Seven years after my wealthy birth family took me back, the “imposter” daughter had become the victim, and I, the true heir, the family’s punching bag. My brother Justin threw me to the homeless. My fiancé Lucas abandoned me. My parents forced me to take the blame for their crimes. Slandered and abused, I fell from the fiftieth floor. I survived. Now, as they drown in regret, desperate to atone, I hold the evidence. I swore all of them would pay. … 1 Sylvia’s POV Seven years after returning to this elite family, I was still the unwanted stand-in. Emily, chasing fast cash, had been working tables at a high-end club. She was drugged, assaulted, and brought to the E.R. with severe internal bleeding. The red glare of the emergency sign burned my eyes. Sarah, sobbed into my father George’s arms, cursing me. “Emily has suffered for seven years! Why can’t you just leave her be?” Every wail was an indictment of my existence. Justin, eyes bloodshot like a cornered animal, dragged me from the hospital by my hair. “Sylvia, every bit of Emily’s pain is on you. You hear me?” He threw me into the stinking homeless encampment under the bridge. To the filthy, unkempt men gathered there, he tossed a single, casual line. “Tonight, she’s all yours.” In utter despair, I saw Lucas, my fiancé. Like clutching at a final lifeline, I lunged and seized his pant leg. He recoiled sharply, as if from something vile, and kicked my hand away in disgust. Then I understood. In this charade of substitution, I had lost everything. So I let myself fall into the darkness, a hoarse laugh tearing from my throat. “If my return was a mistake, then let the real her have it all back…” By dawn, the men had scattered. My skin was a map of bruises and cuts. My clothes hung in shreds, barely covering me. The walk home was a gauntlet of stares, each one a needle against my skin. I pushed open the front door. The living room was thick with the cloying smell of honey. My mother, Sarah, was spooning warm honey water into Emily’s mouth, her movements delicate, as if handling a cracked piece of porcelain. Emily shrank in her arms like a startled rabbit. “Sylvia, I’ll leave right away… please don’t be angry…” Mom couldn’t bear it. Tears of profound hurt welled in her eyes. She turned to me, her face a mask of heartbreak and accusation. “Why must you torment your sister?” “Have you done enough!?” My father George’s face darkened instantly. “Your sister was fighting for her life, and you were out all night? Where exactly were you?” 2 Sylvia’s POV “Look at you! A ghost! You look nothing like a Tristian! I’ve raised an ungrateful viper!” I stood frozen, my eyes burning. See? They only care that you were out all night. They never see the shame, the wounds, the filth. I was about to explain when Justin rose from the sofa and tossed a stack of photos onto the coffee table. They slapped down and scattered across the floor. He curled his lips, his smile never quite reaching his eyes, replaced instead by a chilling, cutting disdain. “You want to know where she was? Take a look.” The scattered photos showed me in my violated state from last night. Each picture showed a different man on top of me. Sarah gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide as if she were seeing me, her daughter, for the very first time. George stared at the photos, his eyes brimming with fury. He abruptly snatched a blue-and-white antique vase from the table and, without hesitation, hurled it at me. The vase sliced through the air with a sharp whistle, carrying with it his extreme roar of rage. “You shameless wretch!” A loud crash. The vase shattered against my forehead, ceramic shards slicing my scalp. What a pity. That was Mom’s favorite antique vase, I think. Warm blood quickly blurred my vision. “The dignity of the Tristian family, generations of it, shattered by a lowlife like you!” “We truly shouldn’t have brought you back. You should have died in a gutter!” I wiped the blood from my face. No pain, no grievance, only numbness remained. “Alright, I’ll do as you say.” “What did you say?” My father’s impending accusation suddenly stopped. I looked at him, repeating each word clearly. “I said, I’ll die.” “Let Emily come back.” My mother looked at me in disappointment, shaking her head, “Sylvia, how could you have become like this!?” My father gasped for air, sputtering several times, “You… you have the nerve.” 3 Sylvia’s POV Justin continued with his cruel remarks. “Good riddance, saves the Tristian family from having to dirty its ground. Who knows if you’ll actually do it.” Hearing my words, Emily’s eyes, deep within, held not a hint of fragility, but a smug satisfaction. She savored the sight of my entire family’s accusations, as if watching a thrilling play. I looked at Lucas. In the past, no matter how much Justin and my parents favored Emily, Lucas had always stood by me. But this time, he wouldn’t even look at me. “Don’t upset yourselves over this,” he said, his voice unnervingly calm. Then he delivered the final blow. “Sylvia has chosen to sink. No one can save her. For the future of both our families… I wish to end my engagement to Sylvia and marry Emily instead…” Those words were an ice dagger, plunging straight into my chest, the cold seeping through my veins, freezing me to my very bones. A bucket of ice water dumped over my head wouldn’t have left me feeling colder, more utterly frozen. George, heartily approved, nodding heavily. “Good! I’ll personally discuss it with your parents then.” Hearing Lucas propose to her, Emily couldn’t hide her joy, a flush of triumphant color bloomed on her cheeks. In that moment, I finally understood completely. In this family, I was their biological child, it was true. But my mistake was coming back. And my mistake was foolishly believing I could replace Emily’s unique place in their hearts. If her return was truly what they all longed for, then I would grant them their wish. I offered no more explanations, turning and walking towards the second floor. The moment I closed the door, I heard Justin still cursing me, calling me shameless. “Tch, a lowlife who’s been passed around by hobos, putting on airs of superiority!” Back in my room, I washed away the blood and grime. In the mirror, a broken body stared back. They were right, I thought. I deserved to die. So, I pulled out the old canvas bag I had brought with me seven years ago from under the bed. If I was going to die, I needed to leave cleanly. To leave no trace of myself in this house. I didn’t have many possessions; what I did have fit perfectly into the bag. Everything else, my parents had bought for me, tailored to Emily’s tastes. Emily loved pink Barbie style, so they decorated my princess room in that style, never once asking if I hated pink the most. Emily loved wearing dresses, so they bought me a closet full of princess gowns, never knowing I dreaded wearing them. Just thinking about dresses brought back the visceral fear of my stepfather’s hands, reaching beneath my skirt in my childhood. Just when I thought I had finally escaped hell, overjoyed to be welcomed home by my birth parents, I found a new nightmare awaited me. When my parents learned of my experiences at my adoptive parents’ house, they weren’t heartbroken, but disgusted. They felt I was dirty, unworthy of the Tristian name. To earn even a sliver of their affection, I forced myself to mimic Emily’s every move, her tone of voice, her walk, willingly becoming Emily’s shadow. But what did I get in return? My parents’ resentment: “You wicked girl, why won’t you leave your sister alone?” My brother Justin’s retaliation: “You tore our family apart, why did you ever come back!” My fiancé Lucas’s disdain: “Damaged goods, what right do you have to marry me?” I had lived as Emily’s shadow for seven years, eclipsed by her ‘halo.’ Starting today, I wouldn’t do it anymore. Their love, I no longer needed. … I walked downstairs with my bag, finding the living room filled with laughter and cheerful chatter. They were planning a grand welcome party for Emily. Emily cried, tears streaming as she buried her face in Mom and Dad’s arms. “Daddy, Mommy, I can finally come home!” Justin, his eyes red-rimmed, stroked her hair with a tenderness I had never seen directed at me. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here now. No one in this house will ever hurt you again.” Lucas gazed at Emily with profound affection, his voice soft, intimate. “Emily, I’ll protect you from now on.” Emily’s ears flushed scarlet at his words. Seeing this, Mom and Dad beamed with joyful smiles. Watching them so happy, I decided now wasn’t a good time to leave. Otherwise, I’d just ruin their mood again and get another scolding. So I turned to go back to my room. But Lucas, with his sharp eyes, spotted me. He instinctively frowned, his tone unfriendly. “Where are you going with that bag?” Everyone’s gaze snapped to me. I didn’t want to cause a scene, so I lied. “To throw out the trash.” Emily blinked at me with a sugary innocence. “Sylvia, won’t you come to my welcome party this weekend? You’re important, after all.” Before she finished speaking, Justin’s harsh words slammed into me. “Hmph, touched by that filth under the bridge, and you think you’re fit for Emily’s welcome party? Don’t you dare bring that stench near her.” He paused, as if recalling something darkly amusing, then added. “Come to think of it, Sylvia…weren’t you going to kill yourself? Why the delay? Fishing for sympathy again?” 4 Sylvia’s POV I lifted my head, my gaze slowly sweeping across everyone in the living room. My father George wore a look of impatience, my mother Sarah’s eyes were filled with annoyance, my brother Justin was gleeful, and Lucas was cold and detached. And Emily, cowering in Mom’s arms, her eyes holding a hidden excitement and anticipation. They were all waiting for me to cry, to make a scene, to kneel and beg for mercy. But I was tired of acting. I forced a smile, which, combined with my scarred face, must have looked terrible. “You’re right.” My voice was soft, yet steady. “I shouldn’t delay any longer.” With that, I didn’t return to my room. Instead, I walked directly towards the elevator leading to the rooftop. My uncharacteristic calm evidently stunned them all. “You… what are you going to do?” Sarah’s voice, trembled slightly. I pressed the up button, and the elevator doors opened with a ‘ding.’ “Grant you your wish.” I stepped inside. They looked at each other, their expressions shifting from confusion to dawning realization. Just as the elevator doors were about to close, Justin jammed his foot in. “You want to die? I have to see it with my own eyes.” He sneered, a cruel smirk on his face. “Lest you put on another act and claim we forced you to do it.” Lucas followed him in, his face devoid of emotion. Then came my father George, leaning on his cane, and my mother Sarah, supported by Emily. The small space instantly became crowded, the air thick with Emily’s sickly sweet perfume and Justin’s cheap tobacco smoke, making me feel a wave of nausea. They were my family, yet at this moment, they were like a crowd of spectators eager for a show. Waiting to witness the final act of me, their superfluous daughter. The elevator was silent, save for the sound of Justin lighting a cigarette. He looked at me through the swirling smoke, his eyes contemptuous. “Jump cleanly. Don’t disgrace the Tristian family any further.” When the elevator doors opened, a cold wind howled, stinging my face. The rooftop was vast, and beneath us stretched the dazzling city lights. I walked past the expensive lounge chairs and potted plants, heading straight for the edge of the rooftop. The glass railing reached only to my waist; from fifty stories high, everything on the ground looked minuscule. I turned around, facing my “audience.” They clustered a short distance away, their clothes flapping loudly in the wind. “Seven years,” my voice was a little scattered by the wind, but I knew they could hear me. “I tried for seven years to be the daughter you wanted, the sister you wanted.” I looked at Mom and Dad: “I learned Emily’s preferences, wore pink which I hated, ate sweets I disliked. I thought if I was obedient enough, I could earn even a little of your love. I was wrong.” My gaze shifted to Justin, “You always said I stole your sister, that I tore your family apart. Now, I’m giving her back to you.” Then, Lucas. The man I once loved. “Lucas, congratulations. You finally have a legitimate reason to marry the woman you love. I won’t be in your way anymore.” Finally, my eyes rested on Emily. She flinched, shrinking back behind Mom. “You win,” I smiled, this time the smile was genuine, a release. “This family, these people, they’re all yours now. I hope you enjoy this grand gift I’ve given you.” My father George’s face turned scarlet with rage. “You ungrateful daughter! Are you threatening us?!” “No,” I shook my head, “I’m thanking you. Thanking you for utterly breaking my heart.” I paused, changing the subject, my voice not loud, but every word clear. “Oh, and I forgot to tell you. It was Justin who threw me into the homeless encampment last night. It was Emily who drugged my drink and set me up. And as for you,” I swept my gaze over everyone, “you are all accomplices.” The air instantly solidified. Emily’s face turned ashen white. “Sylvia, what nonsense are you spouting! I didn’t!” Justin’s cheek twitched. “You’re effing crazy! You’re slandering me!” I ignored their frantic denials. The seeds of doubt had been sown. I took a deep breath of the cold air, then easily swung myself over the railing. In that instant, everyone froze. My mother Sarah let out a piercing scream: “Sylvia! No!” My father George’s cane clattered to the ground. The cigarette fell from Justin’s lips. He lunged forward, his face a mask of shock and a hint of… fear? Even Lucas’s cold mask cracked. “Sylvia!” Too late. I looked back at them one last time. My eyes held no love, no hate, only a vast, hollow stillness. Then, I leaned back and plunged into the night. The fall wasn’t fear. It was a rush of pure, dizzying freedom. The wind howled in my ears, like a wild funeral march. This was definitely faster than the elevator. An ill-timed thought flashed through my mind. I closed my eyes. The past seven years-the begging, the despair-flickered through me like a sped-up reel, then slowly faded to black. Good. I wanted none of it anymore. The ground rushed closer. I braced myself. Not to meet death. But to be caught. With a muffled thud. My body landed on a giant cushioning object, rattling my bones and organs, but without the agonizing pain of shattered limbs. I lay in the darkness, gasping for air. Beneath me was a colossal safety air cushion, specially for the fire department, already prepared. It had been hidden in a construction blind spot on the side of the building, perfectly avoiding everyone’s gaze. The air cushion rapidly deflated, emitting a hissing sound. The door of a black SUV beside me slid open, and a young man in a black T-shirt jumped out, his eyes exceptionally calm. “Miss Sylvia,” his voice was steady, “are you alright?” I pushed myself up, my body aching. “I’m fine, Dorian.” He helped me up, swiftly moving away from the collapsing air cushion and into the car. The moment the car door closed, the outside world instantly fell silent. The car smoothly drove out of the alley, merging into the traffic, like a single drop of water vanishing into the ocean. Those on the rooftop would surely believe I had fallen onto the cold pavement, reduced to a blurry mess of flesh and blood. Dorian handed me a bottle of water and a first-aid kit. “Your new identity and phone are in the compartment; the safe house is ready.” “Thank you.” I took a large gulp of water, the burning sensation in my throat finally easing. I looked at my reflection in the car window-pale, disheveled, but my eyes were completely different from a few minutes ago. I leaned down and retrieved the worn canvas bag at my feet. Unzipped it, pushing aside the few old clothes. Beneath them lay a laptop and an encrypted hard drive. This was my real luggage. For seven years, I had lived as a ghost in that house. No one would guard against an unassuming presence. So I copied the illegal contracts from George’s unsecured computer. I recorded Justin, drunk, bragging about his underground racing and money laundering. And my “pure and kind” sister, Emily. I’d already looked into her so-called sugar daddy. I knew the truth about her “humiliation” at the club-it was a stunt she staged herself to frame me and lock in her victim status. The hard drive contained recordings, videos, transfer records, and chat screenshots. Enough to send the Tristian family and Lucas’s family straight to hell. They thought that destroying me would leave them free of worries. They were wrong. They wanted me dead. And indeed, I “died.” The meek, timid, love-starved Sylvia had died on that rooftop tonight. The one who remained was born for revenge. I closed my bag, the zipper’s ‘snick’ was like the sound of a bullet sliding into the chamber. “Dorian.” I spoke, my voice disturbingly calm. “Miss Sylvia, your orders.” “Begin.” 5 Sylvia’s POV The car pulled into a quiet old alley and stopped beneath an unassuming residential building. Dorian turned off the engine and handed me a key and an access card. “Miss Sylvia, this is it. Third floor, 301. The apartment is completely secure, food and water are stocked, and the internet is a private line.” I took the key, the cold metal feeling real in my palm. “Thank you for your trouble.” “I’m just doing my job,” Dorian said simply. “If you need anything, contact me on your new phone.” I nodded and opened the car door. The night air was damp, clinging to my skin. I looked up at the building; its exterior walls were mottled, moss clinging to the corners-the kind of ordinary building that wouldn’t draw a second glance if abandoned in a city corner. Perfect. I liked this kind of anonymity. Upstairs, I unlocked the door to 30

