My husband, Andrew Stevens, died young, at forty. In my past life, I was utterly consumed by love. Not long after his death, I followed him into the grave. It was only after I died that I learned Andrew had already written a will, leaving all his assets and shares to Serena Thorne, his childhood crush, his “moonlight goddess.” And me, with my weak-willed nature, he had subtly planted the seed of suicide in my mind, all to clear the path for Serena. I opened my eyes again, back to the moment Andrew had another episode, telling me he couldn’t bear to leave me. This time, I gripped his hand back. “Since that’s the case, leave all your money to me.” “And, you have good taste; you can help me find my next husband.” 1 Andrew frowned in surprise. He looked at me in disbelief, probably struggling to understand why I would say such a thing. After all, just yesterday, I was still clutching his diagnosis, weeping hysterically, showing every sign of wanting to live and die with him. Now, I was utterly calm, asking him for money and a new man. I ignored his suspicious gaze. After a moment’s thought, I added, “Honey, I know you’re strong, but the company’s stability is paramount. Since you’re ill, why don’t I take over Stevens Corp. for now?” Andrew’s face completely darkened. He knew I’d been lazy my whole life. The company my parents left me, I’d handed it all over to him, never asking a single question. That’s how Andrew managed to secretly merge our two companies’ businesses and gradually transfer them to Serena. Now that I was saying I wanted to take over, he couldn’t find a counter-argument. Serena, however, seemed anxious. She quickly stepped forward. “Miss Dawson, you haven’t studied business management. I’m afraid you won’t be able to handle the business affairs.” I lifted my eyelids to look at her. This was the first time I had really scrutinized this woman. To be fair, she wasn’t an absolute beauty. But her eyes were soft and alluring, with a unique charm that men often found irresistible. When she first joined the company, I had also sensed something amiss and asked Andrew why he hired a divorced woman as his secretary. At the time, Andrew’s expression was indifferent. He flipped through documents as he said, “Serena has her advantages. I value capability, not marital status. Yolanda, don’t you dare bring workplace discrimination into this.” In my eyes, he had always been rational and clever. How could I have imagined that he was just an ordinary man? The eldest son of the Stevens family, who had consistently ranked first in school, was chosen as the heir, and whose words and actions were always flawless, was secretly deeply in love with a woman from a poor family, with nothing to her name, divorced, and with a child. I held no personal animosity towards Serena. I felt it was my fault for not managing my husband better. But if she was going to challenge me, I saw no need to be polite. With a cold face, I said, “No matter how bad my ability is, this is still my family’s company. It’s not a secretary’s place to dictate terms.” 2 Just one sentence, and Andrew already seemed displeased. He frowned slightly. “Yolanda, watch your tone. Secretary Thorne is just stating facts; she has no other intentions.” “You’re too used to being a spoiled rich girl, looking down on people. You’d best get rid of that nasty habit quickly.” Already burdened with two lifetimes of grievances, my patience snapped. “I won’t change. You’re practically dying, what right do you have to dictate my temper?!” “You care if your secretary feels wronged, but you don’t care if your wife will have no one to depend on and suffer hardships in the future, Andrew Stevens, you bastard, you have no conscience.” Serena couldn’t help but step forward. “Miss Dawson, that’s not right. Mr. Stevens is ill, how can you still yell at him?” I glared at her, then saw Andrew’s expression, and held back my words. For the sake of the money, my tone softened after all. “Honey, I wasn’t trying to lose my temper. It’s just that your health isn’t good, and I was worried you couldn’t handle everything, which is why I made that suggestion.” “But I didn’t expect you to yell at me for your secretary. You hurt me deeply.” “I’ll go back first. Let’s both cool down. We can talk about everything tomorrow.” With that, I turned and walked away, leaving Andrew stunned. Even after leaving the hospital room, my heart still felt heavy. After all, I had truly loved Andrew Stevens. In the past life, when Andrew was first diagnosed with cancer, he uncharacteristically clasped my hand, his voice deep, and told me, “Don’t be afraid, Yolanda, I’ll fight to live.” “I love you, I can’t live without you. For our future, I will definitely fight this illness.” His hand trembled slightly, and he was no longer as aloof as before. I cried with emotion, thinking my love had finally been returned. But I never imagined that while Andrew spoke to me, his gaze lingered on his ever-present secretary in the hospital room. It was only after I died that I realized Andrew had played a clever game of ‘under the lamplight.’ The divorced female secretary he always kept by his side was Serena Thorne, his high school sweetheart, the “moonlight goddess” who had gone to study abroad, leaving him and breaking up with him. 3 He loved her so much that, fearing she would suffer alone with her child, he left all his inheritance and company shares to her. Not content with that, he even emotionally manipulated me, his love-struck fool of a wife, to die alongside him. Once I was gone, my family’s assets would also be without an heir, eventually being swallowed up by Serena piece by piece. Now, thinking about it again, money is where the love is. If Andrew kept saying he couldn’t bear to leave me, then by that logic, his money should be mine. In this life, I would reclaim everything that belonged to me. I walked out of the hospital doors in a few brisk steps. Just as I descended the stairs, I ran into Andrew’s parents and my childhood friend, Alex Blade. My mother-in-law had never liked me. She thought I was childish and naive, and she would always scold me whenever she saw me. This time was no exception. Seeing me, she immediately lectured, “Andrew is still sick; where are you running off to?” “Running around all day, you clearly have no upbringing.” “I don’t know what Andrew was thinking, why he insisted on marrying you.” Her words were quite impolite. I couldn’t help but retort, “Well, he married me, and we’ve slept together for five years. What’s the point of saying that now?” “You always think I’m no good, but your son is dying, and I haven’t even complained that he’s short-lived.” My mother-in-law choked, “That’s because you cursed him!” “I haven’t even started scolding you, and you’re already talking about us. If it weren’t for you, this bad luck charm, how would our Andrew have gotten cancer?” “You cursed your own parents to death, and now you’re harming my son, you shameless wretch.” Her words cut deep, and in my past life, I actually blamed everything on myself. My parents died in a car accident when they drove me to see the sea in the middle of the night because I insisted. When Andrew was diagnosed with cancer, my first reaction was, Is my birth chart too strong, causing everyone close to me to leave one by one? Now, I don’t think that way anymore. It was clear that several men in his Stevens family had died of cancer; they had a genetic defect. How dare she blame me? Too lazy to argue with my mother-in-law, I simply gave up. “If you dislike me so much, then tell your son to divorce me.” “Anyway, he’s dying now, and I don’t want to be with him anymore.” Mother-in-law: “??? Good, good, good, you’ve finally shown your true colors. I’ll tell my son to divorce you, you bad luck charm.” With that, she cursed and grumbled as she walked away. I let out a long sigh, about to celebrate. I turned my head and saw Alex Blade leaning against the door, hands in his pockets. He still had that devil-may-care look. Even though he was already an airline captain, he always liked to tease me in private. This time, his eyes were full of a mischievous grin. “Oh, so our little Yolanda finally stopped being a love-struck fool and a doormat?” “If you get divorced, would you consider me?” 4 That man never had a kind word to say. Like now, I was absolutely sure he was mocking me. From childhood, Alex had always been like this. Despite having a face that could charm anyone, his words were sharper than a scorpion’s tail. He really disapproved of my pursuit of Andrew Stevens. Every time I bought something to please Andrew, he’d call me his little doormat, his little fool. He’d constantly pick on me, asking defiantly, “Yolanda, what exactly do I lack compared to that pretentious guy?” I was too lazy to humor him. “Andrew Stevens scored 701, you scored 107. What do you think?” Alex choked, his tongue pressing against his cheek. “Are you saying if I scored 701, you’d send me food too?” “I might consider it.” “It’s a deal.” From then on, the once idle young master of the Blade family suddenly studied like a madman. In just half a year, he went from last in class to second. He was eager to show off, but I had a family tragedy; my parents died, and I had to move to another city to live with my grandparents. It wasn’t until years later, when I reconnected with Andrew Stevens in college, that I picked up my “doormat” duties again and unexpectedly ran into Alex Blade once more. Unfortunately, this time he was a step too slow. The day before he asked me to meet, I successfully “doormat-ed” my way into becoming Andrew Stevens’s girlfriend. When Alex found out, he just gave me a cold laugh. His long index finger poked my forehead. “You blind fool, I’d like to see if you can live a good life!” The fact proved that I couldn’t live well. I spent my entire life with Andrew Stevens, being completely manipulated by him. It was only at my death that I realized he merely used me as a placeholder, knowing he had a cancer defect, and chose to be with me so as not to hinder his moonlight goddess. He meticulously planned, built a vast empire, and left everything except his parents’ portion to Serena. In the end, Serena became the richest woman in the country, and even turned their love story into a TV series, with me as the shameless side character. Oh, I was so angry, I only wished I could become a ghost and choke that shameless woman. Now, reborn, I would never fall for their tricks again. In this life, I want the money, I want the company. And as for men, I’m going to find eight! I glanced at Alex Blade, who was still waiting for my reply, and said with an air of profound wisdom, “I’m done being a doormat. But I don’t want you. You’re too old, your physique isn’t great, your stamina isn’t good, you won’t satisfy me.” Alex Blade, who had been wearing a mischievous grin, instantly froze. 5 I returned alone to the house I shared with Andrew Stevens. This time, I finally discovered many unsettling things. For example, in his constantly locked study, the drawers held love letters Serena had sent him during college. For example, in the guest room no one ever stayed in, at the very bottom of the closet, were Serena’s clothes. Serena loved stars; the house decor and arrangements were full of star elements. But I loved roses, and Andrew found them tacky, not allowing a single one during renovation. Even the rose ornaments my friends gave me for our wedding were thrown away by Andrew, who said they were an eyesore. The more I thought about it, the more I felt pathetic. How could I have lived like such a fool before, completely in the dark? I picked up Andrew’s favorite golf club and smashed the house clean. Then I called a designer to redecorate. I packed some of my things and moved to the city’s largest hotel. Before I could even think about what to do next, Andrew called. His tone was better than before, distinctly gentle. “Yolanda.” “Hmm?” “Are you angry?” “No.” “This afternoon, I only said a couple of things to you, and you turned around and left, then argued with my mother. Your temper is getting worse and worse.” I said, “My temper is nowhere near as bad as yours.” From childhood, when was it ever not him ignoring me? When we were dating, if I did anything slightly wrong, Andrew could ignore me for days. Before he was diagnosed with cancer, he was always indifferent to me. It was me who was passionate, always fantasizing that we had an epic romance. Thinking back, he really only became gentler and more openly affectionate after he was diagnosed with cancer. And I, after finally receiving emotional response, became more and more afraid of his death. Andrew was sick for ten years, and I took care of him for ten years. In those last days, he was almost constantly in a coma, unable to control his bladder or bowels. I didn’t hire a nurse; I turned him over, changed his diapers, did everything myself. My once delicate fingers eventually became covered with calluses. The day he died, the sun was shining brightly. I was wiping his back when he suddenly opened his eyes. Seeing it was me, his eyes darkened, then he said, “Yolanda, I can’t bear to leave you. If I’m gone, what will you do alone?” How foolish I was, thinking I was loved by a man for life, almost unable to live without him. I didn’t expect he was just clearing the last obstacle for Serena, enticing me to also go to extremes. In truth, if a woman isn’t completely consumed by love, she can see many things clearly. Like now, I saw through his intentions at a glance and didn’t want to play along anymore. I heard my own clear, cold voice: “Andrew Stevens, if you think I’m so terrible, you can find another wife.” He still had ten years to live, so even if we divorced now, he could still ‘guard’ Serena for ten years. I didn’t expect Andrew to be so determined to drag me down. Hearing me talk about divorce, his voice was incredibly deep. “Why divorce, Yolanda Dawson, is it just because I have cancer?”

