When I had a miscarriage after a car accident, Liam Lennick was picking up his ex-girlfriend’s child. Seeing me bleeding profusely on the ground, he merely covered the little girl’s eyes, saying with utter disgust, “Lexi, don’t look. It’s absolutely filthy.” That night, a thunderstorm raged. His ex-girlfriend cried on the phone, and he didn’t hesitate to drive to her house. The next day, I signed the divorce papers and called my lawyer. “I’m certain about the divorce. Let’s proceed with the asset division.” 1 “Liam, I’m scared…” A woman’s faint sobs drifted from the balcony. Liam Lennick lit a cigarette, his handsome brows furrowed. Even with the storm raging outside, he preferred to stand on the cold, damp balcony, talking to another woman on the phone. “Just wait, don’t be afraid, I’ll be there soon.” He quickly hung up, stubbing out the cigarette. Coming in from the balcony, he saw me lying weakly in bed. He said coldly, “Audrey, stop faking it. The doctor said you only have a few scrapes, why are you pretending to be dead?” I lowered my eyes, my fingers curling weakly. Yes, my legs had scrapes. But the miscarriage, that was a child truly lost. I had only half-finished speaking on the phone when he impatiently cut me off. “Anyway, it’s fine as long as you’re okay. I’m still driving.” From the other end of the line, a girl’s cheerful voice could be heard asking, “Uncle Liam, is this mousse cake for Mom?” Before the man could answer, he hung up with a series of beeps. The words, “I had a miscarriage,” remained stuck in my throat, unspoken. Mousse cake, it must be very sweet. This morning, when I found the customized mousse cake on the table, I naively thought it was a gift from him to end our months-long cold war. But he just slapped my hand away. “Who told you to touch it? This is for a friend.” It wasn’t for me. It was for that “friend.” And who could that friend be, if not his divorced ex-girlfriend? When we first started dating, he knew I loved mousse cake. He would insist on buying from the most expensive shop in the city every day. After almost a month, I finally got tired of it and asked him to stop. He dotingly licked the cream from the corner of my mouth, pinching my cheek. “I have money to buy it, are you afraid of getting fat? I’ll love you even if you weigh 200 pounds.” Five years into our marriage, I rarely ate sweets, only to maintain my figure, so he wouldn’t change his mind. But if he didn’t love me anymore, would he care if I got fat? Now, let alone mousse cake, he would find it too much effort even to brew me a bowl of medicine. My thoughts returned to the present. Liam’s tone was still impatient. “Also, Lexi is just a child. You were bleeding so much. What if she saw it and got scared?” I endured the pain in my lower abdomen, a faint smile on my lips. “Yes, it’s a shame you’re not Lexi’s father, otherwise you’d probably want to kick me a couple more times.” Liam walked to my bedside. He forcefully swiped the bowl off my nightstand. The bowl shattered on the floor, spilling the medicine the doctor prescribed for my miscarriage. He suppressed his anger. “Audrey, don’t push your luck.” I continued to smile at him, saying coolly, “Mr. Lennick, aren’t you leaving?” Liam paused, surprised. “What?” “The thunder is so loud, your friend must be truly terrified.” The anger on Liam’s face flickered. Finally, he gave a sinister laugh. “Audrey, if you weren’t injured, I’d rip your mouth off.” I didn’t respond. But as he opened the door to leave, he coldly added, “Don’t wait up for me tonight. Just close the windows tightly when it thunders.” Yes, I used to be afraid of thunder too. Hiding in his arms would only lead to him pushing me away and calling me melodramatic. Yet, on this stormy night, Lisa Harris would receive his tender, whispered comfort. 2 The next day, when I arrived at the office, the atmosphere was strangely odd. As I went to get coffee, I overheard two young women whispering in the breakroom: “Mr. Lennick is too much. He berated and fired the assistant Ms. Lennick assigned, then brought someone else in.” “Yeah, Ms. Lennick’s protégé had excellent qualifications and capabilities. He was definitely better than that woman who can’t even use Excel.” “I heard that woman is divorced with a child, but she’s Mr. Lennick’s ex-girlfriend, so she didn’t even need an interview to start work.” “Ex-girlfriend? Even an ex-girlfriend shouldn’t be like that! Business is business, personal is personal. Ms. Lennick and Mr. Lennick have been married for five years, and she’s never been as shameless as that woman!” My hand, holding the cup, suddenly lost its grip. The cup clattered to the floor with a thud. It didn’t shatter, but the coffee spilled everywhere, filling the air with its bitter aroma. “Ms. Lennick!” The two interns finally noticed me, their faces sheepish. Their eyes, however, betrayed pity and sympathy for me. In that moment, I felt a faint ache in my abdomen again. I smiled softly, waving them off. “I’m fine. You two go back to work.” Back at my desk, I opened my alt account on social media. Lisa Harris had posted a side profile of a man, clearly looking serious at work. The caption read: “First day working with the big boss, made a small mistake but got spoiled by him! Thanks, big boss!” Liam Lennick replied below: “Work hard, and there’ll be a reward after work.” I casually ‘liked’ the post. Right after, Liam called. I answered. “Audrey, there’s a small issue with Mr. Miller’s client. Go handle it.” My tone was flat. “Isn’t Charles supposed to handle client relations? Did he mess up?” His voice on the other end was slightly annoyed. “Why so many questions? Charles was as dense as a brick, so I fired him. He dropped his work halfway and left, so aren’t you supposed to clean up his mess?” I scoffed. Whose mess was I cleaning up, exactly? More like cleaning up that woman’s mess. My heart felt heavy. I almost impulsively wanted to run into his office and confront him, but the thought of seeing that woman in his office filled me with irritation. I replied calmly. “Liam, I don’t feel well. I want to go home.” He paused. He probably hadn’t expected a strong woman like me, who would stay at her desk even with a fever or stomach ache, to say she wasn’t feeling well and wanted to go home. He let out a cold snort. “It’s just a minor car accident, a few scrapes. Still being melodramatic! Don’t you want that big contract from Mr. Miller?” I softly hummed. “No, I don’t. Money isn’t as important as my health.” “Audrey!” I hung up. At the same moment, Liam angrily kicked open his office door. I had already packed my bag and was ready to leave. Liam strode to my desk, questioning coldly, “Did I give you permission to leave?” “Mr. Lennick, I’m also a director. Why can’t I leave when I’m not feeling well?” Suddenly, numerous eyes focused on us. Liam felt his pride wounded. He pulled me into his office. From a corner, a woman’s surprised gasp. “Mr. Lennick, what’s wrong?” I looked at Lisa Harris, forcefully pulling my hand free from Liam’s grip. Liam’s voice softened. “Lisa, please step outside for a moment. I need to speak with Director Lennick.” Lisa’s eyes darted between us. She slowly walked to Liam’s side, clinging to his arm like a delicate bird. “Oh, Liam, don’t be angry! If Director Lennick has a work problem, we can solve it later! If she’s not feeling well, just let her go home and rest. The company won’t be without people if she’s gone…” Liam’s expression softened considerably at her sweet voice. Ignoring my presence, he playfully flicked Lisa’s nose. “You, you’re just too soft-hearted.” Then, turning to me, his face hardened again. “Since Assistant Harris is making excuses for you, then get out.” On the way home, I bought a mousse cake. Sitting in the car, I ate the cake bite by bite. The cake was indeed sweet, slowly neutralizing the bitterness in my heart. It turned out that the cake I bought for myself was just as sweet. But it was a truth I only understood now. 3 When I returned home, it was already late. Liam still wasn’t back. My mother, however, called. Her voice was as warm as ever. “Audrey, how are you and your husband doing these days?” I looked at the document in my hand, momentarily speechless. It was a divorce agreement. Her voice on the other end was still filled with warmth. “I wonder if you two will come visit us for the holidays this year. I’ve prepared so many of your favorite dishes!” “And also, when will you give me a grandson or granddaughter? Your father and I are so bored staying at home all day. How wonderful it would be to have a grandchild…” Suddenly, my nose stung. Neither a grandson nor a granddaughter. The child’s father would rather save another woman’s child than his own. It was that child’s misfortune not to come into this world. But perhaps it was for the best; if he came into this world, he would have to compete with other children for his father. Better not to come at all. “Mom, if I get a divorce, will you blame me?” Mom was silent for a long while. Finally, she asked cautiously, “Did you two argue? Spouses fight, but they always make up…” “No, there’s no turning back this time. Mom, will you blame me?” Mom sighed deeply. “I won’t blame you. All I want is for you to be happy. If you’re not happy, what’s the point of being married?” I laughed then. Tears streamed down my cheeks, wetting the dimples formed by my smile. “Okay.” I signed the divorce agreement and called my lawyer. “I’ve decided to divorce. Let’s proceed with property division.” As soon as I hung up, Liam called again. “Audrey, I’ve been drinking. I can’t drive. Come pick me up!” He bossed me around as if I were his personal assistant. Just bear with it a little longer, Audrey. From the other end of the line, there was another sickly sweet female voice. “Liam, it’s all your fault! Lexi hasn’t been picked up yet. She must be so scared…” Liam apologized to her, then said to me coldly, “Pick up Lexi on your way. It’s on your route anyway.” I softly said okay. At the school gate, I picked up Lisa Harris’s child. She sat in the passenger seat, expressionless, too mature for a child. “You’re Uncle Liam’s wife, aren’t you?” Lexi asked, feigning casualness. I smiled, counter-questioning, “Why, do you want to be Uncle Liam’s child?” The underlying meaning: Do you want Lisa Harris to be my husband’s wife? Lexi choked for a moment. I lightly tapped the steering wheel. “Kid, you’re not as smart as your mother. At least your mother is better at pretending to be dumb, and men just love to depend on their dumb women.” Lexi looked a bit embarrassed and raised her voice. “So what? Uncle Liam likes my mom!” I narrowed my eyes. “Kids are just naive. Liking someone doesn’t put food on the table.” I thought of the divorce agreement, where the property division was crystal clear. If we divorced, I wouldn’t lose out. On the contrary, Liam would lose both wealth and people. Lexi pouted, annoyed for the entire ride. I didn’t bother arguing with a child and had her wait in the lobby outside the private room. Just as I reached the door of the private room, I heard Lisa Harris’s sweet, soft voice. “Liam, you have a sensitive stomach, drink less…” Liam’s voice was deep and hoarse, a lazy, drunken chuckle. “What, you’re worried about me? Kiss me, and I’ll stop drinking.” Liam had Lisa sit on his lap. Seeing her shyness, he laughed and leaned in to kiss her lips. The two lingered for a long time before finally separating. I pushed the door open, startling both of them. Liam’s face was annoyed, but he didn’t push Lisa, who was still nestled against his chest, away. The private room was dimly lit. I placed the divorce agreement on the table in front of him. “A small company project. Just sign it.” Liam was somewhat drunk, his handsome brows tightly furrowed. He took the pen from my hand, signed it casually without even looking. “So annoying. Couldn’t you have waited until tomorrow at the office for me to sign it?” As I was leaving, Lisa called out to me. “Thank you, Director Lennick, for picking up Lexi for me. Usually, Liam… Mr. Lennick helps with pickups and drop-offs, but today he had to discuss business, so I troubled you.” Her words sounded like a wife thanking her subordinate for helping with her child. Lisa knew I was Liam Lennick’s wife, yet she deliberately spoke with such subtle malice. But my heart was already calm. From this moment on, I was no longer Liam Lennick’s wife. I was free. “Ms. Harris, I hope you enjoy the trash someone else didn’t want.” I pretended not to see her ashen face and turned to leave.