A faint scent of disinfectant mixed with the fresh smell of new sheets. The apartment wasn’t large, one bedroom and a living room, but it was spotlessly clean. The furniture was simple and practical: a bed, a desk, a wardrobe. No unnecessary decorations, none of the pink I detested, none of Emily’s imposed preferences. I dropped my old canvas bag on the floor and unzipped it. The laptop and hard drive lay quietly beneath a few old clothes. I didn’t touch them immediately. Instead, I walked into the bathroom. I turned on the shower, and hot water cascaded over me. I closed my eyes, letting the water wash over my body. The wound on my forehead stung as it met the hot water, making me flinch. I reached up and touched it. The congealed blood was washing away, and fresh blood began to seep out again. I looked at myself in the mirror, at the gash on my forehead from the vase. When my father George threw it, his eyes were filled with disgust and rage. He would probably never know that it wasn’t the first time he wanted me dead. Seven years ago, when the Tristian family first took me in, I was small and thin from years of hunger, my skin dull and dark-a living contrast to their gilded world. Once, he brought me to a business dinner. I didn’t know how to use a fork and knife. I mangled my steak, and the juice splattered onto a lady’s designer purse beside me. Her face tightened. My father apologized over and over. At home, he locked me in the basement. “How could I have a daughter so…unpresentable!” “You are simply a disgrace to our family!” His roar from the other side of the door was warped with rage. I starved for a day and a night in that cold, damp dark. Curled in the corner, I was sure I would die there. Then, Lucas came. He secretly brought me bread and milk. Through the door, his voice was as gentle as moonlight. “Sylvia, don’t be scared. You’re just not used to it yet. It’ll get better.” “I’ll always be here for you.” That sliver of kindness became the sole light I clung to for survival over the next seven years. Now, it was laughable. That light was merely scraps tossed to a beggar, yet I treated it as a feast. I turned off the water and toweled dry. The first-aid kit held antiseptic and bandages. I dressed the wound, clumsy but thorough. After all that, I felt alive again. I opened the wardrobe. Inside were a few new T-shirts and jeans, all simple, plain. I pulled one on, walked into the living room, took a bottle of water from the fridge, twisted the cap, and drank half of it down without stopping. The cold liquid slid down my throat and into my stomach, extinguishing the last bit of burning pain. Alright. Time for business. I placed the laptop on the table, plugged it in, and inserted the encrypted hard drive. Booting up, I entered a long, complex password. The screen lit up, its pale blue light washing over my face. Inside the hard drive, hundreds of files sat sorted into folders: George Tristian-Overseas Assets-Illegal Transfers Justin Tristian-Underground Racing-Gambling-Money Laundering Evidence Chain James’s Group-Project Bidding-Bribery Records Emily Tristian… My finger hovered over Emily’s folder. I clicked it open. Inside, there was a single video file. The footage was shaky, clearly shot in secret. In the clip, Emily was sitting with a greasy middle-aged man, giggling coquettishly. “Mr. Tyler, I’m really counting on you for this one,” Emily said sweetly, pushing a glass of wine towards the man. The man’s hand went straight to her thigh, giving it a squeeze. “Don’t worry, it’s just about ruining your sister, right? Easy. I’ve prepared the drugs; she’ll have a great ‘time’ with all those men.” Emily showed not the slightest reluctance; instead, she smiled even sweeter. “Mr. Tyler, you’re so good. After this is done, I’ll be sure to reward you properly.” “How will you reward me?” “What do you think?” She winked, her finger tracing circles on the man’s chest. The video ended there. I had bought this from one of Mr. Tyler’s henchmen. Emily probably never dreamed that the pawn she’d used to scheme against me had betrayed her for a price. I closed the video, my face devoid of emotion. They all thought I was a docile lamb, but they didn’t know that a lamb, pushed to its limits, could become a biting wolf. For seven years, while playing the part of their “Sylvia,” I’d been gathering evidence in the shadows. Every one of them had a lever I could pull. Now it was time for them to learn how it felt-to fall from the clouds and land in the dirt. I didn’t start with Emily. That fruit, I’d save for last. It would taste sweetest once she’d climbed to her peak. My eyes settled on Justin’s folder. My dear, hot-headed, oblivious brother. He’d be the perfect gauge for the Tristian family’s reaction. From the pile of recordings and footage, I chose the shortest clip. It happened six months ago. Justin had been out partying, drank himself blind, and got dragged home by his friends. As I brought him water, he was on his group chat, bragging to his usual crowd. “That Sylvia…she’s bad luck. If it wasn’t for her, my sister wouldn’t be suffering. I’ve wanted to get rid of her for ages.” “Last time, under the bridge…those homeless guys were useless. Should’ve filmed it and leaked it. Would’ve ruined her for good.” On the recording, his voice was slurred, but every word dripped with hate. I edited the audio, cutting out his friends’ voices until only his drunken monologue remained. Then, I hacked into the city’s most exclusive supercar club’s group chat. Justin was a member-one of the loudest ones. What he cared about most was his rep-his standing with the crew. I created a burner account and dropped the recording like a piece of hot gossip. “You won’t believe this. Tristan Group’s golden boy, drunk off his ass, confessing to everything he did to his own sister.” Having done all that, I closed my laptop. The clock read three in the morning. The grand rooftop finale must have reached the police by now. I turned on the TV to the local news channel. A breaking news banner scrolled across the bottom of the screen: “BREAKING: Sylvia Tristian, daughter of Tristian Group’s chairman, fell to her death early this morning from the 50th floor of Hua Ding Tower. Police are investigating.” Fell to her death. Four words. They wrote the final period on my twenty-four years. I watched, a faint smile on my lips. No need to rush. The real show was just beginning.

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For three years, my husband Julian Blackwood pretended to be paralyzed, confined to a wheelchair. The night the cruise ship caught fire, a burning beam fell and shattered my leg. I screamed his name, my voice breaking, begging for help. He sat in his wheelchair, watching me with cold eyes. “Too far. I can’t reach you. Crawl.” But the very next moment, Seraphina, his true love, fell into the water. Julian sprang to his feet. He dashed to the edge of the deck and plunged headfirst into the dark sea. Because of him, my leg was left mangled by fire. Because of him, my brain was deprived of oxygen, its growth halted at the age of six. Three years later, Julian searched for me like a madman. He found me on the street, a beggar now. He fell to his knees, his eyes burning a desperate red. “To avoid me, you’d sink to this? Was it worth it?” I tilted my head, studying the strange man. Then I pulled the last piece of candy from my pocket and held it out to him. “Your legs aren’t broken. Why are you kneeling like me? I only have one left. Here, you can have it.”

Julian didn’t take my candy. “Elara, how long are you going to keep this up?” His voice was too loud, too sharp. I flinched and hugged my cracked bowl tighter against my chest. Inside were three dollars-my dinner money. No one could have it. My silence only made Julian angrier. He grabbed my arm, his grip rough. “Ow! Bad man! Don’t hurt Elara!” I cried out in pain, but my other hand still clutched the candy tightly. Caleb had given it to me this morning as a reward for not wetting my pants yesterday. “Playing crazy, are we? Pathetic!” Julian scoffed, his gaze falling on my tightly clenched fist. He probably thought I was hiding something valuable. He forced my fingers open. In my palm lay a slightly melted, dust-covered fruit hard candy. Julian froze for a moment, then a wave of immense disgust surged in his eyes. “All this… for this?” He snatched the candy, slammed it to the ground, and crushed it twice with his gleaming leather shoe. “No!” I screamed. That was my candy. I don’t know where the strength came from, but I broke free from his grip and flopped onto the ground. Desperately, I tried to pick the crushed sugar crystals embedded in the pavement. So dirty. But so sweet. I shoved the candy bits, mixed with dirt and shoe prints, into my mouth, tears and snot smearing my face. “Sweet… it’s sweet…” People had stopped to stare. Some were filming on their phones. My display seemed to enrage Julian even more. He grabbed me by the collar and lifted me like a stray kitten. “Elara! Have you no shame?” I didn’t answer him. I just cried, my eyes fixed on the crushed stain on the pavement. “Give it back… you owe me my candy…” Julian gritted his teeth, threw me over his shoulder, and shoved me into the black luxury car idling at the curb. I beat my fists against the window, watching my cracked bowl sitting alone on the sidewalk. “My money! My money!” “My brother will be hungry!” Julian locked the car doors and ordered the driver to leave. He turned, staring at me with an gaze full of pure hatred. “Good, let that stray starve to death.” “Elara, since you love acting so much, I’m taking you back to the place you most wanted to escape, so you can perform to your heart’s content.”

The car pulled up to a massive house. It looked somewhat familiar, but I dared not acknowledge it. The walls here were too white, like a hospital. The lights here were too bright, like fire. Servants stood at the door, covering their noses at the sight of my grimy state. Julian threw me onto the living room carpet. “Clean her up. Don’t let her soil my carpet.” A few maids approached, roughly dragging me into the bathroom. The faucet hissed open. Scalding hot water sprayed out, steaming. “Ah!” I shrieked, shrinking into a corner. “Fire! It’s fire! Don’t burn me!” The hot water pouring over me felt just like the searing flames on the cruise ship that night. I clutched my head, trembling all over, my teeth chattering. The maids impatiently held me down. “Ma’am, stop pretending. It’s just water.” I struggled with all my might, my nails scratching one maid’s arm. “Slap!” The maid slapped me backhand. “Crazy lunatic!” When Julian burst in, I was huddled in the corner of the bathtub, like a drowned rat. My clothes had been ripped off. The vast, grotesque patch of burn scars on my back, twisting like tree roots, was exposed to the air. Julian’s pupils contracted sharply. He seemed to want to reach out and touch the scars, but his hand stopped halfway. “You really went all out for this act, didn’t you?” He gritted his teeth, his voice a mix of sarcasm and something else I couldn’t decipher. “Julian?” A sweet, delicate voice drifted from the doorway. Seraphina walked in, wearing a white ballet dress. She was so clean, like a white swan. And I, I was a rat in the gutter. Seraphina saw the scars on my back; a flicker of disgust crossed her eyes, but she quickly replaced it with an expression of concern. “Elara, what happened to you? Julian is doing this for your own good, how could you scratch the maid?” I caught a whiff of her perfume. I sneezed, pointing at her. “You smell bad.” Seraphina’s face stiffened, her smile almost faltering. Julian immediately shielded Seraphina behind him, looking at me with cold fury. “Elara, apologize to Seraphina!” I didn’t understand. She was the one who smelled bad, why did I have to apologize? I stubbornly pressed my lips together, saying nothing. Julian lost his patience. He turned to a cabinet and pulled out a red box. Inside, nestled perfectly, was a pair of red ballet shoes. Three years ago, they were my most treasured possession. But now, seeing them, I only felt the aching in my legs. My broken leg bones throbbed faintly. “Didn’t you love to dance?” Julian tossed the ballet shoes in front of me. “Put them on. Dance for me.” “I won’t dance…” I shook my head frantically, shrinking backward. “My legs hurt… fire… don’t burn me…” He thought I was protesting this way. “You won’t dance?” He scoffed, picked up the shoes, and strode to the fireplace. A fire crackled within the hearth. “If you won’t dance, then you’ll never dance again!” He let go, and the ballet shoes tumbled into the flames. The fire instantly consumed the red satin. “No!” I stared at the inferno, and something snapped in my mind. The fire. The cruise ship. My broken leg. I lost control of my bladder on the spot. A warm, yellow liquid streamed down my thighs, filling the air with a pungent, sour smell. Seraphina gasped, covering her nose and recoiling into Julian’s embrace. Julian looked at the puddle on the floor, his face turning ashen. He finally realized. The proud Elara Vance, once radiant like a peacock. She was truly shattered.

