After Saving the Obsessive CEO, I Embarked on My Journey Abroad With my studies completed, I secretly returned home, eager to surprise him. However, I was shocked to hear from a friend about the rumors spreading in my absence. They said I had died in a car accident. When I saw Xavier Cooper again, he was furiously kicking a girl in the stomach. His breathing was heavy, his voice filled with restrained fury. “Haven’t I told you all already? No one can ever replace her!” I stood at the entrance of the Cooper Estate, completely dumbfounded. I looked around, blinking in disbelief. Has it really been only a few years? How has he managed to move into an entire estate? I glanced at the driver again, confirming for the second time if this was really Xavier Cooper’s place. Only when he nodded did I gather the courage to step forward. As I approached the large house, I noticed two maids standing by the door. One of them was Fiona, someone I had known since childhood. I was just about to greet her with a smile when she looked at me without any surprise, her expression unchanged. Before I could speak, Fiona rolled her eyes and beckoned me closer. “Oh, seriously, aren’t you all tired of this game yet? Every day, another replacement shows up. Master Cooper has made it clear – he’d never marry anyone but Miss Lucy. Now that Miss Lucy is dead, all these lookalikes just keep coming in. It’s exhausting.” She gave me a quick glance, her eyes narrowing in surprise. Before I could ask her anything, she nudged the other maid beside her and whispered, “Look, this one really resembles her. Eighty or ninety percent at least. Maybe this time the Master will finally take an interest.” “Enough already,” the other maid muttered, disinterested, “it’s not for us to decide whether he likes her or not. Just take her inside.” Fiona, clearly bored, waved at me to follow her into the house. The large, dark door loomed in front of me, sending an ominous shiver down my spine. Sweat dampened my grip on the handle of my suitcase. Fiona turned back to me with a hint of annoyance in her voice. “What are you standing around for? Come on. Why on earth are you dragging a suitcase? Don’t tell me you think the Master would actually fall for you?” I ignored her taunts because my mind was racing. What on earth was going on? What happened in the years I’ve been away?

Fiona led me into a room that resembled a bedroom. But honestly, it was as big as a regular living room. It was dark, everything coated in a greyish mist like it hadn’t been touched in a while. I was just squinting to make out the details when the door slammed shut behind me. I jumped, rushing to the door, only to find it locked from the outside. I swallowed hard. The bad feeling in my gut was quickly turning into full-blown panic. Suddenly, the silence of the room was shattered by a heavy thud, followed by a woman’s desperate cries. “Mr. Cooper, please spare me! I was a fool to try and pretend to be Miss Lucy. I won’t do it again, I swear!” My eyes adjusted to the dark, and I could make out two shadows. A tall, broad-shouldered man stood over a woman who was kneeling at his feet, pleading desperately. But he didn’t give her time to beg. With one swift kick, he knocked her to the ground. I flinched as something flew past me. The woman clutched her face, but Xavier wasn’t finished. He kept kicking her, each strike landing with a thud. “You think you can impersonate Lucy?” he spat. “She’s a thousand, no, a million times better than any of you. And don’t think I don’t know what you’re after. I’ve warned you all before.” His kicks grew harder, fiercer. The woman’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. She stretched out her hand toward me, as if pleading for help. Paralyzed by fear, I sank to the floor, clasping my hands over my mouth to keep myself from screaming. Unfortunately, it didn’t matter. Xavier had already noticed me. He kicked the woman aside and began striding towards me. Tears welled up in my eyes as I scrambled towards the door. Xavier looked down at me with disdain. “Well? Who sent you this time? You’ve got a pretty weak stomach for a spy.” The word spy caught my attention, but I didn’t have time to think about it. Survival came first. My back hit the wall, my last escape route cut off. He walked over, humming a little tune like a cat playing with its prey. I pressed against the wall, desperately thinking of a way to save myself. Clearly, in the years I’ve been away, Xavier had completely lost it. He’s become some kind of sadistic lunatic. My brain, already slow under pressure, completely shut down. I stared blankly as he reached me, trapping me against the wall. I felt his gaze sweep over me, cold and heavy. He leaned in, and I instinctively shrank away, but before I could beg, his strong hands wrapped around my throat. His grip was tight, and within seconds I couldn’t breathe. I tried to twist my neck free, but his hold only grew stronger. He leaned in close, his breath icy against my ear. “Let’s see just how much you look like her, shall we?” I turned my head away, avoiding his gaze, but he laughed coldly. Grabbing my chin, he forced me to face him. Our eyes met. For a moment, everything was silent. His long eyelashes trembled, his lips pale and quivering. There was a strange glimmer in his dark eyes, almost as if he was about to cry. Then, after a moment, he shook his head, muttering to himself. “You look just like her. But…you can’t be her.” His eyes filled with a complicated emotion as he stared at me. He pressed his lips together, deep in thought. The grip around my throat loosened slightly. “I’ll give you one chance,” he said, his voice cold and detached. “Tell me who sent you, and I might just spare you. But don’t ever show your face here again.” I had no idea what he was talking about. Who sent me? No one sent me. I came here on my own. He released my throat, expecting me to speak. I coughed a few times and then blurted out that I truly didn’t know what he was talking about. Xavier’s anger flared once more. His grip tightened again, his eyes flashing with danger. “Speak. Who sent you? My patience is running out.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” I cried. “No one sent me. Are you deaf?” Tears began to roll down my face as I spoke. Xavier’s expression faltered for a moment, but he steeled himself, tightening his hold once again. Everything was growing dark. Just then, a thought flashed through my mind—his weakness. Did it still work? Using every ounce of strength I had left, I jabbed my thumb into the space between his second and third ribs. I remembered that spot well. He got that scar while protecting me from a human trafficker.

I jabbed as hard as I could. Xavier hissed in pain, his grip loosening for just a moment. I gasped for air, finally able to breathe again. Taking advantage of the moment, I struggled to get up, trying to make a break for the door. But before I could move far, his hand shot out and grabbed me by the wrist. My heart sank. This was it. I’d hurt him, and now he was going to kill me for real. I turned to face him, expecting to see pure rage on his face. But instead, his expression was one of pure confusion, as if he couldn’t quite understand what had just happened. He gingerly touched the small scar on his rib, his eyes wide with shock. “How… how do you know about this?” His voice cracked, his tone more frantic than ever. “Who told you about this? Do you… do you know Lucy?” Xavier’s gaze turned desperate, and he reached for me again, his voice trembling as he begged. “Tell me where she is! Please, I’ll give you anything. A million… ten million… no, a hundred million pounds! I’ll give you one hundred million, just tell me where Lucy is!” I stared at him, completely stunned. He was losing it. After hesitating for a moment, I forced myself to speak, my voice coming out more awkward than I’d hoped. “I am Lucy Ward, remember? It’s been a long time. Five years, actually. You’ve upgraded to an estate since then, huh? By the way, about that one hundred million pounds… is that offer still good?” Xavier froze, blinking at me as if he couldn’t process what I’d just said. He looked me up and down several times before slowly opening his mouth and reciting the words we had jokingly agreed upon all those years ago. “One… two… three… four… five.” I couldn’t help but respond, my voice weak. “And Cooper is… five foot five.” We had made that joke when we were younger, back when he really was just five foot five. Now, though, in just five years, he’d grown so tall I couldn’t even reach his shoulder. Xavier’s lips quivered, and then, with a sudden burst of movement, he slapped himself hard across the face. “I’m not dreaming, am I?” His voice trembled. “It’s really you. Lucy, you’re alive.” The look in his eyes sent a wave of unease through me. Surely he wouldn’t try to use the dream excuse to get out of paying the one hundred million, right? I quickly spoke up. “No, you’re definitely not dreaming, so don’t even think about backing out on the one hundred million you promised.” Xavier’s mouth twitched slightly, then he lifted my hand, resting his head against it. “One hundred million isn’t nearly enough. How about this—I’ll give you myself instead. I’m worth five billion.” I stared at him in disbelief. Five billion? Was it really that easy? Before I could fully process his words, he scooped me up effortlessly, lifting me into the air. I was stunned, staring at his face, which was now much too close to mine. His warm breath tickled my cheek, making my thoughts sluggish. I snapped back to reality and began to struggle. “What are you doing? Put me down right now!” Xavier smirked, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Lulu, since I’m offering myself to you, shouldn’t you give me something in return?” Without another word, he carried me toward the bed. Realizing his intentions, I started thrashing in his arms, but before I could stop him, he had already thrown me onto the mattress. He climbed on top of me, beginning to undo his shirt.

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In the open kitchen, Hector stood right behind me, trapping me against the counter. One hand slipped toward my apron, while the other casually grabbed a blueberry and pushed it toward my mouth. My face flushed. He smirked, his voice full of teasing. “Sis, you’ve got quite the bite.” From the dining area across the room, Mommy Jenny turned her head and looked at me, confused. “Jenny, are you cold? Why are you shivering?” I never thought that the person I had a crush on for three years would end up becoming my stepbrother. The day I moved into the Gayle family’s house with my mom, I stood by the front door, completely drenched, water dripping from my hair and clothes. Hector slowly strolled up with an empty bucket in his hand, his eyes scanning me up and down with a wicked smile. “Oops, my bad, slipped.” He paused for a second, his tone mocking. “But with how little you’re wearing, maybe you wanted to cool off anyway.” I looked down at my soaked white shirt, realizing you could faintly see my bra through the fabric. Panicked, I quickly covered myself with my arms. Hector’s grin widened, even more shameless. He definitely saw everything! The thought sent a wave of heat rushing to my face. “Hector!” Samuel rushed over. A jacket with a light scent of soap fell on my shoulders, and Samuel stood protectively in front of me. “Jenny, go change your clothes. I’ll deal with him in a bit.” I was ushered into the downstairs bathroom, my heart still racing. It was my first time seeing Hector since I’d developed feelings for him years ago. He was just as handsome as before, if not more. But he clearly wasn’t happy to see me. I guess I couldn’t blame him. After all, my mom did disrupt his family. Bam bam bam! A loud knock on the door made me jump back several steps, startled. “Hector?” I muttered nervously as his voice came from the other side. “Brought you some clothes.” My heart, which had just started to calm down, went wild again. I stared at myself in the mirror—drenched, disheveled—and didn’t dare open the door. But Hector wasn’t giving up. He started twisting the doorknob, only to find it locked. “Open the door, or I’ll kick it down.” I knew he meant it. When Hector made a threat, he always followed through. Scanning the room in a panic, I grabbed a towel and draped it over myself. By the time he reached the count of three, I rushed to the door and swung it open. Hector leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, holding my clothes over his elbow. He was tall, and with a slight tilt of his head, he looked down at me. His sharp features stood out—perfect eyebrows, a strong nose with a small mole on its tip. His eyes flicked down to my chest, and his lips curled into a sneer. “What’s the point of covering up? Didn’t you want to show it off?” “It’s not like that,” I whispered defensively, the hurt in my voice bubbling to the surface. I never wanted to show off to anyone. “Jenny, stop pretending. Your mom’s a homewrecker, and you’re just a little temptress. She seduced my dad, and now you’re here trying to seduce my brother.” His brow furrowed in irritation. “Take off my brother’s jacket!” I froze. If I took it off, he’d see everything. But if I didn’t, he’d get mad. “Take it off,” he repeated. I clutched the towel tighter, my eyes shifting to the clothes he held. “Give me the dry clothes first.” Hector lifted the bundle of clothes slightly, just out of reach. I reached for them, but he jerked them back. “Want them? Beg me,” he said, tilting his head with a sly grin. “Just give them to me!” I lunged for the clothes. Hector quickly raised them higher. No matter how much I jumped, I couldn’t reach. How tall was he, exactly?! I tried again, putting even more effort into the jump, but just as I reached for them, I lost my balance, falling forward, and crashed right into Hector’s chest. “Tsk.” I heard him chuckle. “What, you trying to pull the same tricks as your mom? Think you can seduce me?” Hector’s voice dripped with sarcasm. Suddenly aware of my position, I realized my whole body was pressed up against him, my upper half especially. And worse, the towel I’d draped around myself was slipping, barely covering anything. I quickly pulled the towel back around me and turned away, hiding my face in shame. “What’s the matter? Not going to keep going?” Hector mocked, his voice cold. “You’ll never seduce my brother with tricks like that.” I wasn’t trying to seduce anyone. But no matter what I said now, Hector wouldn’t believe me. Tears welled up in my eyes, my heart aching with the weight of his misunderstanding. I knew Hector hated me, and hated my mom too. His mom had just passed away when we moved in, and my mom had taken her place. Of course he hated me. I understood that. But I couldn’t stand being so unfairly accused. “Hector!” Samuel’s voice cut through the tension. “What the hell are you doing? Standing outside a girl’s bathroom? What kind of manners are those?” “Why are you always on her side, bro?” “Jenny’s new here, you should be looking out for her. And by the way, she’s older than you, so show some respect. Hand her the clothes.” Hector shot me a glare but finally tossed the clothes to me, gritting his teeth. “Here you go, sis. Make sure you take care of them.” Samuel sighed, turning to me apologetically. “Sorry, Jenny. He’s always been a bit of a jerk. Go ahead and get changed.” I took the clothes, whispering a quiet “thank you” before closing the door. Once they were gone, I sat in the bathroom, clutching the dry clothes in my arms. Tears streamed down my face. I’d had a crush on Hector for three years, only to end up his step-sister and the target of his resentment.