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I was brutally murdered, and my mother was the sole witness. But the trauma was so severe, she couldn’t remember the killer’s face. Everyone comforted her. “It’s okay, take your time, you’ll remember eventually.” Yet, ten years passed. Mom never did remember. On the tenth anniversary of my death, Officer Miller pressed her again. But Mom leaned down, kissed my nine-year-old sister, and said with serene resignation, “Let me just forget those painful memories completely.” “After all, I have a new daughter now.” 1 Ten years after my death, Officer Miller still patiently pleaded with my mother. “Try to remember.” “If you can recall the perpetrator’s face, the case will truly be solved.” “Elara was your daughter, don’t you want her to rest in peace?” But my mother’s face remained utterly devoid of emotion. She slowly lifted her eyes, her voice blank. “You’re the ones who are incompetent.” “You haven’t caught the killer in ten years. Do you really think you can now?” A flicker of awkwardness crossed Officer Miller’s face, but he remained patient. “I understand how you feel. That day, Elara suffered a terrible fate, and you were also deeply traumatized.” “However, there were no cameras on that street, and the rescue efforts unfortunately compromised some evidence.” “You are the sole witness.” “If you can recall any detail, no matter how insignificant, it might be the key to finding the killer.” As Officer Miller spoke, I hovered behind him, nodding frantically. “Yes, Mom, what exactly happened that night? Please try to remember.” “I’ve been stuck in this house for ten years; I really want to know.” My mother’s eyes finally showed a hint of wavering. Her voice caught in her throat. “I’ve already told you, I can’t remember.” “As soon as I try to recall what happened that day, my heart races, and I can’t breathe.” “If I try harder, I’ll pass out.” “It’s truly, too painful.” As my mother spoke, tears silently streamed down her face, as if she was reliving that suffocating terror. Watching my mother tremble, I instantly regained my composure. Yes, I can’t force her. Over the years, Mom had made so many efforts to recall that face hidden in the darkness. She returned to that alley again and again, standing where I fell, trying to recover her memory. She consulted countless psychologists, only to wake up screaming and crying during hypnosis. She even tried self-harm to force herself to remember. She knelt before statues in churches, banging her head until it bled, praying for clarity. Honestly, I don’t want to see her suffer like this. I floated desperately in front of her, trying to touch my mother’s face, to tell her to stop trying. Even if the killer was never found, it didn’t matter. But my hand only passed through her cheek again and again. I couldn’t comfort her. I could only watch helplessly as she said, “I’m sorry.” “I really want to help, to let Elara rest in peace, but I truly don’t want to go through this anymore.” 2 Honestly, being a ghost for all these years, I’ve lost a lot of emotion. But at this moment, I truly wished that the person who harmed me would face retribution. But what could I do? I could do nothing. I was just a soul wandering among the living. Thankfully, there was Dad. Dad was gentle by nature and adored Mom. I had never seen them argue. He was Mom’s strongest pillar of support, her right-hand man. At that moment, he quickly steadied Mom. Then, turning to Officer Miller, his tone hardened. “My wife has already said she doesn’t want to cooperate further.” “Please leave.” The two officers exchanged glances. The older one, Detective Brooks, still managed a few polite words. “It’s alright, not remembering isn’t your fault; it’s a normal reaction after such a shock.” The younger one, Officer Jenkins, already had a hint of emotion on his face. He muttered under his breath, “Doesn’t even care about her own child?” “What kind of parents are these?” The two officers left their business cards on the table and departed. As soon as they were gone, Dad threw the cards into the trash. Mom finally let down all her guard. She leaned on Dad’s shoulder, utterly still. Her voice was as low as a whisper. “Honey, am I useless?” Dad kissed her, holding her tighter. “If you can’t remember, don’t try anymore.” “Even if you never remember, I’ll never blame you.” But Mom’s tears suddenly welled up again. “Then tell me, will Elara hate me?” “Hate me… for clearly seeing who killed her, yet being unable to recall his face, unable to bring her justice.” The room was terrifyingly silent. Only Mom’s choked breathing. After a very long time, Dad finally lowered his eyes. “Don’t think about these unhappy things.” “Chloe will be out of school soon.” At the mention of that name, Mom’s sobbing stopped instantly. Chloe is my sister. She’s nine this year, lively and charming. So Mom rubbed her eyes, sighed softly. “Look at me, I forgot the time again.” “It’s time to make soup for Chloe.” 3 Actually, the day I was killed, a grim reaper came for me. But at that time, I begged, pleaded, and played dumb, saying I just wanted to spend more time with Mom. Maybe he pitied me. Maybe he was too lazy to explain anything to me. He just left without a word. And never came back. So I stayed in the house for ten years, living in constant apprehension. I watched as Mom, at first, held my photo, unable to sleep all night. Then gradually, she could sleep for an hour or two. But she always called my name in her dreams. And then, Mom gave birth to Chloe. She was so small. So soft. The darling of the whole family. And Mom and Dad’s hope for living. They didn’t mention my name to Chloe or their friends. But when it was just Dad, Mom would sometimes say a few words. “Chloe, this child, her personality is different from her sister’s.” “So mischievous, and so cute.” Yes, Chloe is light. Unlike me. I’m a shadow. Forever trapping them in place. Mom turned to the kitchen to make soup. Dad watched her back, a faint smile playing on his lips. He took out tools and began to adjust the stereo. The sound of running water in the kitchen. And the melody of a children’s song. They intertwined into a warm, domestic scene. It was as if the heartbreaking cries and agonizing questions from moments ago had never happened. I looked at Dad, then at Mom. For some reason, I suddenly didn’t want to stay home. I slowly floated out. Only then did I realize that the two police officers hadn’t left; they were resting downstairs from my house. I had seen the business card Dad threw in the trash. I knew the younger one was Officer Jenkins. He was true to his name—tall, long-legged, and full of integrity. He was indignantly saying, “What’s wrong with this family?” “Why are they so indifferent about their own biological daughter?” Detective Brooks was an old detective. My case had always been his. He exhaled a smoke ring, sighing slowly. “They do love their child. They’re just… too disappointed too many times.” My case had become a cold case. Several times people were arrested, only to be released later. Mom and Dad’s feelings had changed from initial madness, hatred, and blaming the world, to expectation, then to calm. Finally, they seemed to become bystanders. They would only say to those who cared about them, “It’s all over now.” “Let it be.” “Elara, if she has a spirit in heaven, will bless us to find the killer.” Officer Jenkins was still young. He didn’t seem to fully grasp his mentor’s logic. He wrinkled his nose. “Alright, I saw a lot of girl’s stuff at their house just now.” “It’s admirable of them, keeping Elara’s things exactly as they were for ten years.” Officer Jenkins didn’t finish his sentence. He saw a Buick minivan pull up at the entrance of the complex. Mom quickly jogged over to meet it. A girl hopped out of the car. She smiled so sweetly. A carbon copy of me, when I was alive. 4 Mother and daughter walked away hand in hand. Officer Jenkins snapped back to reality and scoffed. “No wonder they don’t care about Elara anymore.” “Turns out they have another daughter.” His tone was so bitter. It made me absolutely furious. I almost immediately rushed over, pointing at him and yelling. “How dare you say that about my parents? How dare you say they don’t care about me anymore!” “I’ve always been their most cherished, most beloved daughter! Always!” Unfortunately, I’m a ghost. The kind of ghost who stays in the human world due to obsession, with very little power. My hands can’t touch people. No matter how loud I scream, my voice won’t reach his ears. All my counterattacks did was stir a wisp of cool air. It ruffled his hair slightly. No one noticed me. Naturally, no one cared about my anger or joy. So I sulkily returned home. Dinner was already served. Three dishes and a soup, all Chloe’s favorites. She closed her eyes and showered them with praise. “Mommy’s chicken wings are the best! The best in the whole world!” I floated to the table, speaking sarcastically. “Is that all?” “When I was little, the chicken wings Mom made were truly delicious, much more flavorful than these.” Chloe ignored me and turned to praise Dad. “Dad fixed the stereo; he’s super amazing too.” A few words. And both of them were beaming. But I rolled my eyes so hard they almost went to the back of my head. This kid, I wonder who taught her. So young, yet already so good at sweet-talking. I irritably extended my finger, intending to flick Chloe on the forehead. “These chicken wings can’t shut you up!” “Say a few more words, and I’ll eat them all.” But my fingertip simply passed through the plate. My palm opened, still empty. And Chloe, happily, scooped the remaining chicken wings into her own bowl. I pouted. “So what?” “I was the first one to love chicken wings.” “Mom only made chicken wings because of me!” But no one could hear my words. I looked up again at Mom and Dad. They certainly weren’t looking at me. They were looking at Chloe. Their faces filled with loving smiles. Actually, I shouldn’t be jealous. Because when I was alive, they looked at me with the same eyes. But today, for some reason, I felt a little irritable. Maybe because I didn’t get any chicken wings. Maybe because of that mean officer’s provocation. Meanwhile, Chloe suddenly spoke. “Mommy, you promised me that when I get ten perfect scores, you’d set up an art studio for me.” She looked up, blinking. “Mommy, isn’t there an extra room in the house?” “Can I have it?” I jumped up like an angry rooster. “That’s not an extra room! That’s my room!” “You naughty child, why are you trying to steal my room?!” 5 After Chloe was born, my bedroom was locked. When she was little, she didn’t understand and cried to go in. My parents would coax her then, saying it was a secret room. She could only go in when she was older. But the year Chloe turned five, Mom forgot to lock it. She snuck in. She rummaged through everything in my room. She even pulled all my comic books out of my drawer and threw them all over the floor. When Mom found her, Chloe burst into tears. She thought Mom was going to hit her. But Mom said nothing. She just handed over the yellowed comic book. “If you like it, take it.” But Mom never told Chloe, “This book was your sister’s favorite. You must cherish it.” So I watched as Chloe took it to school. Then a naughty boy kicked it into a puddle. At this moment, facing Chloe’s request, Dad actually said something fair. “That room cannot be touched.” “How about this, I’ll partition a part of the living room for your art studio, how does that sound?” That was a good idea. But Mom suddenly objected. “No.” “That would make the house feel even smaller.” This house wasn’t very big. I was born here. Back then, Dad was still a junior clerk at his company. Mom’s career hadn’t taken off either. They didn’t have much money. It was after my death that their business grew bigger and bigger. But they never moved. Perhaps to preserve my memory. After all, they said this old house was filled with my traces. On the wall in the entryway, there were pencil lines. From a short little mark, all the way up. Finally stopping at the year I was fourteen. In the closet, Mom neatly folded all my school uniforms, as if I would still come home to wear them. But now, Mom put down her chopsticks and said casually, “Then let’s move.” Dad’s smile froze for a moment. “Honey, didn’t we say we’d keep…” He very tacitly avoided mentioning my name. They never mentioned my name in front of Chloe. But Mom nodded, becoming even more resolute. “We can’t just stay here forever because of what happened in the past.” “As for that room…” She looked back, her eyes complex. “No one will live in it anymore.”

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The day before my global piano master competition, intruders stormed into my home. They brutally murdered my parents and grievously harmed my sister, leaving her irrevocably traumatized. It was my childhood friend who bravely came to my rescue, apprehending the assailants and bringing them to justice. She also tenderly handled all the funeral arrangements for my family, as I was too distraught to leave the house. Though I was left with a persistent tremor in my hands, making it impossible to play the piano again, she remained steadfastly by my side. She even defied her parents’ objections to marry me. Five days before our wedding, I overheard her unexpected phone call with her private doctor from outside the door: “Ms. Sullivan, five years ago you hired someone to cause an accident to the Baker family. You’ve already ruined Mr. Baker once. Are you really going to be so cruel as to ruin him a second time?” “I promised Lucas I would help him achieve his dream.” “Only if Everett Baker was out of the picture could Lucas stand on that stage to receive the World Piano Master award.” “Lucas is my reason for being, my everything. For Lucas, I’m willing to bear any burden…” Outside the door, tears silently streamed down my face. My heartbroken eyes shattered, consumed by a fierce hatred. So, her so-called love for me was nothing but a lie. 1 “Investigate the truth behind the Baker family tragedy.” Only after making that call to the private investigator did I wipe the dry tears from my face. It seemed there were no more tears left to shed. Inside the room, Willow Sullivan’s voice resonated. “As long as Lucas is happy, I have no regrets.” The private doctor on the other end reluctantly asked, “But Mr. Baker’s hands have finally fully recovered. Are you sure you want to…” Willow’s answer was instantaneous, without a moment of hesitation. “Only by completely extinguishing his desire to play the piano can Lucas remain the most brilliant piano master.” The private doctor nervously pressed, “What if he finds out you orchestrated the accident for his parents and sister, all for Lucas to win an award?!” Willow fell silent for a moment, tracing the wedding ring on her finger. After a long pause, she spoke, her voice hoarse: “As long as I’m always good to him, he’ll never suspect me…” “I’ve already married him. Repaying him with my entire life, that should be enough.” Just a door away. Hearing these words, my heart, betrayed in that instant, nearly cried out in pain. My lips were bitten until they bled, my nails practically embedded in my flesh. I somehow maintained my composure, quietly returning to the room. In our wedding chamber, I gazed absently at our wedding photo hanging on the wall. In the picture, her eyes, filled with tenderness, now struck me as sinister and terrifying. On a nearby table sat our family photo. My father, mother, and sister, surrounding me, cherishing me. I still remembered that day when the intruders broke into our home. My father, trying to buy us time to escape, rushed forward to fight them but was tragically overcome and silenced. My mother, attempting to shield my sister and me, desperately blocked the door, only to be gravely injured. My sister, though physically unharmed by the intruders, was deeply scarred and traumatized by the horrific events. Had Willow not arrived in time to save me, I too would have perished. Yet, everyone whispered that I had led my family to their fate, that I had only survived by using their lives to buy time. I was powerless to defend myself. My adopted brother, Lucas Baker, seemed to share this belief. My reputation was ruined, my life plunged into an abyss. Under immense pressure, my mental health deteriorated, leaving me with a persistent tremor in my hands, making it impossible to play the piano, unable even to hold a fork steady. I truly believed I had abandoned my family and selfishly clung to life. When I was on the verge of jumping from the thirtieth floor, consumed by despair, it was Willow who pulled me back. Under her meticulous care, my condition gradually improved. I even accepted her proposal, despite the malicious rumors surrounding me. I never imagined that her love, which had melted my heart and soul, was the meticulously crafted product of endless malice. It was more chilling than poison disguised with honey. My hands, which hadn’t trembled in a long time, violently shook, sending our family photo crashing to the floor. Hearing the noise, Willow immediately rushed in. “Everett, what’s wrong…” Seeing me standing amidst sharp shards on the floor, clutching the broken family photo, my eyes red-rimmed, her breath hitched. She quickly walked over and pulled me into her embrace. The scent of wisteria perfume, one I’d smelled countless times, wafted over me. It was my favorite. Her voice was soft as she comforted me: “Don’t cry… Uncle and Auntie will be happy seeing you happy up in heaven.” I gently pushed her away, creating some distance. “I’m fine, it’s just my hand tremor acting up again.” Hearing my reply, Willow seemed to relax slightly. She gently felt my wrist bones, her touch so delicate, as if afraid to break them. “Get some rest. Tomorrow, we’ll go pick out the wedding dress.” I couldn’t distinguish her feelings for me. How much was genuine, how much was false? I had been countless times captivated by the subtle affection she showed, lost in it beyond recovery. Her pity for me seemed real. But her deception and manipulation were also real. Now, seeing that tender expression, I only felt disgust. I nodded, but didn’t tell her. Once I uncovered the truth of that year, it would be over between us. 2 Early the next morning, we drove to the city’s most renowned bridal boutique. With only four days left until the wedding, our outfits were still undecided. Willow had said she was hand-making a dress for me, a unique, one-of-a-kind gown. At the boutique, the assistant asked me to wait on the sofa. Willow smiled, pulling me down beside her. “You’ll love it.” In the past, I would have eagerly awaited the surprise she had prepared. But now, I only felt cynical. My phone rang. It was a message from the private investigator. Mr. Baker, I’ve found some past information about Willow Sullivan and Lucas Baker. I watched the messages pop up on my phone, unable to control my trembling hands. Seeing this, Willow quickly took my hand, asking worriedly, “What’s wrong?” I subtly withdrew my hand, suddenly feeling she was a complete stranger. It turned out her profound love, meticulous in its details, all carried Lucas Baker’s shadow. Under his influence, I had gradually grown to love wisteria perfume. It was a unique blend she had personally created for Lucas, his exclusive scent. That’s why she would spray it all over herself before we became intimate. I used to think it was a sign of her love for me. It was, in fact, proof that her heart belonged to someone else. Even the soft kiss she’d give me under the covers before sleep each night, was a habit Lucas had indulged in with her, a childish plea for affection. Willow looked at my withdrawn hand, momentarily stunned. Just then, the assistant brought out the suit she had designed for me. The moment I saw it, my heart seemed to stop beating. It was the most opulent attire I had ever seen. Beside it hung a pure white wedding dress, perfectly matched. Willow, smiling, looked at me expectantly, as if awaiting praise: “Everett, are you happy?” She said she had traveled to various countries, sought countless masters, and poured her heart and soul into designing this suit. But the video on my phone showed Lucas Baker wearing an identical suit, the very same “one-of-a-kind” suit right before my eyes. In the video, the two of them, dressed in a wedding gown and suit, spoke their vows with deep affection, swearing to dedicate their entire lives to each other. Every word was devoid of evasion or jest, utterly sincere. A wave of sorrow washed over me. I began to doubt if the fleeting pain in her eyes yesterday was truly due to concern for me, or if it was the guilt buried deep in her heart, taking root. 3 That day at the bridal shop, I didn’t give Willow Sullivan an answer. She was called away by a phone call and then vanished. She claimed it was a company emergency, but I knew it was for Lucas Baker. With only two days left until the wedding, I decided to visit my parents and my sister. I needed to tell them my decision. When I arrived at the cemetery, I saw the two people who least should have been there. Willow and Lucas Baker, dressed formally, stood before the graves of my parents and sister. Lucas held a trophy, representing the World Piano Master award, sobbing uncontrollably. “Dad, Mom, sis, your son wishes you could have witnessed this, seen that I haven’t disgraced you…” With that, Lucas placed the trophy at the grave and gently brushed dust from the photos. Willow reached out, as if to embrace his arm. My appearance instantly changed their expressions. Willow’s hand, about to reach Lucas, froze for a moment, then quickly dropped. She explained to me, “Everett, it’s not what you think. Lucas and I…” Her eyes held a nervous tension, her slender fingers unconsciously clenching. She seemed genuinely afraid I would misunderstand. I glanced at her, saying nothing. I just looked at Lucas and spoke softly: “Brother, when did you get back? Why didn’t you tell me before visiting Mom and Dad, and sis?” Lucas wiped the tears from his eyes and looked up again. “Your most unworthy son has finally achieved something. I wanted Mom and Dad to praise me.” He paused, his voice catching. “I hope you can forgive my selfishness…” Lucas broke down in tears again. Willow’s eyes were filled with complex emotions. Her hand rose several times but ultimately did not reach for his arm. “Brother, Everett is marrying Willow. He must have something to say. I borrowed Willow for a while; it’s time to give her back to Everett.” After Lucas left, Willow came over to me. Her anxiety escalated, her lips pressed into a thin line: “Lucas and I, it’s not what you think.” Seeing my silence, she seemed to panic, reaching out to grasp my hand. Suddenly, her phone vibrated with a distinctive ringtone. Her outstretched hand froze mid-air. I silently watched her struggle for a moment, then reach for her phone. In the past, whenever we were together, whether on a date, at dinner, or during more intimate moments, she had left me countless times because of that specific ringtone. She’d claimed it was an urgent work matter that couldn’t be postponed. But now I knew it was her exclusive ringtone for Lucas. She looked at me with guilt. “Lucas and I really have nothing going on. I have work to handle now. Please be careful going home alone.” With that, she hurried away. Watching her retreating figure, I felt neither sorrow nor joy. I simply looked at my family’s gravestones, the memory of that night replaying in my mind. My phone buzzed again with a new lead from the detective. All of this, finally, was coming to an end. 4 The final day before the wedding. The private investigator sent more clues. Mr. Baker, I’ve found some leads regarding the mastermind, but I hope you’re mentally prepared. I clicked on the video he sent. It was the same dimly lit, damp rental room. I noticed a shattered trophy on the floor. It was the second-place trophy from the national piano competition when I was fifteen. The first place had gone to me, after only a month of playing piano. In the video, Lucas Baker was crying hysterically in Willow Sullivan’s arms, his face contorted with a resentment I’d never seen before. “Why, why after ten years of hard practice am I still not as good as him…?” “I hate it so much, I can’t accept it… Why does he even exist? If he disappeared, if he died, the championship would be mine!” “The championship should have been mine all along!” Listening to the beast-like roar from his throat, listening to him curse me, damn me, wishing for my death, I watched the pain in Willow’s eyes harden into ice, as if she was making a grim decision. “I will help you achieve your dream, even if I have to bear everything…” My already fractured heart shattered completely. After calming down, I called Lucas Baker. He seemed to have been waiting a long time. “I thought you’d never come looking for me.” I pursed my lips and asked him, “Shall we meet?”

