me for a while, then pushed it away: “I don’t want it.” But the way he looked at me just now clearly showed he wanted to accept it. What a contradictory person. I admit I had my own agenda. My 28-year-old self only said to save Liam’s life, to let him live. But knowing this, my 18-year-old self wanted to date him. We pushed and pulled over the breakfast several times, attracting the attention of classmates in front of us who couldn’t help but turn around to look. Their faces couldn’t hide their shock, as if surprised that someone would actually sit next to Liam and talk to him. As the bell for class rang, I simply grabbed Liam’s hand, put the breakfast in it, and softened my voice to say quietly: “Come on, skipping breakfast is bad for your health. I brought this specially for you. Just take it, okay?” I’m quite good at acting coy. Sure enough, Liam froze when I held his hand, reacting as if he had been electrocuted. This time he didn’t refuse, but he put the breakfast at the corner of his desk, seemingly with no intention of eating it. I sighed internally, thinking there would be more opportunities in the future. However, I had only come three times before Liam grabbed my arm and cornered me in the hallway. If I had to describe it, he was like a small beast whose territory had been invaded, bristling with all his spines to warn me: “What exactly do you want to do?” If it were someone else interrogating me like this, I would have been scared away long ago. But it was Liam, those dark eyes staring intently at me, beneath the surface of annoyance was an almost undisguisable confusion and fear. I didn’t understand, but I felt sorry for him, so my mouth moved faster than my brain: “I just kind of like you. Can’t you like me back a little?” Liam let go of my hand. The next second, he suddenly smiled. This was the first time I had seen him smile. It was very attractive, making me dizzy. If I liked Liam five points before, from this second on, I can guarantee this liking had shot up to seven points.

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The first time I went home with my boyfriend. When we walked into the living room of Jackson’s family estate, aside from a group of older people who I assumed were relatives, there was a woman sitting there… in a wedding dress. As soon as she saw Jackson, she stood up, her face flushed with a coy smile. “Honey, you’re back! Once you transfer the $50,000 to my account, we can go to the courthouse to get our marriage license.” Wait. What?! Jackson is getting married? And the bride isn’t me? I was furious and turned on my heel to leave. But Jackson grabbed me, panic plastered on his face. “Harper, don’t go!” He held on tight. My hand hurt. But more than anything, I was completely speechless. First relationship ever, and I end up with a guy like this? Seriously, my luck couldn’t be worse. I tried to pull his hand off. “Jackson Stone, let go. Don’t think I won’t slap you!” He wrapped his arms around me, almost as if he was afraid I’d run. “I don’t know her, Harper. You have to believe me.” His usual embrace—the one that used to make me feel safe—now felt like a mockery. But the panic on his face seemed real enough. The woman’s expression quickly shifted from shy to smug. “Who is she, honey?” she sneered, her finger pointed at me, dripping with jealousy. The way she looked at me—like I was some homewrecker—infuriated me. I yanked Jackson’s hair, forcing his head to tilt painfully to one side. “Let go of me, you scumbag, or I’ll rip all your hair out.” Jackson blinked in confusion, holding my waist tightly, refusing to let go. The other woman stared at him, her face full of sympathy. Then she lunged at me, claws out. “Let go of my husband!” I flinched. Crap, she’s going to scratch my face!

Luckily, Jackson pulled me back a few steps, just in time to avoid her attack. I angrily released the handful of Jackson’s hair I had been clutching. “Jackson, you have five minutes to explain.” He quickly shifted from hugging to holding my hand, nodding frantically, and pulled me toward an older couple sitting nearby. “Mom, Dad, what’s going on here? I called you and told you clearly, I’m bringing my girlfriend home for the first time. Could you take this seriously, please?” His parents looked confused, their eyes darting between me and the woman who had just called Jackson her husband. Finally, his father spoke. “Her name is Scarlett Rayner. Didn’t you meet her through Aunt Linda? You two were supposed to get married. We thought…” He hesitated. “She’s the girlfriend you were talking about.” Jackson looked like he was about to lose it. “I don’t even know her!” I raised an eyebrow, glancing around the room at all the bewildered faces. Scarlett started crying, tears streaming down her face. “How can you say that, honey? Aunt Linda introduced our families, and she said if I was happy, we could go straight to the courthouse! I even brought my marriage license papers!” She waved the documents in front of everyone. I was stunned. So was Jackson’s entire family. They looked at each other, bewildered. Jackson glared at his parents. “How did I not know about this blind date?” His mom looked uncomfortable. “You’re 25 and still single. I was getting worried, so I had Aunt Linda help by organizing your profile and photos. I just wanted her to find someone nice.” Jackson’s face was a mess of emotions, as colorful as a painter’s palette.

I scoffed. I felt like an outsider watching a trainwreck. Just as I was about to leave, Scarlett collapsed onto the floor, crying her eyes out. “Jackson Stone, are you trying to abandon me?” “All my relatives know we’re getting married. I’ve already sent out the invitations! I even quit my job just to come back here and marry you. We’ve discussed the wedding settlement. I’m ready to marry you!” Sobs punctuated every word, her voice desperate. I was disoriented. I’ve been with Jackson for three years, and we’ve never talked about marriage. Yet here we were, with some woman calling him her husband and demanding he take responsibility. Even though I could tell something was fishy, it didn’t stop the situation from stinging. Scarlett suddenly jumped up and pointed at me. “You, the other woman! Get out of my house. My husband only loves me. He’s always loved me, and we’re going to be together forever. You’re shameless, trying to steal him away.” Her absolute certainty left me stunned. I was about to yell back and storm off when Jackson stepped in front of me and started shouting at her. “Are you crazy? You quit your job? Sent out invitations? That has nothing to do with me!” “I don’t even know you.” “And if I’m going to get married, it’s going to be to Harper. Who do you think you are? Get out of my house!” I stared at his back, feeling a twinge of disappointment despite his defense of me.

No one shows up in a wedding dress without some kind of leverage. I poked Jackson in the back. “I’m leaving.” I tried to stay calm, but I couldn’t take this mess. I just wanted to get out of there. He spun around and grabbed me. “Harper, don’t go. You’re the only one for me.” Scarlett screeched and clawed at me again. “You homewrecking trash, get away from my husband!” I smirked, then kicked her. “Get lost.” She dramatically flopped onto the floor, moaning in fake pain. Now I was even more furious. That ridiculous gown of hers was so big I didn’t even land a proper kick. She’s totally faking it!

“You people are treating us so unfairly! Everyone, come out and see how we’re being treated!” An older woman—about sixty or so, dressed in a red floral-patterned dress—stormed out the door and sat herself right at the entrance of the estate, yelling. “In every corner of the country, when you marry, the man’s family pays the settlement, and the woman’s family provides the dowry! It’s tradition to make sure the couple starts off well.” “You could have said you wanted to give less, but pretending you don’t even know my Scarlett? How heartless can you be? We wouldn’t be at the point of talking about a wedding if you didn’t know her.” “You’re ruining my daughter’s reputation, Stone family. You should be ashamed.” “Why does my daughter deserve to be treated this way?” “Is it because this new woman you brought home has more money, and now you’re ditching my Scarlett? That little tramp must be seducing our son-in-law!” “Oh, Scarlett, what will you do now?” I stood inside, watching Scarlett’s mom wailing in the yard, slapping the ground without shedding a single tear. My head spun in disbelief. What kind of circus is this? Scarlett ran out and wrapped her arms around her mother, sobbing. “Mom, stop. It’s my fault for trusting the wrong person. If Jackson wants to be with someone else, let’s just call off the wedding.” The whole room watched them in stunned silence. The entire room stared in disbelief at the spectacle unfolding outside. I turned to Jackson, my mind racing. We worked together in Chicago. We weren’t living together, but we saw each other almost every day. How could he have gone on a blind date with Scarlett and made it this far without me knowing? I looked at him closely. His jaw was clenched tight, and the veins in his hand bulged as he held mine, though not painfully. His other hand was balled into a fist, the knuckles turning white from the tension. What on earth was he so angry about? Shouldn’t I be the one upset? I’m the one being treated like the “other woman” here!

Jackson took a deep breath, just about to speak when Scarlett’s mother shrieked, “I don’t care what you say, your family must give us the wedding settlement and take Scarlett to the courthouse for the license, or I’m calling the police!” Jackson’s mother paled and quickly tried to diffuse the situation. “No! No police, please! You’ll ruin my son’s reputation!” Without missing a beat, Scarlett’s mom stood up from the ground in a flash. “Fine. No cops then, but the $50,000 settlement stays. That’s the emotional damage compensation for my daughter.” “If you want to get married, take her to the courthouse. If not, then don’t. But she can live with him in the meantime. Let them have a trial marriage.” Jackson’s father, clutching his chest, looked like he was about to collapse. His mother rushed to him, trying to calm him down. “Honey, don’t get worked up. Your health can’t handle this!” I couldn’t help but smile bitterly. The whole family looked like they were about to explode. Suddenly, it all clicked: Jackson hadn’t done anything wrong, but somehow this madness had fallen into his lap. Jackson’s eyes were sharp as he glared at Scarlett and her mother, his voice low and cold. “You’d better leave my house, or I’ll be the one calling the cops.” Scarlett’s mother, defiant, spat back, “Fine, we’ll go, but your family made my daughter a joke. You’ll at least have to cover the wedding costs and pay her a year’s worth of lost wages.” I glanced at Jackson, watching for his reaction. If he agreed to pay, I would break up with him on the spot. There’s no way I’d stay with someone who lets themselves get blackmailed just to avoid drama. This wasn’t about the money. If he gave in, it meant he was admitting guilt, that he had led Scarlett on. There was a right way to handle this and a wrong way. I despised the idea of solving problems by throwing money at them. I needed Jackson to take a stand.

Without a word, Jackson pulled out his phone and dialed the police. Scarlett’s mother saw no one was giving in to her demands, so she threw herself on the ground again, screaming and kicking, her cries filling the air. The same nonsense again: Abandoned after an engagement. Cheap family refusing to pay the settlement. At this point, Aunt Linda appeared, looking embarrassed, and whispered an explanation to Jackson. “Scarlett’s mom dragged me here first thing this morning, insisting you two were engaged. She even quit her job to move back home.” I could feel the question marks swirling around my head. Jackson sent a long text message to someone, then turned to me. “I’ve got a friend looking into who this Scarlett Rayner really is.” Just then, the police arrived. Scarlett’s mom immediately lunged at one of the officers—Officer Amanda Fields—crying and wailing the same ridiculous story she’d been spinning all day. The senior officer, Sergeant Michael Gray, stepped in, his voice firm. “Let go.” Instantly, Scarlett’s mother released Officer Fields, like a mouse caught by a cat. After speaking with everyone involved, Sergeant Gray turned to Scarlett and sighed. “Marriage is a mutual decision. They don’t even know you, so showing up here demanding a wedding isn’t right. It’s best if you head home before this situation escalates further.” Scarlett’s face was drenched in tears, but her mother wasn’t about to let go that easily. “How are we the ones causing a scene? My daughter’s reputation has been dragged through the mud! Shouldn’t they at least pay for the emotional damage?” Jackson clenched his fists, the veins on his hand bulging as he raised his voice. “Say ‘compensation’ one more time, I dare you.” Scarlett’s mother screamed and charged toward us, her eyes wild, ready to attack.

