When I heard that Marcus had broken my legs, my daughter, Chloe, didn’t call the police. Instead, she rushed to his house and stabbed him eighteen times. As the police led her away, a reporter interviewed her: “You graduated from a prestigious university, working for a big company, with a brilliant future ahead. Now you’re a murderer. Do you regret it?” Chloe smiled at the camera, “Why should I regret it?” “My mom is the most important person in my life. If I had to do it again, I’d still do the exact same thing.” Chloe’s devotion touched the entire internet, and countless people voluntarily pleaded for her. Even a top lawyer offered to defend her pro bono. Considering Marcus’s long criminal record and the serious injuries he inflicted on me, coupled with the huge public outcry over Chloe’s filial piety, the court ultimately ruled it self-defense and acquitted her. Everyone rejoiced at the verdict. Only I disagreed. I appealed multiple times, demanding a death sentence for Chloe, arguing for a life for a life. But eight appeals, eight losses. Everyone called me a heartless, ungrateful mother. A reporter approached me: “Your daughter has been filial since childhood, excellent in both character and academics. This impulsive act of murder was all for you. Why are you so determined to get the judge to sentence her to death?” I looked at the reporter and said calmly: “If you secretly follow my daughter for two days, you’ll understand why.”

On the first day of filming, the reporter staked out Chloe’s company entrance for a secret live stream. Lying in my hospital bed, I quietly opened the live stream. Under the watchful eyes of numerous netizens, Chloe left work, looking utterly exhausted. But she didn’t go home. Instead, she drove to meet her best friend, Jessica. As soon as they met, Jessica got straight to the point: “Chloe, are you sure you want to sell your car to pay for your mom’s leg treatment?” “You know perfectly well that her leg bones are completely shattered. No matter how much money you pour into it, she won’t fully recover!” Chloe replied without hesitation, “The doctor said there’s still a tiny chance of recovery. Even if it’s one in ten thousand, I don’t want to give up.” “You know how much my mom used to love sports. She’d go hiking and running whenever she had time. To confine her to a wheelchair for the rest of her life—that would be too cruel for her.” Jessica looked at Chloe with a pang in her heart: “What about you?” “Isn’t your current life cruel for you?” “To treat your mom’s legs, you’re selling your car, working odd jobs, and even mortgaged the house you live in.” “You’re thinking so much about her, have you considered yourself?” Chloe’s eyes lowered slightly, but her voice was incredibly firm: “She’s my mom. She’s the most important person in my life.” Seeing Chloe’s sincere and earnest words, the live stream comments exploded: “OMG, I didn’t know until I saw the live stream, this daughter has sacrificed so much for her mom?” “Yeah, she’s truly quietly emptying herself for her mom!” “She’s really the filial daughter who would kill for her mother, she’s making me cry!” Jessica sympathetically gripped Chloe’s hand, saying deeply: “Chloe, I can buy your car, but I genuinely feel it’s not worth it for you!” “You’ve given your all for your mom, but what about her? She’s appealing again and again, wanting you to be sentenced to death!” Chloe’s expression was grave, and she said, word for word: “What she does is her business.” “I’m her only daughter, I have to be good to her.” Seeing this, the comments section boiled over even more: “Damn, I’m crying, what kind of perfect daughter is this?!” “Exactly, someone who’s this filial to her mother, how bad could she be? Why would a mother try to get her executed?!” “I think Elara’s just being difficult on purpose. She doesn’t appreciate such a good daughter, she deserved to have her legs broken!” After completing the transfer paperwork with Jessica, Chloe quickly took the money from the car sale and went home. As soon as she arrived, she immediately started cooking. After preparing the meal, she carefully portioned it into insulated containers, then rushed with the food to the hospital where I was staying.

When I saw Chloe arrive at the hospital downstairs, I turned off the live stream. An invisible camera, installed beforehand in my room, recorded Chloe walking towards me with the food. “Mom, today I made your favorite steamed fish and pork rib soup. Please, try some.” She laid out the steaming hot dishes in front of me. But I didn’t even glance at them, saying faintly: “I don’t feel like eating.” A flicker of disappointment crossed Chloe’s eyes, but she still patiently coaxed: “Mom, the doctor said you need to replenish your nutrition. If you don’t eat, your body won’t be able to handle it.” I looked at her, then suddenly spoke: “I want a freshly baked pastry.” Chloe paused. Her gaze shifted to the window, a hint of difficulty appearing in her expression: “Mom, it’s too late now, and it’s raining heavily outside. The pastry shops are probably all closed.” I said coldly, “But I really want a freshly baked pastry.” “I can’t eat anything else.” Seeing my stubbornness, Chloe was silent for a few seconds. Finally, she nodded, without a trace of resentment on her face: “Okay, I’ll go buy one now.” With that, Chloe quickly turned and left. I picked up my phone and watched as the drone recorded her wandering through the pouring rain, searching shop by shop for a pastry. And the comments section was frantically scrolling: “Damn, this old hag is doing it on purpose, right? Where would you find pastries late at night? And it’s raining so heavily outside, isn’t she intentionally tormenting her?” “Exactly! She doesn’t eat the nutritious meals someone painstakingly cooked for her, but she specifically wants a pastry? Isn’t she completely out of her mind?!” “So disgusting, she must be taking her anger out on her daughter because her appeals failed!” “I’m so mad! Why doesn’t this kind of person just drop dead?!” Two hours later. Chloe returned to the hospital room, breathless. She was soaked to the bone, but the pastry was clutched protectively in her arms, not a drop of water touching it, as if it were a treasure. “Mom, I bought the pastry. It’s still warm, please eat it while it’s hot.” She offered it with a placating smile, carefully pulling the pastry from her embrace and holding it out to me. But my tone was cold: “After all that trouble, I’ve lost my appetite.” “I don’t want to eat anymore.” Chloe’s outstretched hand froze in mid-air. That placating smile instantly filled with sorrow. Seeing this scene, the comments section completely exploded: “Damn, I’m shaking with anger! Is this old hag out of her mind? She had all those nutritious meals prepared for her, but she insisted on pastries, and now that someone braved the rain to get them, she won’t eat them! Is this even a human being?!” “She’s deliberately tormenting her daughter, it makes me want to rush through the screen and slap her twice!” “So disgusting, if someone played games with me like this, I’d teach her a harsh lesson!” “I’m really crying with anger. Her daughter is so good, why is she tormenting her like this?!”

Chloe opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but ultimately just quietly took the pastry back and gently placed it on the bedside table. “I’ll leave it here for you, Mom. Call me if you want to eat it, and I’ll warm it up.” After saying that, Chloe took a shower, then, as usual, quietly sat by my bed and watched over me all night. The first day of the live stream ended. The comments section was filled with curses directed at me. The moment I woke up on the second day, Chloe immediately brought warm water for me to brush my teeth and wash my face. Her movements were gentle, as if she were tending to her most precious treasure. “Mom, I cooked porridge early this morning and even went to get you fresh-baked pastries.” “I didn’t do well yesterday, and you went hungry. I’m sorry.” With that, she ladled out a bowl of porridge, carefully scooped a spoonful, and gently blew on it to cool it. Just as she brought the spoon to my mouth, I suddenly raised my hand and fiercely knocked over the bowl of porridge. “I never said I wanted porridge this morning!” The hot porridge splattered all over Chloe. Her hands turned bright red from the scalding liquid, but she didn’t get angry or upset. Instead, she anxiously moved closer to check on me. Seeing that I hadn’t been splattered with porridge, she immediately let out a sigh of relief: “Thank goodness it didn’t burn you.” With that, she quickly grabbed a towel, but instead of wiping herself first, she meticulously cleaned the porridge stains from my bed rail. Blisters rapidly rose on her scalded hand, yet she didn’t even flinch. Seeing this scene, the comments section of the live stream boiled over again: “Damn, this old hag woke up early just to be disgusting, didn’t she?!” “Just looking at her makes me angry! How can she bully her own daughter like this? Why doesn’t she just die?!” “Sigh, the more I watch, the more I pity this daughter. She’s burned like this and still cares about her mom first.” After wiping the porridge from the bed rail, Chloe crouched down to clean the floor. But as she squatted, her body went limp, and she fainted directly onto the floor. A nurse rushed in at the sound. After helping Chloe onto the bed and examining her, her expression was grave: “How did her fever get so severe? It’s 104 degrees Fahrenheit (40 degrees Celsius)!” Seeing Chloe ill, the live stream audience became utterly furious: “Damn, she must have gotten a high fever from being soaked in the rain last night!” “And I saw during the live stream that Chloe herself didn’t eat anything. Besides working to earn money, she was just taking care of her mom. That much exhaustion, even a saint couldn’t handle it!” “She has such a severe fever and still silently takes care of her mom. How could such a good daughter end up with a monstrous mother?!” “I’m so mad, I really hope this old hag explodes on the spot!” After the nurse took Chloe out of the room for treatment, the reporter called me: “This is the two-day follow-up live stream you wanted? Do you know how much the internet has been cursing you these past two days?” “I’ve followed your daughter for two days; she’s absolutely perfect, and her devotion to you is beyond reproach. Why are you treating her like this?!” I said softly, “Are you sure you captured everything in these two days of live streaming?” The reporter paused for a second: “Of course, I filmed 24/7, missing no details or corners.” “No.” My voice was soft, yet utterly certain: “There’s one crucial place you definitely haven’t seen.” The reporter’s voice immediately became curious: “What place?” I paused for a moment, then said seriously, “Her study.” Hearing me say that, the reporter immediately realized: “Your daughter always closes the door when she goes into her study, and the windows and curtains are tightly drawn. I indeed haven’t filmed inside.” “But it’s just a study. Even if she goes in, she’s probably just working or reading, what’s there to film?” I said deeply, “You’re wrong.” The reporter quickly asked, “Is there something fishy in the study?” I said slowly and deliberately: “Aren’t you curious why I’ve been treating her this way?” “As long as you go into her study, you’ll know everything.” “The house key is under the doormat outside the door.” With that, I hung up the phone. My call with the reporter was broadcast live, real-time, through the hospital room’s surveillance. Suddenly, the comments section of the live stream erupted again:

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Just five minutes ago, I opened my eyes and welcomed my fourth life. In my first life, when I was five, my mom claimed I stole money and accidentally pushed me off the balcony. In my second life, when I was fifteen, she locked me in the attic to force me to give my prestigious early admission spot to my cousin. I starved to death. In my third life, when I was seventeen, she cut my car’s brake lines the night before my driving test. Now, I’m back, two months before my seventeenth birthday. “Autumn, why aren’t you eating?” Mom sat beside me, glancing sideways at my dazed expression. Her eyes, brimming with what looked like care, were actually dissecting me. “Is Mom’s cooking not good? Or has my Autumn grown tired of it?” On the table before me was the same lunch I’d had for seventeen years. I looked up at the woman everyone called “the perfect mother.” I knew that in two months, I would face my fourth “perfect death.” But this time, the creator of this perfect plan would be different.

“Autumn, eat more. You’re still growing.” A piece of fish, meticulously deboned, was gently placed into my bowl. My mother, Eleanor Vance, watched me, her eyes overflowing with an affection that felt like it could drown me. I lowered my head, using the act of shoveling rice to hide the surge of terror and coldness in my gaze. Yes, terror. Even though I had experienced this scene three times before. This time, I was thoroughly prepared, but the pain from the previous three lives was an inescapable memory. Watching my blood drain, my bones shatter during that first fall… Gnawing at my own hands, blood everywhere, my stomach burning with hunger during the second… The car spinning out of control and crashing into the barrier, the searing pain of metal piercing my lungs during the third… My fingertips trembled uncontrollably, and my whole body felt icy. The chilling realization crept over me, a stark reminder. Beneath that facade of gentle affection lay a soul so twisted and malicious. “Thank you, Mom.” I looked up, forcing a smile of loving dependence, the kind a doted-on girl should have. I couldn’t let her see any cracks. In front of her, I had to be the most perfect, most harmless, most obedient daughter. “Silly child, why be formal with Mom?” She reached out, gently smoothing the stray hairs from my forehead. Her fingertips brushing my skin sent a shiver down my spine. Eleanor Vance projected the image of a perfect single mother to the outside world – a renowned professor, a widow whose husband had passed away young. She single-handedly raised her daughter with strength and optimism. All the neighbors, teachers, and relatives were moved by her “greatness.” Only I knew that this “love” was a poison wrapped in honey. After dinner, I voluntarily cleared the table and went to the kitchen to wash the dishes. This was one of my displays of “learning my lesson” in this life. Amidst the rushing water, I mentally sorted through the death points of my previous three lives. At five, it was because I refused her third extracurricular class, wanting to go downstairs and play with other kids. At fifteen, it was because I, through my own efforts, earned the prestigious early admission spot to a top-tier university that she had always wanted for my cousin. At seventeen, it was because I secretly saved money for driving lessons, planning a spontaneous trip to escape her control after getting into college. And each death began when she discovered her puppet was developing its own independent will, attempting to break free from her grasp. “Autumn, the dishes are clean. Come eat some fruit.” Her gentle voice drifted from the living room. “Coming, Mom.” I dried my hands and walked into the living room. She was holding out a plate of sliced apple pieces, each speared with a toothpick, offering them to my mouth. Even though I’d disliked apples since childhood and would instinctively feel nauseous, I still obediently ate them. The cloying sweetness spread in my mouth, yet it made me feel a wave of sickness. I forced myself to swallow. She watched me with satisfaction, as if appraising her own masterpiece. After a moment, Eleanor suddenly said softly: “Autumn, promise Mom you’ll always be Mom’s good little girl, okay?” Her smile remained gentle, but deep within those beautiful eyes, a chilling flicker of possessiveness and contentment shone. “We’ll never be apart.” My heart lurched violently, almost stopping. This sentence, in my previous three lives, she had uttered every single time before she killed me. In that moment, I realized with absolute clarity. No matter how obedient I appeared, the countdown to my fourth death had already begun the moment she saw my driving test practice questions. The plan to kill me had quietly started in her mind. 2. To survive, I had to be proactive. I began to mimic and study the rules of a “perfect daughter” like the most devout apprentice. She liked me in light-colored clothes. Even though she never asked, my wardrobe no longer contained any dark colors. I would even proactively acknowledge her success after putting on light clothes, “Mom really has good taste. The clothes she picked suit me perfectly.” She wanted me to excel academically. I consistently ranked first in my class. When relatives and friends praised me, I would just smile modestly, “Mom trained me so well. My success comes from my mom’s efforts.” She detested me having any secrets. So I would “share” every trivial school matter, playing the role of a naive, completely transparent child. At the same time, I became a ghost. I began searching this prison called “home” for any clues related to my previous deaths. But in my first life, I was too young to fully grasp the patterns until it was too late. So, I thought of the attic where I starved to death in my second life. In this life, as in the second before my mother locked me in it, she used it for storage. It was almost never opened, and I was never allowed to step foot inside. “It’s too dirty in there.” Mom would always look upstairs, muttering cryptically, “My Autumn is a clean and tidy princess, not meant to get even a speck of dust.” “If a little princess gets dirty, she won’t be loved anymore.” So, one afternoon when she went out shopping, I found my chance. She must not have expected me to defy her and enter her forbidden zone. The brass key was still hidden in its familiar spot above the doorframe. “Click.” The sealed door creaked open, and dust billowed out. I seemed to see myself in my second life, huddled in a filthy corner. My hands were covered in blood from gnawing at them, inflamed and festering, swollen and ugly. No longer a trace of a princess, I was murmuring, “Mom, I’m sorry…” before finally closing my eyes. The attic was filled with old junk, emitting a musty smell. My gaze honed in on an inconspicuous old wooden box in the corner. In my previous life, when I was dying of hunger, I had frantically rummaged through here. My nails had left deep scratches on the lid, but I hadn’t found anything to eat. I walked over, brushed away the dust, and those scratches were still faintly visible. The box wasn’t locked. I took a deep breath and yanked it open. There were no terrifying objects inside, nor any food. Only a few of my baby clothes and some old toys I no longer played with. Had I guessed wrong? Unwilling to give up, I reached into the bottom of the box, feeling around. My fingertips brushed against something cold and hard. I pulled out a palm-sized, intricately crafted diamond jewelry box. It was hidden at the very bottom, beneath the old clothes. I took it out, my heart pounding. I had never seen this box before. Even after searching this place so many times in my last life, meticulously going through every corner, I had never found this box. It was secured with a small, old-looking lock, seemingly simple. It was as if the owner hadn’t even thought about me finding it. I found a thin wire. Driven by a fierce desire to live, I carefully fiddled with it. “Snap.” The lock clicked open. 3. I held my breath and slowly opened the lid. No jewels, no ornaments. The box was lined with soft red velvet, and on it lay three things: A small, brittle strand of hair tied with a red string. A rusty, old-fashioned key. A plastic card fragment, clipped to only show the words “Driv” and “Lic.” My blood seemed to freeze instantly. These three items were horrifyingly familiar to me! That hair was torn from the broken balcony railing when I “fell” in my first life! That rusty key was identical to the one in my hand that had opened this door. It looked like the key that locked the attic door in my second life! It should have been thrown away! And that driver’s license fragment? It was my newly acquired license, clutched in my hand when my third “accident” happened! Eleanor Vance didn’t just kill me three times; she was a twisted collector. Keeping “souvenirs” from each of my deaths! My hands trembling, I picked up the strand of hair. At the bottom of the box, there was a yellowed piece of paper, appearing quite old. On it was Eleanor Vance’s handwriting, pressed so hard it almost pierced through the paper. [The most perfect love is eternal possession.] The discovery in the box was like a key, unlocking more overlooked details in my memory. Before each “accident,” Eleanor Vance seemed to take me on a short “mother-daughter getaway.” When I questioned it, she said it was to strengthen our bond. “Autumn, you are the most important person to Mom, but you’re growing up, and Mom’s time with you is getting shorter.” Her gaze was mournful, as if she imagined me leaving her and spreading my wings in the future. She wiped away a tear, “Mom just wants to keep you by her side, to be with you forever.” My heart softened for a moment. I thought she was just a single mother afraid of losing me. So she became frantic, never imagining that her fear of loss would lead her to the most “perfect” way: killing me. The first life, it was a picnic in the countryside. The second, a trip back to the old family homestead to “reminisce.” The third, watching the sunrise from a mountaintop. And each destination was cleverly chosen to be far from crowds, facilitating the “accident.” I could almost certainly say she was selecting the location for the fourth “ceremony.” The unbearable pain, the promising future ahead – I couldn’t just sit back and wait anymore. That weekend, she indeed suggested taking me to the newly opened Grand City Mall, which had a huge indoor glass observation deck. “Autumn, I heard the view there is especially good. Mom wants to see the city skyline with you.” She was loving and gentle. My internal alarm bells shrieked. This day, it was coming even sooner than in my past lives. 4. “But Mom…” The refusal was on my tongue, but I remembered she never allowed me to have my own thoughts. I subtly redirected, “Aren’t you supposed to take me for tutoring this weekend?” With college applications approaching, she wanted me to be a perfect daughter with excellent grades. She paused for only a second before looking at me with genuine sincerity: “Mom doesn’t want you to be too tired. You’ve been working so hard, Mom sees it all. So I thought we could go relax a bit.” Seeing I hadn’t replied, she reached out and took my hand. “Sweetheart, you don’t want to go?” No matter how much I resisted internally, meeting the icy glint in her eyes, I could only nod in agreement. The words “I don’t want to” were like kindling, only fueling the fire she had to kill me. On the observation deck, crowds swirled. Beneath the transparent glass floor was a dizzying drop, like a hundred-story abyss. I looked down, feeling panicked and dizzy, my palms sweating. My mother pulled my hand, leading me to a slightly less crowded area near the edge. “Autumn, look, isn’t it beautiful?” She pointed into the distance, her body subtly shifting to stand slightly behind and to my side. The déjà vu of falling and the blood-red haze before my eyes warned me: this moment might be the end of this life. Through the reflective glass curtain wall, shining like a mirror. I clearly saw her hand, hanging at her side, fingers slightly curled, as if preparing something. Just as her shoulder twitched, and her arm was about to lift – in that split second of critical danger – I suddenly squatted down, exclaiming loudly: “Mom, my shoelace is untied!” I moved out of her path, out of the trajectory where she could push me, and bent my head as if truly focused on tying my shoelace. Her poised arm missed its target. Her body stumbled forward a step from inertia, her hand awkwardly bracing against the glass wall. In that moment, reflected in the glass floor beneath my feet. I clearly caught the cold malice that hadn’t quite faded from her face, and a fleeting look of surprise, annoyance. And a hint of being exposed, a momentary flicker of guilt. Though it vanished instantly, in that single moment, my perfect mother dropped her disguise. “You clumsy child, always so careless.” She quickly recomposed her expression, her tone chiding. She reached out and smilingly gripped my arm tightly. But the chill in her eyes hadn’t receded, and her nails pressed so hard they almost dug into my flesh. In that moment, I felt like I was plunging into an abyss. I had dodged her plan, and she, it seemed, now knew this was no accident. That night, I pretended to be asleep. After she quietly closed my bedroom door, I heard voices from the living room, cold and agitated. “She found out. She knows! The plan must be moved up; it has to be done before her eighteenth birthday.”