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“Garret, that woman’s face, after getting burned saving Lyra… it’s going to be so grotesque to look at.” Outside the hospital room, the brother’s jest was entirely undisguised. Garret Winters exhaled a puff of smoke, his voice dripping with undisguised disgust. “Ghastly. One look is enough to make me sick.” “If it wasn’t to ensure Lyra’s safe escape, why would I lie and tell her to rush into the fire? Once Lyra’s tour is over, a fat check will be enough to send that woman away.” The agonizing pain of changing the dressings on my severely burned back couldn’t compare to Garret Winters’s flippant words at that moment. I touched the blood seeping through the bandages on my face, forcing back tears. To save his beloved, I became this? I pulled out the IV needle from the back of my hand, dragging my injured body towards the heavily guarded, exclusive ward of the Sterling Corporation at the top floor of the hospital. The two well-dressed bodyguards at the door, seeing my appearance, immediately turned red-eyed. They straightened their backs and bowed deeply. “Chairman, the Young Miss has been found!” I leaned weakly against the wall, my voice cold. “Dad, take me back to the estate. It’s time for the Winters Group to disappear.” 1 The hospital room door was violently pulled open from the inside. My father, Chairman Sterling, rushed in. The moment he saw me, this decisive titan of the business world, the chairman of the Sterling Corporation, his eyes instantly welled up. Father extended his hands. They trembled uncontrollably, wanting to touch me, yet afraid to. I was draped in an oversized hospital gown, and the blood and bodily fluids seeping from my back had soaked through the fabric. Half of my face was wrapped in bandages, revealing only one eye. “Iris…” Father’s throat emitted a hoarse sound. “Who did this?” I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. Excessive blood loss coupled with a severe infection made my vision begin to blacken. My legs grew weak. I fell forward. Father caught me in his arms. The place where he touched me was scalding hot with blood. The chief bodyguard beside him, eyes red, clenched his fists. “Chairman, I’ll go cripple that beast!” Chairman Sterling gritted his teeth, veins bulging on his forehead. “Summon the top global medical team, now!” I completely lost consciousness. In my delirium, the thick smoke from the fire again filled my nostrils. When the beam crashed down, Garret Winters had grabbed my shoulder and violently shoved me into the inferno. Using that recoil, he tightly shielded Lyra and rolled out of the burning building. Flames licked at my back. The smell of burning flesh filled my mind. I convulsed in pain, suddenly opening my eyes. I saw the ceiling of the Sterling Private Hospital’s exclusive ward. The wound on my back had been cleaned and covered with top-grade burn dressings. But that piercing pain still crept upwards through my bones. Father sat by the bed, his eyes red. Seeing me awake, he immediately stood up. “Iris, does it still hurt?” I shook my head. My phone screen lit up. It was a message from Garret Winters. I stared at the familiar name for a second. I reached out and tapped it open. Two voice messages popped up. I tapped the first one. Garret Winters’s impatient voice echoed in the room. “Amy Winters, where have you gone?” “Lyra’s appetite isn’t good tonight. She wants the dried scallop porridge from that old establishment in South City.” “Your injuries aren’t serious. Stop pretending to be dead in bed and go buy a serving and send it to room 802.” Father’s face darkened, his fists clenching. I expressionlessly opened the second message. “And.” “Wear a hood when you come. Cover that face of yours.” “You’re ghastly now. Don’t scare Lyra.” The voice messages finished playing. The room was silent. I looked at the screen, my eyes devoid of any ripple. Something in my chest was completely empty. I removed the SIM card from my phone. With both hands, I snapped the card in half and threw it into the trash can. I threw back the covers, propping myself up on the edge of the bed, trying to stand. Father pressed down on my shoulder. “You have severe full-body burns. The doctor said getting out of bed now could be life-threatening!” I looked up, meeting my father’s eyes. “Dad, I need to go downstairs.” “The jade pendant my mother left behind, I left it in room 802.” “That is the symbol of the Sterling Corporation’s matriarch.” “I must retrieve it myself.” Chairman Sterling stared at me for a long time. He released his grip. Turning, he took a black cashmere trench coat from the hanger and draped it over my shoulders. “Go.” “I’ll be right behind you.” I pulled the trench coat tighter, dragging my heavy legs, step by step, out of the exclusive ward. The elevator display at the end of the corridor flickered, stopping on the eighth floor. 2 The eighth-floor general ward area reeked of disinfectant mixed with cheap perfume. I walked to the door of room 802, which used to be mine. Laughter emanated from within. I raised my hand and pushed the door open. The bed sheets had been changed to pink silk, Lyra’s favorite color. Lyra, wearing a silk nightgown I had just bought but hadn’t had a chance to wear, leaned in Garret’s arms. He was peeling a grape, feeding it to her. Hearing the door open, both turned simultaneously. Seeing my face, wrapped in bandages and oozing blood, Lyra shrieked, startled, burrowing deeper into Garret’s embrace. “Garret, it’s terrifying! Why does she look so horrifying?” Garret abruptly stood up. The grape in his hand fell to the floor, crushed under his foot. Garret strode over, pointing at my nose and cursing. “Amy Winters, why are you running around? Don’t you know you’re ghastly right now?” “Didn’t I tell you to wear a hood? If you scare Lyra, can you afford the consequences?” I ignored him. My gaze swept past his shoulder, fixing on the jade pendant hanging around Lyra’s neck. Its edge was slightly blackened by the smoke from the fire. Engraved on it were my mother’s name and the Sterling family crest. I took a deep breath, my voice hoarse. “Give me back my property.” Lyra instinctively covered the jade pendant on her chest, her eyes instantly reddening, tears welling up. “Garret, this is the vintage necklace you gave me yesterday. I love it so much. Why is Amy trying to snatch my things?” Garret frowned, his eyes filled with disgust. He shoved my shoulder. “It’s just a broken piece of stone. It’s your honor that Lyra took a liking to it. I’ll transfer the money to you, just don’t make a scene!” Garret’s push was forceful. I was already weak, and with that shove, I stumbled backward, hitting the doorframe hard. The newly stitched wound split open. Blood gushed out, staining the hospital gown under my trench coat, dripping onto the floor from the hem. Drip. Drop. The hospital room filled with the scent of blood. Garret saw the bloodstains on the floor, showing no sympathy whatsoever. Instead, he covered his nose, recoiling a large step back in disgust. “How unlucky! She’s ruined the floor!” “Amy Winters, are you sick? Are you deliberately running to Lyra just to play the victim?” Lyra sat up from the bed. She tugged at Garret’s sleeve. “Garret, don’t blame Amy. She must be upset, being like this. Even if she used to serve us like a maid at home, it’s normal for her to have a bad temper now that she’s disfigured.” I leaned against the doorframe, cold sweat drenching the few remaining strands of hair on my forehead. I looked at Garret Winters. “That’s my mother’s relic. Hand it over.” Garret sneered. “You, an orphan who doesn’t even know who her parents are, where would you get relics from?” “I think your brain got burned, and you’re obsessed with money.” Garret stepped forward, grabbing my collar. “Apologize to Lyra immediately, then get out and clean up the blood on the floor!” Noises of footsteps echoed from the corridor outside. 3 Several people entered from outside the door, all friends Garret usually associated with. The one in front even carried a fruit basket. Seeing me, covered in blood and leaning against the doorframe, they paused, then burst into laughter. “Well, Garret, old man, the wife’s look is quite unique, isn’t it? Halloween came early? With her face wrapped up like a mummy, aren’t you afraid of nightmares when the lights are off at night?” Garret released my collar, clapping his hands as if to shake off something dirty. “Don’t even mention it. Bad luck. I sent her to buy a bowl of porridge, but she had to come here and scare Lyra.” One of them walked to the bedside, putting down the fruit basket. He gave Lyra a fawning smile. “Sister Lyra, you’ve been startled. The wife is also clueless, she should stay in her room after disfiguring herself. What’s she doing wandering around?” Lyra lowered her head, looking utterly wronged. Lyra picked up a freshly brewed hot tea from the nightstand. “Amy, don’t be angry. Have some tea to warm yourself up.” Lyra’s foot suddenly tripped. The scalding hot tea, along with the tea leaves, splashed directly onto my bleeding shoulder and chest. I let out a cry of pain. Piercing agony instantly shot through me. The hot water scalded the freshly torn wound. I grunted, my legs giving out. I fell to one knee on the floor, cold sweat pouring from my body. Lyra shrieked, the empty cup in her hand falling to the floor and shattering. “I’m sorry, Amy, I didn’t mean it. You were staring at me earlier, I was so scared I couldn’t hold it steady…” Lyra cried, throwing herself into Garret’s arms. Garret embraced Lyra protectively, patting her back. He turned, his eyes dark and menacing, staring at me. Garret raised his foot, kicking the IV stand next to me. The metal stand toppled, striking my back. I was knocked to the floor. “Amy Winters, how dare you scare her! Are you trying to die?” I lay on the floor, my nails digging into the tiles. Blood and tea mixed, spreading across the floor. I looked up at the man I had once loved with my life. I watched him trample my dignity and my flesh underfoot for another woman. I coldly uttered two words: “Divorce.” The hospital room fell silent for a moment. Garret stared blankly, then chuckled in anger. “Divorce?” “Amy Winters, what do you have to divorce me with?” Garret pointed at me condescendingly. “You’re an orphan with no parents, no decent job. Without me, you can’t even afford the medical bills for these severe burns!” Someone next to him chimed in. “Exactly, Amy, old man. Garret is a CEO worth hundreds of millions now. If you leave him, with your ghastly face, no one would even give you a dime if you begged on the streets!” Garret walked up to me, his dress shoe stepping on the blood-stained hem of my coat. “Apologize to Lyra on your knees right now. Beg her forgiveness for scaring her. Otherwise, I’ll stop your medication immediately and leave you to rot in the streets!” Garret bent down, reaching for my hair. 4 I suppressed the agonizing, tearing pain in my back, supporting myself with my blood-soaked hands on the tiles, slowly standing up. I slapped away Garret Winters’s outstretched hand, a cold sneer on my lips. “Make me kneel? Can you even handle it?” I stared intently at the jade pendant on Lyra’s neck. “That pendant bears the name of the Sterling family’s matriarch.” “Doesn’t Lyra fear shortening her lifespan by wearing it?” Hearing the words “Sterling family,” the people in the room froze for a moment. Then, they burst into even louder laughter. One person bent over, laughing. “Sterling family? The corporation that controls the global economic lifeline?” “I can’t anymore! The wife’s brain is really fried!” “If you’re the Young Miss of the Sterling Corporation, then I’m the richest man in the world!” Lyra hid behind Garret, timidly speaking, “Garret, is Amy having a mental breakdown? Maybe we should send her to a mental institution. It’s too dangerous to leave her out here.” Garret lost his patience. His face livid, he strode up to me, grabbed the few remaining strands of unburned hair on my head, and forcefully pushed my head down. “Today, I’ll teach you what discipline means!” A loud crash. The solid wooden door of the hospital room was kicked to splinters from the outside. Wood chips flew. The people nearby shrieked in fear, covering their heads and crouching down. Two rows of bodyguards in black suits and Bluetooth earpieces surged in, instantly sealing off the entire room. The air in the room solidified at that moment. Lyra’s legs went weak with fear, collapsing onto the floor. Garret’s hand, clutching my hair, froze in mid-air. His face was ashen, his body trembling. Heavy, authoritative footsteps sounded from the corridor. One step. Two steps. Father, in a tailored suit, wore the crest pin of the family patriarch on his chest. He stepped over the shattered wood, striding into the room. An aura of immense power emanated from him. Father’s cold, stern gaze swept across the room, finally settling on Garret’s hand, still clutching my hair. Father spoke each word distinctly, his voice echoing through the room. “Who did you call a low-bred bastard?”

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On my wedding anniversary, I slapped my sister Summer and she miscarried. Everyone called me a monster. “You must pay for what you’ve done.” My husband Tom and my parents forced me to sign divorce papers, then sent me to a detention center. I was released on Tom and Summer’s wedding day. I didn’t make a scene. I took a train and vanished. … Seven years later. We met outside a rural ER. Tom was there with his wife, who was threatening to miscarry. I was the doctor on duty. “Audrey?” He froze, eyes locking on the scar across my palm. “You…” He trailed off under my calm, detached gaze. “Family, wait outside.” My voice was professional, empty. After the emergency, I explained the aftercare. Tom nodded, distracted. Then he asked, “Why didn’t you come home? We were worried.” A child’s voice cut in behind me. “Mommy, I’m hungry.” Tom stared at the little face—so like his own—and his eyes reddened. “Is she…” 1 Just then, a nurse called for me. I gave Tom a polite nod, took my daughter’s fair little hand, and quickly left. “Mommy, who was that uncle just now?” My daughter looked back curiously. My voice was flat. “A patient’s family member.” “He seemed to be crying, and he kept looking at us.” I didn’t stop walking. “You saw wrong.” The nanny who usually looked after my daughter had an emergency, so I had no choice but to bring my daughter to the hospital. Thankfully, the nanny just called me. Her task was done, and she would be right over to pick up the child. That evening, emergencies kept coming in. I was busy until late into the night before I finally dragged my tired body back to my office. I hadn’t expected Tom to be waiting at the door. I frowned slightly. “Mr. Robbins, is there anything else?” The overly formal address made Tom falter for a moment. “Mr. Robbins, rest assured, Mrs. Robbins’s condition is not serious. After observing her overnight, if there are no issues, she can be discharged tomorrow morning.” My tone was no different from how I spoke to other patients’ families. Perhaps the words “Mrs. Robbins” struck a nerve. I clearly saw Tom’s eyes redden, emotions churning. It was as if he had a thousand words to say, but his lips quivered twice, and in the end, he only managed to say two words in a muffled voice: “Thank you.” “If Mr. Robbins has nothing else, I’m going off duty. If you need anything, you can find other doctors on call.” I nodded slightly, turning to leave. As I passed the nurses’ station, a young nurse gossiped, grabbing my arm. “Dr. Sterling, was that Mr. Tom Robbins, the most famous lawyer in Southwood?” I nodded. “Yes.” “I heard Mr. Robbins has never lost a case since he started practicing. He’s known as a legend in the entire legal world.” “Handsome, gentle, and wealthy. Mrs. Robbins must be so happy. I heard they came this time to pray for the baby in Mrs. Robbins’s belly.” As the young nurse spoke, her eyes were filled with undisguised admiration for Tom and undisguised envy for Mrs. Robbins. I smiled, saying nothing. The current Mrs. Robbins was indeed very happy. She had a loving husband, doting parents, and a baby on the way. She truly had everything. Almost no one knew she was the mistress who took the wife’s place. My phone vibrated, bringing me back to reality. [Sorry, an emergency came up at the company. I’ll be late picking you up.] I subtly curled my lips and replied: [You go ahead. I’ll take a cab home.] Almost immediately after I sent the message, I received a reply: [Be careful on the way. Remember to text me when you get home.] Putting my phone away, I noticed that snow had started to fall outside at some point. I waited for a long time, but my ride-sharing app remained unanswered. “Beep beep!” A car horn sounded behind me. A black Porsche Cayenne slowly pulled up beside me. I recognized it as Tom’s car at a glance. Only because his license plate number was my sister Summer’s birthday. And my birthday was only one day after Summer’s. The passenger window slowly lowered, revealing Tom’s sharply defined jawline. “Get in. I’ll give you a ride.” Looking at the ride-sharing app still spinning, I only thought for a few seconds before opening the back door and getting in, then stating my apartment complex’s name. I was truly tired today and wanted to get home to rest early. And with the sudden change in weather, the scars on my palm and abdomen were aching and itching. Since there was a ready car, why not take it? Tom had a strong sense of territory. I once wanted to put a small ornament in his car, but it wasn’t allowed. Now, the car was filled with Summer’s favorite gardenia scent. Everything in sight was Summer’s favorite pink decor. Seeing me sitting in the back, Tom gave a self-deprecating smile. “Are you really treating me like a chauffeur?” My voice was flat. “Just didn’t want your wife to misunderstand.” The words “your wife” acted like a mute spell. Whatever Tom wanted to say next was swallowed back. The car plunged into a suffocating silence. 2 I said no more, turning my head to look out the window. The changing light outside flashed, and in a daze, I found myself recalling that day seven years ago. The darkest day of my life. It was my third wedding anniversary with Tom. I, away on a business trip, had flown back overnight, wanting to surprise him. Instead, I accidentally stumbled upon Tom and my sister Summer’s affair. They were in my marital home, on my marital bed, engaged in passionate lovemaking. Both were so engrossed that they didn’t notice me standing at the door for a long time. Until Summer inadvertently turned her head. “Audrey!” Summer’s eyes widened, and she shrieked. I thought Tom, caught in the act, would at least be ashamed, if not panicked. But I was wrong. Tom didn’t rush to explain himself to me. Instead, he gently covered Summer with the blanket, hiding the glaring, intimate marks on her body. “You weren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow?” Tom, far from feeling guilty, spoke with a tone of blame. At that time, my temper was fiery, unable to tolerate even a speck of dirt. In that instant, resentment and fury almost burned away my sanity. I became hysterical, like a madwoman, attacking them with the most venomous words, smashing everything I could in the room. The room was a mess. Summer, terrified, cowered behind Tom, trembling. “Audrey, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it. Tom and I just couldn’t help ourselves.” Summer’s voice was distinctly tearful. At that moment, her eyes were misty, like a delicate white lotus, innocent and helpless. She was completely different from the passionate, uninhibited woman in bed just moments before. Tom protectively shielded Summer behind him, looking at me with condemnation. “You scared Summer!” “Look at you now. What’s the difference between you and a madwoman?” I also felt like I was insane. I sent photos and videos of Summer and Tom to the family group chat. I wanted everyone to see their ugly faces. Who knew, just as the video was sent, my parents’ scolding calls came in. “Audrey Sterling, have you gone mad?” “Quickly recall those photos and videos! If others see them, how will Summer ever show her face again?” My parents had always favored Summer, ever since she was abducted on the street as a child. She wasn’t found until she was eighteen. To make up for years of absence, my parents were exceptionally indulgent and doting towards her. They even demanded that I always defer to my sister, and that Summer should always come first. Even our birthdays, because mine was only one day after Summer’s, my parents insisted that I celebrate a day early with her. But the birthday cake always had only Summer’s name on it. But I never expected that even in this matter, my parents would unconditionally defend Summer. “You and Tom should divorce.” My sister was having an affair with my husband behind my back. My parents not only didn’t blame her but forcefully demanded that Tom and I divorce. “Why?” I questioned unwillingly. Summer was clearly the one at fault, so why should I give my husband to her? My parents’ bias had no bounds. My chest felt crushed by a huge rock, making it hard to breathe, almost suffocating. “Summer is your sister. As an older sister, you should defer to her.” Apparently dissatisfied with my obvious question, Mom frowned, her tone extremely impatient. I instinctively looked at Tom, at the man I had once loved more than life itself. However, Tom just looked at me coldly, with no intention of explaining anything. Summer leaned weakly into Tom’s arms. “Audrey, Tom doesn’t love you anymore. We’re truly in love. Please, let us be.” “So you know he’s your brother-in-law?” “Do you have any sense of propriety or shame?” Enraged, I slapped Summer hard. 3 Summer swayed, hitting a nearby coffee table. “Ugh—” Summer cried out in pain, clutching her lower abdomen, her face a mask of agony. “Summer!” Tom’s expression changed abruptly. “My stomach, my stomach hurts so much.” Summer’s face was ashen, her voice trembling. Tom scooped up Summer and rushed towards the hospital. As he passed me, his eyes were as fierce as if I had committed some heinous crime. But I knew perfectly well that Summer had clearly thrown herself against it. It was then that I realized Summer and Tom had been secretly involved for a long time and that she was already pregnant. After several hours of treatment, the child still couldn’t be saved. “Are you satisfied now?” Father’s face was flushed red, furious. He raised his hand and slapped me hard across the face. This slap, Father used all his strength. My cheek burned, and my eardrum buzzed. However, the physical pain was less than a fraction of the pain in my heart. Everyone blamed me for causing Summer to lose her child, forcing me to kowtow and apologize to Summer. Of course, I wouldn’t agree. The consequence of my stubbornness was that Tom and my parents successively pressured the hospital where I worked, revoking my eligibility for promotion. My imminent promotion thus fell through. They even used this as leverage, forcing me to sign the divorce agreement. Subsequently, I was collectively sent to a detention center by the three people closest to me. “If you do something wrong, you must accept the punishment.” “We’ll pick you up when you realize your mistake.” I smiled bitterly in my heart. Home? What home did I have left? The moment I discovered Tom and Summer’s affair, my home was gone. Once inside, I was maliciously targeted. I ate stale food and drank swill. I also frequently suffered unprovoked beatings… While I was being tortured to the point of wishing for death, my husband and my parents were traveling abroad with my sister. It wasn’t until a month later, when they returned, that they heard I had almost died inside. After a full eight hours of emergency treatment, I was pulled back from the brink of death. When Tom and my parents rushed to the hospital, I had already been sent back to my room. However, seeing me on the bed, emaciated and unrecognizable from the torment, Tom’s first words were: “Do you realize your mistake now?” “Don’t forget you still owe Summer an apology. Use this time to recover and think about how you’re going to apologize to her. Because of you, Summer has been very upset and almost suffered from depression.” Tom’s voice was cold and hard, his tone so indifferent as if I were just an unimportant stranger. They say there’s no greater sorrow than a dead heart. If my heart died when Tom and my parents sent me to the detention center, then after hearing Tom’s words just now, my heart died even more completely. In that moment, I lost all desire to argue. My tone was flat, devoid of any emotion: “I realized my mistake!” I was wrong. Wrong for being blind in love, falling for a cold-hearted, ruthless man like Tom. Wrong for foolishly expecting love from my parents, even knowing their blatant favoritism. Tom occasionally glanced at me through the rearview mirror, several times appearing to want to speak but stopping himself. It wasn’t until the car stopped at the entrance of the apartment complex that I opened the door, got out, and politely said, “Thank you.” Just as I turned to leave, Tom finally couldn’t help but call out, “Audrey!” I stopped, turned around, and quietly waited for him to continue. “Why are you living in a place like this?” “These past few years, have you… not been doing well?” Tom spoke while looking around the neighborhood. The lights were dim, the rickety iron gate rusty. The building exterior was mottled and dilapidated. His eyes were red-rimmed, his voice hoarse: “Do you want me to help you…” “No, I’m doing very well. Thank you for your concern.” I didn’t understand. The man who had been so cruel and heartless towards me, who forced me to divorce him and sent me to prison, why was he now acting so genuinely concerned?