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After getting accepted into Stanford University, my parents decided to reward me by buying a small house near the campus. My brother’s girlfriend, though, seems to think she has him wrapped around her finger and acts like she owns the place. She threw out all my stuff from the house and had the nerve to warn me: “Your brother is the only heir of the Sterling family, so I’m the lady of this house now. Stop hanging around here eating for free and be smart—pack up and leave!” I immediately recorded her little act on video and posted it in our Sterling Family Group Chat on WhatsApp, writing: “If this kind of trash gets into our family, consider me, Harper Sterling, a failure!” My name is Harper Sterling, and I have a fraternal twin brother, Ethan Sterling. Growing up, I was always the one being pampered by my parents, while Ethan was more like someone they picked up out of a dumpster. Take this instance as an example: I got accepted into Stanford University, which is about a 30-minute drive from home. Even though it’s not far, my parents went all out and bought me a small house near campus so I could have my own private space without worrying about noisy roommates. As it happens, Ethan also got accepted into Stanford. But for him, my parents said, “Boys are fine in dorms. No need for private space. No fuss.” Ethan practically begged me with tears in his eyes, and since I have a soft spot for him, I agreed to let him have a room in the house. Although they bought me the house, I still preferred living in the dorms with my friends, so I stayed on campus. My parents would only stay in the house for a few nights when they visited me and Ethan. Today, I got a delivery call saying my package had arrived and been left at the front door. That’s when I realized I had mistakenly put the house address instead of my dorm address. Since I didn’t have any afternoon classes, I decided to walk over and grab it. The house wasn’t far—just a 10-minute walk. Standing outside the front door, I figured since I was already there, I might as well stay the night and head back to campus tomorrow. I confidently punched in the entry code, but it was wrong. Not thinking much of it, I tried again. After three failed attempts, all showing incorrect, I knew something was off. I snapped a picture of the error message and sent it to the Sterling Family Group Chat. Before I could even type a message, Ethan called. “Is the lock broken or something? Why does it keep showing the wrong password?” I asked, frustrated. Ethan hesitated on the other end, sounding nervous. “Uh, sis, mom and dad aren’t visiting. Why are you home all of a sudden?” It was blazing hot outside, and I was getting cranky. “What’s with all the questions? What’s wrong with the lock? Did you change the password?” “Sis, don’t get upset! We’re just about to finish class. We’ll be there in a few minutes. Just wait a bit!” Clearly terrified of me losing my temper, Ethan hung up in a hurry. What’s the big deal? Couldn’t he have just told me the new password? Annoyed, I stood in the shade, waiting for Ethan. Fifteen minutes later, Ethan came rushing over, and I noticed a girl following behind him, walking at a leisurely pace. So that’s why he said “we.” He’s dating someone. The girl, Madison “Maddie” Cole, had flawless, fair skin and perfectly applied makeup. But as she walked over, she shot me an unfriendly look, as if I had interrupted her date and offended her. Sensing that I was on the verge of exploding, Ethan quickly handed me an ice-cold Coke. “Sis, this is Maddie. Maddie, my girlfriend. She’s been staying here for a few days.” I took the Coke, and it cooled me down a bit, but the second I realized my brother had his girlfriend staying at the house without even telling me, my anger reignited. Ethan, knowing my temper all too well, immediately added, “Maddie, this is my sister, Harper. She’s in the finance department at school.” Maddie clearly didn’t want to talk. It wasn’t until Ethan nudged her that she gave me a half-hearted nod as a greeting.

The atmosphere was incredibly awkward. Ethan broke the tension by punching in the new password and opening the door. The new code was clearly a birthdate. It wasn’t mine, Ethan’s, or our parents’. It had to be Maddie’s. The previous code had been set by me, but Maddie had apparently found it too complicated and had Ethan change it to her birthday. When Ethan explained this, I couldn’t help myself and punched him in the shoulder. This idiot gave the house code to someone outside the family, and not only that, he changed it to something she could remember? Ethan, sensing my irritation, resorted to his usual tactic—playing the pitiful little brother. Fine. I’ll let it go this time since Ethan seems to like her. After all, it was our first time meeting. Who knows if we’ll even see each other again? No need to make things too hostile. But as soon as I stepped into the living room, I was in complete shock. Can someone explain why everything was pink? I had hired an interior designer to create a sleek, minimalist look. Now, the walls were covered with tacky, country-style paintings and posters. Cheap, mismatched decorations hung everywhere, like something out of a bargain bin at a discount store. I swallowed my anger and walked inside. Ethan followed behind me but kept quiet. I glanced at the staircase and saw my books scattered all over the steps. The table had an empty cup of instant noodles on it, with one of my expensive hardcover books underneath it, being used as a coaster. What enraged me the most was that the upstairs suite—my room—had become their bedroom. The second floor had a shared bathroom and a master suite with a walk-in closet and private bathroom, which was originally mine. Now it was a complete mess, and they had replaced the bedding with a hideous, bright red set. Surveying the scene, I saw that my vanity, which had been lined with my collection of skincare products and makeup, was now nearly empty. “Where’s all my stuff?” I asked, pointing to the now-bare wall where my perfumes and lipsticks had once been neatly displayed. “What, did you eat my lipstick? Use my perfume for a bubble bath?” I stared at Ethan calmly, which only made him more scared. When I’m truly furious, I go quiet. When I was little, I had a pet rabbit. A clueless relative killed it and tricked me into eating it. I calmly ate a bite of the rabbit, then picked up a baseball bat and went to their house, smashing everything I could. For the next three months, I visited every month to smash something new until they finally moved away. Maddie, however, seemed completely unfazed by my fury, casually sitting in a rocking chair by the window, enjoying an avocado smoothie bowl. Ethan, terrified that I was about to explode, hurriedly promised he’d replace everything that had been lost or broken. That cooled me down slightly. I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and strolled over to Maddie, flashing her a forced smile. “Maddie, I’m a bit of a neat freak. I don’t like people touching my stuff.” Maddie wasn’t pleased by my words and shot back sarcastically, “Well, Harper, this is my boyfriend’s house. I can use whatever I want. The owner doesn’t mind, so why should you, the guest, care?”

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After five years of marriage, my wife’s childhood friend posted a property deed on his Facebook Feeds. He captioned it: “Thanks to my boss lady for transferring the house to me.” I stared in shock at the deed with my home address on it, and I commented with a simple “?” My wife, Seraphina “Sera” Jade, immediately called to scold me: “He’s a single dad; he’s so pitiful. I only transferred the house to help his daughter with school later; it doesn’t affect our living situation.” “How can you be so heartless, showing no sympathy at all?” On the other end, I could hear the sad complaints from her childhood friend, Jasper “Jazz” Caldwell. Half an hour later, he posted again, tagging me. This time, he flaunted a brand-new Luxury Mercedes-Benz. “Paid in full. As the saying goes, where a woman spends her money, that’s where her heart is.” I knew this was a gift from Sera to placate him. But this time, I decided I was going to divorce her. …… When Sera came home, I swallowed a capsule of medication with a slice of birthday cake. This was the medication I had to take after my gastric tumor removal. It was my birthday, and I had prepared a cake, waiting for Sera to return home, wanting to tell her that I had undergone surgery while she was away on business. I waited until 7 PM; she didn’t answer my calls or reply to my messages. The moment I commented on Jazz’s post about the property deed, Sera called me back, launching into a tirade. I tried to explain, but she hung up and blocked me. I was so furious that my stitched-up wound felt like it was tearing open again. Sera glanced at the medication and the cake on the dining table, frowning: “Whose birthday is it? Yours?” I silently put the medication away and tossed the cake in the trash, calmly saying, “Not mine, it’s for a friend.” She sighed with relief: “I remember your birthday is on September 28th; today is only the 8th.” Five years of marriage, and Sera had always mixed up my birthday. Ironically, she seemed to remember someone else’s birthday just fine. Sera sat next to me and handed me a small toy car: “Jazz asked me to give you this; he was scared by your sarcasm today, and you need to apologize to him.” The toy car had a Mercedes-Benz logo on it. It was probably a promotional item from the car purchase, with a noticeable grease stain on it. I replied flatly: “I don’t want it.” Sera frowned, displeased: “What are you being so proud about? He was scared and came to make amends, and you can’t even apologize to him?” Seeing that I wasn’t budging, Sera tried to pull me up to call Jazz. She yanked me up with such force that my injured leg bumped against the cold coffee table. That was the same leg Sera had burned a week ago. She had been walking out of the kitchen with a pot of scalding porridge, distractedly replying to Jazz’s messages, and had accidentally spilled it all over my right foot, burning the skin badly. Seeing blood seeping from my right foot again, Sera panicked: “I’ll take you to the hospital.” I didn’t refuse: “Okay.” As soon as I got into the car, the Bluetooth speaker came to life with Jazz’s soft, playful voice. “Welcome back, my boss lady! Work hard to earn more money for me to spend!” Sera’s expression shifted slightly: “Jazz left that in my car last time; I threw it out.” “No need.” I replied indifferently. The car quickly fell into silence. Sera looked at me, surprised: “Aren’t you angry?” I pursed my lips. I used to care about Jazz a lot. Now, I didn’t even care about Sera; how could I care about her little puppy? “Just drive; it’s getting late.” We only needed to make a U-turn and drive a mile straight to the hospital, but Sera’s phone rang. When she answered, a smile appeared on her face. I recognized Jazz’s voice as he sweet-talked her into taking him for a ride in the new Mercedes. “There’s a little urgency with Jazz; I’ll drop you off here, just cross the street, it’s only fifty meters.” Sera didn’t even want to turn around; she couldn’t wait to see Jazz. I glared at her coldly: “I can’t walk.” Sera’s expression turned cold: “Can’t you be less dramatic? You’re hurt, not disabled!” She opened the passenger door and forcefully dragged me out of the car, telling me to call her when I had my medicine sorted. The car sped away, splashing dirty water all over my injured foot. The sky started to drizzle lightly, leaving me soaked and looking a mess. Fifty meters felt like a marathon; after just a few steps, I was drenched in cold sweat. The wetness aggravated the pain from my freshly stitched abdomen, and my leg buckled as I collapsed onto the crosswalk. Numerous cars sped by, and if it weren’t for the kind security guard at the hospital helping me up, I might have been hit by one. Finally back from the hospital, I lay down, and Sera stormed in: “Didn’t I say to call me when you had your medicine sorted? I waited for you at the hospital entrance for a whole hour, and your phone was off the entire time!” I stared at her blankly.

