I had just unveiled the centerpiece of my shop to three million viewers online — pulling back the red silk with a flourish — when Selena, my top-donating fan, kicked my front door open and walked in with two bodyguards at her back. She slammed a pregnancy test and a stack of explicit love letters straight into my face. “Quinn! You used my fiancé’s money to open this shop, and you’re carrying his bastard child — you make me sick!” The comment section exploded. “Home wrecker, go die” flooded every inch of the screen. In my previous life, the chaos had shattered me. I’d panicked and cut the stream. My best friend Vivian had locked me in the basement storage room under the guise of “letting things cool down.” That night, the restoration solvent in the storage room leaked. I was poisoned to death in the dark. I clawed at the iron door until my fingernails tore — and all I got in return was Vivian’s cold laugh from the other side. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the exact moment before Selena’s hand came down. I shot my arm up and seized her wrist, let out a sharp laugh, and shoved the camera directly into her face. “Selena, since you’re claiming I’m carrying Ethan’s child — then let’s invite Ethan into this livestream right now. In front of everyone. Let’s find out exactly whose child this really is.”

The heat of the studio lights burned against my cheeks. The ringing in my ears hadn’t faded yet, and Selena’s face — twisted with fury — was already filling my entire field of vision. Smack. The thick stack of love letters and the pregnancy test hit the bridge of my nose like a wave of papers. The sharp edge of one page sliced a thin cut across my cheek. The pain was real. I wasn’t dead. I gulped air in ragged breaths. The burning sensation in my chest — the one the chemical solvent had carved into me — still lingered like a phantom. But everything around me was undeniably, unmistakably real. Three years in the past. My antique restoration studio. The anniversary livestream. “Quinn! Have you no shame!” Selena’s voice was sharp enough to blow out the microphone. She was dressed in a tailored designer suit, four broad-shouldered bodyguards behind her, completely blocking the front entrance to my studio. The viewer count in the top corner of the stream was climbing at a terrifying rate. One million. Two million. Three million. Selena was my top donor and one of the most well-known socialites in the industry. She’d commissioned over a million dollars’ worth of restoration work from me. Every time I went live, she’d throw in massive tips and push my stream to the top of the platform. Everyone had assumed she was here today to cheer me on. Then she dropped the pregnancy test on my worktable. “Everyone, take a good look! This is the so-called ‘genius jewelry restorer’ you’ve all been worshipping!” Selena jabbed her finger in my face, her hand trembling. “She’s been living off my fiancé Ethan’s money, playing the independent woman act — all while carrying his bastard behind closed doors!” “Quinn, you’ve been spending my money and sleeping with my man. Don’t you ever have nightmares?” After a stunned silence, the comment section detonated. “Oh my god, this is INSANE.” “Top donor exposing the other woman live? Let’s gooo!” “I literally just bought one of her mystery restoration boxes. Disgusting. I want a refund.” “Looks innocent on the outside and pulls this garbage. Unbelievable.” “Cancel her. This kind of trash influencer needs to be gone.” The curses and insults rolled across the screen like a tidal wave. My fingertips rested on the edge of the worktable. They’d gone cold and numb. I knew this. I knew all of this. It was the same day in my previous life. The same livestream. I had just finished showing the world a sapphire tiara I’d spent six months restoring when Selena stormed in with her people. Back then, my first instinct hadn’t been to fight back. It had been fear. Fear that the studio’s reputation would be destroyed. Fear that clients would cancel. Fear that years of work would collapse overnight. Vivian had been standing beside me, eyes red, grabbing my arm in a panic. “Quinn, cut the stream!” “These people online just want drama. The longer you stream, the worse it gets. Selena’s furious right now — let’s apologize to her privately, refund whatever she needs, and stop this before it spirals.” I had believed her. I’d cut the stream in a panic. Afterward, Vivian wrote a public statement on my behalf. Not a single line admitted I’d been the other woman — but every sentence implied I was “naive,” “deceived by Ethan,” and “willing to take full responsibility.” The next day, Selena brought people to wreck my studio. Irreplaceable antiques were smashed to pieces. Restoration chemicals soaked the floor. Then came the solvent leak in the basement. I was locked inside. The fumes crept down my throat, slow and patient. From behind the door, I heard Vivian’s voice. “I told you to sign the studio over to me. You had to be stubborn. Now look — your name is ruined, your reputation is gone. This place was always going to be mine in the end.” In that moment, every unanswered question fell into place. Now, I was back at the starting point of my own destruction. A cup of warm water appeared at my elbow. Vivian’s voice dropped low — still wearing that mask of frantic concern. “Quinn, you look terrible. Listen to me — don’t go head to head with Selena right now.” “She’s furious. Just back down a little. Tell her you didn’t know Ethan was engaged. Keep her calm for now and I’ll handle the PR afterward.” The rim of the cup was half an inch from my hand. I didn’t take it. Vivian had been my college roommate. My co-founder and operations director at the studio. I handled restoration, authentication, and on-camera work. She handled business development, advertising, and community management. The studio had grown from a basement workshop to ten million followers. She’d had a real hand in that. In my previous life, I’d believed that too. Right up until I was choking on poison gas and heard her laugh. Vivian noticed I hadn’t taken the water. Something flickered behind her eyes — a split-second stiffness she almost managed to hide. Then the mask of worry slid back into place. “Quinn, the comment section is already filling up with reports. We built this business on our reputation. That’s everything.” Reputation is everything. But in my previous life, caring too much about my reputation was exactly what got me killed. I took a slow breath, looked past Vivian, and fixed my gaze on Selena’s furious face. I didn’t cut the stream. Instead, I grabbed the backup phone from its stand, brought the lens in close, and pointed it directly at Selena — and at the pregnancy test sitting on my worktable. “I’m not cutting the stream.” My voice was quiet, but it landed like a stone in the silence. Vivian’s lips twitched. “Quinn, are you out of your mind?!” “I’m not the one who’s lost their mind.” I steadied the camera and looked directly into the lens. “Selena. Since you’ve decided I’ve been involved with Ethan, let’s settle this properly.” “You’re saying I’m carrying Ethan’s child. That I’ve been taking his money.” “Fine. Then call Ethan. Right now.” “In front of everyone watching — I want to ask him myself where this child came from.”

The entire studio went dead silent. The comment feed stuttered for a moment — then exploded at ten times the speed it had before. “She’s fighting back?! The owner is actually fighting back?!” “The nerve on this woman — absolute ice.” “Still denying it even with a pregnancy test in her face. Classic.” “Waiting for the guy to show up. Three-way confrontation. This tea is piping hot.” Selena clearly hadn’t expected this. In her version of events, I was supposed to collapse in tears. Beg for forgiveness. Run. She ground her teeth and locked eyes with me. “Quinn, you never know when to quit.” “You think Ethan’s going to protect you? He figured out what you are a long time ago.” She pulled out her phone, jabbing at the screen with hard, furious taps. “I’m calling him right now. Let him tell everyone exactly who you really are.” The call connected. Ring. Ring. Every tone tightened the nerves of the millions watching. Vivian suddenly stepped forward, putting herself between me and Selena. Her eyes glistened. Her voice broke with what sounded like genuine distress. “Selena, please — don’t do this to Quinn!” “Quinn is a victim too! Ethan told her he was single the whole time. She had no idea you existed. We’re all women here — why push her this far?” The moment those words hit the air, the comment section shifted. “The best friend just admitted it!” “Wait — so she’s basically confirming Quinn knew Ethan and had a relationship with him?” “Knowing about the fiancée or not doesn’t matter. Taking the money is a fact. A home wrecker is a home wrecker.” “That best friend is something else — pretending to defend her while stabbing her in the back.” I turned my head and looked at Vivian with cold, flat eyes. “Vivian. When did I ever say I knew Ethan?” Vivian’s expression froze. Her gaze darted away. “Quinn, this isn’t the time to be difficult! Men will throw anyone under the bus to protect themselves. If you just admit he deceived you, that’s way better than letting people think you went after him on purpose.” “So your advice is — to admit to something I never did, just to ‘cut my losses’?” I stepped closer to her, my gaze sharp as a blade. “Vivian, are you my operations director, or are you working for Selena?” Vivian’s foot started tapping frantically. Tears streamed down her face. “Quinn, how could you think that about me? I’ve been grinding through this with you since we were in a basement. I’m trying to save you!” Save me. That was the same line she’d used in my previous life — every time she steered me one step deeper into the trap. Every time she made me bow my head. Every time she made me stay quiet. All of it had led to a place I couldn’t come back from. Click. The call went through. Through the speaker came a low, slightly raspy male voice. “Hey, what’s going on?” Selena grabbed onto it like a lifeline. Tears spilled down her face. “Ethan! I’m at Quinn’s studio! Tell everyone — didn’t she deceive you? Isn’t she the one who took your money and tried to trap you with a pregnancy?” A few seconds of silence on the other end. Then the voice let out a slow sigh. “Quinn, let it go.” “Just give Selena back whatever needs to be returned. You and I… this is where it ends. I don’t want to hurt anyone.” The comment section detonated. “Ethan just confirmed it! What else is there to explain?” “Trash man, trash woman — perfect match.” “He’s calling her by her nickname and she wants us to believe nothing happened?” “Quinn get out of the restoration industry. Give back the money!” Selena let out a cold, triumphant laugh and held the phone up in front of me. “You heard him. Quinn — what do you have to say now?” I stared at that phone. Listened to the voice coming through it — that voice with just a faint trace of static — and I smiled. Not bitterness. Not performance. The thrill of finally getting your hands on what you’ve been chasing. In my previous life, that voice had been the last straw that broke me. Now, it was the first card in my winning hand. “Ethan, right?” I leaned toward the mic, my voice perfectly steady. “You say you don’t want to hurt anyone. So why won’t you turn on video? Why won’t you show your face?” Silence. “You’re saying you know me. That we had something. Fine — let me ask you a few questions.” I picked up a tool from the worktable. “Last month, you said your favorite piece I’d ever restored was an emerald necklace. So tell me — what technique did I use on the pendant?” Faint breathing on the other end. Selena jumped in to defend him. “Ethan’s a mess right now. Who memorizes the craftsmanship on some necklace?” I ignored her and kept my eyes on the phone. “Okay. Too technical. Can’t remember. Let me make it easier.” “If you’ve visited my studio as often as you claim — tell me what’s displayed in the entryway, right when you walk in. What antique. What design.” The seconds ticked by. Millions of viewers held their breath. Vivian quietly edged back half a step, her hand slipping into her jacket pocket. Ten seconds. Twenty seconds. The “Ethan” on the other end finally cleared his throat. “I’ve got a stomach thing. I’m at the hospital. I’m not doing this.” “Not doing this?” I let out a short, cold laugh. “A man who supposedly visited my studio constantly. Who was so close with me that I’m pregnant with his child. And he doesn’t even know what my front door looks like?” “Ethan — is it really that your stomach hurts? Or is it that you have never once set foot in this place?”

Something shifted in the comment section — a hesitation, a crack. “Okay but that’s kind of a good point. Why can’t he answer anything?” “If you’re such a regular, how do you not know the layout?” “What if the fiancée staged this whole thing to sabotage her?” “Hold on, let this play out. This is getting strange.” Selena’s expression flickered, but she recovered fast. “Quinn, stop trying to change the subject! Failing a couple of trivia questions doesn’t prove anything. The bank transfers are real and they’re on paper!” She pulled a stack of printed bank statements from her bag and slapped them on the table. “Everyone look! Over the past six months, Ethan transferred five hundred thousand dollars to this woman. Every single note says ‘Quinn — studio rent’ or ‘Quinn — materials’!” The camera zoomed in on the papers. Black text on white. Recipient: Quinn. Account ending in: 8892. Vivian sucked in a sharp breath beside me, covering her mouth. “Quinn… you actually received all of this? You told me every transaction in the studio was legitimate restoration fees.” That line landed exactly where she aimed it — neat and precise, cementing the image of me pocketing a small fortune. I looked at those bank records and let out a quiet, internal laugh. In my previous life, this had knocked me flat. Because the account ending in 8892 was genuinely opened under my name. But I had never once seen that card. I turned and walked to the safe, entered the code, and pulled out a thick stack of ledgers and a USB drive. “Selena, you’re saying Ethan transferred me five hundred thousand dollars.” I plugged the drive into the computer and threw the studio’s official account records directly onto the livestream screen. “This is every single transaction that has passed through Restored by Quinn since we opened. Every deposit has a corresponding restoration contract, invoice, and client signature.” “You’re welcome to hire any auditing firm you want. Go through every line. Find one cent that came from Ethan.” Selena’s lip curled. “Of course he wouldn’t use the business account. He sent it to your personal account. Ending in 8892.” “Is that so?” I held up my ID in front of the camera. “I have two bank accounts. One ending in 3341. One ending in 0927.” “If you don’t believe me, I’ll log into mobile banking right now. Or we can call the police and let them verify whether I have any account ending in 8892.” Selena faltered. Something behind her eyes went uncertain as she looked at my steady expression. “That’s impossible. I exported that from Ethan’s phone myself. Your name is right there on the transfer.” “Names can match. You can even open accounts with fake ID.” I held her gaze, word by word. “Selena, you’ve been deceived.” “Someone used my name, created a fraudulent account, and took your money.” “You’re lying!” Selena’s voice shot up. “Ethan loves me. He would never do that.” “Whether he loves you or not isn’t my business. But I can tell you — whoever that ‘Ethan’ is on the phone, he is not the man you think he is.” I turned and looked at Vivian, who had been quietly pressing herself into the corner. “Vivian. What do you think?” Vivian flinched, her eyes darting sideways. “Why are you asking me? I don’t — I don’t know anything about this.” “You’re the operations director. Every client file, every identity verification — it all passes through you. If someone used my name to open a fake account, you’d be the first person to know.” I kept closing the distance. “Last month, you told me the platform needed an annual compliance review — took my original ID and a copy of the business license, and disappeared for an entire day. Where did you actually go?” Vivian went white. “I was turning in documents to the platform! You don’t get to accuse me of things! Selena is the one questioning you — stop dragging me into this!” A few longtime viewers who had been watching quietly started weighing in. “Attorney Marcus: Platform compliance reviews are fully online. There’s no reason to take original documents anywhere in person. Quinn, I strongly recommend calling the police. This looks like identity theft and fraud.” Attorney Marcus was a regular in my stream — a well-known criminal defense lawyer. His words hit the room like a grenade. “WAIT. Plot twist?!” “Best friend steals identity, opens fake account, scams the top donor?! No screenwriter would dare write this.” “If this is real, that best friend is genuinely evil.” Selena looked between me and Vivian, visibly losing the thread. “Quinn, stop performing! You think one little excuse wipes the slate clean?” “If it’s just an excuse, it’s easy enough to test.” I picked up my phone and opened SnapChat. “Selena — the number you just called. It’s linked to Ethan’s PayPal, right?” Selena watched me with guarded eyes. “What are you doing?” “That account ending in 8892 is in ‘Ethan’s’ hands. So right now, in front of millions of people — send one cent to that account.” The corner of my mouth lifted into something cold and sharp. “Put in the note: ‘Ethan — I’m watching the stream. Come find me.’” “Whoever’s phone goes off — that’s your ‘Ethan.’”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “413418”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

Another heavy rain. The company security guard politely handed me an umbrella. “Miss Smith, you’re lucky. Your boyfriend’s here with an umbrella again.” I took it with a bitter smile. The truth was, I had left mine at home on purpose. We were only halfway through rainy season, and my boyfriend had brought me an umbrella twenty times. He had also gone to pick up his childhood sweetheart twenty times. A month ago, on a rainy day just like this one, I slipped and fell. Blood poured from my thigh in an instant. But my boyfriend hesitated. He asked if I could make it to the hospital on my own. Because he had not taken the girl home yet. Our baby was gone. Today I had deliberately told him I forgot my umbrella. The rain was heavy, and the subway had shut down. He replied with a single, flat “okay.” I really thought he would come. Until I saw his social media post. “I told her the rain was too heavy to go out and sketch, but she just had to. Lucky I was quick. Not a single drop landed on her.” I stared at it for a long time. Then I turned around, walked back into the office, and handed in my resignation. The rainy season in this city lasts too long. I am done waiting for someone to hold an umbrella over me.

The wind was fierce. By the time I got home, I was soaked through. The moment I pushed open the door, I saw Ethan grab a blanket and drape it gently over Autumn’s shoulders. “You’re back.” Ethan smiled at me. A perfectly standard, perfectly mechanical smile. Like it was just a step in a routine he had to get through. He went straight to the kitchen, and a few minutes later came back out carrying a bowl of hot soup and some cold medicine. “Here. Take these. Do not let yourself get chilled again.” I stayed standing in the doorway. Everything in front of me felt strangely foreign. When I miscarried, Ethan had only shown up with takeout. He had made a point of telling me he had carefully chosen something nutritious, reminding me to eat well for the next few days. I was in the hospital for seven days. He came once. Ethan said he was not good at taking care of people, so there was no point in him being there. Turns out, he just did not want to take care of me. With Autumn, Ethan was a completely different person. He blew on the soup carefully, cooling it before bringing the spoon to her lips. “It is still hot!” The moment she said it, he tensed up. A second later he tasted it himself. They shared the same spoon. Not a trace of hesitation on his face. How was this possible? Just a few days ago, I had found a coffee I really liked and slid it over to Ethan without thinking. He had immediately looked uncomfortable and wiped the straw with a napkin. He said lipstick was on it. But I had not been wearing any makeup that day. In the room, underneath the two of them laughing together, I could actually hear my own heartbeat. Loud and fast. It took Autumn a while to remember I was there. “Ava, why are you just standing in the doorway? Come eat with us.” Ethan looked a little awkward. He quickly ladled out a bowl for me. Hot soup with oil floating on top, smelling wonderful. But it turned bitter the moment it hit my mouth. This was not something I was meant to enjoy. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Autumn’s gaze darting around. “Ava, please do not read into anything. I just went out looking for some inspiration and ran into Ethan by coincidence.” At that, Ethan chimed in immediately. “Exactly. She just wanted to finish her draft sooner, which would take some of the workload off you too.” Both of them looked at me at the same time. Suddenly my throat felt like something was lodged in it. I could not make a sound. I had heard these words too many times. All twenty of those times before. None of it intentional. All of it coincidence. I genuinely did not know how they could be so certain I would keep believing it. When I did not answer, Autumn reached into her bag and pulled out her manuscript. My rational mind came back a little. Autumn was a bestselling manga artist. I was her editor. Before I quit, it had still been my job. I pushed my tears back down. I forced myself to focus and review her manuscript properly. Her art style was distinct and striking. But the plot always felt scattered. “This part does not work. The two leads just started dating. Why would they be showering together?” “You have to keep it grounded in reality.” Before I had even finished, Autumn frowned. Her expression was completely baffled. “It is realistic.” “Last time in Bali, Ethan scrubbed my back for me.”

