My best friend and I were transported to a tribe of shapeshifters. She became the substitute for the aloof Raptor Priest’s idealized love, While I ended up as the devoted pet of a possessive Snake King with two formidable appendages. We used our modern knowledge to greatly improve the tribe’s infrastructure. But the tribe’s holy woman branded us as heretics and brutally murdered us. Beheaded and torn apart, our bodies were left in pieces. When I opened my eyes again, I immediately grabbed my backpack and knocked on my friend’s door, “Ready to die?” “Let’s die together.” After our demise, both our husbands went mad. 0 When the Raptor Priest returned, Lily and I were figuring out what to do with our last box of supplies. She carefully sorted through the items at the bottom of the box. From small bottles of hot sauce to folding tents, everything was precious. Over the years, we had unknowingly accumulated a small warehouse through our efforts to modernize the tribe. She crouched on the ground, examining each item with interest. As I stood beside her, I felt both envious and proud. Suddenly, an urgent announcement came from outside: “The High Priest has returned to the tribe!” Lily jumped up in an instant. Without hesitation, she shoved me along with the packages under the bed: “Hide well and don’t make a sound!” Her strength was frightening. She handed me a three-kilogram pot as if it weighed nothing more than a feather. “If that priestess makes a move first, use this to bash her!” Just as she finished speaking, the door was kicked open with a loud bang by the Raptor Priest. Although “priest” was a civilized title, the man before us was still very much a predator. His height nearly blocked out the light from outside, his body covered in sleek muscles. One look down from him was enough to make one’s heart tremble. Lily, who had just been engrossed in sorting supplies, now raised her head with tears in her eyes, looking so helpless she seemed about to shatter: “Why didn’t you send word of your return so I could welcome you properly?…” She choked back a sob, her voice filled with resentment. The Raptor Priest’s gaze shifted, his voice like a crack in a glacier: “Where have you hidden Sophia?” “Sophia is missing?!” Lily’s face was full of shock, not looking like an act at all. “How many times have I told you, she is the holy woman guided by the gods. My intimate rituals with her are destined by fate.” His patience was like thin ice. Before he finished speaking, his eyes had already turned gloomy, making one’s scalp tingle: “You meet her in private once, and she vanishes without a trace. Now you’re still trying to put on an act for me?” “I really don’t know. She called me over, saying she wanted to talk…” Lily’s voice trembled softly as she reached out to grasp the hem of the Raptor Priest’s robe, only to be coldly shaken off. The force was too strong, instantly leaving a red mark on Lily’s wrist. She shivered, tears streaming down her face. Seeing the mark, the priest paused for a moment before turning to leave: “Without my orders, don’t take half a step out of this room!” After he spoke, the hem of his robe disappeared through the doorway. Lily was left wailing and pleading: “My lord, please stay… don’t go…” Her sorrowful voice lingered in the air as I stared wide-eyed from under the bed. Lily’s acting skills had improved. As soon as the man’s figure turned out of sight, Lily immediately locked the door, wiped her face, and said: “You can come out now. The show has begun.” “Sophia’s started making trouble. After messing with the priest, it’ll be your snake’s turn.” “I think so too.” I crawled out and looked back at the spoils of war scattered on the floor. Lily and I exchanged glances, and I cleared my throat: “Ready to die?” Lily nodded without hesitation: “We must die to teach those men a lesson.” 0

Lily and I were both transported to this world. Her identity here was the substitute for Callum’s idealized love – the holy priestess Sophia. In this savage tribe of shapeshifters, the priest held an exalted position blessed with divine power. Callum was handsome and revered by everyone in the tribe. Unfortunately, his heart was always fixated on the priestess Sophia. No matter how beautiful, a cold butt that can’t be warmed is useless. As expected of best friends, my situation was even worse than hers. When we first arrived, not understanding the situation, a row of naked men knelt before us begging to be chosen. I just had to pick the most dangerous-looking one. With a low, icy voice and a dangerous aura. Everyone in the tribe feared the Snake King’s venom, and even more so his ruthless cruelty. It wasn’t until the man was in bed that I realized how powerful those two appendages of his were. To protect myself, I became the Snake King Liam’s devoted pet. As long as he was happy, I suffered a little less. In our previous life, Lily and I relied on our modern knowledge to greatly improve the tribe. We built bridges and roads, constructed houses and wove cloth, and even dug a simple well. But while our men were away, Sophia needed only one word to turn us into sacrificial offerings on the altar. The two of us were tied to pillars, watching helplessly as Sophia, wearing a pristine white robe and an angelic smile, raised a dagger to my face. Slice by slice, slice by slice. My blood stained the altar red. I was beheaded, my body torn to pieces. With a final burst of flame, Sophia burned our very souls. “What did she actually talk to you about?” “How would I know? I never went to meet her.” Lily gritted her teeth. “Living a second time, I’m not that stupid.” I sighed, rubbing my forehead. “Callum may be cold, but even if Sophia causes trouble, he’ll just be distant for a few days. At worst, he might send you away.” I laughed coldly, though my heart was pounding: “But that snake of mine…” Lily shuddered along with me: “Your psycho snake is truly terrifying. He might really flay you alive.” “It’s not just ‘might’.” I trembled, recalling the rumors about the Snake King: Apparently, to extract information, Liam once cut off a prisoner’s ears and then skinned the shapeshifter alive. The screams echoed endlessly, scaring the enemy into fleeing in all directions. It became a legend that established his reputation. Unfortunately, such a “god of death” had never stayed for me. His heart and eyes were also fixed on the woman who had doomed Lily and me — Sophia. Thinking about having to die, I also needed to plan my escape luggage. As soon as I entered the door, I was grabbed by the waist and pinned against the wall in a dizzying motion. A voice that made my heart race sounded: “Where have you been?”

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My ex-fiancé Ethan Parker embezzled $3 million from my personal investment fund. Even worse, I discovered he had been having an affair with his assistant Olivia Wilson for months, plotting to steal all my assets! Four years of love turned out to be nothing but an elaborate scam! “Where’s my money?” I kicked open the door to his office. “Oh, that,” Ethan said casually. “Olivia’s new project needed some startup capital, so I borrowed it temporarily.” “Borrowed? Is $3 million just pocket change to you?” “Aren’t we family? Why be so particular about money?” He had the audacity to act righteous. “Family? Does family sleep with someone else behind your back?” I threw the hotel photos of him and Olivia on the desk. Ethan’s face turned pale, but he quickly regained composure. “There’s nothing to explain. Olivia and I just have a work relationship.” “Does a work relationship require sharing a bed?” Looking at this man I once loved deeply, anger boiled inside me like lava. Four years of tenderness and care, all just an act! He treated me like an ATM, using my love as a bargaining chip!

It was an ordinary Tuesday until I noticed something unusual in the studio’s account. Three million dollars, gone. “Lucy!” I called out. Lucy Liu hurried in, looking flustered. “Yes, Ms. Green…” “Where’s the $3 million from the Starlight Design Fund?” I slammed the bank statement on the desk. “It… it was approved for transfer by Mr. Parker.” Lucy was trembling as she spoke. “He approved what? That was my dedicated design project fund!” My voice rose several octaves. “Mr. Parker said it was a temporary loan…” “Temporary loan?” I stood up abruptly. “What right does he have to touch my money?” Lucy took half a step back in fear. “Ms. Green, I was just following Mr. Parker’s instructions…” “Get out!” Ethan Parker, my fiancé, was also the general manager of Inspired Creations Advertising. We had been dating for four years and were supposed to get married next month. Now it seemed that wedding needed to be reconsidered. I stormed straight to his office. Ethan was organizing some files. When he saw me burst in, the pen in his hand fell to the floor. “Where’s my money?” I walked up to his desk, both hands on the surface. “What money?” His gaze shifted. “Don’t play dumb! The $3 million from the Starlight Design Fund!” My voice was so loud the next office could probably hear. Ethan stood up, adjusting his tie. “Lower your voice. What will the colleagues think?” “I want everyone to hear!” I pointed at him. “What did you do with my money without my permission?” “Oh, that money.” Ethan said nonchalantly. “Olivia’s new project needed some startup funds, so I borrowed it temporarily. I’ll return it this week.” “Borrowed?” I sneered. “Is $3 million just pocket change to you?” “We’re getting married soon. Why be so particular?” Ethan was getting impatient. “Don’t you trust me?” “Married?” My voice got even louder. “Does being married mean you can take each other’s money as you please?” Just then, Olivia knocked and entered. She was the studio’s assistant designer, admittedly quite attractive, with a very approachable demeanor. “What’s going on? I could hear arguing from the hallway.” Olivia pretended to look concerned. “Perfect timing, Olivia.” Ethan immediately changed his attitude. “Explain to Rachel why your project needs that startup capital.” Olivia immediately put on a pitiful expression, her eyes reddening. “Ms. Green, it’s all my fault for not being capable enough. The project ran into difficulties.” “If we didn’t urgently need these funds, I wouldn’t have troubled Mr. Parker…” “You troubled him?” I stared at Olivia. “Did you know that was my personal fund?” “I… I didn’t know.” Olivia lowered her head. “I thought it was the studio’s working capital. I’m really sorry!” “If sorry was enough, we wouldn’t need contracts, would we?” My voice was cold as ice. Ethan suddenly slammed the table: “Enough, Rachel! Olivia has apologized. What more do you want?” “What do I want?” I turned to him. “I want my money, right now!” “I don’t have it now!” Ethan shouted back. “The funds have already been invested in the project. We have to wait until this week to recover them!” “This week? What if the project fails?” “It won’t fail.” Olivia hurriedly said. “I guarantee the project will succeed.” “You guarantee?” I looked at her. “What can you use as collateral?” Olivia opened her mouth but couldn’t say a word. “It must be repaid this week,” I pointed at Ethan. “Not a penny less!” I left, but turned back at the door. “Oh, and in the future, you’d better get my permission before touching my money!”

Back in my office, Lucy carefully brought in some tea. “Ms. Green, should I look into the specific flow of that fund?” “Do it. As detailed as possible.” Two days later, Lucy brought a stack of photos, her hands trembling. “Ms. Green, take a look at this.” In the photos, Ethan and Olivia were coming out of a high-end French restaurant. Olivia was helping Ethan adjust his shirt collar. They were laughing happily, and Ethan’s hand was on Olivia’s shoulder. “When was this taken?” I picked up the photo to examine closely. “Last night at 9:20 PM.” Lucy pulled out her phone. “I followed them until 10:30 PM before they left separately.” I clearly remembered that last night when I texted Ethan, he said he was working late on files and his phone was about to die. “Anything else?” Lucy took out another stack of documents: “This is Mr. Parker’s schedule for the past week.” I flipped through page by page, getting angrier with each one. The schedule said he was meeting important clients, but the actual locations all matched Olivia’s activity tracks. “This bastard!” I threw the documents on the table. “Ms. Green, there’s something even worse.” Lucy played a recording on her phone. “I recorded this in the break room yesterday.” Olivia’s voice came through the recording: “Mr. Parker looked so handsome in that navy suit last night, much more manly than usual.” Another female voice asked: “What’s really going on between you two?” Olivia gave a light laugh: “You know.” I smashed the water glass on the floor, shattering it to pieces. “Keep investigating! I want to know their every move!” The next day, I decided to test Olivia myself. I cornered her in the design department’s break room. “How was the French dinner yesterday?” I asked deliberately. Olivia was making coffee. Hearing this, her hand shook, spilling coffee grounds all over the table. “What… what French dinner?” She nervously cleaned up the mess. “Don’t pretend.” I walked closer to her. “That place by the river last night. Pretty good, wasn’t it?” Olivia’s face turned pale instantly, then she forced a smile. “Oh, that. It was nice. Mr. Parker said he enjoyed it too.” As soon as she finished speaking, she realized she had slipped up and immediately shut her mouth. “Is that so?” I stared into her eyes. “Didn’t Ethan say he was working late last night?” “I… I…” Olivia stammered. “Maybe I remembered wrong.” “Remembered wrong?” I sneered. “Or have you gotten so used to your dates that you forgot to keep them secret?” “Ms. Green, you’ve misunderstood!” Olivia was sweating profusely. “Mr. Parker and I really just have a work relationship!” “Work?” I took out my phone and showed her the photo Lucy sent me. “Is this work too?” In the photo, Ethan and Olivia were laughing and chatting in the restaurant. Olivia was intimately wiping the corner of Ethan’s mouth. Olivia’s face went completely white when she saw the photo. “This… this is…” “What is this?” I held the phone in front of her face. “Care to explain?” Olivia opened her mouth but couldn’t say a word. Just then, Ethan pushed open the door: “What are you two talking about?” “About your date.” I showed him the phone directly. “Care to explain?” Ethan’s face changed when he saw the photo. But he quickly regained composure. “What’s there to explain?” He even acted righteous. “Olivia and I were discussing the project over dinner. Is there a problem?” “Does discussing a project require feeding each other?” I pointed at the photo. “Is this what you call discussing a project?” “That was… that was an accident.” Olivia started to panic. “We were talking about the design plan, and I had papers in my hand, so…” “So you fed him by accident?” I sneered. “Olivia Wilson, do you think I’m an idiot?” “Rachel, you’re overthinking this.” Ethan started to act gentle. “Olivia and I really just have a work relationship.” “Is that so?” I took out another photo. “Then how do you explain this?”

In the second photo, Ethan’s arm was around Olivia’s waist as they stood at the entrance of a boutique hotel. This time Olivia was completely speechless. “I can explain!” Ethan suddenly spoke up. “Olivia had too much to drink that day, so I sent her back to the hotel!” “Sent her back to the hotel?” I laughed. “Did you send her to her room?” “No!” Ethan waved his hands frantically. “Just to the lobby!” “Really?” I took out my phone and played a recording. It was the voice of the hotel receptionist: “Room 312, two guests, check-in time 10:15 PM, check-out time 10 AM the next day.” The room fell dead silent. “Anything else you want to explain?” I looked at both of them. Ethan and Olivia exchanged a glance, neither daring to speak. “Very well.” I put away my phone. “Since you’re not saying anything, I’ll take that as an admission.” With that, I left them standing there staring at each other. A week later, it was the studio’s annual design exhibition. The exhibition was held at the downtown art gallery, with over 500 attendees, all important figures in the fashion world. I sat in the VIP section, with Ethan next to me, wearing exquisite makeup and the dress I had personally designed. “This year’s Best Creative Award goes to our assistant designer, Olivia Wilson!” the host announced. The audience applauded as Olivia walked onto the stage, beaming. She looked especially beautiful today, wearing a white evening gown with flawless makeup. “Thank you everyone!” Olivia took the microphone. “This year our design department has achieved great results…” She started playing a PowerPoint presentation. The first part showed normal design works. I was about to applaud when suddenly the tone changed dramatically. My early failed design cases appeared on the big screen. A huge meme was added, with the word “FAILURE” written prominently. The whole room burst into laughter. “Haha, Rachel’s design back then was really ugly!” “How much did that exhibition cost again? $500,000?” “It’s still hilarious to think about now!” The murmurs in the audience grew louder. Everyone was looking at me, some snickering, some pointing and whispering. I sat there, expressionless, watching my past failures being displayed as a joke on the big screen. Even worse, Olivia on stage pretended to be flustered: “Oh! I’m so sorry, Ms. Green! This was an old template that wasn’t deleted properly! I’m really sorry!” But while she apologized, her face showed a hint of smugness. It was clearly intentional. Ethan not only didn’t stop it, but laughed along. He covered his mouth, laughing so hard he was bent over, almost to tears. “Ethan, you find this amusing too?” I turned to look at him. “No, I just…” Ethan was still laughing. “Just remembered that project from back then…” People in the audience started commenting loudly: “Rachel’s work quality has really declined these past few years!” “I heard she’s lost quite a few projects!” “She’s just riding on her past reputation now!” “If it weren’t for her dad’s connections, she would’ve gone bankrupt long ago!”