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Late that night, my wife stumbled home, disheveled. Her stockings were shredded, her skirt barely clung to her waist, and her skin was a canvas of angry red marks. The moment she walked through the door, she rushed into the bathroom, desperate to scrub away the marks on her body. She scrubbed herself raw. I wanted to take her to the police. But after countless washes, there was no bodily fluid evidence left on her. The police ultimately refused to open a case, citing insufficient evidence. Rage consumed me. I stormed into her office and beat that bastard boss within an inch of his life. That landed me seven days in a holding cell. Not only that, but after the incident, my wife developed severe psychological issues, refusing my touch for two whole months. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I dropped the bombshell: I wanted a divorce, right there in front of her entire family. Seraphina stared at me, disbelief etched on her face. “Was it my fault I was assaulted? You’re divorcing me because of this?” I looked at her coldly, my voice devoid of emotion. “Yes. Precisely because you were assaulted, I’m divorcing you.”

Seraphina’s face was drenched in tears, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and utter betrayal. “Liam, have you wanted to say these things for a long time?” “Did you want to divorce me two months ago? Have you always thought I was… dirty?” I watched Seraphina, who was practically sobbing, and felt absolutely nothing inside. “I don’t care what you think. This divorce is happening, today.” A flicker of dismay crossed Seraphina’s eyes, as if she hadn’t expected my attitude to be so firm. Brenda’s face instantly morphed into a thundercloud. She was about to say something, but Arthur, my father-in-law, grabbed her wrist. “Liam, I know this is hard for you to get over, but Seraphina is a victim here.” “She didn’t want this to happen. She’s suffering enough. You two are married. This is where your commitment to each other truly gets tested.” Brenda quickly chimed in. “That’s right, Liam! Seraphina has been a good wife, hasn’t she? Look at her! She’s so beautiful, so successful at her job. You were lucky to marry her!” “Alright, stop being ridiculous! You’re a man, aren’t you? Running out on your wife now? Think about what people will say! Come on, apologize to Seraphina!” Seraphina had composed herself by then. Following her parents’ lead, she gently took my hand. “It’s okay, Liam, this isn’t your fault. I know you’ve been hurting too these past few months.” “I don’t need your apology. Let’s just put this behind us and start fresh, okay?” The other relatives from Seraphina’s side, seated in the living room, also began to speak up. “Liam, this is really not like you. No one wanted this to happen to Seraphina. You’re a man; you should be more understanding.” “Actually, you’re partly to blame. Tell me, Seraphina was working so late, why didn’t you go pick her up? If you had, this wouldn’t have happened, would it?” “Alright, don’t say things you’ll regret. Divorce? You two are still young. This is nothing. You have your whole lives ahead of you.” Hope flickered back into Seraphina’s eyes. “Liam, I know you’ve had a tough two months too.” “I’ll adjust, I promise. Let’s just pretend this never happened, okay?” As Seraphina spoke, her voice caught, and she started to choke up again. Anyone listening would think she was making some grand sacrifice. I took a step back, ignoring the murmurs of the relatives, and spoke in a cold voice. “Seraphina.” “This divorce, I’m going through with it.”

Seraphina’s expression froze, and her body went rigid. Arthur finally lost his temper. “Liam! You’re a beast!” “Divorcing your wife over something like this? You’re not a man!” I shot Arthur a cold, contemptuous glance, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “You’re a man, are you? If your wife cheated on you, could you stay with her?” Brenda’s finger trembled as she pointed at my nose, her voice cracking with rage. “How is that the same thing?! Did Seraphina *want* this to happen?!” I didn’t answer Brenda, instead looking down at Seraphina, who stood before me. Two months ago, in the early hours of the morning, Seraphina had stumbled home. She looked utterly distraught, her stockings torn to shreds. Her skirt hung crookedly around her waist, as if it might fall off at any moment. I frantically asked her what had happened. But she seemed not to see me, walking straight into the bathroom and locking the door, scrubbing her body repeatedly. It wasn’t until the next day, when her emotions had somewhat stabilized, that I learned she had been forced by her boss during overtime. She had fought desperately but to no avail. I was furious, pulling Seraphina along to report it to the police. But after countless washes, there was no bodily fluid evidence left on her. The incident itself had occurred in the boss’s office late that night. And conveniently, the company’s surveillance cameras were ‘under maintenance’ that night. Not a single piece of video evidence. Ultimately, the police closed the case, saying there wasn’t enough evidence. Watching Seraphina, utterly distraught and drowning in tears every single day, broke my heart. I stormed into her office and beat that bastard boss within an inch of his life. That landed me seven days in a holding cell. Now, two months have passed. Only Seraphina and that boss truly know the whole truth of what happened. A bitter, self-deprecating smile twisted my lips at the thought. “Seraphina, why am I divorcing you?” “Don’t you know?” Seraphina froze, a flicker of guilt in her eyes. I took a step back, putting more distance between us. “After it happened, I told you to stop working and rest at home. I told you I could support you and our family. But you refused, insisting on going to work every day, to face the very boss you called ‘disgusting’.” I could practically *see* Seraphina exhale in relief. Then, as if on cue, she started crying pitifully again. “We’ve only been married two years. The mortgage, the car payments, we need money for everything. How could I let you bear all that burden alone?” “Liam, do you think I’m a disgrace? Do you think I’m bringing shame to our name by still going out and working?” “But I’m doing it for you, for our family!” I scoffed. “What it’s *really* for, you know deep down yourself.” Hearing the conversation between Seraphina and me, the relatives’ outrage hit a boiling point. “Liam! You can’t even tell right from wrong! Seraphina has gone through such a terrible ordeal, and not only do you not care about her, you actually think she’s shameful for working outside the home!” “Isn’t she doing it for you? She’s going through all this agony, still dragging herself to work, facing that monster every day! Don’t you think *she’s* suffering more than you?!” “I think *you’re* the monster! You have no humanity!” Arthur couldn’t listen anymore. He grabbed Seraphina’s hand, intending to lead her out. “Come on! Let’s go home with Dad and Mom! We have nothing to say to this animal!” But Seraphina pulled her hand free from Arthur’s grasp, her eyes brimming with tears, a picture of determined strength. “It’s okay, Dad. Liam and I are husband and wife. No matter what happens, I’ll face it with him.” “Liam just hasn’t thought things through yet. You two go home first; I’ll talk to him. Don’t worry about me.” Arthur’s face was etched with anger and heartache for his daughter. He seemed to want to say more, but faced with Seraphina’s tear-streaked face, he ultimately couldn’t bring himself to scold her. Instead, he turned to me. “Liam, let me tell you! You’d better think this through!” “You’re all alone in this world! If you divorce my daughter, what are you going to do? Who’s going to stand by you then?” With that, Arthur and Brenda, along with the other relatives, turned and left, not sparing me another glance. Silence descended upon the living room. I took a long look at Seraphina, then turned and went upstairs into the master bedroom. The moment I entered the room, I locked the door and dialed my lawyer cousin Rachel. “Rachel, any progress on what I asked you to investigate?” Hearing Rachel’s answer, a huge weight lifted off my chest. “Good. The trial might be in a few days. I’m going to need your help.”

The next day, I walked in after working late, and the scene before me stopped me in my tracks. The dining table was set with a beautifully arranged meal, candles flickering romantically on either side. Seraphina, dressed in a sexy nightgown, sat at the table. Seeing me return, Seraphina smiled brightly. “Honey, come sit! Look what I’ve prepared for you.” When I didn’t move, Seraphina got up and took my hand, leading me to the table. “I didn’t sleep a wink last night, thinking so much. These past two months, it hasn’t just been me suffering; you have too.” “I was so lost in my own pain, I didn’t consider your feelings. I won’t do that again. Let’s start a new life together.” “Honey, let’s stop this fighting, okay?” As Seraphina spoke, she subtly pushed out her chest. After two years of marriage, I knew exactly what Seraphina’s little gesture was supposed to mean. Ever since what happened two months ago, Seraphina had vehemently resisted my touch. Forget intimacy; sometimes, if I just moved a little closer to her, she would shriek in terror. It seemed she thought I wanted a divorce because she wouldn’t let me touch her, and this elaborate display was her attempt to fix that. Hah, she really underestimated me. I pulled my hand free and turned on the living room lights. “Seraphina, stop with these pointless theatrics.” “I told you, no matter what, this divorce is happening.” Seraphina froze, seemingly shocked that even after all this, I still wouldn’t agree. But before she could speak, two figures burst out of the guest room. Brenda and Arthur stood before me, faces contorted with fury. Arthur pointed a finger at my nose, but his words were directed at Seraphina. “How could I have given birth to such a useless daughter! How could you fall for a man like this? Look at you, you’ve gone to such lengths and he *still* wants a divorce! He’s just playing with you!” Brenda’s face was also furious, but mixed with a mother’s pain for her daughter. She pulled Seraphina behind her. “I’ve lived long enough to know what’s what! This animal must be cheating!” “What kind of society do we live in where someone would insist on divorce over *this*? Besides, if you wanted a divorce, why didn’t you do it two months ago? Why *now*?” “Liam, I’m asking you, do you have someone else?!” Seraphina looked utterly bewildered, even her crying stopped. “Liam, is what Mom saying true?” Without waiting for my answer, she mumbled on. “Yes, it must be. These past two months, you’ve been coming home late every night. I asked you what you were doing, and you wouldn’t say.” “So you really *do* have someone else! Liam! How could you do this to me?!” Seraphina’s nerve, trying to twist this around on me, was almost comical. “Who’s cheating here? Who has someone else?” “Seraphina, your parents are right here. Do you dare tell them—” Before I could finish, Brenda, overcome with rage, lunged at me, all teeth and claws. “I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you, you animal! You’re not even human!” “My daughter went through such a terrible thing, and you’re out there seeing other people?! You’re a monster!” I hadn’t expected Brenda to suddenly lash out. Her nails raked across my face before I could even react, leaving several stinging, bloody scratches. But she was an elder. No matter how bad things were between Seraphina and me, I couldn’t lay a hand on her. I quickly stepped back, putting distance between Brenda and me. Seraphina was also startled and quickly pulled her mother back. I looked at Arthur, who still had a few shreds of reason left. “Take her home.” “I’ll say it again: if you don’t want me to make this ugly, then let’s get this divorce done quickly.”

Arthur glared at me, his expression pure venom, like he wanted to rip me to shreds. A moment later, he managed to control his emotions and turned to Brenda and Seraphina. “What are you waiting for! Let’s go!” Three days later, Seraphina came home again. The moment she saw me, her eyes immediately welled up. “I called you, you didn’t answer. I texted you, you didn’t reply.” “Liam, what are you doing? Why are you treating me like this?” I didn’t even look up, busy packing Seraphina’s belongings. “We’re getting a divorce. There’s no need to stay in touch.” Seraphina’s face changed. She furiously wiped away her tears, took a shaky breath, and then, through gritted teeth, she spoke each word like a dagger. “Liam, I’m asking you one last time. Are you absolutely sure you want to divorce me?” I didn’t answer, didn’t even lift my head. Seeing my prolonged silence, Arthur, furious, slammed a stack of documents at my feet. “Then divorce!” “But Seraphina did nothing wrong in this. Since you insist on divorce, then you walk away with nothing!” I put down what I was holding, picked up the divorce papers from the floor, and sneered. “Whether she did anything wrong in this marriage, you should ask your ‘good’ daughter.” “You want me to walk away with nothing? You people are truly disgusting.” The instant my words fell, Brenda sprang out from behind Arthur, raising her purse, intending to smash it on my head. “I knew I shouldn’t have let my daughter marry you! You good-for-nothing cheat! A rotten scumbag! You little animal, are you actually trying to say my daughter is the one at fault?” “Let me tell you, either you walk away with nothing, or we’ll see you in court! I won’t let you take a single penny from our family!” I grabbed Brenda’s purse, and her words brought a sense of relief to my heart. Going to court was exactly what I wanted. Brenda, thinking I was scared of her because I hadn’t replied, yanked her purse back and continued her tirade. “You ungrateful wretch! You’re all alone in this world! If our family hadn’t been so understanding about your… origins, you think you would’ve ever landed my daughter?” “Now you’ve got someone else on the side, and you’re using some flimsy excuse to divorce my daughter, trying to pin all the blame on her?” “Let me tell you, you think you can just get away with that? Not a chance!” I couldn’t be bothered to argue with them anymore. “If we can’t agree, then we’ll see each other in court.” “Talking more is pointless. Let’s let the judge decide.” A week later, Seraphina’s and my divorce case finally opened in court. Many of Seraphina’s relatives came, packing the observer’s gallery to the brim. They were all there to support Seraphina, looking at me with undisguised disdain and anger. Before the hearing, Seraphina stood before me, her eyes red, and spoke. “Liam, do we really have to go this far?” “Just say no, and we’ll go home. We’ll live a good life together, and we’ll never mention the past, okay?” I couldn’t be bothered to say more to her. I walked into the courtroom without looking back. After the trial began, the judge reviewed the documents submitted by Seraphina’s side, then looked up at me. “Ms. Seraphina’s ordeal was an accident. You can file for divorce, but your additional demands are unreasonable.” “In this situation, Mr. Liam, you cannot demand Ms. Seraphina walk away with nothing.” I stood up, looking directly at the judge. “I have other evidence.”