For a moment, the air froze completely. Autumn realized she had said too much and quickly covered her mouth. My mind went blank. All the strength drained out of me. The manuscript slipped from my hands and scattered across the floor. I looked over at Ethan instinctively. He bent down and picked up the pages one by one. “This is not a big deal. We have bathed together since we were kids.” “Autumn has claustrophobia. I was just there to keep her company.” Just. Was this really something ordinary to them? Autumn spoke up too. “Exactly. It really was nothing.” “Even if Ethan was standing in front of me completely naked, I would not feel anything.” Ethan’s eyes went wide. He set the manuscript down, then reached over and put his arm around Autumn’s neck. He pretended to be offended. “Oh, is that right? Who was it that wrote in her diary she wanted to marry me when she grew up?” “So what? You said you would marry me too, and now look at you. You have a girlfriend.” As if nothing had happened at all. The two of them started bickering again. They kept talking, but I could not hear any of it anymore. If the Bali shower was real, then the other things in the manga… Traveling to Italy just to eat pizza. Holding each other for warmth while watching the northern lights. And that kiss neither of them could hold back after a rainstorm. All of it, straight from real life. “Ethan, how much have you been lying to me?” My words dropped the temperature in the room instantly. Ethan’s smile froze on his face. He pulled me into a corner and lowered his voice. “I brought you souvenirs from every trip. What more do you want?” “But you told me you were away for work!” I practically shouted it. I knew he had gone to Italy. What I did not know was that he had gone with Autumn. Looking back, Ethan had never lied to Autumn. If he was even a few minutes late to meet her, he would explain and apologize. He was so honest with her that I had thought that was just the kind of person he was. Only now did I understand. His honesty was reserved for Autumn. For me, a few gifts from the airport were enough. Just then, my eyes landed on the snow globe sitting on the shelf. He had told me he picked it out especially for me. I had been happy about it for a long time. But the moment I pictured Autumn standing beside him when he bought it, it was like something reached into my chest and squeezed. It hurt. The tears fell onto the floor. Ethan watched them fall. He seemed thrown off. “Come on. It is not that serious.” “Ava, do not overthink this. You are my girlfriend. Do you not trust me at all?” Then he reached into his pocket and held out a card. “This is the money I have been saving for our wedding. The PIN is your birthday.” I did not respond right away. I stood there staring at the card. I did not even notice when Autumn had moved closer. She looked at the card in my hand and her expression shifted. “Ava, you are not even married yet and you are already going after his finances?” Her tone was dripping with sarcasm, and it snapped me back to reality. But Ethan spoke first. “Enough.” Then he turned to me. “Nothing changes.” “The day after tomorrow, we go register.”

We had planned our registration date a long time ago. I had half expected Ethan to have forgotten. Even standing at the entrance of the marriage registration office, it felt like a dream. My phone buzzed. A message from my boss. “Ava, have you really decided to resign?” My mind was a mess. I had no idea what to say back. The wind was picking up. Before long I was shivering. I pulled my coat tighter and found a spot out of the wind. One hour passed, then another. I watched the wind die down and start up again, but Ethan never appeared. He had lied to me again. When I touched my ice-cold cheek, I felt a sudden urge to laugh. Calls went unanswered. Texts went unread. I walked all the way to the bank, and my phone stayed silent the entire time. At least the cold had cleared my head. I walked inside and checked the account balance. Before I entered the PIN, I still felt a small flicker of hope. Then I saw the number on the screen. Twenty thousand dollars. My chest went cold. Not enough for one of Autumn’s handbags. Ethan had been a senior engineer, then started his own company. It was not that he did not have money. He just was not willing to spend it on me. I stood outside the bank for a long time, then finally sent the message I had typed out. “I have decided. I am resigning.” My boss replied in seconds. “Come in first.” I supposed I had to deal with the paperwork anyway. I dried my tears and headed over. But the moment I stepped into the office, I was hit with a shower of confetti and streamers. “Congratulations, Ava!” My coworkers’ cheers filled my ears from every direction. I stood there completely lost, staring at them. Then someone threw an arm around my shoulder. “Do not hold back, Ava. Just laugh. Let it out.” “The latest issue went viral. The revenue is more than all of ours combined.” A coworker smiled and pushed the numbers in front of me. The figures were so big I had to count the digits twice. The comments had already crossed a million. The most-liked one asked whether the manga was based on real people. Autumn replied: yes. A few minutes later, she posted a video on her social media. “Thank you all for asking. Here is my boyfriend.” “Everything in the manga is just our everyday life.” I stared at the video without blinking. The noise around me seemed to dissolve into static. Because the person standing beside Autumn was Ethan.

When I found them, they were still grinning at their phones. Of course they were. The whole internet was busy envying this perfect fairy-tale couple. Each step I took felt heavier than the last. Ethan spotted me first. He pressed a quick kiss to Autumn’s forehead, then walked over to me fast and grabbed my arm, pulling me outside. “Let me explain.” His voice was calm. Like this was a minor inconvenience that could simply be smoothed over. “Explain? Explain what, exactly?” “My boyfriend chose the day we were supposed to register to go public with another woman. And I am supposed to celebrate that?” I told myself I could hold my ground. But the moment I opened my mouth, the tears came anyway. Seven years together. How did it end up like this? Ethan glanced at me. His brow furrowed immediately. “Why would you not celebrate? You are her editor. You get a bonus out of this too.” “I am just playing the role of her boyfriend temporarily.” Temporarily. Again with temporarily. I had heard that word from him so many times. I was done. “And if the story gets to a wedding and a baby, are you going to help her with that too—” “That is enough!” He cut me off before I could finish. When I looked at him again, he had turned into someone I did not recognize. His face was full of impatience. Like I was the one who had done something wrong. “Ava, when did you get so petty?” “Autumn’s dream since she was a little girl was to be a famous manga artist. I just want to help her make that happen. What is wrong with that?” He pressed a hand to his forehead and started pacing. Then he let out a long breath, like he was making a decision. He turned and looked at me. “Ava, there is something you should know. When you got into that graduate program years ago, I was the one who turned it down on your behalf. Then I introduced you to this company specifically so you would become Autumn’s editor.” “We have come this far. Let us just see it through. Help Autumn reach her dream first.” “After that, we can get back to our own plans. Okay?” Ethan’s voice had gone flat and even. But to me, it hit like a lightning strike out of a clear sky. I could not process what he had said. I almost could not understand the words. Back then, when I thought I had not gotten in, I had cried until I could not breathe. Ethan had held me in his arms and told me gently that there was still so much road ahead. And now he was telling me it was all his doing. So what did that make me? Even my own dream had to give way to Autumn. The memory of that breakdown came flooding back. Standing in front of him, I felt my chest fill with something burning. I raised my hand and slapped him as hard as I could. He did not move. He let me take out everything I had. Until my arm was too heavy to lift and I slid against the wall, crying until I had nothing left. “Feel better?” “Good. Now go back to work. The next issue needs to go out early.”

The company threw a celebration party. I did not go. I bought a bunch of drinks and wanted to drown everything out. I wanted to forget all of it, even just for a night. But I did not get that either. Even in my dreams, Ethan was there. We started with nothing. Sharing a tiny apartment, splitting a single bread roll, wrapped up in one blanket to stay warm. He had cheered me on completely when I wanted to go to grad school. He had sworn he would work hard and earn enough so I could focus on studying without worrying about a thing. Then Autumn came back, and everything changed. Just because they had grown up together? Because she was his childhood friend? But Autumn had gone abroad in high school. The time she had actually spent by his side was only five years. Ethan and I had been together for seven. Time was not the excuse. The truth was simple. Ethan never loved me. I fell into a heavy, painful sleep. And woke up to my phone buzzing. The moment I opened my eyes, I realized I had been crying in my sleep. I wiped my face and stared at the screen. The name trending on social media was mine. There was a photo taken yesterday. Me and Ethan, confronting each other outside the building. “Shameless. Going after someone else’s man in broad daylight.” “She is literally Autumn’s editor. Who knows what she has been doing behind the scenes to sabotage her.” “I just feel for Autumn. She makes the money, and this woman stabs her in the back.” I blinked. Going after someone else’s man. Me? That was almost funny. I was about to head to the office to deal with it, but before I even made it downstairs, I heard shouting outside. A group of angry fans had gathered at the building entrance. “Homewrecker, get down here! You want to steal someone’s man and hide from it?” I sighed. I knew I could not fight a crowd by myself, so I messaged Ethan. “Are not you going to clear this up?” I watched the typing indicator appear, then disappear. Nothing came through. Then a rock came flying through my window and shattered the glass. I rushed over to look and came face to face with the crowd below. “There she is! Get her!” I had no time to move. Objects started hitting me. Rotten eggs. Stones. Broken glass. One piece caught me directly across the cheek. Blood started running down my face, and the panic hit all at once. “Ethan, I am begging you, please. You are the only one who can stop this.” Finally, his message came through. It knocked the last of my hope clean out of me. “Fans have surrounded Autumn’s studio. I need to go get her.” “You will be okay on your own, right?” I was not okay. I woke up in the hospital with a long scar running down my cheek. If the police had not arrived when they did, that crowd might have killed me. I picked up my phone. Seven full days. Not a single message from Ethan. “Are you ready to explain yourself now?” I typed it out, feeling nothing. Ethan replied instantly. “There is nothing to explain right now. The buzz is at its peak and the manga just hit number one.” “Just hang in there a little longer, Ava.” I actually laughed reading that. I had watched Ethan put Autumn first for years. I had been patient long enough. I was done. I changed my flight to the earliest available and did not wait for any follow-up appointments. On the plane, I typed everything out as fast as I could. The second I had a signal, I posted it. If he was not going to clear my name, I would do it myself. An hour later, my phone started going crazy. “Ava, have you lost your mind?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “413417”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

“Just a tool for my pleasure. A kept woman, fine, but Mrs. King? No way.” Those were the words of the man I’d protected with my life for five years. Three years ago, I found him bleeding in an alley, dragging him back from the brink of death. I helped him navigate ruthless corporate battles, pulling him from bankruptcy to the pinnacle of success. When I said I wanted to see the Northern Lights, he chartered a private jet that very night. When I mentioned loving cherry blossoms, he bought and planted an entire mountainside for me. I thought this was love. Until that car hit me, dragging me for hundreds of feet. Then he walked into my hospital room, holding an agreement not to press charges, telling me to sign. “Brittany just got back from overseas; she can’t have this on her record.” Only then did I realize his ex-wife was back. And my existence was nothing more than a used rag, discarded when convenient. I dialed a number I hadn’t touched in years: “Code 0701, Valerie Shaw, requesting activation of the Phoenix Protocol.” They didn’t know I was never just an ordinary bodyguard.

Valerie Shaw POV Everyone in New York was buzzing about how Ethan King, notoriously cold and ruthless, was utterly captivated by his bodyguard, Valerie Shaw. For five years, he was almost obsessed with my body. The back seat of his Maybach, the penthouse club’s restrooms, private jet cabins… Even the dim, empty backstage of the annual company gala bore witness to our encounters. We explored every position, in every conceivable place. Our last time, we spent five days and four nights, going through ten bottles of lubricant. My heart, too, had gradually fallen deeper with each of those countless intimate moments. Until that sports car slammed into me, dragging me for hundreds of feet. Later, from my hospital bed, I overheard Ethan and the traffic cop talking outside my room. “This accident was just a mistake. Brittany just got back, she was nervous and didn’t see her. I’ll handle it; I won’t pursue any charges against her.” Brittany. The name, sharp as a needle, pierced my heart unexpectedly. That was the woman who had abandoned Ethan five years ago without a second thought—Ethan’s ex-wife. She was back?! Before I could even process the information, another slightly teasing male voice chimed in. It was Dr. Alex Stone, Ethan’s private physician and close friend. “Tsk, Mr. King, aren’t you rekindling old flames a bit too fast? You’re already protecting Brittany?” “Don’t tell me you’re still hung up on your ex-wife who dumped you?” A brief silence fell outside the door. A few seconds later, Ethan’s voice resonated again, “Her family forced her hand back then; she had no choice. Now that she’s back, I’ve decided to remarry her.” “Remarry?!” Alex’s voice shot up. “What about Valerie Shaw?” I instinctively clutched the sheets beneath me. Then, I heard the words that would shatter every belief I’d held for the past five years. “Valerie Shaw?” Ethan’s tone was light, dismissive, filled with indifference. “Just a tool for my pleasure. A kept woman, fine, but Mrs. King? No way…” “Given she’s been with me for five years and mostly compliant, if she’s sensible after the remarriage, I wouldn’t mind keeping her around.” A tool for my pleasure… My mind buzzed, a deafening explosion, and I felt all my blood rush backward to my head. Images started flashing before my eyes, uncontrollably. Five years ago, I had just finished dealing with loan sharks, covered in injuries, when I stumbled upon him in an alley—also covered in blood, barely clinging to life. I was the one who literally dragged him back from the edge of death. His first words upon waking were a plea for me to stay. Looking into his pleading eyes, my heart softened, and I finally nodded. In the days that followed, I stood by him as he carved a path through the brutal corporate world. Successfully transforming the crumbling, near-bankrupt King Enterprises into one of New York’s top corporations. Later, he’d charter a private jet to Iceland overnight just because I mentioned wanting to see the Northern Lights. When I said I loved cherry blossoms, he spent a fortune planting an entire mountainside of them for me. He’d even drive across half the city himself late at night just because I casually mentioned craving foie gras. He’d book all the major billboards and digital screens across the city for my birthday. When my mother’s condition worsened, with a single call, he brought in New York’s top specialists and covered all the expenses. I thought I had his unique affection, even fantasizing about marrying him. I never imagined that, in the end, it was all just my wishful thinking. The hospital room door swung open, and footsteps interrupted my reverie. Ethan walked in, holding a document. His gaze swept over my pale face, instinctively avoiding my eyes. He handed me the document, his voice carrying a hint of barely perceptible tension. “Just sign this. Brittany just got back; she can’t have a criminal record. I owe you one for this.” Seeing the agreement not to press charges, I slowly lifted my head, my bloodshot eyes fixed on the man before me. “Ethan,” I said, my voice hoarse and heartbroken, “What am I to you, really?” The mildness on Ethan’s face vanished instantly, replaced by annoyance at being questioned. “You heard?” He raised an eyebrow, then, as if too lazy to pretend, admitted directly, “Yes, it’s exactly as you heard.” “I can grant you any compensation you want, but Brittany didn’t do it on purpose. She’s fragile and easily startled.” His tone was firm, a commanding order, “Valerie Shaw, be good and sign the document.” “What if I don’t?” My voice trembled. Hearing this, he leaned closer to me, “Sign it, and you can stay by my side, just like before.” “Don’t sign, and I have all your dirty secrets. If they get out, I can’t guarantee you’ll walk away unscathed…” I looked at the face of the man I had loved for five years, and suddenly, he seemed utterly unfamiliar. A heart truly dies in an instant. I said nothing more, picked up the pen, and signed my name on the agreement not to press charges. Each letter I wrote felt like a knife carving into my own heart. Ethan picked up the signed document, a satisfied expression returning to his face. He reached out as usual, intending to smooth my stray hairs, as if nothing had just happened.

Valerie Shaw POV But just as his fingertips were about to touch me, I sharply turned my head, dodging his hand. “Don’t trouble yourself, Mr. King!” The words were harsh, but tears of heartache streamed down, uncontrollably. Even when gravely injured before, I would just bite my lip stubbornly, never letting tears fall easily. Ethan almost instinctively reached out to wipe away my tears, but a sudden phone call interrupted his gesture. In the end, he did nothing, turning and hurrying out of the room. The moment the door closed, I suddenly burst into laughter, my laughter echoing jarringly in the empty room. As I laughed, hot tears streamed down, falling in large drops onto my cheeks and hitting the sheets. After a long while, I wiped away my tears, then took out my phone and dialed a long-unused number. When the call connected, I took a deep breath, as if summoning all the strength left in my life, and slowly said: “Code 0701, Valerie Shaw, requesting activation of the Phoenix Protocol.” After Ethan left, he didn’t reappear for three whole days. But every morning, his assistant would bring carefully prepared gifts. On the fourth morning, the hospital room door opened again. When I saw Ethan’s tall, familiar figure, my heart, dormant for days, almost imperceptibly skipped a beat. However, that faint flutter instantly froze into ice when I saw the woman who followed closely behind him. It was her, Brittany Reed! The girl who, in high school, had ganged up on me in the bathroom stall, pouring dirty water on me, laughing and calling me the murderer’s daughter, leaving me speechless for half a year—that bully. Ethan’s ex-wife, Brittany, was that woman! Under the immense shock and fury, my body began to tremble violently, uncontrollably. Brittany released Ethan’s arm and quickly came to my bedside, her face filled with worry and apology. “Miss Shaw, how are you? I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault, I was too careless driving…” Her voice was soft and frail, and she reached out, intending to take my hand. The next second, she leaned closer and whispered, in a voice only we could hear, “Long time no see, murderer’s daughter. Did you miss me?” Murderer’s daughter. The words sharply pierced my eardrums. “Scream, why aren’t you screaming? Didn’t your murderer father teach you how to beg for mercy?!” Brittany’s piercing laugh from years ago instantly replayed in my mind. “Don’t touch me!” Almost instinctively, I used all my strength to violently swat away Brittany’s outstretched hand. Brittany gasped, stumbling backward. Her hand accidentally knocked over the IV stand next to the bed. “Brittany!” Ethan’s face changed instantly. He rushed forward, pulling Brittany protectively into his arms. And the heavy IV stand crashed, squarely and forcefully, onto my chest, which was wrapped in thick bandages. A metallic taste instantly surged into my throat. I felt my vision blacken from the pain and coughed up a mouthful of blood. “Ethan, I didn’t mean to, Miss Shaw…” Brittany buried her face in Ethan’s chest, her voice choked with sobs, trembling. Ethan held her tightly, looking at me with undisguised blame and anger. “Valerie Shaw, what the hell are you doing?!” I wanted to speak, to tell him who this woman was, to tell him what she had done to me. But the searing pain in my chest and the blood clogging my throat allowed me only to emit broken, gurgling sounds, unable to utter a single word. I could only stare desperately at Ethan, hoping he would give me a chance to explain, or at least a flicker of trust in his eyes. But the next second, Ethan picked up the unharmed Brittany, didn’t spare me another glance, and turned to leave the room. Watching their retreating backs, I finally couldn’t hold on, and fainted from the pain. When I woke again, I found myself not in the hospital room, but in a moving car. Two bodyguards in black suits sat beside me, Ethan’s men. “Miss Shaw, Mr. King instructed us to take you back to the villa to recover.” The car soon pulled into the villa I had lived in for five years, a place so familiar it felt like home. As I was helped inside, I stopped abruptly. The living room was filled with another woman’s belongings, and the air was thick with an unfamiliar, sickly sweet perfume. In the kitchen, Ethan was carefully simmering something. I remembered he never used to enter the kitchen. Ethan looked up at the sound, his gaze sweeping past me without a pause. “You’re back just in time. Brittany is delicate and needs someone to look after her. From today on, your duty is to protect her personally.” I followed his gaze. Brittany was gracefully descending the stairs. She walked to Ethan’s side and gave me an innocent, harmless smile: “Won’t this be too much trouble for Miss Shaw? Her injuries aren’t fully healed.” Ethan wrapped an arm around her shoulder, his voice gentle in a way I’d never heard before: “This is what she’s supposed to do.” Then his gaze shifted to me, his eyes holding an undeniable command: “Did you hear me?!” I looked up at the face I had loved and followed for five years, my nails digging deep into my palms. For the first time, I refused him. “I won’t.”