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1 Talent, it just doesn’t make sense sometimes. My mom, a world-class pianist, but my playing sounds like a bag of cotton balls. My dad, an uncrowned king of opera, but I can’t hit a single note in tune. My older sister, she composed a piece at six and had her solo concert at nine. Meanwhile, I was bawling my eyes out because my music teacher mocked me. Even our pet parrot can belt out La Traviata flawlessly. Luckily, this tone-deaf mess is still the family’s darling. I’ve become exceptionally good at just… chilling. On my eighteenth birthday, a young prodigy, fresh off winning the Junior Piano Gold Prize, publicly demanded a DNA test. He claimed I was a fraud, a cuckoo in the nest, and he was the real son. I knew it! I always felt like such an outsider; turns out, there was no blood connection at all! … Ever since I could remember, I thought I was the family’s balance. Everyone else had perfect pitch, but I was the lone discordant note in a symphony of talent—born with absolute tone-deafness. My mom, Rosalind, a genius pianist who debuted at six and won awards at sixteen. She could make a broken, out-of-tune piano sound perfect. My dad, Liam, was revered as a top tenor in both the East and West, once shattering a glass with his voice in a documentary. My sister, Lyra, a born composer, could instantly replicate anything she heard, then improvise on it. And me, Leo, truly unworthy of the ‘Leo’ (meaning ‘sound’ in a poetic way, though not directly in English) in my name. Just as I’d grown accustomed to being treated with affectionate pity, like a disabled loved one, a little hero descended upon us. “Get out! I’m the real Leo! I’m the true son of the Forester family!” Caleb stood at the side gate of our villa garden, one hand clutching the confession of a recently apprehended kidnapper, the other holding his phone, playing a recording from a competition he’d won last month. “The National Junior Piano Gold Prize! Vacant for two years, and I won it! I’m the true member of this family!” He glared, teeth clenched, at me, standing by the fountain, eating cake. For a moment, the cake in my mouth tasted even sweeter. See? I knew there was something off! I was never a Forester by blood! The air in the garden thickened. Dad, who was sipping a throat-soothing herbal tea, preparing to sing, set his cup down, his lips pressed into a thin line. Mom, laughing and chatting with students and teachers, turned, her eyes narrowing slightly. Lyra, seated under a tree, immersed in composition, put down her pen and rose, taking a deep breath. Caleb, assuming everyone was stunned and overjoyed, a smile bloomed on his face: “Dad, Mom, Lyra, that kidnapper snuck into the hospital and stole me away. Then, an unmarried pregnant girl found out, kept quiet, and swapped her own baby in.” “So, the fake Leo is tone-deaf. He doesn’t have our family’s genes at all! Eighteen years of meticulous education, wasted!” Meticulous education? I instinctively recalled being forced to listen to music, practice singing, learn notation, and play piano… until, at age ten, I nearly jumped from a window in despair. Hiss—I sucked in a cold breath. Some meticulousness you just can’t handle. “Great news!” I clapped first, loudly exclaiming, “Since the real son is home, can I leave?” I licked my lips, unable to hide my excitement. “I won’t have to memorize Beethoven’s scores anymore!” “And I won’t have to cry practicing piano every single day!” Caleb froze. Everyone turned to look at me. Dad’s expression softened as he walked over and patted my back. “You little rascal, what nonsense are you dreaming up?” He turned to Caleb, his face hardening. “Son, your so-called evidence requires further investigation. Until the truth comes to light, please watch your mouth.” “Investigation? The confession is right here!” Caleb’s voice was high with emotion, waving his phone, which showed him receiving his award. “I am your son! A musical genius capable of winning a Gold Prize!” Lyra rolled her eyes subtly. “Who doesn’t know that this year’s Gold Prize was a razor-thin win? It should be called the ‘barely-made-it’ award.” Caleb’s lips trembled with anger. But Lyra had won that very award at eleven, with the highest score. I sighed internally for Caleb. Poor kid, do you really think coming to the Forester family is paradise? Everyone here, except me, is a force of nature! 2 Mom immediately arranged for an expedited DNA test. The next morning, the report was out. Caleb was right. He was the real Leo, the Forester family’s prodigal son. And I? Just a little stray abandoned by a misguided girl. Caleb pushed open my bedroom door, triumphantly declaring, “Do you really deserve such a nice room? Get out! It’s mine now!” I swiftly got up and began packing my suitcase. “Alright, I’m out of here!” On the walls were Lyra’s monthly updated scores. It was almost the end of the month, her inspection time. Great, no need to memorize them anymore, haha. “Leo, what are you doing?” Mom walked in and gently placed a hand on mine. “The house has plenty of empty rooms, several of them.” I hesitated. “Uh… the real son wants to live here…” “I’ve raised you for eighteen years!” Mom said firmly. “Both of you are my children. Leo, just consider it like having a new brother in the house. Get along with Caleb.” Caleb gritted his teeth slightly, then forced a smile. “I don’t think we’ll get along. A tone-deaf person might infect my perfect pitch!” I wholeheartedly agreed. Exactly. I knew my own limits perfectly well! Lunchtime arrived. Caleb changed into a custom-tailored suit, looking incredibly sharp. But he didn’t realize that in the Forester dining room, it wasn’t about clothes; it was about something else. “This quail soup is quite good, have some more.” Mom elegantly took a sip, then asked, “Lyra, last night, Lady Serena wanted to replace the original triad with a C9. What do you think?” I nearly choked. Knew it! The music meeting! Lyra wiped her mouth with a napkin before replying, “While triads are simple and common, they’re also the most versatile. A C9 is more relaxed, so I think a concert-exclusive version would be more suitable.” Mom smiled. “That’s exactly what I told her. Pop music is fine for a casual diversion, but don’t forget your main craft. Maestro Carlo is asking about your solo recital again. He even suggested your dad could join…” Dad gave a knowing smile, cleared his throat with a sip of tea, and instantly launched into a segment of a drinking song. I, meanwhile, kept my head down, shoveling food. Ignore me, please, Amen. The next question, however, was directed at a keenly expectant Caleb. “Caleb.” Caleb quickly put down his chopsticks, giving Mom a confident look. “Yes, Mom?” “Since you won a Gold Prize, your musical literacy must be up to par.” Mom tapped the tabletop like piano keys, casually playing a short passage. “How do you think this passage could be improved?” Caleb’s expression froze. He stared at Mom’s hands and the dining table laden with dishes, sweat beading on his forehead. “This… this isn’t a piano, it’s a dining table. How can I tell?” Lyra let out a small snort. “I could understand it when I was nine.” Caleb bit down hard. Mom calmly announced, “It’s not too late to mend the fence. You’ve returned home, so you’ll naturally receive the same education as all Forester children.” My heart sank, and I quickly took a big gulp of hot soup. The Forester children’s education… that was a one-way ticket to hell! Caleb, you can do it! 3 Caleb was utterly confident. After his initial defeat at lunch, he was even more determined. “I’ve missed out on so much progress before!” He clenched his fist and shouted, “If it weren’t for that kidnapper, if I’d grown up normally, I’d be a thousand times more successful than Leo!” “I’ll prove my bloodline!” His cheeks flushed after the outburst. Just then, applause and laughter echoed from above. Caleb bristled, looking around. “Who?! The parrot? Get down here!” The parrot cocked its head, observing him from its perch. Seeing this, I quickly called out, “Flyer, don’t mind him. Keep eating!” Caleb spun around and snapped at me. “Leo! What are you showing off about? I’m the real son of this family! A pet, and I can’t even order it around?” I sighed. Idiot. Didn’t he know Flyer was like a flying hydraulic system? I was saving him! Besides, Flyer wasn’t just any parrot… A moment later, Flyer, fed and content, lifted its head and opened its beak. A familiar song filled the living room. It was eerily similar to the drinking song Dad had sung at lunch. Caleb’s jaw dropped. Flyer elegantly flew over his head, dropping a feather. He spat and brushed off the feather, then asked me, flustered and angry, “Can this bird sing opera?” I shrugged. “Your ears aren’t broken. Dad found Flyer when he was touring in the Southeast. He raised him from a hatchling, and he’s incredibly musical.” Caleb couldn’t believe it. He looked up at the bird, then down at me, his mouth opening and closing. Finally, he broke. “What the hell is going on?!” He shrieked, “Even a bird is a prodigy here! Leo! How have you managed to live peacefully until today?!” I sat cross-legged on the plush carpet, starting a game, and spared him a smile. “I just accept reality, accept myself.” “You’re shameless!” Caleb’s face was beet red, looking utterly disgusted. “You’ve taken my place since childhood, received so much education, yet accomplished nothing! You’re a piece of garbage! I refuse to live under the same roof as garbage and pollute the music!” He ran upstairs to find Mom and Dad. “Dad! Mom! Are you there? I have something to say!” Mom and Dad stepped out onto the terrace. “In the middle of the day, so loud. Don’t you worry about disturbing others? What is it?” Mom’s expression was displeased. Caleb pointed furiously at me. “Mom, now that your real son is home, there’s no reason for him to have privileges that I don’t!” “I want to go to the Conservatory, I want to become your personal disciple, I want to be the rightful heir of the Forester family!” He spoke with increasing indignation, gritting his teeth. “Also, your energy is limited. With a genius around, why bother with garbage?” “Leo is tone-deaf, any further training is a waste. All the lessons, instruments, and practice rooms assigned to him should be given to me instead!” I dropped my game, utterly thrilled. Really? Forester family lessons? For a tone-deaf person, that’s eighteen levels of hell! Music practice rooms? My sister’s domain. Every time I set foot in there, I’d crash and burn! “Yes, yes, give it all to him!” I jumped up and shouted. “Mom, Dad, Caleb is so motivated! Listen to him! He’s a genius; he’s the one who can truly absorb the nourishment of the lessons!” Mom shot me a quick, sarcastic glance. Dad, however, hesitated. “Caleb, are you sure about this? All the courses… they’re quite challenging.” “It’s not hard for me!” Caleb was resolute. “I’m a true genius, I can definitely meet all the Forester family’s demands!” 4 Caleb’s resolve made Dad nod slightly. Mom also smiled, as if she saw a diligently shining raw gem. “Alright,” she agreed. “If both you brothers have no objections, then so be it.” Dad happily said, “He is my son after all, good!” “Tomorrow, you’ll start your studies according to the Red Standard.” The Red Standard? My hand went limp, and the game controller dropped onto my leg. Lyra also looked over with a strange expression. That was the Forester family’s highest-tier training program, reserved for once-in-a-generation talents, intended to cultivate music masters who would dominate an era. Among our elders, only Uncle Arthur had endured it to the end; he was currently in a sanatorium, trying to channel music from the beyond, hoping to summon the spirit of Qin Shi Huang. Caleb knew nothing of this. His heart was brimming with the joy of victory. He lifted his chin high, haughtily telling me, “Do you see? The real thing is real, and a fake is a fake. I am the heir of the Forester family!” “As for you, just wait to pack your bags and get out!” I, filled with anticipation, clasped my hands together, bowing slightly. “Good brother, it’s all on you! Go for it!” I was genuinely sincere. If he couldn’t hack it, I’d probably go back to that difficult life. The next day, at 5:30 AM. The night was still deep when Caleb was woken by the intercom next to his bed: “Caleb! Wake up!” “Time for physical training! One hundred push-ups, one hundred squats, one hundred pull-ups!” Caleb’s eyes were blank, and he instinctively retorted, “I’m a musician, not an athlete!” The intercom replied, “You’ll be performing for several hours in a single concert. How will you manage without good physical stamina? Don’t get ahead of yourself and forget the importance of building a foundation. Hurry up!” Caleb grudgingly got out of bed and started exercising on the small balcony of his suite. Breakfast time. Caleb shuffled to his seat, his legs trembling. However, what awaited him was a thick stack of sheet music. Mom, watching his training video, said, “You only completed a third of your workout. Now, memorize the first piece in this large Spanish scorebook.” “I’ll check before lunch. No food if you can’t recite it.” Caleb’s fingertips trembled. “The first piece is thirty-two pages long! And what are those markings on it?” “Spanish,” Mom said nonchalantly. “Translations always miss some nuances. Master multiple languages, and you’ll be able to analyze the truest intentions of great composers as much as possible.” Caleb held back and held back, but seeing me casually eating steamed buns diagonally across from him, he couldn’t contain himself. “What about him?” Mom was calm and composed. “He’s tone-deaf, so memorizing is pointless. His requirements are lower.” “But you are a genius with perfect pitch. Sheet music is more important than food.” I happily picked up a shrimp dumpling, mumbling, “Delicious! Uh, why are you looking at me? Hurry and memorize it, don’t miss out on lunch!” Caleb’s face flushed red, but remembering his boastful words from yesterday, he remained silent and lowered his head to memorize the score. Today, time dragged on like years for him. Four hours of memorizing followed by eight hours of piano practice, and in the evening, he had to do music analysis with Lyra. At 1 AM, I finished my game and drifted off to sleep. Caleb, clutching a messy score, was sobbing. Mom slapped the ruler onto the table, disappointed. “It’s only the first day! Your sister proactively proposed this dual-track analysis method when she was eight, and you’re eighteen and can’t learn it? You still think you’re a genius?” “No, this is too advanced!” Caleb’s eyes were wide, tears streaming down. “Too advanced?” Mom crossed her arms, speaking coldly. “Leo is tone-deaf, but he never said learning music or notation was difficult!” “You look down on him, yet you’re not even as good as he is?” Caleb’s gaze sharpened. A hypothetical rival was more effective than a ruler. He wiped his face, bitterly saying, “How could I be inferior to him? I’m better than him in every way!” At this moment, I frowned and pulled the covers tighter. Caleb had no idea how outrageous the Forester family’s training methods were. He also didn’t know the greatest use of a slacker like me in the Forester family…