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My patient had a fever of 105.8 degrees Fahrenheit, and because I refused to prescribe fever reducers without a blood test, her mother later live-streamed a furious attack against me online. “Look at this heartless doctor, everyone! My child had a scorching 105.8-degree fever, and she insisted we get a blood test and wait for the results, stubbornly refusing to give her a fever reducer for an emergency!” “Healthcare is such a mess these days; it’s impossible to get affordable care, and it’s all because of doctors like you who order excessive tests!” “Angel in white? I see a greedy, corrupt opportunist! If my child suffers brain damage, can you pay for that?!” The video quickly ignited public outrage, and #MostImmoralPediatrician trended nationwide. I was doxxed and bombarded with online harassment. I even received a cursed package filled with blood-stained voodoo dolls and threatening letters. Meanwhile, Eleanor Vance, crying in her live stream about her child’s persistent high fever, received countless donations. Desperate to help, I ignored the insults. After donating a huge sum, I successfully connected with her via video call: “Ms. Vance, your child is this sick; you must take her to the hospital immediately for a blood test, then we can prescribe the right medication…” But she suddenly knelt down: “My daughter has a bleeding disorder and anemia. How can she withstand having so much blood drawn at once? Isn’t that going to kill her?!” “I just want her to get well. Why is it so hard?!”

With a startled gasp, Eleanor Vance cut off the live stream. I had tried to persuade her, but if she wouldn’t take her child to the hospital, it wasn’t like I could go to her house and forcibly draw blood. I took a deep breath, trying to suppress the churning emotions within me. My professional instinct still prompted me to immediately report this serious online defamation and threat to the hospital’s administration and security. However, the online storm moved far faster than real-world procedures. After verifying my account with my real name, I shared an authoritative pediatric fever treatment guideline. I attached screenshots from reputable medical journals and tagged Eleanor Vance. I tried my best to explain in simple language why children with high fevers needed blood tests for accurate medication. Just minutes after my post went up, comments and private messages flooded in like a dam breaking. “Shameless! Now you want to clear your name? Why didn’t you do this earlier? Honestly, how much dirty money have you made?” “Still talking about guidelines at a time like this? Is a child’s life less important than your stupid rules? Will you die if you don’t earn a few extra bucks?” “This guideline couldn’t possibly be made up on the fly, could it?” “Look closely, everyone! This bitch is just trying to shirk responsibility!” In less than ten minutes, the number of abusive comments soared past ten thousand. Some people screenshot the guideline, stamping it with “FORGED EVIDENCE” in red letters. Others mocked my medical jargon word for word, claiming I was putting on a show to fool the public. A nurse, verified as working at my hospital, posted a comment: [To my knowledge, this doctor has always been fond of excessive testing.] This comment immediately became the top-rated one. Before long, someone dug up an old photo of me from college. In the picture, I was wearing a lab coat, pulling an all-nighter in the lab. The caption, however, was twisted into: [Breaking news! Back then, her favorite thing to do was use her uniform to seduce professors in the lab!] Before I could even defend myself, another post appeared, claiming to be from my high school classmate: “She’s always been this cold and unfeeling. When our classmate was writhing in pain from acute gastroenteritis, she calmly kept doing her homework.” The post went viral. Two colleagues, unable to stand it, openly defended me with their real names, but they too were swept into the storm. Even the entire hospital faced a boycott from netizens. Dr. Peterson called me into his office, incandescent with rage: “It’s just a fever reducer for her child, isn’t it? Why are you so stubborn? Don’t we usually provide fever reducers for free in such special cases right away?” “I know, but her child cannot be given it! Especially not for free…” Before I could continue my defense, reporters who had disguised themselves and snuck in surrounded Dr. Peterson and me. “Dr. Hayes, it seems all of this is your personal action and has nothing to do with the hospital, right?” To distance himself from me, Dr. Peterson immediately declared to the reporters that I had betrayed my medical ethics for money. “I hereby solemnly declare that the hospital will terminate Dr. Isabella Hayes’ employment and pursue all her professional misconduct and illegal gains!” Like a stray dog, I was thrown out by security at the hospital entrance, left to face the furious mob of netizens nearby. Only when I was beaten, bruised, and curled up on the ground did the crowd scatter like a flock of birds as a patrol car passed by. That night, I don’t know how I survived. My eyes were bloodshot from exhaustion, desperately searching for evidence to clear my name. But before I could find anything, my family also suffered. I finally drifted off as dawn broke, only to be startled awake by my sister Mia’s tearful call: “Bella, Mom was cursed at today when she took me to school, and our doorstep is covered in trash. Mom said, don’t send her money anymore, she can’t use it…” “This is a disaster!” In the background, I could hear my mother’s faint sobs. After hanging up, Liam, my boyfriend of three years, also sent a message: [Bella, I believe you’re innocent, but the public pressure is too immense. My parents want me to keep my distance from you for now. Let’s not contact each other for a while.] A cold, unopened takeout container sat on my table, but I had no appetite. My phone screen constantly popped up with news alerts. Eleanor Vance’s new video was trending again. She appeared without makeup, wearing black-rimmed glasses, clutching a framed photo of her daughter. Her voice was hoarse: “This unscrupulous doctor killed my child! I’ve already appointed a lawyer. See you in court, I will not accept a settlement!”

Just one night with a high fever, and her child was gone? I was utterly bewildered, but the suspicion I’d harbored grew stronger. The online bullying escalated, and the news of Lily’s death was like a match thrown into a powder keg, igniting a firestorm that left me utterly devastated. I knew silence equaled guilt. I had to act. I started a live stream and publicly released a statement, proposing a forensic autopsy for the deceased child to determine the true cause of death. This was the only direct and scientific way I could think of to prove my innocence. However, this last stand only ignited the fuse for a new wave of anger. Eleanor Vance cried until she almost fainted in her own live stream: “My daughter is gone, why won’t they let her rest in peace? That malicious woman, she won’t even spare my child’s body! She just wants to destroy the evidence and clear her own name!” Her family also appeared in interviews, tearfully condemning my heartlessness and cruelty. Netizens’ fury reached its peak: “They want to dissect a child who’s already dead? Dr. Hayes, are you even human?” “This is clearly stalling for time, trying to evade responsibility!” “Support Eleanor! Don’t let this vicious woman get away with it!” “Does she have a powerful backer? She’s so arrogant!” My insistence seemed so pale and powerless against the surging tide of public opinion. Even the police came to my door, gently advising me: “Dr. Hayes, the family is emotionally agitated and firmly refuses an autopsy. We can’t force it. How about you apologize first, calm the family down, and then we can discuss it further…” “But I haven’t done anything wrong. Why should I apologize?” To my dismay, after the police left, the paparazzi, who had been staking out my home, posted a recording of this conversation online. The netizens’ emotions were reignited. “A butcher who thinks nothing of human lives! And she still claims she’s not wrong!” “Eleanor, please don’t give up. We all support you in fighting for your rights!” I found myself in deeper trouble. With the path to an autopsy blocked, I couldn’t produce direct evidence to prove my innocence. Eleanor Vance, on the other hand, firmly occupied the moral high ground, receiving sympathy and financial support from across the internet. I shut myself in my dimly lit room, curtains tightly drawn, as if that could shield me from the devouring stares and vicious whispers outside. But every search term with “Isabella Hayes” in it felt like a poisoned dagger, repeatedly tearing at my nerves. “Ding—” A new push notification popped up. It was from Eleanor Vance. She posted a picture of a cemetery. The caption read: [My daughter, Mom chose a new home for you. There’s no pain there, and no heartless doctors. Mom will definitely get justice for you! @IsabellaHayes, can you sleep at night?] The comment section was instantly flooded with “Go Mom!”, “Rest in peace, angel baby!”, and “Karma will get her.” Immediately after, a link for a “Fundraiser for Eleanor Vance’s Legal Fight” was launched. The target amount: five hundred thousand dollars. The progress bar under the donation link grew almost visibly. Countless anonymous IDs left messages, expressing sympathy for Eleanor and Lily, and curses against me. I watched the constantly ticking numbers, feeling a chill shoot straight from my feet to the top of my head. This wasn’t a fundraiser. This was a grotesque spectacle of profiteering, using a child’s death! And I was the sacrifice, nailed to a pillar of shame, to highlight their supposed kindness and righteousness. No, I couldn’t just sit here and let myself be slandered. The autopsy path was blocked; I had to find another angle. Lily’s sudden death, followed by her swift cremation, could only mean Eleanor’s secret was about to unravel.

I tried to contact Chloe, the nurse who claimed to be my colleague, but found she had blocked me. She seemed to have anticipated that I would confront her when I was at my wit’s end. Undeterred, I dug out my college contact list and called every classmate who might remember that lab photo. “Bella, it’s not that I don’t want to help, but you know how people online are now… I’m scared!” “My wife is pregnant and can’t handle stress, I’m sorry…” Most calls went to a long busy signal before hanging up automatically. The few that were answered ended quickly with hesitant stutters and sighs. My supposedly deep friendships from school felt as thin as water-soaked paper in the face of the online mob. But I wasn’t disheartened. Dragging my utterly broken body, I returned to the hospital, hoping to ask former close colleagues to help me access Lily Vance’s past medical records through the internal system. Even a tiny clue might help piece together the truth. “I’m sorry, Dr. Hayes… You’ve already resigned and no longer have access to the internal system. Besides, this involves patient privacy…” My former colleagues, who used to greet me with smiles, now avoided my gaze, whispering so low I could barely hear them. Meanwhile, the donation page for Eleanor Vance continued to joyfully tick upwards, quickly surpassing the half-million-dollar mark. She posted a new video, without makeup, her eyes swollen like peaches, bowing deeply to the camera: “Thank you, everyone! My daughter in heaven will bless all kind-hearted people! I’ll use all this money to hire the best lawyers to make sure the murderer pays! Once we win, I’ll donate all the money to a children’s foundation!” The comment section was full of praise for her righteousness and kindness. And I was being screamed at by countless people to die. As I returned to my apartment building, a shout startled me, making me stumble: “The bitch is here!” With that explosion from a middle-aged woman, rotten vegetables and eggs flew at me. From that day on, my home address was publicly known across the internet. My doorstep was either piled with trash or covered in dead rats and foul, yellowish stench. My neighbors, unable to bear the constant harassment, and the building management, tired of being implicated daily, collectively petitioned me to move out. Unwilling to cause trouble for others, I packed my suitcase and left that very night. Unfortunately, when I tried to check into a hotel, the receptionist immediately refused me, claiming they were fully booked once they saw who I was. After being turned away repeatedly, with nowhere to go, I could only call the colleague who had openly defended me. The phone rang for a long time before she answered. “Dr. Hayes, please don’t call me anymore. I’ve been suspended because of you, and the hospital has launched an investigation into me…” The call was abruptly disconnected. In the cold dial tone, I leaned against the stained wall and slowly slid to the floor. Guilt, like a creeping vine, squeezed the breath from my lungs. Perhaps it was the days of fear, hunger, and utter exhaustion, but I fell ill. My forehead was so hot you could fry an egg on it, and my throat felt like I’d swallowed razor blades. Wearing a mask, I bought some medicine at a pharmacy and eventually found a cheap motel that didn’t require ID. In a blur of feverish awareness, my phone vibrated. It was an anonymous text message: “Dr. Hayes, I’ve got a lead on what you asked me to investigate.” The dizziness from the high fever eased slightly with that message. Just as I confirmed the evidence with the sender, there was an urgent knock at my door. I opened it to find two police officers in uniform. Behind them, countless flashing phone screens and prying eyes peered. “Isabella Hayes, you are suspected of medical malpractice leading to death. Please come with us to the station to cooperate with the investigation.”

The interrogation room lights at the police station were blindingly white. “Dr. Hayes, if you refused to prescribe fever reducers for Eleanor Vance’s daughter, why did you secretly send her medication afterwards?” “Did you know her daughter died after taking the fever reducer you sent?” I shook my head, denying it: “I didn’t secretly send any medication. Without a blood test to confirm the situation, I would never casually give her child any drugs!” “Then how do you explain this video?” The police showed me a video, which astonishingly showed me, fully disguised, at Eleanor Vance’s doorstep delivering medicine. “I don’t even know where she lives, how could I have…” The officer interjected, “The hospital system contains her detailed address; there’s no need to quibble.” Then the police handed me a file. “This is evidence provided by Ms. Eleanor Vance: an audio recording and her child’s medical death certificate.” I took it. The recording had clearly been meticulously edited. It only contained my cold insistence on “needing a blood test before prescribing medication” and her tearful pleas. On the death certificate, the words “acute severe infection with multi-organ failure” were horrifying. “Dr. Hayes, as a doctor with many years of practice, why would you do this? Was it truly to generate income for the hospital? To increase your personal earnings?” I didn’t know why Eleanor Vance was so determined to destroy me, but Lily had already been cremated. With the hospital unwilling to defend me, it was indeed difficult to prove my innocence. But I had the strongest evidence now. I sharply lifted my head, looking at the officer across from me: “Since Ms. Vance likes to resolve issues via live stream, I request that this questioning be conducted via a live video call, allowing me to confront her face-to-face.” A dead silence fell over the interrogation room. The young officer taking notes paused, looking up in astonishment. The lead interrogating officer frowned, his face full of bewilderment: “Are you sure? Do you know the public sentiment? They practically want you dead! If you can’t prove your innocence in the end, your life will be ruined!” “I know!” I met his sharp gaze, my fingernails digging deeply into my palms. “As long as I can confront her via video call, you’ll know why I refused to give her child a fever reducer, and you’ll also know why her child died.” After a long stare-down, the police agreed to my request. The news spread like wildfire, instantly sweeping across the entire internet. No one had expected that even after being taken to the police station, I would dare to be so arrogant as to go live and confront Eleanor Vance. Everyone awaited this face-off between the vicious doctor and the grieving mother. The camera focused on me, a cold red light flashing. On the electronic screen opposite, Eleanor Vance’s live video feed appeared. She still looked pale, eyes red-rimmed, forcing a strong facade of barely suppressed grief. The number of live viewers, at the moment of connection, rocketed, soaring past ten million. The barrage of comments was so dense it almost obscured the screen. [The bitch dares to show her face!] [Go Eleanor! We’re all with you!] [Look at her, still unrepentant!] The live stream began. The police questions were sharp and direct. “Isabella Hayes, why did you refuse to prescribe fever reducers for Eleanor Vance’s daughter, and then secretly send unknown medication that led to her death?” “Because… she deserved to die.” My words shocked the entire internet, and even the police slammed the table in anger. Only in Eleanor Vance’s tear-filled eyes was there a flicker of triumph. The next second, tears streamed down her face: “I knew she had ill intentions! It’s all my fault for cremating my daughter on impulse, otherwise an autopsy would definitely prove that the medicine she secretly sent was the poison that killed my daughter!” “If it weren’t for a kind person reminding me afterwards, I never would have thought Isabella Hayes could be so malicious!” “I only wanted an apology for my child, which is why I live-streamed that night’s consultation. But she actually poisoned my daughter because of it….” Her tearful accusations elicited a wave of pity and angry curses in the comments section. But I ignored her sorrow and challenged her: “Eleanor Vance, do you dare to say your daughter had no previous medical history?” “No! My daughter was just a little frail, with mild anemia and a bleeding disorder, which is why I couldn’t bear for her to have blood drawn…” “Is that so?” “Ms. Vance, you repeatedly emphasized your child’s anemia and bleeding disorder, refusing a blood test.” “Then, please explain this—” I raised my phone, unlocked it, and turned it towards the camera. For a second, the live stream was dead silent. Then, the entire internet erupted in shock!