Julian locked me in the room, forbidding me from leaving. But I was hungry, my stomach rumbling loudly. I missed the hotdogs Caleb used to buy me. That night, the mansion buzzed with activity. Julian was hosting a family dinner. A servant led me downstairs, pressing me into a chair at the dining table. The table overflowed with delicious food, but I dared not touch it. Julian sat at the head of the table, Seraphina beside him, acting like the lady of the house. “Eat.” Julian watched me coldly. “Aren’t you hungry?” I stared at the steak in front of me. It was raw, with streaks of blood. I was terrified of blood. I shook my head, my eyes fixed on a small cake in front of Seraphina. It was strawberry-flavored, surely sweet. Seraphina noticed my gaze. She smiled, pushing the cake toward me. “Elara, if you want it, just eat it. Don’t be shy.” I swallowed, cautiously reaching out. The instant my finger touched the plate, a sharp pain shot through my inner thigh. Seraphina’s hand, hidden beneath the tablecloth, had mercilessly pinched me. She put all her strength into it. “Ah!” I cried out, my hand trembling. The plate flipped, sending the cake crashing onto Seraphina’s white dress. Cream smeared all over her. “Oh! My dress!” Seraphina shrieked, tears instantly welling up. “Elara, if you didn’t want to eat it, why did you throw it at me?” “This was a limited edition Julian bought for me!” Julian slammed his hand on the table, springing to his feet. “Elara!” He glared at me. “Is your jealousy so strong that you can’t even stand a single dress?” I cowered, scrambling under the table. Hugging my head, trembling uncontrollably. “I didn’t… she pinched me… it hurt…” Julian didn’t believe a word. “Get out from under there!” he roared. “Pick up the cake from the floor and eat it!” I didn’t want to come out, but I was afraid of being hit. I crawled out, knelt on the floor, and reached for the cake mixed with cream. Seraphina, next to me, pretended to wipe her dress. Her high heel discreetly crushed a glass that had fallen to the floor. Fragments of glass mingled with the cream. I didn’t understand. I just knew I had to obey to get food. I grabbed a handful of cake, and the sharp glass shards immediately pierced my palm. Blood streamed out. “Wah!” I cried loudly in pain, holding up my bleeding hand for Julian to see. “It hurts… it’s bleeding…” Blood dripped onto the carpet, a shocking sight. Julian looked at the blood, his heart suddenly trembling. He instinctively started to stand up, but Seraphina suddenly clutched her chest and collapsed into his arms. “Julian, my chest feels so tight… I must have been so upset…” Julian’s movement halted. He looked at Seraphina, then back at my bloodied hand. Finally, he turned his head, hardening his heart. “Take her away.” “No bandages, no food.” “Let her learn her lesson.”

The basement was pitch black. No windows, just the squeaking of rats. I huddled in the corner, licking the wound on my hand. The blood had dried, sticky and crusty. I was so hungry. I missed Caleb so much. Suddenly, there was a huge crash outside the door. Bang! The iron door rattled violently, kicked repeatedly. Then came the shouts of bodyguards and sounds of a struggle. “Get out of the way! Let me in!” That voice… it was Caleb! I snapped my head up, my eyes suddenly alight. “Caleb!” I stumbled toward the door. The door burst open. Caleb rushed in, an iron pipe, smeared with blood, in his hand. He was covered in injuries, his clothes torn, but his eyes shone with a frightening intensity. “Elara!” He saw my bloodied hands, and his eyes instantly reddened. “You animals!” He threw down the pipe and rushed over to embrace me. “Don’t be scared, Elara. Caleb’s taking you away.” His embrace was warm, carrying the faint scent of the streets, but it was the safest smell in the world. But we couldn’t leave. Julian, with even more bodyguards, blocked the doorway. He stood there in his bathrobe, looking down at us. “So this is your little stray?” Julian’s gaze fell on Caleb’s hand wrapped around mine, his eyes filled with murderous intent. “A garbage picker?” Caleb subtly shielded me behind him. “Julian, are you even human? She has the mind of a six-year-old! You’re abusing a child!” Julian scoffed. “A child? She’s a better actress than anyone.” He waved his hand, and the bodyguards swarmed us. Soon, Caleb was pinned to the ground. Julian walked over, placing his foot on Caleb’s hand. “Ah!” Caleb grunted in pain but clenched his jaw, refusing to beg for mercy. “Since this hand dared to touch my woman, then let’s break it.” Julian took a baseball bat handed to him by a bodyguard. He raised it high. “No!” I rushed forward like a madwoman. I pushed Julian away, shielding Caleb with my scarred body. “Don’t hit Caleb! Caleb gives Elara candy! You’re a bad man!” Julian watched me protect another man like a fiercely protective mother bear. Jealousy distorted his face beyond recognition. “Fine, very fine.” He tossed the baseball bat to a bodyguard. “Since you love him so much, then I’ll break his fingers one by one, right in front of you.” The bodyguard raised the bat. Caleb struggled desperately. “Elara, run! Don’t worry about me!” I stared at that bat. I knew it would be very, very painful. I couldn’t let Caleb feel that pain. My gaze fell on a kitchen knife on the coffee table. That kind lady once said that if you do something wrong, you have to pay compensation. Since he wanted a hand, I’d give him one. I grabbed the kitchen knife. Without a moment’s hesitation, I slashed at my left pinky finger. “Splat-” “No!” Caleb and Julian roared at the same instant. Blood sprayed. The pain was so violent my vision whited out, yet I smiled. I picked up my severed little finger, hand shaking, and held it out to Julian. “I’ll pay you back…See? I’ll pay with my finger…Now let Caleb go. Please.” Julian stared at the finger, his entire body frozen. His face was paler than mine. Before the pain dragged me under, my hand was still curled tight in Caleb’s shirt. “Caleb… no pain…”

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On Christmas Eve, my wife Sarah, our five-year-old Lily, and I drove back to my hometown in Ohio. Lily, blonde and blue-eyed, chattered in her sweet voice all the way. She looked like a little angel come to life. My relatives crowded around her, cooing and playing, the firelight from the fireplace dancing on their smiling faces. It should have been a warm, joyful night. But as the red wine dwindled, my Aunt Carol suddenly gestured for me to follow her outside. In the storage room, crammed with Christmas gifts, she closed the door and made a request that instantly froze my blood. “Hand over Lily’s guardianship to my son.” I stared, certain I’d misheard. “What did you say? Is this a joke?” The request was impossible. It made no sense. “I had a psychic reading,”Carol said, her tone turning lofty. “Your next child will be a boy. Look, Jack needs a child, and Lily is perfect. Why not let her make him happy? You’ll have others.” “She is my daughter,” I said, my voice shaking with fury. “Not a gift to pass around. One more word, and we’re leaving. Now.” I turned to go. She dropped to her knees, hands clasped, tears suddenly falling. It was then I learned that her son, Jack, had been having episodes for half a year-refusing to eat, breaking things, posting violent things online. He’d screamed it again and again. “I’m going to adopt Lily! If I can’t have her as my daughter, I’d rather not live!” I almost laughed. It was a bitter, hollow sound. Adopt? Was I supposed to be dead? Then, as the rage cooled, a cold, clear thought took shape: This wasn’t about adoption. It was about possession. Jack was only twenty-two, single, with no job or income. How could Child Protective Services ever approve him? Unless…he wasn’t planning an adoption at all” A memory surfaced, sharp and cold. Six months ago, when fixing his phone, I’d d stumbled on a folder of indecent images of children, and dark-web “literary” links. . I looked down at Carol, who was still sobbing. “Even if you bleed from your knees, I will never agree.” She collapsed onto the floor, wailing, calling me selfish, disrespectful, and claiming I’d ruined her family. “My son will die! It’s all your daughter’s fault!” she shrieked. The relatives in the living room rushed in, drawn by the commotion. My parents snapped at me, “How could you upset your aunt like this?!” I didn’t explain. My eyes were fixed on Jack, who was emerging from behind the crowd. Overweight, with a face full of acne scars. He’d dropped out of community college and worked at an auto repair shop near home. “Give me your phone.” I pointed at him. He staggered back two steps, his eyes flickering. I’d felt uneasy since dinner-he’d been holding his phone, pretending to photograph the Christmas tree, but the lens always seemed to be aimed at Lily. I lunged, snatched the phone, and forced his face against it to unlock it. Inside the gallery, there was a folder named “Angel.” The moment I opened it, my scalp prickled. It was filled with pictures of my daughter. Dozens of them.

I grabbed Jack by the collar, unleashing a furious barrage of punches, nearly beating him to death right there. It took the older relatives to finally pull me off. With Sarah and Lily present, I couldn’t explain everything publicly, so I just smashed his phone into the fireplace. My parents were furious, raging at me for a long time, not bothering to hear my side of the story. I was beyond arguing. I grabbed Sarah and Lily, and we drove away from the old house late that night, heading for a motel thirty miles away. All the way, Lily slept soundly in the back seat, worn out. The pent-up fury and a bone-deep chill spread through me. I told Sarah everything. Her face went stark white as she listened. “We have to go now!” Her voice was sharp and furious. “Leave this state, and never come back!” I sighed. I wanted to be as far away from this family as possible. But the reality was, transportation in this small Midwestern town was nowhere near as convenient as in New York. The nearest Greyhound bus station wouldn’t open until tomorrow morning, and the airport for flights back to New York was in Columbus, a hundred and twenty miles away. It was snowing heavily, the roads were icy, and visibility was terrible-driving that far in this weather would be suicidal. “Tomorrow,” I said, squeezing her cold hand. “Tonight, we’ll rest at the motel. We’ll leave at first light.” Sarah looked out at the pitch-black, snowy night, then back at our sleeping daughter, and finally nodded, defeated. Snowflakes hammered densely against the windshield. I gripped the steering wheel tightly, keeping the speed low. But in my mind, Jack’s glare as we left flashed repeatedly. He stared at us, his eyes cold and vicious.

When my parents returned from town, they demanded to know why I’d ruined the family gathering. I told them about Jack’s malicious obsession with Lily. They began to tremble with rage. How could their beloved granddaughter become a mere “item” to be demanded and claimed? My parents ignored my pleas and insisted on going to Aunt Carol’s house to demand an explanation. I couldn’t stop them, and I really didn’t feel safe leaving Sarah and Lily alone at the motel, so I could only let them go, my heart in my throat. However, the sheer shamelessness and deceit of Jack’s family once again exceeded my imagination. About an hour later, my parents returned. My father had a bruise on his cheekbone, and my mother’s eyes were red-rimmed. Instead of receiving an apology, my parents had been slandered. Aunt Carol’s family turned the tables on them, accusing us of having a daughter just to “bewitch” Jack. They even cursed our entire family, wishing us “divine retribution and a terrible end.” My father, unable to stomach their lies, argued back, only to be beaten by Carol’s family. “Honey… look at my phone.” Sarah held her screen out to me. I tapped open our family Facebook group. What I saw instantly made my blood boil: furious insults from Aunt Carol’s family. “It’s our kindness to even consider taking your daughter! Filthy vermin, how dare you slander Jack!” “Look at how you’ve raised your daughter!” “Only useless people have daughters!!” A surge of brutal fury shot through me. I turned, grabbed a kitchen knife from the motel kitchenette, and lunged for the door. In that moment, I just wanted to shut them up for good. My parents, horrified, quickly held me back, tightly. “If you go to jail, what will happen to Lily?!” Dad pressed down on my shoulders. Lily’s cries came from the bedroom. Gradually, I loosened my grip, humiliation burning in my chest, making me feel as though I would vomit blood. If reason wouldn’t work, and I couldn’t fight these villains, couldn’t we at least escape them? “Dad, Mom,” I took a deep breath, “come back to New York with us. I can’t leave you here and be at peace. Think of it as… spending the rest of Christmas break at our place.” “But in this weather, flights are probably canceled…” Mom said worriedly. “We’ll drive back,” I said, feeling guilty. “The road conditions might be bad, and it’ll be tough on you.” My parents nodded, weary and heavy-hearted. “That’s the only option for now.”

I forced myself to sleep. A few more hours, and come morning, we’d leave all this behind for good. But I underestimated the malice of Jack’s family-they had no intention of letting us leave. The next day was Christmas. The small town was adorned with festive lights, brimming with holiday spirit. Yet our family was like refugees, silently packing our belongings. The car wheels crunched over the snow, slowly driving away from the town. As familiar landmarks shrunk in the rearview mirror, my taut nerves finally relaxed a little. Lily was securely fastened in her car seat, and Sarah was softly reading a picture book to her. My parents sat in the back, quietly discussing plans for when we returned to New York. I turned on the car stereo, hoping to dispel the gloom with soothing Christmas songs. Just as the piano intro to “Silent Night” began, my face went deathly pale. The steering wheel suddenly felt incredibly heavy and pulled uncontrollably to the right! My heart stopped. I slammed the brake pedal all the way down- The brakes had failed! “Stop! Stop now!” I wrestled desperately with the steering wheel. In my panic, a chilling thought struck me like lightning: this rental car had just passed a full inspection and was in perfect condition. And Jack, he worked at an auto repair shop. Someone who knew how to fix cars certainly knew how to make them fail at a critical moment. On the icy road, the tires screamed. The car wrenched sideways, slid, and punched through the guardrail. On one side of this road was a steep, snow-covered slope. God- Then came the shriek of my family, the deafening grind of tearing metal, and the world turning over and over as we fell. I woke up in a medical center. The nurse said our car had been stopped by several thick oak trees during its tumble, which was how we miraculously survived. My left tibia and fibula had an open fracture, now fixed with steel pins and a cast; three ribs on my right side were broken, one nearly puncturing my lung. The paramedics said if I had been brought in half an hour later, the internal bleeding would have been irreversible. A blessing in disguise, my parents and Sarah only suffered multiple contusions and mild concussions, no life-threatening severe injuries. After the crash, my father, still conscious, immediately dialed 911 on his phone, buying me precious time for rescue. Lily, miraculously, was unharmed thanks to her car seat, but she was terrified. For two whole days, she didn’t make a sound, just stared with empty, vacant eyes.