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My mother’s heart disease relapsed, and she desperately needed money for life-saving treatment. I summoned every ounce of courage to go to my secret boyfriend of ten years, a man worth over a hundred million, to borrow money. However, before I could even open my mouth, he coldly reprimanded me. His efficient female secretary immediately escorted me out of the conference room to wait. I waited for a grueling eight hours. Until the hospital called with the news of my mother’s death. My boyfriend seemed to remember my existence only then, instructing his secretary to usher me into his office. “Alright, tell me, what did you come here for?” A bitter, desolate laugh escaped my lips. “Nothing much. I just wanted to waste a bit of your time… and break up with you.” 1 “I just ended a ten-year relationship. Are you really sure you want to marry me?” The man sitting opposite me paused for a moment, then solemnly replied, “Eliza, I’ve waited for you for ten years.” My heart clenched sharply. “Okay, we’ll get married in seven days.” With our agreement made, I grabbed my bag and left the coffee shop, heading for the train station. This was the third day after my mother’s passing. For these three days, I had cried inconsolably every single day. The entire world knew my mother was gone. Yet, my boyfriend of ten years, Alex, remained utterly oblivious. We never shared our social circles. He never introduced me to his friends, nor did he ever care to meet mine. On top of that, Alex was a billionaire, every minute of his time calculated in thousands. So, he never bothered to stoop down and check my social media. Not only did he not know my mother had died, he didn’t even know she died because there wasn’t enough money for her surgery. So, as my mother’s ashes were laid into the earth, I decided to cut all ties with Alex and marry another man. A cold, drizzling rain began to fall, and my phone chimed right on cue. The message was from Alex’s secretary, Olivia. “Ms. Eliza, Mr. Alex is traveling tomorrow. Please prepare two pairs of leather shoes and three suits for him.” Reading Olivia’s commanding message, despite my firm resolve to break up with Alex, my heart still ached. For a significant part of my ten-year relationship with Alex, Olivia’s presence loomed large. I’d send Alex a playful message, and Olivia would be the one to reply. “Apologies, Ms. Eliza, Mr. Alex is in a meeting. I will relay your message.” Even mundane aspects of my and Alex’s daily life—buying contraceptives, groceries, clothes, everyday wear—were almost exclusively handled by Olivia. I disliked it immensely and had confronted Alex countless times. But each time, Alex would merely look at me calmly. “Eliza, you have no taste, no discernment. I’m having the more capable Olivia help you with these things. What’s the fuss about?” In the past, Alex’s words would always leave me speechless. But now, I had simply resigned myself. Indeed, how could a graduate from a regular university like me compare to Olivia, a postgraduate from a prestigious overseas institution? She was worldly, capable of dealing with clients externally, and could meticulously manage Alex’s daily life internally. Unlike me, who, after ten years at Alex’s company, was still an insignificant employee in the operations department. But now, a sneer simply played on my lips. If Alex valued Olivia so much, then I would just give him to her. I promptly replied to Olivia: “Secretary Olivia, I don’t have time to prepare clothes for Alex. If you don’t mind, you can personally go to the house and prepare them for your Mr. Alex.” 2 Olivia’s message was an instant reply: “Understood, Ms. Eliza, I will inform Mr. Alex.” A sharp, piercing pain once again shot through my heart. If not for the timely arrival of the ride-share, tears would have surely streamed down my face in the rain. This feeling of hitting a wall of cotton, utterly ineffective, had long since become utterly detestable. But thankfully, after a seven-hour train ride, my mood had significantly calmed by the time I arrived back at Alex’s villa. As soon as I entered, I saw Alex sitting on the sofa. His hair was still damp, and drops of water beaded on his skin beneath his open V-neck robe. This used to be the Alex I adored most. I instinctively pursed my lips, about to walk towards him. A seductive yet clear voice drifted from the bathroom. “Mr. Alex, may I dry your hair for you now?” As the words finished, a crimson figure emerged from the bathroom. I turned my head sideways, and my eyes met Olivia’s. Especially when my gaze fell upon her bright red nightgown, the mockery on my lips became impossible to suppress. You see, the nightgown Olivia was wearing was the only gift Alex had ever bought me with his own money. Because I cherished it so much, I had only worn it once since purchasing it. But now, it was draped across Olivia’s body. I took a deep breath. “Excuse me, I seem to have interrupted your evening. It appears I’ve returned at an inconvenient time.” With that, I picked up my suitcase and turned to leave. Alex, however, suddenly walked over and angrily grabbed me. “Eliza, what are you doing now? Olivia and I were drenched when we went on a site visit in the heavy rain, so we came back to the villa to change.” Honestly, I truly wanted to just endure it. After all, I was getting married to another man in four days. My only reason for returning was to resign and break up with Alex. But I didn’t care what Alex and Olivia did “improperly” outside. What I absolutely could not tolerate was Alex letting Olivia wear my nightgown and act like this in what I once considered our home, all while he and I were still technically together. “So you’re saying the hickeys on her body aren’t from you?” Yes, because this nightgown was a lingerie style—it was not only sheer but also quite revealing. So I instantly spotted the hickeys subtly hidden beneath the delicate fabric on Olivia’s skin. A flicker of panic crossed Alex’s face. Olivia, however, spoke up promptly, “Ms. Eliza, the hickeys on my body are my private business and have nothing to do with you. You have no right to question them. If you feel my presence is affecting you, I can avoid coming to this villa. But I hope you won’t always threaten to run away. Do you realize how busy Mr. Alex is? Constantly upsetting him like this, he’s only human, he gets tired too.” Olivia truly was a graduate from a prestigious university. In just a few sentences, she had branded me as unreasonable. Suppressing the surging pain in my heart, I was about to retort to Olivia. Alex then spoke with a cold face, “Eliza, you apologize to Olivia right now! Olivia is my assistant, not your emotional punching bag. I hope you won’t challenge my patience repeatedly.” My face pale, I met Alex’s gaze, not with anger, but with a bitter laugh. “Alex, you want me to apologize? Dream on!” 3 With that, I grabbed my suitcase and stormed back to my room in a fit of anger. As if to punish me, Alex did not come to my room that night. A bitter smile played on my lips as I thought about it. Though I was Alex’s girlfriend, I was more like his mistress. He could enter my room whenever he pleased. But if I wanted to find him, I had to knock and wait for his permission to enter. If he was in a bad mood, he wouldn’t even bother to reply with a simple “busy.” But now, it was actually quite convenient. With only four days left until my wedding, I didn’t want any more contact with him. When I woke up the next morning, Alex was already seated at the dining table. He gestured to the milk on the table. “Don’t you have a sensitive stomach? I had Esther warm up some milk for you.” This was Alex’s usual way of making peace. In the past, to give him an out, I would typically drink the milk down in one go, even though I detested it. Instead of taking the milk cup from his hand as usual, I called for Esther. “Esther, please bring me a bowl of porridge.” Alex, however, pushed the milk back into my hand. “I merely asked you to apologize to Olivia last night. Why are you suddenly so delicate? Olivia is my right-hand woman; you know I can’t lose her. If I upset her and she leaves, how will I manage my work?” Looking at his eyes, which held a gentle gaze, my heart instinctively tightened. Alex and I met during our internship. He was the boss, and I was a fresh intern. Since I didn’t know who the boss was when I first started, one time while buying coffee for my department, I asked him to press the elevator button for my floor. After that, I started receiving flowers every now and then, until a month later Alex called to invite me to dinner. At our first formal meeting in a five-star hotel, he was a gentleman, knowledgeable, and charming. I was smitten by him that very first night. Six months later, I moved into his villa. In the first year of our relationship, we were truly happy. He would personally bake all sorts of pastries for me. If I caught a cold or fell ill, he would abandon meetings to rush home and care for me. Because we wanted to keep our relationship private, when I worked late, he would also stay late in his office. Then, like thieves, we would secretly have late-night snacks and share kisses in his office. I was certain that the old Alex was madly in love with me. But ever since Olivia became his secretary, even a tender glance from him had become a luxury. I pulled at the corner of my mouth, stating lightly: “If you can’t do without Olivia, why don’t you just marry her? Tie her down in a marriage certificate; wouldn’t that be the safest option?” Alex’s impatience was evident. Even without guessing, I knew he would once again utter words about me being unreasonable. So I decided to speak first. “Alex, we’re brea—” Before I could finish, Olivia walked in from outside the villa. “Mr. Alex, it’s eight o’clock. We need to leave for the office now.” Alex immediately stood up with a cold face, grabbed his suit jacket, and followed her out. My punch landed on cotton once again. It didn’t hurt, but it was suffocating enough. 4 Soon after Alex and Olivia left, I also packed my bag and headed to the office. As soon as I arrived, my boss called me into his office. He looked at me helplessly and pushed a performance review across the desk. “Eliza, I’m really sorry. I truly did my best. I originally thought that after I left, this position would surely be yours, but to my surprise, the higher-ups rejected my recommendation with a unanimous vote.” Looking at the remorse in the department manager’s eyes, I calmly pulled out my resignation letter. “Mr. Chen, it’s alright. I’ve already decided to resign.” Mr. Chen looked at me in surprise. “Are you really going to resign? You’ve worked diligently at this company for ten years, solving so many problems. And now you’re leaving?” A bitter smile played on my lips. But it was precisely because I had worked diligently for ten years at the company, yet hadn’t achieved anything I truly desired, that I had to leave. Alex had once made a promise to me: as soon as I reached the position of Operations Manager, he would take me home to meet his parents, and we would get married. I believed his vow. I worked tirelessly, striving for performance. But no matter how hard I pushed myself, even if I had the best performance and evaluation in the company, the Operations Manager position changed hands again and again, but it was never mine. I had confronted Alex countless times, but each time he would just look at me coldly. “Eliza, if you can’t get that position, it means you’re not capable enough. You should reflect on where you need to improve, instead of making a scene and expecting me to use pillow talk for you.” That was the first time I felt a profound chill. Because besides desperately wanting to marry Alex, I also longed for recognition for my hard work. Perhaps the pain in my heart was too intense, and the tears in my eyes welled up uncontrollably. Fearing that I would expose my vulnerability in front of Mr. Chen, I hurriedly stood up: “Excuse me, Mr. Chen, I need to go to the restroom.” 5 Sobs mingled with the sound of the flushing toilet in the restroom. It was only then that I realized how much pain and resentment I had harbored during my ten years with Alex. And just as I was sobbing in the restroom, I heard voices outside the door. “I heard Mr. Chen from operations is leaving, and he recommended Eliza for the operations manager position.” “Secretary Olivia, others might not know, but we in the secretarial office all know that Mr. Alex once promised Eliza he would marry her if she became operations manager.” Olivia let out a cold laugh. “That fool Eliza, does she really deserve to marry Mr. Alex? Don’t worry, I stopped her from becoming operations manager before, and I’ll stop her again this time.” “That idiot Eliza, she’s really persistent. I’ve been subtly docking her year-end bonuses, trying to force her out of the company, but she’s just gritted her teeth and stayed.” A wave of intense hatred surged into my heart. Over the years at the company, all employees who achieved results received generous year-end bonuses. All long-term employees could get performance raises based on their tenure, but I was stuck at the entry-level salary. This was why I had to desperately beg Alex for money to pay for my mother’s medical treatment. I never imagined that Olivia was behind all of it. I furiously flung open the restroom door and stormed out. “Olivia, it was you, wasn’t it? You’ve been withholding my salary all these years!” “If you like Alex, why didn’t you just tell me? I would have let you have him! Why did you have to play these dirty tricks behind my back?” With that, I angrily lunged forward and slapped Olivia squarely across the face. Olivia’s face instantly contorted with fury. Just as I braced myself for her to slap me back. She suddenly knelt before me. “Ms. Eliza, I know you’re Mr. Alex’s girlfriend. I can’t provoke you, but can’t I at least avoid you? I’ll resign today. I just beg you, please don’t bully or hit me anymore. I know I was wrong, just let me off the hook.” Seeing Olivia’s actions, I froze for a moment. The next instant, a cold voice came from outside the restroom. “Eliza, what are you doing? This is a company, not your personal arena for acting like a shrew! Apologize to Olivia right this instant!” With that, Alex walked over and, with a face full of concern, helped Olivia up. “Are you alright? Where did she hit you? I’ll take you to the hospital immediately.” Olivia, however, cried and flung herself into Alex’s arms. “Mr. Alex… I’m fine… It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have rejected Ms. Eliza’s application for Operations Manager. It’s only natural for her to resent me.” “I just couldn’t stand her using her seniority to throw her weight around in the company all these years, to the point where even Mr. Chen had to defer to her. Didn’t Mr. Chen even leave the company because he couldn’t take her anymore?” “But she actually threatened Mr. Chen to endorse her for Operations Manager. I truly didn’t want the company to be thrown into chaos because of her, so I was forced to reject her application for the position.” “But I never imagined Ms. Eliza would find out and then rush into the restroom to hit me!” Alex’s face darkened further. He gently patted Olivia’s back, then turned to me, his face alight with anger. “Eliza, do you really think I would marry you just because you became Operations Manager? Take a look at your social standing, do you even deserve me?” “For these ten years, I’ve fed you, clothed you. Do you genuinely believe you’re some high society lady? Go to HR right now, process your resignation, and get out of my company!” A sneer played on my lips. So, this was Alex’s true inner thought? So, from beginning to end, Alex only saw me as a mistress, not a girlfriend. In truth, I had known the answer long ago; I just wasn’t willing to admit it. Tears slipped from my eyes. I calmly wiped them away and pulled out my resignation letter. “No need for you, Mr. Alex, to personally escort me out. I’ll leave on my own. Here’s my resignation letter.” 6 I had never called Alex “Mr. Alex” before. So when the distant “Mr. Alex” left my lips, it stung Alex, causing him to involuntarily furrow his brow. He was about to say something when Olivia’s whimpering began. “Mr. Alex, I’m feeling a bit dizzy. Could you please take me to the hospital?” He then reverted to his cold demeanor. I scoffed and shook my head, turning to walk out of the restroom. Ten years of love, finally reaching its curtain call. I went straight back to Alex’s villa, pulled out my suitcase, and started packing my clothes. But as I packed, I realized that my personal belongings only filled two suitcases. Everything else—bags, jewelry—had been purchased by Olivia, reflecting her taste. Especially when I saw the men’s ring I had hidden in the corner of my dressing table. I couldn’t help but shed tears. This ring was my father’s heirloom, and I had once given it to Alex. Alex had accepted the ring at the time. Yet, I never saw him wear it. Until one day, I accidentally went to his study and saw the ring discarded in the trash can. That’s when I knew Alex and I wouldn’t last. With my belongings packed, I hauled my suitcases downstairs. As I reached the villa’s entrance, I bumped into Alex returning home. He looked at me with a slight frown. “Are you running away from home again? You just ran off two days ago and came back with your tail between your legs. Aren’t you tired of this game yet?” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. So, for those three days I was gone after my mother passed, Alex thought I was just throwing a tantrum. No wonder he didn’t call to ask about me. No wonder the sneer on Alex’s face was so evident when I returned. I looked at him calmly. “Alex, let’s break up.” Just then, the ride-share arrived. I didn’t care how clouded his expression was. I put my suitcase in the trunk and opened the car door. Before I left, Alex stopped me, his voice cold. “Eliza, if you leave this time, I won’t let you come back to me. I won’t tolerate you challenging my patience again and again.” I scoffed, looking at him. “Alex, rest assured, I, Eliza, wouldn’t come back even if it meant my death.” With that, I got into the ride-share and drove away. Watching the fleeting trees outside the window, I knew my ten-year Cinderella dream was utterly shattered.