I had been on an IV for two hours in the hospital, and when I came out, I didn’t see Sera’s car. I was feeling miserable and had no choice but to take a taxi home. My phone had only just died two minutes ago. In short, she hadn’t come to pick me up at all. When did Sera, who used to care for me meticulously, start to become distant and cold? “You blocked me; I couldn’t call you.” Sera paused, her anger slightly fading: “I knew you’d be hungry, so I brought you some late-night snacks—skinny rice porridge.” I looked at the bowl of porridge. It was just sprinkled with some scallions, hardly any rice or meat, more like leftovers from someone else’s meal. Half an hour ago, I had seen Jazz’s post. The picture showed Sera cooking porridge in the kitchen: “Who says there are no good women in the world? Not only did she take me for a midnight ride in her Mercedes, but when I was hungry, she also cooked me porridge. It smells amazing!” I stirred it self-deprecatingly, feeling a wave of nausea: “Throw it away; I don’t want it.” Sera’s expression darkened instantly as she glared at me coldly: “What’s wrong with you? I brought this especially for you, and you just want to throw it away?” “Am I wrong for being upset that I just transferred the house to Jazz today? It doesn’t mean you can’t live there. His child has a place to go to school now, and all I got was a thank you post on Facebook. You went and left your sarcastic comments; did I hold that against you?” My abdominal stitches were barely healed, and now my leg was re-injured; I felt utterly exhausted: “You misunderstood me; I was just surprised that his property deed had our address on it…” Sera interrupted impatiently: “Misunderstood? Jazz is right about you! You always fly off the handle over nothing, with no grace or tolerance. If I so much as talk to another man, you become paranoid! I think the issue lies with you!” If it were earlier, I might have argued back, trying to get her to understand the real me. Now I just stared at her coldly. Once she finished her hysterical rant, I slowly said: “Are you done? Could you please turn off the lights?” She shot me a dark look and slammed the door on her way out, leaving the lights on. Seconds later, the sound of another door slamming echoed from the living room. In the past, when she would sleep at Jazz’s place after a fight, I’d lie awake all night. Tonight, however, I fell asleep comfortably on my own. The next day, I contacted a friend for a lawyer and consulted about divorce proceedings. Since that door-slam, Sera had disappeared for three days. The next time I saw her was in a travel photo shared by her friend Felicity “Flick” Hart. In the picture, she and a few friends posed together, with Jazz standing beside Sera, both in matching outfits, Jazz’s youthful face beaming with joy. I quietly liked the photo. Sera, who had been MIA, called me back in an instant: “I’ll pick you up later to go to the beach and introduce you to my friends.” After a pause, she added: “Actually, I didn’t have to invite you; this is a reward for how well you’ve been behaving lately.” “Sure.” The divorce was already in motion; I didn’t want to stir things up with her. Sera came to pick me up as promised, but strangely, Jazz didn’t show up to cause a scene today. Once we reached the beach, Flick came over to greet me: “Last time was my gathering, sorry for not giving you a heads-up. I’ll punish myself with three drinks later.” Flick’s acknowledgment elevated my status in front of everyone. I offered a perfunctory smile: “Been busy with company matters recently.” “I heard you managed to persuade some elite talents to open a branch in Willow Springs; congratulations!” Flick continued to shower me with compliments. I smiled slightly: “That’s the plan, but it’s still uncertain.” As I spoke, Sera marched over, glaring at me: “You’re going to Willow Springs? Why didn’t you tell me? Did I permit you to go?” I turned my head, calmly gazing at her furious face. The atmosphere around us froze again. Sera was still loudly questioning me, while Flick could only awkwardly attempt to lighten the mood, suggesting we head to the barbecue. The server quickly set up the grill, and Sera sat beside me, a rare look of panic flashing across her pretty face: “I’ve already told Jazz that once his kid graduates from elementary school, we’ll transfer the house back.” “Don’t be upset; it’s my house, and I don’t have to explain it to you.” “Oh.” I nodded calmly. Before long, a familiar handsome figure walked toward us, and my smile froze. A girl I had never met but who was close to Flick and Sera jumped up, excitedly waving at Jazz: “Brother-in-law, brother-in-law, Sera’s here, hurry over!” In an instant, everyone around us gasped.

Flick kicked the girl, angrily scolding her for her lack of awareness. “I’m going to the restroom.” I slowly stood up, not wanting to explode in front of everyone, just wanting to keep some semblance of dignity between us. Sera glanced at me and then at Jazz, but she ultimately didn’t follow me. When I returned, everyone had eaten and sat down on the beach. Jazz and Sera were sitting close together, their postures intimate. I quietly found a spot to sit off to the side. Flick again tried to lighten the mood: “Alright, let’s play a game of Truth or Dare!” In the first round, Sera won, and Jazz lost. Jazz chose truth, and Sera let him off easy, asking him what he had been happy about lately. Jazz blinked and gazed at Sera affectionately: “I met a wonderful woman; in just one day, I have a house and a car. By the way, she even took me for a midnight ride in her new Mercedes-Benz to unwind.” After saying that, Jazz smirked at me triumphantly. Most people present knew exactly how Jazz had gotten that house and car, but everyone typically turned a blind eye, knowing yet saying nothing. However, Jazz bringing these matters to light changed everything. The atmosphere thickened again; even Flick felt a bit awkward. Noticing that I wasn’t getting angry, Flick forced herself to keep the ball rolling: “Alright, it’s time for the second round, and look, it’s our handsome Ethan’s turn.” When it was my turn, Jazz was the one to impose a penalty on me. “Truth,” I said flatly. Jazz approached me with a drink in hand: “Ethan, let’s play big, how about a dare?” I frowned, alarm bells ringing: “I choose truth.” “Let’s do a dare; I won’t make it hard on you. I heard Sera say you’re an excellent swimmer. Just swim a lap for us!” Jazz smirked as he looked at my abdomen. I firmly refused: “I’m not feeling well; I can’t swim.” Jazz looked at Sera with a pitiful gaze, and Sera, slightly annoyed, said: “You’re a level-two athlete; swimming is your specialty; how could you not swim? A few days ago, he apologized to you; now he’s trying to make amends. You showing him a swim will not cost you anything!” Sera insisted, ignoring my struggles, pushing me towards the beach along with Jazz. Jazz skillfully removed my jacket while taking a swig from a bottle of alcohol: “Ethan, I toast to you; now it’s your turn to shine.” With a drink in hand, I felt like I was being put on a spit to roast. I grew impatient: “I said I didn’t want to swim; forcing me while you drink isn’t fair. Why can’t I choose truth?” Jazz pouted, glancing at Sera. Sera’s expression darkened instantly. She slammed the bottle of alcohol into the sand: “What’s your problem? Swimming is your forte; he’s not making it hard on you; he’s even punishing himself with a drink! Why are you being so ungrateful?” Looking at Sera, the “damsel saving the hero,” and at Jazz, whose eyes were reddening, I replied coldly: “Did I force him to drink? I told him I didn’t want to swim, and he’s still pushing me; isn’t that the definition of being difficult?” I shot back three times, causing Jazz to burst into tears. Sera’s expression turned dark as she rolled up her pants. “Not swimming, huh? Fine, I’ll swim with you!” With everyone staring in shock, Sera grabbed my ear and forcefully pushed me into the water. The cold seeped into my wound, making my scalp tingle with chill; in the next moment, seawater rushed into my nose, and I choked violently. Sera still didn’t let go; she and Jazz held me down. I felt like I was suffocating, my eyes turning red from discomfort as tears and snot streamed down my face. When it felt like my lungs were about to explode, I desperately tried to push Sera away; finally, she let go. Unfortunately, a big wave crashed in just then, and as I tried to grab Sera’s pant leg, she kicked me away. I was swept into the sea, icy water engulfing me completely. After what felt like an eternity, I finally swam with all my strength to the shore, gasping for fresh air. Meanwhile, Sera was gently rubbing Jazz’s head, soothing him with patience and warmth: “Don’t be sad; I punished him.” “He deserves it; I’ll teach him a lesson later.” Then, she walked up to me, looking down from above: “Apologize to Jazz! You owe him a drink! Otherwise, we…” In the midst of everyone’s shocked gazes and Sera’s demanding eyes, I interrupted, my eyes reddening: “Sera, wait for my lawyer to contact you; we’re getting a divorce.” With that, Sera stared at me in disbelief, her dark eyes filled with shock. I felt weak as I took a few steps forward. When I reached the main road, everything went black, and I collapsed. Before losing consciousness, I heard someone nearby shouting: “Someone’s passed out!” “Call an ambulance! Oh my God, he’s bleeding a lot from his abdomen!”

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I was picking up Carter from Windsor Elementary when I ran into Lily Whitman’s mom. Just as I was about to greet her, Carter jumped out in front of me, blocking my way. “This is our nanny. You don’t need to talk to her!” Then he turned to me and shouted, “You’re embarrassing! Don’t come to school looking like that!” I was furious when I got home and immediately complained to Nathan, but instead of support, he snapped at me. “Well, if both of you think I’m such an embarrassment, I’ll just spend all my time and money on beauty treatments and new clothes. Let’s see how that goes.” And as for being the “free nanny”? Whoever wants the job can have it. The very first day I stopped doing everything, Carter’s clothes weren’t washed, his homework wasn’t done, and he was late to school. My little prince went from being the class favorite to looking like a scruffy kid from the wrong side of town. Nathan stormed at me, “You’re making excuses to go to work and not even taking care of our son? Vivian, how can you be so selfish?” I calmly replied, “6.” Both Nathan and Carter were about to lose it.

When we got home from school, I sat on the couch with a cold expression. I didn’t cook dinner, didn’t clean, didn’t wash a single piece of clothing. Carter, as usual, didn’t think he’d done anything wrong. He expected everything to continue like normal. “Mom, I’m hungry! Hurry up and make dinner!” he demanded. I shot him a look and said, “Don’t call me Mom. I’m not your mom.” Carter’s face flushed with anger. I had promised him burgers and fried chicken after school, but after his performance at the school gate, those plans were gone. Earlier, I’d seen Carter chatting up Lily, laughing his head off like nothing else mattered. Next to Lily was her mom, Sophia Whitman, looking effortlessly stylish. I walked over, intending to greet her, but the second Carter saw me, his face dropped. He jumped right in front of me and cut me off, loudly proclaiming, “This is our nanny. You don’t need to talk to her!” He turned and yelled at me again, “You look so embarrassing. Don’t come to school looking like that!” It was pickup time, and other parents were passing by, giving me curious looks. Sophia Whitman’s face was full of surprise as she glanced at me with concern, slightly raising her brows. I looked down at my faded clothes. Between taking care of the house and family, I hadn’t had time to dress up. My ungrateful little brat had the nerve to be ashamed of me? But I wasn’t going to take it lying down. I slapped some sense into him, hard. Carter’s face turned beet red. I mumbled an apology to Sophia and walked away without looking back. Carter, in a panic, came running after me, wailing, knowing I was furious. He probably thought I wasn’t going to take him for fried chicken anymore. As if! I wasn’t going to give him anything. He could have looked like fried chicken for all I cared. Once we got home, Carter locked himself in his room and gave me a dirty look. I looked around at the dirty laundry and messy living room and sank deep into thought. It’s been seven years since I became a full-time mom. I gave up my job for Carter. Every little thing—meals, laundry, school, health—was all on me. But today, the way he acted made me realize all my efforts were for nothing. Why had I sacrificed so much? When I refused to make him dinner, Carter lost it completely. He threw himself on the floor and started screaming. “I wasn’t wrong! You don’t even have a job. What’s the difference between you and a nanny? I’m telling Dad!” To my shock, Nathan frowned when he heard the story, and his eyes were full of disappointment when he looked at me. “Why are you making a big deal over what a kid says? You promised him fried chicken today. No wonder Carter’s upset!”

“Nathan, are you serious?!” I couldn’t believe it. “Your son has serious issues, and when I try to teach him a lesson, somehow it’s my fault?” Nathan’s face showed nothing but annoyance. “Carter’s just a kid. What does he know? But you’ve let him go hungry this long? That’s on you.” Carter looked smug, glancing at me, while he whined to Nathan about wanting fried chicken. Before the two of them could head out, I yelled, “If either of you walks out that door today, I’m done with this house!” The only response I got was the slam of the door and the sound of their laughter fading down the street. I collapsed on the couch, tears running down my face. Seven years of my life, all for nothing. Every day, I’d wake up early, cook, clean, take care of Carter, and do all the household chores. My workload wasn’t any less than Nathan’s. But now, neither Nathan nor Carter appreciated me. Well, if they think I’m so embarrassing, I’m done. I’ll spend my time and money on self-care and clothes. Let’s see who misses me then. After making up my mind, I tossed Nathan’s stuff into the guest room. There was no way I was sleeping next to that man for another minute. I called up Bianca and we made dinner plans. Nathan took Carter out for fried chicken, so I wasn’t going to hold back either. After dinner, Bianca and I hit Rivercrest Shopping Mall. I had years of missed self-care to make up for!