Valerie Shaw POV “What did you say?” He looked up, his deep eyes, for the first time, tinged with clear displeasure at my defiance. I took a deep breath, suppressing the bitterness churning in my chest, and pointed directly at the seemingly innocent woman beside him. “Ethan King, do you know what she once did…” “Valerie Shaw.” Ethan cut me off without ceremony, his voice turning cold. “What I say, goes! Don’t forget your duty as a bodyguard!” Duty. A bodyguard’s duty was unconditional obedience. I had seen what happened to those who disobeyed Ethan’s orders. The rest of my words instantly caught in my throat. I ultimately didn’t refuse again. After all, I didn’t want any more trouble before I left. In the afternoon, Ethan went out on business, leaving only Brittany and me in the villa. I had intended to retreat to my room, trying to avoid contact, but Brittany clearly had no intention of letting me off the hook. She swayed elegantly to the center of the living room, surveying it like her own territory, her gaze sweeping over the furniture and decor. Finally, it rested on the rug Ethan and I had once chosen together. “It’s exactly the same as five years ago, Ethan really hasn’t changed a bit.” I clenched my jaw, offering no response. Brittany didn’t seem to care. She leaned back languidly on the sofa, crossing her legs, and said softly, “I’m thirsty. Get me a glass of water.” I stood my ground, unmoving. Seeing this, Brittany picked up the cup of hot tea a maid had just prepared for her and leisurely walked over to me. “What? Ethan just left, and you’re already disobedient?” Before she finished speaking, she splashed the scalding hot tea directly onto my face and neck. My body reacted faster than my brain. I sharply recoiled half a step. But my still-injured body slowed me down. A large portion of the tea still splashed onto my face and neck, turning my skin red instantly. Brittany chuckled, her eyes filled with malicious glee. She then casually tossed the cup to the floor, extending her foot to tap the ground with her shoe tip. “Now, hurry up and kneel to clean my shoes.” I sharply lifted my head, my hands clenched tight. “Can’t you understand me? Do you really think that just because you slept with Ethan King for a few years, you could become Mrs. King? Have you forgotten your place?” Brittany spoke slowly, her smile venomous. “Or is it that the inherent baseness from your murderer father makes you unable to even comply with basic orders—?” “Slap! Slap!” Before she could finish, two crisp, loud slaps landed hard on her face. Just then, the sound of the front door opening came from the entrance. Ethan immediately saw my reddened hand and the glaring slap marks on Brittany’s face. His voice was cold as ice, “Valerie Shaw, who gave you permission to hit her?!” “She called me the murderer’s daughter!” My voice trembled. Ethan’s eyes narrowed, his gaze lingering for a moment on my scalded neck. Brittany immediately clutched Ethan’s sleeve, tears falling precisely like broken pearls. “Ethan, how could I say such a thing? Knowing what happened to Miss Shaw’s father, I only feel sad for her…” “I just saw her standing there looking tired and wanted to invite her to sit and rest. Perhaps I spoke too quickly, and she misunderstood…” Brittany’s tearful appearance tugged at Ethan’s heart. He turned to me, his voice chilling, “No matter what she said, it wasn’t a reason for you to lay hands on her!” “Besides, Brittany wasn’t wrong about your father.” All my words caught in my throat. Years ago, he was framed, his company on the verge of bankruptcy. Devastated by his divorce from Brittany, he was utterly despondent. To encourage him to get back on his feet, I had revealed my most painful, bloodiest scar to him, begging him not to give up. But now, he was using that very knife, given to him by me, to ruthlessly stab me. My heart ached as if pierced by a thousand needles. I found it hard to breathe. Seeing my instantly pale face and my swaying body, a flicker of almost imperceptible pain crossed Ethan’s eyes. But in the end, he said coldly: “This is the first time, and it will be the last. If I ever see you lay hands on Brittany again, I will not let you off the hook!” With that, he didn’t look at me again, carefully putting his arm around the sobbing Brittany, and turned to leave the room. I stood frozen in place, unmoving. I watched their retreating backs and then suddenly chuckled softly. I realized that when your heart is truly dead, there are no tears left to cry.

Valerie Shaw POV After that day, I stopped resisting, and I stopped holding onto hope. I was like a hollow shell, mechanically carrying out Ethan’s orders, tending to Brittany’s needs. Two days later, Ethan hosted a lavish gala to celebrate Brittany’s return. All of New York’s elite attended, and as Brittany’s bodyguard, I naturally had to be there. But even standing in a corner for the entire evening, I still attracted plenty of whispers. “She actually dared to show up?” “Look at her. She thought she could marry Ethan King, but now his ex-wife is back, and she has to give up her place immediately.” “She’s just a bodyguard, after all…” Odd glances and unpleasant whispers constantly invaded my ears. I kept my eyes slightly lowered, my hands at my sides unconsciously clenching. Throughout the entire auction, if Brittany so much as glanced at a collectible, Ethan would bid without hesitation, buying it at a high price. Until the final item was brought out. When the auctioneer removed the cover, and the giant digital screen behind him simultaneously displayed the photos. The entire hall fell silent instantly, then erupted in uproar. My breath hitched. They were my private photos. Asleep, wrapped in a towel fresh from the shower, a bare back, various dazed moments after sex… All photos he had taken of me over these five years, when I was completely unsuspecting. I snapped my head towards Ethan. His back stiffened almost imperceptibly. Brittany chose that moment to walk onto the stage, took the microphone, and said in a sweet voice, “Everyone, please don’t misunderstand. I gave these photos to the auction house.” “Miss Shaw has protected Ethan for many years and worked incredibly hard. I just wanted to use this opportunity to find her a good husband so she can settle down and start a family, without having to work so hard anymore…” “These photos are meant to show everyone that Miss Shaw, once she sheds her bodyguard identity, is also a lovely and endearing girl. So, let’s start the bidding at one dollar!” One dollar. A single, light sentence, trampling my last shred of dignity into the dirt. The gazes from the audience instantly turned blatant, filled with scrutiny and amusement. Many secretly glanced at Ethan’s reaction. Seeing that he merely wore a grim expression, showing no reaction, their courage grew. “Fifty!” “A hundred!” “Five hundred!” The rising and falling bids, mixed with low chuckles, felt like whips lashing my skin. I stood there, feeling like I was being peeled open inch by inch, displayed for amusement. My strong self-respect wouldn’t allow me to endure this. I abruptly stood up, my voice trembling: “I’ll bid two hundred thousand for all of them!” That was all my available savings. The hall quieted for a moment. However, a slick male voice immediately followed: “One million! Miss Shaw, come with me, I guarantee it’ll be much more comfortable than being a bodyguard!” It was Mr. Henderson, a notorious playboy in social circles. I heard he’d ruined the lives of at least three women. I panicked, instinctively looking at Ethan, who was seated in the VIP section. But he merely watched, expressionless, his gaze so indifferent it showed no flicker of emotion. Finally, the gavel fell. The last string in my heart snapped along with it. After returning from the auction, I completely shut myself off. I didn’t cry or make a fuss. I just clutched my phone day and night, waiting for the call that would take me away.

Valerie Shaw POV Just as I was almost consumed by despair, the call finally came. The agency informed me that everything was ready. I could leave in five days, and my mother would be safely escorted out before then. “Okay, I’ll wait for you to pick me up.” Just as I ended the call, the door to my room was pushed open. Ethan stood in the doorway, his eyes sharp: “Pick you up? Where are you going?” I lowered my gaze, lying, “Mr. King must have misheard. In New York, without your permission, I have nowhere to go.” Ethan stared at me for a few seconds. He still looked suspicious, but he didn’t press further. “I’ve bought back and destroyed those photos from Mr. Henderson at the auction.” His voice was a bit stiff. “Brittany is pure-hearted and sometimes acts without thinking, but her intentions were good. Don’t blame her.” I quietly replied, “Okay.” Ethan paused, surprised. “You’re not angry?” “No.” Ethan’s tone softened even more. “I know you’ve been through a lot these past few days. Actually…” “If you have nothing else, Mr. King, please leave. I need to rest.” I interrupted him. With that, I turned my back to him. I felt Ethan’s gaze on me for a long time. Finally, he placed a box on the table. “For you.” Then he closed the door and left. I opened my eyes, picked up the jewelry box, and threw it directly into the trash can. Over the next few days, I counted down the days until my departure. But what came first was a call from my mother’s primary doctor. “Miss Shaw, your mother’s condition has suddenly worsened. You should come immediately!” My heart dropped. I rushed out of the guest room but was blocked by expressionless bodyguards. The commotion alerted Ethan. “What’s all the fuss about now?” He frowned, looking at me. “My mother is in trouble; please let me go to the hospital.” I said urgently. Ethan looked at me in silence for a few seconds. This was the first time I had let him see me so distraught and helpless. A subtle flicker of hesitation crossed his deep eyes. “Let her go. Send men to follow and keep an eye on her.” Given permission, I bolted out of the villa like a madwoman. I rushed into the hospital room, only to see my mother’s ashen face, her chest heaving violently. Seeing me, tears welled in my mother’s cloudy eyes. Her frail hand gripped mine tightly, her lips trembling as she squeezed out a single sentence. “A woman came… she said… I was holding you back…” A woman? A surge of immense fear and hatred instantly overwhelmed me. I gripped my mother’s hand tightly, my whole body trembling. “Mom, don’t listen to her nonsense… You’re not…” Before I could finish, the monitoring machine suddenly let out a piercing alarm. Doctors rushed in, and I was asked to leave the room. Soon, the emergency room door opened, and I received the news I dreaded most. As I forced my nearly collapsing body into the room, I saw my mother lying peacefully there, as if merely asleep. My chest felt hollow, as if a piece had been ripped out, yet there was no blood left to bleed. I handled my mother’s funeral alone. I didn’t shed a single tear, just quietly signed all the documents, watching as the staff handed me the small wooden urn. Clutching the urn, I walked out of the funeral home and hailed a car.

Valerie Shaw POV The car stopped at the villa gates. Inside, Brittany was casually lounging on the sofa, flipping through a fashion magazine. Hearing the commotion, she looked up. When she saw me and the striking black urn in my arms, a flicker of surprise crossed her face, quickly turning into undisguised mockery. “Well, well, holding someone’s…” “Brittany Reed!” My voice was hoarse and broken. I walked step by step toward Brittany. “The nurse said you visited my mother the day she died. What did you say to her?!” Brittany watched my distraught state, a malicious smile she couldn’t control spreading across her lips. She stood up, took two steps closer, and in a voice only we could hear, whispered: “I just told her that her daughter was as useless as she was, couldn’t keep a man, couldn’t keep her dignity, like a pathetic worm serving as someone’s… Ah!” Before she finished, the next second, I had already raised my hand and delivered a stinging slap across her face. Brittany shrieked, stumbling back into the nearby wine rack, sending expensive bottles crashing to the floor. My eyes were blood red, and I raised my hand to strike again. Almost simultaneously, a figure rushed forward, faster, and shoved me hard to the ground. My spine hit the floor, and my hands and feet were cut by glass shards, making my face turn ashen from pain. But Ethan paid no attention, his eyes filled only with cold fury and accusation. “Valerie Shaw, what are you trying to do now?!” My knuckles turned white as I gripped the floor, gritting my teeth. “She killed my mother; she should pay for her crime!” “Ethan, I didn’t…” Brittany immediately grabbed Ethan’s lapel, her eyes reddened. “You don’t need to explain, I believe you.” Ethan gently cut her off. The next second, his gaze returned to me. “Brittany has always been kind-hearted since she was a child; she wouldn’t even step on an ant. Do you think everyone is like you, with a murderer’s blood in their veins?” Do you think everyone is like you? I looked at his handsome yet utterly unfamiliar face, at Brittany’s victorious gaze from his embrace. Summoning courage from somewhere, I lunged forward and slapped Ethan hard across the face. Ethan’s head snapped to the side from the force of the slap. He turned back, disbelieving, his eyes filled with shock and fury. He was about to speak, but the next second, meeting my bloodshot but hateful eyes, he said nothing. In the end, he simply picked up Brittany. “Out of respect for your mother’s passing, I won’t blame you for this slap. But you’d better pray Brittany is okay.” He then called in the bodyguards: “Keep a close eye on her.” And so, I was confined again. After an unknown amount of time, urgent footsteps sounded outside the door again. Ethan had returned, his face terrifyingly cold. “Brittany’s wrist was almost fractured. She might not be able to play the piano again. She’s been crying, saying it hurts terribly.” I showed no reaction, simply holding the urn tightly in my arms. Ethan grew even more enraged at my demeanor. He stepped forward, snatched the urn from my arms, and casually tossed it to a nearby bodyguard. My pupils constricted. Just as I was about to lunge to retrieve it, the bodyguards slammed me to the ground. “Ethan King! What are you doing? Give me back my mother!” Ethan’s eyes showed no flicker of emotion. He took out his phone, dialed a number, and put it on speaker.

Valerie Shaw POV The call was quickly answered, and Brittany’s fragile, somewhat aggrieved voice came through: “Ethan?” “Brittany,” Ethan’s tone was deliberately soft, “Does it still hurt?” “Mm… it hurts.” Brittany’s voice, thick with tears, reached me. “Don’t be scared,” his voice was chillingly gentle, “I’ll make her apologize to you right now.” Before he finished speaking, he gave a look to the bodyguard. One bodyguard pinned my right arm, the other grabbed my wrist, and with a sudden, forceful twist in the opposite direction. “Snap!” The crisp, sharp sound of bone fracturing echoed loudly in the empty basement. “Ah!” My body shuddered violently. I screamed, then passed out from the excruciating pain. When I regained consciousness, I was in a guest room, on a hospital bed. Dr. Alex Stone, who came to reset and cast my bone, trembled violently, his eyes bloodshot. “How could he…” But I was eerily calm, as if the pain didn’t belong to me. I just quietly gazed out the window at the gray sky, waiting for an opportunity to leave. Fortunately, that opportunity was soon handed to me by Brittany herself. Two days later, in the afternoon, Brittany disappeared. Ethan mobilized all his resources, searching the entire city, but found nothing. A day later, an extremely degrading video began circulating on the dark web. In the video, a dozen dirty homeless men were assaulting a woman who bore a striking resemblance to Brittany. The video production was crude, but Ethan, frantic with worry, didn’t notice any anomalies. He didn’t even wait for his assistant to fully investigate before ordering me to be taken to an abandoned building. “Tell me! Where did you hide Brittany?!” He grabbed my neck, his grip so powerful I instantly gasped for air. “To use such despicable methods, I never knew you were so malicious!” My face was turning blue from his grip. I struggled to squeeze out the words: “I don’t know…” “Still playing dumb!” He abruptly released me. “Besides you, who else would harbor such deep hatred for Brittany?!” “Since you won’t speak, don’t blame me for being ruthless!” He stepped back and waved at a bodyguard. The next second, a saltwater-soaked leather whip slashed brutally across my thin back. “Crack!” A red welt immediately bloomed on my pale skin. I trembled from the pain, but bit down hard on my lower lip, refusing to make a sound. “Continue!” The bodyguard raised the whip again. One lash, then another. After an unknown amount of time, the whipping finally stopped. Ethan knelt, grasping my chin. “I want you to pay double for what Brittany went through!” “Bring those homeless men in!” he commanded sternly toward the door. My unfocused pupils suddenly constricted. “Ethan King, you can’t do this to me! You’ll regret it!” Ethan’s turning motion paused briefly. A flicker of emotion seemed to flash in his eyes, but it was quickly covered by anxiety and fury. “You forced my hand!” Leaving those words, he left without looking back. Soon after, hurried footsteps, mingled with crude language and lewd laughter, approached from nearby. I tried to struggle to my feet, but my injuries made it impossible to move. I could only watch helplessly as those foul-smelling, lecherous homeless men walked towards me. One of them banged a grin, his voice vile: “Today, I’ll bring you pleasure…” As he spoke, he reached out his dirty hand, about to tear at my clothes. My stomach churned. Just as his fingertips were about to touch my collar. With the last vestiges of my strength, I lunged upward from the floor, crashing through the nearby window, and threw myself down.