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My boyfriend was a corporate executive’s secretary. Our greatest daily pleasure was dissecting the dramatic love-hate saga between the CEO and his “canary”—his latest trophy girlfriend. Gradually, my boyfriend’s way of referring to the “canary” changed. From “canary” to “Ms. Jane,” then simply “Lily.” The spiced sunflower seeds in my hand suddenly lost their flavor. The next day, I swiftly ordered a fluorescent green baseball cap and personally delivered it to the “Crown Prince.” “Bro, I specially picked this out for you. I’m really not implying anything.” 1. Reid was almost home. I wondered what juicy gossip I’d hear today. Just thinking about it made me happy. Reid handed me his briefcase, looking utterly drained. “Minnie,” he collapsed onto the sofa, “Mr. Thorne is getting engaged.” Whoa! The notorious playboy of the city, Aaron Thorne, who went through internet celebrities like water, was finally settling down? “To whom?!” My eyes lit up. “The ‘canary’? Or that old suitable match, Ms. Brooks?” He frowned, his tone sharp as if he’d just swallowed a firecracker. “How many times have I told you, she’s not a ‘canary.’ She has her own career, a name, a surname. She’s Lily Stevens—Lily!” I froze. Not because he yelled at me. But because—when did he change the way he addressed her? When we gossiped, we always used code names. For instance, Aaron Thorne was “Crown Prince,” and his girlfriend would be “canary,” “nightingale,” or “little fox.” This “Lily, Lily” of his—it sounded a bit intimate, didn’t it? Were they close? His words made me reflect. Gossip is inherently immoral, especially using derogatory nicknames. It was indeed inappropriate. I nodded vigorously. “You’re right. I deeply regret it and apologize to Ms. Lily Stevens.” I picked up a handful of sunflower seeds. “However, ‘Lily’ won’t do. Too easy to expose!” “It should be ‘Seven’!” He looked at me, confused. “Is there any connection?” “Lily Stevens has two names, like that boy band, like seven words in a phrase, so ‘Seven.’ Got it?” Reid rolled his eyes and said I was crazy. I chuckled. Weren’t we partners in crime precisely because we were both so chatty and loved to spin tales? “Quick, tell me, tell me,” I urged, gently shaking his arm. He abruptly pulled his hand away. “What’s there to tell? All you ever do is gossip. Why don’t you choke on it?” The air fell silent for two seconds. He never got angry with me, especially not about gossiping. Because we both agreed that gossiping was sacred. United against outsiders, never internal squabbles. He probably realized his tone was off, awkwardly adding, “I’m tired,” before heading into the bedroom. I didn’t follow. Reid was acting strangely, but I didn’t dwell on it. My inner gossip fiend was roaring. I quickly called my backup gossip partner, Reid’s subordinate and my classmate, Chloe. “Honey! Guess what? Mr. Thorne is getting engaged to Ms. Brooks!” It wasn’t Lily? “But Mr. Thorne showed his affection with 999 drones and declared his love with 9,999 Fenja roses! How could it not be her?” Mr. Thorne, also known as the “Heartbreaker of the City,” never had a girlfriend for more than three months. Yet, he had dated Lily for a full two years. Everyone thought Mr. Thorne had found true love. To my surprise, he was still going down the old path of an arranged marriage. Chloe lowered her voice, using the highest-level opening for gossip. “You absolutely, positively can’t tell anyone, I’m only telling you—” I immediately covered the phone, my heart racing. “—I heard Mr. Thorne found out Lily was cheating on him.” 2. “How is that possible!!” Chloe’s eardrums must have burst from my shout. “Right?! I didn’t believe it either!” Lily must have some serious nerve to cheat on the Crown Prince. “How did he find out she was cheating? It couldn’t just be a misunderstanding, could it?” Chloe sighed. “I don’t know, why don’t you ask your Reid? He’s the executive assistant, he’d know everything.” At that, I remembered Reid’s unusual behavior today. After hanging up, I put on my dinosaur pajamas, intending to cheer Reid up. He was showering. His phone, placed on the bedside table, chimed with notifications. I hadn’t intended to look. The trouble was, I had also set up facial recognition. And the feature was too sensitive. The screen lit up. Only one person was pinned at the top—not me. The name was “My Sweet Lily” with a heart emoji. “Lily, please don’t cry. It’s all my fault.” “I’ll keep an eye on Mr. Thorne for you. I’ll put in a good word for you.” “Lily, please don’t leave me… I truly love you.” A reply came instantly. “What about Minnie, though? Do you like her more or me?” Reid answered. “How can she compare to you? She’s just a broke freelancer who spends all her time digging into other people’s privacy for fun.” The other side sent a cute emoji. “You’re the best, Reid. Kisses.” Lily. Jane Lily. My mind went blank for a few seconds. Lily’s secret lover was my boyfriend? I instinctively reached for my phone, wanting to share this breaking news with Chloe. Then it hit me—I was the subject of the gossip! Before I could even process this twist, the bathroom door opened. Reid saw the still-glowing screen in my hand, and his face instantly drained of color. “You went through my phone?” I imagined myself throwing the phone, slapping him, exposing his secrets, breaking up on the spot—all in one swift motion. But in reality, I just meekly flipped the screen face down on the bed, forcing out a smile uglier than a cry. “I couldn’t find my phone… borrowed yours to make a call.” His expression softened slightly. He grunted, then lay down to scroll through short videos. I stared at the back of his head. The back of the head that, just days ago, had stayed up late with me, dissecting the Crown Prince’s love life, cursing Alex as inhuman while munching on sunflower seeds. The back of the head of the man I had dated for two years, believing I had finally found my soulmate in gossip. Turns out, he had long since moved to another gossip circle. I picked up my phone and dialed a number I had never initiated a call to before. It rang twice, then someone answered. “Bro,” I said, “I found a really nice hat. I’ll personally bring it to you, okay?” There was silence on the other end for two seconds. Then a lazy, playful voice replied, “What color hat?” I looked at the fluorescent green dinosaur pajamas on my bed and answered with genuine emotion: “Green. Very green. So green it glows.” 3. Reid and I met during a particularly juicy gossip event. That day, I was walking back to my dorm with a few bags of spiced sunflower seeds. Suddenly, a commotion of people appeared ahead. My radar instantly went off. That wasn’t just ordinary gawking—that was the centripetal force of a crowd, the restless gossip particles in the air, that was— That was juicy gossip! I pushed through the crowd with the speed of someone rushing for food during military training. Claiming the best vantage point in the front row. “What’s going on? I don’t get it,” someone next to me scratched their head. I glanced at the scene: a red-haired guy, face flushed, being dragged by the arm by a middle-aged woman, with a meek-looking man in glasses standing nearby, head bowed. Got it. An old, ripe scandal. I explained while munching on sunflower seeds. “The two men are roommates. This lady is the red-haired guy’s mother.” A guy beside me very naturally picked up the thread. “The mother and the glasses guy are having an affair. Their rendezvous point is the son’s bedroom.” My classmate went from wide-eyed to utterly stunned. Reid and I locked eyes. In each other’s gaze, we saw the appreciation for a fellow connoisseur. I extended my hand. “Hi, Minnie Qin, Pediatrics.” “Hi, Reid Harrison, Computer Science.” With that handshake, the medical world lost a future pediatric expert, and the internet lost a soon-to-be bald programmer. And the world of gossip, from then on, saw the rise of a formidable duo. We treated gossiping as a mandatory course. He’d write web scrapers, and I’d do the analysis. With absolute rational logical thinking. We’d dig into gossip to the very end. When a male celebrity was exposed for cheating, and the entire internet was still consuming secondhand gossip, we had already produced a complete timeline, relationship chart, and itinerary comparison. The post went up for three hours, and read count surpassed five million. The comment section was filled with: “Are you living under their bed?” “Suggest checking the IP. Reasonable suspicion it’s the person themselves.” “Such analytical skills, a shame they’re not with national security.” The account gained 300,000 followers overnight. And the account continued to update, now boasting over a million followers. Besides gossiping, we clicked on other things too. We watched shows together, complained together, cursed at clients together. Our tacit understanding was so strong, it was as if we were lovers in a past life. I thought this was how my life would be. Munching on sunflower seeds, dissecting gossip, and dating along the way. Only now did I realize. He wasn’t without a “canary” of his own. He was just raising someone else’s “canary.” 4. That night, I couldn’t sleep. I found myself hesitating when I thought about “breaking up.” My brain raced, compiling a detailed “Relationship Incident Review Report.” Was I too busy with work lately, no time to munch on sunflower seeds with him? Did I hurt his feelings when I used his precious limited-edition keyboard cover as a mat for my instant noodles last time? Did my constant requests for him to pick up takeout make his love grow cold, like those chilled braised chickens—chilling little by little? I sat on the sofa, clutching the tail of my dinosaur pajamas, seriously reflecting on myself. Then I slapped myself. Minnie Qin, are you insane? He cheated. He emotionally cheated. He pinned another woman, with a heart emoji in her contact name. What are you reflecting on here? Reflecting on whether you didn’t roll out the red carpet for this relationship? In the dead of night, my tired mind emptied. Some overlooked details, however, began to unfold one by one. He said, “Today I drove the canary home; found out she has a puppy, very cute.” He said, “Today I drove Ms. Jane home; she talked a lot about jewelry design, very interesting.” He said, “Today I drove Lily home; Mr. Thorne said hurtful things again, she cried, and I felt bad too.” What was I doing then? I was eating sunflower seeds. I kept nodding and munching, “Oh, oh, and then? What did Mr. Thorne do then?” Thinking about it now, where was the problem? The problem was Mr. Thorne. You damn well keep making your secretary drive your girlfriend home every day. Is this dating? This is group team-building. I looked at the freshly arrived package in my hand—two fluorescent green baseball caps, every stitch glowing with mocking green light. I had originally planned to give one to Mr. Thorne and keep one for myself. Now I’ve changed my mind. I’ll give both to him. 5. Aaron Thorne is my stepbrother. For certain reasons, not many people know this. We usually pretend not to know each other. But things are different now. My boyfriend cheated with his girlfriend. This mess, who else would I go to but him? He chose the restaurant. Three hundred eighty dollars per person, a bottle of sparkling water priced at $999. I held the bubbling liquid in my hand and whispered, “The evil capitalist.” As soon as the words left my lips, a wave of Dior Sauvage hit me. I looked up. Aaron sat opposite me, clad in a custom black overcoat, his hair meticulously gelled into place. He glanced at me, a standard, irritating smirk playing on his lips. “Long time no see.” He paused. “You look as disheveled as ever.” I looked down at myself—a pilling hoodie, faded jeans, a ten-dollar canvas bag. He was right. But I wouldn’t admit it. “How heartbreaking,” he added. There wasn’t an ounce of sympathy in his tone. Aaron had always been like a peacock since childhood. Constantly displaying his plumage. The difference was, others displayed theirs to attract a mate, he displayed his to provoke a beating. I couldn’t be bothered with pleasantries. “My boyfriend seems to have cheated on me.” He raised an eyebrow, and a spark of schadenfreude instantly ignited in his eyes. “Well, congratulations then.” “The other woman is Lily Stevens.” His smirk dropped faster than the stock market. I pulled something out and slowly slid it across the table. A fluorescent green baseball cap. The threads were still visible, boldly, shamelessly green. “Try it on,” I said. “I think it suits you.” Aaron slammed the hat on the floor with a “smack”. “Are you insane?” I crossed my arms. “If you hadn’t kept sending Reid to drive Lily home every day, would he have cheated?” “Don’t you, a CEO, have a driver? Do you have to use your secretary to chauffeur your girlfriend? Can’t you afford a designated driver or a taxi?” “Anyway, it’s all your fault.” I paused, adopting a negotiating stance: “What do you plan to do about it?” Aaron stared at me, as if looking at a case file that had escaped from a mental institution. He opened his mouth, his eyes half-rolled— “Mr. Thorne, don’t listen to her nonsense!” A woman’s voice cut in from the side. “Reid and I really have nothing going on!” I turned my head. Lily stood about ten feet away, her eyes slightly red, looking utterly pitiful. Reid stood beside her. He was carrying her bag. Hermès. Limited edition. My anniversary gift to him was a Logitech keyboard. He was carrying a Hermès for someone else. I suddenly felt that green hat— Was given to the wrong person. 6. Tears clung to Lily’s eyelashes, rolling down one by one. The tears fell with practiced precision, just enough to teeter on the verge of spilling, making her appear both wronged and strong. She looked at me, her voice as soft as bloomed silver ear mushrooms. “Minnie, have you misunderstood something about me? Can we please clear things up today?” “Reid and I are truly just friends. Please don’t ruin my relationship with Mr. Thorne, okay?” After speaking, she began to sob again. Her shoulders trembled. Like a pear blossom in the spring breeze. Next to the pear blossom stood Reid. Holding her Hermès bag, his face filled with concern. Before I could even speak. The table next to us erupted. “Oh my god, isn’t that Mr. Thorne’s girl? Who in the city doesn’t know Lily is the Crown Prince’s darling?” “Who’s this woman? She looks like that and dares to try and steal him?” “Exactly, exactly! Are mistresses so shameless these days? Publicly confronting the rightful partner?” “Look at her, she must be ten years older than Lily, right? How could Mr. Thorne possibly be interested in her?” I froze. Ten years older? Me? I pulled out my phone, opened the front camera, and scrutinized my reflection. This was a face worn out for the future of our nation’s children! The glorious mark of the pediatric emergency room at 3 AM! …Alright, I admit I was triggered. I glanced at Aaron out of the corner of my eye. He was stifling a laugh, enjoying the show. Then I looked at Reid. He was looking down at Lily, his brow furrowed, his eyes so soft they could melt. As if he longed to wipe away her tears himself. He didn’t even spare me a glance. 7. So this is what it feels like to be the subject of gossip. As a grandmistress in the art of gossip, I knew gossipmongers too well. These people are like weather vanes, turning wherever the wind blows. They don’t care about the truth; they only care if there’s new material today. Since you want gossip— Then I’ll serve you a hearty dish. I slowly shuffled over to Aaron. Then, I gently placed my hand on my stomach. “I’m sorry, older sister.” I lowered my head, my voice carrying three parts shyness, three parts guilt, and three parts reckless abandon— “Actually, I’m pregnant with Mr. Thorne’s child.” The surroundings fell silent. It was no different from the atmosphere of a morgue. The Australian wagyu steak I had just eaten in my stomach appropriately squirmed. I looked up, a look of surprise on my face: “Oh, the baby moved! He must have sensed his father is here, so happy!” Thump. Someone at the next table dropped their fork. Someone at the table next to that spilled their coffee. I heard someone gasp, someone else forgot to put away their phone, the camera still on. Lily’s face instantly went white. Not a pear blossom white, but a drywall white. “Impossible…” Her voice trembled. “You, weren’t you Reid’s girlfriend? How could you be pregnant with Mr. Thorne’s child?” Reid finally looked at me. He grabbed my wrist, his grip so tight it hurt. “Stop messing around, Minnie.” He lowered his voice, thinking I was going crazy. “I know you’re jealous. Let’s go home first, we can talk there.” I ignored him. I turned my head, gazing at Aaron with feigned affection. I even managed to squeeze out a tear from the corner of my eye. Aaron met my gaze. His expression was complicated. Like he’d swallowed a whole lemon, or accidentally eaten expired yogurt. Then, he slowly conjured an incredibly fake smile. “Yes,” he said. “It’s mine.” The entire room fell silent. 8. Mount Fuji erupted. “Holy cow, holy cow, holy cow, this isn’t the mistress, this is the main wife!!” “Wait, did I hear that right? The main wife is Reid’s girlfriend?! Mr. Thorne is really playing the field, stealing his subordinate’s partner?” “Drama of the year! I witnessed it firsthand! I’m going to submit this! I’m sending it to ‘Gossip King’! Let a million netizens feast their eyes!” My smile froze. It felt like I’d lifted a rock only to drop it on my own foot. Subtle, too subtle. Lily could no longer maintain her composure. That perpetually gentle face now resembled wet tissue paper. She stepped forward, almost kneeling. “Mr. Thorne… no… I, Reid and I truly have nothing going on…” Her voice trembled badly, and the tears on her eyelashes finally fell, smudging her face. Aaron didn’t look at her. He put his arm around my shoulder and walked through the crowd. Like an emperor on parade. Like a peacock displaying its feathers. Like he was acting in some CEO romance novel but had picked up the wrong script. Reid chased after us for two steps. “Minnie—” He called my name. I turned back. “When did you… and him…” He choked, as if afraid to continue. “Why would you do this to me?” I looked at him. Looking at the Hermès scarf still clutched in his hand. Looking at his familiar face, the one I had once munched on sunflower seeds with, laughing and cursing countless other faces. I wanted to say: Why? Because you were the dog first. But I didn’t speak. Aaron had already ushered me into the backseat. The car door closed, and the world fell silent. He got into the driver’s seat and looked at me through the rearview mirror. “It’s been twelve years since I’ve been back,” he said. His tone was unusually serious. I turned to look out the window. The road to the Thorne family’s old estate was lined with plane trees. When I was seven, my mother brought me here after she married into the family. I sat in the backseat, just like this, peering out the window. Aaron was fourteen then, standing at the door, like a peacock forced into service. Later, after my mother died, I never came back. Twelve years had passed in a blink. 9. The room was still the same. The curtains were the pale yellow my mother had chosen, and a thin layer of dust covered the bookshelf. Aaron came in with a duvet and didn’t let me help. I sat on the bay window, watching him bend over to tuck the four corners of the duvet into its cover. “How did you find out Lily was cheating?” He didn’t stop his movements. “Saw it with my own eyes.” “Well, congratulations then.” I was sincere. “It wasn’t Reid.” … I was silent for three seconds. Lily, a role model for our generation. Daring to cheat on the Crown Prince, and also two-timing— “How many others?” I asked. “Didn’t count.” He was expressionless. I couldn’t help but be curious. “Then why aren’t you sad at all? She was with you for two years, at least.” Aaron didn’t answer. He stuffed a pillow into its case and patted it hard twice. Slap, slap, slap. I felt my face sting a little. He finally looked up and met my gaze. “You, on the other hand, seem quite happy.” I lowered my eyes. In my hand, I fiddled with a strawberry, bright red and sickly sweet. I took a bite. The sweetest part of the fruit, yet as I chewed, I tasted saltiness. Four years. How could I not be sad? I just didn’t dare to stop and think. Afraid that if I did, I wouldn’t be able to stand. Past midnight. Thunder began to rumble outside the window. A deep, dull roar, like someone pushing a giant boulder across the sky. It had been a long time since I slept alone. Thunderstorm night. These three words were like a curse, instantly pulling me back to that dusk ten years ago. Roses. Blood. My mother collapsed in the flowerbed, her hand reaching towards the sky, her lips moving. I couldn’t hear what she was saying. I only remembered that patch of red—indistinguishable between petals and blood. She said, Minnie. She said, come be with Mama. Boom— Another clap of thunder. I curled into a ball, my back drenched in cold sweat. My pajamas clung to my skin, cold as if just pulled from water. Reid. That thought was like a drowning person grasping at driftwood. Every time it happened, he would hold me tight, embracing me firmly, repeating over and over. “Minnie, I’m here.” “Minnie, don’t be afraid.” He’d scour the entire internet for gossip, from celebrity scandals to a neighbor’s lost dog, telling me every single story until dawn. Until I stopped shaking. Until I could breathe again. Tonight, there was no one. And in the future, there would be no one either. My heart felt clutched by an invisible hand, squeezed tighter and tighter. I gasped, but no oxygen seemed to enter my lungs. Boom— The door crashed open with a bang.