I leaned on my walker and shuffled to the pediatric ward, where I saw Lily curled in Sarah’s arms. Her small face was pale, her eyes unfocused, unresponsive to anything around her. I bore the sharp pain in my ribs, knelt by the bed, and took her into my arms, gently patting her back. After a long time, her stiff body finally softened a fraction. Two small, icy hands slowly rose, wrapping around my neck, burying her face in my shoulder. “Daddy,” her voice was a faint whisper, choked with broken sobs, “Did… did we do something wrong, for bad things to happen?” It was the first sentence she’d spoken in two days. My heart felt squeezed by a cold hand. I continued to pat her back, feeling warm tears soak my hospital gown. “No, sweetie, we didn’t do anything wrong,” I whispered, my face against her soft hair, saying each word clearly, unsure if I was telling her or myself. “It’s the people who did bad things…they haven’t received the punishment they deserve.” Later, I received the preliminary accident investigation report from the Ohio Highway Patrol. The conclusion: the vehicle lost control on an icy road, resulting in a single-vehicle accident. Due to extensive damage to the vehicle, and key components being further damaged during the roll and rescue efforts, it was impossible to determine if there was any human-induced mechanical failure before the incident. The patrol eventually classified it as a “traffic accident caused by adverse weather conditions and potentially improper driver handling.” Rage left me trembling. I knew the truth was buried in that tangle of metal and wire. I knew what Jack had done. But without proof, suspicion was just a story I told myself. Even the question of his involvement became a ghost-visible to me, impossible to hold up to the light. A deep, cold helplessness washed through me. Helpless. To be crushed so completely, to cheat death, and still be unable to point a finger at the man who caused it-it was the ultimate powerlessness. A few days later, I was outside the hospital smoking when Jack actually showed up. I tried to swing at him, but my injured leg gave way and I collapsed into the snow. He kicked my crutch aside, squatted down, and sneered, “Can’t even stand up straight. What kind of father does that make you?” “What do you want?” I managed. “Just visiting my future daughter.” He grinned. “Tough little girl. Congratulations.” That’s when it hit me: The police hadn’t notified relatives yet. So how did he know we were here? How did he find this hospital in the next county over? It meant one thing. He had caused the crash. I remembered the line from the police report: Child unharmed-secured in safety seat. And suddenly, it made a terrible kind of sense. He had engineered the crash to kill us all, counting on the car seat to save Lily. That way, she’d become an orphan, and he could step in to “adopt” her. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll retaliate?” I asked. “Afraid of what?” He spread his hands. “You have a job and a house in New York. You lay a hand on me, you go to prison. I have nothing, so I dare to do anything.” He patted my shoulder. “I know where you live, where you work. I can come to New York to ‘visit’ you anytime.” I tried to hit him again, but only stumbled. “Give me Lily, and you can all be safe.” He said, then left. A passerby helped me retrieve my crutch. I was trembling, with only one thought: Kill him.

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Three years after leaving the country, I landed at the airport, my two young children clinging to me. Seraphina, the Church’s Saintess, who was always so cool and distant, messaged me: “You’re back?” I lied without a flicker of emotion: “No way, I’m still in England. Just about to go to bed.” But the very next second, she materialized in front of me. Her eyes were fixed, burning, on my two children. “Is this why you disappeared? To do this?” “Don’t you understand? I never agreed to a divorce. This is cheating!” I scoffed. My hand reached out, brushing against the prayer pendant around her neck. “You wouldn’t have children with me, so I had to find someone who would, didn’t I?” When we got married, she claimed to love me fiercely. She said she’d do anything for me, as long as it didn’t mean breaking her sacred vows. But then, her first love, Caleb, came back. He said if he could make Seraphina “break her vows” nine times, then I was to “voluntarily divorce” her. I lost that battle, utterly and completely.

When Caleb returned to the country, he challenged me to a bet: who could make Seraphina break her vows nine times first? I sneered and immediately wrote out the agreement by hand. “If you win, I’m out.” “But if you lose, I’ll make sure you can never show your face in this city again.” Yet, only I knew the truth. I wasn’t nearly as confident as I appeared. For three years of marriage with Seraphina, I’d bent over backward for her, giving her everything I had. But I could never make her break those sacred vows she held so dear. Less than a week into the bet, Seraphina’s visits home became fewer and far between. Gritting my teeth, I slipped into a new silk robe and walked into her meditation room. I took her hand and leaned in, my lips tracing a path down her body. I could feel her breathing grow heavy, her eyes clouding with an unfamiliar desire. But then her phone rang – that distinct chime meant it was the Church. Seraphina instantly jolted awake, pushed me away, and stormed out the door. She was gone for three hours, and she didn’t come back. The blood in my veins ran cold, inch by agonizing inch. I stood there like a statue, my mind utterly blank, unable to process anything. It wasn’t until Caleb arrived at my door, holding an intimate item and showing me the unmistakable traces left inside. “Aaron, this is the ninth time.” “I told you, Seraphina loves me. Why wouldn’t you believe it?” “A bet’s a bet. You lost, now pay up.” I stared at his triumphant face, then remembered myself just moments ago, craving Seraphina’s touch like a pathetic beggar. A wave of dizziness washed over me. Why was I humiliating myself like this? Before marriage, I was the proudest heir from a prominent family in our circle. Why was I now competing with Caleb over what happened in a bedroom? I feigned nonchalance, pulling the signed divorce papers from my nightstand. “Here. Now get out.” Caleb’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You confronted Seraphina?” I acted indifferent. “No. Seraphina said the divorce was up to me.” “It’s just a woman. If you like her, she’s all yours.” But looking at Seraphina’s name on the agreement. It still felt like a hole was brutally ripped right through my chest. This was Seraphina’s “gift” to me on our wedding day. Seraphina was a woman of her word. Back then, she’d stopped my more intimate advances, saying she couldn’t break her vows, that she had to keep her sacred commitment for three years, and asked me to wait for her. But if I ever grew weary. I could sign the divorce papers anytime, and she would never stand in my way. At the time, I was incredibly moved. I thought she was the one for life. Now, I just felt horrifically foolish. Did she do this to give me freedom, or to simply leave herself an escape route? Caleb took the agreement, flipped through it twice, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. “Just like the proud Aaron I know, so casual.” “Everyone in town knows you spent five years just chasing Seraphina. I thought you’d be more reluctant to give up.” “Alright, in a week, when Seraphina’s vow-keeping period officially ends, I’ll give her this agreement as a gift.” “You two can finally stop torturing each other.” I gave him a cold look and showed him out. But then, I found myself thinking Caleb was right. I’d tied someone who didn’t love me to my side for five years. What else was that but torture? I pulled out my phone and found the flight tickets I’d booked for Seraphina and me to Iceland, set for a week later. Seraphina didn’t like long trips; I’d pestered her into going. When she agreed, did she also think I was such a bother, so demanding? I tapped my screen, canceling Seraphina’s ticket. If this was how it was, I’d set her free. Such a mistake, I couldn’t let it continue.

Not long after Caleb left, I went to bed. Half-asleep, someone slipped into bed beside me, their arms wrapping around my waist from behind. Annoyed, I batted her hand away. “Aren’t you going back to your meditation room? What are you doing here?” A woman’s breath tickled the back of my neck. After a long moment, she whispered: “Why did you cancel the Iceland tickets?” My irritation and gloom intensified. I snapped back, “Can’t I just not want to go anymore?” And pushed her away: “Get away from me.” But my hand pressed against her chest, and Seraphina let out a muffled groan, as if in immense pain. I felt an odd sensation on her chest again and quickly pulled back her nightgown. In that instant, the world spun around me. Below her left breast, a brand new belly button ring gleamed! And beside it, two tiny letters were tattooed: C.B. I didn’t know if my eyes were bloodshot, but my voice trembled uncontrollably: “What is this?” Did Seraphina like Caleb so much that she’d do anything for him? When Seraphina’s parents died unexpectedly, her relatives swooped in, grabbing most of their assets and even hiring people to harass and bully her. I was the one who stood in front of her, pulling every string and leveraging every contact to shield her from humiliation. Seraphina said she needed solitude and spiritual guidance. I stayed by her side, never forcing her, pouring my entire being into loving her. Until she gradually emerged from the shadows and accepted my proposal. How ridiculous. She kept her vows, saying she couldn’t touch me. Yet she could get a piercing, branding herself like a pet with an owner’s mark, all for another man? But if Seraphina didn’t want it, who could force her? Was this just another one of their intimate games? Or did Caleb want me to see firsthand just how much Seraphina would compromise for him? Seraphina frowned, pulling her clothes back up. “It’s nothing serious, just a piece of jewelry. If you don’t like it, I won’t wear it.” “As for those two letters… Aaron, I’ll explain it all to you later.” Then she hesitated, stepping out of the bedroom: “I’m going to pray. You get some rest.” My keen eyes caught it: the sacred medallion necklace I had painstakingly customized for her was gone, replaced by a strange, exotic-looking new one. I gritted my teeth and called Alfred, the butler: “Find out where Seraphina went today, who she saw.” “And where her old necklace is.” Not long after. A security camera video was sent to my phone. In the video, Seraphina was drinking glass after glass of wine offered by Caleb, clearly quite drunk. A few friends at the table exclaimed: “I heard Ms. Seraphina never touches alcohol because of her faith. Caleb, you really have pull!” “Isn’t that right? Back in school, Seraphina only ever showed special treatment to Caleb. Seems Caleb being abroad didn’t change a thing.” “I heard Seraphina’s married. Must have a pretty strict husband, right?” Caleb chuckled, taking Seraphina’s hand: “If I hadn’t had to leave back then, Aaron would never have had the chance to marry Seraphina.” “And I told Seraphina not to touch Aaron for three years, and she actually kept that promise. What kind of feelings are those? I don’t need to spell it out, do I?” My heart gave a violent jolt. What did Seraphina take me for? She leaned on me to get through the lowest point of her life, yet she diligently followed her “true love’s” command, preserving this ridiculous “chastity” for him? Caleb patted Seraphina’s cheek, rousing her from her daze: “Throw away this old necklace. I bought you a new one. From now on, you’ll only wear mine.” Seraphina looked hesitant. But under Caleb’s urging, she still unclasped the necklace and dropped it to the ground. Perhaps even heaven couldn’t stand it. The chain snapped the moment it hit the floor, and the sacred medallion cracked against the hard ground with a sharp sound. Just like my heart, shattering into a million pieces. Alfred placed the two retrieved medallion fragments in my palm: “Master Aaron, the chain and other parts were collected by the cleaning staff. Shall I retrieve them?” I gave a bitter laugh: “No need.” “What’s the point of finding a few fragments?” Seraphina was just like this necklace. Once a treasure I painstakingly sought out and cherished. Now, fallen and broken, it’s nothing.

I instructed the staff to pack up all of Seraphina’s belongings and send them to her own apartment. Seraphina walked in, carrying breakfast, brushing past the movers. She watched her scented candles, spiritual books, and prayer mat being carried out, her face a mask of utter bewilderment: “What’s going on?” “Aaron, are you moving?” I flashed her a wide smile: “Yeah, I’ve lived here too long. Looking at it just irritates me more and more.” Then I glanced at the tray in her hands: A plate of salad, a bowl of oatmeal, a few slices of whole wheat bread. Not even a fried egg. Seraphina had a very clean diet, and I had followed suit, eating light for years. So I grabbed my bag and headed straight for the door: “Eat it yourself.” Completely ignoring her astonished expression. What Seraphina thought now, I simply didn’t care. That evening, I met up with a few friends from our circle at a bar, a farewell of sorts. My friends kept teasing me: “Aaron, the great heir, finally out for a drink? Aren’t you afraid your meticulous and self-disciplined wife will disapprove?” “Yeah, after getting married, you became a model husband. What’s changed today?” I scoffed: “Rules are for people who deserve them.” Just then, a commotion broke out in a corner of the bar. Someone said two people were in a drinking contest – whoever finished twelve shots of hard liquor first would get to take home a “special guest” tonight. A friend went to check it out, returning with a grim expression: “Aaron, you need to go look… It’s Seraphina.” My expression remained unchanged. I knew I should be surprised—surprised that a teetotaler would desperately gamble like this for someone else. But in my heart, there wasn’t a single ripple. It was as if all my feelings for Seraphina had completely died yesterday. I even walked over with a sense of detached amusement, joining everyone: “Come on, let’s go watch the show.” Seraphina stood before a long table covered in glasses. When she saw me, she couldn’t hide her shock. But just as she tried to move, the bartender spoke up: “Ma’am, leaving now counts as a forfeit. Are you sure?” She looked at me, then at Caleb beside her, her lips moving silently, before finally turning away: “I’m not forfeiting.” Caleb leaned in close to my ear. Under the cover of the bar’s booming music, he whispered malicious words into my ear: “Aaron, maybe you should try to talk some sense into Seraphina?” “After all, you’ll barely be married for a few more days. How many more times can you openly beg her?” “But then again, if Seraphina doesn’t listen to you even once, you’d be truly pathetic.” I ignored Caleb, just staring at Seraphina’s face. Her gaze never met mine, as if she was deliberately avoiding me. Her fingers unconsciously toyed with the new necklace around her neck. I knew her—it was a nervous habit when she felt guilty. The onlookers were moved by her and Caleb’s “deep affection”: “Drinking twelve shots, she’ll probably end up in the hospital, right? This girl is truly devoted to her boyfriend.” “So touching! Wishing them forever.” A vein pulsed in Seraphina’s temple. She snapped, “Shut up!” Then she turned to me, her voice softening: “Aaron, I have my reasons. Listen, I’ll explain everything when we get home…” I smiled. I simply reminded her in a calm voice: “Seraphina, you said you’d keep your vows for three years. There are three days left.” “Drink this, and all our agreements between us will be null and void.” Her expression froze. She was silent for a long time, then finally nodded: “Then they’ll be null and void… Tonight, when we go home, I’ll make up for everything I owe you…” I knew she meant she would finally consummate our marriage. But now, I only found it laughable. She was finally willing to “break her vows” for me—after she had done everything she shouldn’t have, for another man. I took off my wedding ring. I dropped it into the glass of liquor in front of her and turned to leave. But unexpected, there were too many onlookers. Someone knocked over a champagne tower nearby. Countless glass cups came crashing down on my head. I heard Seraphina shout my name. But in that critical moment, she shielded Caleb, who was on the other side. The sound of shattering glass exploded in my ears. As my vision gradually darkened, I saw Seraphina rushing towards me. I knew she was holding my falling body, knew her hands were trembling. She whispered in my ear, over and over, that she loved me. But the sound only made me sick. When I woke up, it was exactly three days later. My friends told me that after I was rushed to the emergency room, Seraphina stayed by the door, refusing to get her hands bandaged even though they were covered in cuts from the shattered glass and bleeding profusely. They said Seraphina had stayed by my bedside for days, personally taking care of everything, not even letting anyone else touch my face. They also said Seraphina had booked a huge banquet hall, filled with my favorite blue irises, though I had no idea what she was celebrating. I called Alfred: “Take me to the airport.” As the car pulled away from the hospital, I saw Seraphina’s car driving in. The moment our cars passed, I raised my window. Seraphina was truly happy. She had owed Caleb twelve favors, and the drinking contest was the last one. Seraphina thought she could finally let go of Caleb completely and devote herself wholeheartedly to the husband of her life. But when she walked into the hospital room. The bed was empty. Every inch of the sheets was perfectly smooth, not a single wrinkle. In that moment, her face first showed confusion, then bewilderment, finally turning into an indescribable panic. Caleb, all smiles, handed her a document: “Seraphina, you’re finally free!” “This is the divorce agreement Aaron signed. We can finally be together again!”