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“Miss Smith, our records show that you are unmarried.” The clerk turned the screen toward me. “The spouse field on Mr. Carter Gordon’s profile is registered to another woman.” I stared at the familiar name on the screen. Mandy Lynn, the secretary he had kept close for two years. Everyone said Carter Gordon loved me to his core. But it turned out the woman he called his “wife” was someone else entirely. And I had spent five years as the punchline of a joke I never knew was being told. I dialed a number. “Help me erase my identity. The sooner, the better.” Since he had given someone else the title, there was no reason for Tara to exist anymore. Tara’s POV In the fifth year of my relationship with Carter Gordon, my visa hit a snag. Several international preschools in New York were organizing a joint six-month exchange program in Canada next month. As the lead teacher on the trip, I had taken a half day off to visit the immigration office and update my documentation. The clerk tapped at her keyboard, frowning slightly, checking the information on her screen several times before finally looking up at me. “Miss Tara Smith, your marital status doesn’t match what you filled in. The system shows you as currently unmarried.” I blinked, then gave a gentle smile. “Could there be a mistake? My husband and I registered here in New York three years ago. We even paid for expedited processing.” The clerk turned the screen toward me and pointed to a line of text. “Our system syncs in real time. It doesn’t make errors. You are registered as unmarried. However, the spouse field on Mr. Gordon’s profile is registered to another woman.” A name was printed clearly on the screen: Mandy Lynn. A sharp ringing filled my ears. The sounds around me fell away, leaving nothing but a high-pitched hum. Mandy Lynn. I knew that name far too well. During the two years I had been in San Francisco completing my early childhood education certification, she had been the secretary Gordon kept at his side. His explanation at the time was that the pressure of work had grown too heavy. He needed a capable assistant to handle the smaller things. That was all. I have no memory of walking out of the immigration office. The early autumn air hit me like a wall of cold. I clutched the rejected paperwork in both hands and sank numbly into the driver’s seat of my car. My phone screen lit up. A message from Gordon popped onto the display. “Sweetie, it’s getting cold in New York today. Make sure you bundle up. I pushed back the afternoon conference call and went to stand in line at that bakery you love. I picked up the chestnut cake. Come home early tonight, okay? I want to spend the evening with you.” I stared at those words until my eyes burned. Not a single tear came. Five years. Gordon’s devotion to me was known all across New York. Once, I said offhand that I loved the ocean. He bought a private island off the coast of Los Angeles and built a lighthouse on it, naming it after me. When I mentioned feeling sorry for the preschool children having to play outside in the cold, he wrote a check for a fully climate-controlled indoor children’s center, built right in the heart of the city where land costs a fortune. I was afraid of the dark, so every night he turned down every invitation and every dinner, staying in to hold my hand and talk me to sleep. Everyone said Gordon loved me down to the bone. But it turned out, buried inside that love was a lie this big. I pulled in a slow breath, forced down the nausea rising in my stomach, and drove back to the house. I pushed open the front door and heard voices in the living room. Gordon and his friend Oliver were talking. “You skipped out of the office again to go buy cake?” Oliver teased. Something envious hid beneath the humor. “Mandy, your whole devoted-husband thing never lets up, does it?” Gordon stretched out on the sofa, legs crossed, voice lazy with amusement. “She deserves to be spoiled. She should always feel like the most treasured person in the world.” “Fair enough.” Oliver dropped the teasing and lowered his voice. “But what are you doing about Mandy? If Tara ever finds out, you know her. She’ll walk.” I stood in the shadow of the doorway and stopped breathing. Every drop of blood in my body seemed to freeze. Gordon turned his lighter over in his fingers. The faint metallic click filled the silence. His voice was perfectly casual. “She’s not going to find out.” “But what if she does?” “Mandy and I have been together two years. She has severe depression. She can’t function without me.” Gordon’s tone was calm in a way that was frightening. “Marrying her is the only security I can give her.” “Tara has all of my love. She has the status, the respect, everything that comes with being with me. Mandy has to stay hidden. I use the marriage to keep her stable. It’s not a big deal.” Oliver let out a long breath. “What you’re doing is dangerous. Who do you actually love?” “Tara, obviously.” No hesitation. “But Mandy… I can’t let go of her either.” I pressed my back against the cold wall. The pain was so sharp it reached into my lungs. He had never wanted to choose. He wanted both. He had used me as the window display, the proof of how deeply he could love, while keeping Mandy tucked away inside his real life. I turned and left the house without making a sound. I didn’t storm inside. I didn’t scream or cry or demand answers. The pain was so absolute it had turned my mind perfectly clear. If he was so certain I would never find out, then I would make sure he could never find me again. I took out my phone and dialed an encrypted number. “I need to erase my identity. As quickly as possible.”

Tara’s POV Erasing my identity would take two weeks. I sat in the car for a long time, waiting until the feeling inside me had gone completely quiet. Then I walked back through the front door of the house. Gordon was in the kitchen, apron tied around his waist, moving between the counter and the stove. He heard me come in and carried out the tray of chestnut cake he had just pulled from the oven. His eyes were warm enough to drown in. “You’re back. Go wash your hands. Come try this. I learned a new recipe.” I looked at his face. That handsome, familiar face. It felt absurd now. I forced the nausea back down and kept my voice flat. “I’m exhausted from work today. I’m not hungry.” Gordon stepped forward and pulled me into him, resting his chin at the curve of my neck. “What’s going on? Did the kids at school give you a hard time again? I’ll have my assistant send over some new toys tomorrow to cheer them up.” He always knew exactly how to take care of me. If I hadn’t heard those words with my own ears, I would have gone on believing I was the luckiest woman alive. “Don’t bother.” I pulled away, my voice distant. He blinked and started to say something. Then his phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at the screen. Something shifted in his expression. He picked up the call quickly. “I’ll be right there.” He hung up and looked at me with an apologetic expression. “Sweetie, something’s come up at work. I have to handle it. Don’t wait up for me, okay? Eat something.” I watched his back disappear through the door. I picked up my keys and followed him. His car didn’t go to the office. It stopped in front of one of the most exclusive private residences in the city. I followed him all the way to the top floor. Through the gap in the barely-closed door came the muffled sound of a woman crying. “Gordon, I’m so scared. Every time I close my eyes, I feel like you’re going to leave me.” Mandy was curled into the corner of the sofa, face pale, fragile. Gordon dropped to one knee in front of her and pulled her tightly against him. His voice carried a patience I had never once heard him offer me. “Don’t be scared. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” “But Tara…” “Don’t bring her up.” He reached into his jacket pocket and produced a small velvet box. “Look what I brought you.” Inside the box was a custom star-dial watch. I went cold where I stood outside that door. That watch. I had spent the better part of six months on it. I had drawn the design myself, sourced the craftsman myself, and had it built from scratch as a birthday gift for Gordon next month. A few days ago I had noticed it was gone, and he had told me, soothingly, that one of the housekeeping staff had probably moved it somewhere by mistake. He had taken it to give to another woman. “It’s so beautiful…” Mandy’s tears dissolved into a smile. “Is this for me?” “Of course.” He fastened it around her wrist himself. “As long as you sleep well tonight, you can have anything you want.” I turned and walked away. Moving through the noise of the street outside, all I felt was a hollow kind of absurdity. Everything I had once guarded as precious, he had handed over as a prop to soothe someone else. At ten o’clock that night, Gordon sent a message. “Working through the night at the office. Get some rest. Good night.” I read it, turned the phone off, and dropped it in the drawer. The days that followed, I went to work as usual. I poured everything I had into the children. Looking at their open, uncomplicated faces was the only thing that made the dull ache in my chest go quiet for a little while. On the weekend, Gordon surprised me with a gesture meant to make up for lost time. He rented out the city’s most prominent arts center and threw a lavish gallery exhibition filled entirely with my casual sketches and doodles. “He really is something else, treating his wife’s little drawings like fine art.” “That’s real love. Everyone in this city knows how much he adores her.” I stood among the murmuring guests, champagne glass in hand, smiling at nothing. Then a familiar figure crossed the entrance of the gallery. Mandy had arrived in a couture gown, moving between the guests with easy confidence in her official capacity as director of the exhibition. I set my glass down and headed toward the restroom. I had just rounded the corner when I heard voices drifting through the gap in the door of a side room.

Tara’s POV “You look stunning tonight.” Gordon’s voice was low, rough, stripped of any pretense. “Stop it. There are people right outside.” Mandy laughed and pushed him back. “What if Tara sees us?” “So what if she does?” He let out a quiet laugh and pressed her against the door. “She’s just a sweet little preschool teacher. What does she know about any of this? This whole gallery night is just a toy to keep her happy. You’re the one who stands beside me when it actually counts.” The sound of fabric shifting in the silence of the corridor felt unbearably loud. I stood outside that door, my nails cutting into my palms, leaving marks in the skin. A sweet little preschool teacher. So that was all I was to him. My work, the things I loved, the person I was. Nothing more than a pet he kept around for amusement. I breathed in slowly, turned away from the door, and walked back into the gallery. The closing event of the evening was a charity auction. The final item was a painting called Starry Night, made by one of my students, a little boy on the autism spectrum. He had worked on it for a full month. I had been planning to buy it myself and give it back to him as a gift, a way of telling him how proud I was. Opening bid: a hundred thousand dollars. I raised my paddle. “Five hundred thousand.” The moment the words left my mouth, a clear voice rang out from the front row. “One million.” I turned. The paddle belonged to Mandy. She looked back at me over her shoulder, a small, deliberate smile on her face. I kept my expression neutral and raised my paddle again. “Two million.” “Three million.” Mandy didn’t flinch. The room had begun to murmur. The atmosphere shifted into something uneasy. I was about to raise my paddle again when a warm hand closed around my wrist. Gordon had reappeared at my side. He leaned in close and spoke quietly. “Let it go, sweetheart. It’s just a kid’s drawing. It’s not worth this.” I looked at him steadily. “It’s my student’s painting. It means a great deal to me.” I pulled my wrist free and started to lift the paddle. Gordon reached past me and signaled the auctioneer directly. “Three million. Put it on my account.” The room erupted. In front of everyone in attendance, he had outbid his own partner on a painting she wanted, and handed it to another woman. Mandy walked to the stage, accepted the painting, and smiled with complete satisfaction. “Thank you for your generosity. I’ll hang it in my office, a daily reminder of the importance of giving back.” I sat in the audience and watched the two of them on that stage. My stomach turned. Gordon looked back at me. His voice was gentle but carried an edge that left no room for argument. “Mandy’s been running a charity campaign that needed a centerpiece. That painting is perfect for it. If you want something like that, I’ll have the boy paint ten more for you tomorrow.” I looked at the complete reasonableness on his face and let out a small laugh. “Sure.” I didn’t argue. I gave him a quiet smile instead. After the auction ended, Gordon reached for my hand. I moved away before he could take it. “I’m tired. I want to head home.” I walked to my car without looking back. The following morning, the preschool’s official social media account was flooded with hostile comments and coordinated attacks. Mandy had posted a photo of Starry Night on Instagram with the caption: “Sometimes what looks like generosity is really just a performance. Some people will compete with those who are genuinely doing good just to keep up appearances.” The replies were vicious, calling me manipulative, a bully hiding behind a charitable image. Some users had dug up the school’s address and were threatening to show up in person. Our director was beside herself, begging me to find a way to make it stop. I called Gordon. “Have you seen what’s happening online?” I asked, keeping my voice level. He sounded drained on the other end. “Tara, she just posted something on a whim. She wasn’t targeting you. People are reading too much into it.” “So what do you think I should do?” “Post a statement on the school account. Apologize. Say it was a misunderstanding at the auction. I’ll get the content taken down.” The anger that hit me was almost funny. “You want me to apologize?”

Tara’s POV “Tara, don’t be difficult.” His tone shifted, taking on that particular weight he used when he expected compliance. “The story is spreading fast. If you don’t get ahead of it now, the school is going to take real damage. I’ve already talked to Mandy. She’s deleted the post. All you have to do is take the high road, and this goes away.” He made it sound so simple. To protect whatever was left of Mandy’s feelings, he was asking the person who had been wronged to bow her head to the person who had done the wronging. My knuckles went white around the phone, but my voice stayed even. “And if I don’t?” “Tara.” He exhaled, and something cold threaded through his words. “The fire safety inspections at the school have been non-compliant for a while now. I’d hate to see the place get shut down over it.” My breath stopped. He was threatening me. Using the school I had put everything into. Using children who had done nothing wrong. Using them to force me to surrender. “You’re disgusting,” I said. Then I hung up. Thirty minutes later, fire inspectors arrived at the school. They cited ongoing safety violations and issued a mandatory three-day closure notice. I stood in the doorway and watched the children leave in their backpacks, their parents collecting them with expressions ranging from confused to outraged. My chest felt like something inside it was being cut apart. I stood alone in the empty classroom, looking at the drawings the children had taped to the walls, all those small, joyful faces, and made the call. “I’ll apologize.” That afternoon, I posted a statement on the school’s account. I acknowledged that my emotions had gotten the better of me at the auction and expressed regret for any distress I had caused Ms. Lynn. The backlash dissolved almost immediately. That evening, Gordon came home. He walked in carrying a glossy shopping bag, stopped in front of me, and spoke in the soothing voice he used when he thought he was fixing things. “You had a rough day. This is for you, the pink diamond necklace you mentioned a while back. I had it flown in from overseas.” I looked at the necklace glittering against the velvet. I didn’t even blink. “Just set it down.” Gordon frowned slightly. He could feel the distance in me. He pulled me into his arms with careful patience. “Still upset? I was protecting you and the school. I’ve already made it very clear to Mandy that this kind of thing is not acceptable. She won’t cause trouble for you again.” I let him hold me. My body was rigid as a plank of wood. “Gordon,” I said quietly. “Do you love me?” He pressed his lips to my forehead without a moment’s hesitation. “Of course I do. You’re the only one.” I closed my eyes to hide what was behind them. The only one. He loved me so completely that he had built our entire relationship on a lie. He had taken what I made with my own hands and used it to comfort another woman. He had leveraged the thing I cared most about to make me swallow every humiliation without a word. His love was cheap and terrifying in equal measure. A few days later, Mandy hosted a private party on her yacht and invited a large portion of New York’s social circle. I had no interest in going, but Gordon insisted, claiming the sea air would do me good. On the deck, Mandy was at the center of everything in a white bikini, surrounded by guests. When she spotted me, she drifted over with a glass of champagne, her smile perfectly innocent. “Tara, I feel terrible about everything that happened. Let’s drink to a fresh start.” I met her gaze without warmth. “I’ll pass. I have a sensitivity to alcohol.” Mandy’s smile flickered. Something calculated moved behind her eyes. Then her ankle gave way. She lurched sideways and went straight over the railing. “Ah!” The scream split the air. Mandy hit the water. The deck erupted into chaos. “Someone’s in the water!” “Tara pushed her. I saw it! I was standing right there!” Mandy’s friend was already pointing at me, voice loud enough for everyone to hear. I hadn’t had time to react before a shape shot past me and went over the side without hesitation. Gordon. He reached Mandy in the water, got his arm under her, and held her up until they were pulled back onto the deck. She was shaking with cold and had both arms locked around his neck. Gordon draped his jacket over her shoulders and turned to look at me. His eyes were ice.

Tara’s POV “Tara, you’ve let me down.” His voice carried over the sound of the wind off the water, stripped of anything warm. I stood where I was. The wind was pulling at my hair. I watched him cradle Mandy with the kind of careful attention he had never once reserved for a moment when I was the one who needed it. The whole scene felt unreal. “I didn’t push her.” I kept my voice level. I wasn’t defending myself. I was simply stating a fact. “With this many witnesses, you’re still going to deny it?” He got to his feet and came toward me, each step deliberate. “I thought you were just being difficult. I never imagined you were actually capable of something like this. Mandy can’t swim. You could have killed her.” The voices of the people around us crested and broke. Every word was another piece of the verdict. I looked at the man who claimed to love me and felt like I was looking at a stranger. He didn’t check the camera footage. He didn’t ask what happened. He didn’t give me a single moment to explain. He had already decided. “If you’re so sure I did it, then call the police.” I didn’t look away from him. That caught him off guard. Mandy reached out from where she lay and caught the hem of his pants. “Don’t, Gordon. Please. The last thing you need is your name in the papers over something like this. I’m fine. If it makes Tara feel better, I don’t mind. I can take it.” Those words did exactly what they were designed to do. The way he looked at Mandy then, it was all tenderness. The way he looked back at me, nothing but contempt. “Starting today, you stay home.” His voice was flat and final. “You don’t go anywhere until you’re ready to admit what you did.” I was taken back to the house by his security detail. My phone was confiscated. The internet was cut. The front door was locked from the outside. I had been placed under house arrest. For the next two weeks, Gordon didn’t come back once. I sat by the floor-to-ceiling window each day and watched the light change. I felt strangely calm. When hope has been ground down to nothing, what’s left is a kind of stillness. Then, two weeks later, the front door opened. Gordon walked in. Mandy was with him. Color had returned to her face. She was even more beautiful than before. She came in on Gordon’s arm, scanning the rooms with the ease of someone deciding what renovations to make. “I don’t really like the way this place is decorated,” Mandy said, her voice soft with complaint. “It’s not really my style.” Gordon flicked her nose affectionately. “I’ll have someone redo it however you like tomorrow.” I sat on the sofa and watched the two of them without expression. Gordon crossed the room and stood over me. “Have you had time to think about what you did?” I looked up. “What exactly did I do?” “Apologize to Mandy.” There was no flexibility in his tone. “Do that, and I’ll forgive you. We can go back to how things were.” I almost laughed. The tears nearly came with it. He had locked me in this house for two weeks. He had walked in with another woman as though this were already her home. And now he was standing there, offering to forgive me. “Gordon,” I said, “do you actually believe I can’t survive without you?” He frowned. “Can you stop acting like a child? Mandy still isn’t fully recovered. Her doctor said she needs rest. She’ll be staying here for a while, and you’ll be looking after her. Think of it as making things right.”

Tara’s POV He wanted his wife to wait on his mistress. He said it like it was the most reasonable thing in the world. I stood up slowly. “Okay.” My voice was quiet. Gordon exhaled. He probably took it as surrender. For the next few days, I played the part. I cooked three meals a day on schedule. I kept the house running without complaint. Mandy found every opportunity to make it harder. “This soup is over-seasoned. Did you do that on purpose?” “These shirts aren’t properly ironed. Can you not manage even the simplest things?” Every time Mandy found fault, Gordon turned it back on me without hesitation. I didn’t argue. I just redid whatever needed redoing and said nothing. Because I was almost out of time. The progress on my identity erasure had reached ninety-nine percent. Three days left. That night, a heavy rain moved in over the city. Mandy was watching television in the living room when she suddenly clutched her chest and cried out. “Gordon, I can’t breathe. It hurts.” Gordon came running out of the study, face drained of color. He scooped her up. “Hang on. I’m taking you to the hospital right now.” He moved fast toward the door. As he passed me, he threw back one cold sentence. “If anything happens to her, you’ll answer for it.” The door slammed. The house went silent. I stood there and listened to the rain, and let the corner of my mouth curl. Gordon didn’t come home the next day. Or the day after. Then Oliver called. “Tara, get to St. John’s Hospital. Gordon ran a red light picking up Mandy’s prescription. He’s in emergency now.” I held the phone and said nothing for a long moment. “He’s not going to die.” My voice was the same tone I would use to comment on the weather. Oliver went silent. Then he came back sharp with anger. “Are you serious right now? He has always been there for you. He is in the ER and that’s what you have to say?” “Really?” I let out a quiet sound. “Whose name is in that spouse field again?” The line went dead. I hung up. I walked to the bedroom and pulled out a small overnight bag from the closet. Inside were a few changes of clothes, my passport, and my visa. Everything Gordon had ever given me, the jewelry, the designer bags, the couture, I left it all where it sat. I went to the vanity and pulled open the top drawer. Inside was the marriage certificate I had kept for three years, folded carefully, as if it had ever meant anything. I found a pair of scissors and cut it in half. One half I left on the vanity. The other half went into the trash. I took out my phone, opened the browser, and went to the identity erasure portal. I pressed the button. Confirmed. Your identity has been successfully deleted. When those words appeared on the screen, I breathed out, slowly and completely, for the first time in what felt like years. From this moment on, Tara no longer existed anywhere in this world. I picked up my bag, walked to the front door, and stopped. The rain had stopped while I wasn’t paying attention. The air outside carried the smell of wet earth and something clean. I looked back one last time at the place that had held me captive for five years. I felt nothing. I pushed the door open and walked out.