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Five years into our marriage, my wife’s assistant, Evan, posted a screenshot on social media of a transfer of 521,314 dollars. The caption read: “Having a CEO big sister like this makes work so sweet!” I had just commented, “Work hard,” when I realized my account had been blocked by him. My wife called, launching into a furious tirade. “I just advanced an employee a bonus for his birthday, why would you message him and yell at him? My leniency isn’t a license for your unreasonable behavior!” Through the phone, I clearly heard the entire company comforting Evan and his feigned strong sigh. Before I could explain, the call was cut off and I was blocked. Immediately after, the assistant ostentatiously posted another photo of a million-dollar transfer. I knew that was Willow’s compensation to him. But this time, I didn’t care anymore. 1. When Willow stepped through the door, I had just tossed out the empty container of cheap takeout. After the removal of a malignant tumor in my stomach, the doctor said I needed to eat bland food this month, but I hadn’t listened to the advice. Simply because it was our fifth wedding anniversary, I had checked out of the hospital early to come home. I had even booked a hotel, intending to have a candlelight dinner with her. I had waited all day for her to reply to my messages. If I hadn’t seen Evan’s social media post and received that phone call just before leaving, I would probably still be sitting in the hotel like an idiot. Willow glanced at the empty dining table as she entered, her brows furrowing with displeasure. “Not cooking tonight?” I nodded calmly, my fingers scrolling on my phone screen. “You already ate out.” In the past, no matter how busy I was with work, I would always come home early to prepare dinner for her. If her brow so much as creased, I felt like the sky was falling. A humble posture inevitably fails to win equal love, a truth I unfortunately only understood now. Willow didn’t even notice my unusual behavior. She walked directly up to me and opened the packaged cake in her hand. “I specifically brought this for you. It’s almost our anniversary, right? You don’t even like sweets, so this is just a gesture.” Soon, a cake that had clearly been picked over appeared before me. Its indentations and small holes showed where several pieces of fruit had once been, now scooped out. She never knew that I disliked sweets. Yet, I cherished the small cakes for each of our anniversaries, because they symbolized our happiness. The cakes she would taste and then declare unfit to eat for the past few years had all ended up in my stomach. But this time, I merely glanced at it before my attention returned to my phone. She was surprised by my cold attitude, and her brows furrowed impatiently. “Chris, what is your problem? I went all that way to bring this back for you, and now you’re starting another fuss? Is this never going to end?” “I don’t want things others have touched. I find them dirty.” As I spoke, her phone chimed with a message notification. Willow looked down, a barely perceptible smile playing on her lips. I didn’t need to guess who the message was from. When she looked up, her expression was cold, yet her eyes held a hint of delight. “Fine, fine, I’ll go buy you a new one, okay? You don’t even like sweets, what’s there to be picky about? I’m so busy with work, and I come home to your cold face. I must owe you something!” With that, she turned to leave the house. I remembered I had been too hasty checking out of the hospital today and hadn’t picked up my medication yet. So I also stood up to change my shoes and followed her out. Meeting Willow’s subtly irritated gaze, I said in a low voice: “You go buy things, drop me off at the pharmacy along the way. I need to pick up some medicine.” At this, she bristled like a porcupine, instantly becoming wary. “You’re following me to buy a cake? Are you sick? Why don’t you just tie a leash around my neck?” I understood her annoyance. In the past, whenever she went out at night, I would always ask endless questions, uneasy. But this time, she was really overthinking it. I sighed and explained, “There’s a pharmacy just a block from the apartment. You can just drop me off there; I have no interest in stalking you.” As soon as I got in the car, I saw her hastily ordering a blueberry cake online. Perhaps she had forgotten that, initially, she was the one who loved rituals, saying every anniversary needed cake and candles. I fulfilled her requests every year, but in the end, it became a burden for her. At the pharmacy entrance, I got out directly. Behind me, her eyes showed a hint of surprise. When she spoke, her earlier rage was gone. “Wait for me here after you’re done, I’ll pick you up.” As she finished speaking, her car sped past me, splashing mud on my legs. I irritably wiped it off twice and walked into the pharmacy. After buying my medicine, I waited outside for two hours. My body gradually stiffened, but I didn’t see a trace of her. A sudden clap of thunder in the night sky startled me awake. Before I could even hail a taxi, a downpour drenched me completely. Remembering the doctor’s warnings, the incision in my abdomen throbbed faintly. I quickened my pace, running into a convenience store to buy an umbrella. But it was still too late. A cramping pain in my stomach made me involuntarily crouch on the ground, utterly pathetic. If not for a passing car spotting me and kindly taking me back to the apartment, I would probably have ended up in an ambulance. Back home, I had just dried myself and disinfected the incision. After taking my medicine, Willow slammed the door shut, making a deafening sound. “Why didn’t you tell me you were back? Do you know how many times I circled in the downpour? I looked for you for a whole hour! Is it fun to mess with me?” 2. The movement of me putting down my water glass halted. My face was utterly perplexed. She had blocked my number; now she was blaming me for not contacting her? I had waited two hours, and I had just gotten home, yet she claimed to have looked for me for an hour? I couldn’t be bothered to expose her lie. My face darkened, and I said coldly, “For me to contact you, you’d have to unblock me first.” At that, she pressed her lips together, taking a deep breath to quell her anger. She walked into the living room and placed the cake, soaked by the rain and stripped of its packaging, in front of me. “It’s too late; they didn’t have any packaging left. I had to go to quite a few shops to find this.” My gaze fell upon the matcha cake, and I felt only exhaustion from her string of clumsy lies. Forget it, I don’t even like sweets anyway. Stripped of its meaning, the cake’s cloying sweetness was nauseating. On my phone screen was Evan’s latest social media post, a photo of a blueberry cake. The caption read: “I don’t like sweets, but I like sweet you.” I felt a sarcastic laugh bubble up, but I had no strength to pull back my lips. A mouthful of words reached my tongue, only to be reduced to: “Hmm, thanks for the trouble. Throw it away.” Her features abruptly contorted, her eyes red with rage. “Are you sick?! I ran all over the place for you, and you tell me to throw it away?” “Are you playing me like a dog? Is this because I advanced an employee’s salary today? How long are you going to keep this up? I’m the boss, don’t I have that right? I haven’t even settled the score with you for privately messaging him and yelling at him, and now you’re getting all high and mighty!” I reached up and pressed my throbbing head, dulled and aching from the rain. I spoke weakly, “You’re overthinking it. I truly didn’t mean that, nor was there any need, nor did I have the time. At that moment, I was—” Mid-sentence, she interrupted furiously: “Enough! Stop talking! You’re always like this. I’ve never seen a man so jealous. Can’t you spend this time focusing on your career? Your heart is as small as a needle’s eye, it’s disgusting! Marrying you was the biggest mistake of my life!” In the past, I had countless arguments with her over such trivial matters. Humble and desperate, I longed to hear her say she would only love me. But now, I no longer thought that way. We were both adults; if love needed constant questioning, did it still have a purpose? I knew she wouldn’t believe me if I said I wasn’t making a fuss, so I simply said, “If that’s what you want to believe, there’s nothing I can do.” This was the first time in five years that I chose to deal with things coldly. With that, I stood up and walked directly towards the bedroom. She ignored me, throwing the cake on the table into the trash can before sitting down to scroll on her phone. From time to time, stifled laughter escaped her. Then she went to the bathroom, seemingly busy on the phone. I rearranged a set of bedding and moved it to the second bedroom, bumping directly into Willow as she emerged from the bathroom. Her impatient gaze fell on my hands, her lips tightly pressed. After enduring for a while, she finally said angrily, “What do you mean? You want to sleep in separate beds?” “I haven’t even complained about you looking greasy in middle age, what are you fussing about with me? Do you still think you’re Chris Zhang, the campus heartthrob from your early twenties? There are tons of young, fresh faces out there!” “If you can’t sleep, don’t send me messages!” I didn’t reply to her, walking into the second bedroom on my own. The act of moving the bedding pulled at my surgical wound, twisting my face in pain. Every night in the past, when she didn’t come home, I would toss and turn, unable to sleep. I’d call her, send her messages, only for her to slam a bottle of sleeping pills in front of me the next day. Later, I got used to taking medication to sleep. But I never expected that this time, fearing drug interactions might affect wound recovery, I would fall asleep naturally and soundly. What I once thought was insurmountable now seemed not so difficult when I looked back. After searching all day, I finally contacted a reliable divorce lawyer. Meanwhile, Willow’s company account posted a celebration video. In the video, someone raised a champagne bottle. As the liquid sprayed into the air, Willow was firmly shielded behind Evan, the man’s back soaked. Evan’s jacket looked remarkably familiar; upon closer inspection, I realized it was a gift she had given me last year for our wedding anniversary. Now, the gift no longer belonged to me, and neither did she. 3. Just as I was about to turn off my phone, Willow called. “I sent you the address. I’ll pick you up in a bit; there’s a surprise.” A sarcastic smile played on my lips; she had given me enough surprises already. Before I could refuse, she hung up. I didn’t expect to be unblocked by her before the divorce. While I took some medicine and disinfected my wound, Willow’s car had already pulled up downstairs. I received her message and went out wearing casual sportswear. Willow’s smiling gaze unexpectedly fell on my unshaven face, and instantly turned cold. “Aren’t you going to clean yourself up or change clothes? Are you deliberately trying to embarrass me? Look in the mirror, what’s the difference between you and a homeless man right now?” As she spoke, Evan in the passenger seat, wearing the suit Willow had once custom-made for me, rolled down the window. A youthful, flamboyant face appeared. “I’m so sorry, Ms. Willow, I forgot to inform Chris… I couldn’t reach him.” Remembering my blocked account, I smiled nonchalantly. “It’s fine. Given our relationship, I don’t think my appearance affects you anymore.” “Besides, having such a young and handsome assistant is proof enough of your capabilities.” Willow’s scolding words were choked back in her throat. I glanced at Evan in the passenger seat. Seeing no intention of him moving, I simply got into the back. Along the way, Evan enthusiastically chatted with me, constantly talking about the birthday celebration the company employees held for him. His tone was full of regret. “Chris, if only you had been there, I really wanted you to see how much Ms. Willow dotes on her employees! I’m so envious of you!” Willow’s face was grim. She tried to speak to me several times, but I simply ignored her. At the hotel, Evan got out of the car and walked directly to Willow’s side. I glanced at them, then followed behind. The waitstaff all assumed they were a couple. Willow started to explain, then her gaze fell on my weary face behind her, and she ultimately remained silent. Her expression was comically amusing. The company employees were all crowded at the elevator entrance, waiting. When the elevator doors opened, seeing Willow and Evan standing in front, everyone’s expressions froze. A hint of awkwardness flashed across their faces. Old Mr. Wang, a company shareholder and my close college friend, quickly spoke up when he saw the situation: “Mr. Zhang, you’re finally here! If it weren’t for you brokering this project, it wouldn’t have been signed! Today, our entire company owes you a big thank you!” I knew he was trying to save face for me. So I smiled gratefully, “What ‘Mr. So-and-so’? Who knows what position I’ll be in when I come back from overseas.” At that, Willow, who had been walking ahead, suddenly stopped. She turned, her brows furrowed, her gaze full of questions. “Overseas? You’re going abroad? How come I don’t know? When did I agree to this?”