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After my husband Julian Blackwood got a heart transplant, he fell for a widow seven years his senior. At my birthday party, he gave her my seat at the head of the table. “Audrey doesn’t like chocolate. Change the cake to strawberry.” I stood up, face set in stone, and walked out, leaving behind the obedient wife I used to be. He roared after me, “Why are you being so unreasonable? My new heart makes me love her—can’t you try to understand?” I laughed, tears streaming down my face. The truth he never learned was that the donor had loved me since the very beginning. As I was about to leave, Julian’s hand clamped down on my wrist. “Audrey, give your design drafts to Serena Thorne. She needs a new piece for her show the day after tomorrow, to legitimize her name.” Those design drafts were the culmination of three years of my hard work. He knew exactly what they cost me, yet he said tonelessly, “I’ll compensate you.” How could he compensate for all my years of sacrifice and humiliation? I only remembered that a month ago, I refused to rig the new artist award in Serena’s favor. In retaliation, he posted my private photos all over the internet. I pulled out my design drafts and my USB drive, then formatted my computer right there, in front of everyone. I offered my congratulations obediently. “I wish you great success.” Julian’s expression softened at my words. “Audrey, this is how you should always be—obedient and sensible. As long as you’re good, I can give you anything you want.” But the next second, Serena clutched her chest, struggling to breathe. Julian immediately shoved me aside, and he was doting on her, practically falling over himself. His movements were careful, yet clumsy. His panic and helplessness were plain for everyone to see. They watched me, smirking, their eyes full of mockery. They weren’t the only ones who looked down on me. I looked down on myself, too. Three days prior, I suddenly started bleeding down there. Julian was just about to leave to take Serena out for a candlelight dinner. I crawled to his feet, a long trail of blood marking my path behind me. The man ignored my desperate plea, forcefully pulling his pant leg free from my desperate grip. Just before I completely gave up hope, Julian turned back. He frowned at the bloodstains behind me, pinched his nose, and ordered, “Clean up the mess, and get her a fresh change of clothes. Serena gets sick to her stomach at the smell of blood.” I silently turned to leave, only to be violently pushed to the ground by him. The champagne tower and cake toppled onto me, leaving me utterly humiliated. “Kneel.”

Before I could even speak, I was dragged in front of him. “You deliberately made her uncomfortable, made a scene, and messed up this place.” “If you didn’t want to give her the design drafts, you should have just said so. Why resort to such despicable methods, causing her to have an attack? Is this how you ‘repay’ her?” Repay a debt. Repay a debt. Publicly slapping me was ‘repaying a debt.’ Making love in my bed was ‘repaying a debt.’ Tying me, six months pregnant, to a freefall ride was ‘repaying a debt.’ Thinking of this, I resigned myself and knelt, striking my head hard against the glass shards on the floor three times, the sounds echoing through the room. “Is this enough?” I said, my voice hoarse. Seeing my humiliated state, Julian’s breathing grew heavier. “Stop faking it, Audrey. No one here is going to sneak you information, and no one’s going to back you up.” “Cut out that repulsive look on your face.” I couldn’t be bothered to explain. As soon as Serena on the sofa seemed to recover, Julian immediately pushed me away and swept her into his arms. Julian rushed upstairs. I limped towards the door. Catching a glimpse of a faint figure in my memory, I quickened my pace. Before I could even speak, a dull thud hit me from behind, and then I lost consciousness.

When I opened my eyes again, the air was thick with the smell of disinfectant. I was being held down, kneeling by the door of a hospital room. From a distance, I vaguely heard the housekeeper’s trembling voice. “Sir, Madam just had a miscarriage a few days ago, and her knees are still wounded. The floor is so cold, she won’t be able to bear it.” “The doctor also said Miss Serena’s condition isn’t serious. It’s better to let Madam treat her wounds first.” “Enough.” A cold glare silenced the housekeeper. “Audrey won’t kneel at the door, and Serena won’t be able to sleep.” “It’s just a minor procedure, she’s been through it before.” The familiar scent of pine grew stronger. I closed my eyes, tears falling silently. “Don’t cry.” “Just bear with it a little longer. I have her lover’s heart. I need to compensate her.” His voice was coaxing, filled with tenderness, but it only made me sick. Two hours passed, and I was swaying precariously. Suddenly, Serena in the hospital room let out a whimpering cry. Julian’s expression, which had softened slightly, immediately hardened. “Hold her down. She must kneel until Serena wakes up tomorrow morning.” The nurse, unable to bear it, said that if the wounds on my knees weren’t treated, they could easily become infected and lead to necrosis or even amputation. The man didn’t hesitate. “Do as I say.” “Sir…” I raised a hand to stop the housekeeper who was about to speak up for me, enunciating each word. “It’s fine. I’ll kneel. I owe her, I should repay my debt.” “After I finish kneeling, we’ll have nothing more to do with each other.” After I spoke, the man didn’t agree. Instead, he furiously gripped my face. “Who are you putting on this show for? Don’t play these mind games with me, Audrey. You’re thirty, not eighteen.” “I just want to repay a debt. Do you really need to act so pitiful?” Serena’s cries were just a murmur in her sleep. Julian immediately plastered a smile on his face and went to her side. I don’t know how much time passed, but my world plunged into darkness again. When I woke up again, Julian was asleep by my bedside, my hand clutched in his. Feeling the steady beat of his heart, my eyes welled up, as if the catastrophe had never happened. I pulled my hand back, waking him. He reached out to check my forehead. “When did you wake up? Are you still uncomfortable?” I simply turned away. “You made me miss my flight.” Julian had never seen me so distant, and an awkward silence lingered for a while. When he saw me booking another flight on my phone, he couldn’t help but ask. “Where are you going for work?” In the past, he would never have asked so much. Before, even a little bit of concern from him would have thrilled me. Now, it just annoyed me. “None of your business.” “I’ve spoiled you too much, you’re getting completely out of control.” “Can’t you learn to be a little gentle, like Serena?” He just kept rambling on and on. Annoyed, I simply closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep. He stormed out, leaving the hospital room in shambles. The moment he left, I opened my phone and switched to another app. I just clicked it open, and hundreds of messages flooded in.

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My husband and I shared a lifetime of love, only to be reborn together in the 80s. Driven by the hope of rekindling our past, I waited for him at the dance hall where we first met, for two agonizing years. As I watched him confidently stride toward me, my heart swelled with joy. I reached out, ready to embrace a new life, a new beginning, with him. But his steps carried him right past me, stopping instead before the manager’s daughter. “May I have this dance with you?” Turns out, he’d decided he wanted a different partner entirely. “Scarlett, you’ve checked the door at least ten times. Who are you waiting for? All these gorgeous men here, and not a single one catches your eye?” I barely registered Chloe’s words, my gaze fixed intently on the entrance. I was reborn. And today, this very day, was when I first met my husband, Dylan. In our past life, Dylan and I were the epitome of a power couple. We started from nothing, building our lives together for over sixty years. We were poor, we argued, we fought, we cried, we fussed, we complained, but we never once talked about breaking up. At our lowest, we split the last piece of bread, huddling together for warmth. After we got wealthy, we moved into a mansion, never forgetting to help our family and friends. We walked through life hand in hand, a model couple everyone envied. On my deathbed, I asked him, “If we could be reborn, would you still ask me to dance that day?” He kissed me without hesitation. I closed my eyes with a smile, ending that life. So in this life, When other men showed interest – no matter how capable or handsome they were – I rejected them all. I was waiting for Dylan. I was going to be his wife again. I never attended the company singles mixers. I told my frantic parents that I had someone special in my heart, and he’d be joining our company this time next year. My parents thought I was out of my mind. So I waited, year after year. Dylan, who should have joined the company in 1986, only appeared in 1988. That’s when I learned he’d spent two years in the military. In our previous life, Dylan had often lamented not having served in the army. Now, he’d actually taken two years to do it. I guessed he must have been reborn too. When I heard Dylan was attending the singles dance, I couldn’t contain my excitement. I was the first to sign up. Even though it was two years later, I wore the same red polka-dot dress as in my past life and got a fresh perm. I politely turned down every man who asked for a dance, sitting in the waiting area, my eyes glued to the door. Today, I was finally going to properly greet him. “That’s our company’s new engineer.” “Looks like he just came back from the military too~ You can tell; he’s got that military bearing.” Chloe nudged my arm, pointing towards the main entrance. That familiar figure entered my view. The restless music in the dance hall seemed to slow to half speed. Slightly disheveled short hair, a sharp jawline, he glanced left and right as if searching. The moment our eyes met, he gave a shy smile, revealing his signature grin. He walked through the crowd, heading towards me, just like in our past life. Twenty-four-year-old Dylan still made my heart flutter. I took a deep breath, my heart pounding as he drew closer. I raised my arm, ready to embrace the happiness of this new life. My hand, suspended in mid-air, froze. He walked past me, towards Chloe, who was standing behind me. “Hello, miss, may I have this dance with you?”

Chloe looked flustered, her face instantly flushing crimson. Colleagues around us, loving the drama, started to hoot. “Dylan’s new to the company, Chloe, don’t crush his confidence!” “Yeah, just dance with him!” Chloe found it hard to refuse and reached out, letting her hand rest on Dylan’s. Dylan took Chloe’s hand, and they walked onto the dance floor. The crowd cheered. I sat there, stunned. No matter how loud the music was, I couldn’t hear a thing. Dylan hadn’t even spared me a glance; his steps had marched directly to Chloe. In that first life, was it Chloe he wanted to ask to dance? I scrambled out of there. The sky opened up, pouring rain, and memories from my previous life flooded my mind. In my past life, Chloe had invited me to that singles dance. She’d picked out my entire outfit, from head to toe. Her favorite red polka-dot dress, her signature 80s perm. We were similar in height and build. Dressed up, we looked almost like twins. I didn’t know how to dance, so I just sat in a corner. Dylan came straight up to me, head bowed, and asked me in front of everyone, “Hello, miss, may I have this dance with you?” The stage lights were dim. He didn’t dare to look up. When I didn’t move, he bravely spoke again, “I’ve liked you for a long time. Please, dance with me!” That was the first time I truly heard my own heartbeat. I’d secretly liked Dylan for ages, and being suddenly confessed to by the man I adored left me flustered. I mechanically reached out my hand, my mind a blank, and replied, “I like you too.” My colleagues around us started to cheer. Only then did Dylan finally look up and meet my eyes. Back then, I couldn’t read the shock in Dylan’s eyes; I thought it was surprise. After that dance, I became more proactive in pursuing Dylan, and he never refused me. It seemed everyone at the company assumed we were a couple. Marriage and children followed naturally, a course of least resistance. Even though he was always distant, I just figured that was his personality. But then I thought of the fervent look in his eyes just now on the dance floor. Turns out, Dylan had wanted to ask Chloe to dance from the very beginning. I remembered Chloe once saying she had a weakness for guys in uniform. So, the first thing Dylan did after being reborn was to join the military. What he called his “regret” actually pointed to Chloe. Dylan, like me, had a clear purpose in being reborn. Only, the objects of our affections had changed. I went home in the rain, caught a fever, and my parents worried outside my door for days. Once I recovered, I calmly announced, “Mom and Dad, I’m ready for blind dates.” Dylan in this life seemed like a completely different person. In our previous life, he was always cautious. He’d think everything through before acting. But in this life, he practically moved his desk next to Chloe’s. As if he wanted to tell everyone at the company that he liked Chloe. His forwardness and intensity were something I’d never witnessed. In our previous life, if I even walked a little too close to him at the company, he’d try to keep his distance. “We work at the same place. People will talk.” I didn’t know what kind of “talk” he meant, but now, he’d already been warned several times by the supervisor. Yet, he didn’t reduce his closeness to Chloe. Chloe was my best friend, and she couldn’t help but complain to me about Dylan. “He’s so annoying! Dylan, he’s stuck to me like glue, he’s everywhere!” “You don’t like him? I saw you accept his gifts and go to the movies with him.” “Accepting gifts means we’re together? Plenty of guys send me stuff.” Chloe had many suitors. Even though Dylan had returned from two years in the military, his other prospects weren’t exactly stellar. Chloe shared the imported chocolate Dylan had bought her with everyone. As I held a piece in my hand, a pang of envy struck me. Back then, when I was pregnant and craved a sweet chocolate, he’d say that when starting a business, every penny counted. And with a baby on the way, money would be tight everywhere. No matter what I wanted, he always had a thousand reasons not to give it to me. But now, if Chloe simply said she wanted some, he’d buy her so many boxes, more than she could ever eat. Turns out, whether there was love or not had always been crystal clear. It was just my love-struck self, blinded and deluded, who chose to ignore it all.

One day at work, feeling a bit lightheaded, I opened a bar of chocolate Chloe had given me and ate a piece. “How dare you eat that?” This was the first time Dylan had spoken to me since being reborn. But his next action was to slap the chocolate out of my hand. “That’s for Chloe! Where did you steal it from?!” His words chilled me to the bone. He actually accused me of “stealing.” “What are you doing?! I gave this to Scarlett myself!” Chloe immediately stepped in to protect me. Dylan gave an awkward laugh. “Oh, right. My bad then…” “Chloe, this chocolate is really expensive. It cost me half my salary. Could you maybe eat it yourself?” “I can give it to whoever I want! What’s it to you?! Scarlett, let’s go, I’ll take you out to eat!” When Dylan said “steal,” the look in his eyes was like he was looking at a complete stranger. He didn’t even consider that I might have been reborn too. After all, we’d spent sixty years together, started a business, built a home, raised children. Even if there was no love, surely there was some family bond. His cold tone towards me, laced with hatred, as if he feared I’d contaminate him. He even begrudged me something he’d given to someone else. “So, Chloe, when are you and Dylan going to make it official?” Chloe sighed, adding some food to my bowl. “His family background is pretty bad. Besides his military service, he doesn’t have much else going for him. I’m still thinking about it.” Despite her words, less than two months later, the news that Dylan and Chloe were an item spread throughout the company. Many said Dylan was chasing Chloe because she was the company Manager’s daughter, hoping to be a gold digger and climb the ladder fast. But Dylan, to show his “true love,” got a tattoo of Chloe’s face on his arm. I remembered how in our past life, when our son got a tattoo of my photo and his, Dylan had ripped into him, humiliating him. And now he was using that exact same move to chase Chloe. Chloe’s parents were even more disgusted by Dylan’s behavior, especially with the rumors of him being a gold digger spreading through the company. Chloe’s parents ordered them to break up immediately. But young people are like that; the more you try to stop them, the more they cling to each other. To prove he wasn’t a gold digger, Dylan swore he’d buy Chloe a proper house in the city, outright, by next month. Listening to the gossip, a question suddenly struck me. Dylan, from a poor background, where would he get the money to buy a house? And he set himself a deadline for next month? Wait, what?! I suddenly remembered that next month, the city was hosting the first National Bridal Gown Design Competition. In my past life, I entered it on a whim. My design won the gold prize and was bought by an industry expert for a staggering fifty thousand dollars. That was fifty thousand dollars in the 80s. That money later became the seed fund for Dylan’s and my business. My mind raced. In my previous life, I only submitted the design sketches. If I could actually produce the gown, wouldn’t I earn even more? I worked overtime for over a month, burning the midnight oil. The moment I arrived at the competition venue, I heard exclamations of admiration. “Who designed this? It’s a work of art!” “This level of skill could compete on the world stage!” “I totally underestimated Dylan! This intricate craftsmanship is absolutely masterful.” … The praises kept coming. I looked towards the huddle of people. A gown identical to my design from the previous life was on a model. The intricate details, the choice of jewels, the lace patterns—everything was identical. The only difference was, this piece was credited to “Dylan.” I’d forgotten that in my previous life, he had seen this award-winning design countless times, often using it as a company endorsement for various projects. I looked at Dylan, and our eyes met. I had no intention of questioning him, but his eyes were full of provocation. He then turned to all the contestants present and declared, “Competitions should be about sincerity. I think those who only bring sketches shouldn’t even bother!” “My work started over a month ago; every stitch is a piece of my heart!” He was clearly implying that I, just like in the previous life, had only brought design sketches. The onlookers praised his dedication, and those who had only brought sketches lowered their heads in shame. My mom, who came to help me, saw Dylan’s work and instantly panicked. “Honey, how is his work identical to yours?” Mom’s words were overheard by Dylan and the people around him. There was a moment of silence. Dylan then seized his chance. “Scarlett! We’re from the same company. You weren’t peeking while I was designing, were you?” “This is a major competition! Is someone already cheating in the very first year?!” Dylan was clearly prepared, firing off a barrage of accusations. Mom, furious, immediately opened my bag and started arguing with him. “This is my daughter’s hard work! Who is the real copycat?!” My gown had just been finished this morning. The basting stitches were still in, and the threads weren’t even trimmed. This immediately solidified the accusations of me being a “copycat.” The whispers grew louder, people pointing at me, trying to prevent me from competing. Even Chloe, standing beside Dylan, looked at me as if I were a thief. If I hadn’t lived through a previous life and seen every kind of situation, I would have fled right then! But I remained unfazed, my expression calm. I registered, filled out the forms. Seeing my composure, Dylan feigned concern. “Forget it, I guess Scarlett was just blinded by ambition. We’re all colleagues; let’s give her some slack.” “Designs can sometimes be similar. I believe she didn’t do it on purpose this time.” He played both the good guy and the bad guy, pretending to be magnanimous despite being wronged. The crowd’s approval of Dylan soared. “For fairness, Scarlett, your piece isn’t even finished, and it’s identical to mine. You should just withdraw from the competition to save yourself further embarrassment!” I suddenly smiled. “Dylan, I never said this was my competition entry.”