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Ethan forgot our wedding anniversary for the fifth time. At two in the morning, he pushed open the door. He reeked of alcohol and someone else’s perfume, his voice buzzing with excitement. “Sophia’s getting divorced! This is my chance!” I stood there, the wound on my left shoulder still throbbing quietly where the sixteen stitches held it together. I had taken that knife for him three days ago. He still didn’t know. “Ethan,” I said softly, “let’s get divorced.” He paused, then laughed. “Sure! Even after the divorce, you’ll still be my best friend. Oh, and come help me pick out an engagement ring tomorrow. Your fingers are about the same size as hers. Try it on for me.” I stared at that completely unbothered face of his and suddenly felt that these twenty-two years of loving him in silence had been nothing but a joke I had played on myself. I slipped the plain silver band off my finger and set it on the table. That ring had cost me next to nothing. I had worn it for five years. Now, at last, it didn’t have to lie for anyone anymore.

Jamie’s POV Two in the morning. Ethan pushed open the door. I was sitting beside the floor lamp in the living room, a book open on my lap, no pages turned. Today was the fifth anniversary of my marriage to Ethan Foster. It was also the fifth year he had completely forgotten. Ethan smelled of alcohol. When his beautiful eyes landed on me, they curved into a smile. “Jamie! I knew you’d still be up.” He walked over, looped his long arm around my neck, and half-collapsed against me, bringing with him a cloud of sweet, unmistakably feminine perfume. “Come on, make me some honey water. My head’s killing me.” My heart ached so badly I could barely breathe, but I just pushed him off with a tired look. “Ethan, you’re almost thirty, not three. Would it kill you to drink less?” “I was celebrating.” Ethan threw himself onto the couch, his long legs propped up on the coffee table without a care in the world, his grin bright enough to hurt. “Jamie, she’s back.” My hand stilled on the glass I was pouring. I didn’t need to ask who she was. There was only one person who could make Ethan Foster look that stupidly, helplessly happy. Sophia Whitfield. “Congratulations.” I kept my back to him, my voice frighteningly calm. Ethan took a few gulps of the honey water and grabbed my wrist, buzzing with excitement. “She’s divorced. Her ex treated her badly. She’s been through so much. Jamie, this is my chance!” I looked at this man I had loved for twenty-two years straight. From the time I was five until now, at twenty-seven, I had grown up alongside Ethan. I had stood by him through fights, skipped class with him, and watched him chase after Sophia. And when he blew up his relationship with his entire family over her and hit rock bottom, I had stayed. Right there beside him. His family, desperate to make him move on, started looking for a suitable match for him within their circle. Ethan decided it didn’t matter who he married. He even told his father: “As long as it’s not Sophia, it’s all the same to me.” I was the one who stepped forward. I said, “If it’s all the same to you, then marry me, Ethan. A fake marriage. When you’re free of your family, or when she comes back, I’ll give you a divorce whenever you want.” Back then, Ethan had held me and sobbed. “Jamie, you’re the best person in my whole life. I promise you, you’ll always have a place in this family. Nobody will ever make you feel like you don’t belong.” He kept that promise. For five years, he gave me every privilege and protection. He trusted me more than anyone. The safe combination, the company’s most sensitive secrets, even his personal seal. He held nothing back. He was good to me, except for one thing. He didn’t love me. “Since she’s back, let’s get divorced.” Ethan blinked. “Already?” “She’s back. It’s time for me to step aside.” I stood up, my downcast lashes hiding everything behind my eyes. “I’ll contact a lawyer and have the divorce papers drawn up as soon as possible. I’ll pack my things and be out of here quickly.” Ethan studied my unnervingly calm expression and hesitated. “Jamie, I’m not going to shortchange you on the settlement. The penthouse in Manhattan, plus one percent of Foster Group’s shares.” One percent of Foster Group. Worth hundreds of millions. He was, as always, generous. “And don’t move too far after the divorce. The house in Beverly Hills is yours too. It’s close by. We’ll still be best friends. Whatever you need, just say the word. I promised I’d look out for you for the rest of your life.” I looked down at the plain silver band on my ring finger. We’d bought it at a roadside jewelry stand on the day we filed the paperwork. Ethan had tossed it to me casually and said, “If we’re going to put on a show, we need the right props. Just wear it.” That cheap silver ring, I had worn it for five years without ever taking it off. I had worn it so long it left a faint mark on my finger. Best friends? What I felt for him had never been friendship. I slowly slid the ring off and set it on the table. It made a small, quiet sound. “You don’t have to do that.” My voice came out a little rough. “Ethan, I just want you to be happy.” “What’s with the formality?” Ethan frowned. “You’ll need money when you get married someday…” He suddenly laughed, like he’d just thought of something funny. “Actually, I almost forget sometimes that you’re a woman. God help whoever falls for you.” Something rose in my throat, sharp and metallic. I forced it back down. “Ethan.” I called his full name, my eyes stinging just slightly. “Yeah?” He was already looking down at his phone, texting Sophia, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth, not even glancing up. “…I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” The words I have loved you for twenty-two years rotted silently in my chest. “Wait, Jamie.” I stopped. And somewhere deep and humiliating, a tiny flicker of hope lit up. Had he remembered? That today was our anniversary? That I had spent five years never leaving his side? “There’s a charity gala tomorrow night. Come with me.”

Jamie’s POV “I’m not going.” If we were getting divorced, I had no business showing up at public events anymore. I wasn’t going to lay the groundwork for Sophia. I wasn’t going to become the laughingstock of the whole city. “You have to.” Ethan dropped the warmth from his voice, his expression matter-of-fact. “Sophia just got back. Her situation is delicate. If you’re there, nobody will dare say anything.” “You need to show up as my wife and make it clear she’s welcome. That way, when we get together, there’ll be less pushback.” He wanted me to appear as his wife. To publicly embrace his first love. To personally pave the road for their true romance. How could a person be this cruel without even knowing it? And yet Ethan looked completely at ease, as if his request was perfectly reasonable. “Does it really have to be this way?” I looked up at him. My eyes were threaded with red. Ethan paused. He seemed caught off guard by how worn out I looked, though he chalked it up to work stress. He softened his tone and slipped into the easy, coaxing voice he always used when he wanted something. “Jamie, please. Just this once, the last time. You know Sophia. She’s sensitive. The smallest thing can hurt her.” “Do this one last thing for me. Okay?” Okay? For twenty-two years, every time he asked me something that way, I had never once said no. I closed my eyes. Swallowed the bitterness. “Fine. The last time.” Ethan exhaled like a weight had lifted. “Thanks, Jamie. Having you in my life is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He hummed cheerfully to himself as he headed upstairs. I stood in the middle of the living room, staring at the abandoned ring on the table. It seemed to stare back, coldly mocking five years of everything I had felt. That night, I dreamed. There was no Sophia in the dream. Just sophomore year of college. Ethan had twisted his ankle during a basketball game, and I had carried him on my back for nearly two miles in the midday heat to get to the campus health center. Sweat ran down my neck and soaked into my collar. Ethan lay sprawled across my back, talking the whole way. In the dream, he asked: “Jamie, am I too heavy?” Dream-me said nothing. Just clenched my jaw and kept walking, one step at a time. The charity gala was spectacular. I wore a black velvet blazer. When I walked in on Ethan’s arm, flashbulbs erupted around us. “Mr. and Mrs. Foster are such a perfect couple, still so devoted after all these years.” “Absolutely. Jamie has been the backbone of Foster Group. So much of what the company has achieved is because of her.” Compliments closed in from all sides. Ethan smiled his polished public smile and leaned down to murmur in my ear. “See? Everyone says we’re perfect together. I keep telling you, I can’t do any of this without you.” I said nothing. My gaze drifted through the crowd and settled on a figure tucked into the far corner of the ballroom. Sophia Whitfield stood in a white chiffon gown, her hair loose over her shoulders, like a small, trembling flower. The moment Ethan’s eyes found her, nothing else existed. He steered me toward her without hesitation. “Ethan…” Sophia looked up at him, and her eyes immediately filled with tears. “Don’t cry. I’m here.” He reached for her, and I blocked him, smoothly, almost invisibly. “Ethan. Not here.” My voice was quiet and precise. He stiffened slightly, then recovered. “Sophia, you remember Jamie. You used to be terrified of her when we were kids.” Sophia shrank a little behind him. “Hi, Jamie. Thank you for taking care of Ethan all these years.” “No need to thank me. It was mutually beneficial.” My tone was flat. A cluster of men drifted over with their drinks, led by a man named Derek. His gaze slid over Sophia with barely concealed interest before landing on me with a smirk. “Jamie! Love the suit. Didn’t know Ethan brought a bodyguard tonight.” Laughter rippled through the group. Ethan’s jaw tightened for a fraction of a second, then he punched Derek in the arm with a grin. “Knock it off. Don’t give her a hard time. Jamie’s got more presence in her little finger than any of you clowns.” It was the kind of defense that sounded more like a joke between friends. It dressed me in armor and, in the same breath, stripped away everything soft about me. Derek dropped his voice, leering at Ethan. “Come on, man, it’s gotta be rough, right? A woman should be soft, like Sophia. Something you can actually hold. Jamie’s all sharp edges. You afraid she’ll poke you?” The words were designed to humiliate. I tightened my grip on my glass and watched Ethan. Waiting. I was his wife. Whatever our marriage was in private, in public he was supposed to protect my dignity. That was the bare minimum. Ethan glanced at me. My face was unreadable, my posture straight. Maybe he was too used to me being “strong.” Maybe he was worried about what Sophia might read into it. Whatever the reason, he just smiled lightly and said: “Alright, enough. Jamie and I aren’t like that. Don’t talk about her that way.” My heart sank all the way to the floor. Then the doors of the ballroom burst open, and a group of masked men stormed in wielding bats and blades.

Jamie’s POV Guests screamed and scattered. Glasses shattered. Tables crashed over. “Where’s Ethan Foster?! Tell him to get out here!” The leader swept the room with wild, violent eyes. These were hired men, brought in by a bankrupt rival of the Foster family to settle the score. Chaos swallowed the room whole. “Ethan!” Sophia crumpled to the floor, shaking. Ethan’s expression shifted. On instinct, he scooped Sophia into his arms and lunged toward the emergency exit. “Jamie! Come on!” He looked back and shouted. And that’s when I saw it. One of the men raised a blade and swung it straight at Ethan’s back. He was holding Sophia. He couldn’t dodge. I didn’t think. Twenty-two years of instinct kicked in. I kicked off my heels, grabbed a solid wooden chair, and in the split second before the blade landed, I swung it as hard as I could into the attacker’s wrist. The crack was loud. The blade bit into a marble column instead. “You want to die?!” The man’s eyes went red. He turned on me. “Go, Ethan, RUN!” I shouted and smashed a wine bottle across another attacker’s head. Ethan looked back. Behind him, I stood like I was holding the line, feet planted, eyes clear. Sophia sobbed into his chest. “Ethan, please, I’m scared. Let’s just go.” “Jamie, hold on! I’ll get her out and come straight back!” He yelled it. Then he turned and ran, Sophia in his arms, and disappeared into the emergency exit without looking back. He left me with the danger. Again. He had always believed, completely and without question, that I was invincible. I watched his retreating back, and a hollow smile crossed my lips. One moment of distraction, and a knife punched deep into my left shoulder from the side. Thud. White-hot pain flooded my body. I grunted, grabbed the attacker’s arm by reflex, and threw him over my shoulder onto the floor. Security finally surged in, swarming the room to get things under control. I pressed my hand to my shoulder. Blood soaked steadily through the black velvet. The dark fabric hid it well. Just a warm, wet patch. I leaned against the wall, my face the color of paper, cold sweat breaking across my forehead. Everyone around me was too busy surviving to notice. Ten minutes later, Ethan came crashing back in with a team of security guards. “Jamie! Jamie!” I forced myself upright. I steadied myself. I didn’t want him to see me like this. I didn’t want him to think I was using an injury to make him feel guilty. That was my last shred of pride. Pathetic as it was. “I’m here.” My voice was thin, but steady. Ethan rushed over. I was standing straight, face pale but otherwise apparently intact. He let out a long breath and punched me in the right shoulder. “God, you scared me! Jamie, that was insane. You were incredible!” The impact jolted through to my left side. The wound tore. I bit down on my lip until it bled, and made no sound. “Is Sophia okay?” I asked. “She’s shaken up pretty bad. She’s crying in the car. She scraped her hand, so I need to get her to the ER.” Ethan was already moving toward the door as he spoke. “You’re good to handle things here, right? Talk to the police when they arrive and deal with the press. We can’t let this tank the stock price. I have to take Sophia. She needs me.” Then he was gone. I stood there, looking at the blood on the floor. My blood. Though Ethan would probably assume it belonged to one of the attackers, if he noticed it at all. A scraped hand. Needs the ER. I looked down at my own soaked side. And for the first time, I felt it, not pain, but the pure, flat absurdity of twenty-two years of this. “Mrs. Foster, you’re bleeding!” A sharp-eyed staff member finally spotted the dark stain spreading across my back. I waved them off and refused a hand. “It’s fine,” I said quietly, staring at nothing. “It doesn’t hurt.”

Jamie’s POV Late at night at a private hospital. When the doctor cut open my clothes, she went quiet. The knife had gone in deep, close enough to the nerve that it had nearly done permanent damage. Worse, because I had waited so long, the wound had bonded with the fabric fibers. Cleaning it out was going to be brutal. “Ms. Shaw, I need to give you a local anesthetic before I suture this.” “Don’t.” I stared up at the surgical light. My voice was weak but absolute. “Just stitch it.” “But…” “I need to feel it.” I needed this pain, clean, physical, undeniable, to finally cut me loose from twenty-two years of something that had always been a dream. The pull of needle and thread through skin was precise and awful. I gripped the edge of the table until my knuckles went white. I bit through my lip. I didn’t shed a single tear. I thought about being five years old, pushed into a cold swimming pool, flailing in the water, certain I was going to die. And him, arriving like the whole sky had opened up, pulling me back from the edge. I thought about being fifteen, kneeling on the hard ground outside because I hadn’t done my stepsister’s homework. My stepmother’s punishment: no dinner, no coming inside. And him, climbing over the wall with a paper bag, pressing a warm macaron into my hands, his voice fierce: “Anyone who touches you, you tell me. I’ll make them sorry.” Those moments of warmth had been the only light in a very bare life. But they had also built the cage. Woven it wire by wire, year by year, until I had walked in willingly and called it love. Now it was time to walk out. The doctor wanted to keep me for observation. I declined, took a car home to the house that technically still had my name attached to it, and let myself in. Every light was on. Ethan was on the couch on a phone call, his voice liquid-soft: “Okay. Don’t be scared, I’ll come over soon. Don’t get the bandage wet, and make sure you use the ointment the doctor gave you… you’re not bothering me. Stop saying that. When have I ever found you annoying?” He looked up when he heard the door. “You’re back.” Casual. His eyes swept over me once. I’d put on a dark coat before leaving the hospital. It covered everything. He noticed nothing. “Yeah.” I slipped off my shoes. Every small movement sent fire shooting across my back. “How’d it go? Did you get the press handled?” He stood up and moved toward me, reaching out to clap me on the shoulder out of habit. I stepped back without thinking. His hand hung in the air. His brow furrowed. “What’s wrong? Are you mad? Are you seriously upset that I left with Sophia?” He looked genuinely baffled. “Jamie, you’re not usually like this. The situation was critical. Sophia has never been through anything like that. She nearly had a panic attack. You’ve handled things like this before. I trusted you to manage it, that’s why I left it with you.” Trust, again. I looked up at him. My eyes were perfectly still, like a lake with no wind. “Ethan. If that blade had hit my head tonight, I would be dead.” He stared at me. Then laughed a little. “Don’t be dramatic. You’re fine, aren’t you? And honestly, the way you took that guy’s wrist out with a chair? You’re not dying anytime soon. You’re too tough for that.” He was still smiling. “Hell would send you back.” Still laughing. Still treating the whole night like a minor plot point. Still utterly certain that I was built to absorb whatever the world threw at me. I looked at his handsome, familiar, completely foreign face and felt a tiredness so deep I had no words for it. I was done explaining. Done justifying. Some people, you can’t wake them up. They have to stay asleep. Maybe it was guilt about earlier. Ethan reached into his jacket pocket and tossed me a velvet box. “Here. Picked this up at an auction a while back. I thought the necklace was nice. You never really wear jewelry. Think of it as hazard pay for tonight.” I opened it slowly. An emerald necklace. Antique design, clearly expensive. But the style was heavy, ornate, old-fashioned. The exact kind of thing my stepmother always wore. “What do you think? I’m good to you, right?” Ethan looked pleased with himself. “My mom used to wear something similar, very elegant. You always dress so plainly. This might help.” I looked at the necklace. He had never once known what I actually liked. “Thank you.” I closed the box. “Oh, and…” Ethan shifted gears, and something new crossed his face, a rare, slightly shy smile I had almost never seen on him. “Are you free tomorrow? I want you to come somewhere with me.” My fingers tightened on the edge of the velvet box. “Where?” “To pick out a ring.” His smile deepened. “I want to propose to Sophia. Properly. I owe her that and more after five years. And you have the best taste. You know what she’d love. She’s going to say yes.” Even though I had known this was coming, even though I had prepared myself for every version of this moment, I still heard it. The sound of something cracking. Like ice splitting, one sharp, clean sound, and then the whole world breaking apart.

Jamie’s POV I know what she’d love? No. I knew what Sophia would love because I had spent years quietly finding out, digging through her friends for information so I could hand Ethan the perfect gift every single time. I had pushed him into another woman’s arms and then handed him a map to her heart. “Okay.” The next afternoon. The most prestigious custom jewelry boutique in Manhattan. The consultant spread tray after velvet tray across the counter. Diamonds caught the light from every angle. Ethan studied each one with the focus he rarely applied to anything else. More serious than when he reviewed a billion-dollar contract. “Too small. Not for her.” “Too fussy. Sophia likes clean lines.” “This one…” He picked up a pink diamond ring and turned to me. “Jamie. Give me your hand.” I instinctively pulled my hand back. “For what?” “To try it on.” He said it like it was obvious. “Your fingers are about the same size as hers. Your hands are rougher, she takes better care of hers, but the bone structure is the same. Come on.” I looked at him. The boy who had taken up every corner of my youth. Standing here now, holding a ring he had chosen for someone else, asking to use my hand as a stand-in. And noting, while he was at it, that my hands weren’t as soft as hers. Of course they weren’t. Sophia’s hands were made for piano keys and oil paintings. Mine were made for sorting his files, managing his crises, and once, to make a project deadline, hauling equipment on a construction site. “Ethan.” My voice wavered. “Come on, hurry up.” He was already impatient, completely unaware. “What are you waiting for?” I held out my left hand. He slid the pink diamond onto my ring finger. A perfect fit. The stone caught the light against my pale skin. The whole thing felt like a punchline I’d been building toward for twenty-two years. “Beautiful!” Ethan’s face lit up. “Yeah, you really do have to see a ring on a hand to know. Your hands aren’t exactly model material, but the diamond’s flashy enough to carry it. It’s going to look even better on Sophia.” He handed the ring to the consultant, satisfied, and asked her to box it up. I looked at my bare finger. Then at Ethan, beaming as he took the small white box, completely at peace with the world. I smiled. Faint. Sad. “Ethan.” I said it to his back, quiet as a sigh. “The divorce papers are signed. I left them on your desk.” He stopped. Turned. And smiled, the wide, easy smile of a man whose life is suddenly coming together. “Jamie, seriously, thank you. Dinner tonight, on me. We can celebrate finally being single again!” I didn’t respond. I was thinking about the winter of junior year in high school. Sophia had been obsessed with a burger place near campus, but the lines were always impossible. So Ethan dragged me out of class to go stand in it for her. It was freezing, the wind cutting right through everything. My hands were so cold they cracked and blistered. Ethan pulled off his scarf, and for one second I thought he was going to wrap it around me. Instead, he bundled it around the bag of burgers, tucked the whole thing against his chest. “This way they’ll still be warm when Sophia gets them.” I came down with a fever that afternoon. Ethan patted me on the back. “Your immune system is terrible. You need to toughen up.” The memory wrapped around my chest like a thorned vine and squeezed.