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One minute after my childhood sweetheart broke up with me, he publicly announced his relationship with a student from a low-income background on social media. He claimed that Eleanor suffered from depression, and once he helped her become as bright as I was, he would reconcile with me. Eleanor used his phone to assert her dominance: “Thanks for taking care of my boyfriend before. We need to keep our distance from now on.” I scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping me. It took me only thirty seconds to get my mom to cut off her financial support. 1 My mom informed the school she would be discontinuing Eleanor’s scholarship. She immediately notified Adam’s father. The engagement between our families was off. At the same time, Eleanor’s best friend sent me a video of Adam and Eleanor getting intimate. In the video, Adam, visibly tipsy, was kissing a flushed Eleanor, his arm around her. Someone nearby, enjoying the spectacle, called out: “Adam, aren’t you worried about Alice getting upset?” Adam cupped Eleanor’s face, licking her lips with an undeniable desire. “Nah, she’s easy to appease.” “We grew up together; I know her inside and out.” “She’s also just… so inconsiderate, always coming first, costing Eleanor her scholarship. I’m just teaching her a lesson.” I let out a cold laugh. So that’s what he really thought of me. Adam continued: “Besides, I’m bored. Goody-two-shoes, so old-fashioned, wouldn’t even let me hold her hand. It’s honestly so dull.” “The thought of getting engaged to her after graduation, being tied down, makes me sick to my stomach.” Adam made a disgusted face. Eleanor quickly snuggled against his chest. “I’m not like her. You can touch me anywhere, but only you, darling.” Adam burst into laughter, tightening his arm around Eleanor’s waist. “I like a girl with some spice, like Eleanor.” “As for Alice, whoever wants her can have her. I certainly don’t!” I could barely suppress the nausea churning in my gut. Then, from the video, a lazy voice spoke up. “Well, in that case, I’m going to pursue her.” It was Jerry Voss. Our class president, who had always shared the top spot with me. 2 Adam’s face instantly darkened. Eleanor blinked her eyes, tugging his hand. Adam let out a strange, dismissive snort. “Go ahead, but she’s been in love with me for over ten years, been desperate for me countless times. I’m utterly sick of it.” “She’s a loyal woman, guarding her purity for me.” Jerry Voss chuckled noncommittally. He picked up his school jacket, revealing a clean, long hand with an expensive watch on his wrist. “I’m leaving.” His gaze swept over Adam and Eleanor, who were tightly embracing, with a hint of disdain. “Adam, remember what you just said. Don’t regret it later.” “I won’t back down.” Adam’s face was grim, the desire that Eleanor had stirred in his eyes now completely gone. “I’ve said it before, Alice loves me to death. I just have to snap my fingers, and she’ll come crawling back.” Eleanor’s eyes instantly welled up, and Adam quickly added, “But, I’m happy to let you have a go. She’s just a lapdog, and I have plenty of those.” At this, his friends roared with laughter. “Adam’s not wrong, Alice is totally a lapdog.” “Which game did she not excitedly bring a case of water to? Which party did she not rush to pay for?” “The more girls are like that, the cheaper they are.” The video ended there, showing only a faint shadow of Jerry Voss raising his foot towards Adam. 3 Lost in thought, my phone vibrated. It was a message from Eleanor’s best friend. [Feeling very sad and angry, aren’t you? I advise you to give up on Adam as soon as possible. For a lapdog like you, men will only find you cheap.] [Jerry Voss seems to like you quite a bit. You two are both bookworms, quite a good match.] I suspected Eleanor herself had sent this from her best friend’s phone. She often did things like that. She used to send me messages from Adam’s phone. Sometimes, she’d deliberately send ambiguous messages to make Adam and I argue, then feign illness so Adam would go comfort her. But now, none of that mattered to me. I’m very open to advice. A man who’s been soiled, might as well be thrown away. I also thought Jerry and I were a perfect match, both in intelligence and family background. [Why aren’t you replying, Alice? Are you mad to death? (Hand over mouth emoji)] Uh, not really. I was pretty angry at first. I mean, extremely angry. Because my family is old money, really old money. I don’t have autonomy in dating. I can only choose a future spouse from families of equal standing. But I’m not particularly stunning in appearance. Especially compared to other daughters from similar backgrounds. Honestly, the competition is brutal. Adam was one of the better-looking ones among my choices. But! Compared to Jerry Voss. There was absolutely no comparison. Jerry Voss was taller, handsomer, and smarter than him. He was a triple threat. With a better option now, what did I have to be sad about? Sadness only comes from not getting the best! 4 After showing my mom the video Eleanor’s best friend sent me, my mom was furious, wanting to confront Adam’s family, but I stopped her. I pointed at Jerry Voss in the video, my eyes sparkling. “I like him.” My mom was silent for a moment, looking at my unremarkable features behind my thick-rimmed glasses. “He’s too… captivating. While his family matches, you—” I raised my hands in surrender, asserting indignantly. “A toad that doesn’t want to eat swan is not a good toad!” “But on the other hand, he’s still young, hasn’t seen the world yet. This is your chance.” My mom patted my shoulder. “To improve the next generation’s genes, you have to work hard.” “All your mom can do is improve our family status.” I recalled my dad’s somewhat plain face. Silence… 5 I stayed up all night, memorizing everything I’d paid a high price to find out about Jerry Voss. For a straight-A student like me, being able to recite it backwards after two reads was basic. The next morning, for the first time, I didn’t wait for Adam to go to school together. Through the security camera, I saw Adam frowning, waiting outside my front door. Impatiently, he spoke into the video doorbell. “Alice, you have three minutes. If you’re not ready, don’t bother coming out.” Speechless. I ignored him. Now that the engagement between our families was off, my housekeeper and the maids didn’t have much patience for him either. “Alice has already left.” Adam’s face instantly darkened. He threw the breakfast he had brought for Eleanor onto the ground. The milk bottle smashed with a thunk, spilling milk everywhere. Why didn’t I think it was for me? Because he never brought me anything; I always brought things to him. Our maid was furious. “I just swept this floor, what’s wrong with you?!” “How dare you speak to me like that? Believe it or not, I’ll have Alice fire you!” The maid rolled her eyes. “Your engagement is off, and the collaboration between the Summer and Evans families has ended. You should leave.” “This is just Alice throwing a tantrum. I’ll smooth things over, and our engagement will never be called off.” Adam walked away with a dark expression. Adam and I were desk partners. When I arrived at school, Eleanor was sitting in my seat. My books were all placed on the teacher’s desk. She smiled at me. “Alice, I want to sit with Adam. We’re in the honeymoon phase right now.” “Didn’t godmother say to let me have my way a bit? Please, sister, grant Adam and me our private world.” “You don’t want people to call you a third wheel, do you?” It seemed she didn’t know yet that my mom had stopped funding her. I had originally intended to lose my temper and yell at her. But then I caught a glimpse of Jerry Voss behind me. The seat next to him had been empty for years. Instantly, I became a drama queen. Showtime! 6 My eyes were red-rimmed, and I stood there in a daze, not knowing what to do. Jerry Voss walked in, picked up my books from the teacher’s desk, and told me, “Alice, come here.” I followed behind him, watching as he placed my books next to him. My heart instantly fluttered. Manga plot come to life. So thrilling… I shouldn’t have watched so much anime. It’s making my brain a little scrambled… I suppressed my shyness and said, choked with emotion, “Class President, thank you.” “I didn’t eat breakfast. If you really want to thank me, bring me some breakfast when you go get yours.” “I stayed up all night doing practice tests, so I’m really sleepy now and want to catch some Z’s.” Huh??? So he’s not the shy type, but the jealous type. He must have seen that I used to go get breakfast every morning and bring some back for Adam, and now he wants that too. I nodded repeatedly. “Okay, okay!” I’ll definitely spread my favors equally. No! Given that he’s more than a little better looking than Adam. I’ll definitely favor him more. It wasn’t until I got to the breakfast spot that I realized I hadn’t asked Jerry what he wanted. I found his contact information in the class group chat and added him. I wrote in the note: [Class President, what would you like to eat?] Then, while slurping my noodles, I waited for him to accept my request. I’m a genius. This was truly an excellent and not at all awkward reason to get his contact information. Jerry Voss quickly accepted my friend request and replied. I looked at his message, a little puzzled. Why were all his choices things Adam disliked? And each one was precisely a “landmine” for Adam. Things Adam had repeatedly warned me not to buy for him, and even forbade me from eating. Though I never listened to him, always indulging myself. On my way back after buying Jerry’s breakfast, I ran into Adam’s best friend, the one who had mocked me as a lapdog in the video. He was overly enthusiastic, greeting me with a big grin. “Hey, Alice, is that for Adam?” He pulled out his phone, quickly took a picture, and sent it to Adam’s group chat. I didn’t need to imagine how they would mock me. But I had no intention of stopping him. I desperately needed these cannon fodder to act as a catalyst, igniting Jerry Voss’s protective instincts and making him take the initiative with me. I gave the cannon fodder a smile in return and walked on. At the classroom door, Adam was already there, chatting and laughing with Eleanor in his seat. He seemed to be in a very good mood. A completely different person from when he walked out of my house, as seen on the security footage. He saw me, leaned back in his chair, and smirked at me idly. “You bought it back. I’m hungry too.” Jerry Voss, who had been napping at his desk, also sat up. His seat was diagonally behind Adam’s. I bit my lip, deliberately avoiding Adam’s gaze, and walked silently with my head down. As I passed Adam, he reached out to take the breakfast from my hand. I suddenly quickened my pace, went and sat down next to Jerry Voss. I placed the breakfast on his desk, and even pulled out a warm carton of milk from my pocket. “Eat it while it’s hot. I really like these too.” “Our tastes are surprisingly similar, Class President.” Jerry Voss smiled, while Adam froze, the smile on his lips stiffening. His fair-weather friends, who had been watching the show, also looked rigid. “Alice, that’s not for Adam, is it?” I said softly but firmly. “He has a girlfriend. Why would I bring him anything? And our engagement is off; we cut ties a long time ago.” This was an elite private school. Aside from those sent abroad by their families, all the heirs and heiresses from our social circles attended this school. Some were low-key about their status, others high-profile. But the impending marriage alliance between the Summer and Evans families was widely known. As my words fell, I noticed Jerry Voss’s lips curving into a pleased smile in my peripheral vision. Adam, however, looked terrifyingly pale. He glared at me coldly. “Alice, don’t you dare regret this.” “I, Adam Evans, don’t take back dogs who betray their masters. Even if you come begging, we’re over.” I snapped back. “You’re the dog, a dog in heat chasing after everyone.”

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After I accidentally discovered my brother reading my diary. I was both furious and speechless. In retaliation, I wrote him into my diary: “I’m a bad girl. How can I have those kinds of feelings for my own brother?” “They say brotherly love is a sickness, it’s not right, I shouldn’t be like this.” “But I really can’t control myself…” From that day on, my brother looked at me like he’d seen a ghost every time he saw me. I suppressed my laughter and, with increasing fervor, wrote things in my diary to scare him. Completely oblivious to how my brother’s gaze, from avoiding me in panic, had slowly morphed into a look of tormented suppression. Until a month later. An old money couple showed up with a paternity test, and without a word, they embraced my brother, calling him their son. Me: ? 1 As far back as I can remember, my brother, Asher, has always been by my side. He was the first person I called after I learned to speak. Dad said I called him “brother” so skillfully, it was as if I was born knowing how to. At my one-month celebration, so many hands reached out to hold me, but I reached past everyone and clung tightly to his finger. And as an older brother, Asher never disappointed. When I was six, I was rushed to the hospital after secretly drinking a bottle of orange-flavored dish soap. Asher stayed by my bedside for two days and two nights, refusing to eat or drink, looking like a ghost. When I was eight, I tried to ride our neighbor, an old lady, across the street, and Dad chased me with a stick. Asher protected me like a mother hen, taking the hits from Dad without backing down. When I was ten, on my birthday, I solemnly made a wish: “I want to be with my brother forever.” Asher watched me, shielding the candle flame with his hand. I slowly looked up, unable to see his face clearly, but I heard him say, word by word: “Little sister, you don’t need to wish for that.” When I was fourteen, Asher watched a TV show where a couple stole their family register to get married, and he frowned, asking Dad: “Why did they steal the family register?” Dad smiled and explained: “Because they want to get married.” “Marriage means putting two people’s names on the same family register.” Asher was nearly six feet tall by then. With handsome features and a tall, straight build, he was the target of many girls’ secret glances at school. After hearing Dad’s explanation, he realized: “Oh, I see.” “Then my sister and I should just get married.” “We’ve been on the same family register since we were little.” Dad nearly dropped his teacup. He grabbed the feather duster nearby and swung it at Asher. Asher dodged, turning his head to earnestly ask me: “Little sister, do you think what I said is wrong?” Without thinking, I nodded directly: “Of course, what brother said is right.” Dad paused, then silently swapped the feather duster for a shovel, chasing him even more fiercely. 2 In the blink of an eye, Asher and I had been inseparable, leaning on each other, as siblings for over twenty years. Last weekend, Asher forbade me from attending a male classmate’s birthday party, and we had a huge fight. He couldn’t argue with me, and in his frustration, he actually recited a passage from my diary. That’s when I realized he had been secretly reading my diary all along. Furious, I kicked him hard and stormed upstairs. Although I also secretly read Asher’s diary every day, I never read it out loud to him! I always laughed to myself in secret. Who’s as shameless as him?! That utterly shameless jerk! The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. To get back at Asher, I specifically went out and bought a new diary with a lock. After half a month of aimlessly jotting down daily occurrences, I started writing furiously: “I’m a bad girl. How can I have those kinds of feelings for my own brother?” “They say brotherly love is a sickness, it’s not right, I shouldn’t be like this.” “But I really can’t control myself. The internet is right, our red thread is hidden…” … I switched to a red pen and drew a crooked heart where the period should be. Asher certainly didn’t disappoint me. The next day, when he brought fruit into my room, his eyes immediately landed on the diary I had deliberately left open on the desk. Perhaps he remembered the kick I gave him a few days ago for reading my diary. Perhaps his conscience finally struck, and he thought an older brother shouldn’t invade his younger sister’s privacy. In any case, he paused for five seconds. But only for five seconds. His slender fingers skillfully flipped open the thin pages. His face still wore that casually lazy expression, his lips even curled in a mischievous “what’s wrong with just one look?” But after reading just two lines, Asher’s upturned lips sharply dropped. His fingers, clutching the diary, trembled faintly, his temples throbbed, and his vision swam. Finally, he stumbled two steps and collapsed heavily into a chair, clearly scared half to death by the diary’s contents. And I, hiding by the door, watched his world-shattering reaction, covering my mouth and laughing so hard I couldn’t stand straight. Heh heh. That’ll teach him to read my diary. He deserved it. 3 Asher practically fled my room. At nearly six feet three, he used his hands and feet, running as if tumbling and crawling. He didn’t even see me hiding by the door, observing him. He simply transformed into a stubborn fish, diving headfirst into the bathroom, splashing water on his face. I waited until the sound of running water in the bathroom stopped. Only then did I walk over and ask: “Brother, what’s wrong?” The sounds inside abruptly ceased. After a long moment, Asher’s unsteady voice finally replied: “Nothing…” I said, “Oh.” “Then I’ll go back to my room.” “Wait!” The door was abruptly pulled open. Asher stood at the doorway, still dripping water from his face, staring at me with a complicated expression, wanting to speak but holding back: “Willow, are you… do you have someone you like recently?” I feigned confusion, frowning: “No, I’m busy looking for an internship lately. I don’t have time to think about romance.” Asher fell silent. He looked me over gravely, and only after confirming I truly wasn’t lying, did he breathe a sigh of relief, as if escaping a disaster, and wiped the water from his face. Right. The “brother” written in the diary might not necessarily be him; it could be some male celebrity. No problem, no problem, the sky hasn’t fallen, the home hasn’t been destroyed, sister is still sister. I subtly pursed my lips: “Brother, if you’re all right, I’ll go back to my room now.” With that, I turned around. I pulled a manga book from my backpack and casually dropped it on the floor. A loud thud echoed in the empty room. Asher instinctively looked towards the sound. On the title page, several glaring big words— “Sister Becomes Wife.” “…” Asher’s breathing abruptly stopped. Then, trembling, he pressed his finger to his philtrum. 