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End-of-year bonuses were being distributed, and the boss called me into his office alone. He tapped his fingers on the desk, cutting straight to the chase: “Sophia, you’re a key technical asset to the company. For this year’s bonus, I’m giving you three choices.” “First, an apartment in the city center, valued at five million.” “Second, a cash bonus of one million.” “Third, a month’s paid long leave.” I’d dreamed of owning a home in this city my whole life! I decisively declared: “I choose the apartment!” The words had barely left my lips when a flash of cold steel appeared. The boss, Marcus Zane, somehow held a knife, and he just… cut me down. I opened my eyes again, still in the office. Marcus’s voice echoed, word for word: “Sophia, you’re a key technical asset to the company. For this year’s bonus…” Cold sweat instantly drenched my back. I swallowed hard and changed my mind: “I choose the cash!” Another stab, and I died again. The third time I opened my eyes, I looked at Marcus’s half-smile, my voice trembling: “I, I choose a month’s leave…” The knife flashed again, and I was gone. The fourth time I opened my eyes, Marcus was about to speak. I dropped to my knees with a thud. “Boss! What do you want me to choose?!” 1 Across from me, Marcus Zane frowned, then bent down to help me up. “Sophia, why did you suddenly kneel?” I scrambled to my feet, glancing at the clock on the wall. 9:15 AM again. If he hadn’t killed me three times already, I might have actually been moved by his feigned concern for his subordinate. I was shaking uncontrollably. Marcus grinned, a peculiar smile spreading across his face: “Sophia, you’re a key technical asset to the company. For this year’s bonus, I’m giving you three choices. First, an apartment in the city center…” He repeated the three options. “Wait!” I blurted out, interrupting him in a panic. The memory of the previous three lives still stung in my chest. It seemed that to survive, the key lay in how I answered this choice. After much thought, forgoing the bonus altogether should be safe, right? I steeled myself and stated directly: “Mr. Zane, thank you for your generosity. I won’t be taking a bonus this year.” “Uh, I still have work to do, so I’ll just head out…” I turned and walked towards the door, desperate to leave the office. But as soon as I turned, a knife plunged into my heart from behind. As I fell, I saw the blood dripping from Marcus’s knife. He lowered his head and licked a drop of blood that had splattered on his cheek, his lips twisting into a grotesque, sinister grin. Everything went black. I opened my eyes again, back at 9:15 AM. My heart pounded furiously as I stiffly looked up. Marcus sat opposite me. “Sophia, you’re a key technical asset to the company. For this year’s bonus, I’m giving you three choices…” 2 I trembled, succumbing to a wave of despair. All three options were wrong. The fourth time, even not choosing was a dead end. What did he want me to choose for this bonus? Since joining this company, I’d been the first to arrive, the last to leave, working tirelessly, dedicating myself entirely to my tasks. I only took my rightful salary and never actively asked for an annual bonus. Just as I couldn’t wrap my head around it, Marcus repeated that fatal question. I took a deep breath, mustering my courage to look at him: “Mr. Zane, whatever you give, I’ll take. Even if it’s nothing, that’s fine. I’ll leave it all to you!” He paused. This time, he didn’t immediately kill me with the knife. It seemed I’d gambled correctly. Marcus narrowed his eyes, his tone unreadable: “Sophia, the annual bonus is a company benefit for its employees. You’ve generated such significant revenue for the company; it’s what you deserve.” “Every qualifying employee gets a share. Just choose, don’t worry about it. Don’t waste time; others are waiting!” As he spoke, I thought I saw a glint of a knife by his hand. My heart pounded; I had no idea how to choose. Then his phrase, “others are waiting,” abruptly popped into my mind. My heart skipped a beat. Marcus’s secretary, Sarah Hayes, delivered coffee promptly at 9:30 AM every day. If she came in, I could use it as an opportunity to escape. “Sophia! Hurry and choose one, do you want the house or the money…” Marcus’s voice was icy. Cold sweat trickled down my neck, my heart racing. Knock, knock. Two soft taps on the door, like a lifeline I’d seized. I almost instinctively blurted out, “Enter!” Sarah pushed the door open, the aroma of coffee filling the room. “Mr. Zane, your coffee.” Marcus’s words were abruptly cut off, his face livid. I couldn’t worry about that now. With Sarah present, he surely wouldn’t dare to kill me in front of someone else. Seizing this window of opportunity, I abruptly stood up. “Mr. Zane, I’ll step out for now and get back to you about the bonus after I’ve considered it.” As I rushed to the office door, “Ah!” Sarah’s piercing scream echoed behind me. My blood instantly froze. I stopped dead, turning back to see a sight that made my scalp prickle. Marcus’s dagger was plunged into Sarah’s heart. Drops of blood trickled down the blade, crimsoning her white blouse. My mind exploded. Sarah had worked by Marcus’s side for eight years, his most trusted right-hand woman! Her body swayed, then she fell heavily into a pool of blood. I heard her faint voice: “Sophia, run… quick…” Marcus frowned and fiercely stabbed her twice more. Sarah’s body twitched twice, then went completely still. My hand, which had been reaching for the door, fell back in despair. No. Sarah had always been so kind to me. If I escaped now, breaking this death loop, then she would truly be dead. Details of each reincarnation cycle flashed through my mind, and an answer emerged. Perhaps… this was the correct answer to the problem. Before I could even speak it, Marcus’s grotesque face was already inches from mine. “You just said you needed to consider? Then die!” The cold blade sliced across my throat. I died again. 3 Opening my eyes, my first instinct was to touch my neck; my skin was smooth and intact. There was no blood on the floor, no sign of Sarah’s body. The clock on the wall read 9:15 AM. Marcus across from me looked slightly puzzled, then asked if I’d been working overtime. I forced myself to calm down, my hands trembling violently, but I still managed a strained smile: “Yes, Mr. Zane, I had an all-night meeting with overseas clients, so I didn’t rest well.” I responded casually, but my mind was racing. Was Marcus’s purpose in making me choose the bonus merely to find an excuse to kill me? All three options were wrong, and saying “I need to consider” or “I don’t want it” was a definite dead end. This company was the culmination of generations of the Zane family’s hard work. Marcus and I had no grudges; I was his most capable subordinate. Our superior-subordinate relationship was harmonious, with no friction whatsoever. Furthermore, I was the only one in the entire company who could oversee my current project from start to finish. Any slight misstep would lead to astronomical losses, even outright bankruptcy. An answer was gradually forming in my mind. But I needed time to verify its correctness. I took a deep breath, forcing down the surging fear in my heart. Quickly scanning my surroundings, this office was at the very end of the corridor, and the soundproofing was ridiculously good; even if I screamed at the top of my lungs, no one outside would hear. Ten more minutes. Sarah would come in to deliver coffee punctually. This time, I couldn’t repeat the same mistake, and I certainly couldn’t drag her into danger. I subtly slipped my hand into my pocket, preparing to press the emergency alarm on my phone. Empty. My heart suddenly sank as I remembered. In my hurry to get into the office this morning, I had carelessly left my phone on my desk outside. “Sophia, I’m asking you, what do you want for this year’s bonus? An apartment in the city center…” Marcus across from me was still speaking, delivering that deadly question again. I sighed, sliding off my chair onto the floor. Ignoring his words, I started to cry at the top of my lungs: “Mr. Zane, you know I’m an orphan, never had anyone to care for me since childhood. I finally saved up a little money from work, but I haven’t even had a single day to enjoy it…” I sobbed ramblingly, recounting my life from the orphanage to school, from starting work to now. As I cried, I slowly edged towards Marcus’s desk. Marcus tried his best to hide his impatience. “I know you’ve had it tough, which is why the company’s bonus for you is exceptionally generous. Hurry and choose. Once you choose, you can live a good life.” I sneered inwardly. Was a “good life” him sending me to my grave? Just then, a knock sounded at the door. Sarah had arrived. Marcus raised his chin towards the door: “Come back later.” The moment his attention was diverted to the door, I swiftly pressed the emergency call button on the desk. As my finger lifted, I met Marcus’s utterly cold eyes. “What are you doing?” He leaned closer, his figure completely engulfing me, head tilted, a chilling smile on his lips. “Bonus, three choices, what do you pick?” I met his gaze and smiled too. “House, cash, leave—I want all three.” 4 After I voiced my answer, Marcus froze, clearly not expecting me to say that. He said in a strange tone, “A good choice. Too bad, though, you shouldn’t have picked that.” As soon as he finished speaking, he drew his knife and lunged at me. I was prepared, sidestepping to dodge and leaping up to escape. At the same time, Marcus quickly pursued me, closing in rapidly, catching up in a few seconds. Marcus grabbed my throat, and I opened my mouth, biting down hard on his wrist. He cried out, his grip loosening. I seized the opportunity, lunging forward to pick up the knife that had fallen to the floor. However, he spun around quickly, grabbing my wrist, prying my fingers open, and fiercely snatching the knife back. The next second, he raised his hand, aiming for my chest. I desperately dodged. The knife missed by an inch, plunging into my arm, blood splattering. Marcus cursed, kicked me in the stomach, and raised the knife to strike again. Just then, the office door burst open, and two security guards rushed in. Marcus’s hand stopped. Saved! I yelled, “Uncle Robert, Uncle Daniel, help me!” Robert and Daniel were honest and warm-hearted, and they had always treated me very well. They were also skilled in martial arts. Seeing them, I breathed a sigh of relief; with them here, I wouldn’t be killed. The emergency button next to Marcus’s desk led directly to security, summoning them instantly. They stepped forward to help me up. “Mr. Zane, what are you doing?” I shouted at them, “Uncle Robert, Uncle Daniel! Marcus is trying to kill me! He’s a murderer, call the police!” Uncle Robert picked up his phone. “Zane, don’t think you can bully employees just because you’re the boss. I’m calling the police to arrest you…” Marcus unhurriedly leaned back in his executive chair. “Uncle Robert, Uncle Daniel, what do you want for this year’s bonus? I have three options…” As he spoke, my arm was suddenly gripped tight. Robert and Daniel held me firmly from behind. Their strength was terrifying; with a crack, my bone was snapped. The pain made my vision go black, but I gritted my teeth and turned my head. Uncle Daniel’s face was streaked with tears. “I’m sorry, Sophia. If you don’t die, we will.” But why?! Why were they so afraid when they heard that question? And why did I have to die? Marcus rose, a cruel grin on his face, stepping towards me. Just as the knife tip was about to slice my throat, the office door was pushed open again. “Mr. Zane, your coffee…” Sarah stood at the doorway, holding a cup of coffee. Her eyes swept over everything in the room, and the coffee cup in her hand clattered to the floor. She froze for two seconds, then turned and bolted out the door, screaming, “Murder! Help me!” Robert and Daniel chased after her, grabbing her hair, covering her mouth, and roughly dragging her back. I don’t know where I found the strength, but I lunged, biting down on Uncle Robert’s hand, tearing off a piece of flesh. “Sarah, run! Don’t mind me!” Robert and Daniel had to turn their attention to me, but I was too tenacious, allowing Sarah to break free. But she only ran a few steps before Marcus caught her again. Sarah and I were locked back in the office. Marcus’s gaze darted between us, as if deciding who to kill first. Sarah’s shoulders hunched together; I could clearly hear her teeth chattering. I lifted my head, spitting fiercely at Marcus. “Sarah is innocent! Let her go! Otherwise, I’ll haunt you even as a ghost!” Sure enough, he savagely grabbed me. I quickly dodged to the side, avoiding his hand. My ankle twisted, and I slammed hard against the desk. In my line of sight, I happened to see the annual performance report on the table. I finally understood why Marcus was so desperate to kill me, and why he forced me to choose from those bonus options…

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1 I saw the box of condoms in Simon’s bag, and my hands started to tremble. Married for seven years, we’d been sleeping in separate rooms for three. His mother said I was paranoid. His sister rolled her eyes: “My brother works overtime every day; how would he have time to cheat? Are you okay, sister-in-law?” Simon stood by, saying nothing. I didn’t make a scene either. That night, I packed my bags. The next day, I slapped the divorce papers onto his office desk. He froze: “Just because of a box of condoms? I told you, a colleague left it in my car.” “Fine,” I nodded. “Then let that colleague explain it to me.” He fell silent. His entire family took turns trying to persuade me not to be “difficult.” My mother even called: “He doesn’t hit you, he doesn’t curse you, and he gives you all his earnings. What more do you want?” What do I want? I just suddenly remembered that on our wedding night, when he was drunk, he’d hugged me and called out another name. I pretended not to hear. I pretended for seven years. … I’d taken a photo of that box of condoms and saved it on my phone. A pack of three, one opened, two remaining. I hadn’t used them. Simon never had the chance to use them either. It wasn’t that I wasn’t willing; he always had an excuse. Overtime fatigue, too much drinking at client dinners, an early start tomorrow. Eventually, he stopped even making excuses, just showered and went into the guest room, shutting the door. Before I fell asleep, I’d hear the sound of short videos from there, sometimes the same video on repeat several times, sometimes him sending voice messages, his voice kept very low. I never asked him who he was talking to. Asking would only make it seem like I cared too much. When his mother came to persuade me, I was tidying his closet. She sat on the edge of the bed, watching me fold his winter sweaters one by one, her mouth never still: “Honestly, you, living a perfectly good life, insisting on causing trouble. You know what Simon’s temper is like, don’t you? If he were really doing something, would he let you find that?!” I didn’t speak. She continued: “I asked him, and he said it was a colleague’s. The colleague was in his car and left it there. Men, you know, a simple explanation for something like that should be enough, but you keep harping on it. Of course he’s annoyed with you.” I put a sweater into a storage bin and looked up at her. “Mom, what kind of colleague leaves condoms in someone else’s car?” She froze for a second, her expression shifting, then she stood up to leave. At the doorway, she tossed back: “You always want to think the worst. I can’t be bothered with you.” His sister was even more direct. She posted a long message in the family group chat. I didn’t read it all, only scanned the last few lines: “…sister-in-law, don’t be too much. If my brother really had someone else, he’d have divorced you already. Would he need to hide it? Do you think you’re so special?” I left the group. Simon came home very late that night, past eleven. I was sitting in the living room, the TV on without sound. He saw me when he took off his shoes, paused, said nothing, and walked straight to the guest room. “Simon,” I called him. He stopped, not turning around. “That box of condoms, whose was it?” He was silent for a few seconds, then turned. On his face was the same gentle, flawless expression I’d seen for seven years. “I told you, it was a colleague’s. A Mr. Brooks, you’ve met him. The one who sat next to me at the company dinner last time.” I looked at him. He looked back at me, his gaze open and honest. So honest that I almost believed him. “Then have him tell me,” I said. “Right now, call him.” His brow furrowed, that gentleness finally cracking. “Are you crazy?” I didn’t say anything. He continued: “I explained, but you don’t believe me, insisting on making such a scene? It’s just a box of condoms. I didn’t actually do anything. Is it really worth this?” Just a box of condoms. I didn’t actually do anything. I stared at his face, suddenly feeling like he was a stranger. Seven years ago, on our wedding day, he was drunk. In our bridal suite, he hugged me and called out “Ava.” Not my name. I froze, and he froze too. In that instant, his eyes cleared for a second, then he hugged me tighter, mumbling he was just drunk, not to take it seriously. I did take it seriously. But I never asked. Ava, I found out later, was his college girlfriend. They dated for three or four years, broke up after graduation. I’d seen photos: round face, single eyelids, eyes curving into two lines when she smiled. Completely different from me. I thought marriage would fix things. Hearts are made of flesh and blood; with time, they warm up. I cooked for him, washed his clothes, bore him a son, and cared for his mother. The month his mother was hospitalized, I rushed to the hospital every day after work. Even the family members of the patient in the next bed praised my filial piety. He held my hand then and said, “You’ve worked so hard.” I thought he was sincere. Now, looking back, it might have just been politeness. I wrote the divorce papers myself. I found a template online, tweaked a few things, and printed out two copies. He came home early that day, saw the documents on the coffee table, and picked them up to read. “Are you serious?” “Yes.” He put the papers down, sat opposite me, and lit a cigarette. We’d been married for seven years; he never smoked inside the house. “Fine,” he said, exhaling smoke. “What do you want? Just say it.” I looked at him, my eyes suddenly burning. Not with sadness. But with the realization of my own foolishness. He didn’t even try to stop me. “I don’t want anything,” I said. “Our son stays with me. You can keep everything else.” He paused. “You don’t want anything?” “No.” He took another puff of his cigarette, then fell silent. After a long time, he stubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray, stood up, and walked towards the guest room. At the doorway, he stopped. “That box of condoms,” he said, his back to me, his voice very low, “it was hers.” I clenched my fingers. “Her name is Ava.” I knew. “We’ve been together for six months. I didn’t mean to hide it from you; I just didn’t know how to tell you.” I closed my eyes. “Is there anything else you want to ask?” I shook my head. He couldn’t see, but he seemed to sense it. He pushed the door open and went into the guest room. The door closed softly. I sat in the living room for a long time, the TV still silent. Later, I stood up and stood by the guest room door for a while. No sound from inside. I went back to the master bedroom and locked the door. The next morning, he left for work. I heard him open the front door, then soft footsteps, stopping at the master bedroom door. He waited a few seconds. Then he left. I stayed in bed until noon, then got up and glanced into the guest room. The blanket was neatly folded. On the bedside table lay the divorce papers, signed. A box of cigarettes was tucked next to it. I picked it up; it was empty. The ashtray was full of butts. 2 The day I moved out, his mother called. I had just stuffed my suitcase into the trunk when my phone vibrated in my bag. I pulled it out; her name. I answered. Before I could speak, she launched into it. “You think you’re so tough now, don’t you? Just up and leave, did you even ask the Campbell family?” I leaned against the car door, looking up at the window of the apartment we’d lived in for seven years. The curtains were drawn. “How has Simon ever wronged you? He gives you his paychecks, never goes out womanizing, just lies around at home—that’s because he’s tired! But you, you find one little thing and cause a scene, making such a fuss that you divorce. How do you expect relatives and friends to look at our family?” I said, “Mom, he cheated.” There was a second of silence. “Cheated on what? He didn’t do anything with that woman, just chatted and had meals. He told me himself. Men, you know, it’s normal to have someone to talk to outside. You’re always at home, controlling everything. He’s under a lot of pressure; what’s wrong with him finding someone to confide in?” I gripped my phone, my fingers a little stiff. “He said they didn’t have sex. Those condoms were bought but not used. You didn’t catch him in the act, so why are you making accusations?” I wanted to say, not used because he didn’t have time to use them yet, right? But I didn’t. It wouldn’t have made a difference. “Alright, alright, if you want to divorce, then divorce. Don’t regret it later. With your temper, who would ever want you?” The call ended. I stood for a moment, then tossed my phone into my bag, got in the car, and started the engine. As I drove out of the complex, the window in the rearview mirror grew smaller and smaller. I didn’t cry. Later, I learned that his mother’s words weren’t just spoken in anger. She truly believed no one would want me. The day the divorce was finalized, I ran into his sister at the registry office. She was arm-in-arm with her boyfriend. They had just gotten their marriage certificate, smiles on their faces. When she saw me, her smile faltered, then she rolled her eyes. “Oh, sister-in-law—no, ex-sister-in-law,” she intentionally drew out the words. “Today’s a good day, we both got our papers.” I ignored her and walked past. She scoffed behind me, her voice not too loud, but just enough for me to hear: “Keep acting up, you’ll end up a two-time divorcee. See who wants you then.” I stopped. Turned to look at her. She seemed a little nervous, hiding behind her boyfriend. I didn’t say anything, just turned and got in my car. Actually, I couldn’t blame her for saying that. The Campbells had always spoken that way. The first year of marriage, his mother and I argued over a small matter. His sister chimed in, telling me, an outsider, not to be ungrateful. Simon was standing there then, and he didn’t say a word. Later, I asked him, “Your sister said I was an outsider, why didn’t you say anything?” He said, “That’s just how she is. Don’t pay her any mind.” I said, “Then what am I?” He looked at me, a hint of helplessness in his eyes. “You’re my wife.” I believed him then.