“She’s been exposed, hasn’t she? Is she just making things up now?” “It’s barely been a month of prep time! One person making an entire finished bridal gown is already incredibly difficult!” I ignored the whispers around me. I calmly asked the judging panel for five mannequins. Returning to my competition spot, Mom and I calmly pulled out clothing bags. I was prepared. I was here to make money, and every piece at this competition would be sold. The more, the better. Having lived a lifetime, I’d spent sixty years in fashion. I’d made ten gowns in a single month before. Even though the tools weren’t as advanced in this life, my sixty years of skill were still sharp. Some onlookers scoffed, “Can she really win by sheer volume?” People were still whispering, but as my gowns were placed one by one on the mannequins, everyone fell silent. My past life’s design was an intricate, heavily embroidered gown, extremely complex to recreate. That’s why I left it for last, to make it if I could, and skip it if I couldn’t. All my focus in this life had been on these five designs. Each one was an award-winning design that hadn’t yet appeared in this era. Elegant, grand, and minimalist – a standard that wouldn’t be outdated even in that time. When the five dresses were perfectly displayed, everyone was speechless. The judging began. All the judges lingered for a long time in front of my designs. They asked me about my design philosophy, my inspiration, and I answered them honestly. Actually, long before those contestants stopped gossiping about me, I already knew the answer in my heart. But to my dismay, first place still went to Dylan’s intricately crafted gown. The contestants who had mocked me earlier now offered consolation. “Chloe’s dad is one of the organizers. We all think your designs were better.” Dylan, holding his medal, shot me a triumphant glance. “Copying is copying. Trying to win by quantity is just pathetic. How utterly ridiculous.” But then, Dylan’s smile faltered. The next awards, second place, third place, all the way to sixth place, They all went to me. The judges commented, “The works are mature, with a unique style. While they show echoes of the first-place design, they are more refined. The only drawback is that as bridal gowns, they are perhaps too minimalist; the mainstream still prefers more decoration.” The room fell completely quiet. Anyone who knew anything about design understood. Decorations can be added later, but the fundamental design and cut of the garment are what truly matter. Dylan’s cool demeanor finally crumbled. I calmly gave my acceptance speech, focusing on one key point: “They are available for purchase.” Several judges’ eyes lit up with interest. My creations were right here. Whether they were copied or not, everyone could judge for themselves. Even Chloe understood, giving Dylan a disgusted look before directly leaving the venue. Dylan stubbornly stayed. He needed to make money. The auction began with the first-place design. Dylan’s piece started at $10,000, and Chloe’s father bid it up to $15,000. But the price wouldn’t go any higher; no one else raised their paddle. In my past life, this gown sold for fifty thousand! Had that person not shown up? I felt a little worried. Would my gowns not sell for much now? When it was my turn, Chloe’s father privately approached me. “Scarlett, if your designs could stay with the company, I’d promote you and give you a raise.” I didn’t know how to respond. Just then, my gowns went up for auction. All five pieces at once. “$50,000!” “$150,000!” “$200,000!” Everyone frantically raised their paddles. The price per piece had long surpassed Dylan’s $15,000. I grew more excited; I hadn’t expected such an incredible response to these five pieces. Dylan stood in front of his own gown, his face growing darker and darker. “$500,000!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “299307”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #狼人Werewolf #玄幻Fantasy #魔幻Magic #重生Reborn

I landed a huge deal at the end of the year, bringing in a five-million-dollar bonus. The company, in a gesture of goodwill, allowed me, eight months pregnant, to start my maternity leave early. My mother-in-law, Brenda, asked why I wasn’t going to work. Lying on the couch, I joked, “With the company cutting back, I was laid off.” “Guess I’ll just be a stay-at-home wife and mom from now on.” To my shock, Brenda immediately slapped my heavily pregnant belly. “Then why aren’t you off your butt doing laundry and cooking?!” “Just because you’re carrying a girl, you think you can freeload?!” Mark, my husband, happened to walk in, pulling Brenda into the nursery. Feeling completely wronged, I opened the hidden camera feed they didn’t know about, wanting to see whose side Mark would take. But what I uncovered were chilling secret after chilling secret. 0 Brenda, flung a raw, mud-caked potato at me, hitting my eight-month pregnant belly with a dull thud. A sharp, searing pain shot through me. “Ashley! I’ve been wanting to tell you for ages, but I’ve been holding my tongue!” “Parading around, all dressed up every day! Anyone who didn’t know you were going to work would think you were soliciting on the street! What kind of boss would keep such a loose woman?!” The sudden outburst stunned me. Three months ago, Mark said my pregnancy was progressing, and Brenda would come to take care of me. “I’m often on business trips. I’d feel better with Mom here.” Indeed, after Mark’s promotion, his business trips became exceptionally frequent. Considering it would be inconvenient to be alone, and that my previous short visits with Brenda had been smooth enough, I happily agreed. Brenda had, in fact, been meticulously caring for me during this time, preparing every meal herself. When I tried to help, she’d shoo me out of the kitchen. “You’re busy with work. Cooking is a small thing, don’t worry about it.” I thought I’d never have to face mother-in-law conflicts in this lifetime, but one joke turned Brenda into a completely different person. “Your elder is speaking to you! Don’t you know to stand up?!” “You orphan trash! No wonder you have no manners!” Her words stopped me cold, just as I was about to explain, piercing me to the core. My parents died in an accident when I was fifteen. The first time I visited Mark’s family, Brenda held my hand, her eyes full of pity. “My biggest regret in life is not having a daughter. From now on, you’re my own daughter!” At that time, I thought I finally had a family again. So over the years, even when Brenda and I had a clash of values, I tried my best to compromise and adapt. I couldn’t understand why a single sentence could make her completely transform like this?! I was still reeling when Brenda started nagging again, full of discontent. “Living in the city is expensive! Now it’ll all fall on my son!” Seeing me still dazed, Brenda slapped my lower back. “You still have the nerve to lie there?!” The slap was incredibly forceful, sending me sprawling off the couch, my knees hitting the floor with a heavy thud. My first instinct was to clutch my aching belly, desperate to explain. I’d just managed to call out “Brenda,” when Brenda had already settled onto the couch, placing her smelly feet right on my back! Her weight, about 170 pounds, pressed down deliberately, leaving me unable to move. “Brenda?! What are you doing?!” I was utterly shocked and bewildered. Brenda snorted. “Teaching you the rules of being a daughter-in-law in my family, of course!” “Mark used to say you made good money, so for my son, I tolerated you, you damn girl, for so long!” “Now you don’t make money anymore! You better cut the attitude from now on!” “Let me tell you! I’ve been furious since the first day I arrived! You threw out a whole pot of stewed chicken I brought!”

Knowing Brenda was coming, I’d spent two days cleaning the house from top to bottom. New bedding, fresh fruits, and vegetables piled high on the table. Brenda didn’t come empty-handed either, carrying a plastic bag filled with stewed chicken. “Free-range chicken! You can’t get this in the city!” “For Ashley to regain her strength!” At the time, Mark grumbled that his mom was making unnecessary trouble, but I smiled, accepted everything, and thanked her profusely. However, after the long train journey, the chicken was already spoiled and rotten. “The chicken was spoiled, didn’t Mark tell you?” But before I could finish, Brenda kicked me to the ground. “Still daring to talk back! You beggar, choosing your food! Just because you’re carrying a girl, you think you’re some kind of queen?!” I frowned, about to argue, when the front door suddenly opened. Mark, who was smiling and looking at his phone a second ago, froze in his tracks, frowning at the scene. “What’s going on?” Before I could speak, Brenda cut in. “Go ask your wonderful wife! She got herself fired!” “My poor son, such a tough life! He finally started making something of himself, and now he’s stuck with a freeloader!” “I, as his mother, said a few words, and she’s sticking her neck out, talking back!” “Ashley, let me tell you! This is the only time! If you dare to do this again, get out of this house!” Mark frowned, looking at me. “You got fired?” I was carrying his child, kicked to the ground by his mother, and he didn’t try to help me up. Instead, his first question was about being fired. Looking at my husband of three years, a chill ran through me, and I didn’t want to explain anything. “If you also think I’m a freeloader, then talk to your mom and figure out which of us should get out of my house.” When we got married, Mark’s family wasn’t well off. This house was my parents’ inheritance. An eight-month pregnant woman, not only bullied by her mother-in-law but also told to get out of her own home. Lying in bed, tears of injustice streamed down my face. Hearing Mark pull Brenda into the nursery, I suddenly remembered the hidden camera I’d installed two days ago. It was for keeping an eye on the baby later, and I hadn’t had a chance to tell Mark or Brenda. I thought I’d see how Mark would mediate the conflict between Brenda and me, but when I opened the feed, I heard an earth-shattering secret. It sent chills down my spine. “You said she might get a promotion and a raise by the end of the year! Now look, she got fired!” “She’s about to give birth, and she is too. You’re supporting two families on one salary, my heart aches for you, son!” Brenda’s face was full of annoyance, and she even dabbed at her eyes. She? Two families? Could Mark have another family behind my back?! Thinking of his frequent business trips recently, a sinking feeling of dread suddenly gripped me. In my late pregnancy, I had frequent bathroom trips at night. Several times, I’d caught Mark sitting on the toilet with a strange smile on his face. Sometimes he’d be so engrossed in his phone that he wouldn’t even notice me come in, then he’d almost drop his phone when he saw me. His explanation was that work stress kept him awake, and he scrolled through funny videos, not wanting to disturb my sleep in bed. I wasn’t without my suspicions, but Mark would casually hand me his phone. “Look, look! I think your pregnancy hormones are just acting up, making you paranoid!” Checking his phone, I didn’t find anything, so I had to let it go. I quickly continued listening, but Mark didn’t respond directly, only saying, “A few days ago, I asked her team members, and they did say she had a good chance of closing a big deal and getting a promotion. How could she just get fired?” “Could it be she closed the deal, earned the money, and just doesn’t want us to know?” “I’ll double-check.” My scalp tingled. Mark had secretly contacted my team members?! And I knew nothing about it!

Realizing this, I quickly created a private group chat and added all my team members. Being an orphan, I cherished human connections deeply. We shared profits generously, and my chosen team members clicked really well with me. They proudly called themselves my “chosen family.” [If Mark contacts any of you, stick to the same story! The big deal didn’t go through! I was fired by the company!] [All] I stared at my phone screen, seconds stretching into an eternity, terrified Mark would get a response before me. Sure enough, after a few ‘received’ messages, my assistant Sarah replied: [Ashley, is this a surprise for Mark? Mark just asked me, almost blew your cover! Got it! I’m going to play hard to get with the info!] After a sigh of relief, I sent another message. [My marriage is in crisis. More details when I have time, but for now, if Mark contacts any of you, you MUST stick to the same story!] This time, almost instantly, no one asked any questions. A flood of “Got it” messages appeared. I deleted the group chat. On the surveillance feed, I saw Mark frowning at his phone, muttering a curse. “That useless Ashley really screwed up the deal and got fired!” Brenda also grew anxious. “Chloe is about to give birth! I promised her a $15,000-a-month luxury post-birth recovery suite!” When I first got pregnant, I also wanted a postpartum recovery suite, but Brenda refused outright when she heard the $5,000-a-month price. “Outsiders can’t take care of you as well as family! With me here, why waste that money!” Chloe? I suddenly remembered once when I’d forgotten some documents at home. When I returned to get them, Brenda was at home, chatting and laughing with a young pregnant woman. The table was laden with expensive fruits I’d bought, and the two had made a huge mess. Brenda had said she was a distant niece, Chloe, who came to the city for her prenatal check-ups! No wonder I’d felt an inexplicable hostility from Chloe back then, and her words had been full of snide remarks. When I’d vented to Mark about it, he’d just said I was being petty. So, they had boldly brought his mistress into my home! On the recorded feed, Mark said another word, then turned and left. Brenda, left alone, rolled her eyes in annoyance, muttering under her breath, “I gave her so much medicine! Why hasn’t that useless burden miscarried yet?!” “Could the medicine be fake? No, it can’t be, I paid a lot of money to Dr. Peterson in the village for it…” A cold sweat drenched me instantly. Brenda had been drugging me! Just as I was shaking with fear, the bedroom door was pushed open the next second! The moment Mark walked in, I frantically exited the surveillance app on my phone. Looking at the husband before me, my heart hammered against my ribs. Just now, I had clearly heard Mark say on the recording: “The house is her pre-marital property, so let’s wait until we’ve swapped houses before divorcing.” “If she plays nice, fine. Otherwise, a pregnant woman with no family to back her up… if we don’t press charges, who’d care what happens to her?” A while ago, Mark had said the house would feel small after the baby was born, and he wanted to sell this one to get a bigger house. Two hours earlier, I’d been daydreaming that with the bonus, we could not only get a bigger house but also take Mark and Brenda on a lavish trip. But I never imagined that the path to happiness I’d envisioned was actually a trap designed to destroy me! Mark’s once somewhat handsome face now seemed sinister and cruel. No wonder he’d been so extraordinarily attentive after learning I was an orphan. He’d had this plan all along!

“Honey, you really got fired? Them firing you while pregnant is a violation of labor law, I’ll go talk to your boss!” I quickly stopped him. “No!” Under Mark’s suspicious gaze, I tried to keep my voice steady. “It was my fault for losing the order. If it weren’t for me working tirelessly without complaint all these years and being pregnant, the company would have pursued damages and compensation.” “Millions in compensation. Our life savings wouldn’t cover it.” Mark frowned even deeper. He just grabbed my phone and dialed my boss’s number. “I’ll ask, I can’t let you be wronged.” As the phone rang, my heart nearly pounded out of my chest. The next second, the call connected, and my boss’s impatient voice came through. “Ashley! I’ve already made it clear to you! The company not pursuing charges is already the best outcome for you! Don’t even dream of compensation!” Luckily, I was quick-witted. While I was recording the surveillance earlier, I had briefly explained my predicament to my boss. My boss was a fierce businesswoman who hated scumbags, and she immediately said the company would stand firmly by me. After hanging up, Mark stared at my pale face, brushing back my sweat-soaked strands of hair. “Honey, why are you so nervous?” “So what if you lost your job? I can still support you. Mom just felt the pressure of me being the sole breadwinner. She’s going through menopause and prone to emotional breakdowns. For my sake, just let it go.” “Perfect, now you have time. The sales agent for that house we liked has called several times for us to sign the contract. No time like the present, let’s go today! It’ll wash away your bad luck from losing your job!” Mark, without a word, pulled me and Brenda to the sales office. To my surprise, Chloe was already waiting there! Brenda intimately linked arms with her as soon as she got out of the car. “I called Chloe to come along, for her advice.” Chloe puffed out her belly, showing off. “Mark, Auntie Brenda was worried about your taste, so she asked me to come and approve. You don’t mind, do you~” She’d been like this at home too. “Ashley, don’t just rely on being pregnant and make my aunt do all the work.” “My Mark works hard for his money, Ashley, you need to learn to be thrifty! Look at all these packages! You’re married, who are you dressing up for?” “I’m just direct~ Don’t mind me, Ashley~ I’m only saying this for your family’s good.” At the time, I thought she was just jealous of Mark and my good life, spouting sour grapes, so I paid her no mind. After marriage, I had always played the role of a devoted wife and dutiful daughter-in-law. Even Mark had forgotten that an orphan girl had clawed her way to the top—I wasn’t someone to be easily taken advantage of. New and old resentments flared, and my face hardened. “Even if I did mind, you’d still cling on like an irritating rash, wouldn’t you?” My sudden counterattack stunned both Brenda and Mark. Chloe pouted petulantly, looking at them, stomping her foot and huffing. Brenda immediately glared at me. “You’re rebelling! You uncultured brat! Who gave you permission to speak to a relative like that!” For the first time, I talked back without backing down. “I’m buying a house, and a distant relative who has nothing to do with this comes here bossing around. Who’s really uncultured?!” My voice wasn’t quiet, drawing stares and whispers from the onlookers. Mark frowned and pulled me. “Can’t you just let it go?! It’s not that big a deal!” “No matter what, you can’t talk back to my mom!” I coldly shrugged off his arm. “Then listen to your mom. Let your mom pay for the house too.”