4 Before I could react, the manga book was snatched from me by Asher. His captivating eyes widened, and his voice trembled slightly: “Willow! You, you, you, if you dare buy such trashy books again, I’ll tell Mom!” I obediently lowered my head: “Got it, brother.” Asher hummed, expressionless. Then turned. And scrambled upstairs, using both hands and feet. On the surface, I calmly watched him leave. But inside, I was practically cackling with laughter. To confirm once again that I hadn’t misjudged, I figured Asher would definitely sneak into my room tonight to read my diary again. I pulled out my phone. I found a bunch of sentences and copied them into my diary: “My brother, who raised me, suddenly stopped talking to me. Is he tired of me? Is he going to leave me?” “What should I do, how can I keep him forever?” “One hundred and eight plans to trap my brother by my side for life…” I closed the diary. I stretched. Went downstairs to heat some milk. When I returned, I immediately noticed a subtle shift in the diary’s position, and a partial footprint on the carpet. I took a contented sip of milk, then snuggled comfortably into bed. Half asleep, half awake, the deadly silent room next door, which had been quiet for most of the night, suddenly erupted in a heart-wrenching wail and a sound like a donkey’s braying cry: “Dad! Mom! I’m a beast!! Ahhh-woo-woo-moo-moo-moo…” 5 The next morning, I ran into Asher on the stairs. My mind wasn’t fully awake yet. My habitual greeting was: “Bro, morning.” Asher’s thin lips pressed together, but he didn’t respond, his face stern as he quickly walked past me. I paused, then called out to his retreating back: “Asher? Asher, what’s wrong? Why aren’t you answering?” “…” Asher finally stopped. But he didn’t turn around. His voice was calmly detached, like a customer service agent: “Do you need something?” His icy tone sent a shiver down my spine. I subconsciously said: “No, nothing…” Asher started walking again. He went downstairs without looking back. Dad came out of the kitchen with breakfast. Seeing Asher leaving me far behind, he couldn’t help but laugh: “What’s wrong with you two? Did you have a fight?” Before I could speak, Asher, who had just sat down, abruptly stood up. His voice was cold and firm: “Dad, I am me, and Willow is Willow. We cannot use ‘we’.” My mom was startled when she heard that. “Well, I’ll be damned. Aren’t you two usually inseparable?” Asher didn’t rush to answer. He pondered for a few seconds, then slowly looked up at me: “Mom, Willow and I are both grown up now.” “As the saying goes, boys and girls are different. Willow and I should also maintain some distance.” “Later, Willow will marry, and I will take a wife. Then we will be two separate families.” “Willow, do you think what I’m saying is right? You can’t always cling to me anymore. Brother needs his own life, and so do you, understand?” Of course, I understood. I just hadn’t expected that those two pages of my diary could have such a profound impact on Asher. A brother who had been so eager to control his sister. Was now actively trying to maintain distance. And even emphasizing his own life… I was utterly shocked. Asher wiped the corner of his mouth. He slowly stood up: “I’ve eaten enough. You two eat. I’m leaving.” He paused. He looked up at me. And said, word for word: “Don’t follow me. I won’t be taking you with me today.” Me: “…” My mom finally noticed something was off and turned to ask me, “What’s wrong with your brother?” I rubbed my temples and said, “Maybe it’s puberty.” My mom’s eyes widened: “He’s twenty-six and still in puberty?!” Me: “…Uh, some people mature late.” My mom was half-skeptical: “That’s a bit too late, isn’t it…” 6 Asher was true to his word. For the next few days, he left early and returned late, deliberately avoiding any time he might run into me. Even if we accidentally bumped into each other at home, he would immediately get up and walk past me with an expressionless face. The times I saw him were few and far between. If it weren’t for the mysterious braying sounds I kept hearing from his room in the middle of the night, I would have thought he hadn’t been coming home for days. Estimating the time, I figured it was about time to tell Asher the truth. But the crucial evidence—the diary—had vanished. I searched everywhere, turning the house upside down, frantically sweating. If those diary entries were seen by my parents, it would be disastrous; our family would be ruined! Just as I was catching my breath from exhaustion, my best friend called, inviting me to a bar. I glanced at the time and instinctively wanted to refuse; Asher definitely wouldn’t let me go out at this hour. But then I thought, Asher had been keeping his distance from me lately because of the diary, so he might not care… I pondered for two seconds, then agreed to meet my best friend and hurried downstairs to find Asher. He was sitting on the sofa, reading a book. The warm yellow light framed his profile, his eyelashes casting a small shadow on his eyelids. Just sitting there, his mood was inexplicably somber, like a melancholic god. I stopped: “Brother, my best friend invited me out tonight. I might not be back until tomorrow morning…” The words hung in the air. Asher paused in turning a page. I waited for a long time, but still no answer. I asked softly again: “Brother, can I not go?” “Why not?” After a long silence, Asher smiled. He subtly pressed his slightly trembling fingertips together: “Of course, you can. We both should have our own lives. Brother won’t control you. Go ahead…” My eyes lit up: “Really? Brother, are you telling the truth?” Asher maintained his smile. His voice was very soft. Almost hollow: “Of course, it’s true. Didn’t I say the other day? We both should have our own lives. We are both free, little sister, you are free…” I bounced upstairs: “Okay! I’ll get changed and leave! Bye, brother!” Asher slowly let the smile fade from his face. He casually tossed the book he was holding aside. His voice remained gentle: “Alright, bye…” 7 For years, Asher had always been so controlling. My wardrobe had almost no suitable clothes for going to a bar. But now, life had suddenly gotten better. Asher no longer treated me like a grandchild. I even started to hesitate whether to tell him the truth about the diary. Never mind. I’ll think about that later. I pulled out all the clothes from my closet. They were strewn all over the bed. Then I tried them on one by one in front of the mirror. White dress? Too plain. Black dress? Too gloomy. This off-the-shoulder one, the neckline was a bit low, and the back was quite open. I held the dress against myself in the mirror, pondering whether to try it on. Suddenly, the back of my neck tightened, my back felt cold, and a strong sense of unease welled up inside me. I instinctively looked up at the mirror. In the mirror, Asher stood silently in the half-open doorway. I gasped. I didn’t know how long he had been standing there. I didn’t know when he had arrived. I didn’t know why his footsteps made no sound at all. Asher just stood there. Half of his body was hidden in the hallway shadows. The other half was illuminated by the room light. Revealing an expressionless face. He was watching me. Not with that deliberately distant gaze from before. But with a damp, sticky quality, something I couldn’t quite identify. His gaze fell directly on me from the mirror, landing on the backless dress in my hand. 8 The dress in my hand almost slipped. I turned to look at him: “Brother, what are you doing standing there? You scared me…” Asher seemed to be yanked back from some deep place by my words. He suddenly snapped back to reality. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly. When he opened them again, his eyes had regained their calm. He leaned against the doorframe. Shrugging helplessly: “Nothing, just passing by.” “Come on, Willow, don’t I have to pass your room to get back to mine?” His tone was light, as if the person in the mirror just now had been my imagination. I stared at him for two seconds. Then realized: “I know, brother, you don’t want me to go, do you?” Asher paused. Then he curved his lips, smiling effortlessly, with a hint of helpless indulgence. “How could that be? I haven’t changed my mind, don’t overthink it, little sister.” “Willow, brother still says the same thing. We are both free. What kind of brother would always want to control his sister for no reason?” “Controlling her until she’s eighteen is fine, but still controlling her after eighteen, isn’t that too much, too annoying? I’m not that bored…” As he spoke, his gaze seemed pulled by something, irresistibly drifting downwards. Landing on the dress in my hand. Just one look. Then he immediately shifted his gaze: “Don’t worry, brother won’t control you anymore, Willow. From now on, you can do whatever you want.” “Alright, you pick your clothes. Brother won’t disturb you for now.” “Oh, right, if you run out of money, just ask brother. You can’t go out without money.” 9 Asher’s footsteps gradually faded. But I stood rooted to the spot, unable to fully process what had happened. This was the Nth time today. Asher had said he would no longer control me. I slowly sensed something abnormal. Asher’s words were too decisive and practiced, as if he had drafted them long ago and rehearsed them a hundred times in his mind. I held my breath. A terrifying thought suddenly surfaced in my mind. Had he already considered distancing himself from me even before seeing my diary…? Was he tired of me? Did he no longer want me as a sister? Would he have found a way to abandon me, regardless of that diary? Did my prank diary just give him an excuse? … The more I thought about it, the more logical it seemed. I hugged my arms tightly, my fingertips touching my skin, only to realize my hands were cold. That year I was ten, Asher had sworn to me that we would be together forever. He was only twenty-six now. Had he forgotten everything already? Or rather, from beginning to end, was I the only one who remembered? I clenched my back teeth tightly. I raised my hand. And threw the dress in my hand hard at the mirror. 10 When I went downstairs again, Asher was still sitting there, reading. As if nothing had happened. He heard my footsteps. And looked up at me with a smile: “Willow…” I expressionlessly averted my gaze. As if I hadn’t seen him at all. I walked straight out. And slammed the door shut. Inside. Asher still sat rooted to the spot. Maintaining his raised head. He stared at the door I had slammed. His handsome face, turned pale, inch by inch. 11 I cried into my best friend’s shoulder for two whole hours. Muffled, I asked: “Bestie, can you teach me how to swear?” My best friend looked at me in surprise: “Sweetie, why do you suddenly want to learn swear words? Didn’t you say your brother doesn’t let you swear?” “Hmm, he doesn’t, but this time it’s different.” “How is this time different?” I wiped away my tears, fiercely declaring: “This time, I’m going to curse at him!” My best friend spat out a mouthful of drink: “Willow, are you crazy? You dare curse at your brother?” I: “Why wouldn’t I? If he doesn’t want me, he deserves to be cursed at. Just teach me.” My best friend put down her glass, looking at me strangely: “…Alright.” “Willow, remember, when you curse, always include family.” “No matter what swear word, always put family first. That way it’ll have more impact.” I wrote it down in my notebook: “Include family, put them first, that makes it impactful…” My best friend sighed helplessly: “I can tell your brother really pissed you off this time…” I didn’t say anything, just took a big gulp of the drink on the table, preparing to tell my best friend the whole story. But who would have thought, after one glass of wine, my head started spinning. I leaned on the bar to steady myself, but my body swayed uncontrollably backwards. In that precarious moment, someone from behind grabbed my hand. It was my best friend’s younger brother. I didn’t know when he had arrived. Last summer, he even gave me a love letter, but my brother saw it and he ran two miles out of fear. Before I could retract my smile, that hand was violently pushed away by another hand. The force was so great that my best friend’s brother stumbled two steps. The next second, my waist was encircled from behind, and I was scooped into a cold embrace. I looked up, bewildered. It was Asher. His lips were tightly pressed together. His jaw was clenched into a straight line. His chest heaved violently: “Willow, come home with me.” “If you ever come to a place like this again, I swear I’ll die.”

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I was on the roof, ready to jump, when a viral post froze me. The profile picture was heartbreakingly familiar. [My wife hurt my sister—the most important person to me. I taught her a lesson; she might’ve ended up in ICU. Any ideas to make it up?] Comments raged, but the OP replied coolly: [Her own parents approved. She deserved it for bullying her adopted sister.] [I faked a kidnapping while she was pregnant, made her think she was assaulted, then forged paternity tests to ‘prove’ the baby wasn’t mine—just to make her stop.] Another like appeared: [That’s my daughter. My son-in-law did this to fix her jealousy. Blame her.] The same profile pic—Rosalie’s favorite kitten. So it was real. My pain was a gift from those I loved, for the daughter they chose. Fine. I’d give them their happy ending. I leaned into the wind from the skyscraper. “System,” I whispered, “this time, I’m coming home.” … My parents were still venting in the comments. [Just bringing her home forced my sweet Rosalie into a deep depression. We thought that after the ‘assault,’ after the whole town whispered about her carrying a bastard, she’d finally quiet down and stop competing with our angel. But no, she turned around and set her sights on the company, clawing her way up to the General Manager position, just so people would call Rosalie a useless, pretty face!] Sebastian, my husband, immediately replied beneath their comment. [Good thing I was the client. I made her life a living hell, found every possible reason to reject her work. Then I took the contract she finally landed and gave it to Rosie, promoting her to General Manager instead. And for what? She threw a fit, coughed up some blood, and landed herself back in the ICU, trying to frame Rosie for it. My poor Rosie had nightmares for a week.] I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. That contract… I had fought tooth and nail for it, drank myself sick until I was coughing up blood to close that deal. It was the single ray of light I had managed to grasp for myself after crawling out of the abyss of shame, of being the woman who carried a “bastard.” And with a few tears from Rosalie, the man I loved most had snuffed it out with his own hands. One user asked him, [If you hate your wife so much, why marry her? And why are you here asking for advice on how to ‘compensate’ her? You’re a scumbag. Just divorce her. If I were your wife and found all this out, I’d lose my mind!] A minute later, a new reply from Sebastian appeared. [Are you kidding? She’s obsessively in love with me. What’s she going to do if she finds out the truth? A little lesson like this is nothing a few sweet words can’t fix. But Rosie is different. We grew up together; she depends on me. She’s already suffered enough because I couldn’t marry her. It’s only natural that I treat her better.] My parents chimed in to back him up. [If our son-in-law hadn’t been in a coma after his car crash, we never would have brought her home. We gave her the golden opportunity to marry him, a desperate marriage to bring him luck. We were so good to her, and she showed no gratitude. She targeted our Rosie at every turn. Our Rosie is the one who’s truly been wronged.] Every word was a defense of their precious angel. In their fury, my parents even forgot to hide the names. It didn’t take long for sharp-eyed netizens to connect the dots. “A marriage to bring him luck? The only high-profile heir who was in a coma after a crash in the last five years was the Blackwood heir.” “Oh my god! Then ‘Rosie’ must be Rosalie Ashwood! They were childhood sweethearts, which means she’s the fake heiress!” “Is no one else shocked that the Blackwood heir is even married in the first place??” That last comment felt like a hand closing around my throat. He didn’t love me. So my very existence as his wife was a secret. I wanted to laugh, but tears streamed down my face like broken pearls, impossible to stop. Just as their identities were exposed, the screen flickered. The post vanished. In its place was a formal cease-and-desist letter from a law firm. “This post is not to be associated with any real individuals. Blackwood Enterprises’ legal team will pursue legal action against any and all comments that slander Ms. Rosalie Ashwood’s reputation.” Ms. Rosalie Ashwood. No prizes for guessing who that protection was for. In the ten minutes I’d been reading, a crowd had gathered on the street below. Ignoring the shouts of the firefighters, Sebastian scrambled onto the rooftop. He was still catching his breath, his face a mask of terror as he crept toward me. His voice trembled. “Zoey, don’t do this. Please. It’s all my fault, everything is my fault. I can’t live without you.” His frantic, self-blaming tone was a world away from the man who had written that post. For a dizzying moment, I couldn’t tell which one was the real him. When I first arrived in this world, my mission was to win his heart. My life revolved around him. Sebastian was from a lesser branch of the Blackwood family. I nursed him back to health after his coma, and with my knowledge of the “script,” I guided him smoothly as he took control of the entire Blackwood empire. In those early years, when our love felt real, he would hold me and promise, “Zoey, my life has no meaning without you. We’ll never be parted by life, only by death.” And I believed him. When I was “assaulted” by the kidnappers, I locked myself in the bathroom and scrubbed my skin raw until the tub was stained pink with my blood. When I learned I was carrying a “bastard,” the revulsion was so strong I grabbed a pair of scissors, ready to carve the flesh from my own body. When he took my contract and my position, he told me I wasn’t competent enough, that I should just stay home and recover. I obeyed. I waited for him through a thousand cold, empty nights. It was during that dark time that the System appeared. [Host, your heart is breaking. I’m not asking you to complete the mission anymore. Let me send you home…] The System said that even though the mission was a failure, it could still grant my wish: a pair of loving parents and a partner who would never betray me. Back then, I couldn’t see the filth hidden beneath the concern of Sebastian and my parents. I just told the System, “But isn’t that the life I’m living right now?” Now, that post had ripped away the lies and the pretense. I couldn’t deceive myself any longer. As I came back to the present, the System’s voice echoed in my mind again. [Host, Sebastian is here. I know you’re going to soften. It’s windy up here. If you’re not going to jump, you should come down.] Ten times I’d been in the ICU. Nine of those times, I had begged the System to let me live. All I could chant were their names: Sebastian, Mom, Dad. I had made them my entire world. And what did they make me? “No, System,” I murmured, my voice catching in a sob. “This time, I really am going home.” Sebastian heard me and scoffed, a flicker of contempt flashing in his eyes. Ten trips to the ICU, and when had she ever actually died? But he had to maintain his loving-husband persona. His eyes reddened as he took another step closer. “Zoey, if you jump, I’m jumping with you. I’ll die with you…” I tuned him out. I closed my eyes, spread my arms, and, to the sound of horrified screams from below, I stepped off the edge. Sebastian, I don’t want you anymore. Mom, Dad, I don’t want you either. You can have your perfect, happy family with Rosalie. I’m done. … When I woke, the sharp scent of antiseptic filled my nostrils. For a second, I thought I was home. But before the joy could even register, a familiar voice sent a jolt of ice through me. I hadn’t died. “Zoey, you’re finally awake. Do you know, if you’d jumped just a few inches to the side, you would have missed the firefighters’ air cushion? If you had woken up any later, I was about to call a board meeting and announce my intention to follow you in death.” Sebastian’s eyes were bloodshot, his voice a choked, trembling whisper. He gripped my hand tightly, like I was a priceless treasure he had almost lost forever. But as he leaned down to kiss my forehead, I saw it. A faint, purplish mark on his neck—a hickey. And clinging to his suit was the distinct, cloying scent of magnolia. Rosalie’s perfume. These were details I had never let myself notice before. A wave of nausea washed over me, and I gagged. Sebastian’s face tightened with alarm. He yelled for every doctor on the floor. He stood by, his gaze locked on the physicians as they examined me, looking as if he would willingly take all my pain onto himself. The doctor felt my weak pulse and looked at me with pity. “Mrs. Blackwood is severely weakened, and her body is suffering from extreme emotional distress. She needs gentle care and absolutely cannot be agitated again.” He hesitated, then looked at Sebastian. “The day of the incident, I was called to the Blackwood residence. I don’t know what happened, but your wife was so distraught she was hyperventilating into respiratory alkalosis, her whole body convulsing. If I’d been ten minutes later, she would have been gone… Mr. Blackwood, I really think you need to pay more attention to your wife’s mental health…” My mind flashed back to that day. To Buddy, my dog, his lifeless eyes staring up at me, his blood seeping into the grout lines of the tile floor. My vacant eyes trembled. He was the one friend I’d had the longest since coming to this world. And Rosalie had killed him with a bowl of poisoned milk, then had him cooked into a stew. Sebastian felt me shaking and a flicker of pain crossed his face. He pulled me into his arms. His gaze turned dark as he looked at his assistant. “Find out what happened that day. I want the person responsible to pay with their life.” The words had barely left his mouth when the hospital room door was thrown open. Rosalie stood there, dressed in a white designer dress, her perfectly made-up face stained with two delicate teardrops. A perfect, innocent little flower. But as her eyes met mine, a flash of pure venom crossed her face. She suddenly dropped to her knees in front of me, her pale hands clutching a thick leather riding crop. “Sebastian, it’s all my fault. If I had known my sister would get so upset, I would have let Buddy bite me to death before I ever hurt him. It’s all my fault. Sister, please, hit me.” Sebastian froze, his eyes filled with a pained confusion. My parents, who had followed her in, stood rigid, their hands clenched so tight their knuckles were white. They were barely holding on to their loving-parent facade. Sebastian reached for her. “What are you talking about?” But Rosalie stubbornly stayed on her knees, refusing to move. She lifted her tear-streaked face to him. “Sebastian, if my sister won’t do it, you have to. If she can’t get this anger out, her depression will only get worse. It’s just a few lashes, right? Hit me hard. Even if my skin breaks, as long as it makes my sister feel better, I’m willing.” She grabbed the riding crop and forced it into Sebastian’s hand. Her performance was flawless, a portrait of wronged, patient suffering. It made me look like the bully, using my illness to torment her. Even the doctor standing nearby was looking at her with pity and at me with disapproval. She always did this, twisting words until I was the villain. Before, I would have tried to defend myself. But there was no point now. While Sebastian was hesitating, I snatched the riding crop. Before I could throw it away, he grabbed my wrist, his grip like iron. “That’s enough, Zoey! Stay out of this. I’ll handle Rosalie’s side of things and get you an explanation.” His hold was so strong it left angry red marks on my thin wrist. I met his eyes and saw something I’d never seen directed at me before: the cold, sharp wariness one reserves for an enemy. And I laughed. My heart, which I thought was already dead, was squeezed so hard it produced a final, bitter surge of rage. How could he be so certain I was the one at fault? Just because she was Rosalie?

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1 I was born with a built-in lie detector. Anyone who lies to me pays a price. My parents claimed they didn’t favor sons over daughters, that both were equally important. The result? They became infertile, unable to have any more children. My grandmother, distraught, adopted a boy. To ensure he grew up strong, she tricked me, telling me she would prick my head with needles to make me smarter. Instead, the needles all ended up in her beloved grandson’s head. He became simple-minded. Years later, my boyfriend proposed to me. He swore he would love me forever, vowing to be struck down by lightning if he didn’t. And he was. Struck dead by lightning. My ability was discovered by a socialite. She wanted me to test her boyfriend’s fidelity. The offer? Three million dollars. Soon, I became a hot commodity in the elite circles. Everyone wanted my services. I stared at the long string of numbers in my bank account. For the first time, I desperately wished there were more lies in this world. … After high school graduation, I had just received my acceptance letter when my boyfriend knelt before me and proposed. The crowd around us chanted, “Say yes! Say yes! Say yes!” I looked at the cheap plastic ring in his hand, my voice even. “Do you truly love me?” He nodded eagerly. “Yes, I love you!” He held up three fingers. “I swear I’ll love you forever, or may I be struck down by lightning.” I actually believed him, a sweet smile gracing my lips. But then, the next second, the familiar buzz of the lie detector rang in my ears. My smile faltered. Immediately, the sky darkened. Thunder cracked, and lightning flashed. My boyfriend looked up, bewildered. Someone in the crowd remarked, “Looks like rain.” Then, I watched as a bolt of lightning struck him. He remained in his kneeling position, utterly charred, his eyes wide and vacant. The plastic ring in his hand, scorched black, rolled to the ground. Just like his cheap affection, shattered to pieces. “Ahhh! Someone’s dead!” Disappointment flickered in my eyes. I turned and walked away, ignoring the screams behind me. I stayed in my rental apartment for two days. Just as I was about to cook some instant noodles, there was a knock at the door. Opening it, I was surprised to find Penelope Ashworth, a well-known socialite from my school. Penelope gestured to her two bodyguards, who pushed past me and entered. I was forced onto the sofa, staring at her. “Your boyfriend died, didn’t he?” My expression shifted slightly. How rude. To just bluntly ask if someone’s dead. Penelope lifted her chin. The bodyguards opened two cases, revealing stacks of cash. “Luna Hayes, I know about your ability—that you can tell if someone is lying.” “Help me test my boyfriend, and all this money is yours.” I was very tempted, but a little hesitant. I warned her, “People might die, you know.” Penelope’s voice rose. “Do you think I care? I’m perfect; how could he possibly not love me?” The lie detector buzzed again. I sighed inwardly. Penelope clearly cared a lot. The next second, the lightbulb above her head fell. A bodyguard quickly stepped in front of her, shielding her. Penelope shrieked, scrambling to her feet, looking at me helplessly. “See? You lied. You care very much about your boyfriend.” I was born with this innate lie detector. Whenever someone lies to me, I hear a warning sound. And then, that person pays a price, big or small. Penelope’s eyes lit up even more. “Then help me! Do you want me to call him over? Here’s his contact information.” 2 I started by adding Charles Knight’s contact. But he didn’t accept. He rejected my request. Penelope seemed pleased. “See? He respects boundaries.” I gazed at the stacks of cash in the cases, a hungry glint in my eyes. I cleared my throat. “How about you bring him over tomorrow? I can test him in person, just a few questions.” Penelope was thrilled. “Alright!” I saw them out, carefully locked the apartment door, and then pounced on the money. I counted bill after bill. I’d probably never seen so much money in my life; my fingers cramped from counting. Three million dollars in total. I counted it three times. Penelope was truly rich. I wouldn’t have to work my way through four years of college now! But before I could even celebrate, my parents called. “Darling, do you have any money? We want to give a gift to the matchmaker to help your brother find a wife.” My voice was flat. “No money.” “That works out. I found you a good family for marriage. Girls don’t need to read so many books; it’s useless.” “You need to think about your brother. He’s simple-minded. What will happen if he doesn’t have a wife?” I couldn’t help but laugh. I hung up immediately. Then came a barrage of calls and messages, all cursing me, calling me ungrateful and heartless. When I was little, I had just figured out my innate lie detector. I excitedly went to test if my parents loved me. “Mom and Dad, if you have a baby brother, will you still want me?” My mother gently stroked my face. “How could we not want you? You’re our sweet little girl. Boys and girls are all the same.” That night, they became infertile. When they received the hospital reports, they wept hysterically. “Our son! We won’t have a son!” It was at that moment I realized they didn’t love me. They were all liars. No wonder they named me ‘Bring-a-Boy.’ I saw them crying, so ugly, and couldn’t help but laugh. My father heard me and grabbed a bamboo stick to hit me. I shouted, “You’re infertile! Not even a man! How can you be my father?!” My shouting let the whole village know. My parents were utterly humiliated and tried to commit suicide by drinking pesticide that day. My grandmother, desperate, adopted a boy, which immediately soothed their spirits. My parents revolved around him, insisting I call him ‘Little Brother.’ Later, my grandmother heard about a folk remedy to ward off misfortune. It was supposed to help her precious grandson thrive. She held up three silver needles and came to me. “Darling, if these three needles are put into your head, you’ll become very smart.” My expression was cold. The buzzing of the lie detector was so loud it almost deafened me. “Alright, I want to be smart.” I wanted to test if someone lying to me could actually harm me. Worst case, I could always run away. But before the needles even touched my head, my brother started crying. My grandmother rushed to comfort him, but he cried all night. My parents, worried sick, took him to the hospital. The doctors found three silver needles in his head. From then on, he became simple-minded. The whole family wept inconsolably. The experiment was a success. People lying to me couldn’t harm me. I gathered the money, tucked it under my bed, and planned to deposit it in the bank tomorrow. Penelope moved quickly. The next day, she sent me an address. It wasn’t just Charles Knight who showed up. Penelope’s best friend, Serena Davies, was also there. Penelope explained, “This is my best friend. She’s very curious about you.” I knew. She was probably worried Penelope was being swindled. No one would truly believe I had special abilities. 3 I cleared my throat. “Shall we begin?” Charles sat up straight, his right hand clasped with Penelope’s. “Do you want to marry Penelope?” Charles nodded. “Of course. I only want to marry Penelope.” No buzz. Penelope looked at me, excited. I shook my index finger at her. No lie! “Do you love her?” Charles stated firmly, “Yes, I do. We’ve been together since childhood. We’re destined to be together.” Again, no buzz. Penelope’s smile stretched almost to her ears. Charles truly loved her. She suddenly stood up. “Alright! The test is over. Luna Hayes, thank you so much.” I didn’t expect the money to be this easy. Serena, standing nearby, scoffed. “Oh, Penelope, this woman is a fraud. She’s just after your money. Don’t let her trick you out of everything.” “No way. I’ve had someone watching Luna. Her boyfriend lied that day, and he was struck by lightning right on the spot.” So, Penelope had been there that day. Serena shrugged, annoyed. “Fine, I’m going to get a manicure. I wouldn’t have come if I’d known it would be so boring.” I suddenly spoke. “You’re lying. You won’t be getting a manicure today.” Serena reacted sharply. “What are you talking about?!” The next second, the coffee cup in front of her exploded, sending ceramic shards flying. Charles instinctively let go of Penelope’s hand and moved to shield Serena. The atmosphere grew tense. That was a purely subconscious reaction from Charles. I immediately realized. Here’s my real job! “May I ask why you shielded Serena?” Charles’s voice was flustered, and he instinctively glanced at Penelope. “Because she’s Penelope’s friend. How could I just stand by and watch her get hurt?” The lie detector buzzed. Wrong reason. I felt a surge of excitement. “Then what is your relationship with Serena?” Charles stammered. “She’s… my girlfriend’s best friend, you know.” No buzz this time. “I’m asking about your relationship with Serena, not involving Miss Ashworth.” Charles mumbled. “We’re… barely friends.” The lie detector buzzed again. “You’re lying.” Charles looked panicked. “What are you talking about?!” He sharply turned to Penelope, and seeing the suspicion in her eyes, he grew even more flustered. “Penelope, she’s just a charlatan. Don’t believe her. Serena and I really are just barely friends.” Serena quickly chimed in. “Yes, she’s definitely lying.” Penelope stared at him, demanding, “What were you doing last Saturday night? Why did you smell like another woman’s perfume?” So Penelope’s suspicions weren’t unfounded. I repeated my question. Sweat beaded on Charles’s forehead. He said stiffly, “I was studying, Penelope knows that.” Another lie. I looked at Serena, a smile playing on my lips. “And you? What were you doing?” Serena nervously clutched her sleeves. She clearly didn’t believe I could truly detect lies. She bravely said, “I was getting a manicure. I get a new one every Saturday. I always have.” Serena did have a habit of getting a new manicure every Saturday, but that night, she had done more than just her nails. I looked at Penelope. “They’re both lying.” “Impossible! I have a classmate who can vouch for me!” Charles exclaimed. Soon, his classmate arrived. I asked him seriously, “Did you personally see Charles studying that night, and not doing anything else?” His classmate nodded firmly. “Yes, Charles was studying.” I sighed. “Miss Ashworth, I suggest you investigate thoroughly. They’re both lying.” Serena shouted, “Are you done?! How could I possibly be involved with Charles?! You’re a fraud!” My voice was calm. “Then do you dare to swear that you and Charles are completely innocent?” 4 Serena didn’t dare. Although she didn’t know how I could tell she was lying, a chill still ran down her spine. I looked at Charles again. “You make a vow.” “Of course I can swear, but this ends here. I don’t have time to keep messing with a fraud like you.” “Penelope, I’m so disappointed in you. I love you so much, and I’ve played along with your games, and you still doubt me.” Penelope, recalling my previous boyfriend’s fate, grew anxious. “Maybe… maybe we should just drop it. I’ll investigate the rest myself.” The atmosphere grew tense. Even if we stopped here, I wouldn’t be returning the money. But I detest those who betray sincere hearts. I stared directly at Serena and smiled. “Miss Davies, I don’t recall ever saying you were involved with Charles. Why are you so quick to jump to conclusions?” Penelope’s face changed slightly, and she snapped her gaze to Charles and Serena. Charles looked irritated. He ran his hand through his hair. “Penelope, are you seriously still doing this? You just suspect me of cheating, don’t you?” “Fine, I admit it. I cheated. Are you satisfied now?” “Penelope, your constant suspicion will only erode my love for you.” The lie detector remained silent through every one of his statements. That was the problem. It meant everything he said was true. Guilt immediately welled up in Penelope. Was she really too suspicious? Charles then turned to Serena. “You make a vow. If nothing happens, I’ll buy you a car. We’ll just play along with Penelope for a bit longer.” Serena’s tension instantly melted away. She held up three fingers. “I swear, if I’m involved with Charles, if I stole my best friend’s boyfriend, may I be hit by a car the moment I step outside!” Charles smirked. “Is that enough?” I nodded. “That’s enough.” Charles took Penelope’s hand. “Penelope, believe me, I really didn’t cheat.” “You’re the only one I love.” “Let’s just drop this. I really can’t handle this kind of joke.” Penelope’s expression softened, and she nodded hesitantly. “Goodbye, you two. You can go. I still want to finish the tea and pastries on the table.” I lowered my head, earnestly eating my cake. One slice of cake cost over a thousand dollars. I’d never tasted anything like it in my life. Serena rolled her eyes. “Such a commoner.” Penelope frowned. “Serena, don’t be rude.” Serena snorted. Just as I was finishing my cake, I heard the screech of tires outside. I picked up my coffee cup, walked to the window, and looked down. Serena was lying in the street, having been thrown by the impact. She was unconscious, brain matter spilling from her head. The car didn’t stop. It continued, plowing directly into Charles and his classmate. Screams erupted. Charles was pinned against a tree, clutching his leg frantically. “Ah! My leg is broken!” Because they all lied. The consequences caught up to everyone, to varying degrees. Penelope, horrified and shaken, looked up, and our eyes met. I raised my cup to her in a silent toast. Your money was well spent.

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