Seraphina froze. During this time, she’d constantly heard Caleb talk about “freedom,” and occasionally heard the word from Aaron too. But she had never imagined that this so-called “freedom” would be a divorce agreement! Caleb picked up a bouquet of flowers nearby: “Seraphina, everything you’ve done for me since I came back, I’ve kept it all in my heart.” “I never thought you’d do anything for me, even risk your life.” “So, I made Aaron sign the divorce agreement. We can finally be together properly!” Friends who had come to visit Seraphina also flooded in: “Congratulations, Seraphina! Finally reunited with your true love!” “Ms. Seraphina, you’re so lucky! Not only did you win back your old flame, but you also got your husband to let go willingly. Amazing!” No one mentioned what would happen to Aaron. Seraphina remembered that during her three years of marriage to Aaron, people always said how he wasn’t good enough for her, how he was inferior. Aaron never cared. In his eyes, as long as they truly loved each other, other people’s opinions didn’t matter. Seraphina struggled to control her trembling voice: “So… where’s Aaron?” Everyone present was stunned. For a moment, no one spoke, and the atmosphere became incredibly awkward. Caleb felt a bit guilty. He suddenly dared not look at Seraphina’s expression: “He left… Aaron’s parents came to pick him up. I heard the whole family went abroad.” After a thirteen-hour flight, I arrived in Iceland. I had planned to come here with Seraphina after her birthday. I had even booked the best suite for our romantic getaway. Who knew she was that kind of person, simply not worth all my effort. That evening, soaking in the hotel’s hot spring, I finally felt a long-lost peace. Maybe Caleb was right. Ending this marriage truly brought freedom. And I was free too. I opened my phone, and messages flooded in. [Aaron, where are you? Why is your phone off?!] [Aaron, please listen to me. Caleb was lying; it’s not what you think!] [Come back, let’s talk this through properly.] I was about to delete and block her. I’d given her nine chances; wasn’t that enough? Now, even if she knelt and begged me, saying she loved me, not Caleb. I wouldn’t care. The calls kept coming, non-stop. I looked at Seraphina’s name on the screen and decisively hung up. She still wouldn’t give up, trying again and again. To think, Seraphina was one of the proudest and most aloof people in our circle. I’d truly never seen her cling so desperately. Seraphina was out of options. She sent a photo of the divorce agreement—the document had been torn to shreds. [Aaron, our divorce agreement is void.] [You are still my husband. You must come back and give me an explanation.] It was like someone backed into a corner, still desperately clinging on. I felt a rare thrill of satisfaction. The frustration Caleb had caused me was almost completely gone. I took a photo of the final divorce papers and sent it back. [You can tear your agreement all you want. I have a copy here anyway.] [The legal procedures are complete.] [And thank you, Seraphina. Your lawyer said that if I agreed to the divorce, it could happen anytime.] Looking at Seraphina’s messages, it seemed she wanted to go back on her word. Unfortunately, I had no magic pill for regret to offer her. What I wanted, she could never give me again. Knowing Seraphina was still contacting me, my parents looked displeased: “That Seraphina girl really has issues. When you were married, she didn’t bother treating you well, but now that you’re divorced, she’s throwing herself at you.” “Aaron, you need to be more discerning when you choose someone in the future. Looks aren’t important; character is key.” I gave a dry laugh. Actually, my feelings for Seraphina weren’t entirely superficial. She probably didn’t even remember it herself. I pursued her, not because of love at first sight. But because she was the most unique person I’d ever met when I was studying abroad. Back then, Seraphina Smith didn’t have all the prestige she later acquired. Nor was she as cold and distant. I quietly watched her for many years. After graduation, I thought I’d never see her again. Who knew that later, the Smith family suddenly faced misfortune? Seraphina’s parents both died in an accident, and most of the Smith family’s assets were divided among distant relatives. Worried something would happen to her, I rushed to the Smith family mansion that very night. I saw her kneeling before her parents’ memorial tablets. Her eyes were completely hollow. Later, she joined the Church, going to pray devoutly every day. People in our circle laughed, saying she couldn’t handle the blow and would sooner or later be devoured by her relatives, leaving nothing but bones. I told myself I couldn’t just leave her. And so, I stubbornly stayed by her side for many years. Many of the Smith family’s businesses were secretly supported by me. When the Smith family finally got back on their feet, Seraphina also finally accepted my proposal. I thought we would live happily ever after like that. But everything, in the end, was a lie. Seraphina and I, we had no future.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “318040”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #重生Reborn

On the way to finalize my divorce from Adrian, I died in a car crash. I’d refused to let him go after finding out he cheated on me with Seraphina Sterling. We’d spent three years tormenting each other. I even tried to end my life, but nothing could bring him back. I finally decided to let go, but fate had other plans. We died instantly, only to be reborn together. It was our wedding day again. Adrian, instead of holding the bouquet, dropped it and rushed to embrace Seraphina, who stood among the guests. “I’m calling off the wedding! In this life, Seraphina will be my only wife.” Adrian stared at me, his eyes wary and annoyed. He probably expected me to throw a fit again, to refuse. But my gaze was calm. I simply said,”I agree.” The wedding dissolved into chaos, but someone still managed to post a video online, making it the top trending topic of the day. The comments section exploded. @AnonymousUser: Wait, weren’t Adrian Donovan and Adrian Donovan childhood sweethearts? Why is he suddenly in love with Seraphina? @LoveIsBlind: Just growing up together doesn’t mean it’s love. I say, Aurora should step aside for true love. She shouldn’t use her heiress status to break them up. @Heartfelt_Wishes: Even though Seraphina comes from a humble background, she and Adrian clearly have true feelings for each other. Miss Sterling should just let them be happy. @BoycottDonovan: Exactly! True love conquers all. If the Sterling family tries to force them apart with this arranged marriage, I’m boycotting all Sterling Corp. products! People even flocked to Sterling Corp.’s Ins account, demanding we approve Adrian and Seraphina’s union. They threatened to boycott Sterling Corp. if we dared to harm Seraphina. And just like that, Sterling Corp.’s stock began to plummet. I clutched my phone tightly. In my previous life, Adrian had manipulated public opinion to pressure Sterling Corp., ruining several of our projects just to force me into a divorce. Now, in this life, he was already using the same tactics, threatening us through the media, simply because he feared we might hurt Seraphina. My dad slammed his hand on the table, fuming. “Seraphina, what were you thinking?” Seraphina was one of the scholarship students Sterling Corp. supported. Because I pitied her difficult past, I took her on as my assistant after she graduated. She was shy and insecure, so I taught her confidence and grace, introducing her to my social circle. I showed her high-end brands, brought her to exclusive galas, bought her beautiful evening gowns. Even when I was with Adrian, I’d bring her along so she could experience the world. I helped her emerge from her ugly duckling phase. Adrian once praised me, calling me kind-hearted and generous for changing her impoverished life. Now, her eyes darted nervously before she dramatically dropped to her knees. Tears instantly glistened on her delicate face. “I… I also like Adrian, but I know I’m not worthy of him. I never dared to express my feelings. But since Adrian is willing to call off his wedding for me in public, I’m willing to be with him.” “Please, Miss Aurora, let us be together.” She reached out, trying to grab my hand, whispering conspiratorially, “You taught me that when an opportunity presents itself, you must seize it without a moment’s hesitation. Adrian, I’m not letting him go.” I recoiled, disgusted, shaking her hand away. I hadn’t used much force, but she collapsed to the floor as if brutally shoved. Adrian suddenly burst into the room, scooped Seraphina into his arms, and roared at me. “Adrian, if you have a problem, take it out on me! If I ever see you bullying Seraphina again, I swear, I won’t go easy on you!”

I’d heard those threats too many times in my last life; I was immune. But seeing the raw, red welts on his back now, I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of disorientation. Those were the marks of the Donovan family’s punishment. Adrian and I had grown up as childhood sweethearts, both the youngest in our families, so we always had plenty to talk about. During our school days, he’d always wait for me outside my villa so we could walk to school together. While other kids had one-on-one tutors, we had one-on-two sessions. During holidays, we’d chase the Northern Lights in Santa Claus Village in Finland, and watch stars in the highest dark sky park. In my rebellious high school years, I once mentioned how thrilling motorcycles seemed. He practiced tirelessly, covered in bruises, yet he’d still grin at me. “Come on, my princess, let’s go for a ride.” But he lost control on a turn, and we crashed. We lay side-by-side in hospital beds, giggling like fools. Our bodies hurt, but our hearts felt warm. After we recovered, his father still punished him. His back was striped with bloody welts from a cane, and I cried my eyes out. He, however, brushed it off, saying only I could make him break the rules and get disciplined. Now, he was willing to be whipped bloody just to be with another woman. It was true then, that love was real. But it was also true that love could change so easily. Mr. Donovan kicked Adrian hard. “You rebellious fool! I will never agree to you being with this woman. Give it up now!” “The alliance between the Sterling and Donovan families must go through.” Adrian’s eyes were resolute. “You don’t need to agree. Seraphina and I are in love. I won’t marry anyone but her in this life.” He picked her up, staggering towards the door. One had a back full of bloody marks, the other was crying a river of tears. They looked like star-crossed lovers torn apart in a TV drama. Mr. Donovan was about to say more, but I stopped him. “I don’t want a man whose heart belongs to another woman. The marriage pact between the Sterling and Donovan families is off.” Mr. Donovan hesitated for a moment. “The partnership between Sterling and Donovan is already established. Caleb heard about your canceled engagement, and he’s willing to form an alliance with the Sterling family. What do you think?” I was taken aback. Caleb was Adrian’s uncle, ten years older than me, and had been developing business overseas. In my last life, he hadn’t married even by forty; I heard he had a past love he couldn’t forget. Mr. Donovan added, “It’s fine if you don’t agree. The Sterling-Donovan partnership can still continue.” I nodded. “I accept.” He had his white moonlight, and I had no interest in love. As long as our marriage benefited our families, that was all that mattered. True love? What was that worth? Hearing this, Adrian, who had paused at the doorway, took a deep breath and continued out. Five years later, during the Lunar New Year festivities. Caleb and I returned to the States. At the family dinner, I unexpectedly ran into Adrian. I gave a slight nod and turned to leave. But Adrian called out to me, the usual disgust and impatience gone from his eyes. “Are you doing well?”