Mark’s frown deepened. “What are you talking about?! We already agreed to sell this house and put extra money down to upgrade, didn’t we? You saw the upgrade contract last time! Besides, where would my mom, a stay-at-home mom with no job, get the money?! Alright, alright! I know you’re still holding a grudge about what happened earlier!” “My mom has diligently taken care of you all this time! And just because she said a few words, you’re so unforgiving! Fine, fine! I’ll apologize for her, okay?!” Seeing the onlookers pointing and whispering, Brenda’s eyes darted. “I knew it, getting old means becoming a burden! It’s all my fault! All my damn fault! For running my mouth and annoying my daughter-in-law! I’ll just slap my own mouth off!” Brenda feigned slapping herself, but Chloe quickly intervened. “Auntie! Blame me, I’m young and foolish, I spoke out of turn and upset Ashley! Ashley, I’ll kneel and apologize to you! Please, for my aunt’s sake, she’s old! Don’t bully her anymore!” Chloe started to kneel, but Mark quickly caught her. “Chloe! You’re pregnant!” “You absolutely can’t get emotional!” Mark glared at me. “Ashley! Are you only happy when you make everyone miserable?!” “Getting a bigger house is for both of us, it should be a happy occasion! You just have to make everyone unhappy!” As he lectured me, he seemed to forget that I was also a pregnant woman about to deliver, and I couldn’t get emotional. Mark was still holding Chloe’s arm, frowning. “Alright! Stop making a scene! Aren’t you embarrassed with all these people watching?! Let’s just sign the contract first!” The sales manager, fearing his commission slipping away, eagerly handed the prepared contract to Mark. Just as Mark was about to sign, I snatched the contract away. “How come this purchase agreement only has your name on it?” Brenda, who moments ago was playing the victim, now glared, eyes wide. “What kind of talk is that?! Mark is the head of the household, if not his name, whose name should be on it, yours?!” Mark reached out to grab the contract. “Everything after marriage is marital property, whose name it’s under doesn’t matter!” I held the contract further away. “If it doesn’t matter, then why not put only my name on it?” Mark’s eyebrows furrowed, and he glared. “Ashley! What is wrong with you today! Can you stop being so unreasonable?! You can’t just make the whole family miserable just because you lost your job!” I sneered, staring into his eyes. “Your ‘whole family’ refers to you, your mom, and your mistress Chloe with her bastard child in her belly, right?!” My words dropped, and the crowd of onlookers erupted in gasps. Chloe reacted first, shrieking in a high-pitched voice. “You’re slandering my good name!” “If you don’t clear my name today, I’ll die here with my baby to prove my innocence!” Brenda plopped onto the floor, wailing. “Ashley, I know you despise this old woman, take your anger out on me, I don’t mind a little suffering! But you two must be well!” “To openly slander a woman’s good name, you’re trying to drive her to her death!” I watched her thrashing on the ground and shouted back even louder. “Selling my pre-marital assets! To buy a big house for his mistress and her bastard child!” “Who’s really trying to drive someone to their death?!” Mark’s face went white, his jaw clenched so hard the veins on his forehead pulsed. “What nonsense are you spewing?! Just because you’re out of a job, you’re full of suppressed anger with nowhere to vent?!” “I won’t change houses today, is that enough?! Let’s go home and talk about this!” With that, Mark grabbed my arm and tried to drag me out. If he managed to get me into the car today, my fate would be sealed! I struggled desperately, but Mark’s hand was like a vice clamping my wrist. I shouted for help to the people around me, but Brenda yelled, “This is our family business! Stay out of it! Don’t get mixed up in our family drama!” Just as I was about to be dragged out the door, a panting figure blocked our way, forcefully pushing Mark’s grip away, and shielding me behind them. “Who dares touch my Ashley!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “299306”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #狼人Werewolf #玄幻Fantasy #魔幻Magic #重生Reborn

During my senior year, I was staying with my aunt’s family when my cousin Blake put me on blast online. All because I accidentally picked up a piece of meat from our dinner. He cried hysterically, claiming that not only was I freeloading at his house, but I also cherry-picked all the meat from the dishes, leaving him malnourished! The internet did the rest. I was trending within hours. Everyone called me a leech, a parasite, a shameless mooch. The comments screamed: Get out of their house! So, I decided to humor them. That very day, I packed my bags and moved out. But then my aunt and her family came begging me to return. After all, without me there, they’d no longer receive the $15,000 monthly allowance my mother sent for my living expenses! I never imagined that with a monthly allowance of fifteen thousand dollars, I’d get cyberbullied over a single piece of meat. Watching Blake’s tearful video on the trending topics list, my body trembled with fury. “His parents are always away working out of town, so I felt bad for him and agreed when Mom suggested he come live with us.” “But why does he have to treat me so badly?” “It’s bad enough he’s living here for free, but he always takes the best food!” “I was so tired from studying today, and Mom specially made my favorite stir-fry. But he ate all the meat from the entire dish! I didn’t even get one piece!” “It’s not that I care about a plate of meat, it’s just… I feel so wronged. I’ve been so good to him, why can’t he show some empathy? I always share everything with him, but he just hogs all the good stuff and now I’m practically malnourished!” “Why am I so unlucky to have such a cousin…” In the video, Blake’s eyes were bloodshot and brimming with tears, as if I had truly tormented him. My parents both worked for a highly classified agency, which meant they rarely had time for me. As I entered my senior year, my aunt, Sarah, specifically sought us out, saying her house was right across from the school, and suggested I move in. It would be perfect for me and Blake to focus on our college applications and final exams together. Mom thought it would be better for me to stay with relatives and have someone look after me, rather than living alone at school, so she agreed. To ensure I was comfortable, Mom sent Aunt Sarah fifteen thousand dollars every month for my room, board, and daily expenses. But on my very first day at Aunt Sarah’s house, Blake shoved a “House Rules” list at me. 1. Do not touch any personal belongings without permission. 2. Lights out by 10 PM. 3. Showers no longer than five minutes. 4. Air conditioning usage limited to two hours per day. 5. Avoid bothering anyone; if someone is in a bad mood, you must stay out of sight. … After all, I was living under their roof, so I always made sure to prioritize their family’s comfort and needs. For the past six months, I had strictly followed every rule. I even proactively did chores every day and diligently tutored Blake, who was failing his classes. At the dinner table, I rarely ever reached for the meat dishes, always feeling like they were reserved for the hosts. Until this one time. I was eating dinner and reviewing English vocabulary, distracted, and accidentally picked up a piece of meat. Blake immediately slammed his fork down. At the time, I thought he was just in a bad mood and didn’t think much of it. Not until I saw that trending video. In the video, Blake tearfully accused me, painting me as a lazy, selfish “vampire freeloading relative” who constantly bullied their family. The comment section exploded. Tens of thousands of comments were cursing me out. “Kids these days are so disrespectful! How can he be so arrogant when he’s living under someone else’s roof?” “Freeloaders are worse than beggars. Their skin is thicker than a fortress wall! And they feel entitled to suck others dry, as if people owe them something.” “Why keep such an oblivious leech around? Kick him out already!” Blake replied. “I wish I could be tough, but he’s my cousin, after all. I can’t really kick him out, can I? I guess I’ll just have to tolerate it!” My hands trembled with a simmering rage. Fifteen thousand dollars a month for living expenses! That was enough for me to stay in a five-star hotel every day and eat gourmet meals for every single sitting! I wasn’t going to stick around to be hated. I immediately packed my bags and moved out of their house. After calling my teacher and arranging to stay at the school dorms, I sent a message to my mom. “Mom, I’ve moved out of Aunt Sarah’s and into the school dorms. You can just transfer my allowance directly to my bank account from now on.”

The moment she received my message, my mom called right away. “Alex, why did you suddenly move out of Aunt Sarah’s house? Is something wrong?” Hearing the tension in her voice, my nose stung, and I felt incredibly wronged. My aunt, Sarah, was my mom’s only sister. Mom had always been incredibly generous to her. When Aunt Sarah mentioned Uncle Michael had lost his job, Mom immediately pulled some strings and arranged a well-paid, low-stress position for him. Knowing Aunt Sarah struggled commuting on her scooter, Mom, without a second thought, bought her a brand-new Mercedes-Benz. Even the house Aunt Sarah’s family lived in now was paid for by my mom. I didn’t want to worry my mom, nor did I want to ruin the relationship between the sisters, so I just vaguely said that living at school would give me more time to study. After hanging up, I returned to school. The moment I reached the dorm room the teacher had assigned me, I heard my roommate, Jake, speak up with a snide, mocking tone. “Well, well, well, isn’t it the freeloading vampire who always pigs out on meat? Did someone finally kick you out?” Jake was Blake’s little minion. He’d always subtly targeted me before, but I hadn’t thought much of it. Now, it seemed it was all connected to Blake. Jake’s shrill voice instantly drew students from other dorm rooms. In a flash, everyone started pointing fingers and whispering about me. “No wonder he didn’t live at school, he was mooching off his aunt’s family!” “How disgusting, the freeloading vampire on the trending list is in our class. How embarrassing!” “Some people are just poor and pretentious. If you’re living under someone else’s roof, why can’t you just act like a grateful guest? Why fight with your hosts over food?” Amidst the chorus of mockery, Blake rushed over from his aunt’s house, looking displeased. “Cousin, why are you so sensitive? People just said a few truthful things online, is that really enough to make you throw a fit and run away?” “You’ve been mooching off us for so long, and now you pull this stunt. Are you deliberately trying to make everyone think our family bullied you?” I looked at his condescending face and suddenly found it all a bit laughable. “You think I’m taking advantage of you by staying at your house?” Blake snorted, raising an eyebrow. “Isn’t it obvious?” “Do you know how expensive things are these days?” “Do you know how much money your free room and board for the past few months has cost my family?” As he finished, Jake immediately chimed in. “That’s just shameless! Everyone in our class knows how well-off Blake’s family is. He kindly took you in, and not only are you ungrateful, but you’re also audacious enough to act like you’re royalty?” “I think you’re just taking advantage of Blake’s good nature, riding roughshod over him and bullying him!” It was truly absurd. Before I moved into Aunt Sarah’s house, Blake was just an unremarkable background character at school. His monthly allowance of barely a hundred bucks meant he couldn’t even afford to join class outings. But ever since his family started getting my mom’s fifteen thousand dollars a month, the boy who once couldn’t afford a decent shirt now flaunted designer clothes and flashy jewelry every day. With money in his pocket, he immediately became active in class, frequently treating his classmates to lavish spending sprees with his massive allowance. Seeing him spend money without batting an eye, everyone naturally assumed Blake was a generous scion of a wealthy family. And I, always low-key, slowly became the “cheapskate,” “freeloading relative” everyone gossiped about. I looked at Blake, and firmly reminded him. “I advise you to go home and ask your mom, clearly, whether or not I’m truly living there for free!”

Blake didn’t hesitate. “Don’t you dare try to use my mom to pressure me!” “Your parents are always working out of town, so poor they can’t even come home for years at a time. Do you honestly think they could afford to send you an allowance?” “I thought you’d be grateful like a dog for freeloading at my house, but I never expected you to be so ungrateful!” My parents’ work was highly specialized, and hardly anyone knew what they did. But that didn’t mean my family was poor! In fact, ever since I could remember, Aunt Sarah’s family had been benefiting from my family’s generosity. What right did he have to think I was taking advantage of his family? Blake’s words made everyone dislike me even more. “Some people are just poor and dramatic! They can’t even manage to be a good leech!” “Exactly! They kindly provide him food and shelter, but he freeloads, picks out the best food, and even makes Blake so malnourished, it’s disgusting!” “I hate poor relatives like him the most. No ability but thick-skinned, like a disgusting bloodsucking tick you can’t shake off!” “Blake, you’re just too kind. You should keep your distance from shameless vampires like Alex, don’t let him tarnish your reputation as a rich heir!” Their words, one after another, praised Blake to the skies while demeaning me completely. Blake’s lips curved into an undeniable smirk as he basked in the compliments. “If only certain shameless poor people were half as sensible as you all!” Then, he looked at me, and condescendingly offered. “Alright, alright, I’ll forgive you this time, seeing as you’re poor and have never had anything good to eat!” “Now, stop making a scene with your luggage and come home with me!” I chuckled lightly, my voice cold. “No thanks. From now on, I’m staying at school!” With that, I ignored Blake, calmly made my bed, and settled into the dorm room. I thought my refusal would bring me some peace. But the next day after school, Aunt Sarah suddenly showed up. She waited downstairs by the academic building, walked straight towards me through the bustling crowd, and spoke with a worried expression. “Alex, I saw the video online. Blake was being foolish, and I’ve already talked to him.” “It’s your senior year, a crucial time. Who will take care of you if you live at school?” “Come on, come home with me. Don’t let this affect your studies and health.” Looking at the genuine concern in Aunt Sarah’s eyes, for a moment, I couldn’t tell if she was truly worried about me or just about that fifteen thousand dollar allowance. If she genuinely cared, why had she never told Blake that my mom paid fifteen thousand dollars a month, allowing Blake to humiliate me endlessly? I looked at Aunt Sarah, my voice calm. “No need, Aunt Sarah. I’m doing just fine at school.” My refusal instantly annoyed Blake. “Alex, don’t be so ungrateful! My mom came personally to ask you back, what more do you want?” “Do you expect our whole family to get on our knees and beg you to stay at our house?” His voice was sharp and loud. It immediately drew everyone’s attention. In an instant, everyone started shouting at me. “Alex, you’re so ungrateful! Your aunt is being the bigger person, personally inviting you back, and you’re still putting on airs?” “Exactly! You were the one who was rude first, and now that they’re overlooking your mistakes, why are you still playing the victim?” “The poorer you are, the more you cling to your pride! Do you really think you’re some rich heir?” Knowing the situation was gaining traction, Jake even pulled out his phone and started a live stream, pointing it at me. “Everyone, look! The freeloading cousin who’s been all over the trending topics these past two days is causing trouble again!” “His aunt is worried about him living alone at school affecting his health and studies, so she specially came to school to invite him home. But not only is he ungrateful for her kindness, he’s putting on a show and refusing to go back!” “He’s probably trying to act like a victim to gain sympathy and get people to beg him to live for free!” With Jake’s exaggerated commentary, the live stream’s chat was flooded with insults. “Poor people just love to play the victim while still trying to grab benefits, acting all high and mighty as if that hides their greedy, disgusting nature!” “Why even bother with such a freeloading relative? Let him die out in the streets!” “I hate these poor relatives the most. My dad went bankrupt because of his freeloading relatives. These bloodsucking relatives should just drop dead!” Facing the public’s curses, I solemnly explained. “I wasn’t living for free at my aunt’s house. My mom paid for my living expenses.” Hearing this, the students present scoffed. “How ridiculous! With your family’s situation, can they even afford living expenses?” “Exactly! Look how shabbily he’s dressed. His mom probably just collects garbage, and pays for his living expenses with a pile of junk every month!” “That meager amount wouldn’t even buy a pair of socks for Blake, the rich heir! How can you even say that with a straight face?” The surrounding students burst into laughter. The live stream chat was also plastered with messages calling me a clown. Blake scoffed, his voice dripping with condescension. “Still talking about living expenses? How much could your parents, who are too poor to even afford a train ticket home, possibly give you? A hundred? Two hundred?” I looked at him, enunciating each word. “Fifteen thousand.” “Fifteen thousand dollars a month for living expenses.”