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Iris was pregnant, and the father of her child was my legal husband, Julian Thorne. On our seventh wedding anniversary, Serena Hastings leaned into Julian’s embrace, triumphantly announcing the news to all our guests. I, Iris Thorne, the rightful Mrs. Thorne, became a colossal joke. Julian warned me to keep my schemes in check and to wholeheartedly serve Serena during her pregnancy. He showed no regard for my dignity. I stared at the tall man before me, a wave of desolation washing over my heart. It has to end, I thought. When I decided to leave, Julian casually made a bet with his friends: “If Iris isn’t back, begging to come home within 24 hours, how about that prime development property downtown? It’s yours.” “24 hours? No way, eight is plenty! Everyone knows Iris can’t live without Mr. Thorne,” someone scoffed. Laughter erupted. Outside, a Jaguar sat parked in the dark night. The man inside wore sunglasses, his expression unreadable. This time, I was truly leaving. My suitcase had been packed for ages, holding only a few changes of clothes. After marrying Julian, all the jewelry gifted by his family, those precious pieces, had been meticulously kept in the master bedroom’s jewelry box. I didn’t take a single one. As I dragged my suitcase, about to step out of the villa door, I heard Serena’s sickly sweet voice. “Iris, just walking out like that wouldn’t be very nice, would it?” I paused, wondering what game Serena was playing. “The Thornes are a powerful family, a massive empire. Who knows what precious valuables you’ve stuffed into that suitcase.” I calmly replied, “I haven’t taken anything from the Thorne family. This is just some of my clothes.” Serena clacked towards me in her high heels, stopped right in front of me, and looked down her nose, dramatically saying, “Clothes? Are clothes even yours? You’re a freeloader with no job, living off him!” Her cruel words flooded my ears. I bit down hard on my lip, quickly tasting the metallic tang of blood. Serena was right. I didn’t have a job. Seven years ago, when Julian and I got married, I had just graduated from college. But Julian had said he didn’t like high-powered career women who were never home. He preferred a devoted wife, someone who’d make a warm home for him. So, I decisively gave up the offer from an internationally renowned design firm, trapping myself within the four walls of the kitchen. “Fine.” I pushed my suitcase forward. Serena was still relentless. “What about what you’re wearing?” I froze. What I was wearing? “Julian, make her leave the clothes! She can’t take anything that isn’t hers.” Serena pulled Julian in front of me, waiting for him to speak and back her up. “Iris, strip.” Numbly, I took off my jacket and tossed it to the ground. Finally, I gave one last, heavy look at the husband I’d been married to for seven years, then turned and walked away without a backward glance. A familiar license plate came into view. I quickened my pace, when suddenly a large hand, like a vice, clamped onto my wrist. It was Julian. “Iris, even like this, you’re still dead set on leaving?” My wrist throbbed from his grip. I ignored Julian’s words and instead asked him, “Julian, do you still remember our child?” Julian’s grip on my wrist loosened.

In the second year of our marriage, I unexpectedly found out I was pregnant. When I had my check-up at the hospital, the doctor said I was exactly three months along. Overjoyed by the news, I couldn’t wait to share it with Julian immediately. At the time, Julian was on a business trip abroad. I planned to keep the news a surprise and tell him when he returned home. The day Julian came back, it was pouring rain. I warned him to be careful and to come home right after his plane landed. I’d given Maria, the housemaid, the day off. I curled up alone on the couch, stroking my belly, imagining how delighted Julian would be. But Julian never came home. Because Serena was afraid of thunder, Julian stayed with her all night. Meanwhile, I slipped on a spilled glass of water and fell heavily to the ground. A warm gush between my legs sent me into a panic. Fighting the sharp pains in my stomach, I dragged myself to reach for my phone on the table. Dots of blood stained the floor. I called Julian’s phone repeatedly, but it just rang unanswered. I prayed that my baby inside would be strong, just a little stronger, strong enough to hold on until I could get to the hospital. I gritted my teeth and, with my last ounce of strength, dialed 911. I woke up in the hospital. Julian told me the baby was gone. I furiously gripped his collar, asking why he didn’t come home? Why didn’t he answer his phone? Serena rushed over, tears in her eyes, begging for my forgiveness. She said she was scared of thunder, so she’d messaged Julian, pleading with him to come stay with her. My child, this baby who had only been in my womb for three months, died that thundering, rainy night.

“Julian, what does any of this matter? Even if there are mountains of knives and seas of fire, I’m still leaving,” I said with absolute resolve. “Fine.” Julian’s eyes held a dark shadow. I hadn’t walked two steps before a sharp pain flared in my neck, and I lost consciousness. Julian had me locked away. Someone delivered my meals every day. I didn’t understand what Julian was playing at. Two weeks into my confinement, I was taken to the hospital. I was strapped to a gurney and brought into an operating room. A second before the anesthesia took effect, I heard the doctor sigh, “Uterine cancer, needs a hysterectomy. Poor thing.” My uterus was removed. Julian sat by my hospital bed, holding a bowl of soup Maria had made, ready to feed me. I turned my head away. “Iris, you just had surgery. Don’t play around with your health,” Julian’s chilling voice rang out. Surgery? If it weren’t for you and Serena, I wouldn’t have needed this surgery. Serena’s pregnancy wasn’t going well. She’d heard about some supposedly powerful fortuneteller from somewhere and dragged Julian to see him. The fortuneteller told them that my future child would bring her bad luck, and if I had any chance of getting pregnant, not only would Serena’s baby not survive, but it would also harm the mother. Then, they gave Julian the birth details of this “woman,” which matched mine exactly. So, they fabricated a “uterine cancer” diagnosis for me. “Iris, after you’re discharged, you’ll still be Mrs. Thorne. Serena’s child will call you Mommy,” Julian said, as if to himself. As if that could somehow erase the harm they had inflicted upon me. “Iris, I’ll compensate you.” As he said this, Julian’s phone rang. It was Serena calling him. “Julian, I hurt my hand! Hurry and come here!” her anxious voice came through the receiver. I grabbed Julian’s hand and said, “The only compensation I want is for you to refuse Serena.” Serena kept urging him over the phone. Julian pried my hand open. He said, word for word, “Don’t be ungrateful. Know your place. What do you have that can compare to Serena?” Then he turned and left without a backward glance. The empty hospital room was left with just me. Compared to Serena’s injured hand – a matter Julian treated as monumental – my uterus being removed seemed utterly trivial. I, Iris, was completely insignificant to Julian. Serena posted sweet photos of herself and Julian on Ins. The caption read: “I jokingly said my hand was hurt, and someone rushed right over to see me. I’m so happy!” I coldly ‘liked’ her post, then shared it with the comment, “Wishing you both happiness.” After a period of observation in the hospital, I was again confined to Julian’s villa. Why do I say confined? Because on the day I was discharged, Julian sent two burly bodyguards. Seeing the strong men, whose wrists were as thick as my calves, I had no choice but to push down my thoughts and temporarily return home.

Back at the villa, I was assigned to the guest room. This villa was Julian’s and my marital home. Every corner had been decorated by my own hands. The plush ornaments on the sofa, the exquisite stone sculptures on the display cabinet, the fresh flowers in the floor vase… But now, they were all gone. Alfred, the butler, told me it was at Miss Hastings’ request. Serena had moved into Julian’s and my marital bedroom. “Iris, you’re finally home! This is wonderful!” Serena came down from the second floor, eagerly rushing to my side. “Finally, I’m not the only one in this house. You can keep me company now!” I wasn’t used to feigning civility with Serena. I pulled my hand from her grasp and said nothing. Julian followed her down from the second floor. He was displeased with my cold attitude and was about to scold me when Serena gently stopped him. She sweetly said, “Iris, please don’t be mad at me. I really didn’t want to do this, but I’m so uncomfortable with my pregnancy that I have to trouble you to take care of me for a while.” I was confused. Take care of her? Me, take care of Serena? I thought Julian had just said it offhand, but I hadn’t expected him to actually mean turning me into her personal attendant. “Where’s the housemaid?” I demanded of Julian. “Serena doesn’t like outsiders,” Julian said, knowing he was in the wrong, but not wanting to lose face. After all, in front of me, Julian always had to be superior. “Serena’s pregnancy is hard on her. As Mrs. Thorne, it’s only right that you take care of her,” Julian added. Mrs. Thorne. It seemed that as long as I had those three words, as long as I had that title, it could somehow compensate for all the hurt Julian had inflicted on me. I had no heart to argue with them anymore. I just wanted to go back to my room and get some sleep. Watching my back as I walked towards the guest room, Julian’s heart inexplicably trembled. Iris had lost more weight. After all, she’d had surgery. He instructed Alfred to make some of my favorite dishes for dinner. Seeing Julian staring blankly at Iris’s retreating figure, a venomous glint flashed in Serena’s eyes. Without a housemaid, and with bodyguards supervising me 24/7, I was trapped in the villa, becoming Serena’s personal servant. During this time, I had kept in touch with Liam Carter. Liam had repeatedly tried to find ways to help me escape Julian. But given that I was under strict surveillance, Liam’s plan had to be put on hold for now. Liam, despite the time difference, consistently stayed up to chat with me. He was incredibly thoughtful, always sensing my low moods and finding ways to cheer me up. “Iris, what are you looking at?” Julian stood at the doorway, his voice low and heavy. I jumped, instinctively turning off my phone. I had been so engrossed in my chat with Liam that I hadn’t even noticed Julian opening the door. “You should knock before entering someone’s room,” I frowned. “This is my home. Why would I knock?” Julian said imperiously. Using his height advantage, he snatched my phone, trying to unlock it. “What’s the password?” Julian asked. He was so arrogant and self-centered. I didn’t have the energy to fight him for my phone. “My birthday.” Julian repeatedly entered the password, but the phone kept rejecting it, until the security system issued a warning. He sheepishly tossed the phone onto the bed. Seven years of marriage, and Julian knew nothing about my birthday. Yet, every year, I prepared for his birthday in advance, sending blessings and gifts right on time. “Don’t chat with irrelevant people.” Julian threw out this remark, then stormed out, slamming the door so hard it shook the house.

During my boring confinement in the villa, I used drawing to pass the time. Honestly, I’d always had a regret: not pursuing my passion for design further. So, during my seven years at home, whenever my hands itched, I’d sketch out design drafts. Liam sent me a set of photos. They were the winning designs from an emerging talent competition three years ago, and my work was clearly among them. A designer’s work is their heart and soul. I’d recognize a design that came from my hands even if it was reduced to ashes. Yet, the design that was clearly mine was credited to Serena Hastings. My mind instantly went blank, and a terrifying thought emerged. The information I asked Liam to check quickly arrived. It confirmed my suspicions. Serena had stolen my work to enter the competition. Three years ago, I had mysteriously lost a portfolio of my sketches. I searched high and low for half a month but found nothing and eventually gave up. And Serena was the new designer who had suddenly risen to prominence three years ago. Looking through her work from these past few years, almost all of it bore the shadow of my sketches; some were even direct copies. The thought of Serena using my hard work, wearing the crown of praise, and proudly flaunting her career success to me, made me tremble with rage. I found Serena and confronted her. Serena didn’t flinch. She placed a hand on her slightly bulging belly and said indifferently, “So what if I stole it? What if I didn’t? You were never going to use it anyway. Isn’t it a good deed to help someone else succeed?” I didn’t know how low this woman’s shamelessness could go. Serena kept shattering my perception of her. Watching me so enraged I could barely stand, Serena studied me with interest, then slowly delivered another blow: “And I didn’t steal this sketch, Julian gave it to me.” Julian gave it to Serena? The memory of Julian’s feigned concern when I was looking for my sketches made my stomach churn. Suddenly, Serena leaned close to my ear and whispered, “You should have gone to hell with your damn mother.” My mother was my raw nerve. Especially with Serena involved; if it weren’t for her back then, I wouldn’t have missed seeing my mother one last time. Burning with fury, I slapped Serena across the face. To my surprise, Serena stumbled and fell to the ground with my slap. I stared in shock at Serena, clutching her stomach on the floor, and then incredulously at my own hand. I could swear that slap was not hard enough to make Serena fall like that. Hearing the commotion, the bodyguards outside quickly rushed in to check. Julian was also alarmed and hurried upstairs. Julian pushed open the door and saw Serena, her cheek slightly swollen, lying pale on the floor, while I stood perfectly fine beside her. Without a word, he slapped me. It was a powerful slap. I guessed Julian put all his strength into it. My face snapped to the side, and my lower back hit the wooden sofa armrest hard. Sharp pain spread across my face and down my back. Julian hadn’t expected to lose control of his strength. Seeing the blood-tinged corner of my mouth, his eyes flickered. Serena noticed Julian’s hesitation and immediately began to whimper, crying out that Iris shouldn’t hit her, even if it was just for the baby’s sake. Julian stopped bothering with me, scooped Serena up, and rushed downstairs. Within moments, the room, which had just been full of people, was empty again, leaving only me. Looking at my high, swollen face in the mirror, I thought of the year my mother died. Counting today’s slap, Julian had hit me twice. The first time was that year. Back then, Serena was often unwell, running to the hospital every few days. Julian was frantic with worry. Serena told Julian she had a dream: if Iris went to a temple to pray for her, it would help her ward off a supposed curse for the year. She badgered Julian into sending me to that temple. The ritual required 49 days of continuous prayer. Normally, I might not have refused, but at the time, my mother was gravely ill—a situation where every visit counted. I pleaded with Julian to wait until my mother’s condition stabilized before sending me to pray, but he refused. Julian only said he would take care of my mother, completely disregarding a daughter’s wish to be by her dying parent’s side. Disheartened, I left for the temple. When the 49 days of prayer ended, I never got to see my mother one last time. At the funeral, Serena feigned an apology to me. My patience finally snapped. I grabbed the cup of hot water by my hand and violently threw it at her. The moment the water splashed on Serena, Julian’s hand was already raised high. He chastised me, saying I was mad with grief, treating Serena’s genuine kindness like trash. The memory overlapped with the present. I looked at the haggard woman in the mirror, my eyes filled with cold determination. The bodyguards guarding the villa were all called to the hospital to watch over a supposedly traumatized Serena. I left the house that held so much of my pain, without any resistance. As the plane soared through the clear blue sky, I quietly said goodbye to everything there. Goodbye. Never again. Julian had soothed Serena, and now he sat wearily on a bench in the hospital corridor. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw my face, red and swollen where I’d clutched it.