Jamie’s POV When Ethan got home that evening, I was in the middle of packing. Two large suitcases lay open in the center of the living room. The things that were mine were quietly disappearing. Half the bookshelf was empty. The flat shoes I always wore by the door were gone. Even the pair of matching toothbrush cups on the bathroom counter had been reduced to one. Ethan stood in the doorway and stared. “Already?” He nudged one of the suitcases with his foot. “You don’t have to rush. You can stay. I’m not asking you to leave.” “It’s better this way.” I didn’t look up, my hands still moving. “We can’t keep living together once the divorce is final. Sophia would mind.” Ethan loosened his tie with a mildly irritated tug. “I’ve already explained everything to Sophia. Our marriage was never real. And you’re my best friend. Divorce doesn’t change that. What’s wrong with taking the guest room?” Family. What a word. I finally set down what I was holding and looked at him. The chandelier above us was bright. It lit up every line of his face, every trace of his easy, unbothered certainty. “Ethan. Men and women can’t just be friends.” I said it calmly, like a fact he had always chosen not to hear. “Especially not when one of them is about to get married. I don’t want to be someone people whisper about. And I don’t want to make things harder for you.” He blinked. Then almost laughed, like I’d said something absurd. “Who’s going to say anything about you? You’re VP of Foster Group.” Then his voice shifted. “And where would you even go? Back to your dad’s? You think your stepmother and your sister are going to roll out the welcome mat?” “I’m not going back there.” My lashes flickered. I raised my eyes and looked directly at him. “I’m going to stay with my fiancé.” The room went silent. The smile on Ethan’s face didn’t just fade. It froze, then cracked. “What did you just say?” “I said I’m going to stay with my fiancé.” I held his gaze and told the lie as steadily as I had ever told the truth. “He’s someone I knew in college. He’s been waiting for me. I kept putting things off because of you. Now that you have what you want, it’s time I went and lived my own life.” Ethan couldn’t move. “You can’t have a fiancé.” I wasn’t surprised. Of course he thought that. I had spent every hour orbiting him. My entire world had been his world. “You’re making it up,” he said, voice going strange. “Jamie, don’t joke about something like this. Who is he? What does he do? Does he treat you right? Is he after your money?” The questions came fast, almost frantic. I watched him unravel and felt nothing. No flutter. No ache. Just a quiet, exhausted stillness. “He treats me well. The same way you treat Sophia.” I kept my voice even. “He remembers when my cycle is and makes me warm milk. He knows my stomach is bad and won’t let me drink cold water. He turned down an arranged match his family set up for me.” “Ethan. You’re not the only person in the world who knows how to love someone.” I let that sit for a moment. “And Sophia isn’t the only person in the world worth loving.” He opened his mouth. Closed it. “Is that so?” He laughed, but it came out unsteady. “That’s great, then. Why didn’t you ever tell me? You could have said something. I’m your friend. I can’t believe you kept this from me.” “Because you never asked.” I picked up my bag. “I have to go. Ethan, I hope you and Sophia are happy. I really do.” I didn’t look at him again. I pulled my suitcase toward the front door. The wheels hummed against the marble floor, and the sound filled the empty house. “Wait!” The moment my hand touched the cold door handle, Ethan crossed the room in a few strides and slammed his palm flat against the door, trapping himself between me and the exit. His eyes were wide and unsteady. Like a child about to lose something he had never thought to value until right now. “Tonight, just have dinner with me tonight. You’re leaving. It’s the least we can do. Invite them, invite your friend, and I’ll check them out for you too.” I knew he was just making excuses. I looked down at the hand he had pressed against the door. Long fingers, clean knuckles. Beautiful, even now. “That’s not necessary.” I gently moved his hand aside. “He doesn’t like me staying close with my ex-husband.” Ex-husband. That word drew the line. It cut off every way back. I opened the door and walked out. Outside, the night was deep and dark. There was no fiancé. No college friend. The only person I had ever cared about, my whole life, was the one inside that house behind me. And now, I was letting him go. “Ethan,” I whispered to myself, “this time, I really mean it. I’m done.”

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The day of my engagement, my sister Tiffany got into a car accident and lost her memory, mistaking my fiancé Liam for her boyfriend. Everyone immediately ordered me to give Liam to her. Seeing my diamond ring, she sniffled, forcing a smile, “If you like it so much, I’ll just give it to you.” My brother, Ethan, snatched my wedding ring from my hand and threw it down the drain to vent his anger for her. When she found out I moved into our wedding home, she cried, tears streaming down her face, “Why do you have to steal my wedding home too? We’re family!” Mom and Dad both urged me to be generous and kind, then ganged up and kicked me out of the house. Later, she suffered from depression and climbed onto the rooftop late at night, weeping that no one loved her. Liam rushed to her side, gently wiping away her tears. “Silly girl, you’re the one I’ve always loved.” He personally placed a veil on her, and they shared a sweet kiss under the moonlight. No one paid attention to me, pushed off the building by her, lying there mangled, dying in agony. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day my sister Tiffany got into the car accident and lost her memory.  

“Seducing Liam, doing something so utterly despicable and shameless—how do you even have the nerve to live?” The moment I opened my eyes, I saw Tiffany lunging at me in fury, a pair of sharp scissors in her hand, aimed straight for my face. Instinctively, I pushed her away. Tiffany stumbled, the scissors flying from her grip, and she lost her balance, collapsing onto the floor. “I’m your own sister, why would you do this to me…” She clutched her face, sobbing uncontrollably. Mom and Dad rushed out of the hospital room, embracing her tenderly and comforting her without end. People came and went in the hospital, casting countless strange glances our way. “She looks so innocent, but she’s actually a homewrecker.” “They’re sisters? How utterly shameless.” I stared fixedly at the delicate woman before me, pinching my palm hard. The pain brought me back to reality. I had truly been reborn. Back to the day Tiffany lost her memory in the car accident! In my previous life, that day was supposed to be my wonderful engagement day with Liam. Tiffany, who was studying abroad, had rushed back to celebrate with me but got into a car accident on the way. When she woke up, she unexpectedly lost her memory, mistaking Liam for her boyfriend of many years. Upon hearing about my engagement to Liam, she completely broke down. “I’m the one who loves him!” “Stella, you’re my own sister, why would you betray me?” From that day on, Tiffany treated me like an enemy. She’d throw tantrums anytime, anywhere, constant insults were normal, and slaps and objects being thrown never stopped. The worst time, she threw a pot of boiling water on me, leaving large scars. My life became unbearable. But everyone around me said I bore an inescapable responsibility. “If she hadn’t rushed back to celebrate with you, Tiffany wouldn’t have lost her memory. You owe her big time!” “She’s sick now, she has amnesia. How can you even think about arguing with her?” From that day on, I was forced to tolerate and endure all of Tiffany’s malice. And she, in turn, gained everyone’s favoritism. Seeing the engagement ring on my finger, she would sniffle, forcing a smile, “If you like it, I’ll just give it to you.” Behind my back, she’d cry herself into dehydration and end up in the ER. My brother, Ethan, who had always looked up to me, snatched my wedding ring and flushed it down the toilet, to vent his anger for her. When she found out I moved into our wedding home, she cried, tears streaming down her face, “Why do you always steal my things? We’re family!” Mom and Dad were heartbroken, turning to scold me for not being generous and kind, then kicking me out of the house. No matter how absurd or unreasonable Tiffany’s demands were, I had to fulfill them. Even a hint of dissatisfaction, and she would have a fit, threaten to cut her wrists. And I gradually became the killer in everyone’s eyes, the one who drove her to her death. “Tiffany has amnesia, she’s not deliberately bothering you. Can’t you be more understanding of a sick person?” “It’s just a small favor, what’s the big deal? She’s your sister!” But who would be understanding of me? So, because Tiffany lost her memory, I was supposed to sacrifice my entire life? In that moment, I felt utter darkness. It was as if I was trapped in a deserted alley, with no end in sight. In the end, even the fiancé I had loved for years was handed over. “Because of you, Tiffany was so seriously hurt. Can’t you just bear with it?” When I couldn’t help but complain, Liam looked at me with cold, reproachful eyes: “You have no pity for your own family, Stella, do you even have a heart?!” I’ll never forget that night. Tiffany, suffering a depressive episode, climbed onto the rooftop in the middle of the night, weeping that no one loved her. Upon hearing the news, I rushed up immediately, wanting to save her. But she violently shoved me, and I fell, mangled and bloody. Liam rushed to the scene. He clearly saw me, lying there in agony on the ground, yet he still ran straight upstairs and held Tiffany in his arms, gently wiping away her tears: “Silly girl, you’re the one I’ve always loved.” Under the romantic moonlight, he personally placed a veil on her, and they kissed sweetly. No one cared about me, cruelly pushed off the building. My throat gushed with blood and fragments of internal organs, but it couldn’t compare to the searing pain in my heart. Liam clearly saw me… Why didn’t he save me? I longed and begged to live. I was still alive! But all I got was a body growing cold, slowly bleeding out and suffocating, a tragic end of despair. Floating in mid-air, I saw the triumphant smile on Tiffany’s lips. She hadn’t lost her memory at all! The so-called car accident was nothing more than a staged act! Only because she also liked Liam, driven by jealousy, she deliberately plotted to ruin the engagement party. Turning my life into a nightmare! Why me?! Carrying that resentment and hatred. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day Tiffany got into the car accident.  

Right now. Tiffany was still crying dramatically. “I just don’t understand, Stella, you’re my sister!” She choked, clutching her chest, her face even paler. “What did I ever do to you, that you would shamelessly steal my engagement ring…” Before she could finish, my brother Ethan anxiously jumped in to accuse me: “Stella, can’t you be more understanding? Tiffany is already suffering so much from the car accident and memory loss, and you’re deliberately provoking her! Are you even human?!” He roughly grabbed my hand, pulled off my ring, and flung it into the toilet. “It’s just a stupid ring… Ha, let’s see you show it off now!” Yet, just before, at the engagement party, he had earnestly promised me: “Sis, if anyone ever bullies you, I’ll beat them to a pulp!” In front of me, Mom and Dad also wore cold expressions. “Tiffany is sick now. As family, we need to give her plenty of love.” “Stella, you need to be deferential to your sister. If you dare to provoke Tiffany again, get out of our house. It’s our bad luck to have raised such a cold-hearted ingrate!” They only cared about Tiffany. No one remembered that today was supposed to be my engagement day. There were no blessings, only utter chaos. I had expected this. In my previous life, when they saw my horrific injuries, Mom and Dad were heartbroken. But under Tiffany’s tearful onslaught, they quickly changed their tune, claiming I had accidentally fallen from a height, just to exonerate Tiffany. Later, at my grave, they smiled with relief, telling me not to blame them, and to reincarnate soon. “Life, after all, must move forward.” But their bright and beautiful future was built upon my death! Even though I had experienced it all before. Those cold, impatient stares still pierced my heart, making it seize up. Looking at the loving family before me. I nodded expressionlessly. “I don’t care. Do what you want.”  

Before they went home. I packed a few simple toiletries and moved out. The next day, after calming myself, I went to work. First thing in the morning, my colleagues were all congratulating me on my engagement. “Make sure you invite us to the wedding!” “Stella, you and Liam are a perfect match. Your children are going to be beautiful!” Suddenly hearing Liam’s name, I trembled. It was as if I was back in that frigid moonlit night. My bones shattered, I lay on the ground like a dead dog, struggling with all my might but to no avail, only able to agonizingly feel life slowly drain away… I never wanted to experience that desperate taste again! Exhaling sharply, I was about to clarify my relationship with Liam. But then, Tiffany darted out from the crowd, grabbed a computer from a nearby desk, and savagely hurled it at me. “Stella, you’ll stop at nothing to seduce Liam for your career! He’s your sister’s man!” “Do you really have to completely ruin my life before you’re satisfied?!” Her shout created a huge stir. My colleagues around me started whispering. “Oh my god, what a bombshell!” “I knew it! Stella, a woman, becoming manager so soon after graduation? She must have slept her way to the top. Tsk, tsk…” “And they’re sisters? Becoming a mistress to steal her sister’s fiancé, how absolutely shameless, ugh!” Shock, disdain, contempt… Strange looks pierced me like needles. I watched Tiffany’s outburst calmly: “Are you done making a scene?” “Stella, you’ve always targeted me, jealous that I’m more successful and happy than you.” Tiffany gave a tragic smile, her face stained with tears. “Before, I always tolerated you because you were younger, but you’re really driving me crazy!” “I… I’m pregnant. My baby needs a father, and he’ll call you Auntie!” “Stella, please give Liam back to me, okay?” Undeniably, Tiffany was a master actress. She cautiously cradled her belly, tears falling like a broken string of pearls, evoking sympathy from everyone. Not to mention, the other protagonist soon appeared. When Liam showed up, he froze. He first guiltily avoided my gaze, then unhesitatingly rushed to Tiffany, his face filled with tenderness. This “sincere display” further solidified my “disgrace.” The murmurs around us grew louder. Ignoring them, I calmly dialed the police. And also contacted a mental hospital. Tiffany loved to use her “fits” to torment and humiliate me. So, I’d send her back to where she belonged!  

By the time Mom and Dad rushed over. Tiffany was leaning by the window, threatening to jump. One foot hovered in mid-air, her eyes red: “I just want my happiness back, is that wrong?” “Why do I, who’s never done anything bad, have to suffer such cruelty?” “Liam, it seems we’re destined to be together in this life. Let’s meet again in the next!” Everyone was terrified by her deathly words. Liam was completely flustered; he stepped forward, trembling, to comfort her: “Tiffany, please come down, okay? We still have a connection. Can you bear to leave me like this?” Tiffany’s face was pale, tears continuously streaming down: “But Stella is my own sister, I really can’t bear to hurt her…” She closed her eyes and let go of the window frame. As she was about to fall, Liam lunged forward, fiercely pulling her into his arms. As if he was embracing the cherished treasure of his life. Seeing Tiffany successfully rescued, everyone let out a collective sigh of relief. Mom turned and slapped me hard: “Stella, are you gloating now? Driving your own sister to death, how could I have given birth to such a cold-blooded, heartless animal?!” Dad also gave me a cold glare: “Apologize to Tiffany immediately! Otherwise, you’ll regret it!” I touched the stinging pain on my face, responding calmly: “I didn’t do anything wrong, why should I apologize?” They knew perfectly well. It was Tiffany’s “amnesia” and “illness” that made her mistake him. Why should I accept this fabricated guilt? “Stella, are you done?!” Mom impatiently cut me off, her voice shrill and piercing: “Tiffany got this strange illness because of your car accident and amnesia. You must atone for her for the rest of your life!” “You nitpick over every little thing! How did I ever give birth to such a cold-hearted, ungrateful viper?!” “If I had known… I should have strangled you at birth to spare others from your evil!” Even Liam looked at me with hatred. They all united to protect Tiffany. But Tiffany’s attempt to jump, though dramatic, was staged. Below the window was a spacious patio, barely half a meter high. No one could die from such a fall. Yet, in my previous life, when I was pushed down from dozens of feet high and lay broken on the concrete, no one stood up for me. Their hearts were always and only for Tiffany. I had no chance before, but now I would seek justice for myself! When the police arrived. I turned and exposed Tiffany’s antics: “Tiffany slandered my reputation. Please give me justice.” The moment the words left my mouth. Liam’s face instantly changed, and he shot me a look of displeasure. Dad roared at me, his face grim: “Stella, are you crazy? Do you really want to send your own sister to prison?” Mom, with her sharp fingernails, lunged at me, not forgetting to curse: “Fine, heaven truly is blind to let me raise such a despicable, low-life animal!” “Stella, listen to me. If you cause Tiffany to be taken away by the police today, I’ll disown you as my daughter!” Facing those hateful, glaring eyes, I remained expressionless. In my previous life, when I slowly bled out and died in despair, my heart had already stopped feeling pain. The Stella who was a daughter of the family was already dead in that desolate moonlit night. I turned and handed the pre-prepared evidence to the police: “The one causing trouble is Tiffany, my biological sister. She has a mental illness, memory confusion.” Saying this, I handed over a copy of her medical records. Tiffany had been very thorough in her act, somehow procuring a seemingly authentic diagnostic report. In my previous life, she used this “get out of jail free card” to humiliate and torment me repeatedly. But now, it would be the very thing to nail her to the pillar of shame!

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Before the motorcycle race, my fiancé Lucas stopped me just as I was about to take the starting line. “Nora, you’re giving up your spot today. Lina rides first — you’re her backup.” I froze. This was the most important race of my career. The one that could cement my place as the world’s number one female rider. And he wanted me to play backup for a rookie. I refused, flat out. Lucas frowned. “Lina needs this win. You’ve already taken five championships — what’s one more going to prove?” “Nora, if you don’t fall in line, you know what happens.” I laughed. “You’re going to fire me?” Lucas didn’t deny it. And every single team member who had stood beside me through all five of those championships — every one of them stayed silent, accepting the decision without a word. In that moment, I understood. It wasn’t that Lina needed the championship. It was that they had decided the team no longer needed me. I unclipped the team badge from my chest and pulled off my engagement ring. I dropped them both in front of Lucas. “Fine Then I’m done with the team. And I’m done with you.”

I turned and walked toward my bike. But Lina was already sitting on it, wearing a brand-new racing suit. When she saw me coming, she seemed to suddenly remember I existed. She gave me a small, almost timid look. “Nora, I’m sorry. But Lucas said — starting today, this bike is mine.” My head rang like a bell had gone off inside it. I spun around, grabbed Lucas by the collar, and yanked. “What is this? You gave her my bike?! On what grounds?! That’s MY bike — who gave you the right?!” My eyes burned. I stared him down. “I built that bike over six years!” “Three hundred qualifying races. Broken bones. Hospital bills. That bike was born from every one of those nights — every hour I spent with the engineers tearing it apart and rebuilding it!” “It’s won five world championships with me. And it was the first thing you ever —” I bit my lip and stopped myself. Because that bike was more than a racing machine. It was the first motorcycle Lucas ever built with his own hands. It was the gift he gave me the day he asked me to be his. I still remembered how he looked that day — pushing it out in front of me, cheks flushed, asking if I’d ride beside him all the way to the top. He said, “Nora, racing is dangerous. Out there on the track, you face every second alone. I can’t always be beside you — but I want this bike to be.” And now he was giving it away. Handing it to someone else like it meant nothing. Lucas simply pried my fingers off his collar, his voice even and unmoved. “That bike is registered under the team.” “All the modification costs went through team accounts.” “Didn’t you just say you were done with the team? Done with me?” “If you’re leaving the team —” “then you have no claim to team property. Why shouldn’t I give it to a new rider?” I stared at him. Something cold moved through me all at once. Six years ago, when the team couldn’t even afford to rent practice track, I was the one who poured every prize check back into it. I was the one grinding race after race, chasing sponsorships, keeping the whole operation alive. All that money I had bled for — the moment it touched a team account, it stopped being mine. I didn’t even have the right to use it anymore. Lina tugged carefully at Lucas’s sleeve. “Lucas, maybe just let it go.” “Nora’s been with the team a long time. I’d feel terrible if all of this happened because of me.” Then she turned to me, voice soft. “Nora, don’t be upset with Lucas. The rally takes a real toll on your body, and you’re thirty now — he’s just worried you can’t handle the strain anymore.” I heard every word. And I laughed. Not because it was funny. But Lucas had already turned away, crossing the floor toward Lina. “Let me fix your gear.” He crouched down, lifted her foot onto his knee, and adjusted her boot straps himself. Lina’s face went bright red. Her eyes kept drifting toward me, wide and innocent. “Lucas, isn’t this a little…” Lucas gave a low, quiet laugh. “There’s nothing wrong with it.” “You’re the most important person on this team today. Nobody else even comes close.” Each word landed like a slap. The people around them closed in, filling the air with warm laughter, explaining the upcoming race — wind conditions, terrain, competitor profiles. I stood exactly where I was. Not one person looked at me. Not one person had even thought to get me a comm earpiece. What they’d left for me was a backup bike. An old model that had been retired the year before. Everyone was waiting me out. Waiting for me to cave. Because without team support, there was no way I could finish a rally race on my own. I clenched my jaw so hard my nails nearly broke the skin of my palm. Then my phone buzzed. A message from the manager of the team in next paddock over. “I heard everything. Nora — there will always be a place for you on my team.”

“Still sulking?” Lucas had come up beside me at some point. I locked my phone and looked at him. He spoke like nothing had happened. Calm, collected. “The wind shifted today. I already had someone mark the updated track conditions — you should take a look before the start.” I didn’t take it. Lucas pressed his lips together briefly, then crouched down beside the old backup bike and began running a pre-race check like it was the most natural thing in the world. After a moment, almost as an afterthought, he said: “You’ve been asking me to come meet your parents for a while now. I know we kept having to push it back — something always came up with the team. Once this race is over, I’ll go with you.” Something caught in my chest. I didn’t know when it had happened — when the Lucas who used to look at me like I was his whole world had turned into this. Every time he needed something from me, the pattern was always the same. He’d let me cool off first, wait for me to come around on my own. And if I didn’t, he’d offer something small — just enough — and then act like the whole thing had never happened. I looked down for a moment. “We’ll see,” I said. Lucas’s hands paused on the bike. He hadn’t expected that answer. But a memory was already surfacing. Every time I’d asked to bring him home, my parents would spend days getting ready. My mom would be up before dawn to get to the market. My dad would clean the house from top to bottom, inside and out. A whole table of food, kept warm from noon into the evening — and every single time, what eventually arrived was a message from Lucas saying something had come up. They were always so disappointed. But they never let it show. They’d hold their smiles together and tell me it was fine. “It’s okay, honey. His career comes first — there’s always next time.” But next time never came. They kept waiting. My phone lit up with a notification. Lina’s personal account. I had never clicked on it before. I don’t know why I did this time. My hands started to shake. Every single time Lucas had canceled on my parents — none of it was because of the team. The day he said he had a sponsor meeting, he was out shopping with Lina. The day he said there was an emergency staff meeting, he took Lina to a theme park. The day he said the training data had flaged an error — There was a photo of him sitting at a dinner table. Lina’s family’s place. Her parents on either side of them, all smiling. Lina was leaning into him, looking completely at ease. The comments were full of people asking when they were getting married. Lucas had never said a word about any of it. He’d just quietly liked every single post. My chest tightened. I kept scrolling. The most recent post stopped me cold. It was a close-up of a motorcycle. I recognized it immediately. My bike. Lina’s caption read: He said he had a special gift for me. Starting today, this bike has a new name — “Little Bell.” I stared at the photo. The name Lucas had carved into the frame with his own hands — my name — had been sanded away. In its place was a small, freshly engraved bell. Everything snapped into focus. Giving the bike to Lina wasn’t a last-minute decision. Neither was bumping me to backup. He had planned all of it. I looked up and held the phone out to Lucas. “Explain this.” Lucas glanced at the screen. Didn’t even blink. “It was a post-training activity for the new riders. Nora, if you want to be upset, fine — but don’t go spreading rumors about her.” I held my ground. “And the bike? Why was my name removed?” Lucas finally looked up at me. His expression wasn’t guilty. It was something closer to patience — like he was explaining something obvious. “Nora, you’re thirty. Every other team in this circuit has already been talking about moving on from you. I’m the reason you’ve still been in the starting lineup.”

I went completely still. Lucas kept going, like he hadn’t noticed. “You’re getting married next year. You’ll need to step back from all this eventually. Passing the bike to a new rider makes sense — and using this race to build Lina’s profile is the right call. What exactly is the problem?” “Nora. Be reasonable. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” Something in me went very quiet. I looked at him. Then I noded slowly. “Got it.” I turned and pushed the backup bike toward the starting line. Lucas visibly relaxed. He thought I’d finally given in. But what he didn’t know was that when the manager from the neighboring team — Shane — had messaged me earlier asking if I’d made up my mind, I’d already sent back a single word. Yes. The moment I rolled into the starting grid, the whole venue erupted. People shot to their feet in stands. “What is going on?! Why isn’t Nora starting?!” “Isn’t that her championship bike?! Why is a rookie on it?!” “They put the champion on a throwaway bike and gave the race machine to a newcomer — has this team lost its mind?!” Someone screamed toward the team paddock. “Give Nora her bike back!” No one responded. The starting gun fired. Every bike launched forward at once. The roar of the engines swallowed the entire circuit. The backup bike was rougher than the championship machine — wilder, harder to control. Engine heat climbed fast, and the temperature burned straight through the frame into my thighs. I didn’t feel it. There was only one thought in my head. Go. Push everything you have. Corner after corner fell behind me. My tires scraped the rock face on the cliff side. The frame dipped so low it was nearly kissing the ground. The commentator’s voice broke through over the speakers, pitched higher with every update. “Nora is charging hard!” “She’s on a bike that was retired years ago!” “Oh my God — she’s already in the top five!” “Second place! Nora has moved into second!” Meanwhile, on the other side of the course — Lina was falling back. Steadily, visibly. A reporter’s voice cut through the broadcast channel. “Lina is crying!” “She’s crying while she rides!” “She’s clearly overwhelmed — the pressure has completely gotten to her!” I didn’t spare a thought for any of it. The only thing I could see was the tail of the first-place bike ahead of me. One final climb. That was all that stood between me and the pass. Then Lucas’s voice came through my earpiece — low, tightly controlled. “Nora. Are you done? Ease off. Now.” I gripped the handlebars. “No.” Silence for a beat. When he came back, his voice was ice. “Nora.” “You are still a member of this team. If you refuse to follow instructions, I will terminate your contract. You will never work in this industry again — and you will owe us seven figures in breach penalties.” “And don’t forget our engagement. Keep this up, and I will start reconsidering our future.” I fixed my eyes on first place. Closing in. “I already said it.” “I’m done with the team.” “And I’m done with you.” “Lucas.” “You have nothing to threaten me with.” “This is my win. I’m taking it back myself.” A few seconds of silence. When Lucas spoke again, he wasn’t angry. He was quiet in a way that made my stomach drop. “Nora. You’re going to regret this.” My heart lurched. The next second — The bike exploded beneath me. A violent, full-body shudder. The handlebars went haywire. The frame swung left, then right, completely out of my control. The thought hit me like ice water. Someone tampered with the bike. I fought the bars with everything I had. Tried to hold the line. Tried to aim for the finish. Even if it kills me — I cross that line first. The bike hit maximum speed. The frame buckled. We left the track entirely. The impact shook the whole mountainside. I was launched. Airborne. My body hit the rock wall hard. Blood floded my vision. My thoughts started to come apart. In the last second before everything went black — Lucas’s voice drifted through my earpiece. Soft. Almost tired. “Nora. Why couldn’t you just listen?” Then the world went dark.

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“Chloe, you must’ve had a wild time overseas, didn’t you?” My sister-in-law, Fiona, whom I was meeting for the first time, suddenly blurted this out when I came home for the holidays. “That necklace looks familiar. Black for in-person, white for video, blue for custom orders, red for no limits. What level are you at?” My relatives, who had just been prying about my income, collectively gasped in shock. “No wonder you insisted on going abroad. You were afraid of being seen if you were selling yourself here, huh?” Mom and Dad were furious. “Get out! Don’t you dare stain our family’s name!” I touched the red carnelian necklace on my neck and smiled. “Oh, Fiona, you’ve had a wilder time than me. You’re sweeter to Mr. Jenkins next door than you are to Ethan.” It had been four years since I’d been home. Mom and Dad had specifically invited all our relatives over for a big holiday dinner. I went around, toasting everyone and handing out the gifts I’d prepared. Aunt Carol kept praising me, eyeing the brand new designer bag I’d given her. “Chloe, you’re the successful one. Among all the kids in our family, no one earns as much as you. If you get a chance to get rich, don’t forget to bring us along.” Mom and Dad beamed, their faces glowing. “Chloe not only earns a lot but she’s also so thoughtful. She even sends us two thousand dollars every month while studying abroad, unlike someone else I know. We sent him to a private vocational college that costs forty thousand a year, and he still couldn’t graduate. He just lounges around at home all day, driving us crazy.” Ethan, my brother, who had been sulking and drinking heavily, bristled at the comparison. “Who knows where she got that money? It’s probably dirty money!” Fiona nudged his arm, then raised her glass with an apologetic look. “Chloe, Ethan’s had too much to drink, don’t mind him. “But I really don’t know, what kind of work were you doing abroad that paid so well?” I put down my glass, about to speak, but then I saw her raise an eyebrow, a look on her face like she wanted to say something but couldn’t. “Honestly, you don’t have to say anything, Chloe. We all understand that a pretty girl like you might be tempted to make quick cash.” The moment she finished speaking, everyone at the dinner table stared at me. Someone blunt just came out and asked, “Chloe, were you selling yourself overseas?” Fiona then seemed to realize she’d spoken out of turn, waving her hand with a laugh. “What ‘selling herself’? Why say something so ugly? I didn’t say anything at all! Eat, eat.” “But I just need to remind you, Chloe, don’t let anyone take pictures or videos. With all your male relatives around, it would be awful if they saw you online later.” I couldn’t believe Fiona, whom I was meeting for the first time, would openly spread rumors about me. I was so angry, I slammed my fist on the table. “That’s nonsense! How could you say such a thing? Did you see anything?!” She looked startled. “No, no, I didn’t see anything, I’m just talking nonsense, okay? But if you’re wearing *that kind* of necklace, why are you afraid of people talking?” But it was too late to stop the conversation. Dad slammed his fork down. “What necklace? Explain yourself!” Fiona was quick to reply. “Everyone says that international students who wear those necklaces are… wild. “Black for in-person, white for video, blue for custom orders, red for no limits. Chloe, what level are you at?” The relatives who had been showering me with compliments instantly changed their tune. “I knew it! How else could she earn money instead of spending it on studies? Tsk, tsk.” “Let her keep that money. We’re not jealous of *that* kind of cash.” Aunt Carol, who had been clutching her new bag, also changed her expression. “Ugh, no way! I don’t want anything bought with dirty money. Don’t you dare track that filth into our home.” She even stomped on the ground a few times. Mom and Dad sobered up completely, unable to process what was happening. Mom clutched her chest, struggling to breathe. “Chloe, is what your sister-in-law saying true? Speak up!”

I angrily pounded the table. “Of course it’s not true!” Dad glared. “Then why would Fiona say that? Where did you get that necklace?” I pulled up the brand’s official website to show them. “This necklace is from an international luxury brand, people all over the world buy it. What does it have to do with international students?” I never imagined that something even celebrities and millionaires wore could be used to spread rumors about me. It was like seeing someone with an expensive watch and accusing them of having a sugar daddy. But Fiona was defiant. “Exactly! It’s an expensive brand, so rich men use it to give as gifts!” Watching her spout nonsense, I felt my blood pressure rising. If I didn’t clear this up, my reputation would be completely ruined. Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to calm down and asked her, “Fiona, you’ve never even been abroad. What proof do you have for what you’re saying?” To my surprise, she was prepared. She immediately shared a video to the family group chat. “This is what people who studied abroad themselves said. You female international students, you’ve had your fun, made your money overseas, and now you come back looking for some unsuspecting local guy to settle down with.” At her words, Mia, my cousin, who had just been thinking of introducing me to a friend, looked disgusted. “I knew it, none of you who go abroad are any good! Fawning over foreigners, getting used up by foreign men, then running back to contaminate our pure, good-hearted local guys!” Leo, my other cousin, stared at my stomach. “I wondered why you suddenly came back after four years. You’re pregnant and forced to come back looking for someone to marry, right? Is the baby black or white?” I almost laughed from sheer anger watching that video. The person in the video was talking about how those necklaces were popular in niche circles, but in Fiona’s mouth, it became “everyone who wears this necklace is wild.” The video clearly said that *both* male and female international students could be led astray abroad, but Fiona only mentioned female international students. I grabbed her arm and started pulling her toward the door. “Olivia, Mr. Evans’s daughter from upstairs, also studied abroad, and she wears this necklace. Let’s go ask her if she was selling herself too.” Ethan, who had been silent, immediately blocked the doorway. “Chloe, haven’t you caused enough trouble? Are you trying to embarrass us even more?!” “Your sister-in-law has never even met you. Ask yourself, what good would it do her to spread rumors about you?” My whole family stood together, pointing fingers at me. A deep sense of despair choked me. Even though I hadn’t been home for four years, I’d spent countless hours and money helping Mom and Dad buy a house and helping Ethan get married and settle down. Now, those four were a family, and I was the outsider. Seeing my whole family say this, the relatives were even more convinced that I’d had a wild private life abroad. “Flies don’t buzz around clean eggs. So many people are here, why are they only talking about you and not us?” “Your parents boast to everyone that they have a daughter studying abroad. Now where are they supposed to put their faces?” “I don’t dare come to your house for the holidays anymore, lest you corrupt my kids.” Mom’s eyes rolled back, and she collapsed into a chair. Dad’s hand, pointing at my nose, trembled. “Chloe Miller, we never lacked food or drink in this house. Why would you do something so scandalous?!” I was about to explain again that I hadn’t, but Fiona cut me off. “Mom, Dad, don’t say that to Chloe. Maybe it really is a coincidence?” “Even if Chloe inexplicably has so much money, and out of all the branded necklaces, she happened to pick this one, it doesn’t necessarily mean she was selling herself.” I felt faint with anger. Her words seemed to be defending me, but in reality, they still implied the same thing, determined to link me to promiscuous international students. I stopped wasting my breath and pulled out the journal articles I’d published over the past four years. “I was always holed up at school. How would I have time to go out? All this money I earned from doing freelance research in the lab.” Fiona listened, then gasped in fake surprise, covering her mouth. “Chloe, you were doing *those sorts of things* in the lab? You’re so brave!” I stared into Fiona’s eyes, so enraged I felt fire spitting from them. “You’re slandering me, and that’s illegal, you know that? If you don’t have proof, I’ll call the police and have you arrested right now!” Fiona scoffed, then pulled out a photo from her phone. “You want proof? Here it is, see for yourself!”

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“Alex, we accidentally set your house on fire with the fireworks! Your parents are trapped inside!” It was a holiday evening. My old friend, Liam, invited us out to catch up. He insisted on setting off some fireworks to liven things up. Liam, wanting to make a grand show, just waved his hand and bought over ten thousand dollars’ worth of fireworks, ready to light them all at once. Watching the rows of fireworks lined up on the ground, my eyelids twitched, and I tried my best to warn him. But he wouldn’t listen, just smiled and said, “I know what I’m doing.” He finished speaking and rushed forward to light all the fireworks. Helpless, I eventually went back inside to play cards with friends. But my butt hadn’t even warmed the seat when he burst in, frantic, claiming my parents were screaming in agony inside the burning house. I instinctively thought Liam was joking. “No way, my parents…” Before I could finish, he anxiously cut me off. “Seriously! Why would I lie to you? Come on, let’s go! The fire’s out of control!” With that, he yanked me along and pulled me straight towards my house. By now, the fire was completely out of control. I hadn’t even reached my front door, but the scorching heat was already washing over me. There were many people trying to put out the fire, and I could still hear painful groans from inside the house. Someone was screaming a name heartbreakingly, but I couldn’t quite make it out. My brow furrowed. I was even more confused. My parents weren’t home. They hadn’t come back this year. So, who were the two people trapped inside? Without thinking too much, I pulled out my phone to call the fire department and the police, but before I could dial. Mayor Thompson called out to me. He hurried over, a somber expression on his face. “Alex, your parents are trapped in there. I’m afraid we can’t save them from this fire. We’ve thrown so much water on it, but it’s no use.” “You need to brace yourself.” As he spoke, he wiped sweat from his face, his eyes red. I looked up. The house was engulfed in raging flames. I could see two figures, burned, scurrying around, screaming desperately. My heart clenched. Even if they weren’t my parents, we had to get them out quickly. But just as I was about to press the dial button, Mayor Thompson snatched my phone away, stepping forward to stop me. “No, Alex, you can’t call the police!” “Our town is up for a major community grant soon. We absolutely cannot have a fire or fatalities on our record. Let’s just put out this fire and forget about it.” I opened my mouth to argue, but Liam quickly chimed in. “That’s right, Alex, we can’t call the cops. We can’t jeopardize the bigger picture. Look, everyone’s helping you put out the fire. Calling the police would be biting the hand that feeds you. I say let’s just drop this!” “Putting out the fire is the priority right now.” Though I didn’t agree with their reasoning, putting out the fire first was indeed important. I didn’t argue with them further. I quickly joined the firefighting efforts. Seeing this, they also stopped delaying and immediately started fighting the fire. We fought the fire until almost three in the morning. The flames finally died down, but the air was filled with an acrid, lingering smell of smoke. Two charred bodies were carried out and covered with white sheets. Before I could even react, Liam covered his face and started to sob first. “Alex, your parents are so tragic. They died in the fire before the holiday even ended. I wish I hadn’t set off those fireworks; none of this would have happened.” “I’m so sorry, Alex. I never thought everyone else’s houses would be fine, and only yours would catch fire.” “But I didn’t mean to, please don’t blame me.” I hadn’t even said a word, and he was already playing the victim. Even if these weren’t my parents’ bodies, they were still two human lives.