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1 The day before the wedding, Eric accompanied me to the bridal shop to pick out my gown. I had just stepped out of the fitting room. Eric, in a rush, stripped off his suit jacket, turning to leave. “Manon is in trouble. Ava can’t handle it alone. I need to get to the hospital. Tomorrow’s wedding is off.” Once, I would have stopped him, demanding to know who was more important: Ava and her daughter, or me. But this time, watching his retreating back, I didn’t try to hold him back. This was the ninety-ninth time he had canceled our wedding for Ava and Manon. Half an hour later, Ava updated her social media. [You are my only reliance in this world.] The photo in the post showed Eric hugging Ava, with Manon calling out “Mommy, Daddy.” They looked exactly like a family of three. My parents sighed helplessly at this. “Summer, is the wedding canceled again tomorrow? But we’ve already sent out the invitations.” My expression was calm as I shook my head. “The wedding will proceed as planned. My groom isn’t him.” … Hearing my words, Mom quickly pulled out spare invitations from her bag. Dad’s gaze fell on the groom’s name section. Both of them visibly relaxed. “If you’re marrying him, your dad and I will finally be at ease.” “Summer, Dad always said Eric wasn’t worth your lifelong trust. You’ve finally realized it.” Some people only learn the hard way. This time, I chose to let go. After settling on the gown, Eric happened to call. “I remember you always wanted to check out that popular internet-famous Western restaurant downtown. I specifically found a scalper to book a table for lunch.” I originally wanted to refuse. But thinking of our six years together, it should at least end with some dignity. I walked to the entrance of the Western restaurant. Eric reached out to take my bag, his other hand instinctively reaching for my waist. I avoided his touch and walked straight into the restaurant. Watching his hand hang awkwardly in the air, his brow furrowed, a hint of impatience in his voice. “Summer, don’t throw a tantrum.” “Manon suddenly fell ill. Ava had no one else to call but me.” “You know, I promised Brandon before he passed away that I would take care of Ava and Manon.” I didn’t respond, sitting down to browse the menu. He sat beside me, irritably tugging at his tie. “A promise made is a debt unpaid. You wouldn’t want a man who goes back on his word, would you?” I took out my phone to scan the QR code and order. He waited a moment, and seeing my continued silence, he sighed deeply. “Alright, don’t be angry. The next wedding definitely won’t be canceled again. I said I’d give you the perfect wedding, and I won’t break my promise.” But his promises only applied to Ava and Manon. I always had to make concessions for them. Just then, a waiter approached. “Miss, excuse me, your table has already ordered a four-person meal. Adding more might be too much. Do you need me to cancel it?” Before I could react, a familiar female voice sounded behind me. “The line for the restroom was too long. Summer, you’ve waited a while, haven’t you?” Ava, holding Manon’s hand, walked towards us. She sat on Eric’s other side, while Manon squeezed into the space between Eric and me. I froze for a moment. Eric opened his mouth to speak, but Ava quickly interjected. “It’s all Eric’s fault. I just mentioned wanting to try this Western restaurant, and he remembered, even paying three times the price for scalped tickets.” “Summer, you don’t need to cancel your order. Eat what you want.” Watching her assert her dominance, I couldn’t help but smile wryly. In the past, I thought Eric didn’t understand Ava’s intentions and tactics. Now, it seemed he had always enjoyed the thrill of being fought over by us. I looked at the waiter beside me. “Cancel it…” “Ah—it hurts so much! Daddy, Aunt Summer pinched my arm and made it swell!” 2 Manon lifted her swollen, red arm, crying hysterically. “Summer, if you have any complaints with me, come at me directly. Why are you bullying a child? Children are innocent.” Ava’s eyes were red-rimmed, filled with hurt and helplessness as she looked at Eric. “Eric, thank you for taking care of us all these years. Let’s not see each other again. If she dares to abuse a child right in front of you, I can’t imagine what might happen later…” As she spoke, she took Manon’s hand, about to leave. Manon tugged at Eric’s jacket, refusing to let go. “I don’t want to leave Daddy. I want Daddy and Mommy to be together forever. Aunt Summer is a bad person; she wants to steal my Daddy.” The commotion at our table instantly attracted the attention of other diners. Several influencers, live-streaming, immediately raised their phones, aiming the cameras at my face. “Folks, I came to review a restaurant and ended up witnessing a mistress provoking the legitimate wife. Quick, screenshot this mistress’s face so she doesn’t steal your husband.” “That poor child! The mistress dares to abuse a child right in front of the parents. Imagine what she’d be like as a stepmother!” The waiter, who had been kind to me earlier, also turned cold. “Miss, please leave. Our restaurant does not welcome mistresses!” As the situation escalated, I looked at Eric with a pleading gaze, hoping he would step forward to explain for me. But he only shot me a cold glance. “Summer, Manon is just a child. How could you lay a hand on her?” “Eric, I didn’t pinch her.” I pointed to the security camera above our heads. “If you don’t believe me, go check the surveillance footage now.” No sooner had I finished speaking than Manon suddenly fainted to the floor. “Eric, Manon fainted! Quickly, take Manon to the hospital!” Ava screamed. Eric scooped up Manon and rushed towards the door. As he passed through the glass door, he paused and looked back at me. I was surrounded by the live-streaming influencers and “justice-seeking” customers. All sorts of insults rained down on me. Just as I thought Eric had had a change of heart, he suddenly spoke. “Summer, I never thought you could be so vicious. Come back to me when you realize your mistake.” With that, he left without looking back. He left me alone to face the insults of the influencers and passersby. Finally, a customer who couldn’t stand it anymore called the police, and I was able to leave the restaurant. Greasy soup dripped down my hair, and my white dress was stained with food, emitting a foul odor. No taxi driver was willing to take me, so I had to walk home. Pushing open the front door, Eric sat on the living room sofa, smoking. Even though he tried his best to control his expression, I still saw the disgust in his eyes. “You’re back?” I looked at him calmly. “Eric, let’s end this.” His hand, holding the cigarette, paused. He stood up and walked towards me. “Is it because of what happened at lunch?” He stared at my face, took a deep drag of his cigarette, then exhaled a plume of smoke. “Summer, I thought you could understand the situation. If I had clarified for you in the restaurant, Ava and Manon would have been the ones hurt.” “Besides, this is all because you were unreasonably jealous and hurt Manon. You brought this upon yourself; you can’t blame anyone else.” “Manon has already forgiven you, and Ava said she won’t hold it against you. Let’s just let this go.” With that, he raised his hand, intending to stroke my head. But he quickly retracted it when he noticed the stains. “You should go clean yourself up first.” “Eric.” Watching his back as he turned away, I took a deep breath. “Tomorrow is my wedding.” 3 He stopped walking abruptly, then spun around. His patience was clearly at an end. “You know Manon needs round-the-clock care for a week every time she gets sick. How can I have time to marry you tomorrow?” “Summer, can’t you be a little more understanding?” I looked at him expressionlessly. “I’m informing you, not asking for your permission.” His face darkened. “Can you stop being so unreasonable? I told you, I’m busy tomorrow.” “If you want to have a wedding without a groom, go right ahead. It’ll be you and your parents who are humiliated then!” I clenched my fists, meeting his gaze. “My wedding doesn’t need you.” He suddenly laughed. “Summer, besides me, who else would marry you?” The words had barely left his lips when a loud crash suddenly came from the nursery. My heart tightened. I quickly walked to the nursery and pushed open the door. Plush toys were scattered across the floor, and a small outfit my mother had sewn was shredded into rags. Manon sat on the children’s bed that my father had built. Broken jars and powder were scattered at Ava’s feet. Her tear-filled eyes blinked, her face etched with helplessness and fear. “I accidentally broke this jar.” Eric rushed over, bumping past me, who was blocking the doorway, and took Ava’s hands. “Ava, are you hurt?” Ava’s gaze slid past Eric, giving me a challenging smile. I knew she did it on purpose. But I couldn’t control myself and rushed forward, slapping her. Ava clutched her red and swollen face, her voice choked with grievance. “I’m sorry, I just saw dust on the jar and wanted to help wipe it clean. I didn’t mean to drop it, I really wasn’t trying to…” Eric grabbed my arm, forcing me to bow to Ava. “Summer, you’ve gone too far! Apologize!” “Eric, that was our child!” Two years ago, Eric and I had a child. The jar Ava broke was our child’s urn. Manon, sensing Ava’s unspoken cue, covered her ears and screamed, running out of the room. “Manon!” Ava followed her out. Eric’s face was grim. “Look what you’ve done! How can a dead person be more important than a living one? Did you really have to resort to violence?” I stared incredulously into his eyes. “Eric, you know what the nursery means to me. That was your child. How could you…” “Summer!” He sharply interrupted me. “If you hadn’t bullied Manon this afternoon, would I have had to bring her home to comfort her? Everything I’m doing is to atone for your sins.” Just then, Ava’s sobs suddenly drifted in from outside. Eric instantly panicked, violently shaking off my arm, and swiftly ran out. Unprepared, I fell to the floor. My forehead hit the ground, and everything went dark. The memory of that torrential downpour two years ago suddenly flashed in my mind. A phone call from Ava had pulled Eric away, leaving me, five months pregnant, on the roadside in the pouring rain. A drunk driver, speeding, crashed straight into me. That night, Eric knelt by my hospital bed, slapping himself repeatedly, begging for my forgiveness. “I’m sorry, I was wrong. I never expected an accident to happen.” “I just didn’t want to let down Brandon’s dying wish. I never meant to hurt you.” “Summer, I let you and our child down. After we get married, we’ll try for another child. They’ll come back to us.” That time, I forgave him again. But now he was saying our child was less important than Ava and Manon. “Summer.” Eric’s face suddenly loomed large before me. Just as I blinked, trying to distinguish between a dream hallucination and reality, Manon suddenly came closer. “See? I told you Aunt Summer was faking it.” 4 Seeing my eyes clear, Eric immediately stood up and shielded Manon behind him, as if afraid I would resort to violence again. I got up, but before I could speak, Ava quickly walked forward and knelt before me. “It was wrong of me to break the urn. If you want to hit or scold someone, come at me. Manon is innocent; she’s just a child. Please don’t hurt her.” Eric pulled Ava up, his face livid. “Summer, don’t push it too far! First, you resorted to violence, and now you’re making someone kneel to you. What exactly do you want?” “You’re the one in the wrong. Why aren’t you apologizing and admitting your mistake?” “I was wrong.” A sarcastic smile played on my lips. I was blind and foolish, falling for the wrong person, causing my parents to worry about me. “I’m sorry.” I was tired; I didn’t want to be entangled with them anymore. Eric was visibly stunned. I had never backed down in arguments with Ava and Manon. My apology made him inexplicably flustered, his voice softening a few degrees. “I’m not really blaming you. Just don’t act so impulsively next time.” A hint of unwillingness flashed in Ava’s eyes, and she tugged at Eric’s sleeve, aggrieved. “Eric, since this nursery is where the ashes are kept, let’s not stay here. I’m afraid Manon will have nightmares sleeping here.” “Manon and I should go back home. I’m just worried Manon might suddenly get sick…” “I’ll go back with you.” Eric blurted out, but seeing my gaze, he looked a little guilty. “Manon’s condition gets very serious when she’s sick, and Ava can’t take care of her alone. I’ll stay with them during the day and come home at night.” I nodded indifferently and turned to walk towards the bedroom. Soon after, the front door closed. The three of them had left. Looking at the wedding decorations filling the house, I only felt irony. After a hot shower, I sent a message to the real estate agent, putting the wedding house up for sale. The house was bought by my parents for Eric and me. Since I had decided to separate, I no longer needed this house. Then I started packing my luggage. In the evening, Eric sent a message. [Manon got sick again. I won’t be home tonight. You don’t need to leave a light on for me. Get some good rest. Love you.] Immediately after, Ava updated her social media. [My daughter just mentioned wanting to see fireworks, and he drove three hundred kilometers to bring us here.] The accompanying photo showed Manon riding on Eric’s shoulders, watching fireworks. I “liked” the post, then picked up my luggage and left. That night, the video of me being called a mistress at the internet-famous Western restaurant went viral. Many relatives and friends who recognized me came forward to explain on my behalf. Public opinion instantly reversed. Overwhelming insults turned towards Ava and Manon. Just then, Eric suddenly called, his voice filled with anger. “Summer, you’re truly two-faced. Apologizing during the day, then instigating your relatives and friends to slander Ava and Manon online at night.” “If anything happens to Ava and Manon because of your malicious intent, I will absolutely never forgive you!” Before I could explain, he hung up. Five minutes later, Eric started a live stream to clarify things for Ava and Manon. “Hello everyone, I am the person involved in today’s trending topic. Ava is my wife, and Manon is my daughter. Please do not harm them.” “Summer and I are merely friends. I’m not sure why she would ask people to spread rumors about our relationship online.” After the live stream, Eric sent a text message. [I promised Brandon I would take care of Ava and Manon. Only by saying this will netizens leave them alone.] [Don’t look at online messages recently. Netizens have short memories; in a few days, no one will recognize you.] I looked at his message and cried, laughing. The last trace of affection dissipated with those tears. The next morning, Eric returned home to find the password lock changed. He immediately called me to demand an explanation. “Summer, what kind of fit are you throwing now? What do you mean by changing the front door password lock?” “Do you even want me to marry you anymore?” But a light laugh came from the other end of the line. “Buddy, who are you? My wife, you think you have any right to marry her?”