The moment the words left my mouth, the place erupted in massive laughter. “Fifteen thousand dollars a month? Are you insane?” “Poor people are just pathetic, they’ll say any lie for the sake of appearances!” “LOL, he must be so poor he’s hallucinating. Fifteen thousand a month? Why not a hundred million?” The live stream chat scrolled wildly, everyone calling me a liar, saying I was delusionally rich. Blake, looking smug, sneered. “Alex, you really do love making a fool of yourself, don’t you? With your pathetic appearance, have you ever even seen fifteen thousand dollars?” Facing the endless laughter and mockery, I suppressed my anger, looked at Aunt Sarah, and spoke firmly. “Aunt Sarah, please clarify for everyone. Does my mom send you fifteen thousand dollars every month for my living expenses?” Seeing my serious question, the entire area instantly fell silent. Everyone turned to look at Aunt Sarah. Aunt Sarah looked at me with a complicated expression for a moment, then slowly said. “Alex, I know you want to save face and regain your dignity, but… but your family truly hasn’t given us any living expenses.” “I don’t want to embarrass you, but I can’t lie for you either!” I stared at Aunt Sarah in disbelief, as if struck by lightning. I had personally seen her receive my mom’s transfers! Why was she lying?! Hearing Aunt Sarah’s answer, the mockery grew even louder. “See! I told you he was lying!” “How disgusting, taking advantage of his aunt’s kindness, then trying to force her to lie for him?” “No wonder he refused to go back with his aunt. He was waiting for this moment! If his aunt had actually, for his sake, admitted to receiving the fifteen grand, he’d probably extort her relentlessly later!” “He’s utterly shameless! Not only does he freeload off others, but he also tries to exploit their kindness for his own gain!” Laughter and insults surged like a tidal wave. The live stream chat was even more ruthless, full of curses and condemnations. Blake glared at me with pure disgust, his voice full of hatred. “Alex, aren’t you ashamed? You’ve been freeloading at our house for so long, and now you want to extort money from us?” Then, he turned to Aunt Sarah. “Mom, let’s settle this with him today, so he can’t spread rumors later that we mistreated him!” Aunt Sarah’s face flashed with panic. She tried to stop him. “Blake, just let it go…” “No, we can’t!” Blake insisted. “Isn’t he so stubborn? Didn’t he brag about giving our family fifteen thousand dollars for living expenses? Today, I’m going to expose him!” He pulled out his phone and began calculating earnestly. “Listen, our house is across from a top high school, a prime school district! Renting out one room would be at least three hundred dollars a month!” “Your three meals a day, at least ten dollars a day, that’s three hundred dollars a month!” “Utilities – water, electricity, gas, property fees – split among us, that’s a hundred dollars a month for you!” “Plus Mom doing your laundry and cooking every day, let’s say a nanny fee of eight hundred dollars a month!” “300 + 300 + 100 + 800 = 1500 dollars a month. You stayed at our house for three months, so 1,500 dollars a month multiplied by three months is 4,500 dollars.” After calculating, Blake looked down at me, extended his hand, and said coldly. “Business is business, even among family. Hand over that 4,500 dollars right now!” “After that, you can live wherever you want. We won’t care if you die out there!” At this, everyone gloated. “That’s what you get for bragging! Now you’re speechless, huh?” “LOL, didn’t your family give you fifteen thousand a month for living expenses? What are you waiting for? Pay up!” “Exactly! Could it be your parents didn’t collect enough garbage today and can’t afford it?” The live stream chat was also flooded with insults, mocking me for bragging and telling me to pay up. Aunt Sarah stood to the side, her lips moving, but ultimately she remained silent. I looked at the mother and son, and the last shred of warmth in my heart was completely extinguished. Under everyone’s gaze, I calmly took out my phone, my voice icy. “Alright, since you want to settle accounts with me, let’s do it, item by item, and make it crystal clear.”

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Everyone hailed my fiancé, Julian Thorne, as the most principled and reputable attorney in New York. Yet it was him. He twisted my sister’s terrified cries during the assault, dismissing them as mere sounds of passion. All because the rapist was the brother of Seraphina Hayes, the woman he’d grown up alongside and considered family. My fiancé’s declaration that “no crime had been committed” let the monster walk free. The very day we lost the case, my sister took her own life right on the courthouse steps. And those who destroyed my sister? They desecrated her ashes, urinating in them before tossing them at my feet. “Staring at me like that? You have no idea how sweet your sister tasted. It’s been ages since I had that much fun.” I grabbed a vase and smashed it over his head. The shock sent me spiraling, and I was committed to a mental institution. “Ever since her sister died, she’s been hallucinating, constantly talking to thin air.” “What a tragedy, those poor sisters. First one dies, then the other loses her mind…” Overhearing the nurses’ whispers, Julian Thorne conveniently seized the opportunity to break off our engagement, then proposed to Seraphina, the woman he’d practically grown up with. After six months in the mental institution, Dr. Albright came to assess me for discharge. “Do you still see your sister often?” I shook my head. “No, I don’t.” Dr. Albright signed my discharge papers with a satisfied smile. But they had no idea. Lila whispered softly in my ear, “Anya, you’re lying again. You’re finally going to get revenge for me!” I reached out, touching the air, and smiled. “Don’t worry, little one. Big sister will make them pay with their lives.”

The day I walked out of the mental institution, I went straight to Crestwood Manor, cradling Lila’s ashes. Six months had passed, and the place had changed so much. I heard there was a new lady of the house. Julian Thorne was throwing a lavish birthday party for his beloved Seraphina. He planned to announce their engagement there. “What a lively party,” I murmured, my fingertip tracing the photo on the urn. In the quiet courtyard, Lila’s laughter suddenly rang out. “Anya, if I hadn’t died, you’d be the lady of Crestwood Manor right now, wouldn’t you?” “You might even be getting married soon. What a shame, though…” “Nothing to be ashamed of.” I turned my head. Lila had two adorable dimples when she smiled. “Lila, I’m taking you inside. Tonight is only going to get livelier.” I extended my hand to thin air. Inside the mansion, Julian Thorne, impeccably dressed in a custom-tailored suit, held his darling Seraphina’s hand, accepting guests’ congratulations. “Thank you all for coming to Seraphina’s birthday celebration,” he toasted, raising his glass. “On this occasion, I’m pleased to announce that Seraphina and I will be engaged next month.” Amid thunderous applause, Seraphina smiled demurely, the diamond bracelet on her wrist flashing, practically blinding everyone. The style was exactly the same as the one Lila cherished most before she died. Beside them, a man in a blue suit stepped forward, laughing. “Julian, you’ll be my brother-in-law soon, part of the family. You’ve got to look out for me, alright?” “If you dare to hurt my sister, I won’t let you off the hook!” A hideous scar stretched across his face. It was from the vase I’d smashed over his head six months ago. “Brother, I’ll take good care of Seraphina.” Julian Thorne chuckled softly, wrapping an arm around Seraphina’s waist. I stood in the corner, watching it all. The urn in my arms felt like it was burning hot. Lila’s voice rang out again, tinged with a sob: “Anya, it was him. He’s the one who trapped me in the villa, tore at me, defiled me…” “Shhh, don’t rush.” I gently patted the urn, just as I used to soothe her to sleep. A faint smile touched my lips. “The real show is about to begin.” They drank and chatted, the party at its peak. Suddenly, with a crash, the grand crystal chandelier in the center of the ballroom plummeted to the floor. Guests screamed and scattered. A “gift box,” wrapped in gold ribbon, tumbled from the second floor, landing with a heavy thud on the carpet. The wrapping paper tore open, revealing the unconscious man inside. It was Jax, the thug leader who’d disgraced Lila’s ashes six months ago. Everyone shrieked. “What’s going on? What happened?” “Ah!” Seraphina screamed, burying her face in Julian Thorne’s chest. Julian Thorne’s face went utterly pale. He stared at the “gift box,” then sharply turned to the entrance. When his gaze landed on me, his pupils constricted violently. “Anya?” He gasped, “What are you doing here? You’re not….” “… Aren’t you supposed to be locked up in a mental hospital, talking to thin air?” Julian Thorne’s face drained of all color.

I finished his sentence, stepping forward, the urn in my arms swaying gently with each step. “Mr. Thorne, it’s been a while.” The guests’ eyes pierced me like needles, their murmurs buzzing. “Is that the crazy woman whose sister died six months ago?” “They say her sister was dumped by Marcus Hayes half a year back, then tried to claim rape, lost the case, and killed herself right outside the courthouse. That’s what drove *her* crazy…” “She’s just as twisted as that hussy sister of hers. After all that, Mr. Thorne saw her true colors and broke off their engagement!” “How shameless! How dare she show her face to Mr. Thorne?” But those words only made me arch a brow. They couldn’t hurt me anymore. “Anya, you… you’ve lost your mind?” Julian Thorne’s gaze was fixed on the “gift box” on the floor as he fiercely reprimanded me. “Who let you in here? Get out, now!” Seraphina peered out from his arms, a flicker of panic in her eyes. It was quickly replaced by a wounded expression. “Anya, please don’t be like this… Julian only sent you for treatment for your own good…” “And honestly, your condition was so bad six months ago that Julian couldn’t take it anymore, that’s why he broke up with you.” “For my own good?” I laughed, my voice unnervingly clear in the silent hall. “Was it really for my good, or was it so you, your rapist brother, and this group of degenerates could celebrate in peace?” At the mention of “rapist brother.” Seraphina’s face instantly went white. Jax, the thug on the floor, had woken up at some point. Seeing me, he suddenly thrashed like a madman: “It’s you! You crazy bitch! Let me go! Mr. Thorne, help me!” I knelt down, gently patting his terrified face. “Turn around and look, Lila has come to get her revenge.” Jax slowly turned his head, his eyes widening in horror, then he went insane, scrambling backward. “No, don’t kill me, I didn’t kill you…” Julian Thorne reacted. “Stop him!” But it was too late. Jax charged headfirst into the wall, then slowly slid to the floor. A bodyguard stepped forward. “Mr. Thorne, he’s gone…” “Someone’s dead!” The scene instantly erupted into chaos. Guests screamed and fled. Julian Thorne’s face was ashen. “Anya, what have you done? You killed him!” I smiled sweetly. “Julian Thorne, everyone saw it with their own eyes. I didn’t do anything to him. He chose to die.” “How can you blame me?” Everyone had witnessed the man’s bizarre death and recoiled, fearing they would be next, avoiding me as if I were a plague. Julian Thorne suddenly grabbed my arm. “Anya, what exactly do you want? “I was the one who broke up with you six months ago. If you have any grievances, come find me…” I stared into his eyes, thinking, *Of course I came for you.* Lila’s voice grew clearer in my ear, filled with delight: “Anya, he’s scared…” I looked up at Julian Thorne, then swept my gaze over the varied expressions of the guests, finally resting on a trembling Seraphina. “Tonight’s ‘gift’ was just an appetizer.” I smiled at everyone present. “Next, it’s your turn.” Julian Thorne spun around to face me, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief. This was just the beginning. What they owed my sister, I would collect, principal and interest, bit by bit. Lila chuckled in my ear: “Anya, the show has begun.” Cradling Lila’s urn, I left them with a chilling smile and turned to leave. “Stop!”

A devilish voice suddenly called out behind me. My footsteps paused, but the corners of my lips curled upward. Marcus Hayes grabbed my shoulder. “Anya, you smashed my head six months ago. I haven’t settled that score with you yet, and here you are, delivering yourself to me?” I slowly turned, looking at the scar on Marcus’s face. My grip on the urn tightened involuntarily. “Tsk, I didn’t get a good look before, but you’re not bad-looking. Quite a bit like your sister, actually…” His face was twisted with a lecherous smirk. “Brother…” Julian Thorne tensed, speaking out. “She’s a madwoman, don’t…” “Shhh—” Marcus Hayes put a finger to his lips. “Julian Thorne, you just worry about my sister. My business is none of yours.” Marcus Hayes approached me with an lewd smile. Just as he was about to lay a hand on me, Julian Thorne suddenly pulled me behind him. “Marcus, you can’t take Anya.” “Six months ago, to help you get off, I went against my conscience in court. Anya, she… just let her go.” Marcus Hayes’s face immediately darkened. “Julian Thorne, are you, a lawyer, really going to go against me?” Julian Thorne remained silent, saying nothing, but showed no signs of giving up. He continued to shield me behind him. The smile in my eyes deepened. Seraphina, however, glared at me, a flash of jealousy in her eyes, then threw herself into Julian’s arms, whining. “Julian, do you still have feelings for her?” “Anya is a mental patient, she can’t marry you now. Do you want her to drag you down your whole life?” “My brother already promised me he won’t cause another death.” “Why don’t you just let my brother send Anya back to the mental hospital…” “Silence.” Julian Thorne cut her off, his tone stern for the first time. “Seraphina, you should go back inside.” “It’s dangerous here. Don’t worry, I’ll handle it.” Bodyguards led Seraphina away, but she looked back every few steps, unwilling and resentful. “Julian, when you’re done, come find me right away!” Watching their affectionate display, I couldn’t help but chuckle softly. “I never thought my fiancé could be so gentle.” “Anya, shut up!” Julian Thorne’s eyes were fierce. “If you don’t want to die, then say less!” Marcus Hayes eventually gave Julian Thorne some face, but he shot me a resentful look and dropped a cold warning. “Julian Thorne, you’re very bold.” “I won’t touch her today, but I’ll see how long you can protect her.” “What Marcus Hayes wants, Marcus Hayes always gets.” They left with their bodyguards. After the crowd dispersed, the villa was left in utter disarray. He quickly had someone clean up the “gift box.” Julian Thorne frowned deeply, looking at me. “Anya, I thought you’d be in the mental institution for a few years, but you just ran out on your own.” “Do you have any idea who Marcus Hayes is? How powerful his family is? You just came here alone, wanting revenge, ready to throw your life away?” Julian Thorne grew more agitated, his voice rising sharply. “Didn’t you consider that by provoking Marcus Hayes, you wouldn’t just fail to avenge your sister, but you’d throw your own life away too?” At the mention of Lila, my expression also turned cold. “So you knew everything, Julian Thorne.” Six months ago, my sister Lila was assaulted while working. She was dragged into a villa by those wealthy scions, tormented all night, and found utterly broken. After emergency surgery, The doctor regretfully informed us that many of her organs were damaged, and she would need a catheter bag for life. A young girl’s entire future, shattered by those animals. I desperately begged Julian Thorne, who was my fiancé at the time, to help us win the lawsuit, no matter what. Julian Thorne had furiously declared to me: “I will wield the weapon of the law and not let those beasts go unpunished.” But after a few rounds, Julian Thorne inexplicably changed his stance. In court, he unexpectedly changed his testimony. Based on a recording held by the wealthy scions, he declared it was just ordinary intimacy. “Hear that, Anya? Even your own defense attorney says your sister gave up her dignity for money, actively seduced Marcus, took off her own clothes, and cried out so passionately…” In court, my eyes burned red. “Julian Thorne, how can you lie through your teeth?” “Tell the truth! Were they threatening you?!” But Julian Thorne refused to look at me again, stubbornly insisting that “no crime had been committed.” The lawsuit was lost, and the culprits walked free. Julian Thorne, however, looked at me, crumpled on the floor, with pity. “Anya, he’s Seraphina’s brother. If he goes to prison and gets a record, Seraphina’s reputation will be ruined.” “Besides, the Hayes family is too powerful. We can’t win against them.” “Since it’s already happened, I’ll help your sister get more financial compensation. Let’s just put this behind us.” But could money fix any of this? If he wouldn’t help me get justice for my sister, I would do it myself. But I didn’t tell Julian Thorne any of this. I smiled and pushed his hand away. “You’re wrong. I didn’t come here for revenge this time.” “Julian Thorne, I heard you’re getting married to your fiancée. I came to give my blessings.” Julian Thorne’s face suddenly changed. “Just that ‘gift box’ from earlier?” “Who would see that and not think you deliberately came to cause trouble?” “Anya, your condition hasn’t cleared up yet. I’m sending you back to the mental institution immediately. This is for your own good.” “For my own good?” I laughed out loud, tilting my head to look at him, puzzled. “Then why cancel the engagement?” Julian Thorne’s face stiffened. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. The truth was, when he was defending Lila’s case. Julian Thorne and Seraphina were already flirting behind my back. He thought I didn’t know. I just played along, pretending not to know. As long as he could help my sister win the case, and get her justice. As long as he could silence those who called my sister a “gold-digger” and a “whore.” A man was just a man. I could let him go. But he didn’t. So he, too, was a killer.