The newest skincare set? Bought. Trendy clothes and bags? Yes, please! Gym membership, spa package—got them both! Bianca watched me spend money like water, her eyes wide in disbelief. “Vivian, aren’t you worried Nathan’s going to lose it?” I admired my purchases with satisfaction. “Who cares? I’m spending my own savings. He has no say in it!” I posted a picture of my shopping haul on Instagram to celebrate this new chapter of my life, but then I saw that Nathan had already posted something first. He’d tagged me, too, with a snarky caption: “Took Carter out for fried chicken. He says I’m his favorite!” In the picture, they were smiling, faces pressed together, in front of a table full of junk food. Typical. I rolled my eyes.

Every time I tried to discipline Carter, Nathan would play the good guy. So, despite me spending every day taking care of Carter, it was Nathan who Carter adored. I gave the post a sarcastic like and went to grab drinks with Bianca. We spent the evening mingling with some charming guys who kept calling us “ladies” in that flirtatious tone that made me feel young again. Dancing in the club released all the stress I’d built up during the day. Carter might still be young and need guidance, but as his mom, I couldn’t just abandon him. I’d have to rethink how I raised him. When I got home at 11 p.m., I was ready to make some changes in our dynamic. But instead of being in bed, the house was still brightly lit. Carter was up, playing with his toys in the living room, way past his bedtime. I always made sure he was asleep by 8 p.m. for school the next day, but here it was, 11 o’clock, and he was acting like it was the middle of the day! Furious, I roared, “Carter Summers! Do you have any idea what time it is? You’ve got school tomorrow!” Normally, Carter would have jumped into bed the moment I raised my voice, but tonight he actually had the nerve to shout back. “You’re the one who doesn’t keep your promises! Why do I have to listen to you? You just sit around at home all day, living off Dad’s money. You’re pathetic!” I stood there, stunned. This was the same child I’d devoted seven years of my life to, and now he was lashing out at me like this? The first time he’d said something hurtful, I thought it was just his age. But now, he was doing it on purpose. He meant every word. Tears stung my eyes. I couldn’t believe I had given up my career, everything, for this ungrateful child. I stormed over and yanked him off the floor. “Say that again! Who taught you to speak to me like that? WHO?!” My voice was shaking with despair. Carter glared at me with nothing but hate in his eyes. I shivered. He started sobbing, but his words stayed harsh. “You don’t do anything! My friends’ moms aren’t like you!” As he screamed, he kicked and punched at me, putting every ounce of strength into each blow. At that moment, I realized—he truly despised me. Nathan, finally noticing the chaos, stormed into the room and shoved me aside. “Vivian, are you out of your mind? Look at what you’re doing to him! He’s terrified!” He turned to Carter, “Don’t just stand there. Wash Carter’s clothes, pick up his toys, and get him to bed.” Both Nathan and Carter acted like they had every right to boss me around. I stood up, grabbed the dirty laundry, and threw it right in their faces. “I told you earlier—if you walked out that door, I was done. So, whoever wants to deal with this, go ahead!” Carter froze, unsure of what to do. I slapped him hard across the face. “You don’t want me to take care of you? Fine. From now on, you’re not my son!” Carter burst into uncontrollable tears. Ignoring him, I kicked a toy out of the way and walked toward my bedroom, leaving Nathan and Carter behind, too stunned to react. From that moment on, I swore I’d never do another thing for either of them. Not one. And with that decision, I felt lighter. After a long hot shower, I finally relaxed in bed. Just as I was drifting off, Nathan stormed into the room, eyes blazing with anger. “What the hell is wrong with you today? Is this because Bianca’s been egging you on again? How many times have I told you that woman is no good! Those fancy things you bought are probably her influence too! Return them all tomorrow!”

I was on the verge of sleep, but his rant brought me fully awake. He wanted a fight? Fine, I’d give him one. “I’m spending my own money. I can buy whatever I want. Who do you think you are to control me? Bianca’s got real men in her life—men you could never measure up to. And now you’re jealous? Pathetic.” Nathan’s face twisted with anger. I knew exactly what to say to hit him where it hurt. As his wife, I knew him better than anyone. He’d always been envious of Bianca’s success, trying to cozy up to her crowd, but they didn’t want anything to do with him. “You’re insane,” Nathan spat. “Sleep it off, you’re clearly out of your mind.” He stormed out of the room. I laughed to myself. He probably thought his silent treatment would terrify me. Little did he know, I was relishing the freedom of being alone. The next morning, I was woken up by Carter’s cries. When I checked the clock, it was already 8 a.m. Well, well, someone’s late. I stretched luxuriously in bed, savoring the fact that I didn’t have to rush out of bed to make breakfast for anyone. Carter had tripped over his toys and split his forehead open. He lay on the floor, clutching his head, wailing, expecting someone to come to his rescue. Nathan came stumbling out of the master bedroom, looking disheveled and clearly panicked by the scene. Carter ran into his arms, bawling, “Dad, I’m late! I’m going to lose points for being late!” Nathan was just as unprepared, having clearly just woken up himself. He never thought I’d actually stop taking care of Carter. Seeing me standing there watching the scene, Nathan snapped. “Why are you just standing there?! Go grab a band-aid! Can’t you see Carter’s hurt?” I yawned and glanced at them. “Oh, he’s got a scar now? Too bad. Guess it’s gonna leave a mark.” 7 Carter was always so conscious of his appearance, and now with a gash on his forehead, he was crying like the world had ended. Nathan saw I wasn’t going to help, so he started looking for the band-aids himself. After practically tearing the house apart, he still couldn’t find one. Frustrated and red-faced, he shouted, “Where the hell are the band-aids? You hid them, didn’t you?” I rolled my eyes. “If they’re right in front of you and you can’t see them, that’s on you. Don’t go blaming me because you’re blind.” Nathan was furious, looking like he might charge at me. But he quickly realized now wasn’t the time because Carter was really late for school. Carter attended Maplewood Academy, a private school where the other kids were from well-off families, all used to following the rules. Being late was practically unheard of. To make matters worse, Lily Whitman—the girl Carter liked—was the class’s discipline monitor. If he was late, she’d surely look down on him. Nathan hurriedly dressed Carter, who stood there looking helpless. “Where are my clothes?” Nathan asked. I barely glanced at him. Before, I’d always have freshly washed and ironed clothes neatly laid out on the sofa for him. But now, remembering all those times I tried to be the “perfect wife” made me want to slap myself. “They’re on my face,” I said sarcastically, as I turned on the TV and started my morning yoga. Nathan shot me a death glare, grabbed some mismatched clothes from wherever he could find them, and with his hair a mess, dragged Carter out the door. Neither of them had eaten breakfast, and Carter’s complaints about being hungry echoed down the hall as they left. Meanwhile, I leisurely ordered myself a deluxe breakfast delivery, completed my yoga session, and enjoyed my meal at a slow pace. Just as I finished, my phone started ringing. It was Ms. Valerie Harper, Carter’s teacher. I let the phone ring, then hung up. Carter wasn’t my problem anymore. Why should I care about his school issues? Ms. Harper was persistent though. After several missed calls, she sent a text. “Mrs. Summers, what is going on at your house today? Carter not only arrived late, but he didn’t wear his uniform. He looked filthy, like he hadn’t washed his face! And what’s more, he didn’t even do his homework! Is this how you raise your child? You need to come to school immediately!” I was tempted to ignore her, but knowing she wouldn’t let it go, I replied:

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My sister-in-law, Chloe Rivers, was getting married. On the way to pick up groceries for dinner, I decided to buy a lottery ticket. Little did I know, when the numbers were drawn, I’d hit the jackpot—$20 million! I had imagined living a dream life with my family, but then my husband, Brad, decided he wanted a divorce. I raised my thumb and held back my excitement. “Well, isn’t this just perfect? A double blessing!” After thirty failed blind dates, Chloe finally found her “Prince Charming,” Ethan Montgomery. Everyone in the family was thrilled about the news. Mrs. Margaret Rivers, my mother-in-law, invited Chloe and her new fiancé over for dinner. “Sophia, here’s two hundred bucks. Go to the store and buy something you young folks like to eat,” she said, slipping the cash into my hand. On the way to the store, I casually bought a lottery ticket. When I got home, I put the groceries in the kitchen and noticed that neither Mrs. Rivers nor Brad were in the living room. I started putting away the groceries, and soon enough, I heard the front door open. It must’ve been Brad and his mom coming back. “Brad, make sure Sophia doesn’t find out about the $75,000, or she’ll make a scene!” Mrs. Rivers said as she changed her shoes. “Relax, Mom. The money is safely tucked away in my personal account. Sophia has no clue it even exists!” Brad said, carelessly tossing his shoes around. “Good! With that $75,000, Chloe can marry into her new family with confidence. No one will push her around, and I can finally stop worrying,” Mrs. Rivers said smugly while sipping her water. I stood there, frozen in the kitchen, gripping the spatula. $75,000? Where did that come from? And it’s for Chloe’s dowry? As far as I knew, Mrs. Rivers worked at a factory, making about $4,000 a month, with plenty of expenses to cover. Brad had always told me that between the house, the wedding, and other expenses, the Rivers family was financially drained. When we got married, I didn’t even keep the $20,000 dowry my parents gave me—I handed it back to Brad’s family to help them out. So how in the world did they save up $75,000 in just three years? My thoughts raced like wildfire. I had thought marrying into the Rivers family made me one of them. But now, it was clear: the real family was just Mrs. Rivers, Brad, and Chloe. I was nothing more than a foolish housekeeper. Mrs. Rivers would toss me a few hundred bucks here and there, and I thought she was being generous. Turns out, compared to Chloe, I was nothing. She was practically treating me like a beggar, throwing me scraps. By now, the food in the pan had dried up and started to burn, but I hadn’t even noticed. “When did you get back?” Brad opened the kitchen door and was startled to see me standing there. My thoughts snapped back to reality, and I glanced at him. “I… I’ve been home for about ten minutes…” Brad rushed over, taking the spatula from my hand. “What were you doing? The food’s burning!” I quickly grabbed a bowl, poured some water into it, and dumped it in the pan. “Oh… I was just thinking about whether the store owner overcharged me for the groceries.” I made up an excuse, hoping to cover my tracks. Brad gave me a suspicious look. “You didn’t hear anything after you got home, did you?” His gaze felt like it was trying to pierce through me. I played dumb, staring back at him with confusion. “Hear what?” “You came in so quietly. I didn’t even hear you.” Brad’s expression softened, and he smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I went out to get your favorite—durian. Just got back.” He leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. It was then I noticed the giant durian in his hand. Suddenly, I felt repulsed by the durian—and his kiss. Not because I liked durian, but because Chloe did. This family was exhausting.