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1 On the night of our seventh anniversary, I got down on one knee to propose to my girlfriend. In response, her personal assistant dragged out a massive carnival prize wheel for the tenth time to decide my fate. Once again, the ticking needle bypassed the “Engagement” slot. It clattered to a stop on a punishment: Lick the assistant’s shoes. “Oh well. Since you look so pathetic, I will give you a consolation prize.” Victoria smiled down at me. “Just finish this little punishment, and I will finally agree to marry you.” Her assistant, Simon, deliberately shoved his leather shoe into a nearby trash can, scraping it against the grime before holding it out to me. The entire banquet hall erupted into roaring laughter. Every single guest expected me to obey. After all, marrying Victoria Harrington was the ultimate dream I had bled for over the past seven years. But as the laughter echoed off the crystal chandeliers, a sudden, crushing exhaustion washed over me. I dropped the velvet ring box. I dropped the bouquet of red roses. “Victoria.” “I don’t want to marry you anymore.” Dead silence fell over the room. Victoria simply smirked. She reached out, tilting my chin up with a manicured finger. “Wow. Is my little puppy learning how to bark?” “The whole world knows that marrying me is your life’s singular purpose.” She was always like this. Completely dismissive of my actual feelings. But even a pet dog gets taken to the vet when it is sick. She just watched me bleed. Sensing the mood, Simon stepped forward. “Get on your knees and lick the shoe, Rowan. This is your final test. Don’t drop the ball now.” The momentarily quiet crowd burst into laughter all over again. “Is it really the final test?” I clenched my fists, locking eyes with Victoria. “If I pass the engagement test, will there be a wedding photoshoot test? If I pass that, will there be a pre-wedding test? A marriage certificate test?” In the beginning, Victoria used to bury her face in my chest and cry about her past. She told me her toxic ex had destroyed her ability to trust. She said she stopped believing in love until she met me. She begged me to prove that I could withstand the test of time. For seven years, she pushed me away hundreds of times. I never left. I stood by her like a stone pillar. Eventually, I thought I had proven myself. I proposed. Instead of a yes, she listened to Simon and brought out that twisted roulette wheel. Let fate decide, she said. The chance of the needle landing on “Accept Proposal” was exactly one percent. The other ninety-nine percent were humiliating punishments, all centered around serving Simon. One time, the wheel decreed I had to be Simon’s errand boy. He treated me worse than a stray animal. I fetched his coffee. I stood outside the restroom stall to hand him toilet paper. I was forced to be his driver and denied food for a whole day. At a business dinner that night, he made me take all his shots. I drank until my stomach hemorrhaged. When Victoria visited me in the hospital, she didn’t reprimand Simon. She just sighed and said, “A bet is a bet. Let’s hope fate is on your side next time you propose.” I used to think fate would eventually throw me a bone. I used to think Victoria would finally see my devotion, or at least pity me. So, I meticulously planned another proposal. And failed again. I drew a punishment to scrub the corporate bathrooms for a month, with Simon as my supervisor. Even when I polished the tiles until they mirrored the ceiling, Simon found flaws. Every employee who walked past snickered at me. They whispered that the Vice President of the company lived worse than a dog. When Victoria heard the gossip, she did nothing. Instead, she temporarily stripped me of my VP title and gave it to Simon. She took him to every high-profile gala. He basked in the spotlight while I scrubbed urinals. When I finally broke down and asked her why, she looked at me with disappointment. “Rowan, it is not that I don’t care. I just have to maintain absolute fairness in front of the company. After seven years together, can’t you understand my position? Be a good puppy and just obey.” Looking at her disappointed eyes, I actually brainwashed myself into thinking I hadn’t done enough. The cycle repeated. Until yesterday, when I accidentally overheard a conversation between her and Simon. 2 “Boss, if Rowan actually hits that one percent chance someday, will you really marry him?” Simon asked. “You don’t have to call me boss in private.” Victoria laughed lightly. “I am the heiress to a corporate empire. Rowan is a nobody from a working-class family.” “What right does he have to marry me?” “You grew up with me. You are my father’s most trusted aide. You are out of his league by a mile. Even if he gets lucky and lands on the engagement slot, there are still wedding photos, the license, the ceremony. I can easily create a new hurdle at every step.” Simon chuckled, his voice thick with excitement. “I will make sure to work hard on those hurdles, then.” That night, a drunk Victoria leaned into Simon’s embrace. And I stood frozen outside the door, feeling my heart shatter into dust. This pathetic, self-sacrificing illusion of love was nothing but a sick joke. I was done. So tonight, this tenth proposal was my final, exhausted act of rebellion. Back in the banquet hall, Victoria ignored my question. Her posture grew even more arrogant. “Rowan!” “When we first got together, I told you I was highly sensitive. I need constant proof of your sincerity. Now, things get a little tough, and you want to quit? You are nothing but a total hypocrite!” Her beautiful eyes glared at me with pure venom. “If you truly love Victoria, you should accept everything about her, shouldn’t you?” Simon chimed in, fanning the flames. “Looking at you now, your devotion is totally fake.” A hollow laugh escaped my lips. What the hell counted as sincere? Did I need to carve my chest open and hand them my beating heart? What kind of fake lover would endure a highly volatile woman who threatened to break up hundreds of times over seven years? What kind of hypocrite swallows his pride to propose ten times in the face of public humiliation? The words reached the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed them back down. Debating with them was pointless. I turned around and walked toward the exit in silence. “Rowan!” Victoria suddenly panicked. She lunged forward, grabbing my arm. Her voice dropped into a cold threat. “You can walk out that door. But if you do, you forfeit everything you have right now.” I stopped in my tracks. “After seven years together.” I looked at her. “Do you really think I stayed with you for the money?” Victoria lifted her chin, her lips curling into a sneer. “What else could it be? My father introduced me to dozens of billionaire heirs. None of them could handle my temper for more than a few days before running for the hills. Why did a broke loser like you stick around? If it isn’t for the money, what is it?” Once upon a time, she used to curl up in my arms like a kitten and say, Rowan, your love is the only pure thing in my life. You don’t want anything from me. I will cherish this forever. Now, the veil was ripped away. Every word she just spoke was her true, ugly reality. “Let everyone here be my witness.” I took a deep breath, scanning the faces of the whispering guests before locking eyes with Victoria one last time. “I announce that as of today, I am walking away from everything.” With that, I ripped my arm out of her grip and walked out. I didn’t look back once. Behind me, Victoria’s hands balled into tight fists. Simon leaned in to comfort her. “Don’t worry. It is easy to go from rags to riches, but impossible to go back. Give Rowan a few days. He will come crawling back to beg for forgiveness.” “I heard a new Michelin-star restaurant opened downtown. Let’s go grab a bite!” The surrounding crowd eagerly agreed. Victoria finally nodded. But they were wrong. I had never lived a life of luxury. 3 Since the day I met Victoria, I never asked her for a single expensive gift. My salary was standard market rate for my position. To prove I was worthy of her, I worked myself to the bone. I secured over a dozen massive contracts for her company. My industry peers called me a workaholic machine. Several rival conglomerates had even secretly offered me lucrative positions. When I got back to my apartment, I dragged out a heavy cardboard box filled with leather-bound journals and tossed them into a metal fire pit. Years ago, Victoria demanded I write down every little detail of our relationship, claiming we would read them together when we grew old. Now, staring at pages filled with my desperate devotion, I just felt nauseous. As the journals turned to gray ash, I finished packing my single suitcase. Just then, the front door clicked open. Simon walked in, supporting a heavily intoxicated Victoria. “Rowan.” “You never deserved her. You were just a temporary toy for when she was in a bad mood.” “I am the man she is going to marry. The entire Harrington family approves of me.” Simon pointed to a dark purple hickey on his neck. “See this? Here is the proof.” I always knew there was something going on between them. Victoria’s constant defense of Simon made it obvious. I just never realized the full extent of her cruelty. She was stringing me along for a sick power trip while sleeping with him behind my back. “If you know what is good for you, pack your trash and leave. Stop playing these pathetic hard-to-get games,” Simon sneered before strutting out the door. “Rowan!” Victoria, slumped on the sofa, blindly reached out and grabbed my wrist. She mumbled, “Where is my hangover soup? Why haven’t you made it yet?” “There will never be another bowl of soup.” I shook my head and reached for my suitcase. Victoria suddenly bolted upright, throwing her arms around my neck. She leaned in, trying to force a kiss onto my lips. In the past, I would have kissed her back like my life depended on it. Tonight, I shoved her away. She collapsed back onto the cushions. “Rowan, do you love me? Do you even love me?” she slurred, her eyes half-closed. It was a question she asked constantly. And I had always given her the answer she wanted. “No. I don’t love you anymore.” I zipped up my bag, grabbed the handle, and walked out into the cold night air. When I arrived at my parents’ small suburban home, they had a massive dinner waiting on the table. They didn’t ask questions. They didn’t pry. My mother just stroked my hair and said, “Son, if you are tired, just rest. Tell us what you want to eat. This house will always be your safe harbor.” Tears pricked the corners of my eyes. For seven years, my entire universe revolved around Victoria. I chased a cold, distant moon, completely neglecting the warm sun right beside me. But my parents never blamed me. They never tested me. They only wanted me to be happy. After dinner, I lay in my tiny childhood bedroom. It lacked the marble floors and silk sheets of the city, but it was the most peaceful I had felt in years. Then, my phone buzzed. It was Richard Harrington, Victoria’s father. “You poor piece of trash! When are you going to stop leaching off my daughter?” Every time he called, it was the exact same script. And every time, I swallowed my pride, swore I wouldn’t leave, and promised to prove my worth. This time, I fired back. “Trash? Are you looking in a mirror? As of today, I have absolutely nothing to do with your family. Stop harassing me.” I hung up. I blocked his number. I blocked his entire staff. The next morning, the shrill ring of my phone woke me up. It was Victoria. 4 “Rowan!” “Have you completely lost your mind? You dared to curse at my father? You actually packed your bags and ran away? Do not take this tantrum too far!” “My patience is running very thin. Do you understand me?” She wasn’t calling to apologize. She was calling to assert dominance. “I wasn’t joking.” “We are done.” I gave her a flat response and hit the end call button. Two minutes later, she called back. “Are you really throwing a fit? You are throwing your career away too?” Her tone had shifted. It was colder, more calculated. “Yes,” I replied. “Did you forget the non-compete clause you signed? If you resign without my approval, you owe the company a million-dollar penalty.” Victoria chuckled darkly. “However, I am feeling generous. I will give you one chance to wipe that debt clean.” “Tonight is the corporate camping retreat. Come out to the old spot and spin the wheel!” I froze. A million dollars was a death sentence for my family. I had no choice but to take the gamble. That evening, I drove up to the remote mountain campsite. The massive carnival wheel was waiting. The “Cancel Debt/Breakup” slot was narrowed down to a tiny one percent sliver. The other ninety-nine percent was a single, terrifying punishment: Jump into the nearby abandoned swimming pool, which was currently teeming with snakes. “Rowan.” “Take a good look at the punishment. I remember you are deathly afraid of snakes, right? I suggest you drop to your knees and apologize right now. Otherwise, when you miss that one percent, you are taking a swim.” Victoria narrowed her eyes, a victorious smirk playing on her lips. I really couldn’t understand her. She obviously despised me. Why was she trying so hard to keep me on a leash? Was my suffering just that entertaining? “Yeah, Rowan. Beg for mercy,” Simon mocked, walking up to me. He leaned in, dropping his voice to a malicious whisper. “I slipped a few dozen highly venomous vipers into that pit. If you jump, you are a dead man.” “Don’t blame me for being ruthless. Blame yourself for not knowing your place. You should have walked away gracefully.” I took a deep, shaky breath and walked straight toward the wheel. Even if the chances were microscopic, I had to try. I would rather risk death than spend another second trapped in this sick, twisted game. “Rowan!” “Are you insane? Did you not hear me? There are thousands of snakes down there!” Victoria stood frozen in shock. She never expected me to actually risk it. She thought I would break. I ignored her. I reached out, gripped the cold plastic edge of the wheel, and pulled down with all my strength. Under the watchful eyes of the entire company, the wheel spun into a blur of colors. Gradually, the clicking slowed down. Tick. Tick. Tick.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “582275”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 On April Fool’s Day, my best friend breathlessly told me my ten-year boyfriend had planned a huge surprise. I spent two hours on a full face of makeup and bought a custom cake. By the river, the wind howled. He stood in the center of a crowd, arm around Abby, lighting a cigarette. Someone laughed. “Tristan, that’s cold! She actually fell for it?” “A bet’s a bet. Abby’s buying drinks tonight!” Abby leaned on him, giggling. “Tristan, aren’t you scared she actually loves you and will lose it?” He blew out smoke, squinting. “Lose it over what? Seven years. Only a fool would take it seriously.” I walked forward. The crowd fell silent. I dropped the cake onto his expensive shoes. Then I looked straight at Abby. “Last month he texted me about you. Said you were boring in bed, that you didn’t moan well.” Tristan’s face went white. I didn’t look back. The river wind cut through my coat as I turned to leave. It was fine. April—the perfect time to wake from a delusion. … I walked alone along the riverbank embankment. Footsteps rushed up behind me. A hand shot out and clamped down on my wrist. “Serena.” Tristan’s voice was low and dark. The smell of tobacco still clung to his clothes. “What the hell were you talking about back there?” I looked down at the hand gripping my wrist. His knuckles were pronounced. There was a faint, faded scar on his thumb joint. He got it playing basketball in high school. Back then, I used to bring him a fresh bandage every single day. “Let go of me.” “Not until you explain yourself.” He didn’t let go. His grip tightened. “There is absolutely nothing going on between me and Abby. What was the point of that little stunt you just pulled?” I almost laughed out loud. A few people from the crowd had followed him. Abby approached, her stiletto heels clicking sharply against the pavement. She immediately gravitated toward his side. “Tristan, let it go,” she said, her voice dropping into a soft, placating register as she placed her hand lightly on his forearm. “Serena is probably just… a little upset. The prank today was a bit harsh, after all.” Tristan didn’t even look at her. His eyes remained locked on me. “Serena, how old are you? You are throwing a tantrum over an April Fool’s joke? Since when did you become so immature?” The wind blew hard, puffing up his dress shirt. I looked at him, and then at the soft, supposedly harmless face of the woman glued to his side. Abby let out a delicate sigh, pressing herself closer against his chest. She rested her chin on his shoulder and looked at me, her eyes curving into sweet crescents. “Serena,” she murmured, her tone light and conspiratorial, as if sharing a secret. “You don’t actually have feelings for Tristan, do you? Pining after him for so many years when he feels nothing for you… that is just so pathetic.” Tristan didn’t push her away. I violently yanked my hand free. He clearly didn’t expect the sudden force. He stumbled slightly, his empty hand hanging suspended in the cold air. “Abby,” I said, my voice dead calm. “That time I drank myself into stomach bleeding to cover for him at a business dinner? You were sitting right there watching. That time he called me at 2 AM saying he was sick, and I rode a bike for half an hour in the freezing rain to bring him medicine? You were listening on the line. That time he said he was craving wontons from the shop behind our old campus, and I skipped my finals prep to stand in line for two hours? You didn’t try to stop me then, either.” I paused, letting the silence stretch. “You have known absolutely everything for the past seven years.” Abby lifted her head from his shoulder. Her sickeningly sweet smile finally faltered. I turned around and walked down the embankment stairs. This time, no one chased after me. When I reached the main intersection, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a text from my best friend, Chloe. I typed out a quick reply: [Hot pot tonight. You are paying.] The spicy red broth bubbled violently in the center of our table. I shoved a piece of beef tripe into my mouth while Chloe held up her phone, reading aloud: “‘Seven years and they haven’t even held hands. What is she even hoping for?’ — Posted by Abby on Instagram. The photo attached is the cake you smashed on the ground.” My chopsticks hovered in the air for a fraction of a second. Just then, the heavy curtain at the entrance of the restaurant was pushed aside. Two people walked in. Tristan walked in front. Abby was clinging to his arm, that same soft, innocent smile plastered on her face. They walked a few steps inside and stopped, making direct eye contact with our table. Abby’s eyes curved into crescents again. She physically dragged Tristan over to us. “Serena! What a coincidence.” She glanced down at our boiling pot. “Eating hot pot all alone? That is so sad. Do you want to join us? We were supposed to go to a French bistro, but Tristan insisted he wanted something spicy, so I tagged along.” Chloe slammed her chopsticks down onto the table with a sharp crack. “Who the hell are you? Do we know you?” Abby immediately shrank back behind Tristan, her voice turning even softer and more fragile. “I was just saying hello… Serena, please don’t be mad. I didn’t know your friend had such a terrible temper.” Tristan furrowed his brow, glaring at me. “Serena, tell your friend to watch her mouth.” Abby peeked out from behind his shoulder. She looked at the food in my bowl and let out a light, mocking giggle. “You still love beef tripe, huh?” she whispered loudly to Tristan, leaning in close. “I remember you telling me once that someone cooked tripe for you for an entire year straight, and eventually, just looking at it made you want to vomit.” Tristan stayed completely silent. Abby turned her attention back to me, raising her voice just enough so the neighboring tables could eavesdrop. “Serena, I honestly admire you. I really do. Seven years. I could never last that long. I can’t even wake up early enough to buy him breakfast. But honestly, if you like him, you should have just said so! Bottling it up for so long must be agonizing.” Chloe stood up so fast her chair scraped loudly against the floor. A few drops of boiling red broth splashed onto the back of her hand, but she didn’t even flinch. She marched straight around the table, stopping inches away from Abby. “Say that again.” Abby cowered against Tristan’s chest. “Tristan…” Tristan instinctively raised an arm to block Chloe. “Are you psychotic?” Chloe raised her hand and delivered a vicious, open-handed slap. She didn’t slap Abby. She slapped Tristan. 2 The sharp, ringing crack echoed through the restaurant. The entire dining room went dead silent for several seconds. Tristan clutched his cheek, staring at Chloe in absolute disbelief. It was as if his brain couldn’t process what had just happened. Abby stood frozen beside him, her mouth hanging open. The word “Tristan” was trapped in her throat. I stood up. I walked over to them. Just as Tristan opened his mouth to shout, I raised my hand and delivered a second, equally vicious slap to his other cheek. He stumbled backward, crashing heavily into the table behind him. Bowls and chopsticks shattered across the tiled floor. “The first slap was payback for my best friend,” I said, my voice steady. “The second slap is payback for the last seven years.” Abby finally found her voice and let out a piercing scream. “Waiter—!” Chloe grabbed my wrist. We bolted for the exit. The hot pot restaurant had heavy, old-fashioned sliding wooden doors. Chloe kicked one open with a loud bang that rattled the frame. The freezing night wind hit us in the face. Behind us, someone yelled, “Stop right there!” More chopsticks clattered to the floor. Abby screamed, her voice shrill and panicked, “Tristan, you’re bleeding!” We sprinted through two entire city blocks. When we finally ducked into a narrow, dimly lit alleyway, Chloe stopped. She bent over, gasping for air, and then looked up at me. She started laughing so hard she couldn’t stand straight. “Did I… did I actually just slap Tristan across the face?” I started laughing too, leaning against the cold brick wall to catch my breath. “You did.” “Is he going to call the cops?” “Let him,” I said, wiping a tear from my eye. “I can just show the police Abby’s Instagram post and ask if being a pathetic doormat for seven years is a prosecutable offense.” Chloe laughed even harder, collapsing onto a concrete step. I pulled my phone out of my pocket. The screen was lit up with several missed calls. All from Tristan. A new text message popped up: [Where are you?] The phone buzzed again. [Pick up the phone.] [Serena, can you act like a mature adult for once?] I tossed the phone to Chloe. “You reply.” Chloe caught it effortlessly. Her thumbs flew across the keyboard, and she hit send. I leaned over to read what she wrote. [We are at the crematorium. I reserved an oven for you.] I almost choked on a laugh. The phone immediately started ringing again. Tristan’s contact photo flashed aggressively on the screen. Chloe hit decline, powered the phone completely off, and shoved it back into my coat pocket. “Let’s go,” she said, standing up and brushing the dust off her jeans. “We are going to my place.” We navigated out of the alley and flagged down a passing taxi. Just as I pulled the passenger door open, two figures bolted out from the adjacent intersection, running at top speed. Tristan’s face still bore the unmistakable, bright red marks of two handprints. Abby was struggling to keep up behind him, carrying her stilettos in one hand, running on the pavement in nothing but sheer pantyhose. “Serena!” Tristan lunged forward and slammed his hand flat against the open taxi door. The driver leaned his head out the window, annoyed. “Are you getting in or not?” “Yes.” Chloe shoved me violently into the backseat, dived in after me, and slammed the door shut with a deafening thud. “Drive. Now.” Tristan’s fingers were still gripping the edge of the rolled-down window. As the taxi lurched forward, he was dragged a few agonizing steps before finally losing his grip. In the rearview mirror, I watched him stand frozen in the middle of the street. Abby finally caught up to him and tried to grab his arm. He violently shoved her away. Chloe rolled down her window, sticking her head out into the cold wind. “Tristan! Those handprints are perfectly symmetrical! You’re welcome!” The taxi turned a corner, and they vanished from sight. The driver shot us a few wary glances in the rearview mirror but didn’t ask any questions. He just quietly reached over and turned the radio volume up. An old classic rock song was playing. The driver hummed along. Chloe slumped back against the faux-leather seats, kicked off her sneakers, and pulled her knees up to her chest. “I’m starving,” she groaned. “I didn’t even get a single piece of tripe.” “We will boil instant ramen at your place.” “Deal. Add an egg.” My phone vibrated aggressively in my pocket again. I pulled it out. It was an unknown number. I declined the call. A text message arrived immediately: [This is Abby. Tristan drank way too much. Can you come over?] Chloe leaned over, read the message, and practically snatched the phone out of my hands. She quickly typed a reply: [If he drank too much, feed him vinegar. Why are you texting me? Do I look like a vinegar factory?] Send. Block. She tossed the phone back into my lap, glanced out the window, and suddenly sat bolt upright. “Hey. Isn’t that Tristan’s car?” I whipped my head around to look. A sleek black sedan had accelerated aggressively from behind and was now driving parallel to our taxi. The passenger window was rolled halfway down. Tristan’s jaw was clenched so tight the muscles twitched. He suddenly jerked his steering wheel, aggressively swerving toward us. The taxi driver cursed loudly and violently yanked his steering wheel to avoid a collision. “What the hell is wrong with this maniac?!” The black sedan surged forward and pinned us against the curb again, this time closing the gap to mere inches. Tristan turned his head, staring directly through the double layer of glass at me in the backseat. His lips moved. Chloe narrowed her eyes, reading his lips. “He said… get out of the car.” The taxi driver slammed his foot on the gas. The taxi shot forward, briefly leaving Tristan’s car behind. But within seconds, the sleek sedan roared back up alongside us. The two vehicles aggressively wove through the late-night traffic. The driver frantically shifted gears, spewing a continuous stream of profanities. “Are you kids trying to get yourselves killed over a breakup?!” “It’s not a breakup,” Chloe yelled over the engine noise. “It’s debt collection.” We hit a red light, and the traffic forced us to a crawl. Tristan’s car pulled up right beside us. This time, he didn’t look at the backseat. He looked directly at the driver. “Sir, she owes me money.” The driver blinked, startled, and turned around to look at me. Chloe immediately reached over and shoved the driver’s head back toward the windshield. “Keep your eyes on the road! He is lying. He owes us money!” The light turned green. Tristan’s car didn’t move. He waited for our taxi to accelerate, then violently cranked his steering wheel, cutting horizontally across the lanes and blocking our path completely. The taxi driver slammed on the brakes. The tires screeched. All three of us were violently thrown forward. “Holy—” Tristan stepped out of his car. He walked purposefully over to my side of the taxi and knocked hard on the glass. I rolled the window down exactly one inch. “Get out,” he demanded. His voice was hoarse, sounding entirely unlike himself. “We need to talk.” “We have absolutely nothing to talk about.” “We do.” He pressed his hand flat against the cold glass, his knuckles turning white. “You said all those things in front of my friends. Fine. I accept that. But why did you run? Why won’t you let me finish a single sentence?” Chloe leaned aggressively over me, shouting through the crack. “Say what?! That there is nothing between you and Abby? That you actually secretly love Serena?! Tristan, touch your face! You got slapped twice and it’s still swollen, yet she practically bled for you for seven years and you didn’t notice a damn thing?!” Tristan ignored her completely, his eyes locked onto mine. “I already made Abby delete the Instagram post.” I stared at him, unblinking. “She is just a friend. She said she wanted to play a prank today, and I thought you would…” “Thought I would what?” He fell silent. The back door of Tristan’s car opened. Abby stepped out onto the asphalt. Her eyes were bloodshot, her cheeks stained with fresh tear tracks. “Serena,” she whimpered, her voice thick with fake tears. “I am so sorry. This is all my fault. I didn’t know you cared so much. I thought you had already… Tristan always told me you were just old classmates, so I didn’t think anything of it.” “Today was entirely my fault. Please don’t blame Tristan. He actually cares about you a lot.” Chloe burst out laughing. “Oh my god. How many times did you rehearse that monologue in the mirror?” Large, theatrical tears rolled down Abby’s cheeks. “I am truly so sorry. I posted that picture out of a momentary lapse of judgment, but I already deleted it. Tristan already yelled at me for it. If you are still angry, you can hit me. Just please don’t make things difficult for him.” She took a timid half-step forward. She was still in bare pantyhose, and she visibly shivered as her feet touched the freezing asphalt. Tristan glanced down at her, a deep frown creasing his forehead. 3 Abby tilted her head up, gazing at him with red, tear-filled eyes. Her lips parted slightly, but she made no sound. A few pedestrians on the sidewalk stopped to watch the drama unfold. The taxi driver blared his horn twice. “Listen, can you people move this soap opera to the curb? I have a living to make here.” Tristan stepped slightly to the side, but his gaze immediately snapped back to me. “Get out of the car. I will drive you home.” Chloe grabbed my sleeve tightly. Abby stood completely still, tears continuously streaming down her face, her toes curling tightly against the freezing asphalt. She looked simultaneously pathetic and calculating. I pushed the taxi door open and stepped out. Tristan let out a visible breath of relief and took a step toward me. I completely bypassed him. I walked straight up to Abby. She lifted her tear-streaked face, gazing at me with a perfectly crafted look of fragile innocence. Her lips parted as if to speak— “Are your feet not freezing?” I asked softly. She froze. “Doesn’t it hurt to stand on the road like that?” She instinctively looked down at her feet, then back up at me. Something calculating flashed in her eyes for a split second. “Where are my shoes?” she whispered, playing the victim perfectly. She looked around helplessly. She had likely discarded her stilettos several blocks back just to play this exact role. I pulled my phone out of my purse, opened the camera app, switched to the front-facing lens, and held the screen inches from her face. “Take a good look at yourself right now.” She instinctively leaned closer to the screen. She saw her mascara clumped into thick, ugly spiderwebs, her lipstick smeared across her chin, and her eyeliner running in two massive black smudges under her eyes. She looked deranged. “This is what Tristan likes?” I pulled the phone away and dropped it back into my purse. “His taste in women is even worse than I thought.” Abby’s lips trembled violently. Chloe popped her head out of the taxi window. “Hey, where did all that energy go from when you were chasing our car?! Running a marathon in pantyhose—so brave! I thought you were training for the Olympics!” Abby’s face turned a violent shade of crimson. Tristan took a heavy step forward, physically placing himself between me and Abby. “That is enough.” Chloe kicked her door open, hopped out of the taxi in her socks, and marched right up to him, tilting her chin up aggressively. “Enough? Tristan, have you actually counted how many messes she has cleaned up for you over the past seven years? When your psycho ex-girlfriend showed up at her dorm to scream at her, she took it in silence to protect you.” “When you got into a bar fight and ended up bleeding, she scaled the campus fence at 3 AM to buy you bandages. When your mother called interrogating her about whether you had a new girlfriend, she lied through her teeth to cover for you.” Chloe took another aggressive step forward, forcing Tristan to lean back. “Abby stands barefoot on the pavement for five minutes and your heart bleeds for her? When Serena had a stomach hemorrhage, who rushed her to the emergency room?! Where the hell were you?!” Tristan’s lips pressed together into a thin, bloodless line. “I didn’t know…” “You didn’t know?” Chloe let out a sharp, venomous laugh. “What exactly didn’t you know? You knew she woke up at 6 AM every single morning to buy you breakfast. You knew she memorized your entire class schedule. You knew she liked every single post you ever made. You knew absolutely everything. You just pretended you were blind.” Abby shrank back, trying to make herself look smaller. Tristan stood rooted to the spot, completely paralyzed. I walked over and stood right next to Chloe. “Tristan,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “Do you remember my birthday during junior year of college? You asked me what I wanted as a gift.” He stared at me, his breathing shallow. “I told you I just wanted you to take me to the movies. You told me you were too busy. You said you had to help your girlfriend at the time pick out a present for someone. Later that night, I went to the theater alone. I saw the two of you standing by the entrance. You were holding the luxury bag she bought, and she had her arm linked through yours.” He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. “You saw me that night,” I continued, my voice entirely void of emotion. “You waved at me from across the lobby. And then you put your arm around her waist and walked into the theater.” A gust of wind blew a lock of his hair across his forehead. “Seven years,” I said. “If you had treated me like a human being for even one single second of those seven years, I wouldn’t be standing here right now.” He took a desperate step forward. “Serena…” “Don’t take another step.” Chloe threw her arm out, pointing a finger directly at his chest. “Don’t let your dirty shoes taint the ground Serena walks on.” Tristan stopped dead in his tracks. He stared at me. Something foreign and desperate was shifting in his eyes. “I didn’t know…” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I thought you… you never explicitly said the words.” Chloe let out a sound of pure disgust. “How many times did she have to say it?! She told you, ‘Tristan, I love you,’ and you told her to stop joking around. She said, ‘Tristan, I am completely serious,’ and you told her, ‘I like the way things are.’ She begged you, ‘Tristan, can you please just look at me?’ and the very next week, you started dating Abby.” Abby flinched, pulling her coat tighter around herself. Tristan stood completely immobilized. The two handprints on his face still hadn’t faded. One on each cheek, glowing bright red like a pair of grotesque clown paints under the streetlights. I stared at him in silence for three agonizing seconds. Then, I turned around. “Let’s go.” Chloe immediately followed, linking her arm tightly through mine. There were no footsteps behind us. No one chased us. After walking about twenty paces, I finally glanced back over my shoulder. He was still standing in the exact same spot. The wind was whipping his shirt around his torso. The harsh glare of the streetlamp cast deep shadows over his face, making his expression unreadable. Abby was crouched on the ground nearby, blindly searching for something in the dark. Chloe pulled out her phone, aimed it backward, and snapped a photo of the pathetic scene. “I am keeping this,” she declared, sliding the phone back into her pocket. “If you ever lose your mind and feel a shred of pity for him in the future, I will use this to smack some sense back into you.” I raised my hand and flagged down another taxi. “I will never feel pity for him again.”