After I changed into fresh clothes, Samuel mentioned that the whole family would be having dinner together later. Before moving in with the Gayles, I already knew Samuel. He was my teacher’s top student, and apparently, this connection mattered now. True to his responsible nature, he made sure to take care of me, just like my teacher had told him to. At the dinner table, my mom couldn’t keep her eyes off Mr. Gayle, as if she’d forgotten I even existed. I didn’t want to attract attention either, so I ate in silence. But of course, Mr. Gayle couldn’t resist bringing me up. “I hear Jenny’s in the same school as Samuel, what a small world,” he said, nodding approvingly at me. “If you need anything, just ask Samuel. He’s reliable.” “I will, Mr. Gayle,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. Mr. Gayle beamed, “Such a sweet girl.” No sooner had he said that than Hector made a scoffing noise, stabbing his chopsticks into his bowl. “What an act.” Mr. Gayle’s face darkened immediately. “Hector, show some respect.” Samuel gave him a warning look too. “Jenny just moved in. She’s a girl, and you should be looking after her.” I braced myself for Hector to argue, but instead, he said with a smirk, “Fine, I’ll make sure to take real good care of her from now on. Build some family bonding time.” He turned to me with a smile that made my skin crawl. Though he behaved the rest of dinner, I could feel the tension simmering underneath. Afterwards, I quickly excused myself and went back to my room. While I was unpacking, someone knocked at the door. I figured it was probably my mom, so I opened it without thinking. But when I looked up, I saw Hector standing there. I froze for a moment before instinctively trying to shut the door, but Hector wedged his foot between it and the frame. “You—” I started. Before I could finish, he forced his way inside, slamming the door shut behind him. Bang. He shut the door behind him, crossing his arms as he casually leaned against it. “What… what are you doing?” I backed away instinctively, putting as much distance between us as possible. Hector’s eyes roamed the room before they landed back on me. “Do you like my brother?” What? Where did that come from? I quickly shook my head. “Really?” Hector tilted his head. “Isn’t that why you moved in here? To get close to him?” “I didn’t,” I denied, but he wasn’t listening. He stepped closer, looking down at me. His height made it impossible to escape his gaze. “Then why’d you move in? Your mom said you weren’t too keen on the idea.” My stomach churned. There was no way I could tell him the truth — that the only reason I moved in was because I found out he’d come back home. I stayed silent, and Hector took my lack of response as an admission. His eyes narrowed. “So it’s true. Little temptress, trying to seduce my brother, huh?” I clenched my fists, trying to keep my voice steady. “You’re wrong. Now please leave.” Hector scowled, leaning in even closer. “Stop playing games with me, Jenny. Don’t you dare try to seduce him.” I bit my lip, helpless, unable to explain myself. Before Hector could say anything else, there was another knock at the door. It was Samuel’s voice on the other side. “Jenny, it’s me, Samuel. Do you have a minute?” Just as I was about to answer, Hector’s hand shot out, covering my mouth. My eyes widened in shock as I tried to pull his hand away, but his grip was firm. He leaned in, pressing me against the door, and whispered, “Shh. Don’t make a sound.” My heart raced as panic set in. Hector was so close, his warm breath against my cheek. I struggled, trying to push him away, but it only made him grin. “Jenny?” Samuel called again, sounding concerned. I tried to squirm free, but Hector held me even tighter. And then, to my utter disbelief, he kissed me. My brain short-circuited. Hector was kissing me. On the other side of the door, Samuel was waiting for a response while I was trapped, locked in a kiss with his brother. The realization made my blood rush to my face. I pushed at Hector’s chest, but he only deepened the kiss, his free hand pinning mine above my head. “Jenny, are you okay?” Samuel’s voice was more urgent now. Desperate, I mustered all my strength and kicked Hector’s leg as hard as I could. “Ow, Jenny, damn!” Hector hissed, finally letting me go, rubbing his leg with a pained expression. “Are you really that eager to open the door for him?” he teased, but his eyes darkened. “I wonder what he’d think if he saw you like this…” “What are you talking about?” I asked, horrified. He leaned in closer, his voice a low growl. “He doesn’t know you like him, does he? What do you think he’d do if he found out you’ve been in here, making out with his little brother?” Fear gripped me as I realized what he was saying. I stared up at him, wide-eyed. “You wouldn’t.” Hector didn’t respond. Instead, he slowly reached behind me, his hand hovering near the doorknob. I panicked, my voice trembling. “Please don’t open the door. Please.” His hand paused, and he glanced down at me, amused. “Begging now, huh? What happened to that bravado earlier?” His smirk faded as he pressed me closer, the heat of his body overwhelming me. If Samuel saw us like this… Hector’s fingers brushed the doorknob. “No, don’t!” I whispered desperately, trying to push him away. I could feel his grin against my ear. “Tell me what I want to hear, and maybe I won’t.” My heart pounded as I tried to think of something to say that would stop this. If Samuel opened the door, I’d be ruined — and Hector knew it. But before I could respond, Hector turned the handle. “Wait, Hector—” I started, but the door cracked open. My mind went blank. This was it. I was done for. In one swift move, Hector spun me around and pushed me forward. I stumbled out of the room, nearly tripping over my feet, just managing to catch myself in the hallway. The door clicked shut behind me, and I quickly spun around, my heart racing. Hector was nowhere to be seen. “Jenny?” Samuel asked, stepping closer. “What’s going on? Your lips… they’re so red.” I blinked in confusion, then instinctively raised a hand to my mouth. My lips were burning — probably from the kiss I hadn’t wanted to acknowledge. “I’m fine,” I blurted, trying to change the subject. “Uh, what did you need, Samuel?” He gave me a concerned look, but didn’t press the matter. “It’s not much. I just wanted to apologize for earlier. Hector can be a real jerk, but he doesn’t mean any harm. Don’t let him get to you, okay?” I nodded, feeling guilty, knowing that Hector was the least of my worries right now. Samuel handed me a glass of milk and gave me a soft smile. “If he ever bothers you again, just let me know.” After Samuel left, I opened the door to my room, and there was Hector, standing there, arms crossed, smirking like he had won something. “You…!” I stammered, too angry to form a coherent thought. He laughed softly. “You sure are obedient when it comes to him.” Then, with a mocking smile, he took the glass of milk from my hand and drank half of it in one gulp. “You…” Before I could react, he grabbed my chin, tilting my face upward, and without warning, he poured the remaining milk into my mouth. I choked, sputtering as the cold milk dripped down my chin. Hector, looking smug, wiped my face with the back of his hand as if he’d just done me a favor. Satisfied, he walked out of the room, leaving me standing there in shock. It took me a long time to calm down after that. I had a terrible feeling I’d just made things worse with him. Later that night, I lay in bed, thinking it over. My mom finally came to see me, and I expected her to offer some comfort after everything that had happened. But instead, she told me I needed to be more patient, that I should stop provoking the Gayle brothers, especially Hector. “Look, honey, I don’t have much of a choice here. Your Mr. Gayle hasn’t even agreed to marry me yet…” I bit my lip and nodded. “I understand.”

After a sleepless night, I woke up late the next morning. By the time I got downstairs, everyone was already having breakfast. Samuel wasn’t there, probably out for work, but Mr. Gayle greeted me warmly, while Mommy Jenny gave me a look of disapproval. “Jenny, sit down and have some breakfast,” Mr. Gayle said cheerfully. I hadn’t even started eating when Hector piped up from across the table, “Hey, Sis. I heard your strawberry jam is amazing. I’d love to try it.” Mommy Jenny beamed. “Oh, yes! Jenny is really good at making jam. Why don’t you go whip up a batch for Hector?” I shot Hector a wary glance. The mischievous glint in his eyes told me he was up to no good. But I was stuck. Reluctantly, I nodded and headed to the kitchen. It wasn’t difficult to make, but it took time, and at least it gave me a break from sitting at the table with them. I was halfway through the process when Hector strolled into the kitchen. He claimed he was there to “help,” but I knew better. He just wanted to bother me. Pulling out a container of blueberries from the fridge, he smirked. “I heard you like these. I bought them just for you.” Every time he called me sis, it felt like a trap. He picked out a blueberry and held it up to my lips. “Go on, taste it.” I instinctively took a step back, wary of his intentions. Hector leaned in, his voice dropping lower. “What’s wrong? You don’t trust me?” Then, in one swift motion, he pressed himself up behind me, trapping me against the counter. “You…” I started, but he grabbed my hand, pulling me closer. “Show me how you do it, Sis. Maybe I’ll cook for my dad someday.” He was too close. Way too close. The kitchen was open, and the dining table was just across from us. My mom must have heard the commotion because she chuckled from the other room. “Jenny, why don’t you show Hector how it’s done? It’s good to see siblings getting along so well!” I nodded quickly, scooting forward to put some space between us, not wanting to make a scene. I tried to tell him to step aside. “You can stand over there and watch.” “I like it better from behind,” he whispered, stepping even closer until I was practically leaning over the counter. My whole body tensed. This was getting way too out of hand. Suddenly, Hector’s arm slipped around my waist, pulling me flush against him. “Careful, Sis. You don’t want to get hurt, do you?” he said in a low voice, his breath brushing against my ear. I jumped, startled, and the spoon I was using to stir the jam fell into the pot with a clatter. “Hector, you—” I began, trying to push him away, but his hands were already sliding lower, resting on my waist. He didn’t seem to care that we were in plain view of the dining room, where my mom and Mr. Gayle were still having breakfast. “Sis, you better hurry. If the jam burns, it’ll be ruined,” Hector teased, his voice low, as if this was all some kind of joke to him. My hands shook as I grabbed the spoon again, trying to focus on stirring the pot. But with Hector standing so close, practically glued to me, it was impossible to think straight. My free hand reached out to the counter, trying to find something to ground me as I felt Hector’s other hand wander dangerously close to the edge of my apron. “Hector, stop,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “This isn’t funny.” But he only chuckled softly. “You’re right. It’s not funny at all. It’s just fun.” I grabbed his wrist, trying to stop him from moving any closer, but Hector only smirked, easily slipping his fingers from my grasp. “Relax, Sis. You’re doing great,” he said, completely ignoring my protests. My pulse quickened. I could feel the heat from the jam, the heat from his body pressing into mine. I was trapped between the stove and Hector, unable to move. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see my mom and Mr. Gayle still chatting, oblivious to what was happening in the kitchen. “Hector, please,” I pleaded softly, hoping no one would notice the panic in my voice. But Hector only smiled, grabbing a blueberry from the nearby bowl and holding it up to my mouth again. “Here, eat this.” Before I could say anything, he pushed the berry between my lips. As soon as I bit down, the juice dribbled down my chin, and Hector’s grin widened. “See? Isn’t it sweet?” I swallowed hard, the flavor of the blueberry barely registering over the pounding in my chest. He lowered his voice, so quiet only I could hear. “You’re good at biting, aren’t you?” A shiver ran down my spine, and I froze, unable to process what was happening. Just then, I heard my mom call from the dining room. “Jenny, are you cold? Why are you shivering like that?

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The day I got a job offer, Cindy, my cousin’s wife, announced she was pregnant. Just as the whole family was celebrating, Cindy suddenly said: “Now that Sierra has found a job, and I’m pregnant, it’s going to be inconvenient to live together once the baby arrives. Maybe Sierra should move out?” The room fell silent. Seeing that no one agreed, Cindy backed down a little: “If you insist on staying, fine, but you’ll need to pay $10,000 a month for living expenses!” But the house we’re living in now is mine, and the money we use comes from me. Who should really be paying whom? 0 The day I received my offer letter, Uncle Mark made a huge feast, bringing out his best wine. Even Jason, my cousin, who was usually too busy with work, rushed home before dinner. After a few rounds of drinks, Cindy, who had been quietly eating, suddenly spoke. “I’m pregnant.” The room went silent for a few seconds before it burst into laughter and excitement. Jason’s face turned red with joy as he stared at Cindy’s belly. “Really? Cindy, why didn’t you tell me?” Cindy smiled shyly. “I wanted to surprise you.” No one was happier than Uncle Mark and Aunt Linda. Jason and Cindy had been married for three years without having any children. Finally, they had something to brag about to the relatives. I was genuinely happy for Cindy and thought to myself, I’ll definitely give my future niece or nephew a big gift. As the joyful atmosphere grew, Cindy suddenly put down her chopsticks. “There’s one more thing I want to mention,” she said. Aunt Linda, her eyes still full of joy, asked, “What is it?” “I think Sierra should move out,” Cindy said with a cold expression. “She’s already found a job, and now that I’m pregnant, it’s going to be inconvenient after the baby is born.” The room instantly became silent, and Uncle Mark and Aunt Linda’s faces grew awkward. Cindy, though usually quiet, had never spoken to me with such a cold tone. I had always thought she was nice, so I responded kindly, “There shouldn’t be any inconvenience. I’m not a guy, and when the baby arrives, I can even help take care of it.” “When the baby comes, there won’t be enough room for everyone.” “How could that be?” I said, trying to be considerate. “We can clean up the attic floor and make room for your little family. There will be more than enough space.” This estate house was large, with several rooms on each floor. We had been living comfortably on the second floor for years. Cindy shot me an inexplicable glare. Aunt Linda chimed in to reassure her, “Cindy, don’t worry, we’ll make sure neither you nor the baby is uncomfortable.” Cindy wasn’t finished. “When I have the baby, I’ll be recovering and won’t be able to move around or dress properly. It’s just not right to have an outsider in the house.” Suddenly, her expression softened again. “Sierra, I’m not trying to force you out, but you’ve been living here for so many years. Isn’t it time you moved on?” Seeing my face darken, Cindy added, “Your parents passed away early. When you were in college and grad school, my in-laws covered all your living expenses. “Nowadays, young women are all about independence. It’s time you learned some self-respect and started living on your own.” I looked around at Uncle Mark and Aunt Linda. Uncle Mark, who had been silent for a long time, finally slammed his hand on the table, yelling at Cindy: “That’s enough! You’re getting out of line. Jason, take your wife back to your room!” Jason quickly stepped in to defend her. “Dad, Cindy’s pregnant! Why are you yelling at her? Besides, she’s not wrong.” Uncle Mark lost it. He slammed his glass down and shouted at Jason, “Then you can get out too!” 0

Cindy wasn’t wrong. My parents had passed away when I was young. My dad, Steve, was a company owner, and my mom, Mary, was an architect. Seven years ago, they were in a car accident and both became comatose. That year, I was about to take my college entrance exams, juggling between school and the hospital. It quickly became too much, and I started thinking about hiring a nurse. When Uncle Mark found out, he came to me and said, “Sierra, you don’t need to hire a nurse. Aunt Linda and I can take care of them.” I wasn’t sure about it. Uncle Mark had always been kind to me, but taking care of one person in a coma was already hard, let alone two. “It’s no trouble,” he said, tears welling in his eyes. “They’re my sister and brother-in-law, after all. No one will care for them better than family.” Plus, Mrs. Hudson, who shared a hospital room with my parents, told me some nurses don’t take care of patients properly. Bedsores, neglect — it wasn’t uncommon. After thinking it over, I agreed and paid Uncle Mark and Aunt Linda triple the normal rate to take care of my parents. They did a great job. Every time I visited, there was no smell or mess on them. They looked after my parents for over a year before both passed away. I went to college in another city. Some people suggested I sell the estate house. But I couldn’t. This house had been my parents’ marital home, every tree and room designed by my mother. I wanted someone to take care of the house while I was away. When Uncle Mark heard this, he volunteered. And so, they moved in — and stayed for years. When I started grad school, Uncle Mark and Aunt Linda urged me to move back home, saying they could help look after me. After today’s confrontation with Cindy, I finally understood why she had been distant with me all along. After Jason and Cindy left, I asked Uncle Mark, “Does Cindy not know about the house?” Aunt Linda smiled nervously. “That’s my fault. I told Cindy and her family that the house was ours.” “You know Jason’s family insisted they wouldn’t marry him off unless he had a house. But you know we don’t have money. So, we had to say the house was ours.” I could understand that. Uncle Mark had never been responsible. My parents had arranged several jobs for him, but he never stuck with any of them, always relying on my family’s support to start his own. But in recent years, Uncle Mark and Aunt Linda had been good to me. I gently said: “You can only hide the truth for so long. It’s better to explain this to Cindy sooner rather than later. If she really needs a house, I have another one I could let them live in.” Uncle Mark replied, “Sierra, you’ve done more than enough for us. Don’t worry. I would never take advantage of you.” Hearing that, tears welled up in my eyes. “Uncle Mark, we’re family. Don’t say that.” Without Uncle Mark, I would have had no home. 0