That afternoon, Chloe and her fiancé Ethan showed up empty-handed, ready to eat and drink as soon as they walked through the door. At dinner, I decided to bring up the subject of Chloe’s dowry. “So, Ethan, now that you’re marrying our precious Chloe, how much are you thinking for the dowry?” I asked, half-joking, half-serious. Ethan froze for a moment. “Sophie… We agreed on $18,800.” I chuckled. “Oh, lucky numbers, huh?” Then I turned to Mrs. Rivers. “Hey, Mom, that’s not a bad amount. How much are you planning to send Chloe off with?” “Do you have enough? If not, I can chip in. That dowry money is still with Brad, isn’t it?” Mrs. Rivers gave a nervous laugh. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I’ve already got everything set aside for her.” Then she turned to Ethan. “I’ve been saving my retirement money for years, and I’ll give it to Chloe as her dowry. It’s not much, but I hope you don’t mind, Ethan.” Ethan quickly waved it off. “Not at all.” They all thought they were playing me for a fool. But without solid proof, I didn’t dare confront them at the dinner table. After dinner, they sat in the living room, laughing and chatting about wedding plans. The atmosphere was warm and lively, but there was no room for me on that couch. I looked at the chaotic dining table and the kitchen, which looked like a war zone. I took off my apron, excused myself, and went to my room, claiming I wasn’t feeling well. Mrs. Rivers looked slightly irritated, but with guests in the house, she didn’t say anything. I shut the bedroom door and collapsed on the bed, letting the tears I’d been holding back fall. A week later, Chloe and Ethan got engaged. They didn’t invite many people, and of course, I wasn’t one of them. How ridiculous. Mrs. Rivers told Brad I had to work, so I couldn’t attend. She sent Brad to bring me food at the office, making sure I ate before he left. But after he left, I took the rest of the day off and followed him to the Crystal Ridge Country Club. Not many people were there, but all the important folks from back home showed up. I watched as Chloe and Ethan posed for photos in front of an elaborate display. Not only was there a hefty dowry from Ethan’s family, but there was also a stack of cash—$75,000—waiting for Chloe. The reality hit me like a slap in the face. There it was—$75,000, not a penny short. Mrs. Rivers’ face turned pale when she saw me walk in. I handed the bouquet I had brought to Chloe and smiled. “It’s your big day, Chloe. How could I, as your sister-in-law, miss it?” Chloe’s face flushed with embarrassment. Brad rushed over, clearly annoyed. “Didn’t you already eat? Why are you here?” I raised my voice. “What? Just because I ate means I’m not allowed to attend the engagement party?” “Or are you worried I’ll see the $75,000 you’re giving Chloe?” The moment I mentioned the money, Mrs. Rivers’ face darkened. Once the secret was out, there was no more pretense. Chloe strutted over to me, full of arrogance. “So what if I’m getting $75,000? Can your family give you that?” “Your parents couldn’t afford a dowry like that, so what are you trying to prove?” Her words left me fuming. “Chloe, you know exactly where that $75,000 came from!” Mrs. Rivers jumped up, panicked. “Sophia, watch your mouth! What do you mean, ‘where it came from’? I saved every penny of that myself!” Brad frowned and added, “Sophia, stop causing trouble!” Ethan’s family sat there watching like they were at the movies, probably happy to see me humiliated. After all, marrying Chloe meant they were about to pocket $75,000.

When I refused to back down, Brad slapped me. It was the first time he had ever hit me in our two years of dating and three years of marriage. That slap woke me up. What was the point of staying in this mess? I slapped him back and walked out of the country club. When I got home, I grabbed a suitcase and started packing to go back to the Grant Family Home. As I was packing, I found the lottery ticket I’d bought a week ago in the pocket of a coat. It was the day of the drawing. I pulled out my phone and started checking the numbers one by one. Two billion… I’d won $20 million! In that moment, all the hurt, anger, and frustration melted away. My hands trembled as I reached for my phone to call Brad and share the incredible news. But just as I was about to dial, I stopped. He slapped me. Unless he apologized, I wasn’t forgiving him, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to share in my good fortune. Halfway through packing, I gave up and sat on the couch, waiting for him to come home. It wasn’t until nearly dark that Brad and Mrs. Rivers stumbled through the door, drunk. Brad tripped over my suitcase and fell. When he got up, he seemed a bit more sober. “Sophia, what are you doing?” “What’s all this? Are you planning to run away?” Mrs. Rivers rolled her eyes and let out a loud burp. “A useless hen who can’t lay eggs should’ve left a long time ago! Get out of here if you’re going!” I stood up, shocked, staring at Brad. “You want me gone too?” Brad pushed me aside and collapsed on the couch. “Yeah, go! Leave! I’m so done with you!” “Three years of marriage, and still no baby. My buddies think there’s something wrong with me!” “If I had known you were this useless, I wouldn’t have wasted money marrying you. What a damn waste!” Tears welled up in my eyes. I couldn’t believe he’d say something so shameless. When we got married, he’d insisted we couldn’t afford to have kids. Now he was blaming me for not getting pregnant. At that moment, my heart hit rock bottom. I left the rest of my packing unfinished, grabbed my suitcase, and went to my parents’ house. The next morning, Brad called. I thought he might regret everything and ask me to come home. But the first thing he said was, “Sophia, where the hell are you? The house is a mess, and you haven’t made dinner! Get back here and clean up!” Typical. I sighed deeply. “Brad, I want a divorce.” There was silence on the other end, and then he burst out laughing. “Hahaha, great! Let’s get a divorce! Come right now, and we’ll do it!” I couldn’t believe how eager he was. From the time we ended the call to when we had the divorce papers in hand, it took less than an hour. Standing outside the County Clerk’s Office with the divorce certificate in his hand, Brad looked like a new man. He sneered at me. “Sophia, three years of marriage, and you didn’t even give me a kid. Let’s see who’d want you now.” I looked down at the divorce certificate, suddenly thankful I hadn’t told him about the $20 million lottery win. For me, the jackpot and the divorce were a double blessing. Brad had just lost the best thing that ever happened to him, and he didn’t even know it. Ignoring him, I took my divorce certificate, disguised myself, and headed to the State Lottery Office to collect my $20 million. A month later, as I sat at home counting my money, I received a summons from the court. Brad was suing me… Had he found out about my $20 million? Technically, winnings before a divorce are considered joint marital assets… Was he trying to claim half?

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When I was 16, my father saved Mr. Malcolm Monroe’s life. In return, I became engaged to the Monroe family as their daughter-in-law. By 21, I had transformed into a lady, admired in high society. At 22, I married Elijah Monroe. At 26, I gave birth to our first child. He, like Elijah, never liked me. I worked hard to play the perfect daughter-in-law in the Monroe family. One day, Elijah asked what I wanted for my birthday. I handed him the divorce papers. “Elijah, I want a divorce.” Elijah gave me a cold look. “Serena, stop being ridiculous.” Even Gavin, our son, chimed in, “Mom, stop wasting everyone’s time.” I signed my name and looked at Elijah again. “Elijah, I want a divorce.” “Why?” Elijah’s voice was as cold and distant as ever. I sat down, took a deep breath, and said, “There’s nothing to explain. It’s just pointless.” The diamond bracelet on my wrist, a gift from Elijah for my 30th birthday, sparkled faintly under the light. To everyone else, Elijah was a perfect husband, always attentive in public, but only I knew how cold his heart truly was. “Mom, it’s almost midnight. Stop wasting everyone’s time,” Gavin called down impatiently from the stairs. I looked at the child I had nearly died giving birth to, still wearing the same patient expression I always wore around him. “You’ll stay with the Monroe family. You won’t need my support. I have nothing to give you; I’m an orphan. Consider my absence from your life my final gift to you.” Gavin, mature for his age, understood what I meant. Turning back to Elijah, I said, “I’m not greedy. I don’t understand much about property or wealth. I only want the house you transferred to my name recently. I like it. Everything else belongs to the Monroes. I won’t take a thing.” I removed the diamond bracelet from my wrist. “This was meant for your wife, but I don’t think I ever truly was your wife. And I’ve never liked the title Mrs. Monroe. You should have it back.” I took off each piece of jewelry and placed them on the table, one by one. Elijah remained silent, watching me quietly from across the table. Finally, he spoke, “Serena, are you just trying to get my attention?” “Isn’t being Mrs. Monroe enough for you? No matter what you do, in my heart, you’ll never matter.” “Let’s go to court and finalize the divorce. The sooner, the better. We don’t have to wait a month. Sign the papers quickly—I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

I headed upstairs. Gavin had already gone to bed. Like his father, Gavin had a strict schedule and never wasted a second for anyone. Especially not for me, the mother he didn’t like. From the day my father died in a car accident after saving Mr. Monroe, I became trapped in the Monroe family. On that very day, Mr. Monroe held my hand and declared that I was to be their future daughter-in-law, and I lost my identity completely. At that time, I was grieving my father’s death, trapped in a fog of despair. I had stopped speaking, incapable of uttering a word. Mrs. Monroe stormed into my house, dragged me out, and forced me into a series of etiquette lessons. She looked down at me and said, “You have one month to start speaking again. The Monroe family doesn’t need a mute woman as its mistress.” I tried to resist, but Mr. Monroe’s public announcement made my fate clear. I was trapped. I was brainwashed. By the time I was released, Mrs. Monroe asked me what my duty was. I responded automatically, “To be the perfect daughter-in-law of the Monroe family.” From the age of 16 to 21, I transformed from a helpless girl into a poised woman, admired by high society in Manhattan. At 22, I married Elijah under the watchful eyes of everyone. Four years later, I gave birth to Gavin. My life became focused on managing the household and raising Gavin. Attending galas with Elijah was my full-time role. The most frequent sight I saw was the small garden at the Monroe Family Estate, where I planted many flowers. Elijah ripped them out with his own hands because the person in his heart was allergic to pollen.

Thinking about it now, I packed my bags faster. In Elijah’s heart, there was a dead girl he had loved—a girl like a delicate white flower, taken by acute leukemia. By the time Elijah realized, she was already gone. From then on, he hated me for occupying the position of the Monroe family’s daughter-in-law, and he hated the family for keeping it from him. Gavin, too, was the result of a drugged night. When Elijah woke up, he locked himself in the bathroom for an entire day. He thought I was dirty. I tossed a dress out of my suitcase—the one I wore to an event with Elijah. Bad luck. When I finished packing, all my belongings fit into one small suitcase. As I walked out, Elijah was still downstairs. He frowned as usual when he saw me. “There’s no need to rush. We aren’t divorced yet.” I smiled at him. “I can’t stay here a minute longer.” The moment I stepped outside, I felt free for the first time. The house I liked had been empty for a while, so I checked into a hotel nearby until I could get it cleaned. For the next month, I stayed in that house. The day of the divorce arrived quickly, and I waited outside the New York County Court. Elijah arrived with Gavin in tow. When they saw the smile on my face, their expressions turned cold. “Serena, are you happy about the divorce?” Elijah asked. “Let’s hurry. I have a plane to catch.” Without further words, I dragged Elijah to take the necessary photos. After receiving the divorce certificate, I rushed to the airport. Aside from not loving me, Elijah had no faults. He transferred $50 million to my account, along with the house. I was finally free to live my life. I decided to go on an expedition in the Arctic.

As the ship rocked under the massive waves, I watched the sea and laughed. My father and I were both thrill-seekers. We had plans to challenge the most exciting adventures around the world, not end up trapped in a box buried beneath a headstone. That’s why I brought his ashes with me on this trip. When the sea was calm, I scattered his ashes into the water. “Dad, this is the ocean you’ve always dreamed of,” I whispered to myself. That night, just as I was falling asleep, my phone rang. It was Elijah’s voice on the other end. “There’s a party tomorrow with Mr. Williams. He’s asking about the wine from last year. What was it again?” Mr. Williams was one of Elijah’s key business partners. Every year, I agonized over what gift to bring to his birthday party. The wine he was talking about was one I’d spent months searching for—a rare bottle from a renowned winemaker. Being woken up at night was frustrating enough, but the way Elijah ordered me around as if we were still married was infuriating. I snapped, “We’re divorced. Stop acting like a man-child.” “And maybe think before you call someone in the middle of the night. Don’t be a rude man-child.” With that, I hung up and turned off my phone. The next day, I planned to take pictures of the stunning glaciers. When I turned my phone on, I saw a dozen missed calls from Elijah. More than he’d called me in an entire year. Usually, I was the one asking when he’d be home or when Gavin’s school events were, since both parents needed to attend. Elijah’s responses were always the same: “Hmm,” followed by a date and time for the next social event I was expected to prepare for. I put on the perfect dress, held Elijah’s arm, and played the role of the perfect Mrs. Monroe. This time, I blocked his number and focused on the beauty of the glaciers. That night, just before falling asleep, a strange number called me. A woman’s voice asked, “Are you Gavin Monroe’s mother?” “No. I don’t have any children. I’m single now. If you need something, contact his father.” “You’re lying.” It was Gavin’s voice, filled with disbelief. “I don’t think I am. You don’t like me, and I don’t like you anymore either. You can pretend I’m not your mother, and I’ll do the same. Don’t call this number again. Consider me a stranger.”