I nodded casually. “I’m doing great.” “I heard you have a child?” His tone was complicated. “You used to say you wanted a DINK lifestyle, that you didn’t like kids?” He was referring to our last life. We’d been married for two years with no children. After a medical check-up, I discovered Adrian had low sperm count. To spare his male pride, I never told him, instead claiming that I didn’t like children and didn’t want them. He’d wholeheartedly agreed back then, saying it was perfect—no one to interrupt our couple’s world, just the two of us for life. There was no need to explain it now. I simply said, “Preferences change. I love having a child now.” Thinking of my son, born after ten months of carrying him, my face softened. He’d just returned to the States and was still adjusting; Caleb was upstairs putting him to sleep. I wondered if he was asleep yet. Adrian’s expression grew even more complex. “Are you still upset that I left you for Seraphina?” His voice carried a sigh. “I know you’ve also been reborn, otherwise you wouldn’t have been so calm when I called off the wedding five years ago.” “In the last life, you even tried to end your life to win me back. How could you willingly have a child with someone else in this life?” “You’re stubborn, Aurora. You don’t let go of someone you’ve fixated on so easily.” “Aurora, you don’t have to pretend to be so calm in front of me.” Listening to his analysis of me, my thoughts drifted back. I was stubborn, always pushing until I hit rock bottom. In my previous life, I genuinely couldn’t accept that the person I deeply loved could change his heart so easily. I pulled out photos of us playing as children, hoping to rekindle memories of our shared past. Adrian dismissed them as childish games. I reminded him of his vows under the Northern Lights, where he’d promised me forever. He claimed they were just meaningless words said in the heat of the moment. I stormed his company, making a scene, accusing him of infidelity and bad character. In response, he retaliated against Sterling Corp., stealing several of our projects. Unable to get through to him, I went to Seraphina. I confronted her, demanding to know why she betrayed me after I helped her escape her difficult past, only for her to turn around and push me into hell. Seraphina, however, calmly stated that I was the one who taught her to seize every opportunity to climb higher, and Adrian was simply an opportunity I had delivered to her. Behind my back, she frequently used my name to arrange meetings with Adrian. Small, accidental touches, subconscious glances—she slowly but surely lured Adrian away. After hearing this, I slapped her repeatedly, cursing her as a cheap, conniving woman. Adrian, however, violently slapped me, calling me a shrew. Seraphina cowered in his arms, looking utterly pathetic. “Adrian, Aurora didn’t mean it. Please, don’t be angry with her, okay?” Adrian looked at her with such tenderness. “You’re always so kind. She’s not like you. She’s an heiress; she has everything. But you only have me. If I don’t protect you, who will?” That scene stabbed me to the core. The man who had once been so worried if I accidentally tripped was now slapping me. Utter despair washed over me, as if the very foundation of my long-held feelings had collapsed. I lay in the bathtub, slitting my wrist. My parents, worried, came to check on me and found me, rushing me to the hospital. They cursed Adrian, then cursed me, asking what they would do if I left them. It was then that I noticed the many gray hairs on their heads, the deepened wrinkles on their faces. In that moment, I seemed to snap awake, to let go. It took half my life to rip Adrian from my heart. I agreed to the divorce, but then came the car crash. Perhaps fate wanted to give us a second chance, so we were reborn on our wedding day, and destiny began to spin anew. My thoughts returned to the present, facing Adrian, who was reminiscing about the past. I couldn’t help but find it amusing, and indeed, I chuckled. After experiencing death, all those crumbling emotions had long since been swept away by the current of time. “You’re overthinking it. I was just thinking about my husband and son.”

I tried to leave. But Adrian suddenly grabbed my arm. “Aurora, I…” “I’ve been looking for you, Adrian. There you are!” Seraphina suddenly appeared, grabbing Adrian’s hand before he could reach for mine. Adrian frowned. “Why are you here?” Seraphina’s face held a hint of grievance. “Your family doesn’t like me. I didn’t want to face them alone.” Then she looked at me, a flicker of surprise in her eyes, regretting what she’d just said about his family. She possessively linked her arm through Adrian’s. “Aurora, welcome back to the States! But… why are you here alone with my husband?” “I don’t mean anything by it, of course, I just worry what people might misunderstand.” She was elegantly dressed now, but deep in her eyes, a barely concealed worry flickered. Seeing the hidden meaning in her words, I stated directly, “Not everyone is like you, desperate to seduce someone who’s already taken.” “Besides, I have no interest in picking up someone else’s trash, so don’t worry about anyone trying to steal him from you.” As soon as I finished, both Adrian and Seraphina’s faces fell. I didn’t look at them again and went straight upstairs. Years ago, when Adrian insisted on marrying Seraphina despite his family’s objections, Mr. Donovan had sent him to a smaller company in the South. Even when he came back for the holidays, he couldn’t stay in the family mansion and had to use a hotel. I’d heard before that Adrian rarely returned to the old family estate. Yet, I saw him again at dinner the next day. I was quietly eating when suddenly, a shrimp landed on my plate. Adrian’s voice was gentle and natural. “You love this dish, and it’s a bit far. Here, have some.” The table immediately fell silent. I frowned, intending to discard the shrimp, but Caleb gently took my hand and picked up the shrimp himself. “Your aunt doesn’t like shrimp. Don’t serve it to her next time.” Adrian instinctively retorted, “How can that be? She loves shrimp!” I cut him off. “I’ve never liked seafood since I was a kid. My whole family knows that. Especially shrimp.” I only ever pretended to like it because Adrian did. Adrian seemed to recall something, and his face went pale. Later, while taking a walk after dinner, I saw Adrian and Seraphina talking in a corner of the garden. The wind carried snippets of their conversation. “We usually just came for the second day of the Lunar New Year and left, right? Why are we staying today? You’re not here to see Aurora, are you? Is she seducing you?” “What nonsense are you spouting? Don’t you dare assume everyone is manipulative just because you are!” Seraphina’s face burned. “If you hadn’t been open to cheating in the first place, could I have seduced you? You’re losing your patience with me, Adrian. Are you regretting it?” “Don’t be ridiculous.” Adrian irritably lit a cigarette and walked away. That night, as they said their goodbyes, Seraphina passed by me and seemed to trip, pulling me down with her. Caught off guard, I fell on top of her. Beneath her, a pool of crimson spread. She looked at Adrian, eyes wide with terror. “I… I think I’m pregnant! Our baby… will it be okay?”

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The day Liam stormed out of the house in a huff, I braved the pouring rain to find him. I never imagined a live power line would snap and strike me, costing me my arms forever. From then on, my dream of becoming a doctor shattered, and I became a permanent fixture in hospitals. I tried to end my life many times, but my family always pulled me back from the brink. Liam knelt before me, pleading: “I’m so sorry, Chloe. Please, just don’t die. Can you do that for me?” Sarah quit her job to watch over me day and night. David worked himself to the bone, picking up extra shifts, even taking a transfer overseas, all to fund my recovery. I thought things would slowly get better. But just as I was finally learning to adapt, to use my feet where my hands once were, I overheard their conversation by accident: “I wish… I wish we had just let her go back then.” That evening, I crept up to the rooftop alone. The wind howled. I sniffled, fighting back tears. “Chloe! Don’t move!” Sarah ran over, pulling me back from the edge of the rooftop with all her might. The force was too much; we both tumbled to the ground. Before I could even get up, she raised her hand, and a sharp, stinging slap echoed across my cheek. “Are you insane? Are you trying to kill me too?” My ears rang, and my cheek burned with a fierce sting. The next second, Sarah pulled me into her arms, holding me in a death grip. “If you dare to jump, I’ll go with you! I swear, I’ll follow you!” Her scorching tears dripped onto my neck. Liam stood panting beside us; he’d run so hard he nearly tripped. Seeing me safe, his knees buckled, and he almost collapsed. Muffled against Sarah’s shoulder, I whispered: “I wasn’t trying to die, honest.” “I just needed some air, a moment to clear my head.” Sarah stiffened, but her embrace tightened even more. After a long moment, Liam turned away, his shoulders slumped. “Let’s go. Let’s go home.” Back downstairs, I rinsed my feet under the faucet as usual, then settled at the dining table. The food, reheated too many times, looked dull and unappetizing. I lowered my head, my toes expertly gripping the spoon, slowly lifting each mouthful to my lips. Sarah sat across from me, her eyes red and swollen. Liam poked at his food with his fork, not taking a single bite. “Chloe, Ashley’s coming over tomorrow. We’re going to talk about our engagement.” I paused, then nodded. “Oh, that’s great. I actually have plans with a friend tomorrow, so I won’t be back for dinner.” Liam lowered his head, taking a large spoonful of rice. We both knew the truth. Since my accident, I barely left the hospital, and I’d lost touch with everyone I knew. I had no friends left. That night, Sarah was in the bathroom, drawing my bath as she always did. I stood in the doorway, watching her bend over to test the water temperature. “Mom. Can I grow my hair long?” She slowly straightened up, turning to look at me. “Why the sudden change of heart?” I looked at myself in the mirror. “Long hair could… cover them. Make it less obvious that I don’t have hands.” The washcloth slipped from Sarah’s hand, splashing into the tub. After a long moment, she bent down to pick it up, rinsing it repeatedly under the faucet. The rushing water almost drowned out her suppressed sobs. Her back to me, her voice thick with emotion, she said: “Yes, my darling. Long hair will make you the most beautiful girl.” The next morning, I was woken by the doorbell. It wasn’t even eight yet when Sarah, looking flustered, opened the door. “Coming!” A cheerful female voice replied: “Hi Sarah! I’m so sorry, I know I’m early. My parents will be here a bit later.” I sat up, pushing open my bedroom door with my foot. In the living room, a girl stood beside Liam. Her long hair cascaded over her shoulders, and she held a beautifully wrapped gift. She was smiling and chatting with Sarah. At the sound of my movement, she turned, her gaze falling, just for a moment, on my empty sleeves.

I turned, wanting to duck back into my room, but Ashley Thompson just smiled, walking right up to me. “You must be Chloe. Liam talks about you all the time. It’s so good to finally meet you!” She pulled a soft grey scarf from a gift bag and gently draped it around my shoulders. “I saw this scarf on a trip; it’s cashmere, super soft. The color will look gorgeous on you.” The scarf carried a faint, pleasant scent. I froze, my toes curling instinctively. “Thank you.” Liam and Sarah stood by, their expressions tight with tension. I lowered my head, wanting to retreat. “I’m sorry, I actually have plans today, so I won’t be staying for lunch.” Ashley’s hand rested gently on my shoulder. “I’ve tried to visit so many times, but we always miss each other. Today, I really want to spend some time talking to you.” She smiled playfully. “Liam, don’t you agree?” Liam looked at me. “Chloe, could you maybe reschedule your plans?” I quietly hummed my agreement. By the time I had washed up and settled on the sofa, Ashley, wearing Sarah’s apron, was already in the kitchen helping out. She moved with practiced ease, chatting with Sarah as she worked, making my mom smile. Ashley placed a fruit platter on the coffee table and sat down beside me. “Chloe, your eyes are so beautiful. You should smile more often.” I forced a small smile, unsure how to respond. Ashley’s parents arrived next. Mr. and Mrs. Thompson were impeccably dressed and spoke with polite reserve. The gifts they’d brought piled up on one corner of the coffee table. When lunch was served, I stood up. “I think I’ll eat in my room, you all…” Ashley gently took my arm, pulling a chair closer to hers. “You sit right here next to me.” Sarah opened her mouth, then closed it. Liam looked like he wanted to say something, but held back. I ended up sitting down. At first, everyone chatted about the weather and preliminary wedding plans. Ashley even served me, naturally, as if we’d known each other forever. Until my toes, with practiced ease, gripped the soup spoon. The smiles vanished from Mr. and Mrs. Thompson’s faces. They set down their spoons and exchanged a look. Only Ashley’s voice continued, a lonely sound at the dinner table. After the meal, Mr. Thompson took a sip of tea. “Liam is a good young man; we have no objections, as long as you two are happy together.” He paused, his gaze slowly sweeping in my direction. “But there’s one condition: once you’re married, your priority must be your own family. Your sister has parents to care for her, Liam. You can’t keep putting her first in everything.” Liam’s back immediately stiffened. “Mr. Thompson, Chloe is my sister. I will never abandon her.” Mr. Thompson raised a hand, cutting him off. “But you’re starting your own family now. You can’t take care of her forever.” “I can!” “No, you can’t! Not unless you don’t want to marry my daughter.” The air grew thick with tension. “He can.” All eyes turned to me. I stared at my empty sleeves, then repeated softly: “Liam can do it.” Ashley jumped to her feet. “Dad! What are you saying?” “I won’t agree to that! Chloe is like my sister, now and always!” Mr. Thompson’s voice suddenly rose. “What about you? How will you live your life? Always taking a backseat to her?” Mr. Thompson grabbed her wrist. “Come on, we’re leaving!” Ashley was half-dragged, half-pulled by her parents towards the door. She looked back, tears streaming down her face. Liam pulled out a cigarette pack and walked onto the balcony. His lighter clicked several times before the flame finally caught. I watched him through the glass door. His back was hunched, smoke rising in plumes, only to be snatched away by the wind. In that moment, looking at my limp, empty sleeves, a wave of nausea washed over me. Suddenly, I hated myself. Deeply, utterly, terribly hated myself.

In the middle of the night, I woke to sounds from the living room. I padded out barefoot. Liam was bent over, hastily pulling on his shoes. “Liam, where are you going?” He froze. “Ashley snuck out. She just called, she’s over by the marshlands park.” “I’m going to pick her up now.” I paused, then nodded. “It’s cold out, make sure you bundle up.” He stood up, looking at me. “Go back to sleep, Chloe.” I forced a small smile. “I’ll leave the door unlocked. I’ll wait for you to bring Ashley home.” Liam smiled too, reaching out to ruffle my hair. “Okay.” The door closed softly. Streetlights blinked off one by one, and dawn slowly broke. Liam didn’t come back. When Sarah got up, she was startled to see me curled up on the sofa. “Chloe? Why are you sleeping out here?” “Liam went to pick up Ashley. He’s not back yet.” Sarah dialed the number. It rang for an agonizingly long time before someone finally answered. As she listened, her face slowly drained of all color, turning chalk-white. “Which hospital? We’re coming right away!” Sarah turned to me, her lips trembling. “Ashley… she was hit by a car.” The light outside the emergency room was blindingly white. When we rushed there, we spotted Liam leaning against the wall from afar. His clothes were dusty, and a bruise darkened his temple. Mr. Thompson, who had been so polite and composed yesterday, now had bloodshot eyes and was clutching Liam’s collar with a death grip. “This is all because of you! All of it, you damn scumbag! If it wasn’t for you, my daughter wouldn’t have run out in the middle of the night! She wouldn’t have been hit by a car!” Sarah stumbled forward, bowing her head repeatedly, clasping her hands together in desperate apology. Her voice trembled, tears streaming down her face. “We were wrong, we failed as parents.” Mr. Thompson shoved Liam away, pointing a finger at Sarah. “Get out!” “Take your son, and that… disabled girl, and get out! Never show your faces here again!” “If anything happens to Ashley, I swear I’ll make you pay!” We stood there for a long time. Until the emergency room door opened. The doctor emerged, pulling down his mask. “The patient is out of immediate danger, but we’ll need to keep her under observation.” Mr. and Mrs. Thompson immediately rushed towards him. Liam took half a step forward, then froze. Sarah clutched his arm. “Let’s go, let’s go home for now.” On the drive home, the car was filled with an oppressive silence. Liam gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. I sat in the back, watching the back of his head. For a fleeting second, I saw him quickly lift a hand to wipe at his eyes. Back at home, I retreated to my bedroom. I don’t know how much time passed before a muffled sob reached me. “Sarah, it’s my fault. I ruined Ashley’s life.” “If anything serious happens to her…” “Why didn’t I just agree yesterday?! Why didn’t I just say yes?!” His cries grew louder. Then, I heard his hoarse voice: “If I had known this would happen, I wouldn’t have stopped her from dying in the first place.” Then, a sharp, resounding slap echoed through the quiet house. Followed by Sarah’s raw, broken wails. I leaned my back against the door, slowly sliding down to the floor. Tears streamed silently down my face, tracing paths to my neck, soaking into my collar.