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My A-list actor husband and I were a picture-perfect couple, but it was all an act. In public, he adored me, even throwing punches for me when other guys got too close. Behind closed doors, he hated my guts, keeping a beautiful young mistress on the side. He wore matching wedding rings with her. He called her his “good wife.” His friends even called her, “sister-in-law.” I didn’t cry or make a fuss. I just quietly deleted the old texts where he’d promised to love me forever. We were each other’s first love, entangled for years. Until I fell ill and slowly started forgetting everything about him. That’s when he panicked. He tried to create romantic surprises for me, desperate to make me better. But he could only watch as I fell in love with someone else. It was the seventh year of my love-hate relationship with Brandon Hayes when he met the woman he truly liked. Her name was Willow Green, a budding actress fresh out of school. She was pure and sweet, and her smile reminded me so much of my younger self. Our friends said Willow was just a stand-in for me. They thought Brandon was probably just looking for something new, playing around. After all, Brandon and I had been on-again, off-again for years. Everyone had seen how a proud man like him would laugh and cry for me, how he’d bend over backwards for me. Everyone knew he loved me, loved me to the point of obsession. I suddenly remembered that night we’d broken up and gotten back together. Brandon ripped my dress, taking from me tirelessly. I was a puddle of exhaustion. In my daze, I heard him whisper in my ear, coaxing me, “Baby, we’re meant to tangle, to torment each other forever.” I used to think Brandon would never love another woman the way he loved me. But then, in our third year of marriage, our relationship shattered. And that’s when Willow appeared.

At first, Brandon despised Willow. They were on a set, playing lovers. Willow was a huge fan of Brandon’s. Every time they held hands or hugged, her face would flush, her crush obvious. Back then, Brandon and I were still good. He’d often tell me how much he disliked Willow acting like a total fan. Willow wore cartoon T-shirts, and Brandon called her childish and silly. Willow wore hot shorts, and Brandon called her so tacky. Whatever Willow did, Brandon found annoying. Yet, perhaps he didn’t even realize it himself, but every time he mentioned Willow, he was smiling. During our nightly phone calls, he slowly started to drift off. Most of the time, it was because Willow was so clueless. She’d constantly bother Brandon with all sorts of questions. Brandon would complain, but patiently answer her every time. Before we hung up, I’d ask Brandon, “Tomorrow, can we please not talk about Willow anymore?” He’d flash that mischievous grin and tease, “Are you jealous, baby?” He’d joke around with me, then block Willow’s number right then and there. Until a few days later, Willow posted something on Ins: “A passionate kiss scene, with two hearts truly moved. “Can’t sleep tonight, I’m pulling an all-nighter talking to the person I like!” That night, Brandon didn’t call me. I tried calling him, but his line was busy. I knew then, this time, Brandon was falling for Willow, playing make-believe for real.

After that night, it was like Brandon suddenly stopped loving me. We started giving each other the silent treatment. He didn’t explain, and he didn’t try to sweet-talk me into making up. For a whole month, we didn’t speak. Then, on the last day of filming, during a live interview on set. A reporter asked him, “Work’s done, what do you want to do most right now?” He pulled out his phone, showing a photo of me wearing an apron, flirting with him. He smiled gently and said, “Right now, I miss my wife the most. I want to eat her home-cooked meal.” In some ways, Brandon was my financial backer. If he didn’t love me anymore, I could just hide my true feelings, follow his lead, and make some good money. That night, I cooked a feast. But Brandon never came home. I didn’t wait up for him; I went to bed early. Then, in the middle of the night, he called me. He sounded drunk, mumbling and whining. “Wife, my sweet wife, I miss you so much. Come pick me up, please.” He hadn’t called me ‘wife’ in ages. My eyes stung, and I didn’t say a word. His buddies were hyping him up in the background: “Who’s the big star calling? Is that Willow?” They kept shouting into the phone, “Sister-in-law! Brandon wished tonight that he’d be with you forever, always…” So, Brandon had called Willow. He called her his “good wife,” and his friends called her “sister-in-law.” He had already brought Willow into his life. A sharp headache flared, and I quickly hung up, burying myself deep in my covers, pulling them tight around me. It’s fine. I could pretend not to care. My acting was always top-notch.

Word quickly spread that Brandon and I were having problems. Everyone in the industry said he’d fallen for Willow. He took her to candlelit dinners, bought her houses and cars. Sometimes he’d even rent out an entire amusement park just to ride silly carousels with her. He liked her so much, he practically wanted to give her the world. Even that ruby necklace I’d wanted so badly, the one I could never find, Brandon recently bought it. I thought he’d give it to Willow. But one morning, I woke up to find the necklace resting quietly on my bedside table. Next to it was a note that read: “Happy Anniversary.” It was Brandon’s handwriting. I silently crumpled the note and tossed it in the trash. I couldn’t understand Brandon’s intentions anymore, and I didn’t want to.

A few days later, at a private dinner party, I met Willow for the first time. She smiled as soon as she saw me. She stared at my necklace and said in a sweet, soft voice, “Mr. Hayes bought me a ton of jewelry a few days ago, but this necklace felt a bit too old for me, so I asked him to give it to you. “I just knew you, Skylar, being more mature, would look perfect in it. “Mr. Hayes always said he spoiled me like a child, and I used to argue, I mean, I’m twenty-two! “But compared to you, Skylar, I suddenly feel like I’m really too young.” I froze, suddenly feeling utterly ridiculous. My cherished anniversary gift, the one I loved so much, was just Willow’s hand-me-down. Willow saw my displeasure and smiled even sweeter. She tossed her hair and continued to gloat, “Skylar, don’t be shy about me giving you the necklace; just wear it. “Mr. Hayes buys me so many things; I can’t even wear them all. If there’s anything else you like, just tell me. Feel free to take whatever you want.” I smiled back at her, asking softly, “You’ll give it to me, just if I like it?” Willow nodded smugly. I reached out and touched the dazzling diamond earring on her ear, then suddenly pulled hard, tearing it right off. Willow screamed in pain, clutching her ear and bending over. Blood seeped through her fingers. I looked down at her, still smiling, and asked softly, “Thank you for the gift. Can I have the other earring too?”

Willow’s pupils trembled slightly, as if she was scared of me. Her blood splattered on the floor, and the people around us started to murmur. Brandon arrived shortly after. He saw the blood on the ground, and his expression turned cold and savage. He pulled me into his arms, checking me over from head to toe. The concern and tension in his eyes looked so real. Willow released her hand, letting the blood stream down her ear and drip onto her white gown. She reached for Brandon, saying softly, “Mr. Hayes, I’m in so much pain…” Brandon raised his arm, dodging her, and gave her a cold glance. That look made Willow freeze, biting her lip in humiliation. She didn’t understand. Brandon came from a wealthy family; keeping a mistress privately was one thing, but if it became public, it would be a huge scandal. In front of others, Brandon could only love me. His fingers caressed my furrowed brow, and he coaxed me gently, “Who upset you?” I didn’t speak, and no one else dared to. Two seconds later, Brandon suddenly grabbed a vase from a nearby table and smashed it on the floor, snarling, “Are you all deaf? Who upset my wife? Speak up!” The atmosphere was terribly oppressive. Willow clenched her fists, then burst out, “It was me! It was all my fault, okay, Brandon Hayes!?” She finally couldn’t hold back, her tears streaming down as she looked at Brandon defiantly, choking out, “It’s my fault for wanting to get close to Skylar but being hated by her! “It’s my fault for falling for the wrong person, willing to be called a mistress just to be with him no matter what! “It’s my fault for being delusional, thinking he liked me too, my fault for being an idiot!” She lifted the wine glass above her head and poured it over herself. The wine and blood mixed, staining the front of her dress. Crying, she asked Brandon, “Mr. Hayes, is this enough? Is your beloved wife satisfied?” Brandon’s hand tightened on my shoulder, squeezing harder and harder. He must have felt pain for her. He asked me, “Satisfied?” I chuckled, tears almost falling from my eyes. I asked Brandon, “Is it exhausting, pretending to love me? “Brandon, I have a great idea. I can make it so you can openly love whoever you want. “Give me money. Lots and lots of money. Then, we get a divorce.”

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On our fifth wedding anniversary, Liam promised me the grand wedding he’d always wanted to give me. He said he deeply regretted not giving me a ceremony back then, and that I would be the most beautiful bride. But on our wedding day, he got a text message and rushed off. I chased after him, stumbling in my heavy wedding dress. He only offered a rushed comfort: “Avery, something really important came up at work. I have to go.” His lies were pathetic, so clumsy, but I didn’t even have the energy to call him out. Because I had cancer. And I didn’t have long left. Liam didn’t know I’d received the message before he did. I was sitting in front of the vanity mirror, my phone buzzing with a SnapChat notification. I opened it to see the text: “Avery, I won’t bother your life anymore. Are you satisfied?” My heart hammered in my chest. Before I could even react, I saw Liam glance down at his phone, then his face went pale with panic, and he dashed out. He was always so composed, so in control. I’d never seen him like this. As I rushed after him, I almost tripped over my skirt, crashing into the doorframe. My knee stung, a sharp, burning pain. He didn’t even look back. He just slammed the car door shut, leaving that one flimsy excuse hanging in the air. For this wedding, I’d chosen a strapless mermaid gown, despite the chilly autumn weather. I just wanted my life to be beautiful, just once. And he left me there, alone, with all our invited family and friends. For a moment, I wanted to flee, to run away immediately. I was so exhausted. I didn’t want to deal with the mess he’d left behind. He was the one who promised me a surprise. He was the one who filled me with hope. And he was the one who abandoned me here. But I looked at their expectant faces. We weren’t a fresh young couple just going through the motions. We’d been married for years, and we’d carefully invited only our closest circle – less than six tables in total – a mix of friends and family from both sides. My old college roommates and close friends from work were sitting inside. They’d traveled from far away, just to indulge my sentimental heart. I stiffly turned, changed into something lighter, and went to greet them one by one. Liam’s buddy, Mark, joked, “You two are still playing games, huh, Avery? A wedding five years later! Don’t forget to invite us to your silver and gold anniversaries!” I smiled and promised him I would. But I knew in my heart there wouldn’t be any more anniversaries. Even if I lived that long, my marriage with Liam wouldn’t last. My best friend, Chloe, rubbed my hands. “Why are your hands so cold? And where’s Liam?” I forced a smile. “Oh! He’s busy. Work called him away again.” She squeezed my hand tight. After more than a decade, we knew each other too well. Meeting her gaze, I nearly lost it, tears threatening to spill. I didn’t want anyone to see how upset I was, but my mind was a chaotic mess. Finally, after settling everyone, I collapsed onto a chair, utterly drained, unable to say another word. Then my mom suddenly called, launching into a furious tirade: “Are you completely heartless? Your sister is dying, and you still have the nerve to throw a wedding?” I didn’t even have the strength to stand up, listening calmly as she ranted. It took me a moment to piece together what she was saying: Selena had an episode, slit her wrists on the school rooftop. It took all my effort to find my voice. “Didn’t the groom already rush off to save her? What more do you want? Should I just… kill myself to appease her? Will that make her better?” There was one more thing I didn’t say: *I don’t have long to live anyway. You’ll be satisfied soon enough.* But I didn’t want them to know. I didn’t want to see any of them in my final days. “What are you talking about? Your own husband couldn’t stand it! Your sister, who grew up with you, is dying, and you have no reaction whatsoever? How can you be so cold-blooded?” My mom continued to yell. She didn’t know that my throat was burning just from trying to speak. I choked back a cough and hung up, looking at myself in the mirror. I looked like a ghost. Whenever Selena was involved, I lost. She always won. She could effortlessly snatch everything from me, every single time. Selena was my aunt’s daughter. After my aunt and uncle died in a car accident, she came to live with us. From that day on, I heard the same line every single day: “Selena’s already so miserable! Why do you always have to fight her? Can’t you just let her have this?”