Julian Thorne ultimately didn’t send me back to the mental institution. He looked at the scars on my body, the ones inflicted by my torment, and his eyes reddened with tears. “I’m sorry, Anya. You’ve suffered so much these past months…” Just as he reached out to touch me, his phone rang. Julian Thorne’s expression shifted, and he immediately answered. Everything suddenly became tense. “Seraphina, what’s wrong?” “Julian, my stomach hurts so badly, I’m writhing on the floor! Please come see me…” Julian Thorne immediately agreed. “I’ll be right there.” He locked me in the basement of Crestwood Manor. He instructed the housekeeper and bodyguards to keep a close watch. Before leaving, he told me: “Anya, don’t run off, or I won’t be able to protect you.” “Do you really think six months ago I only gave false testimony because of Seraphina?” “The Hayes family’s power is far greater than you imagine. We can’t twist the arm of a giant, Anya. The Hayes family is too powerful.” Julian Thorne said we couldn’t fight them, urging me to accept my fate. He told me to give up on revenge, take care of myself, and live a good life. But I didn’t believe there was no justice in this world. If there was no way to get justice for my sister, then I would get revenge myself. After his retreating figure disappeared, I clutched the urn tighter, my eyes burning with resolve. Julian Thorne rushed Seraphina to the hospital, where doctors diagnosed her with acute appendicitis. After handling the admission and coaxing Seraphina to sleep, Julian Thorne looked up to see the sky was already growing dark. He sighed, then instructed his driver, “Head back. Prepare a hidden place for Anya to stay.” He feared Marcus Hayes and his thugs wouldn’t let me go. Many thoughts raced through his mind. But when he returned, he heard the housekeeper’s panicked cry: “Mr. Thorne, it’s terrible! Ms. Anya is gone!” Julian Thorne’s head snapped up. “What did you say?” “Wasn’t she locked in her room?” The housekeeper stomped her foot in distress. “She was! But a group of men suddenly broke in, smashed the lock, and took Ms. Anya away!” Julian Thorne immediately ran up to the second-floor study to check the security cameras. He saw Marcus Hayes leading the group. Julian Thorne’s mind went blank, a strong premonition seizing him. “No, Anya’s in trouble!” Julian Thorne clenched his fists, his eyes bloodshot. “Six months ago, I couldn’t get justice for Lila, and it’s been eating at my conscience. This time, I absolutely won’t let anything happen to Anya!” Julian Thorne dropped everything and frantically investigated my whereabouts. He saw Marcus Hayes’s group taking me into a car and heading towards the Hayes estate. Julian Thorne didn’t even pause for breath; he charged out. “The Hayes estate.” He rushed in alone, fearing the worst, only to witness a scene that shocked him to his core. Marcus Hayes’s underlings were sprawled out, tangled limbs everywhere. Julian Thorne almost lost his footing, his breathing nearly stopped. “Anya, you… you killed them?!”

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My husband suddenly had an asthma attack, and I couldn’t find his medication anywhere. Frantically, I called our son, begging him to buy the medicine and rush home. But from the other end of the line, I heard my son’s impatient complaint: “Mom, stop interfering! I just took time off work to check on my mother-in-law, and now you’re trying to stop me? Do you seriously have some kind of son complex?” “It’s honestly disgusting!” With that, he ruthlessly hung up the phone. I didn’t understand what a “son complex” was. All I knew was that without his medicine, my husband’s life was in danger. So, I called my daughter-in-law. But before I could even speak, I heard her icy accusation: “Mom, your possessiveness over Dan is way too much!” “My mom has a cold. Dan, as her son-in-law, is taking her to the clinic. Can’t you even tolerate this small thing?” The phone was hung up again, and my heart went completely cold. Watching my husband’s face turn an alarming shade of purple, I pushed my anger aside and quickly dialed 91

But when we got to the emergency room, my retirement savings card wouldn’t even process a single penny. I called them both several times, but they kept hanging up. Robert ultimately missed the golden hour for resuscitation and passed away in agony. Later, on Tiffany’s SnapChat Stories, I saw Daniel kneeling before his mildly ill mother-in-law, warming her IV drip. The heart I had devoted my entire life to my son, was utterly shattered… 1 I stayed by Robert’s side until morning, thinking about how foolishly we had revolved our lives around Daniel for half a lifetime. Even after retirement, we’d still supplement them with eight thousand dollars from our pension every month. To end up like this was a cruel, cosmic joke. My phone suddenly vibrated in my pocket. The name “Son” on the screen stung my eyes. I answered. Daniel’s voice, thick with morning grumpiness, immediately snapped: “Mom, what’s going on? Where’s breakfast? Tiffany and I have to catch the subway, you’re not seriously going to let us go to work on an empty stomach, are you?” Disappointment weighed like a stone on my chest. My throat felt tight and dry, and I spoke wearily: “If you want to eat, make it yourself. If you don’t want to cook, go buy something.” “Go buy something?” His tone instantly ratcheted up: “Food outside is so unsanitary! In the year since we got married, Tiffany hasn’t eaten out once. Don’t you wake up at five every morning to make her lunch?” “What is wrong with you today?” Tiffany’s voice, low and muffled, drifted from the other end of the line: “Is your mom causing trouble again?” “I told you her feelings for you aren’t normal, like some kind of freak. She probably wants to tie you to her hip…” My grip tightened on the phone. Suddenly, I understood. All the love and care I’d poured into them, in their eyes, was nothing but a “son complex” or “perverted possessiveness”! I finally understood why my usually honest and straightforward son, who used to share everything with us, had changed so much since he got married. He spoke less and less to me and his father, and his attitude grew more distant. Before I could explain, Daniel’s voice exploded again: “Mom, are you still mad about not buying Dad’s medicine yesterday?” “Dad’s asthma attacks aren’t a new thing, do you really have to make a mountain out of a molehill and hold a grudge against me?” My chest felt squeezed. My tears had long dried up. My voice raspy, I said: “Dan, your dad… he’s gone…” “I’m at the hospital. Come, see your dad one last time.” The other end of the line was silent for two seconds. Then came Daniel’s enraged shout: “Mom! Can you stop making things up?! Are you trying to use Dad’s name to manipulate me again?” “I’m married now, and you’re still constantly watching me, making me look bad in front of Tiffany, in front of our relatives! What exactly do you want from me?!” Just then, a doctor walked in, handing me a paper. He said: “Mr. Robert Peterson’s death certificate is ready. If the family has no objections, we can contact the crematorium to make arrangements.” The phone line went silent again. After a long moment, Daniel’s disbelieving voice finally broke through: “My dad… my dad is really gone?” My nose stung. A sliver of hope still lingered in my heart. Perhaps he’d hear the truth and rush over, to see his father one last time. But the next second, his words washed over me like ice water, chilling me to the bone: “Mom, Dad’s senior benefits haven’t been deposited yet this month. Don’t report his death information yet. We can get a few more months’ worth if you delay it, okay?!” I froze, even forgetting to breathe. Tiffany, on the other end, kept urging him: “Stop talking! We’ll be late if we don’t leave now. They’ll deduct two hundred for perfect attendance!” “Okay, okay, honey.” Daniel turned, his voice impatient as he yelled at me: “Mom, did you hear me? Don’t report it yet! I’ll talk to you after work!” The phone clicked off. Hearing the news of his father’s death, they showed no grief, only concern for the money. I felt a profound chill throughout my body, colder than the air in a morgue. 2 I returned home that evening. Daniel was sprawled on the couch, glued to his phone, not even bothering to look up: “Mom, hurry up and make dinner. I’m starving.” Tiffany sat with her legs crossed, cracking nuts. Seeing the urn in my hand, she flinched as if burned, jumping up with a frown: “Mom, why did you bring that thing home? It’s so morbid! Get it out of here right now!” I ignored them. I gently placed the urn on top of the cabinet before turning to face them: “I want to know, where was your father’s asthma medicine? And what happened to the two hundred thousand dollars in our retirement savings account?” Tiffany’s eyes flickered. She turned and pulled a medicine bottle from a drawer in the coffee table. She slapped it onto the table with a *thwack*, mocking: “Mom, you’re getting old and your memory is terrible. The medicine has always been right here, hasn’t it? You couldn’t find it yourself, and now you’re blaming us?” This morning, I had searched the entire living room, and that drawer was clearly empty! Before I could speak, Daniel put down his phone and said impatiently: “Mom, just go make dinner. Don’t worry about the two hundred thousand.” Their entitled attitude made me tremble with rage: “That was your father and I’s life savings, our retirement money. It was your dad’s lifeline! You think you can just tell me not to worry about it?” I reached for my phone: “I’m calling the police right now! Transferring my money without my permission is theft!” “What are you doing?!” Daniel shot up, snatching my phone away. Tiffany, from the side, added fuel to the fire, her voice piercing: “Mom, are you serious? Your money was going to be ours anyway. Are you really fit to be parents if you’re going to be so petty?” “Besides, that money wasn’t wasted.” I stared at them: “Then tell me, what did you do with the money?” Backed into a corner, Daniel finally blurted out after a long pause: “That money was for Kevin, Tiffany’s brother, to get a new car! He’s getting married soon, and he can’t go without a car!” My vision blurred. I knew the money was gone for good. Our house was part of a redevelopment plan, so Tiffany hadn’t demanded a marital home when they got married. She had only asked for three hundred eighty-eight thousand dollars for the wedding. But not long after, we heard she’d used that wedding money to support her younger brother. Though I felt uneasy at the time, I didn’t say much, thinking as long as they were happy together. But I never imagined they would be so greedy, so brazen as to steal my husband’s lifeline! Tears finally streamed down my face. “I know! If you hadn’t transferred that money, your father wouldn’t have missed the golden hour for resuscitation, he wouldn’t have died!” “You two killed your father!” Tiffany rolled her eyes at Daniel, a look of pure exasperation. Daniel frowned, not a trace of guilt on his face: “Mom, don’t talk nonsense!” “Everyone has to die eventually. Dad’s death is a blessing; being burdened with all those illnesses, living in such constant pain – what’s good about that?” “It’s just a pity about the money…” “What did you say?” I couldn’t believe my ears. Looking at this cold, selfish son, the pent-up anger and hurt exploded. I raised my hand and slapped him hard across the face. “Daniel! You’re not even human, you’re an animal!” Daniel clutched his face, his eyes wide with shock and fury: “Mom, you hit me?” “You’ve never hit me before! Now, for such a trivial matter, you hit me!” Tiffany immediately rushed forward, pointing a finger at my nose and screaming: “You old hag! How dare you hit my husband? I think you’ve lost your mind!” “This house is going to be redeveloped soon. If you dare to cause any more trouble, we’ll kick you out, and you’ll end up on the streets!” I stared at their distorted faces, and the last shred of familial affection in my heart dissipated. I looked at Robert’s urn, my voice terrifyingly calm: “This house belongs to your father and me. If anyone’s leaving, it’s me kicking you out!” “Both of you, get out of my house, now!” 3 Daniel froze, as if he’d heard a joke: “Mom, are you senile? This house will be mine when you die. You’re telling me to get out? That’s absurd!” Tiffany tugged his arm, a mocking smile playing on her lips, and said loudly, deliberately: “Fine, we’ll go. Who wants to stay in this morbid place anyway!” “A crazy woman with a son complex like her can’t stand to be separated from her son. She’ll be begging us to come back before tonight’s over!” Daniel, the idiot, bought her words completely. He scoffed, nose in the air, and walked out without a backward glance. For the next few days, I didn’t contact them, nor did I answer Daniel’s calls. It wasn’t until the seventh day that he sent a text message, his tone accusatory: “Mom, have the senior benefits been paid out this month? Why haven’t they been transferred to my account yet?” I saw the message and couldn’t help but laugh. Before, I worried they wouldn’t have enough money, so as soon as Robert and I received our pension, we’d keep two thousand for ourselves and give them the remaining eight thousand. But the day after they left last time, I went to the bank and canceled the automatic transfer. On top of that, I went to the redevelopment office and changed my request. The previous compensation, which was two houses and six million dollars in cash, I changed it all to just cash. Two days later, after my dance class, I was returning from the grocery store when I saw Daniel and Tiffany standing at my doorstep. They weren’t as arrogant as last time; their faces held a ingratiating smile. Seeing me, Daniel immediately stepped forward, his tone fawning: “Mom, I missed you so much! Um, why did you change the lock?” I gave them a cold glance: “It’s my house. I can change it if I want.” “Do you have a reason to be here? If not, leave now. You’re not welcome.” Daniel suddenly dropped to his knees with a thud, his eyes red-rimmed. “Mom, I was wrong.” “I was so foolish before, I shouldn’t have argued with you, I shouldn’t have said those things about Dad. Please forgive me, okay?” Tiffany also knelt down, her fingers caressing her belly: “Mom, I’m pregnant. We’re renting a place outside, it’s expensive and tiny, and the soundproofing is terrible. We can’t sleep well at all.” Daniel excitedly grabbed my hand: “Yes, Mom, you’re going to have a grandson! Dad always longed for a grandson, he surely wouldn’t want me and his grandchild to suffer out there.” “We promise to truly change our ways, to be good and filial to you. Please, let us come back home?” I stared at Tiffany’s belly, lost in thought. I remembered how much Robert envied his peers doting on their grandchildren. Against my better judgment, I opened the door. Daniel immediately rushed to Robert’s photo, kowtowed three times, and tearfully apologized. Tiffany also acted uncharacteristically. She, who usually never lifted a finger, actually took the groceries from my hand and went to the kitchen to make lunch. During dinner, they both kept putting food on my plate. My son even produced an IOU for two hundred thousand dollars, signed with Kevin’s name, saying he’d pay me back as soon as he had the money. In a daze, I suddenly felt respected, cherished. I thought they had truly changed. I was wrong. What happened next dragged me straight into hell. 4 That day, Tiffany cut her finger while cooking. Seeing how well they’d behaved these past few days, I offered to finish washing Tiffany’s clothes. After dinner, I had just finished taking down the dried laundry when I heard Daniel call from the bathroom: “Mom, Tiffany can’t get her finger wet. Can you scrub my back for me?” I hadn’t bathed Daniel since he was eight. Now, at over thirty years old, why would he make such a request? “Scrub your own back, I’m not comfortable with that.” I said through the door. “Mom, why are you still acting so distant? I’m your son, what’s there to be uncomfortable about?” He kept calling from inside: “I can’t reach my back. Just scrub it a couple of times, it’ll be quick.” Unable to resist his persistent calls, I finally gave in. Pushing open the bathroom door, I turned my head away, grabbed the scrub brush, and quickly brushed it over his back twice. After scrubbing, I hurried out. The next day, I went to the park for my usual exercise. As soon as I reached the square, I felt everyone staring at me. People were pointing and whispering behind my back. Someone even deliberately raised their voice: “That’s her! She looks so elegant, how could she do something so disgusting?” “Unheard of, so inappropriate, it’s terrifying.” I stood there, bewildered, not knowing what I had done wrong. Seeing Brenda, a neighbor I used to exercise with, I quickly walked over and took her hand, asking: “Brenda, what’s wrong with everyone? Why are they saying such things about me?” Brenda, however, recoiled as if I were something vile, shaking off my hand. Her eyes were filled with disgust and mockery: “You still have the nerve to ask?” “How could you have such perverted thoughts about your own son? Washing his underwear, bathing him, scrubbing his back—those are things a daughter-in-law should do! Why are you, his mother, getting involved?” “Now the entire neighborhood knows you have a son complex, and you’ve even become an online sensation! It’s absolutely shameful!” I was utterly dumbfounded. I quickly pulled out my phone and clicked on the trending video Brenda mentioned. The video showed me in the bathroom last night, scrubbing Daniel’s back! The camera was filming from behind me, and even though my head was turned, it wasn’t clear. Only when I came out did my full face flash across the screen. The caption read: #FreakMomSonComplexCrazy, #Shameless! The comment section was filled with insults: “This kind of mom is terrifying, completely twisted, cut ties and run!” “She’s not going to try to squeeze between the couple in bed too, is she?” “My heart goes out to the daughter-in-law for two seconds, what kind of psychological trauma would that cause?” “This old woman is a pervert, why doesn’t she just die!” My hands trembled uncontrollably, and I almost dropped my phone. I immediately called Tiffany, my voice shaking: “Tiffany, did you film that video online? Why would you do that?” But what my daughter-in-law said next completely shattered me.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “299303”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #狼人Werewolf #玄幻Fantasy #魔幻Magic #重生Reborn