With Uncle Mark’s assurance, I didn’t think much more about the matter. For the next few days, I saw Cindy around the house. She was either giving me cold looks or making passive-aggressive comments while watching TV. “Some people really have no shame, living in someone else’s house like it’s their own. You can’t even kick them out,” she would say, clearly directed at me. “Certain people think they’re some kind of pampered princess, like everyone adores them. But honestly, people can’t stand her.” I kept quiet, hoping Uncle Mark and Aunt Linda would handle it. I had just started my new job and was swamped with work. I often stayed late at the office, only returning home long after everyone had gone to bed. One night, I came home earlier than usual, but it was already dark. The house was silent as everyone had gone to sleep. I quietly made my way upstairs, wanting nothing more than to collapse on my bed. But the moment I lay down, I heard a sharp scream: “Ouch!” I jumped up, and the room lights came on. There, lying in my bed, was Cindy, dressed in her nightgown, staring at me in shock. Uncle Mark and Aunt Linda rushed in. “What happened?” Uncle Mark asked. I tried to stay calm. “Cindy, why are you in my bed?” Cindy’s face turned cold. “This is my house. I can sleep wherever I want.” I frowned, confused and irritated. Aunt Linda pulled me out of the room, trying to smooth things over. “Sierra, I forgot to tell you. Cindy moved into your room.” “When?” “This afternoon. She said she wanted to enjoy the sunlight through the large window.” My room, which my mother had designed especially for me, had a huge floor-to-ceiling window. When the sun rose, the room would be filled with light. In the winter, it was the warmest and coziest spot in the house. I was upset. They had moved her into my room without even asking me. Aunt Linda noticed my displeasure and softened her tone even further. “Sierra, I’m sorry. We didn’t ask for your permission, but Cindy’s pregnant, and her morning sickness is really bad. She said the sunlight makes her feel better.” I had friends who were pregnant. I knew pregnancy could make women act strangely because of hormonal changes. Uncle Mark came out looking frustrated. “What is going on here? Everyone gets pregnant, but no one behaves like this. She can’t just take over your room! Cindy needs to move out of there.” I quickly intervened. “It’s fine, Uncle Mark.” Uncle Mark had always been protective of me, no matter what happened. I didn’t want to cause tension between him and Aunt Linda, so I said: “Really, it’s okay. I’ll just sleep in another room. Cindy’s pregnant, and she needs the space more.” Uncle Mark hesitated, looking conflicted. “But this is unfair to you.” I smiled. “We’re family. It’s not a big deal. Besides, where did you move my things?” Aunt Linda replied, “We put everything in the room on the far west side.” The west room was the smallest in the house. It didn’t get much sunlight and had just one small window. It was originally meant for the housekeeper. Moving from the best room to the worst one didn’t sit well with me, but seeing Uncle Mark’s troubled expression made me let it go. 0

The day I signed my first big contract at work, I stopped by the house in the afternoon to grab some documents. I thought about asking Aunt Linda if she’d like to celebrate with me over dinner. As I approached their bedroom door, I overheard Aunt Linda speaking to Uncle Mark. “What are we going to do? Cindy says if we don’t get Sierra out of the house soon, she’ll never let us see our grandson.” “We just need to wait a little longer,” Uncle Mark replied. “Wait for what? Cindy hasn’t even let Jason sleep in the bed these last few days!” Aunt Linda was panicking. “And what about the medicine? We’ve been giving it to Sierra for over three years, and she’s still perfectly healthy. When is she going to die?” The hairs on my neck stood up. What medicine? Aunt Linda wanted me dead. It suddenly made sense. Since moving back home, my health had deteriorated. I used to be so resilient, but now a simple breeze left me feeling feverish. I’d been suffering from nosebleeds and losing hair for no apparent reason. “How can you not see it working?” Uncle Mark revealed another horrifying secret. “How do you think her parents died? We drugged them to death.” A chill ran down my spine. No wonder my parents’ conditions had suddenly worsened when they were previously stable. Aunt Linda sighed. “Should we increase the dosage?” Uncle Mark thought for a moment before nodding. “That might work. Her parents lasted a year before they died. It’s been three years for Sierra, so no one will suspect anything if she goes now.” “We should’ve just had someone run her over years ago. Instead, we’ve dragged this out, and now she’s almost spent all her parents’ inheritance.” “What are you worried about? It’s all going to be ours eventually.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My mind went blank. Uncle Mark’s kindness had all been an act. They’d been poisoning me this entire time. And my parents’ deaths—were they truly accidents? I stumbled downstairs in a daze, passing through the living room, where Cindy was watching TV. “Sierra,” she called out in an unusually friendly tone. “Come over here for a moment.” I was still in shock, but I managed to respond, “Do you need something, Cindy?” “I’ve been thinking,” she said, her voice sickly sweet. “It’s not right to kick you out now that you’ve just started working.” What’s going on? Before I could figure out her intentions, she continued, “We’re not really family, after all. Jason is already supporting the entire household. Since you’ve found a job, you should help out. I think it’s only fair for you to start paying $10,000 a month for living expenses. You’d have to pay even more if you were renting somewhere else.” So, that’s her game. I smiled coldly. “That’s perfectly fair, Cindy. But I guess you didn’t know this estate is actually mine.” 0

Cindy froze, staring at me in disbelief. “What are you talking about? That’s impossible!” “It’s true,” I replied. “Not just the house, but all the expenses around here—food, utilities, everything—have been paid by me.” Before I moved back in, Uncle Mark had been taking care of the estate and would request maintenance money every month. It was always something: the lawn mower had broken, or the walls needed repainting. As a student, I didn’t know much about these things, so I gave him whatever he asked for. Since I returned, I’d taken on all the household expenses. Thinking back, I realized I needed to check the finances more closely. “You’re lying!” Cindy’s voice was shrill as Uncle Mark and Aunt Linda entered the room, looking surprised to see me. Aunt Linda was the first to speak. “Sierra, why are you home so early today?” Before I could answer, Cindy pointed at me and said, “Mom, she’s claiming this house belongs to her. Is that true?” Both Uncle Mark and Aunt Linda’s faces darkened. Aunt Linda quickly tried to cover it up. “No, no, Cindy, she’s just joking.” She shot me a warning glance, but I ignored her. Instead, I pulled the house deed from my bag and tossed it onto the coffee table.

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My rich, bankrupt boyfriend disappeared for three months, and I went crazy searching the entire city for him. I even took up a job as a delivery driver, just to roam the streets hoping to catch a glimpse of him. One day, while running an errand to deliver a document, I saw him by chance. He was dressed in tailored designer wear, calmly bidding on an antique. Thirty million dollars. The woman next to him smiled sweetly, “As expected, Jack Stevens is always so generous.” He pinched her cheek affectionately. Someone nearby chimed in, “Jack’s also got a soft heart. Not long ago, he finally cut ties with that small-town girl.” I shifted my gaze, and then… he saw me. And everything descended into chaos. “Twenty million.” “Twenty-three million.” The bidding war was intense, voices rising one after another. I stood at the door, able to see everything clearly inside. Soon, a young man in a suit rushed over, beads of sweat on his forehead. “Good, I made it just in time.” Wearing my delivery uniform, I handed over the document with a smile. “If you need something delivered, you can count on me for punctuality and speed.” I had marked this delivery as urgent, hoping to leave a good impression. The young man glanced at me. “Alright, come in for a drink of water, but remember, don’t disturb the big shots in there.” He led me carefully through a corridor beside the hall. As we passed by, I noticed a European-style window on the wall. It wasn’t fully closed, and I caught a glimpse inside. A hand was raised, signaling something. It was holding a red string. The light hit it just right, creating a stark contrast. I flinched, instinctively hiding behind the wall. “Hey, what’s going on in there?” I asked with a forced smile, trying my best to look naive. He raised an eyebrow. “Rich people’s games.” Just as he said that, the auctioneer’s hammer came down. “Thirty million! Congratulations, Mr. Stevens.” The young man sighed, “This Jack Stevens, don’t be fooled by his youth—he’s a big deal.” “All that for an heirloom necklace, and he just raised the price to thirty million like it was nothing.” I pretended not to hear, but my heart clenched tightly. Jack Stevens? Wasn’t he… bankrupt?

Since Jack disappeared in the middle of the night, I’d been searching for him for three whole months. I quit my other jobs, focusing solely on being a delivery driver. Every time I delivered an order, I’d sneak a look around. I even scoured the local news every day, terrified I might see him in a headline. Inside, the auction was still lively. The lights all focused on that necklace, the diamonds reflecting a dazzling array of colors. They burned my eyes. I didn’t go in to confront him. Instead, I stole another glance through the window. He was dressed in tailored luxury wear, slightly turned to the side, patiently speaking with the woman next to him. She was nothing like me, who was always grimy and exhausted. The woman had long, wavy seaweed-green hair, her makeup flawless. Even without the lights, she was radiant. The man beside them, I knew—it was Victor Lewis, his childhood friend. They were chatting happily, as if the thirty million was just a number. “Still the same guy, big spender like back in the day. He sure doesn’t look like the man who hung around that broke girl.” Jack playfully pushed Victor’s forehead. “Don’t remind me. I almost forgot what it felt like to spend money.” The woman beside him laughed. “Thirty million, and Jack still thinks it’s not enough?” She leaned closer, and even from afar, I could catch a whiff of her perfume. “How about buying me a pair of earrings next?” Her eyes sparkled with a sultry charm. “You completed the task I gave you, after all. I wouldn’t leave you empty-handed.” Victor laughed exaggeratedly. “Man, if that broke girl knew this was all a game for your amusement, she’d probably be fuming.” The woman’s expression remained indifferent. “Cinderella must face reality eventually.” Jack pinched her cheek with a doting smile. “Spoiled since childhood.” She pouted. “Fine, go wash off that woman’s scent, or tonight won’t be so pleasant for you.” I saw a flicker of desire in Jack’s eyes. I’d seen that look so many times before. “Is that so?” They exchanged a smile, the possessiveness in his gaze completely unguarded. Victor chuckled. “Cindy, you were the one who told him to date that poor girl, but now you’re the one who can’t stand her. Haven’t changed a bit, have you?” “That was then,” she glanced toward the window, as if she saw me. I stepped back instinctively. I shouldn’t have kept watching, but I couldn’t help it. I saw her mouth the words: “But now, he’s mine.”

Jack Stevens had always been sharp. In the next second, our eyes met. Panic rose in me, and I quickly turned to leave. I heard a chair scrape against the floor inside, followed by hurried footsteps. Just as I was about to walk away, Jack grabbed my arm. “Mr. Stevens,” I muttered, looking down. My eyes fell on the red string around his wrist. It looked completely out of place. “Nina, what are you doing here?” I sniffed. “Can’t you see for yourself, Mr. Stevens?” Victor and Cindy had followed us outside. “No, I must be blind.” Their stares made me feel humiliated. The slogan on my blue delivery uniform was clear for all to see. Jack furrowed his brows, while Cindy stomped her foot. “Jack, don’t tell me you actually like her?” Like she was scalded, Jack instantly let go of my hand. Then, he pulled a card from his pocket. “It’s a supplementary card, linked to mine. Take it.” I didn’t take it, just stared coldly at the card. “Mr. Stevens, what’s this? Compensation?” I scoffed, “The shabby things in my studio flat aren’t worth enough for you to use that card.” Jack grew more irritated. “Then what do you want?” What do I want? How could he have the nerve to ask? I nearly doubled over with laughter, coldly addressing him and the two people standing behind him. “I told you, Jack Stevens, I hate being lied to.” Cindy curled her lips. “What a hassle.” Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was just the right volume for me to hear. She was speaking to me. “Cindy, don’t say things like that,” Jack snapped, like he was scolding a spoiled child.

I’ve heard words like that before. When I was younger and we had guests over, my cousin Brian would always dig through my room, searching for “treasures.” The drawings I had spent days working on, and the paints my parents had saved up to buy me, would be ruined in seconds—smeared all over. Even my face would end up painted with streaks of color. Then Granny Janine would come in, smiling while trying to clean up the mess. “Oh, my sweet boy, you’re such a rascal,” she would say, holding him tight. “Next time, don’t do that, okay?” She pretended to be stern, but it never worked. Just like now. Jack had stopped Cindy from saying anything worse, but his indulgence only made her more brazen. Cindy made a silly face at him and reluctantly turned away, pouting. Victor stepped in to lighten the mood. “Alright, alright, it’s getting late. Jack, let’s not keep her from working.” I took off my uniform jacket and threw it at them, hard. “Since he’s alive, there’s no need for me to keep doing this job.” Jack stiffened, his expression growing colder by the second. I imagine no one had ever treated him like this before. The streetlights flickered on as I rode my bike home. Wearing my helmet, my vision blurred slightly. I suddenly remembered the first time I met Jack Stevens. He was standing there, dressed in a crisp white shirt, with the golden sunlight pouring over him. His brown eyes seemed to be sprinkled with specks of gold. “Freshman?” He was one of the senior students welcoming us. “Interested in joining the student council?” And that’s how I ended up in the same department as him. It was only natural that I got his contact information. The first time I messaged him, my hands wouldn’t stop trembling. What was I supposed to say? I didn’t know. From the moment I woke up that day, I rehearsed over and over again, until the lights went out that night. All I managed to type were three dry words. “Hi, senior.” It seemed like he had his phone in hand, because he replied quickly. “Still awake?” But now, when I open our chat window, it’s just me—talking to myself. Line after line of green bubbles mocking me. How could someone like that ever fall for me? Turns out, from the very beginning, he had a plan.

Jack and I got together on the day he graduated. He had drunk a lot that night. He was stumbling as he walked out. I gathered my courage and chased after him. He couldn’t seem to focus on anything, and before I knew it, he had grabbed my wrist and pressed me against the wall. “Do you want to date?” His eyes were hazy, his gaze seductive, a lazy charm radiating from him. And for some reason, I agreed. Who would have thought that Jack wouldn’t regret it? So, I worked even harder. Even though my earnings were meager, at least I could have some pride. But Jack was so extravagant. One of his shirts cost me a year’s salary. Yet, he would only pat my head and say, “Nina, you’re amazing.” Just that one sentence would keep me going for a long time. But that didn’t last long. His family went bankrupt. His parents ran away to escape their debts. When I found out, I rushed to find him. He was sitting at the entrance of their mansion, surrounded by nothing. He looked up at me, the streetlight casting a long shadow behind him. He looked so cold, so alone. “Leave. I have nothing left to give you.” I cried and laughed at the same time. For the first time, I sat down beside him, looping my arm through his. “It’s okay. From now on, I’ll take care of you.” He shifted slightly, and then came the flood of kisses. Our breaths mingled. It was one of the few intimate moments we ever shared.

Back in my tiny studio flat, traces of Jack were still everywhere. The ceramic bowls we made together, the coasters we wove, and our matching slippers. I packed everything away one by one. And that’s when I realized—we didn’t even have a single photo together. A thought formed in my mind. Maybe Jack had known all along that this was just a game. That’s why he didn’t want to leave any proof of our relationship. I opened his Instagram profile. There wasn’t a single post about me. It was as if we had never officially been together. Our relationship had begun out of nowhere, and now it was ending just as mysteriously. I clipped my bangs behind my ears and washed my face. Cold water soaked my cheeks, and the scar on my forehead stood out clearly. I closed my eyes and was transported back to the car accident. At the time, Jack had gone out to buy me a cake. A car came speeding by, and I pushed him out of the way with all my strength. I was the one who got hit, and though the physical wounds had healed over time, the scar on my forehead never fully went away. How foolish. For the first time, I used concealer. It was as if I were trying to fill the hole left in my heart. Or maybe, I was just deceiving myself. My hand trembled violently as I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I almost couldn’t hold onto the makeup brush. A car horn sounded outside, and I jumped. The brush slipped from my hand into the sink, soaked with water. Nina, you’re such a failure. All the disappointment and anxiety I had bottled up finally erupted. I wasn’t even sure why I was crying. Was it because my hands could barely hold a pen? Or was it because of this secret relationship that no one knew about? I curled up, slowly sliding down to the floor, my back against the wall. I don’t know how long I stayed there. The silhouette of the window merged with the darkness outside. Finally, I moved my dry lips. Jack Stevens, I don’t want you anymore. From today on, this is goodbye.

Truth be told, Jack Stevens didn’t have many things left here. It took just two hours to clear everything out. I called the junk man, Mr. Davinson, and handed over everything in one go. The apartment felt clean all of a sudden. No more pairs of things—no more signs of us. It was refreshing. I tidied up a bit, ready to start looking for a new job the next day. Then a message came in. It was a photo. Jack was lying in Cindy’s arms, his eyes half-closed. Behind them was the luxurious setting of a private lounge, the kind dripping with decadence. The dim lighting cast a seductive glow over Jack’s face. A side of him I had never seen before. Cindy didn’t add any words to the message. But it was enough. The message was clear: Jack Stevens was hers. After the emotional rollercoaster earlier, I felt… nothing. I deleted the photo, my expression blank as I started making myself a bowl of noodles. I’d cried over him once. That was enough. Crying over a man? Now that would be foolish. The noodles were just about ready when my phone rang. A number I didn’t recognize. “Hey, Nina—no, wait, poor little Nina,” came Victor’s booming voice from the other end. “Jack’s drunk and insists you come pick him up. Better hurry.” I took a bite of my noodles. “Jack Stevens? I don’t know him.” “What are you talking about? If you don’t come soon, the place will close, and Jack will be sleeping on the street.” “Then let him sleep there,” I said, finishing the noodles in just a few more bites. “It’d be better if he just died.” Victor was still talking, but I hung up before he could waste any more of my time. What a waste of a phone call. I turned my phone off and enjoyed one of the best night’s sleeps I’d had in a while. When I woke up the next morning, sunlight poured through the window, filling the room. Turns out, when I’m not worrying about Jack Stevens, I can sleep perfectly fine. This was the first day without him, and even the bed felt bigger than it used to. I was just about to get out of bed when I saw a head pop out from the bathroom.

“Nina, where’s all my stuff?” I froze on the spot. My body trembled involuntarily. “What are you doing here?” Jack was drying his face with a towel. “I’ve got a key. Why wouldn’t I come home?” His casual tone and the way he acted like nothing had happened yesterday shocked me. Barefoot, he walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, looking a bit uncomfortable. “I drank too much last night. Give me a massage, would you?” I could hardly believe his audacity. He had a new woman now, yet he still thought he could order me around like before. I backed away, my face cold. “Jack Stevens, what are you trying to do?” Jack hesitated, then resumed his usual soft demeanor. “Nina, what are you talking about? Come on, help me out.” He reached for my hand, but I pulled away immediately. A flash of disappointment crossed his eyes, but he quickly covered it up, trying to act nonchalant. “Oh, I noticed a lot of things missing from the apartment. How about we go shopping later?” He moved closer, flashing me that boyish grin I used to love. “You can help me pick stuff out.” Jack raised his eyebrows, still carrying that youthful charm. It was the look I once adored. But now, looking at him, all I felt was disgust. He hadn’t even bothered to wash off Cindy’s perfume. “Jack, this isn’t your place anymore.” My voice was ice-cold. “Leave the key and get out.” His lips quivered slightly, a hint of panic creeping into his expression. “But Nina, you said… you said this was our home.” His skin must be thicker than I imagined. Suddenly, something clicked in his mind, and he asked, “Is this about Cindy?”

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Before my A-Levels, I was diagnosed with stomach cancer—because I was starving. When I told my mum, she thought I was lying and cut my allowance even more. She said that when she was my age, she only had £60 a month, and here I was, getting £100. I should consider myself lucky. She wanted me to learn the virtue of thrift. Later, she and my dad went on holiday and left me with no money. I ended up starving to death. She held my body, crying uncontrollably. “Mum, why are you crying?” “Now that I’m dead, you won’t have to spend any more money on me. Isn’t that something to be happy about?” After finishing my check-up at St. Thomas’ Hospital, I went home with the late-stage stomach cancer diagnosis in my hand. As soon as I walked in, my mum was on her phone. She glanced at me and said, “Starting next month, your allowance will go from £300 to £100.” I froze, the test result still in my hand, thinking about how to give it to her. She continued, “You’ve got it so good now. When I was your age, I had £60 a month. £100 is more than enough for you.” I bit my lip gently, hesitated, and then said, “Mum… it’s not really enough. Could you give me a bit more? I’m… sick.” I slowly pulled the diagnosis out of my pocket and handed it to her, still hoping that despite everything, she was my mother and would care. But in the next second, she knocked the paper out of my hand. “Since when did you learn to lie like this? When I didn’t lower your allowance, you were fine. The moment I cut it, you suddenly have all these problems?” Her voice was sharp, her eyes filled with anger, as if I was her worst enemy. Timidly, I stepped forward and mumbled, “Mum, I’m not lying…” But she only got angrier, pointing at me and shouting, “Oh, now you’re talking back, are you? You ungrateful little pest!” She grabbed a feather duster from the sofa and hit me with it. At that moment, my dad, who was outside hanging up the laundry, came over, pushing me gently towards my room. He smiled at her and said, “Come on, love, no need to hit her…” “She’s gone rotten! All I wanted was for her to learn the value of money, and now she’s lying about being ill! I just watched a video—some student made millions in their first year at uni, supporting their family. Why should I still have to support her?” “She’s such a burden—always sulking. It would be better if she were dead…” I closed my bedroom door quietly, my heart being sliced to pieces by each word. Maybe it would be better if I were dead… It wasn’t the first time I’d heard her say that. But it hurt every single time. Mum, do you really wish I were dead? When I die, I’m sure you’ll be happy. The doctor said I wouldn’t live more than three months. By then, I’m sure you’ll be relieved. But Chloe doesn’t want to give up…

Since my monthly allowance had been cut to £100, after buying my school supplies, even if I only ate bread and pickles, I still couldn’t make ends meet. With A-Levels coming up, I had very little time. I only had Sunday afternoons off, so I spent that time handing out flyers. The boss, Mr. Cooper, knew about my situation and gave me a slight raise. I worked one day a week, and I earned £100, paid on the spot. One day, after a long day of distributing flyers, I came home, and the first thing my mum did was glare at me. “I’m missing £100 from my purse. Did you take it?” I was confused, and before I could say anything, she stormed over and pulled my bag from me. She rummaged through it and only found some loose change, but she wasn’t satisfied. She started searching my pockets. Finally, she found £100 in my jeans. Her eyes burned into me like a demon from hell. “Who told you to steal from me?” she hissed through clenched teeth. I was terrified. Every time she looked at me like that, I knew there would be punishment. My legs started trembling, and my voice shook as I stammered, “I didn’t… I didn’t…” “That’s the money I earned from my part-time job. I didn’t steal it.” But she didn’t believe me. She slapped me and yelled, “You’ve been lying to me your whole life! Didn’t I raise you better than this?” “Do you think I’m stupid? Do you think you can fool me with these lies? Today, I’ll teach you a lesson and show you who’s in charge!” She pulled the charging cable from the plug, grabbed my hair, and dragged me to the floor. Then, she whipped my leg with the cable. It hurt so much. But my heart was numb. From primary school until now, her “military discipline” had gone from confusing me, breaking my heart, and making me rebel, to leaving me completely numb. She had perfected her methods of “education.” The charging cable was her favourite because it hurt but didn’t leave lasting marks, unlike sticks or coat hangers. She also knew how to pinch me in the most painful spots without leaving a bruise, tie elastic bands around my arm so tightly that my hand would go numb, and wrap a towel around a stick so it would hurt but leave no visible wounds. It’s laughable, isn’t it? All of these were things my own mother tested on her daughter. Her only daughter… Right then, the pain in my stomach flared up again, twisting and turning like something was tearing it apart. I started to wish that I could just die during one of these “lessons.” At least then, the pain would stop.

All the money I earned was taken by my mum. Now, I had less than £10 to my name. To stretch it out, I decided to only eat one piece of bread every three days. But I’d overestimated how long I could last with stomach cancer. By the first morning, I fainted while running during PE. Ms. Thompson carried me to the nurse’s office, and after a quick check, the nurse said I’d collapsed from low blood sugar. A classmate, who had come along with the teacher, explained my situation to her. Ms. Thompson was shocked when she heard about how my mum treated me. It wasn’t unusual for students to faint from exhaustion and stress in school, but given my situation, she felt she had to call my mum. When my mum heard what had happened, she was reluctant to come, but Ms. Thompson insisted. When she arrived, she found the teacher encouraging me to eat the food she’d bought for me. My mum, furious, slapped me in front of everyone. “You liar! You said you’d fainted! Here you are, looking perfectly fine. Why didn’t you just die?” Ms. Thompson, stunned by the sudden slap, froze in shock. After a moment, she spoke up, standing between us. “Why would you say something like that? Can’t you talk without being so cruel?” But my mum continued to rant, accusing me of being deceitful, saying I’d manipulated everyone for money. Then she glanced at Ms. Thompson and sneered, “First she couldn’t trick me, and now she’s got you fooled, hasn’t she? Or are you just trying to seduce her?” The teacher slammed the table in anger. “Madam, I’m Chloe’s form tutor,” she said firmly. By now, the whole canteen had turned to look at us. Embarrassed, my mum’s expression softened, and she mumbled, “Sorry, I didn’t know you were her teacher.” “She’s just such a troublemaker. I’ve only been trying to teach her to save money, and now she’s lying to me, stealing from me, and pretending to faint because she hasn’t eaten…” Ms. Thompson, her face pale with shock, interrupted her mid-sentence. “She’s not lying. Chloe fainted from low blood sugar, and I called you.” She went on, “I’ve heard from her classmates that all Chloe eats at school is bread and pickles. Sometimes, she only has one meal a day because you won’t give her any more money.” My mum, caught off-guard, stammered, “But I do give her money. I give her £100 a month! When I was her age, I got £60, and she gets £40 more than I ever did.”

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After my daughter caused a hit-and-run accident, she knelt in front of me, sobbing. “Mom, I just got accepted into Yale University. I have such a bright future ahead of me. If I go to prison, my life will be over. Please, I’m begging you—save me…” I agreed. Two years in prison, and neither my husband nor my daughter visited me even once. When I was finally released, I learned the bitter truth: it had all been a plot between my husband and daughter. They had transferred all my assets into their names long ago. The daughter who once wept and begged me to take the blame now spat at me, calling me a worthless, ugly ex-convict, and kicked me in the chest. I died on the spot, despite efforts to save me. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Charlotte received her college acceptance letter. “Mom, Dad! My scores are out! I got into Yale University!” Charlotte Carter, my adoptive daughter, exclaimed excitedly. “Well, of course, you did! After all, you’re Jack Carter’s daughter! Yale is one of the top universities. You’ve made your parents so proud. Honey, didn’t your year-end bonus just come through? Give it all to Charlotte and buy her that BMW,” my husband Jack declared proudly. It was a conversation I knew all too well, and I immediately realized—I had been reborn. “Dad, I’m still young. A car would be too flashy. Besides, Mom works so hard to earn that money. I’d feel bad spending it,” Charlotte said sweetly. In my past life, I had always thought she was a kind, dutiful, and considerate girl. But after going to prison, I learned she was nothing more than a snake hiding behind a sweet smile. “But your dad promised you—if you got into Yale, you’d get a BMW,” Jack said, glancing at me expectantly. Jack was a stay-at-home husband, and all our household expenses were covered by me. In my previous life, I had even felt guilty for not giving him a child of his own. “Why are you looking at me? You made the promise, not me,” I said coldly. Both Jack and Charlotte stared at me, wide-eyed. In my past life, they were always perfectly in sync—Charlotte playing the innocent angel, and Jack playing the doting father—all to squeeze money out of me. And I, foolishly, had fallen for it time and time again, thinking Charlotte was a loving daughter and Jack a generous man who treated her like his own. But now, watching them put on the same act, I felt nothing but disgust. “Did you lose your mind today? Charlotte got into Yale! That’s something to celebrate! You can’t even buy her a car? Do you even deserve to be her mother? Or is it that you’ve never truly seen her as your daughter?” Jack lashed out at me. “Dad, don’t say that. $50,000 isn’t a small amount, and Mom’s business needs the cash to keep things running smoothly. It’s fine if we don’t buy the car,” Charlotte said, still playing the part of the understanding daughter. “Fine, then we’ll get her a cheaper one—how about a $30,000 car?” Jack shouted, turning his anger toward me. “Have you been living under a rock? Since when is a $30,000 car considered cheap? If you want to buy her a car so badly, why don’t you use your own money?” I mocked. Jack stared at me, unable to believe I had just said that. Charlotte had the same shocked expression, as though the world had flipped upside down. In my past life, their tricks had always worked on me, and I would have done anything for them. I got swindled time and time again, and still believed they were good people. “Mom, I don’t need a car. Please don’t fight. This is all my fault,” Charlotte whimpered, tears spilling from her eyes. In my previous life, I would have hugged her, wiping away her tears, and promised her anything she wanted. But this time, I knew better—Charlotte was a manipulative viper. Watching her fake tears made my blood boil. SLAP! I slapped her across the face, hard. Father and daughter stood frozen in shock. Charlotte looked at me, terror and confusion in her eyes. “A mosquito bit your face. I swatted it too hard,” I said, feigning concern, as I reached out to touch her reddened cheek.

The next day, I went to my office and immediately changed all my bank account passwords, including the payment ones on my phone. This time around, I wouldn’t let Jack get a hold of my assets. Later, I asked the school for Charlotte’s SAT registration number and looked up her actual scores. I was stunned—she only scored 230. Even with an extra 400 points, she couldn’t have made it into Yale. In my previous life, Charlotte had shown me several of her mock exam scores—always over 650. I had believed her then, but now I realized those score reports must have been forged. That afternoon, I went to a private investigator and hired them to look into Jack and Charlotte. I suspected they were actually father and daughter. Twelve years ago, Jack had taken me to an orphanage, and out of all the children there, he had chosen Charlotte. At the time, I had thought they were simply drawn to each other by fate. But looking back, the way they had conspired against me, there was no other explanation. They had been planning this for twelve years—slowly but surely draining me of everything I had. A week later. I received a text from the bank saying that my supplementary credit card had been charged $30,000. In my haste, I had forgotten to cancel the supplementary card. I had given Jack the card for convenience—so he could buy groceries and cover household expenses. But I didn’t need to guess—I knew the $30,000 had gone toward buying a car. I quickly called the bank and had the card canceled.

That evening, as I arrived home, I saw a brand-new BMW X2 without license plates parked outside. When I stepped inside, Charlotte was there, smiling sweetly as she handed me my slippers. “Welcome home, Mom. You must be tired from work.” Looking at her fake smile, I wanted nothing more than to slap her again, but I had to restrain myself until I had all the facts. “Did your dad buy you the car?” I asked coolly. “Mom, I didn’t want it, but Dad insisted. There wasn’t anything I could do,” she said, putting on her most innocent expression. “I’ve canceled your supplementary card. From now on, I’ll give you $1,000 a month for household expenses. If you need to buy anything big, just let me know and I’ll get it for you.” “What’s that supposed to mean? Our daughter got into Yale, doesn’t she deserve a reward?” Jack stormed over, his face red with anger. I nearly exposed them right then and there. 230 points. That pathetic score wouldn’t get her into Yale in a million years. But I held back. “I’m only thinking of her. She’s still young and just got her driver’s license. What if she gets into an accident? Then what? Am I supposed to bury my own daughter?” I asked, pretending to be concerned. Jack slammed his fist on the table and leaped up. “How dare you curse my daughter?” In that moment, I was absolutely certain—Charlotte was Jack’s biological daughter. “I’m not cursing her. I’m just worried for her safety.” “Hmph. You’re just too cheap to spend money,” Jack sneered. “Mom, did you get upset because Dad used your money to buy me a car?” Charlotte immediately went into victim mode, her eyes welling up with tears. I gently patted her head and said, “How could I be upset about spending money on you? I’m just worried about your driving skills. If something happened to you, how could I go on living?” If they could play their games, so could I. “Mom, I got into Yale, one of the best universities in the country! Any other mother would have thrown a massive party and showered me with gifts, but you haven’t done anything. Do you not love me anymore?” she cried, her acting flawless. Her performance was nothing short of brilliant. I continued patting her head and replied, “Well, these days, the country promotes frugality. Throwing a party would be wasteful. Besides, it’s important to stay humble. Being too flashy will only make others jealous. As for gifts, isn’t that BMW a gift?” “Mom, you don’t love me anymore! You don’t understand! The car isn’t for showing off or making my life easier. It’s because I want to fulfill a dream—I want to take you on a road trip, across the country, to thank you for everything you’ve done for me.” “Charlotte, I appreciate your sentiment, but doesn’t something feel off?” “What’s off?” she asked, looking genuinely confused. “Shouldn’t you be the one earning the money to buy the car and take me on a road trip? It’s like saying you’re going to treat me to a meal, but then I end up paying for it. Doesn’t that seem odd?” She froze, clearly unable to come up with a rebuttal. “Emma Richardson, how can you call yourself a mother? How could you crush your daughter’s loving intentions like this?” Jack said, sending Charlotte a quick wink. “Mom, you’re being so cruel. You don’t love me anymore…” Charlotte wailed as she stormed out of the house. “Charlotte, wait!” Jack followed after her. Suddenly, I remembered the notice at the entrance of our building: Last night, the surveillance cameras were damaged. Repairs are underway. Please secure your belongings and lock your doors. Were they trying to set me up? With the cameras down and no witnesses, they could easily frame me for something. The thought sent a chill down my spine. I immediately called my assistant, Claire, who lived just a mile away. Then I phoned five of my employees and told them there was an emergency meeting at my place and that they should come as quickly as possible. I’d cover their cab fare. By 9 p.m., I heard the door open and stepped out of the study. “Have you been here the whole time?” Jack asked. “Yes.” “I don’t believe you. You didn’t go out looking for Charlotte?” “She’s not a child anymore. She can take care of herself.” “What kind of mother are you? How can you be so heartless?” “We can’t protect her forever. She has to walk her own path,” I said coolly. After another ten minutes of bickering, Charlotte burst back into the house, looking frantic. She immediately dropped to her knees in front of me. “Mom, I was in a hit-and-run accident! Please, you have to take the blame for me. Save me! I just got into Yale. My life is just beginning—I can’t go to prison!” Hearing those familiar words made my blood boil. I wanted to strangle her on the spot. In my previous life, I had been such a fool to take the blame for her. “Charlotte, don’t be afraid. Don’t worry,” I said, faking concern as I pulled her into my arms, comforting her. “Mom, will you help me?” she asked, her voice trembling, her eyes wide with fear. “Of course I’ll help you. You’re my precious daughter.” “I knew it! I knew you wouldn’t abandon me! I swear, when you get out of prison, I’ll make it up to you. I’ll be the best daughter.” “Prison? What prison?” I pushed her away, feigning surprise. “Mom, didn’t you say you’d help me? Didn’t you say you’d take the blame?” she asked, her voice full of confusion. “When I said I’d help, I meant I’d hire you the best lawyer. We’ll fight for leniency,” I said, smiling sweetly. Charlotte’s jaw dropped. “Emma, this is all your fault! If you hadn’t upset Charlotte, she wouldn’t have run off, and none of this would have happened. You should take responsibility and go to prison for her,” Jack said, his voice full of righteous indignation. “And why don’t you take the blame for your daughter, Jack? Listen, Charlotte, your father is just a stay-at-home dad. A few years in prison won’t be a big deal for him. But your mom? I run a company. I’m the one making the money. If I go to prison, who’s going to pay for your education?” Jack’s face turned beet red, and he had nothing to say. “Mom, Dad can’t take the blame for me. After I hit that woman, I got out of the car to check on her, but she grabbed my ankle. I screamed—she didn’t see me, but she definitely heard my voice.” I sighed and placed both hands on her shoulders. “Charlotte, you need to stop running from this. Take responsibility for what you did. Go turn yourself in. You’re still young, a few years in prison won’t ruin your life. And don’t worry, you’ll always have me. When you get out, you can work at my company.” Her mouth hung open in shock. How could the woman who once loved her more than anything suddenly seem so… indifferent?

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At eight months pregnant, I went into early labor. I died on the operating table. I was rushed into the maternity ward with another pregnant woman. “The water has broken for this patient; we need to proceed with surgery immediately. Contact the family to confirm signatures.” “My husband is away on a business trip. I can sign for myself!” I spoke through the pain, just as a man rushed over to the other woman’s side. “Save her first! She has a weaker constitution!” I recognized him immediately. Nathan Chase, my husband. The same husband who was supposed to be on a business trip out of town. How could he tell them to save someone else first? Nathan glanced at me with a cold calmness. “She’s an athlete, she’ll be fine. I’m her husband. I can sign the liability waiver.” He spoke firmly to the medical staff. “I’m Dr. Nathan Chase from Downtown General Hospital’s OB-GYN department. Trust my professional judgment.” Later, I bled out on the operating table. Nathan knelt at my grave, sobbing, “Emily, I was wrong. Please, come back.”

Nathan Chase was a renowned OB-GYN at Downtown General Hospital. But he was always busy. Busy traveling across the country for work, too busy to come back when his wife was knocked into premature labor. The sudden labor only worsened the hospital’s already tight resources. After the violent impact of my fall, by the time I was taken to the hospital, blood and amniotic fluid had already soaked through my entire body. The doctor told me to contact my family, so with the last bit of consciousness I had, I called him. Once. Twice. No answer. I tried my mother-in-law. Still no response. “My husband is out of town for work. I can sign for myself,” I groaned, barely able to bear the pain, as I informed the doctor of my intentions. Coincidentally, another pregnant woman was brought into the emergency room after a car accident. “Doctor, save her first! She’s bleeding from the head; she might have a risk of intracranial bleeding!” I looked up, and there he was. Nathan Chase, my husband, the man who was supposed to be away. I have RH-negative blood, the rare “panda blood,” as they call it. And here I was, lying on the ground, covered in blood, and my husband, the one man I thought I could rely on, chose to ignore me. Nathan held onto Tina Lewis’ hand tightly, his concern for her all too obvious. “Don’t worry,” he said softly. “I’ll personally handle your surgery. You and the baby will be fine.” “I guarantee you’ll walk out of surgery perfectly healthy.” The tenderness in his voice, the way he looked at Tina, cut through me like a knife. Without a hospital bed, I lay there in the hallway, watching him shower affection on his former classmate, his “little sister” from medical school. Patients passed by with their families. Everyone had someone to lean on in this terrifying moment. Everyone but me. As my own husband walked right by me toward another woman. All I got was a cold remark: “You’re just having a premature birth. You’ll be fine.” Did he not know I had RH-negative blood? As I waited for my surgery to be scheduled, I felt my eyes grow heavy. The next time I woke up, I was surrounded by doctors and nurses. “The patient has suffered an amniotic fluid embolism, and she’s hemorrhaging! Contact the blood bank immediately!” “Where’s Dr. Chase? He’s the only one in the city experienced enough to handle this!” The nurses wheeled my bed frantically down the hallway, assuring me everything would be alright. They told me my husband, Dr. Chase, was the top OB-GYN in the city. He had successfully handled amniotic fluid embolisms three times before. They even contacted the media to put out a call for blood donations. They didn’t want me to worry. I was pushed into the operating room, the cold mechanical sounds of various machines filling the air as they reported on my vitals. “Not good! Her oxygen levels are dropping too fast. She’s fading! Where is Dr. Chase?” I could feel the anxiety of the attending physician as she clutched my hand, her fingers icy. The nurse was just as worried but helpless. “Dr. Chase finished surgery on another patient and then… left. Apparently, that woman wanted some bone broth, and he said he’d make it himself.” “Call him!” “He’s not answering…” “The baby’s not breathing either, and the patient is critical. We’re losing her!”

The conversation between the doctors made my heart sink, little by little. At the moment when my baby and I needed him most, my husband wasn’t there. He was busy making soup for another woman. The attending physician gripped my hand firmly. “You trusted me, so I won’t give up on you. You have to hold on!” Alright… I blinked slowly. Someone in this world was still fighting for me, still hoping I’d make it through. So I had to keep trying. The intern was still desperately trying to reach Nathan Chase. My attending physician and the hospital’s top specialists were working side by side, leaving no room for error. The media broadcasted the emergency, and soon, many generous donors with RH-negative blood came to the hospital to give. Bag after bag of blood plasma was pumped into my body, and the doctors wiped the sweat from their brows. “The baby’s out!” At last, the sound of a baby’s cry filled the room. But I felt my strength draining away, and my vision blurred. The attending physician shouted at me, “Don’t sleep!” “Bring the baby over so the mother can see!” I forced my eyes open and smiled at the small, slightly blue baby. She was so beautiful, soft and sweet, just like Nathan must have looked when he was born. The intern suddenly raised his phone in excitement. “Dr. Chase just called! We got through!” The crisis wasn’t over yet, but my attending physician looked like she’d grabbed a lifeline. “Did you hear that? Your husband’s on the phone. Hang in there!” They put the call on speaker, and Nathan’s frantic, angry voice filled the operating room. “Emily, where’s your hospital bag? You’re not giving birth yet anyway, right? Let Tina use it.” “Oh, and the maternity nurse you hired, can Tina use her first? She had an early delivery and doesn’t have time to find a reliable one.” Boom. The last bit of hope I had collapsed. I felt the final sliver of strength leave my body. The attending physician frowned and had the intern hold the phone to her. “Dr. Chase, your wife has had a severe amniotic fluid embolism. She’s in critical condition. Your expertise is needed urgently to save her.” The line went dead. “He hung up! Is he out of his mind? His own wife is dying, and he’s worried about someone else’s maternity nurse?” “What kind of ‘renowned doctor’ is this? He’s nothing but a heartless jerk!” Their voices were loud. Even I couldn’t help but laugh. And in that fleeting moment, all hope drowned beneath the waves of despair, swallowing my last breath of consciousness. “Critical!” “The patient’s oxygen levels are plummeting. Contact the blood bank for more plasma, immediately!” In an instant, my once-stable vitals began to nosedive. Maternal instinct told me not to give up, but I simply couldn’t hold on any longer. Beep— “August 20th, 2024, at 2:21 p.m., patient Emily Perkins, declared dead.”

I… died? I couldn’t believe it. I wanted to reach down and cradle my baby, but my hands passed right through her tiny body. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t hold her. I couldn’t feel her warmth. All I could do was watch as my hands kept slipping through her over and over again. The death of a mother during childbirth is a big deal for any hospital. As they wheeled my body out of the operating room, my attending physician ran into another doctor from the neighboring surgery room. Seeing the white sheet covering my body, Dr. Lee sighed in sympathy. “That’s strange, wasn’t Dr. Chase’s wife just next door, undergoing a routine C-section? We could’ve handled that easily. Why didn’t he come to assist you?” “He’s the authority in these kinds of cases! Could it be that, because his wife was giving birth, he didn’t want to step in and help save lives?” Before Dr. Lee could finish, the intern interrupted, frustrated. “Dr. Lee, the woman under this sheet is Dr. Chase’s wife, Emily Perkins.” Dr. Lee chuckled. “I’ve worked with Nathan for so long. You think I don’t know who his wife is? His wife is Tina Lewis. How could this be Emily?” Still grappling with the loss of the patient, the intern lost her patience, her tone exasperated. “Why would we lie to you? This is Dr. Chase’s wife. It’s on her medical records.” Dr. Lee froze, then slapped his forehead in disbelief. “You’re joking, right? Dr. Chase’s wife… dead?” The only response was the cold, silent body beneath the white sheet. … After I died, Nathan Chase couldn’t be reached by phone. But his mother, Gloria, showed up at the hospital. “The mother didn’t make it… I’m so sorry for your loss,” the nurse informed her quietly. “But she gave birth to a healthy baby girl. Five pounds, three ounces…” Before the nurse could finish, Gloria frowned and walked off to call Nathan. “Your wife gave birth. It’s a useless girl,” she snapped into the phone. “That’s fine. I told you she’d be alright.” “Oh, by the way, Mom, I gave her hospital bag to Tina. I also sent the maternity nurse Emily hired to help Tina. You know, Tina’s all alone and needs someone by her side.” “Fine, fine. I got it,” Gloria huffed. “Mom, can you stay at the hospital and look after her for me?” There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Nathan pressed on, “Mom, I’ll pay you. A thousand dollars a week.” Hearing that, Gloria finally relented. “Your wife doesn’t need anyone looking after her. She’s fine. An athlete’s body can’t be that fragile.” “She heard that you sent her nurse away. Now she’s saying she wants to go abroad to recover after childbirth, something about it being quicker and better. Someone’s already arranged to pick her up.” I couldn’t understand why Gloria would say that. Nathan didn’t give it much thought either. “Whatever. Let her go wherever she wants.” Listening to his dismissive tone, I began to wonder: if he knew I’d died on the operating table, how would he react? Would he feel even a twinge of sadness? From the other end of the line, I heard Tina’s soft voice: “Nathan, do you think Emily’s mad at me?” “I had you come stay with me, and Betty’s here helping look after my son. You know, I’m all alone right now…” “I didn’t mean to bother you. I don’t want to cause any trouble for Emily…” “Who cares about her? Your priority is to recover. Don’t worry about anything else. And anyway, she’s an athlete. She’ll be fine.”

No sooner had those words left his mouth than a blinding light flashed before my eyes. I looked up and saw several of Nathan’s colleagues walking into Tina’s room, holding various gifts. Even someone meeting Nathan for the first time could easily read his emotions. Tina Lewis, his former classmate, was the unattainable goddess of his youth. He never had the courage to confess his feelings for her, but he made sure the world knew he adored her. Had it not been for that school reunion I attended with him, I never would have known just how low Nathan Chase could stoop for her. In front of Tina, he was always humble, almost worshipful. At that reunion, his college roommates teased the recently divorced Tina, saying, “Tina, you’ve had a rough patch, but if you’d accepted Nathan Chase’s proposal back in the day, you’d be the one standing next to the top OB-GYN in Downtown General Hospital right now. There wouldn’t be room for anyone else.” And I, the “someone else,” could only stand quietly, becoming invisible in the crowd. His old friends all seemed to hate me, as though I had come between Nathan and Tina. If it weren’t for me, their beloved “goddess” would’ve been his wife by now. Nathan didn’t seem to mind them thinking that either. After that reunion, Nathan started giving me the silent treatment. He claimed he was too busy with work and only came home once a week. Eventually, he even skipped all my prenatal appointments. Meanwhile, his face appeared frequently in Tina’s social media posts. She called him her “perfect mentor,” and they appeared as close as ever. Whenever people misunderstood their relationship, Tina always smiled and shrugged, neither denying nor rejecting it. It was like she welcomed the confusion. In that way, she and Nathan were eerily similar. People mistook Tina for his wife, and Nathan seemed to like it that way. Naturally, this led to fights between us. Nathan defended himself, saying, “The truth will reveal itself. I don’t need to prove anything. Stop trying to control who I’m friends with.” He was always so insecure when it came to Tina. Just a hint of attention from her, and he was wagging his tail like a puppy. But with me, he acted as if he was my best option, the only one I had. Before the baby, I had been so dependent on him, and now, with the baby, it was even harder to leave. He knew that, and it only made him more reckless, more arrogant. So, he wasn’t afraid of losing me. Not even if I died. At four in the afternoon, after what must have been a busy day for him, he finally thought to call me. But I would never answer again. Once. Twice. Three times… As the phone automatically disconnected for the third time, Nathan’s face twisted into an irritated scowl. “Why are you just standing there? Tina’s asking for you!” “What happened to Tina?” He responded as if by reflex, rushing off toward the private ward at full speed the moment he heard her name. Inside the room, Tina was chatting happily with Nathan’s hospital colleagues. One of the young nurses spoke up, “Mrs. Chase, you’re so lucky. You don’t know how worried Dr. Chase was when you were in labor. Even when they called him about another woman with amniotic fluid embolism, he refused to leave your side and insisted on finishing your stitches.” Tina didn’t correct her. She just smiled, accepting the “Mrs. Chase” title without protest. “He was just nervous…” Just then, my attending physician and Dr. Lee, who had assisted Nathan, burst into the room: “Nathan Chase, you’ve gone too far! Not only did you never clarify that Tina isn’t your wife, you’ve let your colleagues misunderstand for so long! They’ve been calling her ‘Mrs. Chase’ all this time!” Dr. Lee’s voice was filled with genuine anger. Nathan stayed silent for a long time, then finally said, “I told you to just call her Tina. You’re the ones who insisted on calling her that.” “Well, well, well. You don’t know, do you? Your wife, Emily Perkins, had amniotic fluid embolism. She didn’t make it. She’s dead!” “And here you are, still doting on Tina, not even bothering to see your wife one last time.” “You’re not even scared she’ll come back to haunt you!” Dr. Lee’s voice grew louder as he tried to push Nathan toward my room. Nathan slammed the door shut, resolute. “I don’t believe it. You’re all in on this, trying to trick me.” “She was the one who chased after me for years. I finally gave her my last name, so there’s no way she’d just leave like that.” He laughed bitterly. “She’s not like Tina. Tina’s always had health issues, but Emily? She’s an athlete. Amniotic fluid embolism is nothing to someone like her.” Dr. Lee couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief. “You’re a gynecologist, and you don’t know how dangerous amniotic fluid embolism is?” “Last year, we lost a patient in perfect physical shape to the same thing!” “Your wife was RH-negative. You know how risky that is, don’t you?”

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I Accidentally Group Messaged My Hotel Room Number to My Seven Boyfriends Right now, seven men are crowded at my hotel room door, glaring at each other furiously. Some saw me as a replacement for their lost love. Others saw me as just another conquest. The one thing they had in common? They each gave me $50,000 a month. I was the plaything of six men. For three months, they toyed with my feelings, humiliated my dignity, and exhausted my body. And all I got out of it was a measly million dollars. I was tired. I decided to pull one last con, then block them all and go back to my hometown to get married. As I was packing my bags, boyfriend number one, Henry Thompson, messaged me saying his dad wanted to meet me. He was being pressured by his family to get married and always used me as an excuse. He’d use me and toss me aside, throwing money in my face, saying I shouldn’t get any ideas – he’d never be with someone as low-class as me. How charming. I loved guys like that. Riding my bicycle, I arrived at the restaurant and saw our reserved table. I spotted him from behind. Fully committing to the act, I snuck up behind him and gently hugged him. I whispered in his ear: “Baby, I’ve missed you so much.” I even nibbled his earlobe for good measure. The strong body in my arms shuddered. “Lucy, I’m over here.” A cold voice spoke from beside me. “The person you’re hugging… is my dad…” Now it was my turn to shudder. Face blindness. I’d hugged the wrong person. I quickly let go of his dad, apologizing profusely: “I’m so sorry sir! I didn’t realize!” His dad’s ears were turning red as he tried to keep a straight face, but his eyes were unfocused: “It’s… it’s fine!” I put on my most charming smile: “You look so young sir, exactly like Henry! I… I couldn’t tell the difference…” His dad was clearly flattered, fighting back a smile as he turned away: “R-really?” I nodded vigorously: “Absolutely! Sitting next to Henry, you two could be brothers! Anyone would be confused!” His dad couldn’t hold back his grin anymore: “Young people these days are so flattering…” Henry couldn’t take it anymore and glared at me: “Shut up!” I obediently closed my mouth and sat down next to him. “Dad, this is my girlfriend, Lucy Evans,” he said halfheartedly, taking my hand. “So please stop trying to set me up with other girls!” His dad straightened his collar, instinctively blurting out: “She seems nice…” But then he remembered his mission and put on a stern face: “She’s not good enough for you!” “Sir, we truly love each other,” I said, gripping Henry’s hand tightly. “I’ll take good care of Henry for the rest of my life.” His dad pulled out a card from his Hermès bag and tossed it in front of me. “$500,000. Leave my son!” “Dad, Lucy would never leave me for a mere $500,000,” Henry said confidently, glancing at me with a smirk. “She’s madly in love with me. Even when I treat her like a dog, calling her whenever I want and tossing her aside, she still clings to me. How could $500,000 possibly…” “I accept!” I snatched up the card and tucked it away. Then, facing Henry’s murderous glare, I said seriously: “Henry, I know I’m not good enough for you. I’ve always felt insecure… You’re always calling me poor, calling me low-class…” Henry froze, his angry expression suddenly tinged with guilt. He hurriedly tried to explain: “I… I was just joking around. I’ve never actually looked down on you. I…” I cut him off, wiping away nonexistent tears: “I know you’re a good guy. Maybe we’re just… not meant to be…” I clutched the card in my pocket and slowly stood up: “Henry, I hope you find someone better… Goodbye.” He reached out, trying to grab me: “Don’t go…” If I didn’t leave now, what if his dad changed his mind? I ran out of there like a bat out of hell.

As I was happily riding my bike, fingering the new credit card and daydreaming about how excited my mom would be back home, a Ferrari pulled up next to me. “Lucy, wait a second.” The window rolled down. It was Henry’s dad. Crap, did he change his mind? I started pedaling furiously. Damn, I couldn’t outrun a Ferrari. “Lucy, why are you running? I… I haven’t told you the PIN for the card yet!” Oh, right! I stopped, and he got out of the car, standing in front of me. “841012,” he said, eyes downcast and face slightly red for some reason. “It’s my birthday. Can you remember it?” Before I could respond, he added: “Or… we could exchange SnapChat info and I’ll send it to you…” I felt obligated to agree, so I obediently added him. “My name is Harrison Thompson. Could you… save it in your contacts?” he asked, seeming conflicted. Something felt off about him. “How do I spell it?” I asked. “I’ll write it for you.” He reached out with his long, elegant fingers and gently took my hand. Using his warm fingertip, he slowly traced out each letter on my palm. He kept his head down, leaning in close. The collar of his suit fluttered in the breeze. A gust of wind brought the scent of his cologne! It was faint, but distinctly masculine! My heart suddenly started racing. Shocking – he was wearing men’s cologne! Damn, he was smooth! Alarm bells started ringing in my head. The dad of a bad guy was probably no saint either. I needed to be on guard. I pulled my hand back and responded coldly: “Got it.” But he seemed somewhat anxious: “I’ve been divorced for a long time. I raised Henry as a single father. You know, many times, at night, all alone… You’re single now too, so maybe… maybe we could just chat sometime…” I waved him off: “We’ll see.” I had ridden about halfway home when it suddenly started pouring rain. My phone rang. Boyfriend number two. He said he was drunk and needed me to pick him up. I sighed. Might as well break up with him today too. When I arrived at the karaoke bar, drenched from the rain, I opened the door to find him with an arm around two models, laughing it up with his rich friends. “See? I told you she’s like a loyal dog. All I have to do is call and she comes running.” One of his friends smirked at me: “Is she really that obedient? Hey sweetheart, take off your clothes. Let’s see those abs.” I immediately teared up, gritting my teeth: “I’m a human being. How can you humiliate me like this…” He grinned smugly: “She only listens to me.” His friend said: “I’ll give you $1500 to take off one item of clothing.” I promptly tossed my sock at him: “Sure thing, boss. That’ll be $3000.” No way I was passing up easy money. I took out my contacts too – another $3000. But he got upset, jumping up to grab my hand as I reached for my hair tie. His eyes were red: “You’d sell your body for a few thousand dollars?” My mom was sick and needed a huge sum for medical bills. If you’d just give me the money, I’d sell my body, sell a kidney, whatever it took. I wiped away a tear: “I know you’re tired of me. Let’s just consider this our last meeting. Let’s break up…” He was the one who humiliated me, yet he was the one getting upset. Made no sense. With a loud crash, he smashed his wine glass on the ground and pulled out several wads of cash, throwing them in my face. “Lucy Evans, you think you can break up with me? You’re nothing but a dog to me!” He’d always had a bit of a sadistic streak. He roughly pinned me to the couch, his long fingers wrapping around my throat. I didn’t understand why he was rewarding me. But I channeled my inner actress and let a few tears fall: “I’m sick. I’m dying…” He froze for a moment, his expression cycling through a range of emotions. His lips trembled as he struggled to speak. His eyes were filled with pain. “Lucy… I…” “You should drink less. It’s bad for your health,” I cut him off, bending down to pick up the money piece by piece. “After I’m gone, Gabriel Mitchell, take care of yourself…” He was stunned for a moment, then blinked: “Who’s Gabriel Mitchell?” Me: …… Crap! I mixed up his name with boyfriend number three! While Gabriel was still processing, I grabbed the money and made a run for it. Behind me, I heard Gabriel’s furious voice: “Lucy Evans! I won’t forget this!!!” Whatever, it was my last con anyway. Once I went back to my hometown, how would he ever find me?

The saying goes: if you act like a loyal dog long enough, you’ll eventually get everything. I happily ran out of the karaoke bar, about to go find my bike, when I unexpectedly bumped into a tall figure. What a coincidence – boyfriend number three, Lucas Wilson. His pale skin made him stand out in a crowd, and his handsome face always seemed somewhat aloof. But right now he was tightly gripping a woman’s arm, his voice choked with tears: “Why did you lie to me?! What did I do wrong? Why did you go find other men…” The woman shoved him to the ground: “You’re so annoying. If it weren’t for your money, who the hell would want to date a little boy like you?” Lucas fell to the ground, mud splattering all over him. He didn’t cry or speak, just stared at her intensely. I rushed over and kicked the woman, sending her stumbling back into several bicycles. “Well well, so you’re the new little girl he found? I didn’t realize you were so loyal.” She got up, ready to come argue with me. Boyfriend number four was a muscle freak who always forced me to lift weights with him. As a girl, I wasn’t too worried about taking on another woman. I easily restrained her arms and shoved her away again before letting her leave. Lucas was still crouched on the ground staring at the sky. I sighed and bent down to help him up. But he slapped my hand away: “I don’t need your help! You think I’ll like you if you do this? Who asked you to interfere?! Just go away!” Ungrateful brat. I remembered the first time I met him. He tossed me a card: “Be my girlfriend. I’ll give you $50,000 a month. You in?” I was stunned: “Huh?” The boy looked extremely impatient: “Are you deaf?” I suspected he might be a human trafficker, trying to lure in naive, innocent girls like me. But my poor body couldn’t resist taking the card. I heard my mouth moving on its own: “Baby.” “Good girl.” He nodded in satisfaction, grabbing my hand and smirking at the girl chasing after him, “See? Even if you don’t like me, plenty of others do. $50,000 – I’d give that to a stray dog before I’d give it to you!” Not only was I not offended, I chimed in: “That’s right!” He just gave me $50,000 out of nowhere – he could call me a dog if he wanted. Hell, I’d bark a few times if that’s what he wanted. The girl’s face darkened as she gritted her teeth: “You’d stoop so low as to be with that kind of cheap girl? Does she deserve $50,000?” The boy was clearly annoyed and immediately transferred another $50,000 to my account: “She’s worth whatever I say she’s worth. Who are you to question it?” I looked at that girl with tears in my eyes. There’s kindness everywhere in this world. What a good person – want to insult me some more? After that, I became Lucas’s go-to tool for pissing off ex-girlfriends. Whenever he broke up with someone, I’d stride over shamelessly to collect my payment. The more insults I got, the more money I made. It was awesome!

But I was planning to break up with all of them today, so naturally I didn’t have a friendly expression. “Oh, goodbye then.” I turned to leave. But he grabbed my leg. “Lucy, are you… are you abandoning me too?” He sat on the ground, looking lost and deeply hurt. I sighed and slowly crouched down. His eyes lit up for a moment: “I knew it. Only you, Lucy…” SLAP I smacked him across the face. He was stunned. “Are you fucking brain-dead? Is dating all you can think about?” I finally vented all my pent-up frustration, laying into him: “For fuck’s sake, you go through 31 girlfriends in a 30-day month. Haven’t you been scammed enough? That lovesick brain of yours is so rotten even zombies wouldn’t eat it!” “And how old are you anyway? An 18-year-old little boy dyeing his hair blond – you think that looks good? And those clothes – I can practically see up to your thighs. If you weren’t a guy, people would think you were working the street corner!” “You’re so young but you’re not focusing on anything good. Running off to nightclubs with women in the middle of the night – have you finished your homework? What are your test scores? Do you even remember Newton’s laws?” “Your poor parents were so unlucky to have such a wasteful brat!” My tirade left him completely dumbfounded. He forgot to cry and just stared at me with his big eyes. After a long while, he finally stammered: “Lucy, you’re so mean… You’ve never yelled at me before…” “Just looking at you pisses me off.” I stood up, about to walk away. “Let’s not see each other anymore…” “I’m sorry…” Unbelievably, an apology came out of his mouth. “Don’t leave me, please…” He hugged me from behind, pressing his body tightly against my back. “My… my parents got divorced. They just give me money but never pay attention to me…” Lucas choked up. “From now on… will you look after me?” His voice was like a helpless kitten, pitifully hard to refuse. “It’s… it’s late. You should go home,” I said, my throat feeling dry. “I need to find a hotel…” “Then I’ll come too…” he said. I kept reminding myself not to trust men’s lies. All men in this world are terrible, always taking advantage of innocent, honest girls like me. But my mouth moved on its own, just like when I first met him: “Okay.”

Lucas held my hand as we walked into a hotel together. “Why is your face so red? Did you catch a cold in the rain? Do you have a fever?” I asked. “N-no fever,” he said. His face was bright red as he avoided the receptionist’s eyes. The hand I was holding was drenched in sweat. “So, I’ll book a room then,” I said, also feeling nervous. “Should I get… two beds or… or one big…?” Steam seemed to be rising from his damp head as he looked down in a panic: “Y-you choose! I… I need to step outside for a bit!” With that, he ran out like a startled rabbit. He was still such a naive, easily fooled boy when it came to love. As an upstanding person, I certainly wouldn’t take advantage of him. So I took a deep breath and righteously told the receptionist: “One king bed, please. If he asks, make sure to say it was the only room left!” The receptionist gave me an “ok” sign with a knowing look. … After showering and changing into a bathrobe in the room, I lay on the bed feeling a bit nervous. But over an hour passed and he still hadn’t returned. Damn it! I knew I couldn’t trust men’s lies! But I still couldn’t help sending him a message: “Where did you go?” A second later, he video called me. On the screen, Lucas was clearly in a hair salon. His hair had been dyed back to black, revealing a pure, sunny face that looked quite youthful. “Lucy, do you… do you like me better this way?” he asked shyly. He kept his head down, his face still flushed. He was just… illegally cute! I nodded vigorously. “Then… then I’ll head back now,” he said, brushing his hair to reveal a glimpse of his pale neck. “What’s the… the room number?” As soon as he finished speaking, he got too embarrassed and quickly ended the video call. I wiped the drool from the corner of my mouth, rushed out to check the room number, and hurriedly sent it to him. Lying back on the bed, I started examining the little items on the nightstand, debating whether to try one out first. Yes, I, at the ripe old age of 26, was encountering these for the first time. How embarrassing. But before even 10 minutes had passed, there was a knock at the door. I jumped up and ran to open it with a giddy smile: “How did you get here so fas…” Halfway through my sentence, my smile froze on my face. Why was it… Gabriel? “I was in the area and got your message, so I came over,” Gabriel said with a cold smirk, looking down at me. “Why aren’t you smiling anymore? Is the cancer flaring up, making it hard to smile?” His icy gaze looked like he wanted to kill me. I gulped and silently picked up my phone. A string of new message notifications with red dots lit up the screen. Help! I had accidentally group messaged the hotel room number! To a list called “One Big Happy Family”… With exactly seven people in it.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “294607”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #玄幻Fantsy #狼人werewolf #擦边Steamy #励志Inspiring #现实主义Realistic #校园School #后宫Harem #重生Reborn #魔幻Magic #惊悚Thriller

In the fifth year of my marriage to James Carson, a shadow fell over my once-comfortable life. A young, beautiful assistant appeared by his side, her presence like an unspoken threat, unraveling everything I had built. But that was nothing compared to the cruel twist of fate that awaited me—I had entered the final countdown of my life. I was dying. I had to seek revenge. Life is full of regrets, and I simply had more than most. Leaving the doctor’s office, I took a picture of my medical report and sent it to James. His reply came quickly. “Baby, I have a business trip today, so I’ll be home late. Get some rest early.” He didn’t even glance at the report I sent him. Remembering the doctor’s words, I wanted to cry, to let it all out, but realized I had forgotten how to cry. “The situation isn’t good. You should be admitted for treatment… at most, six months.” The doctor’s words felt like a verdict, freezing my life at age 25.

James didn’t come home that night. Six months ago, I found out he had a “canary” — a girl he was hiding in an apartment right across from Carson Corp. Tower. He thought I didn’t know about his affair, but his little canary was far from subtle, flaunting her “perfect” life all over Instagram, almost daring me to notice. It all started when an unknown number added me on WhatsApp, claiming to be Lily Moore, James’s assistant. I rarely left the house and barely contacted anyone from his work. I didn’t even have the phone number of James’s long-time secretary. So, an assistant having my contact? That was suspicious on its own. As expected, Lily’s Instagram was full of photos with James—traveling together, skiing together, having dinner together… None of them were overly intimate, but the chemistry was palpable in every shot. Afterward, I ordered all my favorite dishes for myself, indulging in the feast alone. Was I heartbroken? Maybe once, but my body couldn’t afford the luxury of dwelling on meaningless heartbreak. “Madam, shall I make you some soup for nourishment?” Mrs. Turner, who had cared for me for years, looked at me with concern as I devoured the meal. “No, thank you. I just want to enjoy a good meal. One won’t hurt.” I gave Mrs. Turner a six-month leave, with full pay. I’m an odd person—I crave attention, but when it’s given, I never know how to handle it. At the end of my life, I just wanted to slip away quietly, alone.

“Baby, wake up. I made breakfast. Have some before you go back to sleep.” James always had this way of being gentle, like he could melt you with his touch, no matter how high the walls around your heart were. “When did you get back?” I masked all my thoughts and spoke to him as usual. “Got home at six this morning. Where’s Mrs. Turner? Did she take the day off?” He laid out my clothes and tidied the bed with care. He followed me into the bathroom, squeezing toothpaste onto my brush while I got ready. After my shower, he was waiting with a towel to dry me off, even blow-drying my hair. Could a man this attentive really be unfaithful? I had asked myself this question countless times. “Mrs. Turner had some personal matters, so I gave her a six-month break.” “Should we hire another caretaker? I don’t like the idea of you being home alone.” James’s eyes never left me, his gaze soft and tender, pulling me in. But the faint scent of women’s perfume lingering in the air reminded me of just how deceptive James had become. “No need. It’s only for six months. I was thinking of traveling to Europe anyway.” “Europe? Is your health up for that? What did the doctors say yesterday?” James’s worry seemed genuine as he took my hand and kept asking. His concern wasn’t fake. I searched his face for any signs of pretense, but I found none. Could love be this well acted? “The results are the same. But you know how much I’ve always wanted to see Europe—castles, scenery, it’ll do me good.” “Alright, baby. I’m sorry I can’t go with you, I’m just too busy. Take lots of photos, okay? And please, hire a caretaker to look after you.” James visibly relaxed as he said this. “Yeah, I will.” James kept talking as I quietly ate breakfast, saying little in return. I was too scared to slip, too afraid I might blurt out the truth, afraid I’d lose the last bit of composure I had. When I first discovered his affair, I had already thought of revenge. Divorce? I didn’t have time for that. I wasn’t going to waste what was left of my life on something so pointless. Whether I divorced him or not didn’t change a thing. Who cares what you’re called after you’re gone? No, the only thing I could do was ruin his reputation, make the scandal explode. That seemed to be the only power I still held. With James, he always did most of the talking. Maybe it had to do with my upbringing—I wasn’t much of a talker, but I loved listening to him. I never went to school, so James hired a tutor just for me. Back then, after his classes, he’d run over to my house, grade my homework, and go over my progress. He would ramble on about everything that happened at school—who got bullied, who was annoying, who tattled on someone. With him around, my life seemed so full. Even now, after work, he would recount his entire day, tell me what he ate, what meetings he attended, who he met, and even send me videos and pictures. It was this James Carson that made me believe in our love for so long. “Baby, guess what this is?” James slid an elegantly wrapped box toward me. “What is it? A gift?” In that moment, I forgot about his affair, instinctively reacting with curiosity, wondering what was inside. I opened the box—it was an evening gown designed by James himself. Light green, my favorite color. A color full of life. I didn’t go out much, and my skin was pale. James used to say that when I wore green, I looked like a little fawn in the woods. I put on the dress, did a simple makeup look, and called a photography team to the house to take tons of beautiful photos. James was in some of the pictures too. Today, James didn’t leave the house. We spent the day painting and watching movies together. It felt like we had gone back to the way things used to be. We had endless conversations and shared so much. That night, after my shower, I found James waiting for me in bed. I hesitated for a moment, thinking of what the private investigator had uncovered. James and Lily hadn’t taken things that far yet. Just for tonight—one last night with the man who had once loved me so deeply. Because of my health, we hadn’t been intimate much. But that night, James held me close, his gentle kisses falling all over me. I had always restrained myself, wanting to live longer, but tonight I indulged. It was a goodbye, a final release. Afterward, James carefully cleaned me up, holding me as we fell asleep. “James.” I wanted to ask him about Lily. “Hmm? What is it, baby? Are you uncomfortable? Let me massage you.” His large hand rested on my lower back, gently kneading. He was so tender. I couldn’t understand it anymore. “James, if you don’t love me anymore, please tell me. I’ll leave without making a fuss.” In the end, I couldn’t bring myself to ask him about the affair. Maybe I didn’t want to lose this last moment of tenderness. “Anna, I love you. I’ve always loved you. It’s been over ten years, and nothing’s changed. Wherever you are, that’s where my home is. I can’t even imagine my life without you.” James held me tighter. That night, I didn’t sleep well. The moonlight filtered through the curtains, illuminating James’s face. At 30, he still looked young, but his features were more defined than before. Tracing the contours of his face, I mentally said goodbye to my youth. Back when I used to read novels, whenever I came across stories of men cheating, I’d wonder how I’d react if my own husband did the same. Would I lose my mind? Would I become hysterical, unable to let go? But in reality, from the moment I found out about James’s affair, I was calm. No anger, no drama. It felt like all the energy had been drained out of me. All I wanted was to get away from this place.

James was supposed to take me to the airport, but he left after taking a phone call. I found a seat by the window, watching the bustling crowds when a young woman approached me. I had never seen her before, but I knew instantly who she was—Lily Moore, James’s little “canary.” Lily reached out her hand. “Hi, I’m Lily Moore. I’d like to talk to you about James.” I didn’t shake her hand. I didn’t have the strength, and frankly, the thought of touching her made me feel dirty. I turned on the voice recorder on my phone and motioned for her to sit across from me. “Go ahead, have a seat. I have a flight to catch, so you’ve got twenty minutes.” I studied the young girl closely—pretty, cute, radiating youth. It wasn’t hard to see why James liked her. Hell, even I could see the appeal. Years of medication had left me feeling like an old woman. “Anna Stevens, you know I’m with James now. Why haven’t you divorced him? He says he doesn’t love you. A loveless, sexless marriage—what’s the point?” Too young, too bold. She ruined her pretty face the moment she opened her mouth. “You’re the third woman to come to me with this story. All of you say James doesn’t love me, that you’re his one true love, and all of you beg me to leave him. If you’re so close to him, why not ask James to divorce me instead?” Lily’s face flashed with disbelief, but she quickly tried to regain her composure. “James is an adult. He can decide for himself whether he loves you or not, and if he wants to stay with you.” “You’re lying. James is with me all the time. There’s no way he’s seeing anyone else.” I wasn’t lying, though. Back in college, there was a girl who came to me, asking me to let James go. After James started at Carson Corp., another woman, arranged by his parents, tried to get between us. And now Lily Moore was the third. “James tells me the same thing—that he only loves me, that there’s no one else. Now, who should I believe?” I found a strange sense of amusement in this, watching Lily’s expressions shift from shock to anger. It was entertaining, really. “You’re doing this on purpose. You refuse to divorce him so that our relationship can’t be public. Well, you won’t win.” She spat out her words and instinctively placed a protective hand over her stomach. Was this supposed to provoke me? I knew for a fact James hadn’t slept with her yet, so whose baby was she carrying? “You’re here because James wouldn’t agree to divorce me, aren’t you? I bet you’ve cried, screamed, done everything to try and hold onto him. That’s why you got pregnant, right?” “But Miss Moore, you seem to have forgotten—people in our circle keep mistresses all the time. Don’t like one? They’ll just find another. It’s cleaner than hiring a prostitute, and they don’t have to worry about catching something.” Watching Lily’s face darken brought a surprising sense of relief to my troubled mind. “But none of these canaries ever make it into the house.” I looked her over, carefully evaluating the young woman sitting before me. “You know why?” I pointed at her head. “Because they’re too stupid. Beautiful, stupid toys you can play with, but no man in his right mind would bring one home to ruin the family.” The display of emotions on her face was truly fascinating. “James told me you can’t have children. The Carson family would never let you keep the title of Mrs. Carson. You’re going to be thrown out sooner or later.” Her voice shook with rage. “With today’s technology, James and I could have a child whenever we want. We could even select the best genes for the smartest baby. If you want to trade your womb for your future, that’s your business. But I doubt any illegitimate child of yours will ever enter the Carson home.” She wasn’t wrong—I couldn’t have children. But when we got married, we had agreed to use surrogacy by the time I turned 30. “Oh, by the way, are you sure the baby’s James’s? You can do a DNA test at three months, you know.” “You…!” Lily trembled with anger and stormed off in a huff. So, the baby wasn’t James’s after all. Still too young, not nearly enough experience to stand her ground. I saved the voice recording on my phone and went over to the airport café to request footage from their security cameras. If I was going to fight back, I needed to do it right.

I made it to Switzerland and got in touch with one of the few friends I had left. “This hospice is really nice. It’s close to my house, and aside from being a bit pricey, it’s perfect.” Chloe Davis hadn’t changed one bit. “Anna, are you really not planning to return to New York?” Chloe didn’t understand my choice. Chloe had immigrated to escape her family’s burdens, but she still had a house in the city and had even bought a burial plot. She always said she couldn’t die abroad. I smiled, reaching out to ruffle her hair like I used to when we were kids. Still soft and fluffy. “You know there’s no one left in New York for me to see. Just like you, leaving was the only way to truly live.” “What about you and James…?” She trailed off, unsure how to continue. Chloe wasn’t stupid. She could easily piece together what had happened—when someone dying of a terminal illness chooses not to come home, it doesn’t take much to figure out why. “He cheated. His mistress is pregnant. I’m not even sure if it’s his, but they’ve been involved for months. I ran into her just before my flight.” I didn’t know how I managed to say these words out loud. Once, the idea of exposing my wounds terrified me. But now, I could say it with ease. “Anna, you stay here and rest. I’ve taken a long leave from work. I’ll be here with you.” Chloe pulled me into her arms. Had she started working out? Her embrace felt so strong, so warm.

I rested for two days, mostly because my body couldn’t handle much more than that. I had started eating less—more of what I put in was coming back out. I was relying on IVs to keep me alive. Meanwhile, I contacted a hacker and the private investigator back home. “What’s the latest update?” I asked the investigator I had hired after discovering James’s affair. “We’ve been following them closely. I’ve sent all the footage to your email. Oh, and there’s some drama—Miss Moore caused a scene at the Carson home, throwing a fit because of the pregnancy.” “Upload everything. All the evidence, especially the videos. Make sure it goes viral—buy trending spots, pay social media trolls, whatever it takes to keep it in the public eye for at least a week. Don’t worry about the cost. I’m dying; how much more can I really spend?” “Miss Stevens, there’s also an audio recording. Would you like to hear it?” The investigator’s normally casual tone had turned serious. “Send it to my email.” Curiosity won out in the end. I knew it wouldn’t be anything good, but I still wanted to listen.

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In the dead of night, I was jolted awake by the vibration of my phone, my body burning with fever. The voice on the other end was one I’d never forget – it was my daughter calling! But that was impossible. My daughter had died three years ago! Receiving a call from my daughter, I suddenly sat up in bed, my bare feet touching the cold floor. “Lily, is it really you? It’s Mom.” The phone crackled with static, but soon my daughter’s voice became clearer. “Mom, didn’t we just pay the electricity bill yesterday? Why is there suddenly a power outage? I’m so scared. Mom, where are you? Please come back quickly.” It was my daughter’s voice! There was no mistake! Wait a minute! A power outage? My heart suddenly contracted, and my breathing became rapid. Three years ago, on the day my daughter passed away, there was an unexplained power outage in our apartment building. My daughter was killed at home, waiting for me to return until her last breath. But I couldn’t go back because I was working overtime on a crucial project. I told her to use a flashlight and wait at home, and I called my husband to go back. Lily was only twelve, enjoying her perfect vacation. I had promised to take her to Disneyland, but all that awaited was her cold body. I pinched myself hard, feeling the pain distinctly. I didn’t know what was happening, and I couldn’t believe I was dreaming. I didn’t care who was on the other end of the phone, but I couldn’t let her get hurt. “Lily, lock the front door and hide in Mom’s bedroom. Get under the bed, cover yourself with the panel, and don’t open the door for anyone!” The master bedroom’s bed was custom-designed. The space underneath was hollow for easy cleaning, with a panel to cover it. From the outside, it looked like a solid bed touching the floor. I heard rustling sounds on the other end, and after a while, my daughter asked in a low voice, “Should I not open the door even if it’s you or Dad knocking?” I couldn’t take any chances. I had to nip any evil in the bud. “Dad and I have keys, Lily. Don’t worry. Mom will find a way to get back soon.” “Okay, Mom. I’ll wait for you to come back.” Lily told me the time on her end was ten minutes to 3 AM. I remembered that my daughter’s autopsy report showed her time of death as 3 AM. I instructed Lily not to speak and to dim her phone’s screen. I felt my forehead, which was burning like a small furnace. However, my palms and back were covered in cold sweat. I fumbled around the nightstand for fever and pain medication while thinking about how to resolve this crisis. If my daughter from three years ago could call me, could I also call myself from three years ago? But Lily’s smartwatch was set to only make calls and send text messages. If I hung up now and called back later, it would make a sound! Communicating via text would be too slow! So, I could only try to text my past self and my husband from three years ago, urging them to rush home and save our daughter. In the silent air, only the intermittent breathing of my daughter and me could be heard. One minute, two minutes… Ding! Incredibly, I received a reply! I received a text from myself to myself. And three consecutive SnapChat messages from my husband. [Our daughter died three years ago!] [What are you going crazy about now!?] [Don’t run around, stay at home. I’ll be back soon.] The SnapChat message alerts went “ding ding ding.” I felt my head throbbing, the pain intensifying. What should I do? I had no way to contact my husband and myself from three years ago. How could I save my daughter? In my anxiety, I accidentally knocked over the medicine bottle on the nightstand. Instinctively reaching to catch it, I bumped the water glass. The glass tumbler crashed to the floor, making a piercing sound. Shards scattered everywhere, water dripping from the edge of the nightstand. The back of my hand was cut by flying glass fragments. But I couldn’t even feel the pain. I quickly covered the phone’s microphone, praying that nothing had been heard on the other end. But it was too late! From the other end of the phone came a man’s sinister and triumphant laugh. “Hehe, I’ve found you!” My head buzzed as if hit by a bomb! “No! Please, spare Lily!” I shouted frantically into the phone. But what came next was a sound of despair. My daughter’s screams of agony, mixed with the man’s eerie, excited laughter. Then, abruptly, both laughters ceased. The phone emitted a devastating sound. “Bzz bzz bzz…”

I couldn’t control my screams, like a lion caught in a trap. I swept everything off the nightstand, and the warm yellow lamp flickered twice before going out. The entire bedroom plunged into endless darkness. Suddenly, there was a heavy pounding on the door behind me. “What are you doing!” My husband, Jack, was back. He turned on the light, and I felt like a drowning person, struggling in the cold embrace, waiting desperately for God to save me. Jack frowned, quickly running over to hug me. At that moment, I seemed to find my anchor, believing that my daughter and I would soon be saved. I told him everything that had just happened, but Jack gripped my shoulders and shook me. “Wake up! Lily is dead! Three years ago, someone broke in to rob us, and our daughter was killed!” “I know, but just now, it was clearly Lily calling me.” I stubbornly redialed the number, wanting to prove that everything I said was true. Although our daughter had passed away, I had kept her smartwatch. I secretly kept it charged and paid the phone bill. However, when I dialed, it showed the number was not in service! The exact same number, and the service hadn’t been disconnected, how could it be out of service? I burst into tears, my eyes red as I mumbled over and over. “How can this be, it’s impossible, how can this happen…” Jack held me tightly in his arms, gently patting my back, patiently comforting me. “I’m sorry, I lost control of my temper earlier and yelled at you. Look at you, your forehead is so hot, you must have had a nightmare just now.” Then, Jack helped me lie down on the bed and brought me medicine and water. “Be good, take the cold medicine and get some sleep.” For a moment, I couldn’t tell if I had really had a nightmare or not. But the panic in my heart hadn’t lessened a bit. Because in my impression, my husband wasn’t someone who would apologize to me on his own initiative. Everything felt strange, and my head was hurting badly. I didn’t dare to defy him at the moment, so I could only obediently do as he said. “You sleep first, I’m going to the study to organize some files I need for tomorrow.” Jack said, placing a kiss on my forehead before closing the door and leaving. I quickly spat out the medicine I had been holding under my tongue, wrapped it in a tissue, and threw it in the trash. After waiting a while, I heard no movement outside. I quietly opened the jewelry box and took out my daughter’s smartwatch. It had power and an active phone plan. The number was correct too. The first three digits were the same as mine, and the last eight digits were two sets of repeated four-digit numbers, which was also Lily’s birthday. I knew it by heart, how could I possibly remember it wrong? I quickly unlocked my phone, wanting to try again. However, I discovered there were over twenty missed calls! It was my daughter’s number! I hurriedly called back, my eyes fixed on the smartwatch in the jewelry box. The pink smartwatch remained in sleep mode. The call connected! From the other end came my daughter’s faint voice. Weak, but with a noticeable crying tone. “Mom, why didn’t you answer the phone, Mom save me, save me quickly…” Then came a series of dull thuds. Heavy, muffled impacts, the sound of a blunt object striking flesh. Tears streamed down my face as I couldn’t shake the horrific image of my daughter’s condition after death. Brutally beaten with a heavy object, literally bludgeoned to death. Skull fractured, neck twisted, spine broken, her adorable face a bloody mess… I quickly opened the door and went to find Jack in the study. However, the study light was on, the door open, but no one was there. A quick glance around showed that I was the only one in the entire house. I hadn’t taken the medicine, nor had I fallen asleep, so this definitely wasn’t a dream! This was all real, my daughter from another time was calling for help! What should I do, what on earth should I do! If my death could exchange for my daughter’s life, I would jump out the window without hesitation right now. Jumping from the 27th floor, I would surely die beyond any doubt. I bit my hand hard, not daring to scream out loud. However, the killer on the other end of the phone still discovered my presence. “Heh, this bitch is actually making a phone call!” This was an unfamiliar voice! It was a woman’s voice! A thought struck me, making me suddenly hold my breath, my heart skipping a beat. There were two people who killed my daughter! “I know who you are. If you let my daughter go, I won’t pursue this matter!” Of course, I didn’t know who the killer was. This was just a delaying tactic, hoping my daughter would suffer less torture. However, the call was disconnected. I only heard Lily cry out “Mom” once. I quickly redialed, and the whole situation took a new turn. I didn’t call Jack; at a time like this, he wouldn’t believe me. He would only think I was going crazy because I couldn’t accept our daughter’s death. I called my brother, and in the short ten seconds while waiting, a thousand thoughts raced through my mind. I didn’t tell my brother what had happened, but asked him for detailed information about my daughter’s death. My brother is a detective, and he was in charge of my daughter’s case back then. To avoid unnecessary trouble, I couldn’t tell him about the cross-time phone call from my daughter three years ago asking for help. On the other end of the phone, my brother was silent for a moment. Obviously, he hesitated. But soon, without asking me why, he sent me all the relevant information. After quickly scanning a few key points, I asked my brother how many killers there were. “One… wait, why does the file say two? I remember it was one.” My brother’s confusion excited me a bit. I ended the call, my eyes full of hope. We all remembered that the killer who murdered my daughter was one person. And the initial forensic report indicated that the killer was an adult male about 6 feet tall. But now, the file showed that there were two killers. A man and a woman, working together. This meant that the cross-time phone call between my daughter and me had changed the course of events. So, could I use these cross-time calls to completely change the outcome of this whole incident? Even if the hope was slim, for my daughter’s sake, I had to try!

Excitedly, I called my husband. I wanted to ask him if he still remembered how many people killed our daughter. He would surely be like my brother, remembering it as one person. But the file showed two people. Then, I could use this to prove that the cross-time call between my daughter and me was real. However, after five or six calls, no one answered. As I was hesitating, wondering if I should go to my brother first to discuss, the seventh call was finally answered. “Hello, who is this? Don’t you let people sleep in the middle of the night? Calling twice without an answer and still keep calling, are you brain-damaged or something!” I called my husband, but a woman answered! Judging by her voice, she sounded about thirty. I was stunned, anger enveloping me, but I knew now wasn’t the time to act rashly. Because the woman yelled impatiently again. “Which bitch is calling? So annoying, interrupting people making love.” With that, the call ended. I couldn’t sit still anymore. This woman’s voice was too familiar! Especially that phrase. Bitch! The voice was identical! This was clearly the woman from the call, one of the killers who murdered my daughter! My husband was actually with one of the killers!

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “294605”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #玄幻Fantsy #狼人werewolf #擦边Steamy #励志Inspiring #现实主义Realistic #校园School #后宫Harem #重生Reborn #魔幻Magic #惊悚Thriller