After hanging up, I decided that once I got back to shore, I would change my number. The Arctic was breathtaking, the towering glaciers impossible to describe with words. On a calm day, the crew lowered a kayak into the water. A foreign tourist next to me asked if I wanted to join them in diving into the sea. I put on my life jacket and stood on the makeshift platform. With a leap, I plunged into the icy water. The cold was intense, but the exhilaration was worth it. In the distance, I could hear the excited chatter of other tourists. I ducked my head underwater, where the noise was muffled. Once back on shore, I dried off and went to check out the kayaks again. By the time I returned to shore, it had been half a month since I’d started this journey. When I landed at the airport, it was already midnight. I got home and fell into bed, sinking into a deep sleep. I woke up in the afternoon, still in a dreamlike state. In my dreams, Mrs. Monroe’s voice echoed, saying how fortunate I was. Then the scene shifted to whispers behind my back, mocking me—”A sparrow can’t become a swan.” Finally, the image settled on the first time Elijah saw me. He stood in the sunlight, wearing a crisp white shirt, each strand of his hair glistening in the light. The moment he looked at me, he held the hand of another girl and promised, “Don’t worry, I’ll never love her.” Elijah really did manage to never love me. When we first got married, Mrs. Monroe pressured me to quickly have a child with Elijah. Under her coercion, I wore embarrassing outfits to seduce him. But that day, in Elijah’s cold gaze, I felt like an ancient courtesan desperately seeking favor. I hurried to get dressed and fled to my room, and from that moment on, I stopped expecting any affection from him. Even on that night when he took traditional medicine, he didn’t call my name.

Waking up now, my head felt heavy. I remembered the two people I despised in my dreams and decided to head downstairs to shake off the bad vibes. I figured I might as well grab a bite to eat. As I stepped into the elevator, I found Elijah standing inside. Dressed in a suit and tie, he looked like he could go to a meeting in a moment. His expression didn’t change when he saw me. “I’m giving you one last chance, Serena. Come back and continue being Mrs. Monroe. Don’t venture too far next time; if something goes wrong, public relations could become messy.” A sarcastic smile spread across my face. To Elijah, my death would only complicate things for the Monroe family’s public relations team. To him, my life was merely a symbol of stability for the shareholders. “Mr. Monroe, we’re divorced. Please respect our agreement and don’t bother me,” I replied, my voice steady. Elijah’s face showed doubt as he opened his mouth to speak, but I turned and walked toward the other elevator. When I reached the ground floor, I spotted Gavin waiting by the car. As I stepped out, he opened the door and climbed in, saying, “Mom, I have an enrichment class later. Don’t waste everyone’s time.” I ignored Gavin and walked directly to the side of the car. Suddenly, I heard a faint mewing sound from under the tires. That sound was all too familiar; it reminded me of the first orange tabby cat I rescued as a child. When I saw the little orange kitten with its tail held high, I couldn’t help but gasp. It looked just like my childhood pet, Dreamer, down to the short, broken tail. Carefully, I picked up the kitten, thinking maybe this was Dreamer’s way of coming back to me. Ignoring Elijah and Gavin, who were both staring at me, I rushed out with the kitten in my arms. At the entrance of the community, I took the kitten to Riverside Animal Hospital, where the doctor took it off my hands, and I finally felt relieved. Sitting in the chair, I couldn’t believe I had found my long-lost companion. Though I knew this kitten wasn’t really Dreamer, it still felt like a part of my heart had returned. Gavin appeared behind me. “I’m allergic to cat hair! Why did you adopt a cat?”

During the early days of my marriage to Elijah, I often found myself alone in the estate, with no one to talk to. I wanted to get an orange cat, just like Dreamer, but Elijah thought cats were a nuisance. After much pleading, I finally convinced him to let me keep one. However, when Gavin was born, we discovered he was allergic to cat hair. The kitten was sent away less than a day after it arrived. My focus then shifted entirely to Gavin. Now, hearing Gavin’s words again, I didn’t hold back. “I’m not your mother anymore. Didn’t you understand what I said that day?” Gavin’s eyes showed a flicker of confusion, as if he couldn’t believe I truly didn’t love him anymore. In his mind, I should always be the one standing behind him, patient and caring, no matter how he treated me. “Even if I opened a cat café now, that’s my business.” “There’s nothing more to discuss. You and your father should stay out of my life. Seeing both of you is exhausting.” “Fine, walk away. You’ll regret being alone one day,” Gavin retorted angrily as he stormed off. I remained seated, waiting for the doctor to return with the results. An hour later, the doctor emerged holding a beautiful little orange tabby, its teeth bared in a cute little grin. As soon as it saw me, it let out a series of adorable meows. I took the kitten from the doctor and gently tapped its nose. “From now on, your name is Beauty, okay?” Initially, I had wanted to name it Dreamer, but it only responded to the name Dreamer. Now, I finally had my dream cat. I bought a bunch of supplies from the pet store and had them delivered. Holding Beauty, I said, “From now on, you’re a princess. Let’s see who dares to call you a little stray.” Once home, I set up Beauty’s new space before making a phone call. While on the Arctic ship, I met three children planning to travel from Xinjiang all the way to Iceland. They asked if I wanted to join them. Now, I needed to figure out what paperwork I’d need to take Beauty overseas. After sorting everything out, a month had passed, and I was waiting at the meeting point for them. Once everyone had gathered, we set off into the distance.

Beauty behaved perfectly on the road as another person and I took turns driving. The first thing he said when he got in the car was, “Hey, if the car breaks down, don’t blame me. This is my first time driving such an expensive car.” We drove through a deserted area for miles. We also landed in a hot air balloon, which was my first time lying down to get into one. Passing through a small town, a little girl tugged on my sleeve, pointing to her disabled father, asking if I could spare some change. We took a day to help her father get to the hospital. When we finally reached Alaska, we were a week behind schedule. Beauty had gone from being a timid little kitten to a bold, plump cat. Every time we arrived at a new accommodation, she was the first to jump down, patrol the area, and only then would she return to my side. The Northern Lights were breathtaking. I waited three hours in awe, marveling at the vibrant colors lighting up the sky. Beauty poked her head out of my jacket, the wind rustling her fur before she burrowed back inside. We had just agreed to go skiing next. Then, a strange number called my phone. “Serena, I’m your mother. Can we talk?” The unfamiliar voice took me back to the day of my father’s car accident. He had called me that day, excitedly telling me he had good news and wanted to introduce me to my mother. His voice had been filled with joy, stirring countless fantasies about meeting her. But soon after, I received the news of his passing, and the mother he spoke of never appeared. I handed the car keys over to them and boarded the plane with Beauty. At the airport, I stepped off the plane and saw Elijah. Standing next to him was a woman in a wheelchair. I recognized her immediately—she looked just like the woman in my father’s wallet. “Back already?” Elijah asked, but I pretended not to hear him.

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Before her death, my daughter was drugged, beaten, and abused for a long time— This was the autopsy report for Madeline. I’ve never been a good mother. After Maddie’s death, I can finally admit that. Night after night, I am haunted by nightmares, where she stands before me, drenched in blood, saying, “Mom, avenge me.” I pushed her into the abyss, all because I wanted her to be perfect. I spent everything I had, changed my appearance, and forged a new identity, all so I could infiltrate this high-end preschool. Don’t cry, Maddie. Mommy is here to get revenge. I removed the thick bandages wrapped around my head. When I looked in the mirror again, I couldn’t help but marvel. Such a beauty. With arched brows and deep-set eyes—a strange combination, but undeniably seductive. The cosmetic surgeon asked, “Can I use your photo as a model?” I smiled and declined. This face is better kept out of the public eye. A few days later, I went to Fairview Hills Academy to apply for a job as a preschool teacher. The assistant principal interviewed me. She was impressed with my qualifications, and after a series of questions, I passed the interview. As I was leaving, she asked, “With your proficiency in four languages and overseas experience, why do you want to be a preschool teacher?” I smiled, “Our nation’s future flowers are worth protecting.”

Three days later, I officially became a proud preschool teacher. The kids were absolutely adorable, surrounding me and calling me “Miss Cindy.” My colleague, a young woman named Jessica Monroe, laughed and said, “You’re amazing! The kids really like you.” I chuckled, teasing, “They like us both. Who can resist two young, pretty teachers?” After work, Jess smiled and waved as she said, “I’m heading out. My husband’s picking me up.” I followed her out until I saw her husband get out of the car to open the door for her. I hurried toward them, handing Jess a notebook from my bag. “Jess, you forgot your notebook.” She quickly took it and thanked me. Her husband, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, smiled at me as his eyes lingered. I looked away quickly, but Jess noticed the awkwardness between us. Jess looked at her husband with amusement, then grabbed my hand to introduce me. “This is my new colleague, the stunning Miss Cindy. You’ll be seeing her often.” Her husband extended his hand and introduced himself, “Zachary Monroe, doctor at Horizon Medical Center. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” I glanced at Jess nervously, then shyly reached out to shake Zach’s hand. Jess pulled Zach into the car quickly, her expression darkening. Ah, the curse of being too attractive. Always seen as a threat. Always assumed to be some kind of homewrecker.

As expected, Zach reached out to me. I had no idea how he got my number, but when he called, I acted flustered. I asked, “Does Jess know you’re asking to meet me?” He hesitated for a moment before responding, “How could she possibly know? I didn’t expect such a sultry beauty like you to ask such a… disappointing question.” I let out a sweet, gentle laugh. He asked, “So, do you want to meet up?” Without hesitation, I replied, “Of course. I’d love to. Just the two of us.” He laughed heartily and set the time and place. Tomorrow night, 10 PM at The Clock Tavern. Honestly, I was surprised he didn’t suggest a hotel. But I didn’t mind. Once the clothes come off, everyone looks the same anyway. The fun is in the flirtation before that. I arrived on time, dressed in a loose t-shirt and shorts. He looked shocked as I casually took a seat. Raising his glass, he smirked, “You’re… different.” “I’ll take that as a compliment,” I replied, mimicking his motion and raising my glass. “Thanks for the drink and the flattery.” Zach was a master of flirtation, taking his time—sometimes making me laugh with stories from work, sometimes switching to topics more suited for adults. I raised my glass again, “Who would’ve thought a doctor could tell raunchy jokes better than the average guy?” He downed his drink in one gulp. “What can I say? I’m only human. I need an outlet too. At least I’m not as bad as some who are… less than human.” My curiosity piqued. “Less than human? Do you mean they’re hiring escorts, or… worse?” He shook his head playfully, “Much worse.” I pouted, pretending to be annoyed. “You’re so annoying, leaving me curious like that.” He laughed heartily, “Do you really want to know?” I nodded eagerly, giving him my best innocent look. “Alright, you win. But you have to promise not to tell anyone.” He leaned in close, putting an arm around me, his fingers brushing the hair behind my ear. In a low voice, he whispered, “Some people… have violent tendencies. They like to abuse children.” I swallowed hard, trying to suppress the ache rising in my chest. “Really? That’s… sick.” Zach chuckled, tapping my cheek affectionately. “You scaredy-cat. Don’t worry, I’m not that kind of man.” “I like mature women. But playing innocent… that’s even better.” His fingers trailed down to my lips. I stared at them for a few seconds, then gently licked the tip of his finger with my tongue. I could feel his gaze ignite with desire. If we weren’t sitting in the middle of the tavern, I wondered if he’d have taken me right there.