That evening, Liam came back, looking utterly exhausted. I was tending to the wound on my knee. Honestly, I was too tired to even bother, but it looked pretty bad, and even the slightest inflammation could cause me immense pain now. It could lead to further complications, widespread inflammation. I numbly continued to treat it. I actually hated pain. Every day, falling asleep was a battle. Since college, I’d suffered from severe anxiety. When it flared up, I’d vomit and suffer from insomnia, my mouth raw with acid after each bout. Liam glanced at me, then stopped midway to the bathroom to shower. He saw the bloody gash on my knee. “What happened? How did you get this? Can’t you be more careful?” I didn’t answer him, just focused on my wound. I didn’t really want to talk to him anymore. He slowly sat down beside me, reaching out to take the gauze. I looked up, my gaze cold. “Avery, I’m so sorry! Today was a real accident, please don’t be mad at me, okay?” His eyes looked so sincere. If the truth hadn’t been staring me in the face, I would have fallen for that look again. “Liam, let’s get a divorce. I’m just… so tired.” I didn’t want to look at him, dropping my gaze back to my knee. As soon as I finished bandaging it, he suddenly pressed against me, pulling me into a tight hug. Perhaps it was the panic of a guilty man. He squeezed me so tightly, he brushed against my wound. I hissed, and he slowly released me, kneeling in front of me, looking genuinely remorseful. “Avery, we’re going to have so many anniversaries. That word ‘divorce’… please don’t say it so casually. It hurts.” “Liam, this afternoon was the last bit of dignity I gave you,” I said, meeting his eyes, my gaze unblinking. He froze, then his expression contorted into one of frantic panic. “Avery, it’s not what you think, really. The situation was just too urgent, I had to rush over, but I didn’t dare tell you directly. I was just afraid you’d misunderstand, I…” Liam, for the first time, was stammering. “Liam, what are you so afraid of? Am I that terrifying? Or is it that you’re all afraid I’ll bully Selena, and now you’re afraid I’ll bully you?” I laughed, a bitter, humorless sound. “Avery, you’re too emotional right now. I don’t want to argue.” He dodged the question, retreating into the bathroom to shower. I ignored him, went into the study, and closed the door. The moment it clicked shut, I felt my hands trembling. I lay in bed, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. I was perpetually exhausted, but sleep rarely came. I only managed three or four hours a night. Honestly, I should have realized the truth a long time ago. Selena was his vibrant red rose, the indelible mark on his heart, the one he could never truly let go of. When I met Liam, he had already broken up with Selena. He never showed me photos of his ex-girlfriend. All I knew was that the relationship had caused him a lot of pain, but I never knew his ex-girlfriend was Selena. We both silently agreed not to mention it. It wasn’t until after we officially got married and went home for the winter holidays that Selena happened to be back for the holidays too. Selena was there that day, and it was the first time I saw Liam panic. A woman’s intuition told me something was terribly wrong. I wanted to ask Liam about it, but every time I brought it up, he’d cut me off, saying the past wasn’t pleasant and only brought unhappiness. And after the holidays, Selena went abroad to study the violin, which she loved. My parents even sold our house and moved to the countryside to support her. I couldn’t quite describe the feeling back then. It had always been like this, ever since I was little. Selena could take expensive music lessons, while I couldn’t even afford tutoring. I’ll never forget the look on my mom’s face when she learned Selena was continuing her studies. She was beaming with pride, saying she never imagined our family would produce a musician. Liam was beside me then. He squeezed my hand tightly and said, “In my eyes, my wife is the best.” He really was good to me. He let me look at his phone, gave me his bank cards. He was everything you’d read about online, the ‘perfect’ husband. I had a poor appetite, so he specifically learned to cook, making me dinner every day after work. In the evenings, we’d walk hand in hand. Those days were simple and pure. I thought it would last forever. Then Selena came back. She hadn’t become a famous musician. She suffered from severe depression. Her arms were crisscrossed with scars, self-inflicted with an eyebrow razor. My mom held her, sobbing uncontrollably, a complete wreck. She came to find me, her face gaunt and pale. “Avery, I regret it. Can you give Liam back to me?” The whole thing felt utterly absurd. She acted like Liam was just another one of the things I’d always given up for her – like a dress, a toy, a room, or even just a snack. She was used to me always stepping aside the moment she opened her mouth. I ignored her, simply thinking she was crazy. She had been with Liam before; she was the one who told me herself. I still remember that New Year’s Eve, fireworks bursting everywhere. For the first time, she acted really close to me, saying she wanted to watch the fireworks with me, pulling me outside. Liam stayed inside, playing cards with the older folks. Selena kept pulling me along, walking endlessly. ***截断点***

We walked so far, to a bench in a park. She pulled me down beside her and talked about the past, sighing, “Avery, I can’t believe you, who was so small back then, are married now.” I was speechless for a moment, unsure what to say. Then, she suddenly changed her tone. “Avery, you’ve always hated me, haven’t you?” “Say something!” I truly didn’t know what to say. “You hated me so much that you had to marry Liam, simply because he was once my boyfriend.” As soon as she said it, she was sobbing uncontrollably. Fireworks exploded in the sky. She leaned back against the bench, the light reflecting off her face, showing countless tears. It was the first time I’d ever seen Selena cry like that. In that instant, my hands and feet went cold. She was Liam’s ex-girlfriend? We had only been officially married for less than a month! Heaven help me, if I had known they were together, I would have run as far away as possible. But I didn’t know! Liam had come into my life, telling me how much he liked me. He had been there for me through my toughest days. “I didn’t know you two were together,” I finally managed to explain. She glanced at me, said nothing, and just walked away. A few days later, she left to pursue her music dream. Before she left, she sent me a text: “You’ve given in to me so many times. I’ll let you have this one.” I clutched that text message and had a massive fight with Liam. What did she mean, ‘let me have this’? If Liam couldn’t let her go, he should just stay with her. I’d just admit I’d chosen the wrong person. Liam yelled it was all a huge mistake, that he was being unfairly targeted. He showed me his phone. “Avery, you can’t do this to me. I don’t even have her on SnapChat. I didn’t know about your relationship.” “What would you have done if you knew about our relationship?” “I would have gotten with you sooner, hidden from her, and closed my eyes so I wouldn’t even see her.” He closed his eyes as he spoke. His antics made me laugh, and he quickly pulled me into a tight hug. In the following years, Selena genuinely didn’t appear in our lives. I even almost forgot about it. Until she finished her studies and came back, utterly exhausted, looking like a wilting rose – even more delicate and heartbreaking. Selena complained about feeling cold every day then, perhaps also because she came back in winter. My mom was so worried, it was like she’d aged years, her hair turning grayer by the day. I even introduced her to some doctors I knew. But then I saw the way Liam looked at her. I couldn’t lie to myself anymore – how could you hide that look of deep concern for someone? It felt like a needle piercing my heart, the pain so sharp it stole my breath. I confronted him. He lost his temper for the first time: “Enough, Avery! She’s already like this, what more do you want? Why are you making a scene?” His words made tears stream down my face, and he quickly rushed to comfort me. “I’m so sorry, Avery, I really didn’t mean to yell at you. We’ve been together for so many years; don’t you trust me?” I managed to push it away for a moment. All those years, all that companionship… it made me cling to a delusional dream, deceiving myself. Later, he went on a business trip to a remote area, and returned right around New Year’s. We went together to give gifts to my parents. Without me knowing anything, I watched him pull out a small bag of saffron and hand it to Selena. “Locals say this tea helps with the cold.” Then, under her astonished and grateful gaze, he produced a small good luck charm. “They say this also brings peace and protection.” I remained silent the entire time, feeling a strange sense of déjà vu, like I was back many years ago. My parents would always buy Selena a huge pile of gifts whenever they went out, while I could only watch with longing eyes, like a dog begging for scraps. On the way home, Liam tried to hold my hand, but I kept struggling. Then I noticed he’d placed a large, sparkling ring on my ring finger at some point. I was surprised. He gently pinched my cheek. “Is my little Avery getting jealous? The saffron was for your mom, she asked me to get it. And the good luck charm was just a thoughtful extra. They thought your sister was under some kind of bad influence.” “But the ring… I chose this one myself, I spent ages finding it. With me, you’ll always be safe and sound,” he said. He was always so charming when he said sweet things. I stared blankly at the massive, pigeon’s-egg-sized ruby ring. He suddenly kissed my forehead. “Avery, let’s have a wedding. I’ve always been so sorry I couldn’t give you one.” Our eyes met. In that moment, I genuinely believed that everything before was just my imagination, that he truly loved me. Suddenly, tears welled up and streamed down my face. He quickly wiped them away, asking what was wrong, his expression like a child who had made a mistake. In that moment, I desperately wanted to tell him. During his business trip, my insomnia had gotten worse, and I was vomiting constantly, feeling utterly miserable. At first, I thought it was good news, and happily went to the hospital to check. But the doctor, seeing my continuous vomiting, recommended a full body scan. When I received the diagnosis, I truly couldn’t believe it. How was this possible? I was so young. How could this be happening? I went to several more hospitals, but received the same devastating result each time. I pulled out my phone, wanting so badly to tell him, but I couldn’t calm myself. I couldn’t even face my own reality. I didn’t know who to tell, or how to say it. The doctor asked why I hadn’t come earlier. I told him it had been like this since college; I’d vomit whenever I felt anxious. He sighed. “Young people are under too much stress these days.” Back in college, my mom was funding Selena, so she literally had no money left for me. She only paid my tuition. Every day, she’d send me messages, call me, telling me to work hard, to “be realistic” about our family’s finances. Sometimes I’d get texts at six or seven in the morning, asking if I had a part-time job, if I was earning money, if I could get a scholarship. She said she was so anxious, that the family could never save money, and what would happen when they got old? I asked her why she was still funding Selena’s expensive music lessons then. She got angry and snapped, “Why are you always so petty? Why can’t you just let Selena be? She finally has a dream; shouldn’t she be supported?” “What about me?” “What more do you want? I already put you through college! Are you trying to kill me with stress?” She wanted Selena to live the life she desired, at the expense of my own survival, but she never saw that as a problem. She’d only say, “I gave birth to you, I raised you – what more do you want from me?” Every day, I worried about my living expenses, how to earn money, how to make my resume look better, how to find a higher-paying job. That’s when I met Liam. He comforted me, understood me. Later, when he started his business, I was by his side, traveling everywhere with him. To save money, we’d buy the cheapest bus tickets, spending twenty-plus hours practically standing. He bought two small stools, and we’d sit huddled together, him shielding me from the crush of the crowd. He’d whisper in my ear, “I’ll make sure you have a good life.” But now… my days are numbered.

Liam didn’t know that on the night of the wedding, as I walked past a nearby jewelry store, the name felt oddly familiar. Almost as if compelled by an unseen force, I walked in. I showed the sales associate the large red ring on my ring finger and asked about it. She was a very young sales associate, her face flushed as she spoke. “Oh, this ring? Just last Sunday evening, we were almost closing, and a gentleman rushed in right after getting off a plane to buy it for his wife.” “He must really love his wife, otherwise why would he be in such a hurry?” “Or was he in such a hurry because he’d done something wrong?” I murmured softly, not sure if I was asking her or myself. She froze, looking awkward. I turned and left. *Of course,* I thought. *That’s why he suddenly bought a ring. He bought gifts for everyone else on the way home, but forgot me. Maybe he bought it because he felt guilty, and it was an expensive way to smooth things over.* All my previous warmth and gratitude felt utterly ridiculous. Those nights, I was terrified countless times. I wanted to tell him, tell him about my illness, to find some warmth that wasn’t even there, but it was just my own wishful thinking. I lay in bed, numbly shedding tears. The door suddenly opened. Liam pinned me down, kissing my tears. “Avery, what do I have to do to make you stop overthinking?” A fierce wave of nausea surged up my throat. With a strength I didn’t know I had, I violently pushed him away, rushing to the bathroom to throw up. He looked utterly humiliated. “Avery? What are you doing? Can’t I even touch you anymore? How could you treat me like this?” I ignored him, collapsing weakly to the floor. When I finally found the strength to stand, I splashed cold water on my face. “Let’s get a divorce. I’m serious.” He tossed a tissue at me, then turned. “You’re dreaming!” I watched his back as he fled in a panic. “You will,” I muttered to myself.

I went to the hospital for a pain injection. I couldn’t even swallow pain pills anymore. Then I went directly to Selena’s hospital. I simply walked into her room and sat down. She immediately became incredibly agitated, ripping out her IV, blood gushing everywhere, and screamed at me, “Avery, what do you want? Can’t you just leave me alone?” I said nothing, just quietly peeled an orange. After finally finishing, I realized I couldn’t eat it anyway. I was already on a liquid diet. There were so many things I wanted to taste, but I couldn’t even do that. I held out the orange to her. “Want some? It should be sweet.” I wished I could taste it, even if it was sour. Selena’s agitation only intensified. She swatted the orange from my hand, sobbing uncontrollably. My mom stormed in, carrying a takeout bag – a meal for Selena. The dishes looked eerily familiar, but I didn’t have time to dwell on it. She raised her hand and slapped me across the face. “What did Selena do to you? Why do you keep hounding her?” My nose started bleeding, a steady stream. I just looked at the blood on the floor, saying nothing, then stood and walked out of the room. My mom chased after me, wanting to say something. Finally, she grabbed my arm. “Avery, what’s wrong? Are you getting sick? Why have you lost so much weight lately?” “What’s it to you?” “I’m your mother!” she snapped. “Oh, really? I don’t believe you,” I said, a smile breaking through my tears. My tears came too. But she cried even louder than me. “I’m your mom, what do you want me to do? Can’t you try to understand me, too?” “I named you Avery – ‘knowing intent’ – you used to be so understanding, so considerate when you were little. What happened to you now?” I couldn’t listen anymore. Perhaps it was from eating so little, but my head was spinning. I fled the hospital like a ghost. But as long as Liam didn’t sign the divorce papers, I would keep coming back here. Let’s just torment each other.

Liam rushed back. I was staring at the mushy, overcooked porridge, my head aching from the sheer effort of trying to swallow it. I’d managed a few spoonfuls, but threw them all up. I drank some sugar water, forcing it down. “Avery, what exactly are you doing?” He struggled to keep his voice low, trying to control his anger. “Could you cook me a bowl of noodles?” Liam was an excellent cook; his noodles were especially delicious. But he hadn’t cooked in ages. I couldn’t remember if it was because he was too busy with work or for some other reason. I had been on a liquid diet for so many days, drinking everything through a straw. For some reason, I just really wanted noodles—the kind Liam made. I’d tried many restaurants, but none tasted like his. I knew I wouldn’t be able to swallow them, but just smelling them would be enough. “She’s already in such a state, please, just leave her alone, okay?” he pleaded. His words were like a knife, twisting raw in my bleeding heart. I remembered back when our love was at its peak, I’d told him he was my closest confidant. I truly believed that then, but I never expected that period of closeness to be so brief. “Divorce me? Then I won’t go near her.” I insisted stubbornly. “You’re utterly unreasonable!” Infuriated, he turned and left, the door slamming shut behind him. Liam once said he’d never let me regret marrying him. But I did regret it. I also couldn’t understand why I wanted a divorce so badly when I only had a few days left anyway. But every time I thought about those days, it made me sick. Do people really change so suddenly? How could he do this to me? How could he? Why did I lay my heart bare only to have it trampled on? They all seemed to delight in crushing me. Can’t I just… escape? I insisted on visiting Selena every day. Anyone who didn’t know us would truly think we had a deep sisterly bond. And then I finally realized whose food she was eating. Selena caught my gaze on her food and challenged me, a taunting glint in her eyes. “Want some? Liam made it. It’s the only thing I can stomach these days.” For the first time, I almost lost it right there in front of her. I hadn’t even left the hospital when Liam called. His voice was laced with irritation. “Avery, please stop this. Selena is sick.” “Divorce me! Then I’ll stop,” I replied, repeating the same words. I reached the crosswalk, a desperate urge to just… step in front of a car. But then a thought flashed through my mind: that wouldn’t be fair to anyone. Everyone’s struggling. I couldn’t just create more trouble for others, even in death. I stepped back, watching the teeming crowds, cars rushing by. My mind was filled with images of Liam cooking for Selena. The irony was suffocating. He always looked so tired, and I’d always been considerate, learning to cook his favorite dishes and waiting for him to come home, even when I couldn’t eat anything myself. I understood his exhaustion, yet he was painstakingly preparing nutritious meals for Selena every day. Liam, how could you? If I had the time, I would take him to court, fight him tooth and nail. But I only had my final days left. Perhaps fate intervened, or maybe Selena finally cracked. That day, I went to see Selena again. We stood at the stairwell, arguing. I envied her how easily she could yell, how much energy she had. My mom had called Liam, and Selena was crying, her face wet with tears. “I really don’t want to see you. Just die!” I remained silent. She reached out and grabbed my arm, shaking me violently. “What do you want?” I turned to look at Liam, my intention clear. Selena was incredibly agitated. She tugged at me, lost her balance, and almost fell down the stairs. Then I saw Liam rush forward in a panic, catching her. I tumbled down the stairs. At the landing, there were some glass shards. I put my hand out to break my fall. *CRASH!* The glass shattered. My white sweater was soaked with blood, my arm covered in glass fragments. There were some on my face too. I must have looked terrible, so ugly. I hadn’t looked good in a long time. I couldn’t even bear to look in a mirror. I was so ugly! Liam rushed down, his voice frantic. “What happened? How did you get like this?” Blood stained my sweater red. Liam tried to pick me up, but I pushed against his chest, fighting back my tears. “Will you divorce me? Please? If you divorce me, I won’t come here anymore.” “I promise I won’t bother you two again.” “Please, divorce me?” I truly didn’t have much time left. I couldn’t afford to wait, I couldn’t delay, and I didn’t want to see Selena. Even more, I didn’t want to see my mom, clucking protectively over Selena like a mother hen.

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I Died. Then I Saw Everything. The day I died, my boyfriend brought his first love home. They kissed shamelessly on the sofa I bought, ate the special savory dumplings I’d made, and played on the gaming console I’d given him. One day, his first love, Celeste, asked curiously, “Where’s Anya?” Dorian’s voice was calm, “She got into an argument with me a few days ago, then applied for a business trip.” Oh, he still didn’t know I was dead. On Dorian’s birthday, I was in a car accident on my way back, and I died on the spot. My soul floated above, wanting to see Dorian one last time. Just then, I saw Dorian bring his first love, Celeste, back to *our* home. In the dim light, Celeste’s fair face was flushed, as if she were deeply drunk, clinging to Dorian, her body limp against his. “Dorian, Dorian…” He steadily held her waist, brushed away her messy hair, and patiently responded to her every call. Dorian, usually so distant, reserved that tenderness only for her. Seeing this, even though I was prepared, my heart still ached. Ever since Dorian found out about Celeste’s divorce, he’d been distracted, coming home less and less, growing colder towards me. I’d found out that Celeste’s ex-husband’s company had gone bankrupt, and he’d fled with the money. Celeste only discovered she was pregnant after the divorce, and debt collectors hounded her daily, scaring her into multiple near-miscarriages. Dorian had been with her at the hospital all these days. I argued with Dorian because he wanted to bring Celeste home to care for her. “Celeste’s parents once helped me out. I can’t not help her.” My eyes were red, “Is that the only reason?” Dorian was silent for a moment, then suddenly extinguished his cigarette. “I promised I’d marry you.” “Anya, what exactly are you so insecure about?” What was I insecure about? Dorian knew, deep down, but he pretended not to. That night, I suddenly lost control, and for the first time, I suggested we break up. Dorian’s face grew darker. Without a word, he carried me into the bathroom, turning on the shower. “Do you know what you just said?” I trembled, hugging myself, his tall shadow looming over me. He ripped off my shirt buttons, almost punishingly biting my lips. “Anya, never talk about breaking up with me.” Cold water poured over my head, his hot breath grazed my neck, and his face blurred before my eyes. “Celeste is only staying for a while. Once the police find her ex-husband, I’ll send her back.” He whispered close to my ear, “There’s really no future for her and me.” I gasped for breath, struggling, closing my eyes and threatening, “To get me to agree, I’d have to be dead.” And then, I really died. Dorian really brought Celeste back.

I watched Dorian place the drunken Celeste on the sofa and wipe her face with a hot towel. “…You’re pregnant. You shouldn’t drink so much.” He spoke in a low voice, yet his tone was gentle, just like he used to scold her for not paying attention in class. Celeste didn’t seem to hear, muttering about a headache. Dorian chuckled softly, helping her up, his long fingers pressing gently on her forehead, from her brow to her temples, then behind her ears. It was a tender scene, and my heart tightened, as if it had stopped for a few seconds, then furiously started beating again. For a moment, I was lost in thought. Back when we’d just graduated college, Dorian’s grandmother passed away. And Celeste’s parents, due to Dorian’s family background, refused to let them be together, forcing Celeste into an arranged marriage. During those six gloomy months, I stayed by Dorian’s side, helping him through it all, little by little. Six months later, he accepted my confession. Later, he decided to start his own business and often went out for drinks. I would clean him up, cook him hangover soup, and take care of him all night long. The next day, my eyes would be dark, looking utterly exhausted. Dorian would gaze at me for a long time, sigh, and then have me lay my head on his lap, massaging my temples. I was a little overwhelmed, yet the gentle pressure was so comforting that I started acting playfully. “Dorian, you’re not allowed to massage anyone else’s head, okay?” As soon as I said it, I regretted it. Just as I was about to backtrack, I heard Dorian chuckle softly above me: “Okay.” He said, “Okay.” But. Of course, Celeste wasn’t “anyone else.” I was just a sudden exception for Dorian, while she was, and always had been, his preference.

Suddenly, I felt like I should leave this place. I couldn’t even stand watching Dorian massage Celeste. What if they rekindled their old flame one day? What if they hugged? Kissed? What if… The thought alone sent a searing pain through my chest, like ants crawling up my spine, making me restless. I frantically ran towards the door. But the moment I touched it, a sudden, tearing pain shot through me, even worse than the car crash, worse than being smashed to pieces after falling from a cliff. I couldn’t even scream. My body was yanked back. After several attempts, my face was ashen white, drenched in cold sweat, and I finally realized something— I couldn’t leave this house. Or rather, I couldn’t leave Dorian. Instantly, all my strength left me. I numbly continued to watch the two of them. Dorian had finished massaging Celeste and was about to leave when a hand hooked around his neck. Celeste opened her eyes. Their eyes met. “Dorian, do you still like me?” Celeste asked directly. Dorian stared into her eyes. “I hate you.” Celeste’s face paled. His palm rested on her cheek, his thumb tracing her skin inch by inch, as if with a sigh, “But I’ve also never forgotten you.” I curled my lips mockingly. A smile bloomed across Celeste’s face, lighting up her eyes. Then, as if she suddenly thought of something, her gaze flickered, “What about Anya? She’s been with you for five years. What do you feel for her?” Dorian paused, parting his lips, but said nothing. The atmosphere suddenly fell silent. Celeste’s expression subtly shifted, her eyes scrutinizing him. The next second, she tilted her neck slightly and kissed the corner of his lips. Dorian’s body stiffened noticeably, but only for a moment. He quickly took control, his large hand scooping her waist to pull her onto his lap, his fingers clasping the back of her head, deepening the kiss. A wave of nausea instantly rushed to my head. I clamped my hand over my mouth, afraid my churning stomach would rise into my chest. “Dorian, he’s already abandoned me. Don’t you abandon me. I don’t want to be alone.” Celeste gasped for breath, pleading against his lips. “I know you only feel gratitude and guilt for her; the one you truly love is me…” Celeste’s kiss moved to his collarbone, pausing slightly, then her hand reached for the buttons of his shirt— Dorian suddenly pressed down on her hand. “No.” His voice was cold and deep, his eyes equally frigid. A chill emanated from him, spreading outwards, making even my soul, which felt no temperature, shiver. Celeste stared at him blankly, as if she hadn’t expected to be rejected. “Is it because of Anya that—” I stared at him blankly too, my heart pounding uncontrollably and wildly. Dorian was silent for a while, then lowered his eyes, his expression unreadable. “Celeste, I have a girlfriend right now.” “This isn’t good for you.” Celeste understood, and the corners of her lips curled up slightly. “I’ll wait for you.” I understood too, and laughed mockingly. Dorian meant that as long as we hadn’t broken up, he and Celeste wouldn’t cross any substantial lines. This wasn’t about his character, nor was it out of respect for me, his official girlfriend. He just didn’t want Celeste to bear any stain or moral condemnation. He cherished and protected her so much. Laughing, large tears began to fall.

After tucking Celeste into bed, Dorian went to the balcony to smoke alone. He stood tall and refined, his body almost merging with the night, only the glow of his cigarette tip shining faintly. His face was almost expressionless, his thumb repeatedly rubbing the cigarette, which meant he was extremely agitated. I was forced to hover less than two meters away from him, watching him coldly. He and the woman he loved had already confessed their feelings for each other; I didn’t know why he was still agitated. Oh, right, we hadn’t broken up yet. Perhaps it was because of what happened earlier, unfulfilled desire. I thought. Suddenly, his phone chimed. Dorian almost immediately opened his phone, his deep, dark eyes fixed on the screen. The next second, a hint of disappointment flickered in his eyes. My curiosity piqued. I floated behind him, shamelessly peeking at his screen. What I saw made me freeze— Dorian had opened his SnapChat chat with *me*. Since that big argument, we hadn’t contacted each other. The last chat message was from me: “Comrade Dorian’s birthday is in seven days! What gift do you want?” Perhaps he was too busy with work that day, or perhaps he was taking care of Celeste at the hospital, but he hadn’t replied. Now, Dorian’s fingers unconsciously scrolled up and down, refreshing SnapChat, as if doing so would make a message appear from the other side. I wasn’t sure how to react. In a daze, Dorian had already sent a SnapChat message. Dorian: “It’s eleven-thirty.” In an instant, I understood his reminder. It was 11:30 PM. His birthday was almost over. I, his girlfriend, who hadn’t missed his birthday for five years, who always cooked him longevity noodles and vegetable potstickers, hadn’t even wished him a happy birthday this year. But I wouldn’t anymore. Never again. Because I was already dead.

Dorian stood on the balcony for a full thirty minutes. When he returned to the living room, shrouded in a chilling aura, his face was already grim. He stared at his phone screen for two more seconds, then irritably tossed it onto the sofa. His long strides carried him to the fridge, where he pulled out a bag of the vegetable potstickers I had made last time but hadn’t eaten, specially freezing them. He thawed the potstickers with a blank expression, cooked them, then sat at the dining table, head bowed, eating them slowly and deliberately, one by one. The hazy grey smoke curled around his brow bone, making him appear even more distant and cold. Watching him quietly eat the potstickers, a thought suddenly popped into my head. Dorian… he probably cared about me a little. I was surprised, then it dawned on me. Actually, strictly speaking, today wasn’t Dorian’s real birthday. Dorian’s actual birthday was a week ago. But five years ago, on that very day, Dorian’s grandmother passed away, and Celeste also left him. From then on, Dorian didn’t want to celebrate his birthday. It was my idea to move his birthday back a week. And it was always me, relentlessly enthusiastic, who would arrange his birthday celebrations. I was an orphan. At the orphanage, my birthday was the happiest day of the year. I just wanted him to be a little happier too. The first time I celebrated his birthday, I secretly spent months learning a game he loved to play. I planned to stay up all night playing with him, but I fell asleep on his lap at 2 AM. When I woke up, Dorian was above me, arms crossed, his usually stoic eyes curved in a half-smile, “All-nighter, huh?” The second time, I cooked a huge dinner table, cutting several of my fingers, and only the longevity noodles and vegetable potstickers were edible. Dorian ate everything, though, and even he, usually so quiet, praised the potstickers several times. I was always one to seize an opportunity, so I puffed out my chest, “Your heart isn’t good, and these potstickers are my special recipe, packed with ingredients that are good for your heart, so I studied really hard to get the perfect shape and taste.” Dorian looked at me for a long time then. “Anya, why are you so good to me?” I smiled, “Because I like you! I really, really like you.” Before I could confess more, Dorian cupped my jaw and leaned in to kiss me. Dorian always hid his emotions, but that was the first time I felt such an overt, intense emotion from him. Then we tumbled into bed. That night, we were both so clumsy, exploring each other. But later, he seemed to become a natural, his hands gripping my waist, his deep, dark eyes reflecting my tear-stained face. He was silent but fierce, late into the night. But it turns out, my stubborn persistence worked. The third and fourth times I celebrated his birthday, Dorian just went along with it. It made me think that five years of devoted care and constant companionship must have left some mark on his heart.

A “clink” brought my wandering thoughts back. Dorian seemed to be lost in thought too, not even noticing the spoon that had fallen to the floor. I instinctively leaned down to pick it up, but my non-corporeal hand passed right through the spoon. I froze for a moment. Then the spoon was picked up by another hand. “What are you eating?” Celeste’s soft voice filled the room. I spread my palms, looking at these hands that were growing fainter, almost unable to solidify, then looked at Celeste’s long, fair hands. Suddenly, I felt a pang of insecurity. My hands used to be beautiful before I died. Now I could cook a full meal, effortlessly complete games, but now I couldn’t even touch anything. “What flavor are these dumplings? They smell so strange.” Celeste picked up another spoon and slowly stirred the dumplings in Dorian’s bowl. Dorian’s brow furrowed slightly, but he still replied, “Vegetable.” Celeste nodded indifferently, then looked up at Dorian, “Why did Anya say today was your birthday?” Dorian flinched. Celeste smiled candidly, “Your phone was on the sofa just now, I glanced at your chat history.” Then she added, “I can’t believe your lock screen password hasn’t changed, 0802, the day we first met.” Dorian looked down, and I couldn’t see the expression in his eyes. My heart still twisted slightly. I used to playfully ask Dorian to change his lock screen password to the day we got together, but he always refused. It was because of her, after all. “Hurry, answer my question. Why did Anya say today was your birthday?” I stared coldly at Celeste. Dorian had promised me that this was a secret between just me and him, that he wouldn’t tell anyone— “A lot of bad things happened on that day five years ago, so she suggested postponing my birthday by a week, finding ways to celebrate it for me.” His familiar voice was as low and calm as ever. I bit down hard on my tongue, a bitter, metallic taste welling up and spreading through my mouth. Suddenly, I wanted to laugh, at myself. Celeste was silent for a moment. “She really was good to you.” “These dumplings are hers too? Made specifically for your birthday?” “Yes.” “You rushed me to sleep just to eat these? To keep a promise with her?” Dorian didn’t answer. Silence settled. Celeste quickly scooped up a dumpling, then suddenly said, “I want to eat it.” “No!” I screamed, a desperate, raw sound. No one heard me. I reached out to grab her spoon. I couldn’t touch it. Dorian’s gaze darkened. He grabbed her wrist, warning softly, “Celeste.” Celeste stared into his eyes, repeating each word, “I want to eat it.” “Dorian, from now on, I’ll be with you for every one of your birthdays.” She was forcing him to choose. Dorian’s jawline tightened, a flicker of struggle in his dark eyes. After what felt like an eternity, he slowly released Celeste’s hand. Celeste ate the dumpling, as she wished. I watched, numb, tears endlessly spilling from my eyes. It felt like knives carving into my heart, tearing flesh, bleeding profusely. This wasn’t just about dumplings. This wasn’t just about dumplings. These past few days, I’d hovered in the corner, watching them indifferently, feeling as though all emotion had left me. But I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination, after that incident, Dorian’s attitude towards Celeste seemed much colder. Aside from playing games together, he had no other intimate gestures with Celeste, even deliberately avoiding her touch. One day, Celeste suddenly asked, “I always forgot to ask, where’s Anya?” Dorian paused, his voice calm, “She got into an argument with me a few days ago, then applied for a business trip.” Celeste laughed, “So many days without contact, maybe she already wanted to break up with you.” Dorian’s eyes darkened, utterly certain: “Impossible.” As he spoke, he instinctively pulled out his phone, looking at his chat with me. A rare hint of unease and anxiety appeared between his brows. Oh, he still didn’t know I was dead. I suddenly became curious about his reaction when he did find out. The next day, Dorian received a package from me. —It was the engagement ring he’d given me. A month ago, Dorian and I were at a restaurant. Halfway through the meal, the man sitting opposite me suddenly stood up, pulled out a ring without warning, and knelt on one knee.

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I was the real daughter of the Miller family, swapped at birth. The first thing I did when I returned to the Millers was to give my biological parents two choices. “Give me two hundred thousand, and I’ll cut ties with you. I leave. Or, Isabella leaves within twenty-four hours, and I stay.” My biological parents found me while I was working odd jobs at my foster parents’ diner. Someone bumped into my shoulder on the way to serving a customer soup, and the hot liquid splashed all over my leg. The porcelain bowl shattered on the floor with a loud crash. My foster mother, Brenda, who was binge-watching a show on her phone and munching on chips at the counter, heard the commotion. She rushed over and slapped me across the face. “I must’ve committed some sin in my past life to have a jinx like you!” she spat. My face and leg stung. Just as she muttered curses and raised her hand for a second slap, an enraged voice stopped her cold: “Stop! Who gave you permission to lay a hand on my daughter!”

After the doctor treated my burns, Victoria, my biological mother, clutched my hand tightly. She had been crying since she first hugged me on the way to the hospital. Richard, my biological father, stood by, constantly comforting her, his eyes filled with guilt as he looked at me, occasionally handing his wife a fresh tissue. Victoria sniffled, “It’s all… it’s all our fault. If only we had arrived a little sooner, you wouldn’t have been hurt.” Victoria’s hand felt warm, making my palm sweat. Just like her embrace, it was intensely warm. And she smelled really nice. Maybe it was her overwhelming perfume, but the burning sensation on my leg seemed to fade significantly on the way over. I turned my face away from her, pulling my hand free without hesitation. “You can both leave. I’m a little tired.” “Hazel…” Victoria tried to say something more, but Richard stopped her, leading her out of the room. I watched them walk out of the hospital room, my gaze fixed on Victoria’s tightly clenched hand. In it, she held a strand of my hair, which she’d subtly plucked when she hugged me. My scalp had stung when she pulled it, but I had to pretend not to notice a thing. She was trying to be clever, but it wasn’t exactly rocket science.

Half a month passed, and Richard and Victoria came together to pick me up and take me back to the Miller family home. During those two weeks, they had been incredibly diligent in their visits. Victoria, especially, acted as if she wanted to move into the hospital with me. Victoria constantly introduced me to the Miller family members, telling me I had two older brothers and an older sister. An older sister? Before they even found me, I already had the Millers all figured out. After all, I was the one who had that paternity test delivered to their doorstep. The Millers only had one daughter. The so-called sister was Isabella, the girl they had raised for seventeen years. Isabella, huh. What a precious name. A smile involuntarily curved on my lips. Victoria thought I was happy to hear about them and went on to talk about the three siblings. It was always her talking, and me staying silent. She asked about my life for the past seventeen years, and I remained silent. But when she mentioned how excited my two brothers were to meet me and how well they would treat me, I finally spoke. My eyes lit up as I looked at her, asking with a mix of anticipation and caution, “R-really?” Liam Hayes had never been stingy with his praise for my acting skills. Watching Victoria’s delighted expression, I wholeheartedly agreed. She smiled, and I mirrored her, my fingertips unconsciously tracing the blanket covering me. If they truly welcomed me, why hadn’t they bothered to show their faces even once in two weeks?

The car pulled up to the villa, which was shrouded in darkness. Richard and Victoria led me inside. The lock clicked, the lights flickered on, and party poppers went off. Inside, a girl in a pink dress, holding a cake with a radiant smile, cheerfully announced, “Welcome home, Hazel!” She was flanked by two guys. The one on her left had a gentle smile as he looked at me, saying, “Welcome, little sister.” The one on her right looked completely bored. As if sensing it, Isabella subtly tugged at Blake’s sleeve. Blake’s voice was ice-cold. “Welcome.” Richard’s face instantly darkened, and he bit out, barely suppressing his rage, “Blake!” Victoria quickly stepped in to play peacemaker, linking her arm through mine. “Hazel, Isabella knew you were coming home today. She organized this welcome party especially for you.” I offered a faint smile, letting Victoria guide me towards Isabella. I mumbled a “thank you,” but my hand had a mind of its own. In one swift motion, I *accidentally* flipped the cake, sending a tidal wave of frosting splattering all over Isabella’s pristine new dress. The entire Miller family’s expressions soured. Blake, quick as a flash, pulled Isabella behind him, glaring at me with malice. “What the hell are you doing?!” he roared. Isabella cowered behind him, her beautiful eyes, wide and innocent, filling with tears. Honestly, her looks definitely took after my foster mother, Brenda. Their eyes were strikingly similar – those innocent, tear-filled eyes, designed to make anyone pity her. And her acting? Not bad at all. I met Blake’s gaze, a taunting smirk on my face. “She stole seventeen years of my life. Isn’t it perfectly natural for me to hate her?” Victoria seemed surprised by my attitude. In the hospital, I’d always smiled sweetly whenever Isabella was mentioned. “What does this have to do with Isabella? She didn’t intentionally get swapped! She’s innocent! Why do you hate her so much?!” Blake yelled. I shot back, “Her innocence has nothing to do with me.” “Besides, who said I hate *her*?” I stepped closer, closing the distance between us. “The one who messed up the baby tags, causing the mix-up all those years ago… wasn’t that you?” Blake stumbled backward in shock, dragging Isabella with him. They both lost their footing and tumbled to the ground in a heap. I burst out laughing, completely unmasked. When I accidentally watched a show once, I utterly despised the older brother character. Now that it was happening to me, this brother was even more insufferable. **截断点**

“Isabella…” Victoria immediately released my hand and rushed to help her up, frantically checking her for injuries. Isabella’s chin had hit Blake, and it was bright red. Leaning on Victoria, she whined pitifully, “Mom, it hurts… I think my mouth is bleeding.” Blake scrambled to his feet and immediately apologized to his sister. Daniel, who hadn’t spoken until now, looked at me, a frown creasing his brow. “You went too far.” The Miller family was in chaos, and I watched the scene unfold. Victoria anxiously told Isabella to open her mouth so she could check. Blake was fumbling around, apologizing profusely. Daniel had run off to another room, phone to his ear, calling for a doctor. A strange discomfort stirred within me. Maybe it was Victoria’s excessive care for me in the hospital, and I was somehow swayed by it. Kindness can be a powerful, insidious weapon. It cuts deep. The ancients were truly wise. Richard suddenly spoke, “Hazel, I know you’ve suffered. But Blake’s right, Isabella is innocent. You can’t let your resentment…” I knew Richard had been investigating my past life while I was hospitalized, and I had shown him exactly what I wanted him to see. The Dawsons, my foster family, were incredibly old-fashioned, always favoring boys. My life had been tough from a young age. My foster father, Frank, was an alcoholic and abusive, and my foster mother, Brenda, had been cruel to me since I was a child. I was constantly mocked and ostracized at school. Richard had uncovered all of this, and he had kept it from Victoria. I cut him off before he could finish, formally calling him, “Mr. Miller.” “Give me two hundred thousand, and I’ll cut ties with you. I leave. Or, Isabella leaves within twenty-four hours, and I stay.” Victoria stopped her movements, her eyes wide with surprise as she looked at me. She quickly said, “How can you say that?! Hazel, you and Isabella are both my daughters!” I ignored her, continuing my negotiation with Richard. “I’m still underage, so you have a responsibility to support me. You never raised me for the past seventeen years. Two hundred thousand for a clean break is pocket change for the Millers. It’s a very good deal for you.” After all, Isabella’s monthly allowance was more than two hundred thousand. Richard’s gaze was fixed on me, and he asked seriously, “In your eyes, is this just a transaction between us? Do you think we’ll always favor Isabella?” I shrugged. Some people always think they’re the epitome of fairness. 5 (Continued) I walked out of the Miller’s villa. Richard and Victoria didn’t want me to leave, but I stated clearly: if Isabella was in, I was out. Blake wanted to explode, but he crumbled the moment his eyes met mine, a flicker of guilt crossing his eyes. I gave Richard the address of my small apartment, telling him to let me know his decision. Seeing my insistence, Richard told Daniel to make sure I got home safely. Daniel agreed, but by the time he opened the car door, I had already walked far away. He quickly chased after me, but I shook him off in no time. After all, I’d walked alone at night plenty of times. A girl always had to be careful, especially then. I was pretty good at losing people. Of course, except for Liam. But he used to say I was brilliant, that my safety awareness was too good, making me hard to catch. The night wind was cool as I walked along, guided by the streetlights. Thinking of Isabella’s smile, I impulsively plucked a flower from a roadside planter. I tore at it as I walked, grinding the petals between my fingers until the sap stained my hands and it was nothing but a mangled mess. I hated Isabella. When she smiled, it was like something out of a fairy tale: sunshine, sweet candy, a beacon of light. She wore pristine dresses, vibrant and lively, and would sweetly flirt with her brothers, father, and mother. Every beautiful word in the world could describe her. I was different. I was rotten to the core, my very bones steeped in bitterness. The perfect villainess from a story — that was me. The moment I saw her eyes, I thought of my foster mother, Brenda Dawson. I thought of her smiling as she snatched my favorite doll and threw it into the furnace, holding me back so I couldn’t save it. I thought of her pushing me into the living room after my foster father got drunk, hiding in her room, listening to my cries as he beat me, punch after punch. I thought of her grabbing my backpack, searching for the scholarship money I’d just received from school, and then stepping on my textbooks on her way out. I thought of her slapping me across the face when she saw the medicine I bought for my foster sister, telling me I was wasting money. I thought of her casually saying, “If she dies, she dies…” They say love extends to everything associated with it, but so does hatred. It can implicate others.

“What’s my little witch thinking about? You don’t look too happy.” A teasing voice broke through my thoughts. As I stepped out of the villa complex, I saw someone leaning against a small scooter parked nearby, their eyes fixed on me. I hurried over, taking in the scooter’s pink finish, adorned with several Doraemon stickers. “Manly pink?” I chuckled, looking at Liam Hayes, then feigned a look of grave disappointment. “The great Young Master Hayes, riding a scooter? That’s really falling from grace!” Liam gave me a gentle flick on the forehead, stopping my dramatic act. I glared at him, annoyed, grinding my teeth. “Ow! That hurt, you jerk!” Liam rubbed my forehead, which actually didn’t hurt anymore, and chuckled. “A jerk’s girlfriend is just as much of a jerk, right?” “Who’s your girlfriend?” I glared at him! “Your future is already sealed with me. You think you can run off with some other guy?” He smiled, spreading his hands helplessly, two shallow dimples appearing on his cheeks. I rolled my eyes dramatically. If looks could kill, Liam would have been six feet under eight hundred times since I met him. But now… I thought about it. I wouldn’t want to. Liam noticed my hands stained with flower sap. He pulled out a pack of wet wipes from his pocket and meticulously cleaned them. Then, he gently put a helmet on my head. It was black, with ‘Cool’ sprayed in white paint on the top, looking absolutely awesome. When my foster brother used to watch TV as a kid, I’d sometimes catch glimpses. That kid, Noby, had a robot cat by his side. Doraemon’s magic pocket could always pull out amazing gadgets to help Noby. I looked up Liam’s jawline. His eyes were serious. Liam didn’t have Doraemon’s magic. He couldn’t conjure up amazing gadgets or change the things I had hated and tried to escape for years. But when did Liam become *my* Doraemon?

His pink helmet had two fluffy ears, and I couldn’t resist reaching up on my tiptoes to pinch them. We were suddenly very close. Then, I heard an angry shout from behind us, “What are you doing?!” I turned around to see Daniel, who had rushed out, looking furious, like he’d caught us doing something scandalous. Oops. Our little flirtation had taken a bit too long. Daniel’s eyes were wide and bulging, just like my hateful foster father when he was angry. I patted Liam’s shoulder, ignoring Daniel. “Let’s go.” Liam smoothly hopped onto the scooter, and I quickly followed. Daniel yelled at Liam, “Young Master Hayes! My sister is still young! Isn’t it inappropriate to lead her into an early relationship and have her stay out late at night?!” It wasn’t surprising that Liam and Daniel, both from wealthy families, knew each other. But I thought about Daniel saying “late night” and checked my phone. 8:30 PM. For a night owl like me, the night was just beginning. Had the young master of a rich family started living such a healthy lifestyle so early? It didn’t seem to be working, though. I glanced at Daniel’s hair. Even with his bangs covering his hairline, I could see a hint of the edge. Hmm… a little bald. Liam turned his head to look at him, raising an eyebrow coolly. “Sister? Not necessarily! When did Young Master Daniel’s brain go bad enough for him to claim sisters and meddle in my Hazel’s business?” He paused, seemed to assess Daniel for a moment, then nodded seriously. “Our Hayes family’s private hospital has pretty good neurologists. I can introduce you to one if you like. Oh, and our doctors are also excellent at hair transplants.” Liam must be a mind-reader. He knew exactly what I was thinking. I clung to Liam’s shirt, not even trying to stifle my laughter. His words were sharp, and I’d experienced them many times before. Daniel’s expression looked like he was ready to eat someone, and he was about to rush forward to pull me off the scooter. Liam twisted the throttle, and the scooter whirred, speeding away at 25 mph, leaving Daniel far behind. From where I was, the distance wasn’t *that* far, but Daniel wouldn’t be able to catch up on foot. All the way, Liam hummed a happy tune. I listened to his off-key singing, “Riding my beloved little donkey, I’ll never be stuck in traffic…” Liam’s speaking voice was pleasant, but his singing was dreadful, always tormenting my ears. Using his body to shield myself from the wind, I said, “Liam, you won’t go bald that fast too, will you?” A bald boyfriend… I imagined Liam’s handsome face with a receding hairline, and I shivered involuntarily. “Maybe we should just break up while we’re ahead!” “No way!” Liam’s gritted voice pierced through the wind. “No one in the Hayes family has that balding gene.” He said that, but later, when we officially started dating, I noticed his shampoo bottles – every single one was for hair growth and strengthening. The next afternoon, Richard appeared outside my small apartment door. The apartment was tiny; Richard struggled to find a place to stand when he entered. At that moment, I had just finished bathing Buddy.

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My fiancée, Vanessa, embezzled five million dollars from my private fund. Even worse, I discovered she and Jason, the company’s project manager, had been secretly having an affair for ages, plotting to take over *everything* I owned! Three years of my life, my love, reduced to nothing but a meticulously planned scam! “Where’s my money?” I kicked open her office door. “Oh, *that*.” Vanessa dismissed it with a wave of her hand. “Jason’s project needed some quick funds. I just made a temporary transfer.” “Temporary transfer? Five million is just a ‘temporary transfer’ to you?” “Aren’t we practically family? Why are you being so difficult?” She actually sounded righteous. “Family? Does ‘family’ cheat on each other behind their backs?” I slammed photos of her and Jason at a hotel onto the desk. Vanessa’s face went white, but she quickly composed herself. “What’s there to explain? Jason and I have a purely professional relationship.” “Professional relationship that requires sharing a bed?” Looking at the woman I once loved deeply, my rage boiled like molten lava. Three years of tenderness and care, all just an act! She treated me like an ATM, used my love as a bargaining chip!

Today was supposed to be a regular Wednesday, until I saw that gaping hole in the financial report. Five million dollars, gone. “Mark!” I yelled for my assistant. Mark rushed in, his hands shaking. “Mr. Blake…” “Where did the five million from the Orion Fund go?” I slammed the report onto the desk. “It was… it was approved by Ms. Vanessa,” Mark stammered. “She approved what? That’s my private fund!” My voice shot up an octave. “Ms. Vanessa said… she said it was a temporary transfer…” “Temporary transfer?” I stood up immediately. “What right does she have to touch my money?” Mark flinched, taking a step back. “Mr. Blake, I was just following Ms. Vanessa’s instructions…” “Get out!” Vanessa, my fiancée, was also the CEO of Skyline Investments. We’d been engaged for three years, with plans to marry next month. Now, it looked like that wedding was on hold. I stormed straight into her office. Vanessa was putting on makeup. When she saw me kick open the door, the lipstick in her hand clattered to the floor. “Where’s my money?” I walked to her desk, leaning my hands on the surface. “What money?” Her eyes darted around. “Don’t play dumb! The five million from the Orion Fund!” My voice was so loud the entire office could probably hear me. Vanessa stood up, straightening her clothes. “Lower your voice. What will people think?” “I *want* everyone to hear!” I pointed at her. “Why did you touch my money?” “Oh, *that*,” Vanessa said dismissively. “Jason’s project needed some working capital, so I made a temporary transfer. It’ll be back next week.” “Temporary transfer?” I scoffed. “Five million is just a ‘temporary transfer’ to you?” “Aren’t we family?” Vanessa started to sound annoyed. “Why are you being so particular? Don’t you trust me?” “Family?” My voice grew louder. “Does ‘family’ touch each other’s money without permission?” Just then, Jason knocked and walked in. He was the company’s project manager, undeniably handsome – the kind of guy who could make any woman melt. “What’s going on? I could hear you arguing all the way outside.” Jason feigned concern. “Perfect timing, Jason.” Vanessa’s expression immediately shifted. “Explain to Blake why your project needed that money.” Jason instantly looked remorseful, even his eyes were misty. “Mr. Blake, it’s all my fault. My incompetence caused issues with the project.” “If I hadn’t desperately needed the money, I wouldn’t have bothered Ms. Vanessa…” “You bothered *her*?” I glared at Jason. “Did you know that was my private fund?” “I… I didn’t know.” Jason lowered his head. “I thought it was company working capital. I’m truly sorry!” “If ‘sorry’ fixed everything, what would we need cops for?” My voice was ice-cold. Vanessa suddenly slammed the table. “Blake Davis, that’s enough! Jason has apologized, what more do you want?” “What do I want?” I turned to her. “I want my money, and I want it now!” “We don’t have it now!” Vanessa yelled back. “The money’s already invested in the project. It won’t be back until next week!” “Next week? What if the project fails?” “It won’t fail,” Jason quickly said. “I guarantee it won’t fail.” “You guarantee?” I stared at him. “What are you guaranteeing with?” Jason opened his mouth but couldn’t speak. “It better be back next week,” I pointed at Vanessa. “Every single cent!” I walked away, but then turned back at the door. “And next time, before you touch my money, you’d better ask me first!”

Back in my office, Mark cautiously brought me coffee. “Mr. Blake, should I look into the specific whereabouts of that money?” “Yes. The more details, the better.” Two days later, Mark brought a stack of photos, his hands trembling. “Mr. Blake, take a look at this.” In the photos, Vanessa and Jason were leaving a Michelin-starred restaurant. Vanessa was adjusting Jason’s tie. They were laughing happily, and Jason’s hand was resting on Vanessa’s waist. “When were these taken?” I picked up the photos, examining them closely. “Last night, 11:15 PM,” Mark said, pulling out his phone. “I followed them until 11:40 PM, when they finally parted ways.” I remembered clearly: last night I messaged Vanessa, and she said she was exhausted, her phone almost dead. “Anything else?” Mark pulled out another stack of documents. “This is Ms. Vanessa’s itinerary for the past week.” I flipped through page after page, growing angrier with each one. The itinerary listed meetings with important clients, but the actual locations always overlapped with Jason’s activities. “That jerk!” I slammed the documents onto the desk. “Mr. Blake, there’s something even worse.” Mark played a recording from his phone. “I recorded this yesterday in the break room.” Jason’s voice came through the recording: “Vanessa looked beautiful in that black dress last night, even more feminine than usual.” Another male voice asked, “What’s your relationship with her?” Jason chuckled. “You know.” I immediately smashed my water glass on the floor. Shards scattered everywhere. “Keep digging! I want to know their every move!” The next day, I decided to test Jason myself. I cornered him in the break room. “How was the Japanese place yesterday?” I asked deliberately. Jason was pouring coffee. At my words, his hand twitched, spilling coffee all over the counter. “What… what Japanese food?” He frantically wiped the counter. “Don’t play dumb.” I stepped closer. “That upscale place last night. The food was good, right?” Jason’s face instantly went white, then he forced a calm smile. “Oh, *that* place. Yeah, it was pretty good. Ms. Vanessa said she liked it too.” As soon as he said it, he realized his slip and immediately shut up. “Is that so?” I stared into his eyes. “Ms. Vanessa said she was working late last night.” “I… I…” Jason stammered. “Maybe I remembered wrong.” “Remembered wrong?” I scoffed. “Or have your dates become so routine that you forgot to keep it a secret?” “Mr. Blake, you’re misunderstanding!” Sweat beaded on Jason’s forehead. “Ms. Vanessa and I are strictly professional!” “Professional?” I pulled out my phone and opened the photos Mark had sent me. “Is this professional?” The photos showed Vanessa and Jason laughing and talking in the restaurant, Vanessa even feeding Jason with a fork. Jason’s face turned completely white when he saw the photos. “This… this is…” “This is what?” I held the phone up to his face. “Explain?” Jason opened his mouth but couldn’t utter a single word. Just then, Vanessa pushed the door open. “What are you two talking about?” “About your date.” I showed her the phone directly. “Explain?” Vanessa’s face also changed when she saw the photos. But she quickly regained her composure. “What’s there to explain?” she retorted, acting righteous. “Jason and I were discussing work, and we grabbed a bite. Is there a problem?” “Discussing work requires feeding each other?” I pointed at the photo. “You call this work?” “That was… that was an accident,” Vanessa began to panic. “We were talking about the project, I had documents in my hand, so I just…” “…fed him anyway?” I sneered. “Vanessa, do you think I’m an idiot?” “Blake, you’re overthinking.” Vanessa started to play the victim. “Jason and I are truly just colleagues.” “Really?” I pulled out another photo. “Then how do you explain *this* one?”

In the second photo, Jason’s hand was on Vanessa’s shoulder, both standing at a hotel entrance. This time, Vanessa was utterly speechless. “I can explain!” Jason suddenly blurted out. “I drank too much that day, and Ms. Vanessa drove me back to the hotel!” “Drove you back to the hotel?” I smiled. “Did she take you all the way to the room?” “No!” Jason hastily waved his hands. “Just dropped me off downstairs!” “Is that so?” I pulled out my phone and played a recording. The hotel front desk clerk’s voice came through: “Room 411, two guests, check-in 11:20 PM, check-out 9:00 AM the next day.” The room fell terrifyingly silent. “Anything else to explain?” I looked at both of them. Vanessa and Jason exchanged glances, not daring to speak. “Good.” I put my phone away. “Since you’re not talking, I’ll take that as an admission.” With that, I walked out, leaving them staring at each other. Another week passed. It was the company’s annual gala. The gala was held at a five-star hotel, with over three hundred attendees, all industry bigwigs. I sat at the main table, Vanessa beside me, impeccably made up, wearing a designer gown worth tens of thousands of dollars. “This year’s Outstanding Employee Award goes to our Project Manager, Jason!” the host announced. Applause erupted throughout the ballroom, and Jason walked onto the stage, beaming. He looked especially dashing today, in a crisp suit, his hair perfectly slicked back. “Thank you, everyone!” Jason held the microphone. “This year, our project department achieved excellent results…” He started his presentation, the first slides showing normal performance data. I was about to clap, when suddenly, the visuals changed. The big screen displayed examples of my early failed investments. It even had a giant meme with the word “FAILURE” plastered across it, strikingly prominent. The entire room burst into laughter. “Hahaha, Blake really had a rough time back then!” “How much did he lose that time? Thirty million?” “It’s still so funny to think about!” The whispers from the audience grew louder. Everyone was staring at me, some chuckling, some pointing. I sat there, expressionless, watching my past failures displayed as a joke on the big screen. Even worse, Jason feigned panic on stage: “Ah! My apologies, Mr. Blake! This is an old template that wasn’t properly deleted! I’m truly sorry!” But even as he apologized, a smirk played on his lips, clearly intentional. Vanessa didn’t stop him; instead, she joined in the laughter. She covered her mouth, shaking with laughter, tears streaming down her face. “Vanessa, you find this funny too?” I turned to her. “No, I just…” Vanessa was still laughing. “I was just remembering that incident back then…” Some people in the audience started discussing loudly: “Blake really has had some bad luck these past few years!” “I heard he lost a lot of money!” “He’s probably just being propped up by his family’s connections now!” “If it wasn’t for his dad, he’d have gone bankrupt long ago!” ———-此处为截断点———- Every word that reached my ears felt like a knife. Jason was still playing innocent on stage: “I’m so sorry, Mr. Blake! My assistant made this presentation, maybe they got it wrong!”

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On my first day as a married woman, my mother-in-law asked me to make breakfast. When I refused, she called me immoral and disrespectful to elders. I slapped her twice. Ha! I’ve been the other woman for years. Did she really expect me to have any morals left? “Babe, I have to catch a flight today. I’m heading out now, you can sleep in a bit longer.” Lucas kissed my cheek lightly before getting out of bed. I nodded with my eyes closed, running my hand over the smooth silk sheets, feeling utterly blissful inside. After three years, I’d finally reached this day. I’d been Lucas’s secretary and secret lover for three years, going to great lengths to please him, sucking up to his mother, and playing with his son. At last, Lucas made up his mind to divorce Mandy and marry me. The luxurious Moore mansion, the title of Mrs. Moore, everything that belonged to Lucas – it was all mine now. I rolled around happily in bed, planning to sleep a bit more when suddenly there was urgent knocking on the door. “Rachel, Rachel, wake up!” I squinted at my phone. It was only 7 AM. Who the hell was bothering me this early? I angrily opened the door to find Lucas’s mother, Fiona, standing there with an apron, smiling broadly. “Rachel, Oliver wants bacon and eggs for breakfast. I’ll just have some beef dumplings and red bean porridge.” This early in the morning, and she was ordering breakfast? I barely managed to suppress my anger. “Well, I’ll have a sandwich and black coffee. Wake me up at 8:30 to eat, thanks.” I started to close the door, but Fiona’s expression changed. “Rachel, what are you doing? Aren’t you going to make breakfast?” I looked at her, bewildered. “Don’t we have a housekeeper? Why should I cook?” Fiona frowned and shoved the apron into my hands. “We don’t have a housekeeper. It wouldn’t be right to have a stranger in the house. Mandy used to make breakfast. Now that you’ve married into our family as our daughter-in-law, it’s naturally your job to cook breakfast from now on.” I was stunned. Then I remembered – in the Moore household, Mandy didn’t just make breakfast. She prepared all three meals every day. And she was an excellent cook. I’d often enjoyed her cooking when I was with Lucas.

Mandy and Lucas were college sweethearts who started a business together after graduation. Lucas worked himself to exhaustion trying to grow the company, entertaining clients and securing deals until his health suffered. Worried about him, Mandy quit her job to become a full-time housewife, taking care of all his needs from meals to laundry. Lucas had digestive issues, so Mandy would make him nutritious porridge every day. When Lucas had early meetings and couldn’t eat at home, she’d carefully pack breakfast for him to take to the office. Most of those breakfasts ended up in my stomach. I’d sit on Lucas’s lap, one arm around his neck, waiting happily for him to feed me spoonfuls of porridge. “Mmm, this yam and pork rib porridge is delicious. The yam is so flavorful and the meat is so tender.” Lucas would smile and pinch my cheek. “You little glutton with your refined palate. Of course it’s good – Mandy wakes up at 5 AM to start cooking it. “What do you want to eat tomorrow? I’ll tell her to make it.” I giggled, about to reply when the phone on his desk rang. Seeing the caller ID, Lucas frowned. I quickly picked up. “Hello, Mrs. Moore— “Yes, Mr. Moore has already eaten breakfast. He says your porridge is delicious. We’re all so envious—” As I spoke, I squirmed around on Lucas’s lap. From the other end of the line came the faint sound of Fiona’s harsh scolding. “Has Lucas eaten breakfast yet? You know he has an early meeting today. Why didn’t you wake him up earlier? “You get to enjoy yourself at home all day and you can’t even do this one simple thing properly! How can the porridge taste good if it’s cold? Lucas can’t eat anything cold with his stomach issues!” Mandy weakly tried to explain. “Mom, I put it in a thermos. It won’t get cold.” I hung up the phone and stuck my tongue out at Lucas. “Honey, your mom is so scary—” Lucas gripped my waist and snorted. “That’s just how she is with Mandy. Mandy’s a housewife with only these few tasks, so of course my mom is strict with her. “You’re different, baby. You graduated from a top university and you’re my right-hand woman at the company. My mom adores you. She’s always praising you at home, saying how beautiful and capable you are, that you’re a hundred times better than Mandy.” “Really?” I was overjoyed and kissed Lucas on the cheek. “If your mom likes me so much, when are you going to marry me?” Lucas’s eyes darkened as he narrowed them. “Soon— I just need to sort out the finances first. We can’t let Mandy take advantage.”

“Rachel, hurry up and make breakfast! If we’re late, Oliver will be late for school.” Fiona’s impatient urging interrupted my memories. I rolled my eyes and threw the apron on the floor. “I’m not cooking. Order takeout if you want to eat.” Fiona got agitated and grabbed my arm. “Mandy always cooked. Why won’t you?” “Are you crazy? Mandy this, Mandy that. Didn’t you say she was plain and embarrassing to be seen with? You praised me for being pretty and elegant. Come on, beauty takes work. Let me get my beauty sleep, okay?” I pushed her away and tried to close the door. Fiona got angry and jabbed her finger at my forehead. “What kind of daughter-in-law doesn’t make breakfast? It’s your first day here and you’re already trying to slack off. Not respecting your mother-in-law, not taking care of the child – do you have any morals at all?” Morals? What a joke. I was already pissed at being woken up so early. I slapped Fiona twice across the face. “Screw you, I’ve been the other woman for years. You think I have any morals left? “Keep bothering my sleep and I’ll beat you to death!” Fiona fell to the ground, stunned by my slaps. She stared at me in disbelief for a moment before reacting. With a shriek, she leapt up and charged at me, headbutting my stomach. “How dare you! You vixen, you dare hit your mother-in-law! You ungrateful wretch!” I immediately grabbed her hair with both hands and yanked hard. Fiona howled in pain. To maintain my figure, I spent at least an hour weightlifting at the gym every day. I may look slim, but I’m quite strong. “You talk about manners? You old hag, at the wedding you said you’d treat me like your own daughter. It’s only the first day and you’re already trying to bully me. Is this how you treat your own child?” With her hair in my grip, Fiona tried to scratch my face. I kicked her hard in the stomach. Fiona stumbled back several steps before falling flat on her back. She pounded the floor, wailing. “Murder! This vixen Rachel is trying to kill me!” The door across the hall opened. Ten-year-old Oliver rubbed his eyes, looking at us in shock. “Mom Rachel, why are you fighting?”

I quickly made up an excuse. “I wanted to order you KFC for breakfast, but your grandma wouldn’t let me. She even hit me.” Sure enough, Oliver’s expression immediately changed. He glared fiercely at Fiona. “I want KFC! Grandma, why won’t you let me have KFC!” When I first tried to win Oliver over, I thought it would be difficult. But it turned out to be much easier than I expected. Oliver had already been spoiled rotten by his grandmother. He would often badmouth Mandy in front of me. “My mom is so stupid. My dad has taken care of her for so many years, but she can’t do anything right. And she doesn’t even wear makeup – she’s so ugly. Rachel, I wish you could be my new mom. “Next time there’s a parent-teacher meeting, can you come instead of my mom? You’re young and pretty. All my classmates would be so jealous.” I took him out for KFC a few times and skipped school to go to the amusement park, and I had him wrapped around my finger. “My mom says fries and fried chicken are junk food and won’t let me eat them. Grandma is better, she lets me eat them sometimes. But you’re the best, Rachel. You even let me have ice cream.” Oliver clung affectionately to my arm. “When you become my mom, can I come to the amusement park every day instead of doing homework?” “Of course, sweetie. You can do whatever you want, and I’ll support you all the way.” As if I cared whether this brat did his homework or ate junk food. He wasn’t my kid after all. So on the day Mandy and Lucas divorced, when Mandy cried and tried to take Oliver with her, he rudely pushed her away. “You can’t even make money. Am I supposed to go begging with you? “Just leave. I’ll have a new mom soon, and she’s pretty and young – a hundred times better than you.” Mandy left with a look of utter disappointment. What a fool. She’d slaved away for the Moore family for over a decade and was leaving with nothing. I wasn’t about to end up like her. Seeing that his grandson only cared about KFC and didn’t react at all to seeing his grandmother beaten, Fiona burst into tears. “You ungrateful brat! Grandma’s love for you all these years was wasted!” As she cried, she took out her phone to call Lucas. “Son— come back quickly— your mother is about to be beaten to death. Oh, my son—” From the other end came Lucas’s impatient voice. “What’s all this fuss so early in the morning? I’m just downstairs, I forgot my passport. Whatever it is, come down and tell me.”

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I had been in an online relationship with my boyfriend for three years. I was there for him through his darkest days, supporting him every step of the way. When we finally met in person, everything fell apart. The reason was simple – the person I had been dating for three years was also complicit in bullying me. Later, Sean tried to make amends by letting others do to him what he had done to me. He begged for my forgiveness, pleading with me to come back. But some things in this world can’t be settled by simply evening the score. 0 As Sean and his cronies cornered me against the wall, I was in the middle of messaging “Sean baby” on SnapChat. Sunlight streamed through the windows into the dark classroom, illuminating only the young man standing at the edge of the group. He looked like a sliver of light in the darkness. I had just sent: [Something came up today. Let’s play games together tonight instead.] Sean’s phone buzzed. His expression instantly softened. He leaned close to his phone and said in a low, gentle voice: [No worries, sweetie. I actually have something to take care of too. Just message me when you’re free later.] I clenched my fist. As I lowered my eyes, I saw “Sean baby” had sent a voice message. “Sean?” The girl standing next to him called out. Sean ignored her, his fingers tapping out another message on his screen. At the same time, my phone received a new message. I didn’t reply. The air in the room felt suffocating for a moment. Zoe opened her mouth, about to call out to Sean again. But the young man suddenly turned to look at her, his voice cold: “What do you want?” Zoe froze for a second. Everyone else’s eyes turned to her. I kept my gaze fixed on Sean. He stood at the edge of the group, half his face illuminated by the light from outside. The contrast of light and shadow only accentuated his striking good looks. His features overlapped with the photos I had seen before. I felt disoriented for a moment. Half of him was my sweet Sean. The other half was this stranger, Sean. My grip loosened involuntarily. The atmosphere grew tense. Suddenly, the girl’s shrill voice shattered the silence. Her tone dripped with vicious glee, like an icy snake coiling around my body. The smugness in her voice was almost palpable. “Teach her a lesson,” she commanded. “Let her know not to mess with me, Zoe.” Fists and kicks rained down on me, one after another. Every place they struck erupted in pain. Threats and insults poured into my ears, punctuated by Zoe’s triumphant laughter. I desperately buried my face in my arms. I don’t know how long it lasted. When I finally looked up again, the figure at the corner was long gone. 0

I had provoked Zoe. She had always been insufferable, throwing her weight around school just because she had a delinquent boyfriend. On Wednesday, I was lining up for lunch in the cafeteria. Zoe suddenly appeared with her posse, cutting in line right in front of me without so much as a word. Normally, I might have said something. But that day I was starving. I had forgotten to eat breakfast and was famished by third period. So I pushed her. Hard. I forgot how strong I was sometimes. That one shove sent her sprawling on her butt. The sound of Zoe hitting the ground was loud enough to make the whole area go quiet. All eyes turned to us. I don’t think she had ever been treated like that before. Her face turned beet red, like an overinflated balloon about to burst. I was about to apologize when the lunch lady called out to me: “What’ll you have, honey? Don’t hold up the line, there are people waiting behind you.” I froze, completely forgetting about Zoe still on the ground. I rattled off my order to the lunch lady. By the time I got my food, Zoe was gone. I figured we were even – she had cut in line first, after all. As far as I was concerned, it was water under the bridge. 0

That was what I thought anyway. Zoe clearly didn’t see it that way. Otherwise she wouldn’t have asked her boyfriend’s friend to come “teach me a lesson.” And I wouldn’t have been beaten up by my own boyfriend and his gang. When I got back to my dorm, my clothes were soaked and filthy. My roommate wrinkled her nose and asked in surprise, “Lucy, what happened to you?” “I accidentally fell on my way back,” I lied. “Oh.” She looked relieved. “Go take a shower then.” I nodded and took off my face mask. My phone buzzed in my pocket again. [What are you up to, sweetie?] [Are you done with your errands?] [Why aren’t you replying to me? (Crying cat emoji)] [Sweetie?] [Patiently waiting.jpg] I didn’t respond. I turned off the screen and went into the bathroom. 0

Sean and I had been in an online relationship for three years without ever meeting in person. When we first started talking, he called me Lucy. As we grew closer, he started calling me Lulu. Later, after he confessed his feelings, he called me “sweetie.” We had known each other for almost three years. During that time, his grandfather passed away. We talked on the phone five times a day during that period. He would talk about his grandfather until his voice grew hoarse, or break down crying. I cried along with him on the other end, comforting him through my own tears. I knew every detail of his childhood. I listened as he reminisced about those bygone days of his youth, the only times he looked back on fondly. My browser search history was filled with: “How to best comfort someone who lost a loved one.” Sometimes he would call me in the middle of the night. The city would be pitch black at 3 AM. I’d be jolted awake by the ringtone, sit up in bed, and stare into the inky darkness as I kept him company while he cried. Eventually, Sean started to heal. Time proved that companionship truly was the best comfort. Even though we had never met in person. Whenever he needed me, I was there. He told me, [Sweetie, I’m so glad I have you.] When I got that message, my best friend Hazel happened to be next to me and saw it. She scoffed: “I can’t believe you’re so free that you’d comfort a total stranger through a screen.” I kept my eyes on the screen and replied tangentially: “Isn’t it amazing?” “The internet is truly incredible.” Sean’s profile picture was a smiling cat. Just looking at it lifted my mood. “It can turn two people who’ve never met into an intimate relationship by society’s standards.” “Companionship through a screen can become someone’s salvation.” I typed out a message and hit send: [I’ll always be here for you.] “How should I put it,” I smiled at Hazel. “Is this the greatness of love?” 0

The sound of running water in the shower suddenly stopped. I came out wrapped in a towel. My roommate pointed at the phone on the desk: “Lucy, your boyfriend called a few times. I told him you were in the shower.” “Thanks,” I said softly. Her eyes landed on my arm and she gasped again: “How did you fall? It looks pretty bad. I have some bruise ointment, come here and let me help you apply it.” I bit my lip to keep from crying out as she rubbed the ointment on the bruises. I typed out a reply to Sean. [I’m done with my shower.] He immediately sent back a sticker. [Kiss.jpg] [Want to play some games tonight, sweetie?] I thought for a moment, then replied: [Not tonight.] [Today I…] [What happened today?] I hesitated, then continued typing. [I saw someone cut in line today, so I pushed them. They said they were going to get someone to teach me a lesson.] The “typing” bubble on his end popped up and disappeared a few times. Finally, he sent a voice message. I didn’t play it. I just replied: [It’s fine, they didn’t come after me.] [How dare they cut in line and still act self-righteous?] Sean asked. More voice messages from him kept popping up, the red dots indicating I hadn’t listened to them. But my eyes were fixed on that one text reply. I couldn’t help but laugh. “What’s so funny?” my roommate asked curiously. Wiping away tears of laughter from the corners of my eyes, I said, “Just saw a funny joke.” 0

We had never gone a day without talking. Sean had sent me many photos over the years. Brilliant sunsets, clusters of wildflowers by the roadside, skies so blue they looked unreal… There was one of him standing in his family’s garden, smiling at the camera. The hem of his white shirt fluttered in the breeze. He stood tall and handsome, his smile as radiant as moonlight. He had said, Sweetie, I took this photo specially for you. Maybe one day, you’ll be able to recognize me if we pass each other on the street. I said what were the chances of that ever happening. Now I realized I was wrong. There are even more unlikely coincidences in this world. His face was half-hidden in shadow under the streetlights, refined yet cold. His beautiful features overlapped with the boy in the photos. Familiar yet strange. Sean once asked me what kind of person I liked. I asked him back, what are you like? He said, I’m whatever you like. I said I liked righteous, noble young men. The Sean I imagined in my mind was exactly like that. He was silent for a long time after that, only sending back a smiley face emoji. 0

The chat bubbles on the other end of the screen kept popping up. I was stunned for a good 30 seconds before I sent him a message: [Sean.] [Do you want to meet in person?] The next day in the cafeteria, I ran into Zoe again. She was trying to cut in line as usual. I was standing in another line, watching as the guy she cut in front of swallowed his anger and said nothing. Zoe turned to chat and laugh with her friends. The corners of her blood-red lips curled up as she caught sight of me in line. Something seemed to occur to her. Her smirk grew even wider as she pulled her friend out of line and squeezed right in between me and the person in front. Her elbow jutted out, nearly knocking me into the person behind me. I stumbled, barely managing to keep my balance. The person in front turned around, their eyes filled with disdain, as if mocking my foolishness from yesterday. I rarely saw such an ugly side of people. I bit my lip so hard I nearly drew blood, desperately trying to suppress the turmoil inside me. I lowered my gaze to hide my emotions. “Little. Bitch.” She enunciated each word slowly, her tone dripping with mockery and venom. But I heard every syllable crystal clear. My rationality was on the verge of snapping. I tasted blood in my mouth and forcefully swallowed it down. 0 My chat with “Sean baby” was still open to the kiss emoji he had sent me yesterday. [Really, sweetie?] [We’re finally going to meet!] [I’ve been looking forward to this for so long. I can’t wait to see you.] [It’s been almost three years.] [I’ll let you know once I’ve decided on a day.] [Okay!] [I’m so happy we’ll finally meet.] [What if you don’t like me in person?] [How could that be possible!] [I’ll love my sweetie no matter what.] [Kiss.jpg] The conversation ended there. I had finished getting my food and sat down in the cafeteria, scrolling through that exchange over and over. It was like I was trying to glean some hidden meaning from it, but came up empty.

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