The next afternoon, my cell phone rang. I took a few shaky breaths, then used my toes to swipe and answer. My dad’s face appeared on the screen. Behind him was a makeshift work camp, the sky a dreary grey. He looked thinner, and his skin was much darker. “Chloe, have you eaten yet?” “How have you been doing? Are your arms still hurting?” I forced a smile, trying to keep my voice light. “Yeah, I ate. I’m doing great.” “Dad, you’ve lost weight, and you’re so tanned.” He waved a dismissive hand. “I’m fine, honey. Your old man’s tough.” “This project here is almost done. Once I get paid, I’ll come back and find you the best physical therapist.” Just then, someone off-screen shouted his name, urging him back to work. “Dad, you should go. I’m really fine, truly.” “You need to take care of yourself out there, don’t get sick, eat well, stay warm…” I rattled on, and David smiled. “Alright, I gotta go. You listen to Sarah, okay?” I set the phone down, rubbing my cheek against my knee. It was wet. The house was quiet. Sarah and Liam had left for the hospital early that morning. On the living room table, a plate of food waited for me. I sat down and ate, mouthful by mouthful, very slowly. Then, I went back to my room and opened my closet with my foot. In the very back, hung a light blue dress with delicate embroidery on the bodice. Liam bought it for me with his very first paycheck. He said, “Our Chloe will look just like a princess in this.” That felt like a lifetime ago. It took me far longer than usual, using my feet and teeth, to awkwardly put it on. The zipper was in the back, out of my reach, so the dress hung open. Sitting before the mirror, I stared at my reflection. The dress, unzipped, hung loosely on my frame, its sleeves dangling empty. Suddenly, I just wanted to hear Sarah’s voice. I picked up my phone, dialing Sarah’s number with my foot. It rang and rang, but no one answered. I tried again, with the same result. Then I called Liam. This time, it was quickly hung up. Seconds later, a text message popped up. Just three words. “I’m so annoyed.” I stared at those three words for a long, long time. Then, I typed out a reply. “I’m sorry.” Slipping on my softest canvas shoes, I left the house. At the far end of the apartment complex, there was a building tucked away in a secluded corner. I didn’t take the elevator. Instead, I started climbing the stairs. It backed onto a wall, and below it was an overgrown patch of shrubs, usually deserted, their branches looking half-dead. I climbed all the way to the top floor—the eighteenth. The wind on the rooftop was just as fierce as I remembered. I walked to the edge, sat down, and let my legs dangle over. This way, I wouldn’t fall on anyone. I fumbled a painkiller from my dress pocket, ripped open the foil with my teeth, and swallowed it. I was afraid of the pain, and even more afraid of failing, of surviving and being even more pathetic. Then, I gently leaned forward. The wind roared violently from below, filling my ears with its deafening shriek. … Sarah and Liam returned that evening. As their car pulled into the apartment complex, they saw a dense crowd gathered in the distance. A chilling premonition flashed through them. Sarah pushed open the car door, her legs giving out, almost sending her to her knees. Liam steadied her, and they both stumbled, running towards the crowd. They forced their way to the very front. In a cleared-out space, a grimy plastic tarp covered something. A sliver of light blue fabric peeked out from under the edge, along with a small wisp of dark hair. Sarah, like a madwoman, pushed past everyone trying to stop her and tore away the plastic tarp.

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Bound by an ancient pact, father presented two sisters from a once-prominent family. Caleb and I were to choose our wives. The elegant and brilliant Celeste immediately fell for Caleb. My gaze fell on Aurora, whose legs were crippled. A heavy sigh escaped me; my heart, a foolish thing, softened, and I accepted her. After our marriage, I scoured the world for doctors, desperately searching for a cure for her legs. Her condition never improved. She grew withdrawn, consumed by despair. I tried to lift her spirits, my voice firm with encouragement. I truly believed that if I was simply good enough to her, she would eventually find the strength to pick herself up. But on the day our enemies ambushed us, she sprang from her wheelchair, shoving me directly into the line of fire. “I’m sorry, I can’t just stand by and watch Caleb die.” So, to save Caleb, I was expendable? She gave me one last, deep look, then slammed the heavy door shut. “I owe you for this life, but I’ll repay you in the next!” I clenched my fists, my nails digging painfully into my palms. It hit me then: her paralysis, her despair—it had all been an act, solely for me. When my eyes next opened, father’s familiar voice echoed, instructing Caleb and me to choose our wives once more.

I stared at the people before me, a chilling hatred seeping from my very bones. Caleb glanced at the graceful and refined Celeste, then turned to me, his face etched with feigned concern. “You’re too young, too sheltered,” he’d said, his voice laced with false pity. “How could I let you marry Aurora, crippled as she is? I’ll take her. It’s truly no burden.” He’d said the exact same words in my previous life. Back then, I actually believed he was the kindest soul alive. To spare him any perceived hardship, I refused. “Caleb,” I stated, my voice resolute, “you and Celeste are clearly smitten with each other. How could I possibly stand in your way?” I forcefully chose the supposedly crippled sister, Aurora. For seven long years, I scoured the world for doctors and prayed for her recovery in church every single day. Then, our enemies attacked. My beloved wife, the woman I had meticulously cared for for seven years, sprang from her wheelchair and, without hesitation, shoved me out to die. “I’m sorry, I can’t just stand by and watch Caleb die.” She didn’t even give me time to react before she slammed the thick, heavy door shut. Caleb had dozens of bodyguards, and a secret escape tunnel just steps away from where he could have met Celeste. He’d said he’d protect me first. But after she pushed me, he didn’t call a single soul to my rescue. I died, and he inherited a reputation for kindness. The thought made a chilling, humorless laugh bubble up. “Then let’s switch.” The air instantly froze. Caleb’s gentle expression stiffened. Celeste’s head snapped up, and she blurted out, “No!” Father’s face, too, darkened ominously, his authoritative gaze sweeping between Aurora and me. “Nonsense! Your elder brother cannot marry a cripple!” A wave of icy despair washed over me, a chill that seeped into my very bones. So, you do know that marrying a cripple is unacceptable. In my last life, when I chose Aurora, he hadn’t said that. He’d called me sensible, praised me for ‘considering the family’s best interests,’ a true son of the Vances. Just then, a clear, cool voice broke the silence. “I am not crippled.” To everyone’s stunned disbelief, Aurora slowly rose to her feet. Her posture was ramrod straight, radiating a fierce, almost icy composure unique to her. I stared, my blood turning to ice. She’d been faking it the whole time? What about all those sleepless nights I spent searching for a cure, then? What was that for? I’d even sacrificed my own shares, begged Father to let her stay when she’d fallen out of favor! What was any of that, then? It was all a cruel, twisted joke! Seeing her now, I instantly understood. She had been reborn, too. So, her “I’ll repay you in the next life” from before? Just empty words. Even given a second chance, she still wanted nothing to do with me. Fine. I had no intention of having her either. “Mr. Vance, my business acumen might even surpass my sister’s.” Aurora’s voice was calm and confident. With just a few concise sentences, she pinpointed the exact critical flaw in the Vance Group’s current strategy, her analysis even sharper than Celeste’s. “I have a plan to turn our losses into profit within three months.” Father’s shock morphed into unbridled delight. I saw Caleb’s gaze on Aurora shift, a surprising, almost predatory gleam in his eyes. He quickly reined in his expression, moving to Celeste’s side with a practiced look of concern. “Celeste, I’m counting on you to take good care of Asher from now on.” Celeste’s dark, resentful gaze landed on my prosthetic left eye. The one that had been gouged out when I shielded Caleb from an attacker. Celeste’s eyes were filled with disgust as she stated, word for word, “I implore you, Mr. Vance, cancel this engagement and grant me my freedom. I would rather start from scratch than marry Asher.”

Father’s face instantly darkened. His stern gaze bore down on Celeste. “Cancel the engagement?” he boomed. “You wish for the entire city to mock the Vance family, to brand us as untrustworthy?” Celeste’s delicate brows furrowed, her gaze settling squarely on my face—or rather, on the dull, lifeless gray of my prosthetic eye. “I am not worthy of Young Master Asher,” she said, her tone distant. “Please, Mr. Vance, grant me this request.” Caleb immediately stepped forward, his face a mask of feigned anguish as he gently chastised her. “Celeste, how can you say such a thing? You’re breaking Asher’s heart!” Celeste looked at him, and her eyes instantly softened with tender emotion. “If I cannot be with the man my heart truly desires, I would rather remain unwed for life.” I almost scoffed aloud. What a performance of undying devotion! A flicker of triumph flashed in Caleb’s eyes before he swiftly replaced it with his usual ‘concerned for others’ facade. “Don’t be rash,” he urged. “Have you forgotten our enemies? They won’t spare you now that you’re vulnerable. I can’t just stand by and watch you fall into ruin.” Celeste, predictably, was visibly moved, her gaze growing even softer. A cold, cutting smile twisted my lips. “Well, if that’s the case,” I drawled, “why not just let Celeste and Aurora both marry Caleb?” “That way, the engagement isn’t broken, and all the ‘lovers’ are satisfied.” “After all, the contract never specified Caleb couldn’t have two wives.” “As for who’d be the official wife and who’d be relegated to a lesser status, Caleb can just decide, can’t he?” Caleb shot me a glare that was meant to be scolding but held an undeniable spark of secret pleasure. “Asher, what nonsense are you spewing!” Father’s gaze shifted to me, tinged with a hint of suspicion. “Are you truly rejecting both of them?” I was unequivocal. “Absolutely.” Aurora and Celeste both looked at me, their expressions mirroring each other’s disdain, as if to say, If even we don’t want him, who would? Father pondered for a moment, then asked, “Then who do you intend to marry?” “I want Sloane Knight,” I declared, “the sole heiress of the Knight family.” A collective gasp filled the room. Father himself shot to his feet, utterly stunned. “Are you insane?” he roared. “That’s Sloane! The city’s most notorious wild child, who revels in scandal! Even the psychics predicted she wouldn’t live past thirty!” The Knight family’s fortune dwarfed even our own Vance Group. But Sloane was infamously rebellious and scandalous, and two years ago, she’d been struck by a grave illness. Every doctor agreed she wouldn’t see her thirtieth birthday. Any man who married into that situation was signing up for a living hell. Even with the Knight family’s promise to grant twenty percent of their company shares to their son-in-law, no one in elite circles dared to let their son marry into the Knights. I straightened my back, meeting Father’s gaze with unwavering calm. “I am willing to marry Sloane, for the future of the Vance family.” “But you must grant me ten percent of the Vance Group shares as a personal settlement.” The cunning glint in Father’s eyes dimmed slightly. An expected reaction. His favoritism had never been for me; why would he willingly part with any shares to give them to me now? I let out a short, cold laugh. “Father, my face is disfigured. I’ll be powerless and alone in the Knight family. Without some leverage, how can I ever gain a foothold?” “Besides, how many years does Sloane have left? Once she’s gone, won’t everything the Knights own ultimately become ours?” A flicker of calculation crossed his face, and he finally nodded. “Fine, I agree.”

Upon entering the Knight family, I found myself treated with immense respect by Mr. and Mrs. Knight. They not only personally guided me through their vast business empire, but also taught me the ropes themselves. Two months later, my very first project there was a resounding success, its profits far exceeding all expectations. Mr. and Mrs. Knight were overjoyed and hosted a grand celebration banquet in my honor. At the banquet, I wore a sharply tailored suit, my posture impeccable, becoming the undeniable focal point of the entire room. Caleb approached me, a glass in hand, his smile deceptively charming. “Congratulations, Asher. But I must advise you, try not to get too carried away.” He added, with a pointed smirk, “Especially when those ‘achievements’ are entirely thanks to someone else’s generous backing.” I swirled the red wine in my glass, my gaze sharp. “Caleb’s right,” I agreed, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Father’s been propping you up for years. Funny how you still haven’t managed to accomplish even a shred of anything worthwhile.” Father, who was conversing nearby, heard my words and, for the first time, shot Caleb a cold look. Caleb’s face instantly crumpled into a wounded, pitiful expression. “Asher, how can you speak to me like that? I’m only trying to help you!” He then shifted his gaze to my eye, feigning concern. “Your main priority now is to win Sloane’s heart, to… well… get things moving. But with that eye… so ugly, it’s no wonder she can’t stand the sight of you.” “If I’d known, I never would have let you marry into the Knights in the first place. You’d be better off just staying home than being kicked out onto the streets.” My eyes blazed as I fixed my gaze on Caleb, each word biting. “Caleb, have you forgotten how I lost this eye?” “When those thugs attacked us, even with you wounded and the situation dire, I never once considered abandoning you. I held your hand and ran.” “But how did you repay me?” “Yet you tripped me, leaving me to be caught and have one of my eyes brutally gouged out!” Caleb’s face went chalk white. Speechless, he could only stammer out a fake apology, “I’m sorry, Asher, I didn’t mean to…” “Cut the act!” I snarled, cutting him off. “Don’t think a few mumbled apologies can hide your utter viciousness.” Celeste, shielding a sniffling Caleb, rounded on me, her eyes flashing fury. “Asher! That’s too far!” Aurora was even more direct. She lunged forward, grabbing my wrist with surprising force, trying to yank me in front of Caleb. “Caleb has always been kind!” she hissed. “You’re slandering him! Apologize to him, now!” I violently shook her off, then, without a second thought, raised my foot and kicked out at her. “Who the hell do you think you are?” I spat. “You’re nothing but Caleb’s dirty little secret, a mistress he’s too ashamed to acknowledge! Do you really think you have a right to speak here?” Aurora stared up at me, her beautiful face filled with disbelief. “How can you say such a thing to me?” Then her face hardened, and she gritted out, “Regardless, you will apologize to Caleb first.” With that, she actually tried to trip me, aiming a kick at my shin, intending to force me to my knees before Caleb. I struggled fiercely, then barked a low command to the security personnel behind me. “Get her out of here!” Aurora’s pretty eyes widened. “Why are you throwing me out?” I sneered. “Because this is a Knight family event, and you, a mere mistress with no standing, have no right to cause a scene here!” Aurora tried to shout again but was powerless to resist. A week later. Aurora burst in, her face etched with panic. She seized my arm, her grip surprisingly strong. “Come with me, quickly! Caleb’s in grave danger!”