The next day at work, Jess didn’t look well. I asked her if she was okay, but she just shook her head. Out of concern, I said, “If you’re not feeling well, you should rest in the office. I can handle things here.” Jess thought for a moment before nodding. “Thank you, Izzy. I appreciate it.” I smiled softly, telling her it was no trouble. By lunchtime, Jess still hadn’t shown up in the cafeteria. I brought some food back to the office and found her with swollen, red eyes. “Have you been crying?” I asked, worried. She hesitated for a long time, but maybe she couldn’t hold it in any longer. Her voice trembled as she opened up to me. “My husband didn’t come home until late last night. He wasn’t even on call, but he came home reeking of alcohol… then he just started yelling at me… and hitting me.” I quickly handed her some tissues, and she sobbed for a while before finally calming down. Jess said, “Izzy, thank you for being my shoulder to cry on.” I waved it off. “It’s no problem. We all have things we need to get off our chest sometimes.” She gave me a grateful look as she took the lunch I had brought her. In the blink of an eye, I’d been at Fairview Hills Academy for three months. During that time, I had gotten to know my colleagues well—even the security guards and janitors were on good terms with me. Everyone praised Miss Cindy for her beauty and high emotional intelligence. They said I was bound to go places. Some even complimented me directly to my face. I would just shake my head and say, “I have no ambition. As long as I can be a good teacher, I’m content.” This led them to say, “Miss Cindy is a breath of fresh air, a true gem among women. Graceful and understated.” I would just smile and stop trying to correct them. When people want to praise you, no matter what you say, they’ll think you’re right. And when they want to tear you down, no matter what you do, they’ll still find a way to criticize and hurt you. I’m sure Jess understood this all too well. She was always straightforward and wore her emotions on her sleeve. At just 27, she’d already become one of the top-ranked teachers in the city, earning her quite a bit of attention at the school. But with that attention came arrogance. She looked down on others, especially when compared to my humble attitude, which only made her seem more proud. In these three months, whenever she upset the other teachers, I was the one apologizing on her behalf. When she complained about the cafeteria food, I’d make sure to compliment the staff’s cooking. At first, people probably thought I was just her lackey. But over time, they realized—I was everyone’s little ray of sunshine. Jess’s reputation, however, continued to worsen. During the anonymous mid-year evaluations, she received over forty negative votes. The principal called her in for a meeting. Jess, being the proud person she was, couldn’t stand the humiliation and argued with the principal. It wasn’t a big deal at first, just words being exchanged, but the principal had enough and threatened to fire her. Jess sneered, slammed the desk, and loudly declared for everyone to hear: “No need to fire me. I quit!” Jess quit, and the principal was furious. Whether it was out of pride or genuine intent, she threatened to blacklist Jess. Oddly enough, Jess didn’t seem afraid. I wasn’t sure if she was incredibly brave or incredibly foolish. Fairview Hills Academy is the top-ranking elite preschool in the city. The woman who built it into what it is today didn’t rise to the top without some serious skills. If she really wanted to blacklist Jess, Jess would never be able to work as a preschool teacher again. As Jess left the classroom with her things, I shed a few genuine tears. Maybe I was the only one in this entire school who would truly miss her. She smiled at me, unbothered, and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll be back.” Seeing my confusion, she leaned in close and whispered in my ear, “I know the principal’s secret.”

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I was reborn. In my previous life, I married Jack Zhou. After our wedding, his sister Fiona would frequently come over with her kids to mooch off us. Jack and I would argue. Fiona directly introduced him to a mistress. I divorced Jack and took our son with me. I scrimped and saved to raise our child. I helped him start his own family. Just when I thought I could finally enjoy life, the doctor told me I had stomach cancer. In the end, I died in pain. Now that I have a second chance at life, I refuse to be a bitter wife again. As my son’s heartbroken cries faded away, I felt my body becoming lighter and lighter. I wanted to tell my son not to be sad, to think of me as going to a better place in heaven. But when I opened my eyes, I found myself in a room that was both strange and familiar. After carefully looking around for a while, I realized it was the bedroom Jack and I had shared. Looking at my reflection in the mirror, decades younger, I pinched myself hard to confirm that I had really been reborn. Where was Ethan? Right, my son. Thinking of my child, I rushed out of the room. That’s when I saw the malted milk powder I had bought for Ethan opened on the table. My son was staring at it longingly, while Fiona’s three children each had a cup and were drinking happily. My mother-in-law saw me and quickly made a cup for Ethan too, looking a bit guilty. “Maggie, did we wake you up?” I didn’t say anything, just picked up Ethan and hugged him tightly, unable to get enough of his sweet baby scent. Ethan was only two years old now. He had always been small and frail as a child. For his sake, I had denied myself food and new clothes, trying to save every penny I could to help him grow up healthy. My sister-in-law Fiona, on the other hand, loved romance and indulgence. Even after her husband passed away, she didn’t change. She could spend a month’s salary on a pair of designer heels without blinking. Her three children often went hungry and poorly dressed. Every few days, my in-laws would bring them over to “improve their nutrition.” At mealtimes, they ate like refugees. Ethan and I were often left with just leftovers. Although Jack didn’t give me his salary, I was working and paying my share of living expenses to my in-laws. But my son and I still couldn’t even eat our fill in this house. My father-in-law, mother-in-law and Jack spoiled Fiona beyond reason. Despite being an ordinary family, she wore designer clothes and shoes. After I divorced Jack in my previous life, he remarried and had to support his new family. Fiona’s three kids were older by then and cost even more. They all started to struggle financially. Only then did Fiona begin to give up her pursuit of luxury brands. I took Ethan back to our room and pulled out my bankbook. It showed 500 yuan that I had painstakingly saved. It was the 1980s now. The wave of economic reforms was sweeping across the country. In my previous life, the factory I worked at announced its closure two years later. After losing that job, I could only find work as a waitress or doing odd jobs. So even when faced with Jack’s betrayal, no matter how angry and resentful I felt, I didn’t dare initiate a divorce. We dragged on until Ethan was 10 years old. By then, Jack’s mistress was pregnant. Only then was I forced to leave with Ethan. Now that I’ve been reborn, I refuse to be a bitter wife again. That afternoon, I took Ethan to visit several of my good friends. I managed to borrow another 300 yuan from them. The next day at work, I submitted my resignation to the workshop director. With the factory’s poor performance lately, the director approved my resignation quickly. I took Ethan back to my parents’ home in the countryside. I gave my parents 100 yuan and asked them to help take care of Ethan. I said I would come back for him in three months. By this time, Jack was already living as husband and wife with his mistress in the employee dormitory, thanks to Fiona’s matchmaking. In the eyes of my in-laws and Jack, I was an unreasonable troublemaker. They probably thought I was up to no good by taking the child back to my parents. So I wasn’t worried about them coming to bother me. That evening, I boarded a train to S City. At the wholesale market there, I used my remaining money to buy several dozen pairs of jeans. Then I took them to the provincial capital to sell. In less than half a day, all the jeans were sold out. I did some calculations. In less than half a day, my net profit was 200 yuan. To be on the safe side, I chose a nicer looking hotel. After checking the doors and windows carefully, I hung a cup on the doorknob before falling into a deep sleep. The next day, I continued to buy inventory at the wholesale market, then resold it in the provincial capital. After a month of early mornings and late nights, I calculated that I had earned several thousand yuan. At that time, a house in my hometown only cost a few thousand yuan. In other words, I had earned in one month what an average person would make in ten years. I deposited the money in the bank, then put on my old shabby clothes and took the train back home. First, I bought lots of gifts and returned to my parents’ home. After a month apart, Ethan looked pretty good under my parents’ care – his cheeks had filled out a bit. My brother and sister-in-law were genuinely happy to see the gifts I brought. After distributing the presents, I stayed one night before returning to the city. I went to my friends’ homes to repay the money I had borrowed. I also bought them gifts to thank them for helping me in my time of need. Finally, I returned to my in-laws’ home. Jack happened to be there too. My in-laws didn’t show much expression when they saw me return. Jack looked at me with disgust: “Are you done with your month-long tantrum?” I smiled slightly. Biased people will always be biased. Ethan had been away with me for a month, but they hadn’t even asked once how he was doing. I got straight to the point: “Let’s get divorced. I’ll take custody of our son.” My father-in-law immediately smashed his teacup. Jack also asked angrily: “Maggie, what kind of nonsense are you talking now?” I snorted coldly: “You don’t care about me or our child. Divorce is best for both of us. I’ll raise the child myself. I know what you’ve been up to at your factory, even if I haven’t said anything. If you won’t divorce me, I’ll tell everyone about it and let them judge. Your sister finding women for her brother? What kind of people are you? If you push me too far, I’ll report you for bigamy.” My father-in-law slammed the table: “Maggie, you’ve gone too far.” I laughed coldly: “You didn’t think it was too much when your daughter-in-law had to raise a child alone. You didn’t think it was too much when your daughter found a mistress for your son. But now that I want a divorce, you think it’s too much? Your standards for what’s ‘too much’ are quite flexible. I guess only your own children are human, and everyone else doesn’t matter?” In the past, I had tried to be respectful of my elders. So even when faced with my in-laws’ bias, although I was unhappy, I would back down as soon as they got angry. Living this life over again, who would still treat them like saints? Morally upright elders deserve respect in their old age. But people with poor character are just nasty old folks when they age. My mother-in-law came over: “Maggie, you’re a mother too. You may feel we’re biased, but Fiona is my daughter as well. Forcing us to abandon her – isn’t that unreasonable of you?” Just then, Fiona returned home with her three children. I looked at Fiona’s outfit. Her hair was freshly permed. I had seen the same coat at the wholesale market – even the wholesale price was 200 yuan. Add in the dress and high heels, this outfit cost at least 500 yuan. That was her entire year’s salary. She looked nothing like a girl from an ordinary family – more like a rich young lady. “It’s not wrong for you to care about your daughter. I care about my son too. He has a father but it’s like he doesn’t. Since you won’t take care of him, I’ll take him with me. Stop wasting time. Let’s get divorced.” As soon as Fiona heard this, she pulled her three children behind her and shouted at me: “Sister-in-law, what have I done to offend you? Why do you dislike me so much? Is it not okay for me to bring my kids to my parents’ home?”

“You’re right, there’s no problem with you bringing your kids to your parents’ home. So now I’m also taking my child back to my parents’ home.” I realized there was no point trying to reason with them. So I spoke directly to Jack: “Jack, say something. Are we getting divorced or not? If not, I’m going to find that Lily at your factory. I’d like to ask her if she has any shame, an unmarried girl living with a married man.” Jack raised his hand to slap me. I grabbed his arm and pushed him away. My mother-in-law and Fiona came to stop me. I pushed them away too, one in each hand. I grew up in the countryside and had done plenty of farm work. I still had some strength in me. I certainly wasn’t going to stand there and be hit. My mother-in-law stumbled to the side. Fiona steadied her mother and cursed at me: “Maggie, you shrew! My brother was truly blind to marry you.” “Say what you want. Jack, are you divorcing me or not? If not, I’m leaving. Just don’t regret it later.” My in-laws stared at Jack. Fiona spoke up: “Brother, divorce her. Let’s see if she still dares to make such a scene.” Jack took a deep breath: “Fine, we can divorce. But you can’t have custody of our son.” I just smiled: “Jack, after we divorce, you’ll marry Lily and have another child. Add in Ethan, you’ll have to support two children plus help out your sister. Are you sure your salary is enough? If I take Ethan, I’ll only spend money on him. He’ll have a much better life with me than with you. Think it over. Tomorrow at 9 AM, let’s meet at the Civil Affairs Bureau.” With that, I turned and left my in-laws’ home. I went straight to stay at a local guesthouse. I believed that after a night of consideration, Jack would give up Ethan. After all, he had done so in my previous life. The next day, Jack brought the necessary documents and met me at the Civil Affairs Bureau. With the official stamp, my marriage to Jack was officially over. In front of the Civil Affairs Bureau, Jack said: “You can have custody of the child. But you should still let my parents see him every few months.” I nodded in agreement. Let them see. Without them, Ethan and I would have such a good life. That night I returned to my parents’ home in the countryside. As I held my son in my arms that evening, I was determined to give him a better future. Before returning to S City, I gave my mother another 100 yuan. I told her not to skimp on spending money. My nephew was already three years old, and my sister-in-law was pregnant with her second child. Including Ethan, all the adults and children needed proper nutrition. I didn’t want my sister-in-law to feel I was overstepping. I understood the need for boundaries now that my brother was married. In my previous life, my brother had taken care of me a lot after my divorce. Whenever I visited home with Ethan, my sister-in-law was always very welcoming, cooking chicken and duck for us. In this life, now that I had the means, I definitely wanted to help them out. Over the next six months, I would send 100 yuan back home every few months. The rest of the money, I held onto tightly. I had already made plans. While property prices were still low, I would buy a commercial space first. During the day I could run my clothing business, and at night I could sleep there to save on rent. Money makes money. Then I would buy a house. I could bring Ethan to the city for a good education. Before the New Year that year, I bought my first commercial space and house. I personally handled all the renovations and inventory. Then I returned home with luggage full of gifts. My sister-in-law couldn’t stop admiring the clothes I bought her. For my brother, I got a pair of leather shoes. I bought alcohol for my father and a new cotton jacket for my mother. Although my parents were happy, their expressions couldn’t hide their worry.

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I’ve always wondered if professional figure models experience physical reactions during their work. My wife’s experience taught me that it can happen, but they have special techniques to manage it. My name is James Wilson. Despite my average looks, I managed to marry a beautiful model! The first time I saw my wife was when she was working as a car show model. Her long legs in black stockings immediately caught my eye. My gaze traveled up her short skirt, which barely contained her shapely behind, making me swallow hard. Further up was her slim waist and her chest straining against the thin straps of her top. Suddenly, she bent down, covering her chest with her hand, and flashed me a sweet smile. In that instant, my heart melted! With sheer persistence and three months of relentless pursuit, I finally won her over. In my mind, a wife as beautiful as her shouldn’t be on display for others to see, so I persuaded her to change jobs. She understood my jealousy and quickly resigned after we got married. But on the third day after she quit, I suddenly received several photos in my email. “Look how wild your wife really is!” the message read. When I opened them, the photos were dimly lit. They showed a woman with a curvaceous figure, her body covered in body paint, swaying seductively on stage. But something seemed off about her state. Her eyes were unfocused, her legs were pressed together, and her hands were roaming over sensitive parts of her body. It didn’t look like she was walking a runway; it looked more like she was in heat! The photos were like a flipbook, showing a sequence of events. Suddenly, a man appeared and gave her bottom a hard slap, leaving a clear handprint. Seeing this, my blood instantly rushed to my head! Was that my wife?! Besides the familiar figure, there was a birthmark on her rear that I would never mistake! My whole body trembled, my teeth clenched, and the veins in my hands bulged as I nearly crushed my phone. What the hell was going on? Who sent these photos? Were they trying to blackmail me, or just mess with my head? I tried asking, and the sender quickly replied: “Nude models always release their tension before going on stage to avoid physiological reactions. They drain every last bit of desire! Your wife was really wild on stage today! What’s wrong, did you two have an unsatisfying night?” Nude model? My first instinct was to curse back. My wife was just a regular model, and she had already quit. She wasn’t that kind of woman! But just as I had typed out a long angry response, I suddenly remembered what happened last night. Last night, my wife had indeed called me, telling me to wash up and wait for her in bed. But the project I was responsible for suddenly had issues, and I worked overtime until late at night. When I got home, she was still very proactive, but I had neither the mood nor the energy to do anything with her… Soon after, I received another email. “Your wife has another show tomorrow. She’ll definitely have needs tonight, so perform well!” After that, no matter how many emails I sent, the sender didn’t reply. With a complicated mood, I left work early and waited for her at home. I had even downloaded the photos, ready to confront Olivia. “Honey, come give me a massage. I’m exhausted…” Olivia complained as soon as she entered the door. She kicked off her high heels, sat on the couch, and put her legs on my lap. Looking at those round thighs wrapped in black stockings, I couldn’t help but think of the content in the photos. I pushed her away without any tenderness. Olivia pouted, looking innocent and wronged. “Honey, what’s wrong? Didn’t I listen to you and quit my job? I went to several job interviews today, my legs are so tired!” I stared at her intently: “You really went for interviews?” Olivia stretched lazily, revealing a strip of her flat, white belly: “Why would I lie to you? Hurry up and massage my legs, I’m so tired. I want to go to bed early tonight…” As she spoke, she yawned. Seeing her exhausted face, which didn’t seem fake, I began to have doubts. Did I get it wrong? I took a deep breath and reached into her clothes, but she slapped my hand away. “Stop it, I’m really too tired! If you want to do it, wait until tomorrow!” She must have been really exhausted because after I massaged her legs for a bit, she started snoring lightly. I gritted my teeth and, following her thigh, gently lifted her skirt…

I lifted the skirt and looked carefully. There was no handprint! At that moment, I was completely relieved. The person who sent the email was indeed just trying to mess with me! I even took out the photos and compared them again, but unfortunately, the photos were too blurry, and the model was covered in body paint, making it impossible to see her face clearly. I carried my wife back to the bedroom to sleep, then sat on the couch and chain-smoked several cigarettes. First, I couldn’t doubt my wife because of a few blurry photos. It wasn’t easy to marry such a beautiful wife. Once there’s a crisis of trust, the cracks in our relationship would be irreparable. Secondly, even if the model in the photos was really Olivia… It must have happened before she met me! At least since we’ve been together, she’s been completely open with me and obediently quit her job as I asked. Although I felt a bit uneasy, who doesn’t have a past? As long as she’s willing to settle down and live a good life with me, I’m willing to accept everything about her. I took a deep breath and stubbed out my cigarette. When that bastard who sent the email asks for money and reveals their true colors, I’ll immediately report them to the police and drag them out! At this moment, my phone chimed with another email. “So, was your wife very proactive last night?” Seeing the new email, I angrily replied. “Stop messing with me! How much money do you want?” This time, the other person took a long time to reply. “Haha, there are still good people in this world, helping to relieve your wife’s pressure and even giving you a green hat to wear! Here’s the address for tomorrow’s show. I invite you to watch the good show!” After this, the email sender disappeared again, as if into thin air. This feeling was particularly torturous. If they had really made demands, I would have felt more at ease. This neither-here-nor-there situation was just deliberately keeping me on edge, wasn’t it? With an uneasy heart, I didn’t sleep well all night. The next morning, when my wife got up to go out, I was still in a daze. “Where are you going for an interview today?” “Ocean View Tower!” she said as she applied her lipstick and stepped into her high heels. I suddenly woke up. Wasn’t this the address for the show mentioned in the email? I immediately got up, not bothering to wash up, put on a baseball cap, sunglasses, and a mask, and hurriedly followed her. But as soon as I left the community, I lost sight of her. “Ocean View Tower!” I didn’t dare to drive my own car, so I took a taxi there. I found a small company according to the address. There were indeed many people queuing at the entrance, but they were mostly men. I didn’t see my wife at all. I gave a cigarette to the security guard at the door. “What positions is your company recruiting for? There are so many people. Where are the women queuing? Why are there only men?” The security guard rolled his eyes at me. “They’re all men, what are you pretending for? If you want to see women, just queue up obediently. The show is about to start! Pay the fee first, $188!” My brain suddenly went blank, and I stood there stunned. “Show? What show?” The security guard frowned: “Are you here for an interview? Sorry, you don’t meet our company’s requirements. Please leave!” As he spoke, he forcefully pushed me out. Another security guard also walked over quickly, seemingly afraid I would cause trouble. At this moment, I really felt my blood freeze, my mind went blank. But soon, I came to my senses and squeezed out a smile. “Brother, don’t be hasty! I’m here to see the nude models. I was just a bit excited earlier…” Hearing the words “nude models” and seeing me take out several bills and stuff them into his hand, the security guard’s expression improved a bit. “First time watching the show, huh? Don’t know the rules! Hurry up and pay!” After transferring the money on my phone, my mind was in a mess as I followed the queue into this so-called company. After several twists and turns, we entered a large hall. Below the T-stage, there were at least a hundred seats, all filled with men. Suddenly, the lights dimmed. Amidst the noise, a group of women wearing Japanese fox masks walked onto the stage with cat-like steps. They were only covered by a thin veil, which slowly slid off as they moved their bodies. I immediately spotted that familiar figure! I knew every inch of Olivia’s skin all too well. She really was doing nude modeling!

“Whoosh!” I suddenly stood up, clenching my fists. I wanted to rush onto the stage immediately, tear off Olivia’s mask, and confront her! Why did she lie to me? But as soon as I stood up, several nearby security guards fixed their eyes on me, their rubber batons at the ready. A man next to me grabbed my arm. “Bro, calm down. There’ll be a chance to go on stage later! If you rush up now, security will kick you out immediately!” I took a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. Rushing up now would definitely get me stopped, and I wouldn’t be able to get any substantial evidence to prove that woman was Olivia! Seeing me sit down, the security guards didn’t pursue the matter. It was then that I noticed almost all the men around me were like me, wearing hats, sunglasses, and masks, completely covering themselves. The fat guy beside me smiled and advised me. “First time here, right? Don’t be shy. The first time I watched this kind of show, I was even more eager than you! Take my advice, don’t do anything rash here, or you won’t even know how you died!” As he spoke, he took out his phone and lecherously recorded videos, commenting on each model. “Number two’s figure is so hot! Number five’s long legs are just incredible! And number eight’s body, tsk tsk…” I snatched his phone. The number eight he mentioned was Olivia! The fat guy got anxious: “What are you messing around for? What, you’ve got your eye on number eight too?” “That chick is really wild, I can’t wait! I won’t give up the chance to go on stage to you!” Suppressing my anger, I asked, “What do you mean, go on stage?” The fat guy sneered disdainfully. “You’re really a newbie. Going on stage is for body painting, of course. Do you understand art?” Before he could explain clearly, the host came out to explain a few things. He said he would select a few audience members to go on stage and personally apply various body paints to the models, calling it “artistic creation”! “What kind of art is this? It’s vulgar and degrading!” I couldn’t help but curse. The fat guy glanced at me sideways: “Then don’t fight me for number eight later!” I was so angry I almost hit the fat guy! When the host was selecting lucky audience members, I was the first to rush up, unhesitatingly choosing number eight. This was my best chance to expose Olivia! The fat guy was too slow and cursed at me from behind, calling me a hypocrite and a bastard. The host smiled and said, “I can see that all the distinguished guests present are true art lovers! But I still need to remind you again, when applying the body paint later, don’t deliberately tease the models’ sensitive areas!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “294803”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #惊悚Thriller #重生Reborn #魔幻Magic #励志Inspiring #浪漫Romance #擦边Steamy