I couldn’t help but get angry, clenching my fists. “Didn’t I warn you today? But no, you had to light all those fireworks. Now the house is burned, and people are dead. What good are those words now?” Liam looked at me with tear-filled eyes, then crouched on the ground, crying even louder. He put on such a display, it almost looked like I was bullying him. Some townspeople couldn’t stand it and stepped forward to defend him. “Alright, people are dead now, what good is talking about it? Just say less and let it go.” “Exactly! No one else’s house caught fire, only yours. At the end of the day, your family just had bad luck. Who can you blame for that?” “Right, if you ask me, you should thank Liam. Your parents died early, didn’t that just cut your future burden of caring for them in half?” He spoke casually, arms crossed, and his words stunned me, instantly sending my anger soaring. “Are you even human?” “What do you mean, ‘burden cut in half’? Step forward and explain yourself!” I tugged at my sleeve, gritting my teeth, and took a step forward. I couldn’t believe those words had come from a person’s mouth. I wanted nothing more than to tear that person’s mouth apart right then. Seeing my aggressive stance, she sheepishly took a step back. Mayor Thompson quickly came forward to intervene, “Alright, alright, Alex, don’t bother with him. That’s just how he talks.” “Now, just focus on making arrangements for your parents. As for a place to stay, you can come to my place. I can’t let you be homeless in town.” Liam, having composed himself, tugged at my sleeve and spoke softly. “Alex, why don’t you stay at my place? No matter what, this is my fault, so consider it my way of making it up to you. You can treat my home as your own, okay?” “My parents can be your parents, alright?” I stared at him silently, but his eyes darted away, unable to meet my gaze directly. I’d found it strange today when he was setting off fireworks. Why so many? And quite a few of the handheld ones were pointed directly at my house. My face was tense. I stared intently at him, trying to catch any hint of something off. Seeing this, Mayor Thompson continued to play the peacemaker, but every word he said was in Liam’s defense. “Alright, Alex, let bygones be bygones. Don’t hold this against Liam. He didn’t mean for this to happen. If you don’t forgive him, he’ll feel terrible too.” “Let’s just take your parents’ bodies to the funeral home for cremation before dawn.” After speaking, he called for people to come and move the bodies. I smiled, speaking each word slowly and clearly. “But Mayor, my parents never came back for the holidays this year. These two bodies can’t be my parents’.” “I think we should call the police and let them determine whose bodies these are.” Everyone’s movements froze. Their faces showed disbelief. Liam had the biggest reaction. He immediately stood up, pointing at the two bodies emotionally. “Impossible! How can they not be your parents’?” “They died in your house! Who else could they be but your parents?” “At the end of the day, you’re just saying this because you still want to call the police, aren’t you?” “Alex! Can’t you be a little more sensible? Is your parents’ death more important than our town getting this community award? Can you not see the bigger picture?” The bigger picture? I couldn’t believe those words came from his mouth. Even more unbelievable was that no one in the entire town objected. Instead, they looked at me with a hint of blame, as if I was making trouble. A knot of anger lodged itself in my chest, neither rising nor falling. Mayor Thompson frowned and stepped forward, his words laced with a warning. “Alex, I know you’re grieving the loss of your parents right now, but you can’t make things difficult for us.” “If you make things difficult, who in town will help with your parents’ funeral arrangements?” “You’re a man; do you have the ability to ensure they rest in peace?” “This matter ends here. It’s already light out; let’s just bury your parents directly.” Saying this, he immediately called for a few men to move the bodies. But it was the holiday season, and everyone felt it was a bad omen. No one wanted to be the first to move. Liam pursed his lips and pushed me. “Alex, what are you waiting for? Give these men some money! You know you have to pay for things to get done, right?” “You’ve been working outside for years; how can you not understand how things work around here? I’ve stayed in this town, I know what I’m talking about.” “Everyone needs at least a thousand dollars, you know?” He urged me while signaling to the men to show their payment app QR codes. “Go on, pay up. After all, these are your parents’ bodies. No matter what, you need to show respect.”

A thousand dollars per person? To hell with their “how things work.” This was practically robbery. When no money was offered, no one wanted to touch them. But as soon as “a thousand dollars” was mentioned, over ten men immediately sprang forward. That would easily be ten thousand dollars. I didn’t move, suppressing my impatience and raising my voice. “I’ve already told you, these aren’t my parents’ bodies. My parents didn’t come back for the holidays this year.” “I don’t know who these two people are!” Liam’s expression stiffened. A cold scoff echoed from the crowd. The woman who had previously defended Liam stepped forward again. “Stop bluffing! I saw your parents around eight last night! I even said hello to them!” “You need to come up with a better lie, and plenty of other people saw your parents too!” A few people next to her also spoke up in agreement. “I saw them too. We were sitting by the town entrance, chatting, and we all saw your parents. We have no reason to lie to you.” “Exactly. We also saw them. Nobody lies about dead people; it’s bad luck. We’re not that bored.” Their back-and-forth chatter gave me a headache, but my parents really hadn’t come back for the holidays. My scrutinizing gaze fell on them, but their confident expressions didn’t seem fake. A sudden, unbidden dread began to creep into my heart. Liam subconsciously let out a sigh of relief, patting my shoulder to comfort me. “Alex, I know you might have trouble accepting this right now, but everyone has no reason to lie to you, right?” “If you don’t believe it, just make a call. Then you can confirm whether your parents are home or not.” My body began to tremble uncontrollably. Someone in the crowd held out a phone to me. It displayed a surveillance video from the town entrance. The footage clearly showed my parents appearing in the video, greeting people. Now I truly panicked. I quickly pulled out my own phone, trembling as I called my dad. But the phone was off. A suffocating feeling swelled in my chest, my heart pounding. My dad’s phone was unreachable, so I immediately called my mom, but her phone still went unanswered. I called five times in a row, but no one picked up. I took a breath, trying to calm myself, then immediately turned to call my brother, Ben, for one last confirmation. The phone rang once, then was answered. Ben’s voice came through. “Alex, anything wrong with calling so early?” I rubbed my stinging eyes, my voice a little hoarse as I asked, “Ben, did Mom and Dad go back to their old house last night?” My brother chuckled on the other end, complaining slightly. “Yeah, last night Dad insisted on going home for some reason—he had a special plan for dinner at home. So, Chloe and I had to drive them back.” “Why? What’s up?” I opened my mouth, but my throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton. The words wouldn’t come out. I quickly wiped my eyes. My little nephew, Leo, was crying in the background, and my brother had already hung up. Looking at the two bodies, my legs suddenly felt weak. Liam quickly supported me, comforting me while urging me to pay. “Alex, it’s come to this. It’s right to let your parents rest in peace. Don’t be too sad.” “How about we pay the men so they can bury your parents, and then we’ll talk? It’s getting late, and everyone’s been up all night with you.” I was trembling with rage. I shoved Liam’s hand away and knelt before my parents’ bodies. Staring at the charred corpses, I took several deep breaths before finally pulling back the white sheet covering them, examining them closely to confirm. I refused to believe they were my parents, but their burnt figures were so indistinct that I couldn’t even tell their gender. I bit down hard on my teeth, struggling to control my emotions. Behind me, Liam’s lips curved into a smile, then he put on a facade of false concern. “There, there, Alex, don’t be sad. It’s all over now.” Over? How could it be over? If it weren’t for him, how would my house have caught fire? How would my parents have died? I let out a deep, shaky breath, my hand trembling as I pulled out my phone to call the police. Liam slapped my phone out of my hand, annoyance in his voice. “Didn’t I say not to call the police? Don’t you understand that this matter is closed?” I rubbed my throbbing temples, ignoring him, and reached down to pick up my phone from the ground. Liam instantly kicked my phone three feet away. I was so angry I gritted my back teeth, standing up to confront him. Suddenly, a familiar voice sounded behind me. “Alex, what’s everyone gathered here for so early?” I whirled around. The speakers were my parents. David and Sarah. So whose bodies were those on the ground?

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I begged my wife for seven years, and finally, she agreed to come home with me for Christmas. My mom happily prepared the turkey, just waiting for Sarah to arrive. But by midnight, I’d called her dozens of times, and she hadn’t picked up. Just as I was starting to think something terrible had happened and was about to call the police, I saw her latest Snapchat story. “It’s been ages since I’ve been back home to see my buddies. Tonight, we party till we drop!” The picture showed her intimately embracing a man. I recognized him instantly. It was Lucas Thorne, her childhood friend she went back to see every Christmas. I remembered her throwing a tantrum for no reason a few days ago, complaining that Lucas was taking his wife and kids abroad for Christmas this year. Suddenly, I understood why she’d suddenly agreed to come home with my parents and me tonight for Christmas. A pang of pain shot through my chest, but I fought it down and commented on her story. “Didn’t you promise to come home for Christmas?” The next second, her call came in. “Lucas just got back from abroad unexpectedly, and it’s only for one day. Of course, I have to spend time with him.” Her voice trailed off, then I heard muffled kissing sounds through the receiver. A chorus of teasing laughter erupted in the background. I clutched my phone tightly and silently hung up. If she didn’t want to come home, then she shouldn’t expect to step foot in my house again.

Looking at the endless call log on my phone, I just felt ridiculous. I typed out a message to her: “Since you say this isn’t your home, let’s get a divorce.” My finger hovered over the send button for a few seconds, but I finally pressed it. Watching the message deliver, the seven years of frustration weighing on my heart suddenly lifted. The next morning, I was woken by my phone ringing. As soon as I answered, Sarah’s voice, thick with a hangover and anger, blasted through. “Leo Knight, it’s Christmas, of all days! What are you making a scene about now?” “It’s not like I did anything more than go out for a few drinks. Do you really have to bring up something as heavy as divorce on Christmas?” “I’m telling you, I’m not divorcing you. And don’t be so petty. Lucas’s wife never makes a fuss with him.” “Besides, didn’t I explain it to you last night? Lucas is only back from abroad for one day. I don’t get to see him any other time. What could we possibly be doing?” “You’re just overthinking things, I’m telling you…” I didn’t listen to her lengthy explanations, just hung up and got out of bed. Was I overthinking? Every Christmas, she’d find all sorts of excuses not to spend it with me. “Our old family home is too run-down.” “My parents want me this year.” “I absolutely have to go back and see my friends this year.” … To accommodate her, I’d gone back to her parents’ place with her every year for the holidays, leaving my own parents to celebrate alone. But every year, she’d leave me by myself at her parents’ house. She’d go out to parties alone. Claiming she was afraid I wouldn’t get along with her friends. There was even one time I waited for her until three in the morning. I kept calling and texting, but got no response. Worried something had happened, I sent her a message saying I was coming to look for her. But just as I stepped out, I ran into Lucas. He was carrying my drunken wife in his arms. “I was worried Sarah was being plied with too much alcohol, so I brought her back first.” He helped her into my arms, but she clung tightly to him, refusing to let go. He had to coax her repeatedly before she finally released him. I never imagined that the next day, she’d chew me out. “Who told you to interfere? Why were you rushing me? What kind of face did I have left in front of my friends?” “And making Lucas bring me back? Did you want him to freeze?” Now I realize that my going to look for her that night was nothing but an interruption to them, which was why she was so furious. I never thought this year she’d be so blatant. She just ditched me directly, ran into Lucas’s arms, and left my entire family waiting for her. And even made me listen to them flirting. Perhaps she’d been like this for seven years; this year, she was just too lazy to even find an excuse. A call from an unknown number pulled me out of my thoughts. I answered, and an unfamiliar woman’s voice spoke. “Are you Sarah Miller’s husband?” “Yes.” “I’m Chloe Thorne, Lucas’s wife. Let’s talk.”

“Lucas hasn’t had Christmas dinner at home a single time since we got married.” I listened to Chloe recount experiences so similar to my own. I couldn’t help but ask, “Were you planning to go abroad for Christmas this year?” “Not exactly.” She paused, then added, “But every year as Christmas approaches, Lucas buys flights abroad, only to cancel them later.” “Why?” Chloe was silent for a moment before speaking. “He claimed clients from abroad wanted to celebrate here, so he’d cancel his plans.” “So, he said his Christmas dinners were always with clients.” I suddenly remembered that every year after Christmas, Sarah would ask me to invest in certain projects. I asked Chloe what those projects were. I opened Sarah’s laptop and cross-referenced them, only to find they were all the same. “So, we’ve both been in the dark,” Chloe said calmly. “How did you find out?” I couldn’t help but be curious. She gave a faint smile. “Naturally, I looked into those projects he mentioned and found your wife’s name.” “Then, looking through his PayPal transaction history, I saw their chat messages in the memo field.” “That’s how I knew they were meeting up again this year.” “So, you called me because you’re planning…?” I idly played with my mouse, listening intently. “A partnership. We both get what we need.” “Then, it’s a pleasure doing business with you.” After hanging up, I copied all the project files from Sarah’s laptop. As I was checking for anything I might have missed, I noticed a huge file. I clicked on it, and it was full of nested folders. I tried opening them one by one, finally finding a locked file. I tried many passwords, but none worked. Just as I was about to give up and exit the folder, I noticed her laptop wallpaper. In the middle of a large heart, there was a prominent string of letters and numbers: ‘S520L’ I’d accidentally glimpsed her laptop once before, and she’d frantically covered it up. I thought she was just being shy. After all, I was foolish enough to believe this string of letters and numbers were the capitalized initials of our two names. But I never thought Lucas’s initial would also be ‘L’. I quickly typed in the password, and sure enough, it opened. I gave a bitter laugh internally. Even though I knew what would be inside, and I told myself I’d let her go, seeing her and Lucas’s records, I couldn’t stop the pain and hatred. The records were dense with details, big and small. Seven subfolders, one for each of the seven years. Though each year comprised only a few days, they took up a full 10GB. Year one: “Even though I married a man I didn’t love, I still keep the most important place in my heart for you. I’ll come back to be with you every Christmas. Love you, Lucas.” Year two: “I hate Leo’s touch. Only these few days at Christmas are when I truly feel comfortable, all thanks to Lucas.” Year three: “Leo was such a bother looking for me, forcing Lucas to take me home and wasting a night of intimacy with Lucas.” … I scrolled further and further, each entry more explicit. It felt like I was drowning in a river, unable to breathe. The last entry was from the day she abandoned me to go find Lucas alone. Sarah was celebrating. “Lucas really isn’t going abroad?!” “Good thing I found someone to cover my shift, otherwise I would have missed Lucas’s party.” “A six-hour drive is nothing, it’s all worth it for Lucas.” “No need to tell Leo, I didn’t want him to come with me anyway; he’d just get in our way.” There were also a few unmentionable selfies she’d taken. I clutched the mouse, blood draining from my face, my grip so tight I thought it would shatter. Enduring the sharp pain in my heart, I copied and backed up all the evidence. Just as I was about to grab a glass of water to compose myself, Sarah’s call came in. “Leo Knight, get in the car right now and bring my laptop over.”

I refused her without hesitation. Our old family home was over 300 miles from her parents’ place, a drive of at least six or seven hours. When I was pursuing Sarah years ago, I ignored my parents’ objections, determined to win her over even though she lived far away. So, I’d always make time and drive to see her. Whatever she needed, one call from her, and I’d drop everything to go to her. Everything revolved around her. Even if she just mentioned wanting an ice cream from the store downstairs. I’d willingly drive six hours to her place to buy it for her. Even if she took only one bite and threw it away, as long as she needed me, I had no complaints. Because I always believed that the woman who actively helped me to the hospital during my most vulnerable moment after a car accident must be kind and wonderful. From then on, I set my sights on her and pursued her relentlessly. For so many years, my kindness to her had become a habit. And she, naturally, had started taking these habits for granted as things I was supposed to do. So, she never considered how exhausted I’d be from the road, just like she’d tirelessly chase after Lucas. Through the receiver, my wife’s impatient voice came through. “Are you telling me I can’t even tell you what to do anymore?” “If you need it, you can come get it yourself,” I said, my voice flat. She exploded like a lit firecracker. “I’ll come get it? You know how far our old family home is from here, don’t you? Are you trying to kill me with exhaustion?” “Oh, so you know what exhaustion feels like? You didn’t seem tired driving to meet Lucas.” The other side fell silent for a moment, then she immediately hung up. I knew she wanted the laptop, no doubt to prepare Lucas’s contracts. It was even highly likely that Lucas was doing the contracts on her laptop. After all, Sarah rarely dealt with company projects herself; even though she was in the industry, she didn’t understand much. So it had to be Lucas handling them. I never thought that her asking me to bring her laptop home early this year would lead me to discover all this. But it was also possible she was afraid I’d discover the secrets on her laptop. That evening, my parents and I were watching a Christmas special. Sarah’s voice boomed from the doorway. She stormed in, full of anger, towards me. “Where’s my laptop? Where did you put it?” I was somewhat surprised she’d actually driven all that way back. Before I could speak, a male voice behind her piped up. “Sarah, no wonder you never want to spend Christmas here. If it were me, I wouldn’t either. It’s so primitive.” Lucas stood there with his hands in his pockets, glancing around with a look of disdain. My face instantly darkened. Our old family home wasn’t designed in a modern style; much of it retained its original, antique charm. But the furniture in the house consisted of priceless antique pieces. In Sarah’s eyes, however, they were just worthless old junk. Seeing I didn’t respond, Sarah felt embarrassed and stepped forward, tugging at my arm. “I’m talking to you! Did you hear me?” I scoffed, shaking off her hand. “Not only did I hear you, I saw you.” My eyes fixed on Lucas. Seeing the hostility in my gaze, Sarah immediately stepped in front of him. “Lucas came because he was worried about me coming back alone. He’s just here to keep me company.” “I also wanted to introduce you. He was the manager for all those projects we partnered on before. You can talk to him about investment opportunities.” I didn’t respond directly, just sat on the couch, not even raising my head. “You came back and said all that nonsense. Did you even say hello to my parents?” She froze, only then noticing my parents sitting beside me. This was only her second time meeting my parents. Sarah reluctantly turned her face, glanced at Lucas, and mumbled a “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Knight” to my parents. My parents’ happy faces instantly stiffened. We had been married for seven years. She had only addressed my parents as “Mr. and Mrs. Knight” twice. Other times, she simply demanded money from my parents without any form of address. I scoffed, looking at her with cold eyes. “If you don’t want to call them Mom and Dad, then don’t.” She thought I was indulging her yet again, and a triumphant smile bloomed on her face. But she didn’t expect me to take the divorce papers from the cabinet and hand them to her. “They’re not your parents, and this isn’t your home. Sign them.”

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