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The A-list actor suddenly announced his secret marriage and a child. Twitter exploded. And my world went green with envy. Secretly married to Liam Blackwood for three years, how could I not know if we had a child? Consumed by fury, I immediately signed up for a dating reality show, seeking my second chance at love. But to my utter shock, the very next second, #ActorBringsKidToDatingShow instantly became the top trending topic. 1 Twitter crashed. #LiamBlackwoodUnlockedDadStatus #LiamBlackwoodSecretMarriageChild #AnotherKidInShowbiz The trending topics exploded. Liam Blackwood’s sudden announcement caught everyone off guard. “What the hell?!” “Ahhh, what’s going on?! I thought it was a Photoshopped image, but it’s real! My hands are shaking, help!” “Unbelievable.” Netizens were buzzing, mostly with well wishes. After all, Liam Blackwood had maintained a low profile with no scandals since his debut, never cultivating a single status persona. Just as everyone was forwarding their blessings and digging for information about the wife… Little did they know, the wife herself had been staring at his official tweet for five full minutes. For a moment, I even wondered if I was dreaming. The wife was me, yet it also felt like it wasn’t. Secret marriage? That part was true. But a child??? As Liam Blackwood’s legal wife of three years, how could I not know if we had a child? It felt like I’d been cheated on. Not sure, let me check again. Given his past behavior, what if his “son” referred to a cat or a dog? But fate, it seemed, was thoroughly displeased with me for making excuses for a man. The hashtag #LiamBlackwood’sSon’sFacePhoto quickly shot up to the third spot on the trending list, right before my eyes. Seeing the child’s photo, I really couldn’t deceive myself anymore. He and Liam Blackwood’s faces were practically carved from the same mold. And judging by his height, the child was probably around four years old. So, Liam Blackwood had cheated on me before we even got married?! I pursed my lips, wanting to cry. But a woman doesn’t shed tears lightly; why cry for a jerk? I looked up, blinked hard, and blocked all contact methods for that scumbag. After a moment of silence, I still couldn’t calm down. I unblocked Liam Blackwood, then dialed his number. He picked up instantly. I started with a cold laugh, then launched into a machine-gun tirade, rapid-firing insults. “You scumbag! You had a child and still lied to me.” “You look like a decent human being, but I never saw your true rotten nature! You really can’t judge a book by its cover!” “Divorce! The assets are mine, you leave with nothing!” “Yolanda, let me expl—” “Get lost!” Without giving the jerk time to react, I slammed the phone down and blocked him again. Explain? More like make excuses! Just as I was consumed with rage, another call came in. “Miss Dawson, hello. I’m a staff member from the ‘Finding My Spark’ show. You declined us once before, but we’d like to try again. Would you reconsider?” Finding My Spark? I remembered it. It was a dating show where six single contestants would live together in a villa for a month. I had declined before because I was married. But now… Heh, I was going to find my second spring. 2 I tossed the signed divorce papers aside and packed my bags that very night. The dating show was live-streamed, starting at 7 AM and ending at 9 PM. Before the show began, all electronic devices were confiscated. The excuse was to prevent being disturbed by online information and to encourage us to show our true selves. The first season of the show had been a huge success, so when this season’s live stream started, a massive audience poured in. “Here we are, here we are~” “Hoo-hoo-hoo, new couples to ship!” I was the last to arrive. After entering the villa, I greeted the other contestants first. “Hello everyone, my name is Yolanda Dawson, and I’m a writer.” “Wow wow wow, a beauty! So pretty!” “Ahhh, it’s Yolanda! She’s on a dating show too!” “Who’s Yolanda? Am I out of the loop?” “To the person above, Yolanda is a best-selling author! ‘Addiction,’ which was a massive hit online, was written by her. Super impressive!” “I know that one! So it’s her!” As the comments scrolled, the viewers seemed to notice something. “Why does it look like there’s another guest outside?” “Holy cow! It’s Liam Blackwood!” The newcomer was tall and slender, with handsome features. His cool, pale skin contrasted sharply with his all-black attire, creating an unmentionable allure. What was even more jaw-dropping was that he was holding a child’s hand?! “Hello everyone, I’m Liam Blackwood, a contestant.” This time, not only the comments section but the entire internet exploded. #ActorBringsKidToDatingShow immediately topped the trending list. “Ahhhhh, it’s really Liam Blackwood! He’s on a dating show?!” “Liam Blackwood is married with a kid, why is he on a dating show? Isn’t this cheating?!” Facing the online debate, Liam Blackwood’s studio quickly responded: “Mrs. Blackwood, due to some misunderstanding, impulsively joined this dating show. Mr. Blackwood is simply here to pursue his wife. Everyone, please don’t worry.” “My whole family is shocked; you can play it like this?!” “Hahaha, Mrs. Blackwood is amazing!” “First time seeing something like this, interesting, rushing to watch the live stream.” “There are three girls on the dating show, who is Liam Blackwood’s wife?” Regardless of the uproar online, we, who were filming the show, knew nothing. The moment I saw Liam Blackwood, I froze. I knew he was bold. But I never imagined he’d come directly to the dating show, and with a kid, no less? When I snapped back to reality, I casually lifted my gaze, only to find Liam Blackwood looking at me with an unreadable expression. I involuntarily swallowed, discreetly shifting my gaze, then suddenly met the eyes of the child next to him. The child’s eyes lit up, looking eager, and at the same time, a premonition of dread washed over me. My inner self screamed, Don’t come over here! But often, what you fear most comes true. Next, the child flashed a big smile at me, pattered over to me, and in a loud voice declared: “Mommy!” 3 Time instantly froze; the entire world fell silent. My mind was a blank. Suddenly, one of the guests’ water glasses slipped from their hand, clattering to the floor with a “thud.” Instantly, the room erupted. “!!!” “Is it Yolanda?! Is it?! Is it?!” “Ahhh, it is! You can tell from the same frame that the kid looks a lot like Yolanda!” All eyes were on me. Under everyone’s gaze, I forced a smile, crouched down to be at eye level with the child, and was just about to speak. His eyes darted around, then he said, “Daddy said that the person I like best here is my mommy, and I like you best here.” “Oh, and my name is Sam!” Then he paused, his face turning slightly red, shyly glanced at me, and continued, “You can call me ‘sweetheart’ too.” My face stiffened. Although the child was adorable, the comments section was going wild. “Ahhh, is Yolanda the wife or not??” “I don’t know, they seem kind of unfamiliar.” “Yolanda = favorite person = mommy = YES!” Ultimately, Sam’s pleading gaze softened my heart, and I couldn’t resist pinching his cheek. After all, children are innocent. I gently smiled, and as I uttered the first syllable of “sweetheart,” I was pulled to my feet. Seeing it was Liam Blackwood, I immediately pulled my hand away, stepping back to put some distance between us. His hand hung in mid-air, his eyes dim. Now he was trying to act all affectionate? I carelessly shifted my gaze and noticed Sam glaring angrily at him. Oh, Liam Blackwood wasn’t even favored by his own son. “The staff said it’s getting late and asked us to sit down and talk.” The man looked at me. “Alright.” With that, I pulled my luggage and walked towards the living room. I made no move to wait for them. This scene made the comments section fall into deep thought. “…Did my memory fail me? I didn’t see any staff here.” “I didn’t either! Liam Blackwood is so sneaky, interrupting Yolanda because he doesn’t want her to call his son ‘sweetheart’?” “The studio said the wife came to the dating show because she was angry. Yolanda seems to dislike Liam Blackwood, so I think she’s the wife!” “Don’t be so sure, maybe she’s just trying to avoid suspicion?” I found a small sofa and sat down. Liam Blackwood followed and sat next to me. I rolled my eyes internally. So many seats, and he had to squeeze in with me. I pressed my eye sockets, telling myself to endure it. I absolutely couldn’t expose my relationship with Liam Blackwood; we were getting divorced anyway. Once everyone was seated, the director began to read the show’s schedule. “Rooms have been assigned. Please unpack your things and then gather here again.” My room was on the second floor; I had to carry my luggage up the stairs. As soon as I pushed my suitcase to the bottom of the stairs, Liam Blackwood picked it up. He was smiling at me, “I’ll help you.” I didn’t refuse, simply offering a polite “Thank you.” His smile froze, his pupils trembled slightly, looking as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t. I raised an eyebrow, having already expected this reaction. After all, I had never been so polite to him before. 4 By the time I finished unpacking, it was almost evening. On the first day of the show, the production team was generous, providing plenty of ingredients. We just had to cook ourselves. Everyone divided tasks: those who could cook, cooked; those who couldn’t, helped out or washed dishes after dinner. I couldn’t cook, but I used to help Liam Blackwood often, so I had some experience. In the end, two people were chosen to cook: Liam Blackwood and a female contestant. Two people were chosen to help: me and another male contestant. I originally wanted to help the female contestant, planning to stay away from Liam Blackwood. But the director, who had disappeared, suddenly reappeared. He forcibly mandated that teams had to be one male and one female. I had no choice but to go to the area Liam Blackwood was responsible for. He worked very efficiently, and it seemed like there was nothing for me to do to help him. I just stood there, staring at his back. “Yolanda, grab a spoon.” “Okay.” I instinctively responded, handing the spoon to Liam Blackwood. Then I went back to staring at his back. The comments section couldn’t keep quiet. “Ahhh, Yolanda! He called her Yolanda!” “The key is how naturally Yolanda responded!” “Their movements are so practiced! If they’re not a couple, I’ll wash my hair standing on my head!” After what felt like ages, dinner was finally ready. I was already starving, my stomach rumbling, and eagerly rushed to serve the dishes. “Ouch!” My hand pricked on something, and it started to bleed. Hearing the sound, Liam Blackwood quickly came over to me. “What’s wrong?” Before I could speak, he spotted the bead of blood and grabbed my finger. He was going to… My pupils contracted, and I quickly pulled my hand away, popping my finger into my mouth first. I mumbled, “I’m fine.” Then I ran off. “Ahhh, screaming chicken emoji.” “Ahhh, ahhh, he wanted to suck it! Why didn’t she let him suck it!” “Ahhh, ahhh, don’t mind me! I’m writhing like a maggot in bed!” During dinner, Liam Blackwood still sat next to me. Although everyone was still getting to know each other, the conversation flowed, and it wasn’t too awkward. Tonight’s meal mostly suited my taste, and I was happily devouring it with my head down. Suddenly, a peeled shrimp appeared in my bowl as if from the heavens. The people at the table fell silent for a moment. I decided to retract my previous statement about the atmosphere not being awkward. After a moment of silence, I finally looked up, narrowing my eyes at the culprit, my tone slightly gritted. “Thank you, Mr. Blackwood.” “You’re welcome, it’s nothing.” The man curved his eyes, a faint smile on his lips. The space seemed to grow even quieter. What exactly did he want? I chuckled, forcing a smile, and then piled several handfuls of cilantro onto his plate. “A return gift, eat up.” According to research, about 15% of the global population dislikes cilantro. Liam Blackwood was one of them. Not just cilantro, but also celery, carrots… even inconspicuous ginger slices. I piled them all onto his plate. “Hahaha, look at Liam Blackwood’s expression! I’m dying of laughter.” “It seems Mrs. Blackwood is really angry; she’s giving him all the things my brother hates to eat.” “But he ate it all, I’m melting, ugh!” “Liam Blackwood, when are you going to make up with Yolanda? I’m so anxious!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “582272”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel