My husband’s mistress was dead – murdered. That afternoon, my husband and I were taken to the police station. I actually had no idea my husband was having an affair. If it weren’t for this murder case, I might have been kept in the dark forever. To identify the killer, the police took our fingerprints and asked about our whereabouts during the victim’s estimated time of death. The victim, Mandy Liu, was a 28-year-old office worker. She died around 11 PM on July 30, 2019. The cause of death was a severed carotid artery, leading to massive blood loss. It had been three days since Mandy Liu’s death. With only three days passed, I clearly remembered what happened that night. My husband had been with me the whole time, sleeping very soundly. So I naturally told the truth. My husband and I were questioned separately by the police. I was interviewed by a man and a woman. The man, Mike, was around 30 and a deputy leader of the major crime unit. The woman, Wendy, looked to be in her late 20s and was quite beautiful. Perhaps because I was pregnant and had just learned about my husband’s affair, they saw my red-rimmed eyes and were very gentle when questioning me, probably worried I couldn’t handle the psychological stress. Especially Wendy – she looked at me with kind eyes and asked, “Mrs. Lin, please think carefully. Are you absolutely certain your husband didn’t leave the house that night? Is it possible he snuck out while you were asleep?” I was taken aback, considered for a moment, then said, “Officer Wendy, since becoming pregnant I’ve been sleeping a lot, so I go to bed early every night. All I can say is that my husband was there when I fell asleep and when I woke up.” Wendy and Mike exchanged a glance. Curiously, I asked, “Officer Wendy, can’t you extract DNA evidence from the rape victim? If you suspect my husband, you could test for that.” Even as I said this, I was thinking – they were already having an affair, why would he need to rape her? The killer definitely wasn’t my husband. Seeing my question, Wendy shook her head and said, “The killer was clever and didn’t leave any useful evidence. So this case is a bit complicated to investigate.” I made a sound of acknowledgment. Wendy asked how far along my pregnancy was. I told her just over 4 months. She smiled and glanced at my belly, saying it looked quite large and might be twins. She added that pregnant women are prone to emotional reactions and advised me to try to stay positive and take good care of myself. I was very touched by Wendy’s words. After chatting a bit more, I left the police station. I thought my husband would be coming home with me, but Officer Mike said he needed to stay and assist with the investigation. With no other choice, I had to go home alone. Back in my neighborhood, I learned from neighbors that several police officers had come by. They had checked the security camera footage and asked if anyone had heard our door open between 9 PM and early morning on July 30th. I asked what the neighbor had told them. She said she hadn’t heard anything, so she told them the truth. Hearing this, I felt reassured. I assumed my husband would be spending the night at the police station since he wasn’t answering my calls. But just as I was about to go to sleep after dinner, he came home. He was still cold and aloof as usual. I got up to heat some food for him, but he stopped me. I asked, “Honey, why didn’t you answer my call earlier?” He said the police had taken his phone to copy his chat and call records. Thinking about all the intimate exchanges with that woman on his phone, I felt disgusted. But considering the baby, I held back. After all, that woman was dead now – what was there left to be upset about? But I was wrong. My lack of concern didn’t mean others felt the same. As I dozed off, I suddenly felt a violent choking sensation. Opening my eyes, I realized my husband was frantically strangling me, trying to kill me.

I struggled desperately, pushing against him while choking out, “Honey… I’m carrying your child… Do you really… want both of us dead?” My words had the desired effect. He slowly released my neck, forcefully gripping my shoulders instead. Glaring at me with bloodshot eyes, he shouted, “Lucy, tell me – did you hire someone to kill Mandy?” His rage terrified me. I quickly explained, “Honey, you’re… you’re wrong. I don’t have the guts for that.” “Hmph! You’d better hope I don’t find out you did it. Otherwise, I’ll strangle you myself.” With a final menacing glare, my husband got off the bed and left. He didn’t return to the bedroom that night. I tossed and turned, his furious face haunting my thoughts. It wasn’t until nearly dawn that I finally drifted into a fitful sleep. I was woken by the sound of the doorbell. After listening for a while and realizing no one was answering, I drowsily got up to go downstairs and open the door. But as I descended the stairs and saw the scene in the living room, I let out a scream of horror. My husband was slumped motionlessly on the sofa, surrounded by a large pool of blood. He had slit his wrists. A bloody scalpel lay on the coffee table. Seeing this terrifying sight, I screamed again. I couldn’t bear to look a second time – it was too horrific. My whole body went limp and I collapsed to the floor, shaking uncontrollably. The doorbell kept ringing. Hearing my screams, it became even more urgent. I wanted to open the door but found I had no strength. I could only sit there sobbing. After what felt like forever, the door was forced open from outside. Wendy and Mike entered, followed by two uniformed officers. When they saw my husband, they were all startled. Mike immediately called the medical examiner, while Wendy helped me up from the floor where I sat crying. The medical examiner arrived quickly and made a preliminary determination of suicide, with time of death around 2 AM. His face was contorted, as if he had experienced something terrifying just before dying. Mike told me that my husband was the one who had killed Mandy Liu. I didn’t believe it at first, but he said the evidence was conclusive. They had obtained security camera footage from both our neighborhood and Mandy’s. Although he had avoided the cameras in our complex, he wasn’t as familiar with Mandy’s area. They had captured an image of him there around 10 PM on the night of the murder. I was stunned. Mike also told me they had found WeChat records on my husband’s phone confirming he and Mandy had planned to meet those days. So their initial conclusion was that my husband had committed suicide out of guilt. I felt devastated. I crouched down, my body shaking uncontrollably like a sieve. The police took my husband’s body away for further examination. Our living room became a crime scene, surrounded by police tape. Especially that pool of blood on the floor – it made my heart race with fear just looking at it. After I finished giving my statement, Wendy seemed very sympathetic. She put a comforting hand on my shoulder and asked softly, “Lucy, I see bruises on your neck. Did Charlie abuse you?” Her question reminded me of the previous night’s events. I wiped away my tears and carefully said, “Last night I confronted him about the affair. He was in a bad mood and got physical.” Wendy looked thoughtful, then said after a pause, “The neck is a vulnerable area. It seems he was trying to kill you. Why didn’t you call the police?”

Wendy’s words startled me. I took a deep breath and said, covering my neck, “Officer Wendy, he’s my husband – the father of my unborn child.” Seeing my response, Wendy didn’t press further. As they prepared to leave, she advised me to stay at a nearby hotel if I felt unsafe at home, and to call her if I needed anything. I nodded in agreement and watched them go. I grew up in a rural area, with my parents still living far away in the countryside. My husband’s parents were from another city. After college, we both found jobs here, so we bought our marital home in this city. But I never imagined I’d end up alone in this 2000 square foot house. The thought made me incredibly sad. I went upstairs to pack a few changes of clothes and checked into a nearby hotel. After eating a little, I took out my husband’s bank cards and called the online banking customer service. To my surprise, I discovered there was over $500,000 in deposits across his accounts. I didn’t actually know my husband’s bank card PINs. But recently I had purposely asked him to take me shopping for baby items. By watching him enter his WeChat Pay password multiple times, I had secretly memorized it. I guessed that like most people, he probably used the same password for WeChat, Alipay and his bank cards to avoid forgetting. Sure enough, my hunch was correct – it worked on the first try. Ever since getting pregnant, I had suffered from severe morning sickness and was forced to quit my job as a makeup artist at a photo studio. My husband was very guarded about money and only gave me $500 a month for living expenses. This had always bothered me. I put away the bank cards, feeling exhausted. I dozed off on the bed and had a nightmare. In the dream, I was lying motionless in bed while Mandy Liu and my husband Charlie grinned eerily at me, reaching out to strangle me. I jolted awake, realizing it was just a dream. Parched, I was about to get up for some water when my phone on the nightstand rang. Seeing it was Wendy calling, my heart skipped a beat. I took a deep breath before answering. Wendy asked which hotel I was staying at, saying there were some more things they needed to understand. I gave her the hotel name. About 30 minutes later, Wendy arrived alone – Mike wasn’t with her this time. I let her into the room. Wendy smiled and said, “Mrs. Lin, although your husband’s death appears to be suicide, the autopsy found a significant amount of alprazolam in his system – much more than a normal dose. Did he have any medical conditions requiring this medication?” “Alprazolam?” I pondered the drug name, then realized, “Oh, you mean the sleeping pills? My husband had insomnia. He only took a couple pills when he couldn’t sleep.” “Is that so? But the amount detected in your husband’s body was at least five times a normal dose. How do you explain that?” Hearing Wendy’s words, I gave a bitter laugh.

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My husband, Jake, was a big-shot stylist in the industry. His clients? All high-spending wealthy women. He’d come home late, shed his clothes, and just crash. But one night, I found a receipt in his jacket pocket. Just one item listed: condoms. The purchase time was 8:16 PM, that very evening. My blood ran cold. Jake and I hadn’t been intimate in ages. So, who exactly was that box for? My name is Natalie. I’m 26 and I work at a bank, primarily in investment and wealth management. My parents were strict educators, so it was a shock when I insisted on marrying Jake, someone whose background and upbringing were so completely different from mine. Jake was effortlessly charming and undeniably handsome—the kind of guy who’d make any woman’s heart flutter with just one glance. At the time, he worked as a stylist at an upscale salon. My office was nearby, and I’d often pop in for a haircut. That’s how we got to know each other. He was witty, humorous, and incredibly composed—nothing like the loud and obnoxious guys I’d known in college. I was utterly captivated, and soon enough, we started dating. When my father found out, he hit the roof. He tore into me, screaming. I cried my eyes out, but my mom, bless her heart, intervened, mediating between us for what felt like forever. In the end, my father reluctantly gave in. I thought being with the man I loved would be like living in a dream, every day sweeter than the last. Instead, after we got married, I was under immense emotional stress. Insomnia, nightmares, hair loss, I looked utterly dreadful. Every time I caught my reflection, it was like staring at a ghost. I’d turn my head to look at Jake, sprawled on the couch, glued to his phone. His shirt would ride up, revealing his defined abs. Compared to him, I felt even more self-conscious. My parents, seeing how much I’d wasted away, were heartbroken. Soon after we married, they dipped into most of their life savings to buy us a house in a prime school district and even gave Jake a chunk of money to further his hairdressing skills. After his advanced training, he really took off. He became the salon’s star stylist and was promoted to creative director. But ever since Jake became a director, he got busier and busier. He was out early and back late; I barely saw him. When he did come home, it was usually late, smelling of liquor and unfamiliar perfume. He wouldn’t even bother to take off his clothes, just crash onto the bed and pass out. That night, Jake didn’t get home until after midnight, just like always. He stumbled onto the bed, still in his jacket, and within moments, his snores filled the room. My heart ached for him. I reached out, gently took his arm, and carefully pulled his jacket off. With a soft shake, a few strands of wine-red, curly hair drifted from his jacket and landed on the floor. I didn’t think much of it; Jake was a hairdresser, after all. He always had different women’s hair on him, I was used to it. I picked up the hair, tossed it into the nearby trash can, and draped his jacket over the back of a chair. Suddenly, a small crumpled piece of paper fell out of his jacket pocket. Curious, I smoothed it open. It was a supermarket receipt. Just one item: condoms. Purchased at 8:16 PM, tonight. I froze. Jake and I hadn’t been intimate in ages. So, who exactly was that box of condoms for? The thought sparked, and doubt took root deep in my heart . I picked up Jake’s jacket again, carefully checking every inch. Finally, on the collar, I spotted a deep, unmistakable lipstick stain. Jake had often told me his job involved a lot of women: the sexy receptionist, young new clients, and chatty female stylists. But of course, his most frequent clients were the high-spending wealthy ones.

From the very first day of our marriage, I chose to trust him. I never questioned his work. But seeing that lipstick stain on his jacket and that box of condoms, I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling. My mind started racing, consumed by wild suspicions. The overthinking clearly impacted my work efficiency. I asked my supervisor for a day off and went straight to ‘The Muse’ salon. After marrying Jake, I’d never once been to his workplace. He never invited me to work events, either, so over time, I didn’t know any of his friends or colleagues. After asking around, I finally found The Muse salon. It was on the fifth floor of a mall, taking up a huge space, entirely enclosed by transparent glass. As soon as I stepped off the elevator, I saw The Muse’s prominent sign. Through the glass doors, I spotted a short-haired girl with bright green hair, lounging at the reception desk, practically *melting* into a smile for Jake. Jake flashed a wicked grin. He reached out and lightly brushed her hair with his fingers, and her smile widened even more. Jake’s gaze swept over the short-haired girl’s body, and he reached out again, giving her waist a playful squeeze. She didn’t pull away, instead, she pressed his hand into her waist, rubbing against it. The electricity between them was palpable. I stood there, stunned. *This* was my husband’s normal work environment? My legs felt like concrete; I couldn’t move an inch. Jake leaned in, whispered something into the green-haired girl’s ear, then turned and walked deeper into the salon. I quickly pushed through the doors and followed his direction. I saw him disappear into a VIP room. The green-haired girl looked at me, a flicker of annoyance in her eyes. “Haircut or perm? Do you have a regular stylist?” I shook my head. “No. Just find me anyone.” The green-haired girl yelled inside, “Kevin! Client for you! Come wash her hair.” A slender, somewhat effeminate guy responded, his hair dyed yellow. He smiled at me. “Right this way, beautiful.” I followed him, passing by a mirror. Seeing my own dreadful reflection and hearing him call me “beautiful,” I felt like their profession required a serious lack of conscience. Kevin quickly washed my hair, then led me to a chair near the corner. A white towel was draped over my face. I heard him ask, “So, beautiful, how do you want your hair cut?” “Just… whatever,” I mumbled. Kevin took the towel off, let my hair down, and started cutting. He was quite talkative, chatting idly with me, which was perfect. It gave me a chance to pump him for information. “How did you hear about our salon, beautiful?” he asked. “A friend recommended it. She’s a client of… Tony. I don’t see Tony around, though?” I asked, feigning casualness. Kevin scoffed, a hint of bitterness in his voice. “Oh, *our* Tony? He’s far too busy. Not just anyone can see him. You need to have *this*.” He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together in front of me, clearly indicating money. “Oh?” I couldn’t help but ask, intrigued. “How much are we talking?” Kevin looked at my face, confused, then seeing my serious expression, he dropped his smile. He glanced around, then leaned in close, whispering, “Look, sis, you seem like an honest person. Just don’t get yourself mixed up in this mess.”

It seemed Kevin knew a lot. I looked at his reflection in the mirror and said, “Tell me about him, and I’ll buy a Gold Card here.” Kevin’s eyes instantly lit up. He grinned at me. “Sis, are you also interested in Tony? We have tons of clients who are!” Kevin started talking. “Tony is handsome, charming, and he has the most clients. Not just a lot, but they’re all wealthy women, driving fancy cars!” Kevin continued to chat as he cut my hair. Apparently, Jake only served clients in the VIP section. To get into that room, you had to have spent at least ten thousand dollars at the salon. “That much?” I exclaimed, surprised. Kevin seemed unfazed. He took a strand of my hair, snipped it, and continued, “Our Tony is worth it! Who can blame him for being so skilled?” His tone was dripping with envy. I looked at Kevin. He wasn’t bad-looking himself, and he was younger than Jake. Logically, why wouldn’t those rich women choose him? I asked curiously, “You’re pretty handsome too. Rich women should like your type.” Kevin paused for a moment, then burst into a happy laugh. “Sis, you’re too kind!” He put down his scissors and leaned in close, whispering, “Tony has his own methods. He knows how to make those rich women willingly open their wallets for him.” I looked at him, shaking my head, curious. Kevin sighed, speaking as if he were disappointed in Jake. “It’s pickup artistry, you know? I heard he’s a master at it. No feelings involved. If they’re pretty, he uses them for sex. If they’re rich, he bleeds them dry.” Just then, I heard someone shouting at the entrance, “I *have* to see Tony! I know he’s here! No one else will do!” The girl stood at the reception, hands on her hips, yelling loudly. No one around moved; everyone just kept busy with their work. I was shocked. I pointed at the girl. “Hey, aren’t you going to do something?” Kevin shushed me. “We see this all the time. Someone always comes looking for Tony after a while.” I looked back at the girl. Her face was flushed with anger. No matter how much she yelled, no one paid her any mind. Finally, Chloe, the green-haired receptionist, couldn’t take it anymore and shouted back, “Ma’am, if you really want Tony to style your hair, I can make an appointment for you.” The girl immediately started spewing insults. “Book my ass! You have no idea what my relationship with him is!” She tossed her head and waved her finger. “I’m telling you, we slept together yesterday! What, he just uses women and tosses them aside now?” Kevin snickered when he heard that. But I couldn’t find anything to laugh about. All I could think was: *Jake cheated. My husband cheated.* I sat there, watching the girl scream, unable to process anything. As I sat there in a daze, Jake emerged from the VIP room. The girl, seeing him, instantly changed her demeanor. She scurried over to Jake, calling out sweetly, “Darling, I’ve been looking for you all day! Why did you take so long?” Jake’s face was cold as he stared at her. “This is my workplace. What are you doing, making such a scene?” The girl, who had just been so belligerent, instantly fell silent. She hung her head, standing before Jake, docile as a kitten.

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The woman told me to run away quickly, or I’d be the next one locked up in here. But when she saw my boyfriend, she threw herself at him. Not in hysterical anger, nor in timid pleading. Instead, she kissed him. So passionately, so tenderly. It made my skin crawl and my breath stop. 0A skeletal woman was chained up in the basement. Her cheeks were sunken, her body covered in bruises. An iron chain around her neck kept her tethered like a dog in the dark, sunless space. I stood on the stairs, our eyes meeting. My breathing quickened for no apparent reason. She seemed surprised to see me there. I told her my boyfriend had brought me to his hometown to meet his parents. Just as I was about to ask who she was, she suddenly became hysterical upon hearing this. She shouted at me: “Run! Get out of here now!” Her sudden outburst startled me. With a trembling voice, I asked her why. But her next words sent chills down my spine. “Because if you don’t leave, you’ll be the next one locked up in here!” 0

I had been dating Lucas for six months and we were planning to get married. He invited me to his hometown to meet his parents. Lucas was considered a good man by everyone, and his parents had always been very caring towards me. Today, because I wasn’t feeling well, I stayed alone at his house. Her words made me uneasy, so I left the basement as quickly as I could. When I came up, I found Lucas had already returned. He handed me a bag of sweet apricots, but I could barely taste them. I tentatively asked, “Have you ever brought other women back here before?” Lucas’s fingers paused for a moment, then he wiped the juice from the corner of my mouth and smiled, “I’ve already told you, I’ve only had two exes.” Lucas had always kept his social circle simple, coming home on time every night. Even when he occasionally went out drinking with friends, they were all people I knew. I knew I shouldn’t doubt my boyfriend. But who was that girl in the basement? I nodded thoughtfully, suddenly remembering something. I probed further, “Was one of your ex-girlfriends… the one with a birthmark on her wrist?” His face instantly darkened, and I felt inexplicably nervous. Lucas demanded to know how I knew about the birthmark. I suppressed the fear in my heart and tried to act calm, telling him he had mentioned it once before and I had remembered. I’ve always been attentive to details, so this explanation should be believable. Lucas stared intently at my expression. I unconsciously swallowed, cold sweat breaking out all over my body. Suddenly, Lucas smiled. He went into the inner room and took out a photo from the drawer, handing it to me. The woman in the photo was clearly the woman in the basement. Next to her stood Lucas and his parents, all smiling at the camera, clearly a family portrait. Lucas pointed to the family photo and explained that the one with the birthmark was actually his sister. His sister had an accident some years ago and became mentally unstable, often running away on the streets. She almost got hit by cars several times, so they had no choice but to keep her locked up at home. I suddenly understood and felt relieved. But then I thought, even if she was his own sister, she shouldn’t be locked in the basement. However, this was their family matter, and I didn’t feel it was my place to ask more questions. As I glanced at the photo again, I couldn’t help but feel that their smiles seemed somewhat forced. 0

In the middle of the night, I was awakened by a nightmare. I looked to the side and found no one there. Feeling uneasy, I decided to go out and take a look. As I passed through the living room, I heard voices. It was Lucas’s voice. What was he doing up at this hour? I quietly hid behind a pillar and saw candles burning in the room, casting Lucas’s shadow on the window. I saw him holding a knife, stabbing downwards quickly. I heard a muffled thud, followed by a splash of blood on the window. A patch of crimson, with a faint smell of blood in the air. In that instant, fear swept over me. The scene from earlier flashed in my mind – Lucas was killing someone! I suppressed the terror in my heart, hiding there not daring to make a sound. Then I saw Lucas hack down again, and another splash of blood spurted out. My heart was pounding violently. I wanted to call the police with my phone, but then remembered I had left it in the bedroom. I was about to sneak back to the room when I turned around and saw his mother standing expressionless behind me, who knows how long she had been watching. “Where are you going, Mia?” 0

I was terrified, my whole body trembling. I managed to force a stiff smile. “Oh, I was just going to the bathroom.” As I said this, I instinctively looked back and saw Lucas’s hawk-like eyes staring at me unblinkingly. I looked at the knife in his hand, my back already damp with cold sweat. I was debating whether to cry for help when Lucas suddenly frowned, quickly walked over and felt my forehead. “You look so pale, are you running a fever?” I swallowed hard, looking at his concerned expression, unable to reconcile it with his actions of killing someone. After hesitating, I finally spoke up. “What were you… doing just now?” Lucas seemed confused for a moment, then took my hand and led me into the room. As soon as we entered, I saw a dead pig tied to a bench, several knife wounds on its body, the air thick with the smell of blood. Even so, I breathed a sigh of relief. I scratched my head awkwardly and asked sheepishly, “Why are you butchering a pig in the middle of the night?” His mother smiled kindly, taking out a piece of pig liver from a basin and handing it to me. “It’s because we saw you weren’t feeling well and thought you needed some nourishment.” I looked at her gnarled hands stained red with blood, feeling somewhat uncomfortable. I realized it was all a misunderstanding. I smiled awkwardly and left, my heart filled with gratitude. I didn’t see the smiles on Lucas and his mother’s faces turn cold the moment I turned my back. 0

Back in the room, I still couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning. Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was Lucas’s cold expression as he held the knife. The more I thought about it, the more uneasy I felt. People usually kill pigs with one cut to the throat, but Lucas was torturing it cruelly. After much hesitation, I went back to the basement. His sister seemed to have anticipated my return, sitting on the ground waiting for me even in the middle of the night. I looked at her with pity, but when our eyes met, hers held only coldness. “You don’t believe me.” I smiled awkwardly, not knowing what to say. Suddenly, she stood up, making the small space feel even more cramped. I looked at her suddenly fierce face in the candlelight, feeling a hint of fear, and unconsciously took a step back. There was a “crack” sound, like I had stepped on something. I looked down and almost screamed – it was a human bone! My breathing instantly became rapid, and my forehead was covered in sweat. When I looked back at his sister, I saw her playing with a leg bone in her hand. I was so scared I nearly fainted, and turned to leave, but she stopped me. She shoved the leg bone into my hands, and I quickly let go as if it were scalding hot. In the darkness, his sister’s smile seemed even more terrifying. She leaned in and whispered, “Well, do you believe me now?” My thoughts were in turmoil. The evidence was right in front of me, no matter how much I wanted to defend Lucas. His sister told me that just because she had witnessed her brother killing someone years ago, he locked her up here and buried that person’s bones in this basement. I listened, horrified, and immediately said I would call the police. His sister quickly tried to stop me when she heard I wanted to call the police. I reassured her, “Don’t be afraid, I’ll make sure justice is served.” But his sister still shook her head in fear. “It’s useless, they all say I’m crazy, no one will believe me… If you want to leave, go find Mrs. Johnson at the edge of town, she can help you.” I looked at this poor woman, touched that she was still trying to help me even in her condition. Early the next morning, I made an excuse to go out for a walk. Lucas insisted on coming along, saying he was worried I might get lost in an unfamiliar place. It was a small town with only about a hundred households, and we soon reached the edge. There was an old house there, its door slightly ajar. While Lucas was smoking, I quietly pushed open the door, but was immediately hit by a terrible stench that made me cough repeatedly. It was very dark inside. After my eyes adjusted, I could make out the scene. On an old bed in front of me was a woman who looked like death, tied up. Around her stood at least four or five half-dressed men. They had eerie smiles on their faces, looking at me with interest like predators eyeing their prey. Goosebumps instantly covered my body. I instinctively took a few steps back, only to bump into something. I turned around to find Lucas blocking the doorway, who knows how long he had been there. His eyes were examining me coldly, sending chills down my spine. “This is the town’s brothel. What are you doing in here?”

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Emily never imagined that she would overhear certain sounds coming from her mother-in-law’s room. She initially thought her father-in-law had returned home. To her shock, it turned out her mother-in-law was having an affair! Margaret seemed confident that Emily wouldn’t dare reveal this secret and continued to act shamelessly towards her! However, a few days later, Margaret was suddenly diagnosed with HIV! And Margaret’s affair partner had also died… In the peak of summer, the cicadas were chirping loudly outside. Emily tossed and turned, but was jolted awake by a stinging pain in her fingertip. Fully awake now, she felt thoroughly annoyed. Today had been truly unlucky. While grocery shopping in the afternoon, some brat had put a needle on the seat of a rental bike, pricking her when she sat down. Then when she got home, her mother-in-law Margaret criticized her for not even being able to make a proper salad. In her flustered state, she had accidentally cut her finger while cooking. The cicadas outside grew even louder. Emily gave up on sleep and decided to use the bathroom. As soon as she stepped out, she heard intense female moaning coming from Margaret’s bedroom. She could even faintly make out the sound of flesh slapping against flesh. Emily was startled. Looking closely, she saw an old pair of men’s leather shoes in the entryway. The shoes were a bit worn, with traces of dirt still on them. It must be her father-in-law George who had returned. George often traveled for work. Despite being alone at home, Margaret never neglected her appearance. She even had a more extensive makeup collection than Emily. It was understandable that George couldn’t resist upon returning. Emily didn’t dare linger. She quickly ducked into the bathroom. When she came out, Margaret’s voice hadn’t quieted down. In fact, it had grown even more uninhibited. Emily was too embarrassed to stay outside and rushed back to her room without even getting a drink of water. Looking at the pitch-black room and hearing the moans that even the closed door couldn’t block out, Emily suddenly felt very empty inside. She also couldn’t help but wonder. David and George both worked at the same research institute. Usually they traveled and returned together. Why had only George come back this time? The empty double bed held only her body heat. Outside, the cicadas gradually quieted down, and Emily drifted back to sleep. The next morning, Emily woke up extra early. George sometimes had to leave quickly for work when he returned home. Worried he might have to rush off again, Emily got up early to make breakfast. Although she and Margaret didn’t get along well, George had always been kind. Emily’s relationship with Margaret was maintained largely thanks to George and David’s mediation. Emily felt very grateful towards George. After I set out the steamed buns and porridge on the table and turned to get Margaret’s soy milk, I heard Margaret shouting again outside. “Other people’s daughters-in-law are frugal homemakers. But you just have to put on a grand feast for breakfast, as if you’re serving the emperor! I bet you’re just some country bumpkin who’s never seen the world, trying to freeload off our family!” The anger immediately rose in Emily’s chest. Emily had been abandoned at an orphanage as a newborn and adopted by a kind rural couple at age ten. After graduating college, she moved to the city for work and later married David. After marriage, David and George often traveled for work. Margaret used the excuse of poor health to force Emily to quit her job and become a full-time housewife. Emily had acquiesced to her wishes, but Margaret’s nitpicking never stopped. Whenever David was away for work, Margaret would find fault with everything Emily did at home, always accusing her of being a freeloader. Emily walked out of the kitchen, slamming down the soy milk forcefully. She was about to argue back when she caught sight of her wedding ring. The fire in her heart slowly died down. Although Margaret had always looked down on her, Emily had seen David’s care and love for her over the years. Moreover, before he left last time, he had told her to wait just one more month. Once he finished his current work, he would take her to move out and live as a couple. Emily took a deep breath and patiently explained: “I didn’t mean to make so much. I just heard Father-in-law come home last night, so this extra portion of breakfast…” Before Emily could finish speaking, Margaret suddenly stood up, grabbed the soy milk that had been placed on the table, and threw it in Emily’s face. “You little hussy, are you trying to act up?! You haven’t even given our family an heir yet and you’re already trying to manipulate me? Let me tell you, you’d better behave yourself, or I’ll make David kick you out of this house sooner or later!” Over the years, Margaret had inexplicably given Emily a hard time, but she had rarely been this directly physical. Emily was stunned for a moment. Meanwhile, Margaret sat down as if she had won a victory and began picking at her breakfast. Emily gritted her teeth and swallowed her anger. Fine, in just one more month David would take her to move out. There was no benefit to falling out with Margaret at this point. Emily suppressed her anger and went back to her room to change clothes. Behind her, Margaret let out a cold snort, as if certain Emily wouldn’t dare do anything to her.

By the time Emily changed and came out, Margaret had already left. The breakfast table looked as if it had been hit by a bomb. Emily repeatedly consoled herself that they would be moving out in just a month. After cleaning up the table, she went to tidy up David’s clothes. The weather had turned cold recently. David had only taken seasonal clothes when he left last time. Emily was worried he might catch a cold. After a busy morning, Emily had just made lunch when Margaret called. “Have you made lunch? Hurry up and bring the food to the mahjong parlor.” Before Emily could say anything, Margaret had already hung up. For years, Margaret had treated Emily like the family’s maid. But for David’s sake, Emily still packed up food for Margaret. She had barely eaten two bites herself before rushing off to the mahjong parlor. “I told you to bring some food and you’re so slow! What else can you do right?” Margaret snapped as she took the lunchbox from Emily, giving her a dirty look. Mrs. Johnson sitting next to her couldn’t bear to watch and spoke up for Emily. “Margaret, your daughter-in-law is already very good. She even brings you food every day. My daughter-in-law is lucky if I see her once a year on holidays.” Margaret wolfed down her food while glaring sideways at Emily with a cold smile. “She’s just some country girl from the sticks. She’s living off my son’s money. Bringing me food is the least she can do to show some filial piety!” By this point, Emily was no longer listening to what Margaret was saying about her. Because she had spotted a familiar pair of muddy old men’s leather shoes. The shoes that had appeared in her home’s entryway last night were now on the feet of Mr. Johnson, who was playing mahjong with Margaret! The person in Margaret’s bedroom last night wasn’t George at all, but Mr. Johnson who always played mahjong with Margaret! Margaret was brazenly having an affair at home! “What are you staring at? Didn’t you hear what I said?” Margaret slammed down her lunchbox. Her tone was fierce, but her eyes didn’t dare meet Emily’s. Margaret shoved the lunchbox at Emily. “Forget it! I’m sick of looking at your face! Hurry up and get out of here!” Emily took the lunchbox and stumbled home in a daze. She never imagined that Margaret, who was so traditional and conservative, would actually have an affair! This was David’s mother after all. It wasn’t Emily’s place to deal with this. But David’s greatest wish was for family harmony. If she really told him about this, who knows what kind of storm it would stir up in the family. Lost in thought, the sky had already darkened outside. Suddenly her phone rang – it was a video call from David. Emily answered the call and saw David’s handsome but clearly exhausted face on the screen. In the end, she couldn’t bring herself to say anything. “Honey, I got the clothes you sent me this morning. I hadn’t even noticed the weather changing. You’re always so thoughtful.” Emily forced a smile, but David sensed something was off. “Honey, did something happen at home? Or did Mom say something to you again? You look so troubled.” As soon as David said this, Emily felt even more guilty. But she still gritted her teeth and denied it: “No, everything’s fine. Just focus on your work.” Before Emily could figure out how to broach the subject, she heard the sound of the front door – Margaret was back. Afraid Margaret would say something unpleasant as soon as she came in and distract David, Emily quickly hung up the call. Margaret seemed to be in a good mood, humming a tune as she came in. Emily thought it over and decided to speak up with a warning. “Mother, Father will be retiring and coming home in a few months. David will be transferring back then too. Our family should live peacefully together.” Emily had meant to remind Margaret not to mess around with Mr. Johnson anymore. But upon hearing this, Margaret glared at Emily with her hands on her hips and started cursing. “Live peacefully? You dare talk to me about living peacefully? Our family took in a hen that can’t even lay eggs like you. How could we possibly live peacefully?” “I just saw you acting all sneaky. Don’t tell me you can’t stand the loneliness and you’re flirting with some man online?” Margaret herself was impure, yet she had the nerve to sling mud at Emily? “David has been living at work for years. If I really got pregnant now, it would most likely be from fooling around with another man!” When Margaret heard the words “fooling around,” her expression changed. She glared fiercely at Emily before turning and storming back to her own room, slamming the door shut.

Whether it was because my words had struck a nerve, or because she knew I had discovered her affair with Mr. Johnson and felt guilty, I ended up having a peaceful month. Margaret would leave the house after breakfast every day. She no longer called me to deliver lunch, and when she came home she would lock herself in her room. We barely even crossed paths. On my birthday, David called in the morning to apologize that he couldn’t make it back due to work. In the afternoon, I received flowers he had sent. The card on the flowers was a poem we loved in college. Reading it brought back all the sweet memories from those days. “You vixen, David’s not home. Don’t tell me these flowers are from some lover of yours!” Margaret started causing trouble again. But I wasn’t worried at all. “Mom, David had these delivered to me.” Margaret scoffed coldly: “Hmph, I knew you weren’t one to be frugal. Making my son waste money buying you flowers!” I couldn’t be bothered to argue with her. I was about to take the flowers back to my room when she called out again: “You ungrateful girl, you don’t even care that your mother-in-law is sick because of you! Hurry up and take me to the hospital!” I immediately became concerned. She had seemed fine earlier – how could she suddenly be ill and need to go to the hospital? “Mom, are you alright? Where are you feeling unwell? I’ll go get the car keys right away!” “What car? Gas is so expensive. The hospital’s not far anyway. Just push me in the wheelchair!” Margaret insisted, so I had no choice but to take her in the wheelchair. On the way, Margaret said she had diarrhea and intermittent fever. The symptoms sounded like the flu to me, but I didn’t dare take it lightly. After all, older people have weaker immune systems. If it developed into something more serious, David would be worried. At the hospital, after hearing the symptoms, the doctor had an odd expression. He told me to take Margaret for a blood test first. A few hours later, when I saw the test results, I was shocked. It was HIV.

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My daughter was diagnosed with kidney failure and urgently needed a transplant. When I found out I was a match, I was overjoyed to lie on the operating table. But when I woke up, I heard my daughter’s cheerful laughter. “Dad, has Aunt Rachel woken up yet? How’s the transplanted kidney working? Finally, we don’t have to pretend in front of Mom anymore. Once Aunt Rachel recovers, we’ll go to the amusement park together!” My blood ran cold. It turns out my husband and daughter had staged this act to get me to donate a kidney to someone else. If that’s how it is, I don’t want this family anymore. 0 The smell of antiseptic assaulted my nostrils as I struggled to open my heavy eyelids. In the pitch-black hospital room, I could only see the faint moonlight filtering through the window. I slowly pushed myself up, a searing pain radiating from the incision site. “Emily…” I instinctively called out my daughter’s name, but my throat was too dry to form complete words. I called out for a while, but no one responded. Just as I was about to lie back down, I suddenly heard familiar voices from the hallway. “Dad, Mom won’t find out, right?” That voice made my whole body freeze. It was clear, cheerful, with a lightness I had never heard before. It was my daughter’s voice. I stumbled out of bed, ignoring the possibility of tearing my stitches. Staggering to the door, I peered through the glass panel and saw her swinging a phone in her hand. Bouncing around… nothing like a patient who had just received a kidney transplant. “Dad, Mom’s still asleep. I snuck out to make a phone call!” “Has Aunt Rachel woken up? Is she feeling okay anywhere? Finally, we don’t have to pretend in front of Mom anymore. Aunt Rachel, do you think I did a good job pretending these past few months?” “Mom’s kidney is finally with you!” “Aunt Rachel, once you’re better, we’ll go to the amusement park together!” Suddenly, my mind went blank. Every word felt like a nail being driven into my eardrums. I couldn’t believe these words were coming from the mouth of the daughter I had lovingly raised for 10 years. Pretending in front of Mom? Did a good job pretending? Aunt Rachel? Was that my best friend of over a decade? My kidney is with her? I bit my lip hard. So for you, this so-called “illness” was just an act you put on? A sharp pain shot through the surgical wound on my waist, but I could no longer feel it. My entire body felt as if it had been submerged in ice water, chilled to the bone. Emily hung up the phone, humming a happy tune. As she turned around, I forcefully dragged myself back to the bed, pulling the covers over myself. The door was gently pushed open. “Mom? Are you awake?” Emily’s voice was deliberately lowered, carrying a fake concern. I kept my eyes tightly shut, struggling to control my breathing. “Still asleep, thank goodness…” She immediately sighed in relief, then started humming again as she left. The sound of footsteps gradually faded away. 0

When the door closed again, I finally opened my eyes. Tears immediately blurred my vision. I trembled as I touched the wound on my side. Beneath the bandages was where my missing right kidney had been. I desperately needed to know some truth. I found my phone on the bedside table. The moment the screen lit up, the lock screen photo of Emily’s radiant smile stabbed at my eyes. That child who I thought needed a kidney transplant to save her life. Now it seemed utterly ironic. I opened the chat history with the contact labeled “BFF”. It was full of mundane conversations. Then I instinctively checked Rachel’s social media profile. Most of it was just daily life updates, nothing unusual. Until I saw Rachel’s last post from three days ago. “In a few days, I will welcome my new life.” The photo showed her in the hospital. But in the corner was a familiar deep black suit jacket. That was the one-of-a-kind custom-made jacket I had specially ordered for him!! I stared at the screen, my fingertips trembling uncontrollably. My chest felt like it was being crushed by a boulder, even breathing became difficult. Tears kept falling from the corners of my eyes. Why? We were all familiar with each other, all known each other for over a decade. One was my best friend, the other my husband of 11 years. I never imagined that the man who once revolved around me, keeping me warm and comfortable, and the daughter I was so proud of would one day deceive and betray me. We were once the couple everyone envied from college. I always thought we would walk hand in hand through life, growing old together. But I never expected that after so many years of trust and companionship, it would all turn to ashes in the face of reality. Now, he had crushed my future with his own hands. Seeing this suit, I was almost certain Jack had cheated on me. There was no need to torture each other anymore. I wiped away the tears I had unknowingly shed for him all night. I wanted a divorce from Jack. As for Emily, I was willing to give her one more chance! Perhaps she had only been manipulated by Rachel. 0

The next morning, Jack entered pushing a breakfast cart. He was wearing that light blue shirt I loved most, carrying a small bouquet of yellow lilies. The flower meaning: Get well soon. To me, it felt bitingly cold. “Wendy, are you feeling better?” His voice was still so gentle, but now it made me nauseous. “I bought the rice porridge you like.” I forced myself to squeeze out a smile. “Much better, just the incision still hurts a bit.” Jack set down the flowers and naturally adjusted my pillow height. This practiced feeling, as if he had done it countless times. “Where’s Emily?” I asked casually. “Oh, she went for a follow-up check. Dr. Zhang said the transplant was very successful, she’s recovering faster than expected.” I stared at him intently. He remained outwardly calm! Even now, he was still lying to me. If I hadn’t accidentally overheard Emily’s conversation with you last night, would I have been kept in the dark forever? When he leaned in close to me, a familiar perfume scent suddenly assaulted my nostrils. It was the fragrance Rachel always wore. After being around her for so many years, I couldn’t mistake it. “When did you change your cologne?” Jack visibly stiffened. Then he nonchalantly pulled away, raising his hand to rub his shirt collar. This motion fully exposed the faint red mark on the side of his neck. A hickey. In all these years, he never allowed me to kiss his neck, saying he wasn’t used to it. Later, I carefully avoided it. “I felt like I’d gotten used to the scent of the cologne you gave me before,” he said, avoiding my gaze. “I switched to a different fragrance, I think it smells nice. I’ll let you try it next time.” My gaze was fixed on his neck. That glaring mark felt like a slap across my face. No wonder he suddenly wore such strong cologne, it was to cover this up. “Is that so?” I said softly, my nails digging deep into my palm. “What brand is it? I’ve been wanting to change my perfume too.” Jack’s eyes began to dart around. “It’s just… something I bought at a regular mall. I don’t remember the name.” I almost laughed coldly. He had grown tired of our relationship of over a decade, just like he’d grown tired of that bottle of cologne I gave him. My heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand, each beat bringing pain. The spoonful of hot porridge in my mouth, no matter how I tried to swallow, wouldn’t go down. Noticing my discomfort, he frowned slightly. “What’s wrong? Is it not to your taste? I specially went to that place you liked in South Bridge to buy it.” I suddenly gave a bitter smile. My smile made him look at me with a hint of confusion. You probably bought it out of convenience. Then, I shook my head at him. “It’s nothing, I just feel like you’re so good to me! If only it could always be like this!” He looked at me adoringly, raising his hand to stroke my head as usual. “It will be. Don’t think too much, your only job now is to rest well.” I subtly dodged that hand. That hand that had touched who knows how many people. I turned over, pulling up the blanket. “I’m tired, I want to rest. You should go check on Emily.” “Alright… you sleep for a bit then.” “Oh, could you bring me a fresh set of clothes from home later? I’m not used to the hospital gowns.” “Sure, I’ll be back soon.” That hand hovering in mid-air finally stroked my head a few times. I instantly widened my eyes, my scalp tingling. 0

When the door slammed shut, fighting the urge to vomit, I reached for the call button by the bed, summoning a nurse. When the nurse entered, I was vigorously wiping the hair Jack had touched with disinfectant wipes. I only stopped when my scalp was burning with pain. “Hello, could I see Emily Leaf’s medical report and my kidney transplant report?” I asked, forcing a weak smile. “I’m the patient’s mother.” The nurse didn’t suspect anything and gave me the two authentic hospital reports. Both were ones I, the person involved, had never seen before. The reports showed — Patient diagnosed with acute respiratory infection, otherwise normal. What a “normal” diagnosis. And my report at the end — signed by Rachel Song. I took out my phone and quickly snapped a few photos for evidence. By the time I had everything prepared, it was already evening. Jack still hadn’t returned. Home was less than 20 minutes from the hospital!! I gripped my phone tightly, my fingertips almost turning white. Where had he gone? The answer was obvious. I still masochistically dialed that familiar number. The call was answered after just a few rings. Laughter could be heard on the other end, mixed with a soft woman’s voice. “Wendy.” Jack’s voice suddenly became guilty. The background noise instantly went quiet. “Jack, when exactly are you going to bring me the clothes I asked for? I need them tonight.” My voice was frighteningly calm. “Emily was just clamoring to go out and buy some things. I lost track of time!” I stared at the ceiling, my fingertips digging into my palm. Inwardly, I laughed coldly. This one little thing I asked you to do, you still can’t manage for me now. “Didn’t Dr. Zhang say Emily needed to rest? How can she go out?” Jack was momentarily speechless. Until our daughter’s sweet voice came through. “Mom’s the best, don’t blame Dad. I was the one who asked Dad to take me out.” My nails dug deep crescents into my palm. I took a deep breath, trying hard to suppress the anger and desolation welling up inside. “Emily, don’t lie to Mom. I’ll ask you one more time, did you want to go out or did Dad make you go?” I still held a glimmer of hope for my daughter. The other end of the line suddenly went quiet. Then, Emily’s voice became shrill. “Mom, you don’t believe me now? I’m telling you, I asked Dad to take me out!! I—” “…….” One sentence was enough to shatter my illusions. Before she could finish, I abruptly hung up and threw the phone forcefully onto the bed. I lowered my head, laughing bitterly as I muttered. “Why? I gave everything for this family. Jack is one thing, but why is even my daughter the same?!” At this moment, I felt like a failure in marriage. My husband, cheating midway through. And with my best friend, no less. My daughter, now breaking my heart. If that’s how it is, I no longer hold any illusions about them. There’s no point in wasting my breath. I raised my hand and forwarded those “evidence” that didn’t quite look like evidence to my alternate social media account. Though it didn’t have many followers, it was enough to reach internet celebrity Rachel’s eyes. Along with a caption: “Shocking! Husband conspires with daughter to fake illness, tricks wife into donating kidney to mistress!”

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My husband, Damon, was a man reborn. He claimed his survival hinged on the happiness of another woman, Ivy – the designated heroine of this twisted plot. But he swore his heart belonged only to me, that he’d never betray me. *Never.* When I learned he had only three years left to live, I mustered every ounce of courage. I wanted to have a child with him, a precious piece of our love story, a future we could hold onto. The very day I found out I was pregnant, I was ambushed on my way home, snatched by kidnappers. They tortured me for three days and three nights, then dragged me onto an operating table. In my darkest, most desperate moment, I heard Damon’s voice from the doorway, mingling with the doctor’s. “Mr. King, are you really going to harvest your wife’s organs? Everyone in our circles knows how devoted you are to her. Are you truly doing this to her?” Damon’s voice was strained, laced with a barely concealed pain, but his words cut deeper than any knife: “Willow will be taken care of. Losing an organ won’t affect her life. But Ivy… if she loses an organ, she’ll fall gravely ill, even die. Once Willow fulfills her role in this plot, standing in for Ivy, I promise I’ll make it up to her a thousand times over!” The words slammed into me like a physical blow, a lightning bolt of pure, devastating truth. As the doctor walked in, I closed my eyes, consumed by despair.

“This woman is tough as nails, still fighting after three whole days! My damn legs are practically jelly, hahaha!” On the dissection table of that shady clinic, countless men came and went. They’d injected me with some kind of drug, pinning me down so I couldn’t move an inch. All I could do was lie there, enduring the mechanical, repulsive acts of those vile men. “Where’s the doctor? Didn’t they say we were supposed to harvest her organs after we were done? Where are they?” Amidst the chaos of voices, I faintly heard Damon’s voice again. “Once they’re finished, go in and take the organs, just like I told you!” The doctor’s voice trembled. “Mr. King, please, let’s just stop. Your wife has suffered enough already…” “No!” Damon’s voice was firm, unwavering. “In the original story, Ivy was first assaulted, then had her organs harvested. Every step must be followed, no exceptions!” Hearing that, my world shattered around me. Damon and I had been married for three years, our love as vibrant as ever. That very morning, when I left for the clinic alone, Damon had insisted on driving me, warning me about the ‘unsafe’ backroads. I thought he was worried. Now I know he was just making sure those monsters didn’t miss their target. Another man climbed off me. My limbs were shattered, my body completely ravaged. I was at the absolute limit of my endurance. Suddenly, a sharp pain tore through my lower abdomen, an uncontrolled spasm that ripped through me. “What the hell is this?” The doctor rushed in from the doorway, taking one look and gasping. “This… she’s *pregnant*?!” “…” The room fell silent. Even the kidnappers, who’d been laughing hysterically moments before, seemed stunned by the sight. My baby… it was gone. It had left my body. Even the animals who had relentlessly tortured me for three days fell silent. But my own heart was filled with a soul-numbing grief, so profound it left me utterly numb. Only tears streamed freely down my face. When I first learned Damon only had three years to live unless Ivy was happy, I had desperately focused on my health, drinking countless cups of vile-tasting herbal teas, all to ensure I could conceive this child so smoothly. Now, this child, who had only just arrived – I’d only found out about him a few days ago – was ripped away from me in such a brutal, horrifying way. “Why did you stop?” Damon’s voice came from outside, confused by the sudden silence. He must have thought the special drug he’d injected me with made me deaf, because he spoke without any attempt to hide his words. The doctor’s voice was shaky, almost filled with pity. “Mr. Ki-King, your wife… she…” “Enough!” Damon’s impatient voice cut him off. “Don’t tell me what she looks like now! I don’t want to hear it! It’ll kill me!” “Your wife is in a critical condition, Mr. King. I believe we should terminate the plan and provide immediate medical assistance.” the doctor advised. Damon was silent for a moment. Just as I thought his heart might finally soften, his voice returned, colder than ice. “Start the organ harvesting. Begin with the heart!” The doctor froze, dumbfounded. “The heart? Mr. King, that’s impossible! Without her heart, your wife…” “Of course I know the heart is vital! Do you think I don’t feel pain? She’s my lover!” Damon roared, his voice filled with a performative anguish. “But it *has* to be done to this extent! If Willow doesn’t take this hit for Ivy, Ivy will be on the brink of death, and then *I* will truly die!” “If I die, who will give Ivy happiness?” “Just take the heart! Ivy’s sister needs it, and the other organs must follow the plot. Once it’s all over, I’ll immediately bring people to rescue her and send her to the hospital for an artificial heart transplant.” Damon’s voice was calm, steady, as if he’d planned this all out long ago. The doctor sighed, motioning for his assistant to bring out the professional tools. My soul was trapped, screaming silently within my broken, exhausted body. But the sharp blade sliced into my chest regardless.

Damon’s plan went smoothly. I had no strength left to fight, not even a tiny bit. The doctor took my heart and left with his team. I tried with every last ounce of will, but I couldn’t move my hands, chained to the table. All I wanted was to touch my baby at the very end of my life. Even though he was no longer in my body, even though he was just a blood clot now… He was my baby! I just wanted to touch him, to tell him not to be scared. A monstrous wave of grief drowned me. My wrists strained against the restraints, leaving only raw, bloody streaks. Damon had told me before that after he was reborn, he needed to protect the story’s heroine. Only if she was happy could he continue to live. But he’d also said I was his one and only, that when it came to anything *within* our relationship, he would always be loyal to me. It was only for things *outside* the scope of our love that he would try to ensure Ivy’s happiness. I had trusted him so completely. I never imagined he would go to such lengths for Ivy. Even without a heart, it felt like a thousand knives were tearing through my chest. Just then, the door burst open with a bang. Damon appeared, frantic, his eyes red-rimmed. “Willow! My Willow, I’m so late! Oh God, your chest…” My body remained limp, showing no signs of consciousness, but he didn’t stop his performance. He clutched my hand, tightly, then barked orders at the people behind him. “Spare no expense! Find those who hurt my Willow, make them pay!” “And immediately find the world’s top specialists! Give Willow the best artificial heart! If she doesn’t live, I’ll make you all regret it!” My soul was calm, numb. Only hatred surged within my empty chest cavity now. I hated that man. I was rushed to the hospital. Just as Damon had promised, the world’s top artificial heart team began my treatment. During this time, my broken limbs and ravaged body also needed treatment. It was three months before I, barely clinging to life, was finally transferred from the ICU to a regular room. Damon stayed by my side day and night, never leaving, showering me with care. When the doctor said I would never be able to have children again, Damon teared up, his voice filled with feigned sorrow. He gripped my hand, repeating, “It’s all my fault, Willow, all my fault! I didn’t find you in time! I don’t care that you can’t have children anymore. I promise I’ll be good to you!” In the past, I would have gently told him not to shoulder all the blame. But *he* cared? What right did he have to care? Everything was *his* doing! Just seeing him made me tremble with rage. So, I pretended to sleep every day, refusing to look at him. Once my condition stabilized, more visitors began to arrive. And finally, one day, I saw the person I least wanted to see. “Damon, darling, I’ve come to see you.” It was Ivy. “I was so heartbroken to hear about Willow. You must have been so sad, unable to sleep, Damon. I brought you some ginseng soup.” Ivy held out a thermos. Damon took it. “Thank you. I’ll feed Willow first, then I’ll drink it.” “Ginseng soup is most effective when hot.” Ivy’s soft voice chimed. Damon hesitated for a moment, then relented to Ivy. Damon always said that when it came to our relationship, he was loyal only to me. He claimed that even when he occasionally helped Ivy, it was only to make her a little happier, all so he could stay with me for a few more years. But look at the way he gazed at Ivy – with such tenderness. I used to lie to myself, convincing myself he treated her well only to extend our time together. But looking at him now, who was the person he truly longed to stay with? After finishing the ginseng soup, Damon received a call from the doctor and left in a hurry. The room was suddenly empty, save for Ivy and me. Ivy smiled, pulling up a chair beside my bed, and fiddled with my IV line. “Are you awake, Willow?” I opened my eyes and stared at her, emotionless. Ivy’s smile was sickeningly sweet. “I heard you had quite the… pleasure, Willow. Served by a dozen strong men for three days and three nights. To survive that? You really have nine lives!” “Nine lives, indeed. As long as I’m alive, you’ll never be Mrs. King, will you? That must be agonizing for you, right?” I’d always known Ivy had feelings for Damon, but I’d never exposed it, hampered by the fact that Damon needed to appease her to survive. Sure enough, at my words, Ivy’s expression darkened instantly, as if I’d struck a nerve. “What’s so great about you, a woman with an artificial heart? Do you know, your heart was given to my ‘sister’ by Damon? And actually, I don’t even have a sister. I just mentioned it casually, and Damon dug out your heart for me.” I remained unmoved. My heart was already gone; whether it went to her or to a dog made no difference to me. Seeing my lack of reaction, Ivy continued, “Just two days ago, I got into Iris’s dance company. Damon introduced me.” I froze. Iris’s dance company was world-renowned, and they had plans to recruit one American dancer this year. Before the accident, they had contacted me. Even after I told them about my pregnancy plans, they hadn’t withdrawn their offer, saying they would keep the spot open for me. Dance was my dream. Even though I loved Damon so much, I had only quietly postponed this dream for the sake of having a child. How could Damon give *my* place to Ivy?! “That spot belongs to me!” I tried to sit up, but Ivy looked at me like I was the most pathetic creature on earth. She pulled out my IV line and all the other life-sustaining machines. “Willow, look at your shattered limbs and your fragile, artificial heart. What makes you think you can compete with me? Not just this spot, but Damon too, he’ll be mine. Just you wait!”

Ivy left, and Damon didn’t return. I didn’t want to die, but Ivy had disconnected all the wires of my life support. Without the machines, my life would quickly fade. I struggled, trying to press the nurse’s call button, but my broken limbs couldn’t even manage that simple movement. By the time the nurse found me during her rounds, I was once again in critical condition, barely clinging to life. My situation rapidly deteriorated. The specialists who had previously treated me had left after my condition stabilized, and the doctors at this hospital, despite their best efforts, couldn’t maintain my vital signs. “Where’s Mr. King? Get him here now! The situation is critical, he needs to sign the critical illness notice and contact the specialists!” “And we can only begin rescue efforts once a family member signs and acknowledges the risks!” “Mr. King seemed to be dropping off Ms. Ivy earlier. Ms. Ivy said it was hard to get a cab from there, so I assume Mr. King drove her himself.” Hearing the conversation outside the room, my mind went blank. I didn’t want to die. I struggled, “Call him, tell him to come back…” The doctors seemed to realize. “Quick, call him!” Only my phone had Damon’s number, so they used it to dial. The call was answered quickly, but after the doctor explained my situation, Damon’s voice was utterly devoid of emotion. “I’m taking Ivy home right now. I don’t have time to come back and sign anything.” The doctors were stunned. Taking a casual friend home versus his wife’s life – wasn’t the choice obvious? “Mr. King, you might not have heard clearly. Someone just stopped the machines. Your wife’s artificial heart is failing, and the risk is extremely high. If we don’t act now, she could die at any moment! We need the contact information for the specialists you had before, and you need to come back! This is about your wife’s life!” Damon’s impatience grew even more obvious. “Stop playing games with Willow! Ivy just left her room, and she was perfectly fine. How could she suddenly be critically ill?” “And when Ivy came out, she even had two slaps on her face! She had enough strength to *hit* someone, but couldn’t reconnect her own life support? Give the phone to Willow.” The doctor hesitated, then placed the phone near me. I barely had the strength to speak. “Damon… save me…” Silence stretched on the other end of the line. It lasted so long that I thought Damon had heard the weakness in my voice. But when he finally spoke, it was a condemnation. “That’s a terrible act, Willow. I know you’re jealous. Why I’m good to Ivy… if others don’t know, how can *you* not? I’m doing this so we can stay together for even longer, you understand, don’t you?” “No… it’s not… I really…” “Stop playing games, Willow. Be good. I’ll come back to you once I’ve dropped Ivy off. She’s a girl, it’s not safe for her to walk alone at night. Wait for me, I’ll be back soon.” I was bewildered, helpless, my heart turning to ashes. Why would he misunderstand me? In the past, when he was good to Ivy, had I ever been jealous? I was truly dying… “Damon!” The urgent desire to live made me call out his name, stopping him from hanging up. “Please come back, please save me. I need you right now… please…” Tears streamed down my face. My desperate plea, stripping away all dignity, only bought me less than five seconds of silence from Damon. Suddenly, Ivy’s voice came through the phone. “I’m sorry, Damon. Maybe I should just go home by myself. I feel so bad that Willow misunderstood and put you in such a difficult position. Just pull over, I can walk… it’s fine, nothing bad will happen in broad daylight.” Damon’s voice filled with tenderness. “Just sit still, don’t move when the car hasn’t stopped… Willow, be good. I know you’re fine. I’ll be back to you very soon, just half an hour.” Damon hung up, leaving me and a silent resuscitation room. I wanted to live, but he thought I just wanted his company? I truly didn’t want to die, but what could I do now? Overwhelmed by anger and despair, I suddenly coughed violently. All the machines attached to me shrieked frantically. The medical staff rushed over. Even without a signed consent, they began resuscitation efforts. But what was the use? My artificial heart was failing. I was dying. I gripped one of the doctor’s hands. “Tell Damon…” Damon had just arrived at Ivy’s house when a sudden chill ran through him, as if he’d lost something incredibly important. And the chill deepened. Ivy was showing Damon her dance outfits. “For the Iris company performance, I’ve got a few options. Which one do you think looks best, Damon?” Damon barely glanced at them. The growing dread made him restless. He suddenly had an overwhelming urge to see Willow. He didn’t know why, just a sudden, urgent need to see her. Just then, his phone rang. It was a doctor from the hospital. “Mr. King, I’m sorry to inform you. Your wife’s artificial heart just failed. Resuscitation efforts were unsuccessful. She has passed away.” Damon shot to his feet, his face etched with disbelief. “What did you say?!” Ivy jumped, flinching back. “Damon? What’s wrong?” Damon’s fear exploded. He felt it was a lie, yet an unsettling premonition gnawed at him.

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I was playing basketball with Scarlett, the school’s infamous rich girl, when I accidentally broke her Cartier watch. My boyfriend, Justin, carefully cradled her wrist, then turned to me and snapped, “How could you be so careless?! Can you even afford to pay for that?!” It’s just a Cartier, right? I’ve got a drawer full of Vacheron Constantins and Rolexes at home, and I’ve never seen him look at me with that much concern. The student council organized a women’s basketball game. While trying to steal the ball from Scarlett, my elbow hit something hard. It’s impossible to avoid bumps and scrapes in a game, so I didn’t think much of it. But then she screamed, “Stop! Hazel, you broke my watch!” It was just a watch. Why was she so dramatic? The game was heating up, and our team was about to win. I really didn’t want to stop. “I’m sorry, I’ll pay for it. Can we talk about this later? Let’s just finish the game first.” Scarlett pulled a dirty move, snatching the ball from my hands and throwing it out of bounds. The game was forced to stop. I wasn’t happy about it. She held her head high. “Hazel, this is a Cartier.” I glanced at it. I’m not really into watches and rarely wear them. I just knew it was a Cartier, but I had no idea about the series or how much it cost. It definitely wasn’t an antique, so it probably just cost several tens of thousands of dollars. Fixing the crystal wouldn’t cost much. There was no need for her to get so worked up. Everyone gathered around. “Oh my God, Scarlett, what are you going to do?” “The watch crystal is shattered like this, seriously, it makes my heart ache just looking at it!” Seeing everyone looking so distressed, I asked, “What? Is this watch really expensive?” Someone who knew their stuff said, “Of course! It’s a Blue Balloon!” Scarlett shoved her wrist in front of me. “Over forty thousand!” Everyone gasped. That was a bit different from the several hundred thousand I’d imagined. At that price point, fixing the crystal would probably only be a thousand or two. She looked impatient. “I have to send this watch to the boutique, and then they’ll have to send it to Switzerland for repairs. It’ll take at least a month, back and forth!” How annoying. I said, “I’ll just get you a new one.” I just wondered if she’d like a Vacheron Constantin. My parents’ gifts to me usually start at tens of thousands of dollars and up, but I don’t like wearing watches, so I just store them at home. I thought it would just be a spare one for her. “A new one?” Scarlett scoffed. “This isn’t some knock-off! My dad brought it back from Switzerland for me!” I wasn’t planning on getting her a fake one anyway. What was wrong with this person? I’d heard she had some money. She swapped between LV and Chanel bags daily and often treated classmates to coffee. But my family wasn’t exactly struggling either. That new building at school? My dad donated it. I asked her, “So, what do you want to do?” My boyfriend had just gone to get me water and was only returning now. After figuring out what happened, he looked at me reproachfully. “How could you be so careless?!” How was I supposed to know someone would wear a watch while playing basketball?! Doesn’t it feel uncomfortable? Doesn’t it affect your game? “Hazel, look, can you even afford to pay for this?!” Justin had never said such harsh words to me before. He carefully held Scarlett’s wrist, as if it were the most precious thing in the world. It was just a stupid watch. My elbow still hurt. “So, Scarlett, what do you want to do? How much do I owe you?” She still looked heartbroken. “It has to go to the store first, then we’ll see.” Fine. “Okay, then just show me the receipt when you get it, and I’ll transfer the money.” That seemed like a pretty reasonable solution. After all that drama, I didn’t feel like playing anymore. Everyone else had lost their enthusiasm for the game too and just stood around chattering. “Damn, how can Hazel be so calm? That’s at least a few thousand, right? It would take months of saving every penny to pay that back.” “She probably has no idea how much it costs to replace the crystal! She probably thinks it’s just putting on a piece of glass.” I usually kept a low profile at school. I never flaunted my wealth. My clothes and dorm supplies were very simple. Even though they were expensive, they didn’t have big logos, so most people couldn’t tell what brand they were. In a situation like this, I couldn’t exactly show them my bank account balance and shout, ‘I’m rich!’ Whatever. I couldn’t be bothered with them. I picked up my stuff and left the basketball court.

Justin caught up to me and put an arm around my shoulder. “Hazel, are you mad?” It would be a lie to say I wasn’t. He hadn’t considered my feelings at all. “Don’t be mad, babe. I did that for you. Didn’t you see me winking at you just now?” I actually hadn’t noticed. “I talked to you like that to shut Scarlett up. If I criticized you, she’d be too embarrassed to keep going.” Is that how it works? Why did it feel a bit off? “And I kept emphasizing that you couldn’t afford it. I thought Scarlett would back down, but I had no idea you’d be so silly, you totally missed my point! You immediately agreed to pay her!” I just thought it wasn’t that much money. My housekeeper spends more than that on groceries every day. There was no need to stand there arguing about it. “Hazel, I’ll pay half for you.” I waved my hand. “No need.” “We’re a couple. If we get married later, it’ll be shared assets. Half and half, perfect.” He took my hand, his smile sweet. So, he was being so calculating because he was planning our future. How nice. I leaned my head on his shoulder. “Do we have any plans for tomorrow?” Tomorrow was Valentine’s Day, and my family didn’t know I was dating. My brother, Declan, had said we should hang out, since we were both single, and wanted to take me out. He sighed. “Hazel, I have to tutor students tomorrow.” Oh, I had hoped he could meet my brother. I felt a little disappointed. But his eyes were firm. “It’s all for our future.” Justin had always been hardworking. As his girlfriend, I should support him. “Okay… fine.”

Early on Valentine’s Day, Justin asked me to come downstairs. He held a bouquet of red roses and a pretty gift bag. As soon as I came down, he gave me a big hug. “Happy Valentine’s Day, babe. Even though I can’t be with you, we still need to have our moment!” I thought I wouldn’t see him at all today. Turns out he’d prepared a gift for me. After chatting for a bit, he left. I went upstairs happily and only opened the gift in my dorm room. It was a YSL gift set. My roommates exclaimed, “Wow! Hazel! Your boyfriend is so good to you!” “That must have cost a lot! No wonder your boyfriend’s been busy lately, he was earning money to buy you a gift.” He’d given me what he thought was the best. I was very satisfied. Chloe, one of my roommates, a beauty blogger with a keen eye, looked at the gift box but didn’t say anything. Seeing her silence, the other two roommates, afraid of putting their foot in their mouth, also kept quiet. I asked, “Chloe, is there a problem?” She picked up a lipstick and looked at it, a bit hesitant. “I can’t quite tell right now. Let me have my friend take a look.” My heart dropped. I’d never encountered fakes before, nor paid attention to the differences between real and fake. But if Chloe said that, it was almost certainly fake. She was just trying to save my feelings by saying she’d have a friend look at it. My roommates tried to comfort me. “Oh, Hazel, maybe Justin just doesn’t know brands and got scammed.” “Yeah, how would guys know what’s real and what’s fake?” That made sense too. I sent Justin a message: [Where did you buy this gift set?] He replied a few minutes later: [From the official online store.] He even sent me a screenshot of the purchase history from the official store. Could you buy fakes from an official store? Or had Chloe really misjudged it? Justin: [What’s wrong, babe? Don’t you like it?] Me: [No, it’s fine. I love it.] Justin: [Glad you like it. I’m off to tutor students now. We’ll talk later.] My brother took me to an amusement park, but my mind kept wandering. It wasn’t until Chloe sent me a message: [Fake.] She sent several pictures showing the differences between the authentic product and the fake. [Justin most likely bought it on Wish.] She sent a link to a YSL gift set that cost just over a hundred dollars. The details in the buyer’s photos were identical to mine. [Hazel, if he tells the truth, maybe he just didn’t know and thought YSL was that price. But if he lied to you, you’re better off without a guy like that.] I didn’t know what to say. I asked her, [Can you buy fakes from an official online store?] [Let’s put it this way: this set is an obvious fake at first glance. Even if an official store sold fakes, they’d only fake the quality, making it hard to notice.] But Justin really did buy a gift set from the official store. I sent the screenshot to Chloe. She replied, [What if that official store gift set wasn’t meant for you at all?] She was right. What if Justin bought two sets—one from Wish and one from the official store—and gave one to me and the other to someone else? That would make sense. But how could that be? How could Justin do something so despicable? We’d been dating for over a year, and our relationship had always been good. He surely wouldn’t do that to me. Just as I was thinking this, I saw a familiar figure in the crowd. It looked like Justin. Wasn’t he supposed to be tutoring students? Why would he be here?

I was about to go after him when my brother came back with ice cream. Seeing my hurried expression, he asked, “What’s wrong?” “I think I saw a friend.” In the blink of an eye, that figure disappeared into the crowd. I licked my ice cream and sent Justin a message: [Where are you?] He replied half an hour later: [Tutoring a student.] As if to prove it, he sent another picture: a child bent over a desk writing. [What’s wrong, babe? Missing me? How about I come find you after my class?] Once the seed of doubt is planted, it easily takes root and grows. I suddenly wanted to video call him. But with my brother next to me, I had to drop the idea. After my brother politely declined the nth girl asking for his number, he finally had time to pay attention to me. “Hazel, you seem a bit down.” “Yeah.” “Is it because you didn’t get a Valentine’s Day gift?” I shook my head. My brother didn’t care what I was thinking. He snapped his fingers. Then, a group of exaggeratedly dressed “princes” seemed to pop out of nowhere and surrounded me. “Pick whichever ones you like most. I’ll have them hang out with you.” My brother always did this crazy stuff. How was I supposed to handle ten or so of them? “Oh, bro, I…” My brother’s jaw dropped. “What?! You want all of them?!” When did I say that? He waved his hand. “Fine, kids make choices, but we adults have it all.” I was a bit speechless. “Forget it, bro. Let’s just go get some food.” The princes were all handsome, but I had a boyfriend. It wouldn’t be right to do that. But very soon, I changed my mind. Not long after we got in the car, Chloe sent me another message. [Hazel, weren’t you with Justin today?] [He’s busy tutoring students. I’m out with my brother.] But then she sent me a photo. It was Justin and Scarlett playing the claw machine together. The location was the amusement park I was currently in. This amusement park wasn’t cheap. Other places might be a dollar a game, but here it was ten dollars for a single coin, and one try cost twenty dollars. Scarlett was already holding several stuffed animals. With Justin’s skill, he probably wouldn’t even get one in ten tries. He bought me a hundred-dollar gift set on Wish and tried to fool me with a screenshot of an official store purchase! But he was spending hundreds, maybe even a thousand, dollars at the amusement park playing the claw machine for Scarlett! Chloe asked me, [Hazel, do you want to come over now? I can keep an eye on him for you.] [No, Chloe, you go hang out with your boyfriend. I’ll handle this myself.] I couldn’t take it anymore. I called Justin directly. One ring, two rings, three… He didn’t pick up until the fifth! “Hazel, what are you doing? I’m in class! The student’s parents are right here!” I took a deep breath, trying my best to control my emotions. “Video call me.” “I’m really busy here. I’m tired after a full day of teaching. Don’t be unreasonable, okay?!” His tone was incredibly impatient. This time, he didn’t even bother making up a lie. “Am I being unreasonable, or do you just have a guilty conscience?” He snapped, furious, “Hazel, what do you mean by that? I’ve been working so hard for our future, and now you’re doubting me?!” He kept saying it was all for our future! But my future wasn’t going to come from him sucking up to some rich girl! I hung up, sent him the link and the photo, and left a message: [We’re over.] Then I blocked and deleted all his contacts. When did he start seeing Scarlett? That authentic YSL gift set must have been for Scarlett too. Scarlett, that kind of rich girl, so proud, claiming she never bought second-hand goods, despising vintage and antiques. But a person like that actually liked stealing other people’s boyfriends?

After dinner, my brother drove me back to school. I hadn’t walked more than a few steps when a bank text came in. My brother had transferred seventy-five thousand dollars to me. [Hazel, bro sent you some spending money. Spending makes you happy~] My smile hadn’t even fully formed when I heard a loud shout from behind me. “Hazel! I never thought you’d be such a gold-digger!” It was Justin. I didn’t have a good look on my face when I saw him. I just wanted to walk away quickly. But he wouldn’t let up, grabbing my arm. “I saw you get out of that Maybach! Who were you out with today?!” The pot calling the kettle black? Fine, I’ll clear things up with him. “You weren’t tutoring anyone today at all!” He took a deep breath. “Yes, I was out with Scarlett. I thought if I made her happy, she wouldn’t pursue the watch thing.” It was astounding he could even come up with such a ridiculous excuse. Of all days, why Valentine’s Day? Didn’t he know what day Valentine’s Day was? Did he really think I was an idiot? He softened his voice. “Hazel, I did it for you.” I sneered. “What does that have to do with me? Did I force you to pay her back? Did I force you to go to the amusement park with her? Did I force you to play the claw game with her?” My sudden outburst left him speechless. “Justin, next time you try to pass the blame, could you at least come up with a better excuse?” I stepped back, creating distance between us. But he closed in again, took my hand, and looked at me with a sickly sweet look. “Hazel, I like you.” I felt a little sick. “This was really unavoidable, you know. I’m a senior, about to enter the professional world. I just wanted to find a good internship.” “Scarlett’s family owns a company. I thought maybe she could…” I understood everything. “Hazel, love without material things is like a pile of loose sand; it’ll scatter without a breeze. I just wanted to give you a better life.” Great, quoting clichés now. He’d really mastered that line. I laughed, but it was out of anger. “Justin, stop lying to yourself. You just wanted to take a shortcut. Using ‘giving me a better life’ as an excuse is just to cover up your guilty conscience and despicable actions.” “We’re done. I can’t accept your Wish ‘grand gift.’ I’ll return it tomorrow.” My parents had given me the best since I was little. I wasn’t going to degrade myself like this. That stuff would probably give me a rash, right? “I sent you the screenshot! Who said it was bought on Wish? Was it your roommate? She’s just jealous!” He suddenly raised his voice, glaring angrily, completely different from his usual gentle, amiable self. As the saying goes, the louder they get, the emptier their words sound. He just assumed I didn’t know much about brands and thought I’d be easy to fool. Laughable. What was Chloe jealous of, a hundred-dollar item? She was swamped with gifts from brands all the time. What would she be jealous of? “You gave the authentic official store gift set to Scarlett, didn’t you? Buying fakes and then using the official store’s screenshot to trick me—only you could think of that.” One authentic gift set to charm two people. How ‘resourceful.’ Justin panicked. “You can’t take back a gift once it’s given!” I shrugged. “Oh, then I’ll throw it in the trash.” “Transfer me the money! Nineteen dollars!” What a cheapskate! How could he even say that?! It was just nineteen dollars. Normally, I wouldn’t bother arguing with anyone over that. But I couldn’t stand this insult! I sneered. “Did you forget to buy shipping insurance, perhaps?” His expression froze. Damn! I hit the nail on the head! “I’ll have your roommate return it to you tomorrow. As for me transferring money, no way.” He pointed at my nose and yelled, spit flying in my face. “Hazel, you really are a gold-digger! And you’re cheap and poor!” “You want me to buy you something from an official store? Look at yourself, do you even deserve it?!” So, it wasn’t that he didn’t have money. He just thought I only deserved a nineteen-dollar gift? I looked down at myself. A custom-made bag worth over thirty thousand dollars, shoes worth eight or nine thousand… Everything I was wearing probably added up to a nice condo in a major city. How did I not deserve it? “Scarlett wouldn’t even let you carry her shoes, she’d be too embarrassed!” My eyes stung. I never thought he’d see me as cheap goods, not even a fraction as good as Scarlett. If I kept arguing with him, I’d just burst into tears. I turned and walked away. He continued to babble behind me. “Hazel! No one will ever treat you better than me! They’re just playing with you! Do you really think anyone will genuinely like you?!” “Don’t expect me to beg you to get back together this time! Scarlett has already agreed to be with me! You’ll regret missing out on me, you’ll see!” “So what if you rode in a Maybach? I’ll just wait for you to be abandoned!” I sped up my pace. If he wasn’t ashamed, I certainly was.

Disappointed in love, I went on a shopping spree. My brother really does understand women. Spending money genuinely makes you happy. After returning to my dorm, I even bought gifts for my roommates. Chloe gasped, holding a new Dior bag, unable to put it down. “Girl, where did you make a fortune?” I smiled, saying nothing. The main reason was that Chloe had my back. When she heard I’d been tricked by a scumbag, she recorded a video about the absurd situation and shared it with her followers. She didn’t name names or reveal too many details. But her followers knew she was a student at University A. So now everyone was guessing who the cheating, super cheap scumbag at University A was. Some even posted questions on the campus gossip page. Anyway, Justin would have to keep a low profile for a while. Otherwise, he might accidentally reveal his true colors. … Friday afternoon, I went to a student council meeting. Before I even entered, I heard people chattering inside. “…She’s just come into money somehow, buying all those bags to give away. I heard her ex-boyfriend Justin spilling details, saying she was two-timing, hooking up with a rich kid on the side but also unwilling to let go of her ex, a real potential catch.” That sounded exactly like something Justin would say. Calling himself a potential catch, how shameless. “Even if a rich kid gave her bags, she wouldn’t flaunt them by giving them to others, right? I bet they’re knock-offs…” “Exactly! And last time on the court, she said she’d pay Scarlett for a new watch. Oh my God, that’s a Cartier, not some dollar store cheapie!” I was thoroughly enjoying eavesdropping when someone suddenly tapped my shoulder. Just as I was about to yelp, that person covered my mouth. I turned my head; it was Liam, the student council president. He gestured for me to be quiet, then let go of me and stood by the door, listening in with me. Wasn’t this guy always cold, distant, and perfectly put-together? Why was he doing something like this with me? The people inside kept repeating the same things, and I quickly got bored. Liam leaned close to my ear. “Done listening?”

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He threatened me, forcing me to be his model. Edgy, disturbing, pushing every boundary imaginable. He made me wear revealing clothes, posing as if I was caught in a candid shot. He’d even fill the bathtub with fake blood and make me soak in it. The thick, metallic scent of it made me nauseous; I’d turn pale with terror, shaking uncontrollably. But my brother, Caleb, would just keep clicking the shutter, murmuring, “Perfect.” Then, right in front of me, he’d compile the photos into a collection and upload them. His smile was manic, his face twisted into something grotesque and eerie. I had to escape! I *had* to! Staying with Caleb Hayes any longer, I’d surely be tormented to death! My name is Aurora Bell, and I work as an alternative model. My daily routine involved using props to create photo collections, which were then sold through special channels. Because I produced a lot of material and the quality was good, I gained a reputation in this industry, and my collections sold at a premium. But I had no money. The one who got me into this business was Caleb Hayes, my step-brother—we shared neither father nor mother. All the money from the photo sales went straight to him. Two years ago, my mom, Eleanor, and I moved into the Hayes household after she married Richard. The very first day, I knew my life here would be hell. During our first dinner, Caleb dumped a bowl of soup, meat and all, right onto my head. Richard Hayes was furious and went to hit him, but my mom held him back. She said Caleb was just a kid, that it was normal for him not to accept us yet, and that we shouldn’t get angry at a child. Then, she told me to go change. From that moment, I clearly realized that in this house, my mother wouldn’t protect me. Caleb obviously realized it too. So, while I was changing, he quietly slipped into my room. The click of the shutter made me whip around in terror. Then I saw Caleb, holding a dark DSLR lens, grinning maliciously as he clicked the shutter again. Caleb had taken photos of me while I was changing. My body, my face—everything was clear as day. Caleb threatened me, demanding I become his model. If I dared disobey, he wouldn’t just kick me out; he’d post all the photos he’d just taken! That same day, he made me wear his button-down shirt and pose in various explicit ways on the couch for his photoshoot. The shirt was barely long enough to cover my thighs. I cried and refused, but that only earned me a brutal beating from Caleb. He warned me this was the first time. If I didn’t cooperate next time, he would absolutely make good on his promise. As he left, he flaunted the DSLR in his hand at me, a smug, triumphant smirk on his face. I was terrified, but I didn’t dare ask my mom for help. I could only wait for Richard Hayes to come home that night, then deliberately roll up my sleeves and walk past him. Richard Hayes clearly saw the bruises on my arms. But he only frowned, said nothing, and went back to looking at his documents. I clearly realized that Richard Hayes wouldn’t stand up for me again. I was utterly alone, resigned to being Caleb Hayes’s model. But Caleb only got worse. He gradually became unsatisfied with me just wearing shirts or short skirts for those “innocent” private shoots. He started buying lingerie and specific outfits that clients requested, forcing me to wear them. Any refusal would always result in a beating. He would even deliberately photograph me covered in bruises, my face streaked with tears. He was careful when he took those photos, though, never showing my full face. Those explicit private photos sold incredibly well, and our reputation in that niche circle grew. Caleb had tasted success and became utterly shameless. The day he threw a piece of lingerie that barely covered my private parts at me, I completely broke down. I cried, begging him not to make me wear such things. He unbuckled his belt without hesitation and started hitting me. I’d truly had enough of this life. I just felt that being beaten to death by Caleb might actually be a release. So I held firm, refusing to compromise. Caleb got tired of hitting me, and he was furious. He cursed, tore my clothes, and then used the tattered lingerie to tie me up like a rag doll. “You ungrateful whore! You don’t want to wear it? Fine, I’ll just shoot you like this!” Caleb angrily snapped photos of me, compiled them into a collection right in front of me, and uploaded them. The result? That collection sold out! And my nightmare truly began.

That collection’s massive sales made Caleb realize that more explicit photos had a bigger market. So, from then on, Caleb’s photoshoots became increasingly extreme. Edgy, disturbing, pushing every boundary imaginable. He’d use ropes to bind me tightly. The red ropes contrasted sharply with my pale skin, making it incredibly provocative. For this, he’d even specifically studied rope art. He’d also take me outdoors, forcing me to wear revealing clothes, posing as if I was secretly caught on camera. I’d cry in terror every time. But if I dared to resist, he’d just tie me up outside and force me to shoot. He’d even fill the bathtub with real blood, making me soak in it. That’s right. Caleb used real blood. The thick, metallic scent of it made me nauseous; I’d turn pale with terror, shaking uncontrollably. But Caleb would just keep clicking the shutter, murmuring, “Perfect.” He said it was the only way to achieve the Gothic private photo style he envisioned. Gloomy, eerie, mysterious, terrifying! I looked at Caleb with dread. His smile was manic, his face twisted into something grotesque and eerie. I felt like the person in front of me was truly insane! I had to escape! I *had* to! Even if he posted all the initial nude photos he’d taken, I didn’t care anymore. Staying with Caleb Hayes any longer, I’d surely be tormented to death! But there was no one in this house who could help me; I had to plan my escape carefully. I thought for a long time and decided the most feasible way was to get into university and leave this house naturally. Some special programs at certain universities offered scholarships. As long as I got in, I could complete my studies without a single dime from home. If I could just make it through four years of university, I’d have the ability to live independently and finally break free from Caleb’s control. If all else failed, I’d just go abroad! So, I studied with every fiber of my being. My university entrance exam scores certainly didn’t disappoint me. I secretly applied for a fully-funded program at a university far across the country. The day I received my admission letter, I was so excited I wanted to cry. I felt like I could finally escape Caleb’s clutches. But then, Caleb suddenly appeared in front of me and snatched the admission letter from my hand. “Going out west? You really were planning to escape.” My blood ran cold; I couldn’t breathe. When did he get here? To keep Caleb from finding out, I’d specifically sent the admission letter to my friend’s house. But how could he know? Caleb smirked, looking at me. “Did you think your little tricks could escape my notice? I’ve been watching you the whole time!” He grabbed both ends of the admission letter, poised to tear it. “No!” I frantically lunged at him, clinging to his arm. That was my only hope! I cried, asking him why he wouldn’t let me go. I knelt on the floor, begging him to give me a chance at life. I don’t know if my pleas worked, but Caleb scoffed and handed the admission letter back to me. “Fine, I’ll let you go, but you have to cooperate with me on one big shoot.” “To be honest, I’ve been shooting you for years, and I’m sick of it. Now I’m famous; I have a bunch of models begging me for shoots every day. I don’t even care about you anymore.” “So, as long as you cooperate fully and we finish this one collection, I’ll let you go.” The temptation was too great. I agreed. I told myself that no matter how hard it was, I had to cooperate with Caleb. But I never imagined that Caleb had no intention of letting me go! The collection he wanted to shoot was called, *Death*! He wanted my life! I never dreamed Caleb would go to such extremes for this photoshoot. That day, he found a bunch of glass shards and old furniture from somewhere and started smashing them crazily in my room, leaving it in utter chaos. Then, he pulled out a long white dress and told me to put it on. I was surprised. Because Caleb almost never made me wear such normal clothes for his shoots. Caleb said this time, he wanted to capture a pure image amidst the ruins. I needed to be clean, untouched by dust, free of any vulgarity. He would make this collection perfect, a university gift for me. When he said this, he smiled so gently. He even reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. I felt a flicker of happiness, a tiny bit of hope, believing he truly wanted to let me go. But as soon as I went to change, I found that he had set my room on fire! Caleb had poured a large amount of solid alcohol in my room. The fire immediately flared up. I was terrified, screaming as I tried to put it out. But Caleb grabbed my wrist, twisting me back. I screamed for help, but Caleb was excitedly taking photos of me surrounded by flames. The fire grew larger, already reaching my clothes. I tried to hide, but the bed behind me had also been set ablaze. I heard Caleb laughing maniacally. He said that capturing the destruction of something beautiful before your eyes was the most impactful artwork! I didn’t want to die! So, I jumped out the window!

Recalling that scene still made me tremble, sobbing uncontrollably. The burns and fall injuries on my body stung with agonizing pain. The IV pole beside me rattled as I thrashed. A female officer beside my hospital bed handed me tissues, patting my back to calm me down. “So, you jumped out the window to escape?” The officer asked once I seemed calmer. I choked out a nod. Officer: “You were on the fifth floor. Weren’t you afraid of dying?” “I wasn’t thinking that far…” Officer: “What was Caleb Hayes doing when you jumped?” “I… I don’t know, he was probably taking pictures.” Officer: “The fire was that big, and he was still taking pictures? He wasn’t scared?” “He’s insane!” My emotions flared up again. The female officer beside me once again patted my back, signaling me to calm down. About five minutes passed. Officer: “So, when the fire broke out, Caleb Hayes kept taking pictures, and when you jumped, he didn’t stop you?” I steadied myself and nodded again. Officer: “Do you know he was burned to death?” “He’s dead?” I looked at the officers in shock. Seeing them nod, an uncontrollable euphoria surged through me. “Good! He’s finally dead! That monster is finally dead! Hahahahaha…” I laughed maniacally, but as I laughed, tears streamed down my face again. “I hate him, I truly hate him! Every single day for the past two years, I wished he would die!” “So you killed him.” The officer’s cold voice sent a shiver down my spine. I immediately retorted, “I didn’t!” Officer: “Don’t be so quick to deny it. Take a look at this first.” The officer handed me a phone. Seeing the images on the screen, my entire body trembled. “Take it away! Get it away from me!” “He forced me! He made me do it all!” I covered my face, sobbing uncontrollably again. The officer had shown me a video. The protagonist of the video was me. I was wearing heavy makeup, a provocative nightgown, with a card bearing a name dangling from my mouth, posing seductively for the camera. And the name on the card was Caleb Hayes. I didn’t have the courage to watch the rest. Because I knew very well that the latter part of the video showed me half-undressed. “He forced me… he really forced me…” I kept repeating the phrase, crying until I felt like I would pass out. But this time, the officers didn’t comfort me. Once my emotions stabilized, I looked up and met their stern gazes. A chill immediately spread through my heart. But what they said next made me feel like I’d plunged into an icy abyss. “Qianying Turner, your testimony does not match the scene’s condition.” “The body’s burning was severe, and the face was completely disfigured. If what you say is true, that he was conscious when you fell, then he couldn’t possibly not have tried to save himself.” “Moreover, the door at the accident scene was locked from the inside. We now reasonably suspect that you murdered Caleb Hayes.” “How can you suspect me?!” I questioned them agitatedly, suddenly sitting up and yanking the IV pole again. But the female officer, who had previously been so gentle in offering tissues, firmly pressed down on my shoulder, forcing me to remain seated on the bed. “We’ve already found that your original name is Qianying Turner, and James Turner is your father.” “Three years ago, James Turner died from a fall. At that time, Caleb Hayes and his father, Richard Hayes, lived in the building your father fell from.” “Afterward, Caleb Hayes and his father Richard Hayes moved. Five years ago, your mother married Richard Hayes.” “If you confess the connection between these events, you might still get a lighter sentence.” The officers’ dark eyes peered at me, as if they could see into my very soul. would be taken for questioning. But I wasn’t worried. I had already guessed that the police would find out about my father. My father was a window cleaner. Cleaning the glass exteriors of high-rise buildings was his daily job.

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The night I almost died during labor, my husband, Dylan, was off on a honeymoon abroad with Serena, his first love. With tears blurring my vision, I begged him to take me to the hospital. But he just shoved me away with disgust. “Why are you being so dramatic? It’s just giving birth. Serena can’t handle stress, I need to be with her to help her unwind and recover.” When I woke up in the hospital, my eight-month-old baby was gone. Half a month later, Dylan returned with Serena, only to find I had changed. At three in the morning, he asked me, still fragile from my recovery, to perform a surgery for Serena. I nodded. During a research conference, he demanded I give my three-year thesis to Serena. Without a word, I handed it over. When he even told me to give up my Head of Department position to Serena, I calmly resigned from the hospital. Serena, nestled in Dylan’s arms, looked smug. “See, Dylan? Just put Chloe through a little hardship, and she’ll listen to everything you say.” Dylan looked utterly pleased. “If you’d just listened to me sooner, you wouldn’t have had such a complicated birth. But since you’re being so understanding, I might consider giving you another child.” But what Dylan didn’t know was, we were no longer husband and wife. And I had already accepted the incredible offer from the Swiss Medical Research Institute. In three days, I would leave this place, never to see him again.

“There’s an emergency, high-stakes surgery in Ocean City, next door. Serena isn’t feeling well, but this patient is extremely important. You need to handle it.” Dylan, with a pale-faced Serena wrapped in his arms, spoke to me in a commanding tone. I was lying in my hospital bed, an IV drip still in my arm, and the incision from my C-section throbbed with a dull pain, a constant reminder that I was still in my postpartum recovery period and barely able to move. “I just had a complicated birth half a month ago. I’m still recovering, and my stitches are still bleeding. I can’t…” Dylan’s brows furrowed in anger. He slammed his hand on the table, pointing at me and snapping. “You’re just jealous of Serena, that’s why you don’t want to help her. These are all excuses! And if you hadn’t been so disobedient during your pregnancy, you wouldn’t have lost the baby!” “Stop being so difficult! This is a work requirement! It’s an emergency! Serena is genuinely unwell, and for the patient’s sake, you *must* go! That’s an order!” Serena, nestled in Dylan’s arms, looked at me with a taunting, mocking smile. Just then, a SnapChat message popped up from Maya, Serena’s assistant. “Bring everything needed for the surgery. I expect to see you in thirty minutes.” Maya’s demanding tone made my brows furrow. A wave of desolation and sorrow washed over me. Maya used to be *my* assistant. She’d been with me since she graduated. I’d done everything I could to help her, both in her work and personal life. I thought we were like sisters. But it turned out she was just trying to curry favor with Dylan. When Serena was suddenly appointed to our department, Maya volunteered to be her assistant. Dylan’s changing attitude towards me also made Maya and everyone else in the department lose respect for me, even brazenly bossing me around. Dylan had unilaterally given Serena my clinical thesis, which I’d spent three years researching. Furious, I confronted him about it. Dylan just shrugged, utterly nonchalant. “Chloe, you got what you wanted – you married me, and you became Head of Department because of me. You’re thriving both professionally and personally, while Serena has nothing. What’s the big deal about giving her your paper? Can’t you just be compliant for once?” I couldn’t accept that three years of my blood, sweat, and tears were just given away. I contacted the publisher, demanding a change of author. But when Dylan found out, he took all my research notes, making it look like I had plagiarized. It became a blemish on my academic record, leading to my suspension from the hospital and the scorn of everyone. I frantically confronted Dylan, but he threatened me with divorce if I didn’t admit to it. Such incidents happened countless times between Dylan and me. At first, I would break down in agony, questioning if I truly was as selfish and petty as Dylan claimed. But now, my heart was numb with pain. Driven by my professional duty, the instinct to save a life, I gritted my teeth and carried on. Every bump during the flight was torture. Cold sweat soaked my clothes, and I had to secretly take strong painkillers. The surgery lasted eight grueling hours. My legs were trembling, and the gauze on my abdomen was already soaked crimson with seeping blood. When the last stitch was done, and I saw the patient’s vital signs stabilize, my vision went black, and I was caught by a nurse from Ocean City Hospital. She looked at my pale, haggard face and said indignantly, “Dr. Chloe, you’re too dedicated. You’re in this state, why isn’t your husband stopping you from working?” Right. My husband not only didn’t stop me but commanded me to leave my hospital bed and risk my life for Serena’s sake. Thinking of this, my heart felt like it was pierced by an ice pick, hurting even more than the surgical wound on my abdomen. But I’d grown used to such things ever since Serena returned from abroad. At first, I thought it was just Dylan caring for a junior colleague. But after seeing his inappropriate actions with Serena, I knew their relationship was far from simple. Whether it was my prenatal check-ups or my difficult labor, Serena would call Dylan away from me, even if she just had a minor bump or bruise. I cried frantically, asking Dylan why, but he just told me impatiently that Serena had taken the blame for a failed surgery for him back in college. Dylan would always watch me break down with cold eyes, then console me by saying, “My relationship with Serena is strictly professional. She’s struggling with her mental health right now, so of course, I need to take care of her. Besides, I just want you to be more compliant.” And after I cried countless times, Dylan stopped explaining or comforting. Instead, he would yell at me, “You’re insane! You really need to go see a therapist! Can’t you just be compliant for once?” Ten years of a relationship had amounted to him ignoring my breakdowns and driving me to the brink of madness. It wasn’t until Serena repeatedly sent me intimate photos of them, trying to provoke me and force me away, that the truth finally hit me. It was time for Dylan and me to end this.

Stepping out of the operating room, I felt all the air leave my lungs, and I slowly sank to the floor, leaning against the wall. Dylan, who was at the doorway, saw me and started walking towards me, reaching out to help me up. Then his phone rang. “Dylan, I feel so awful. Can you come see me?” Serena’s fragile voice floated from the phone. Dylan looked at me, hesitating, a flicker of worry in his eyes. But his attention was completely snatched away by Serena’s pained gasp on the call. “Chloe, wait here for me. I’ll come pick you up after I’ve settled Serena.” “Don’t wander off. Your body can’t handle it.” I watched coldly as Dylan withdrew his hand and rushed out. When Dylan’s figure disappeared down the corridor, I stood up, resigned, leaning on the wall as I walked out. I knew I wouldn’t be waiting for Dylan. He had forgotten me countless times because of Serena. I decided to take the train back myself. On the way, I closed my eyes, exhausted. This relationship was, ultimately, just a farce. My phone vibrated. It was a SnapChat story from Serena, and she’d even tagged me. A perfectly composed selfie, with the VIP suite of some exclusive club as the background. Serena looked radiant and shy, her makeup flawless. A stark contrast to my current state. Serena was holding a rich, restorative broth, smiling sweetly at the camera. And wrapped around her waist was a hand, long and slender, with a wedding ring engraved with “C.C.S.” on its ring finger. The caption read: “Just a little under the weather, but *someone* was so worried he insisted on personally watching me finish my health tonic~ And he’s taking me to see the latest movie too! Thank you, my dearest Dylan.” I stared intently at Dylan’s hand, with my wedding ring, wrapped around Serena’s waist. I stared at Serena’s smug, triumphant face. I knew then that her “not feeling well” was just another act to win Dylan’s sympathy. And Dylan wasn’t stupid. He knew exactly what was going on, or perhaps he simply didn’t care about the truth. He enjoyed Serena’s dependence on him, and he enjoyed the deep love I, the fool, had for him. For this twisted play, he was willing to sacrifice me, his wife, still recovering in a hospital bed, then comfortably accompany his “junior colleague” to drink health tonics and watch movies. “Ha, Chloe. You’re truly pathetic.” I tilted my head back, feeling the pain and weakness radiating through my body. My gaze lingered on the glowing phone screen, fixed on Dylan’s wedding ring. The name etched for love now felt so ironic. Serena and I were never a choice for him in his heart, not after ten years of dating and three years of marriage. Only because he was so sure I’d never leave him, Serena always came first. The last flicker of hope I held for Dylan was extinguished. I took off my matching wedding ring and placed it on the table. This time, I wouldn’t wait for Dylan to turn back. I opened the email with the offer from the Swiss Medical Research Institute and didn’t hesitate to send my acceptance. With my qualifications and successful clinical record, even with a blemish on my academic history, many hospitals were still eager to recruit me. Years ago, I’d stayed by Dylan’s side to help him grow into one of the hospital’s leaders. Now, I’d shot myself in the foot. I called my lawyer to prepare the divorce papers. I didn’t want anything from our life here. I just wanted to completely cut ties with Dylan. In three days, I would leave and start a new life.

Back at the home Dylan and I shared, standing in the corner where the baby crib used to be, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. The burning pain from my abdominal wound couldn’t make me ignore the deeper heartache within. I held the printed job offer from a top hospital and my plane ticket for three days later, lost in thought. Dylan pushed the door open. Seeing me, his face registered a fleeting awkwardness. He then completely ignored my ashen face, his gaze falling instead on the document folder in my hand. “Doesn’t your wound hurt? Why are you moving around? Get back in bed! What are you holding?” I casually hid the documents behind my back. “Surgery case files for archiving. I need to send them back to Ocean City Hospital for备案.” Dylan didn’t seem to doubt my words. He solicitously helped me to the bedroom, settled me on the bed, and tucked in the covers. “Back in Ocean City, Serena wasn’t feeling well, so I didn’t have time to pick you up. I was actually just about to leave, but you came back.” I stared into his eyes and gave a short, bitter laugh. “You didn’t have time, and you didn’t send anyone else to pick me up either.” Dylan knew he was in the wrong and didn’t reprimand my sarcasm as he usually would. Instead, he turned and went to the living room. I couldn’t be bothered with him anymore. I closed my eyes, hoping to get some rest. Not long after, a knock on the door woke me. Dylan then came into the bedroom carrying a bowl of soup. He spoke coldly, as if just completing a task. “Drink this. The doctor said you need to replenish your qi and blood.” I turned my head and saw the obvious takeout bag in the living room trash can. My blood ran cold. On our wedding day, Dylan had promised me he would always make me homemade meals. And as a doctor, Dylan had countless times stated he would never eat takeout. Yet now, he was only willing to fob me off with it. Just then, Dylan’s phone rang. He casually placed the soup bowl on the nightstand and answered Serena’s FaceTime call. Serena, looking pale on the screen, whined to Dylan, “Dylan, my chest hurts… I can’t sleep…” The background of Serena’s video was the VIP suite I had longed for during my pregnancy. When I had mentioned it to Dylan back then, he had refused, saying, “That suite is reserved for an important patient who needs treatment occasionally. Chloe, let’s just stay in a regular room.” Now I knew that Dylan’s “important patient” was none other than his Serena. Dylan’s voice suddenly softened when he heard Serena. “Be good, don’t be scared. I’ll be right back to you. Make sure you get your IV drip.” “Okay, Dylan. I’ll wait for you. I also want to eat the lotus root and pork rib soup you make.” “Alright, alright, I’ll make it for you, my sweet little foodie.” Their flirting and sweet-talking, if you didn’t know the situation, would make you think they were a very loving couple. A sudden cramp in my abdomen made me cough out in pain. Dylan seemed to snap back to reality, glancing at me guiltily, then comforting Serena before hanging up. “What’s wrong, Chloe? Does it hurt again?” “I’m fine. If you have something to do, just go.” Dylan didn’t expect me to actually tell him to go be with Serena. His eyes lit up with delight. “Chloe, you finally understand me. You’ve finally become compliant.” “Even in her hospital room, Serena is still worried about you, helping organize your miscarriage medical records. She really cares about you. You’re too weak for high-intensity work right now. Let her take over your Head of Department position.” I snapped my eyes open, staring at Dylan. My nails dug into my palms. I searched his eyes for any trace of reluctance, but found nothing. Could Dylan really be so heartless, giving away the position I’d pursued for years with just a single sentence to Serena? Then, remembering the Swiss Medical Research Institute, I withdrew my gaze, looked at the ceiling, and nodded. Dylan’s eyes immediately lit up. His voice filled with satisfaction. “That new drug development project you were in charge of before your complicated birth? She’ll take it over and publish it. She needs accomplishments to gain respect.” That project was the culmination of my blood, sweat, and tears. Dylan had once convinced all the group leaders to support me unconditionally, but now it was all hers too. Fine. If I’m going to cut ties, I’ll make it a clean break. I swallowed the bitterness in my heart, my voice hoarse. “Okay.” Dylan was overjoyed. He habitually reached out to caress my cheek. I stretched out my hand and brushed his away. He suddenly grabbed my wrist, his fingers squeezing tightly as he stared at my empty ring finger. “Where’s the ring? Where’s your wedding ring? You know what that symbolizes!” Of course I knew. It was the symbol of our promise to be together forever. But he had broken that promise long ago, so why blame me? Why act so devoted now? I spoke numbly. “My hand swelled after the miscarriage. I took it off. Lost it.” Dylan furiously threw my hand away. “You lost the baby, and you can’t even hold onto this one memory? Serena still cherishes the good luck charm I gave her three years ago, keeping it by her bedside!” “I think you’ve truly lost your mind. You’re not fit for work anymore. I expect to see your resignation letter tomorrow.” The same rigid attitude, the same refusal to be denied. Dylan didn’t wait for my answer, striding out the door and slamming it shut. I pressed my throbbing temples, reassuring myself that it would all be over soon. The next day, I placed my resignation letter and the divorce papers together on Dylan’s desk. Still fuming, Dylan didn’t even glance at me. He picked up the resignation letter and started signing it, and naturally, the divorce papers were signed too. Dylan flung the signed documents at me, growling. “Get lost! Go home and reflect on yourself, or next time you’ll be crying and begging me to come back.” I bent down and picked up the divorce papers Dylan had signed, a mocking smile on my face. Now, I wouldn’t cry for him anymore. Serena flaunted various gifts from Dylan and her colleagues on her SnapChat. I shredded my miscarriage diagnosis report and the blood-stained surgical scrubs, then picked up my plane ticket abroad. The moment the taxi trunk closed, a message from Dylan flashed on my phone.

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Last life, both I and my husband’s first love went into difficult labor at the same time. My husband, without a moment’s hesitation, gave the critical blood transfusion to Ashley, leading to my child being brain-damaged from birth. He took Ashley and their child to the city to start a business, hitting it big and becoming a renowned entrepreneur. They lived in a sprawling mansion, enjoying the high life. But my child and I? We were left behind in a remote town, enduring daily humiliation from the locals. Until a group of thugs lured my son into an old, dilapidated outhouse and drowned him in the cesspit. Soon after, I aged beyond recognition, barely forty but looking eighty – a withered, broken husk of a woman. When my husband finally returned, flaunting his success, Ashley, nestled in his arms, still looked like she was in her twenties. Seeing me, Ashley smirked, a triumphant glint in her eyes: “Granny, mind stepping aside?” I felt my blood boil, then my world went black. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the delivery room, in the throes of labor.

A searing, tearing pain ripped through me, and I realized I’d been reborn to the moment of my difficult labor. Right now, Blake’s first love, Ashley, was in the delivery room right next to mine. Clutching my belly, I rasped out, “Give me blood! A transfusion!” The next second, my mother-in-law, Brenda, stormed into the delivery room. Her face was a thundercloud, and she didn’t hesitate to slap me, hard. “Blood transfusion? Do you know how much that costs?” “If you hadn’t insisted on coming to this small community clinic to give birth, the money we saved could’ve lasted us for ages!” My face stung with throbbing pain, but I bit down hard on my lip. If I hadn’t insisted on coming here, with the abysmal hygiene conditions at home, both my child and I would have been dead! My voice, raw with pain, was barely a whisper. “Please! I’m having a difficult labor, give me blood!” “Otherwise, the baby will be brain-damaged!” Brenda scoffed. “Why are you so overdramatic?” “I think you’re just not trying hard enough, you just want to slack off, that’s why you can’t push him out!” I ignored her taunts, grabbing the nurse’s cold, clammy hand. “Please, help me!” The nurse glanced at my lower body, her expression grave as she nodded. “She’s hemorrhaging badly! Prepare for a blood transfusion!” Just as the nurse was about to leave, Brenda blocked her path, her shifty eyes glinting with a cruel light. “Our family won’t pay for any blood transfusion! We don’t have the money!” “What’s a little blood? Every woman bleeds during childbirth! She just needs to tough it out.” I clenched my teeth, screaming at the nurse, my voice raw, “I have money! I’ll pay for it! Please, get me the blood!” At that, Brenda finally moved aside, but she kept muttering about how dramatic I was. Just as the nurse returned with the blood bag, Blake burst in and snatched it away. “Ashley is also in difficult labor! She needs the blood now! Give it to Ashley first!” My heart seized. “No, Blake! I’m hemorrhaging too!” Blake scoffed. “Who are you trying to fool?” “I know you can’t stand Ashley, but how could you lie about something so life-or-death? Have you no shame?” “You’re screaming your head off, but Ashley’s in so much pain she can’t even speak!” I gritted my teeth. “I’m carrying *your* child! Can you really be so heartless?” “You and Ashley have the same blood type. You can donate your blood to her, it’s the same thing!” As soon as I said that, Brenda scowled and started yelling at me. “Is that how a wife talks? His blood is his life force, darling. Donating it would drain him, weaken him! How dare you suggest such a thing?” Before I could retort, Blake was already turning to leave with the blood. He said, “You’re so strong, you can just grit your teeth and get through it. But Ashley… she can’t!”

I gritted my teeth, sinking into a pit of despair. Had I been reborn only to watch myself and my child slide back into the tragic fate of my previous life? Just as the darkness threatened to swallow me whole, a name pierced through the chaotic fog in my mind. Liam. My childhood sweetheart. After I married Blake in my last life, I lost touch with Liam. I’d only vaguely heard he’d become the manager of the local general store. He worked nearby. He could definitely help me. I mustered my last ounce of strength, gripping the nurse’s cold, clammy hand. “Nurse… please…” My voice was a ragged, desperate rasp, like sandpaper on stone. “Help me make a call. Get someone to bring me blood!” But at that moment, Blake reappeared at the delivery room door. His gaze, sharp as a razor, cut into me. “Skylar, what are you playing at?” “You still have the energy to talk. You’re not even in difficult labor. Why are you calling people?” Every single word he uttered felt like a poisoned ice pick, a brutal stab to my heart. My vision swam with black spots, and a tearing pain ripped through my lower body. I bit down hard on my lip. “Blake, the child I’m carrying… is *your* child too!” He scoffed, a chilling sneer twisting his lips. “Precisely because it’s my child, I can’t let him be born into a lie.” “You’re not in difficult labor at all. You just saw Ashley having complications and decided to fake it to make me pity you!” I never imagined that Blake truly intended to abandon my child and me to our deaths! Just then, the nurse cried out in a panic, “The patient really is in difficult labor! She needs a blood transfusion immediately, or the baby’s life will be in danger!” Blake merely sneered. “Oh, you’re good! You even bribed the nurse to trick me!” “Tell me! How much did she pay you to put on this act with her?” The nurse’s face went white. She struggled, crying, “Let go of me! Saving lives is urgent!” Blake looked like he’d heard the funniest joke. “Save her? What’s worth saving about a woman full of lies and a vicious heart?” At that moment, Ashley’s sharp scream echoed from the next delivery room. The coldness on his face instantly melted into anxious desperation, as if scorched by flames. He didn’t even spare me another glance, turning and rushing into the room next door. Before he left, he spoke to Brenda, his voice dark. “Mom, stay here and watch her!” “Let’s see how long she can keep up this act!” His words, so casually tossed, felt like poisoned icicles, sealing shut the last sliver of hope I clung to. My vision went black, and all the strength drained from my body in an instant, leaving me hollow. I finally stopped struggling, stopped crying out. Because I realized I had completely lost hope. “No! The patient can’t hold on much longer!” The nurse’s anxious voice pulled me back to a sliver of consciousness from the fog. “If she doesn’t get blood soon, the baby will suffocate inside her!” A tearing pain ripped through me, but it was nothing compared to the agony in my heart. For me, and for my child! “Is this your family’s child or not? Are you going to just stand there and watch him die?” Brenda’s shifty eyes swept coldly over my pathetic form on the bed, not a trace of compassion on her face. A moment later, a chilling, twisted smile stretched across her face. “Difficult labor, you say?” “I have a folk remedy that works wonders.” My heart clenched, and a terrifying premonition seized me, cold and relentless.

Brenda’s eyes were fixed on me, and she slowly, deliberately, uttered the rest of her sentence. “When a pregnant woman has difficult labor, you find a horse, make it step on her belly a few times, and the baby will come right out.” “Once the horse’s hoof falls, the baby will be delivered naturally!” *Boom!* My mind went blank. How could any sane person suggest something so monstrous? She wanted to stomp us into a bloody pulp! “No! No!” I don’t know where the strength came from, but I violently propped myself up halfway on the bed, screaming hysterically with my raw, torn throat. “You wouldn’t dare!” She scoffed, her smile laced with venom and malicious delight. “It’s not up to you.” Every word she spoke was like a death sentence. “You’re carrying a child of the Blake family. How it’s born is our decision!” No sooner had she finished speaking than she turned and walked out of the delivery room. Soon after, Brenda returned with two burly men. “Drag her out!” The two men nodded and started walking towards me, step by heavy step! The nurse spread her arms, blocking them, her face pale. “You’re trying to kill her!” “She’s just given birth! She’ll die like this!” I thrashed with all my limbs, but my meager strength was like trying to stop a bulldozer with my bare hands against two grown men. One grabbed my arms, the other lifted my legs, and they brutally dragged me off the bed. I was lifted and carried out like a sacrificial lamb, stripped of all dignity. They carried me to the entrance of the clinic. A crowd of curious villagers had gathered. “What’s going on? Why are they carrying out the woman who’s giving birth?” “Must be that her in-laws found out the baby isn’t theirs! Serves her right!” “No wonder! She deserves it!” Brenda led a yellow ox, the very one that had pulled the cart bringing me here, from a short distance away. She brought the ox in front of me, its snorting breath hot on my face. Brenda’s wrinkled yet menacing face, her eyes glinting with undisguised malice. “No horse? No problem.” “An ox will do just fine!” Waves of despair washed over me. Were my son and I destined to die, not even getting a whole body back? What had I ever done wrong to deserve this? Just then, I saw Blake standing at the clinic entrance. I cried out as if clutching a lifeline. “Blake! The child I’m carrying is your son! Do you really want me to be humiliated like this?” “If I die, aren’t you afraid of what people will say about you?” But my desperate screams only earned me Blake’s cold scoff. “Who told you to fake difficult labor and lie? It’s good my mom gives you a lesson!” At that, my eyes closed, and all hope vanished. No one could save me now. I only hated myself for choosing the wrong man, for dooming my son in two lifetimes. Brenda led the ox closer, its foul-smelling saliva dripping onto my face. She gave a chilling smirk: “It’ll be over soon. Just one stomp and the baby will come out smoothly!” As Brenda cracked the whip, the ox lifted its hoof high, about to come down on my body! In that split second, I heard a familiar voice! “Stop!” That voice… “Skylar, is that you?” I wrenched my eyes open and saw a familiar figure at the edge of the crowd.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “297023”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #重生Reborn