My heart remained utterly unmoved. I violently shook her off. “Asher, please, come on! If you don’t go, the Thorne family will kill Caleb!” Aurora yelled, her face contorted in distress. “I don’t care how he offended the Thorne family,” I retorted coldly. “What does that have to do with me?” “Asher!” Aurora’s pretty face flushed crimson with rage. She gritted her teeth. “Caleb only chose that high-risk, high-reward project to surpass you! You’re responsible for this!” I almost laughed. Caleb’s project failed, so he kidnapped his competitor, intending to force them out of business. He hadn’t realized that the person was a tough nut to crack, nor that she was Jasper Thorne, the young heir of the powerful Thorne family, doing a stint in the business world. Caleb had tortured Jasper so severely that he was still in the ICU. The Thorne family wielded immense power; a mere whisper from them could shake the entire city. They even operated their own private prison. Anyone who entered that private hell emerged either crippled or driven insane. “I don’t give a damn,” I scoffed, turning to leave. “How is this not about you?” “Asher, if you hadn’t done so well with your projects, showing off in front of Caleb, he never would have been provoked into doing something like this!” Aurora blocked my path, her eyes rimmed with angry red, fixated on me. “Now, it’s your responsibility to go and atone for his sins, isn’t it?” With that, she reached out and grabbed my arm, attempting to drag me toward a car. Taking advantage of Aurora’s distraction, I slammed my elbow into her, seizing the opportunity to break free. But before I could even catch my breath, I heard hurried footsteps behind me. I turned to see Father approaching, with Celeste by his side. Father’s face was grim, and Celeste’s eyes were chillingly cold. My heart sank, a knot of foreboding tightening in my gut. Celeste rushed forward without a word, clamping her hand around my arm. “Let go!” I roared, struggling desperately. “Aurora!” Celeste yelled to Aurora, who was still wincing in pain. Aurora immediately reacted, running over to help. Two women against me, I found myself struggling to break free. They wrestled me to the ground, binding my hands and feet with rope. My eyes blazed with fury as I glared at Father. “Father, what is the meaning of this?” Father avoided my piercing gaze, his voice trembling slightly. “Asher, don’t blame me. Caleb has never known hardship. He won’t survive the Thorne family’s torture.” He wouldn’t survive? So, he was willing to sacrifice me without a second thought? I turned my head to Aurora, my voice filled with angry accusation. “Aurora, are you truly doing this?!” Aurora looked at me, a flicker of complex emotion in her eyes, but she still resolutely dragged me toward the car. “Aurora, your attitude toward me hasn’t changed at all. Still as cruel as ever.” Aurora looked back at me, her face devoid of any surprise. “I’m sorry, Asher.” Sorry? I almost burst out laughing. “Aurora, your apology is a joke. Push someone to their death, then offer a ‘sorry’?” “I promise, this is the last time.” Aurora looked at me earnestly, her eyes shimmering with tears. “I’ve already figured out the loopholes in the Thorne family’s private prison. I’ll do everything in my power to protect you, to ensure you aren’t harmed.” Upon arriving at the Thorne estate, Aurora immediately pushed me away and hurried toward Caleb. She gently stroked Caleb’s back, her voice softer than I had ever heard it. “It’s okay now, I brought him.” “Grandma Thorne, Caleb is innocent. All of this was Asher’s doing.” “All the harm Young Master Jasper suffered, Asher should bear it!” Bound by rope, I lay on the ground in disgrace. I struggled to turn my head to Celeste, my eyes holding one last, sharp scrutiny. “You always prided yourself on your honesty and integrity, didn’t you? Why aren’t you telling the truth?” Celeste avoided my piercing gaze, pulling a document from her pocket. “I’m sorry.” She whispered an apology, then handed the fabricated evidence to Grandma Thorne. “This is proof that Asher was the mastermind behind Young Master Jasper’s kidnapping.” My heart plummeted into an abyss of ice. Grandma Thorne’s face turned ashen after reading the document. She waved a hand, and two men in black immediately stepped forward. A flash of cold steel, and three agonizing stabs tore into my body. “Ugh—” The searing pain made me grunt, and blood instantly stained my chest. Everyone gathered around Caleb, comforting him with soft words, no one sparing me another glance. Just then, a servant rushed in. “Grandma, Jasper is awake!” “He says it was Caleb who harmed him that night, not Asher!” Grandma Thorne erupted in furious anger. “Outrageous! Your Vance family dares to try and shift the blame!” I thought I could finally escape this torment, but Father stepped forward. After a string of reassuring pleasantries, he changed tack. “I only have these two sons. Are you truly going to destroy my entire family?” He pointed at me. “Since Asher has already suffered punishment for Caleb, why not punish him double? Let’s consider this matter closed.” My eyes widened, staring at him in disbelief, my voice hoarse. “Father, I am your son too.” “For Caleb, are you truly willing to let me die?” He averted his gaze uncomfortably. Grandma Thorne glanced at me, then sneered, “Fine.” I was dragged to the Thorne family’s private prison, iron chains locking my hands and feet. One by one, the instruments of torture were laid out before me. Steel needles pierced beneath my fingernails, the intense pain making my muscles seize up, cold sweat beading on my skin. “Ah—!” My blood slowly seeped into the cold ground. I don’t know how much time passed before Aurora walked in. “Aurora, get me out of here, quickly!” “Please, save me…” I gritted my teeth, my voice a ragged whisper. But she merely frowned. “Can you be a little quieter? Caleb is terrified hearing your voice.” I stared at her, incredulous. “Even with me standing here, covered in wounds, your only concern is Caleb’s trivial fear, isn’t it?” Aurora’s face showed a flicker of something akin to pity, her slender hands clenching, but her words remained cold. “Just bear with it a little longer. Caleb isn’t feeling well; I need to go make him some ginger tea first.” “Aurora, please! They’re going to put steel needles into my neck next! If you don’t take me now, I will truly die!” Aurora paused for a moment. “Just bear with it. Caleb can’t handle pain.” She turned and left without another glance. I closed my eyes, numbly feeling the sticky blood on my cheeks. Sloane and Grandma Thorne emerged from the shadows. Sloane draped a jacket over my shoulders, her fingers brushing away the blood-matted hair from my forehead, her voice laced with playful mockery. “Honey, are these your family and the friends you grew up with?” I looked at Grandma Thorne, my face devoid of emotion. “Now, can you believe I have absolutely no loyalty left for the Vance family?” Grandma Thorne nodded in satisfaction. “Welcome aboard.” From that day forward, I was no longer Asher Vance, the second son of the Vance family. I was the Vance Group’s nightmare.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “318037”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #重生Reborn

Brittany was on speakerphone with some trust fund kid, giggling like it was her job. She glanced out the window and sighed. “Ugh, Asher’s waiting downstairs again. So pathetic. Anya, do me a favor? Go tell him I’m sick and send him home.” I looked down at Asher. The whole campus thought he was just a broke transfer student. Only I knew he wasn’t. Last month, I’d picked up a cleaning shift at the city’s most exclusive members’ club. I saw him walk out of a private suite, surrounded by men in suits that cost more than my tuition. Even the club owner was bowing his head, all respect. I grabbed an umbrella and pulled on a thin white tee before heading down. The rain soaked through the fabric, clinging to every curve. I walked up to Asher and held the umbrella over him. “Brittany asked me to tell you to go home.” His eyes lingered on the outline of my chest. His Adam’s apple bobbed once. “Who are you?” “Anya. Her roommate.” That night, Brittany was at a hotel with her rich boy. And I led Asher back to my apartment.

I stirred, my body a dull ache. Asher stood with his back to me, pulling on his worn jeans. “Awake?” He turned. His gaze caught on my bare collarbone, and a slow, knowing smirk touched his lips. “Last night, it was good.” My cheeks burned. I dropped my gaze. Asher walked to the bed and pulled a jeweled bracelet from his pocket. “Didn’t have cash on me. Take this instead.” “Just a family trinket. Not worth much. Consider it a…souvenir.” I’d seen one like it before-on the wrist of that club owner. That night, drunk, he’d slammed it on the table and boasted it was worth a luxury apartment on its own. Playing the pauper? Did he think I was stupid? I pushed the bracelet back. “No, I can’t take it.” I looked up, letting my eyes glisten. “What kind of girl do you think I am?” Asher’s eyebrow lifted, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. “I told you, it’s nothing. Keep it. A trinket for a trinket.” “It’s a family heirloom,”I said softly. “Even a fake one must mean something to you.” I grabbed his hand and pressed the jewel bracelet back into his palm. Asher stared into my eyes for a long moment before letting out a soft chuckle and putting the bracelet away. “Alright, Anya, right? I’ll remember that.” Back in the dorm, Brittany was sitting in front of the mirror applying lipstick, a brand-new Chanel bag beside her. “Well, well, look who decided to show up?” She shot me a sidelong glance in the mirror. I just went about putting my things away, ignoring her. Seeing that I didn’t bite, Brittany crossed her arms, scrutinizing me. “Anya, I told you to get rid of Asher. Where exactly did you get rid of him?” I stopped what I was doing and looked up at her. “Aren’t you with Brody? Why do you still care about Asher?” Brittany’s face instantly flushed, and she sneered. “Just a warning, I don’t want that pauper anymore, but isn’t it a bit gross to pick up my leftovers?” I lowered my eyes, saying nothing else. Arguing with an idiot was a waste of breath. That afternoon, I got a text from Asher. “Dinner tonight.” In the evening, I deliberately changed into a dress and waited for him by the campus gate. Asher arrived precisely on time, his usual cool, detached self. I walked behind him, silently wondering what his intentions were tonight. He suddenly stopped. “Anya, last night…” His words were cut off. “Well, well, isn’t that Asher?” I turned around to see Brittany, arm-in-arm with a smarmy, rich playboy, looking at us with a smirk. “What? Got dumped by me, and you’re already looking for your next conquest?” Brittany’s gaze swept over both of us, full of contempt. “Asher, a penniless guy like you, dating? Seriously? What can you even buy her?” Asher’s expression darkened. I stepped forward, blocking him. “Who I have dinner with is none of your business, is it?” Brittany’s rich boyfriend, Brody, eyed me with interest. “Is this your friend? She’s quite innocent-looking. Why don’t you join us for dinner tonight?” Brittany’s face instantly changed. She quickly tugged at Brody. “Honey, aren’t we supposed to see a movie? Don’t waste your time with these people.” With that, she glared at me, dragging the man away in a hurry. Asher looked at me. “You’re quite protective.” I lowered my head, exposing a pale neck. “I just thought she was going too far.” He suddenly chuckled, a hint of playfulness in his eyes. “Come on, let’s go eat.”

To reel in the big fish, a little bait was necessary. I made sure to track Asher’s movements, then changed into my uniform vest and stood at the mall entrance, holding a stack of flyers. The people coming and going were all loaded, without exception, and they gave me disdainful looks. “Hello, interested in a gym membership…?” A flyer dropped to the ground. I bent down to pick it up, but a hand reached it before mine. My heart skipped a beat. I looked up, and sure enough, it was Asher. He was wearing a yellow delivery uniform, holding an insulated delivery bag. “What a coincidence?” He handed me the flyer, a half-smile on his face. I paused, then my face lit up with surprise. “Asher? You’re here… working too?” Asher played along. “Just running a few orders.” I pulled him to sit on the steps by the mall’s side entrance, then took out a half-empty water bottle from my bag, a little embarrassed. “This is all I have. If you don’t mind…” Asher glanced at the bottle of water but didn’t take it. Instead, he pulled out an unlabeled bottle from his delivery bag, twisted it open, and handed it to me. “Drink this. A customer canceled the order.” I took it, sipping slowly. “Are you really struggling for money?” Asher leaned against the wall. “Yeah, I’m deep in debt. Not sure how I’ll even make rent next month.” I put down the bottle and reached out to hold his hand. “It’s okay.” I looked into his eyes, my voice firm. “I can pick up extra shifts. I’ll support you. As long as we work together, we’ll pay off the debt.” Asher’s fingers stiffened. He turned his head, staring at me intently. “Anya, what do you want from me?” I lowered my head, my cheeks slightly red. “I like you!” Asher smiled. “Alright, then you support me.” He gripped my hand in return. “Remember, you said it yourself. Don’t regret it.” I nodded vigorously. “Never.” Mr. Asher, you said it. Don’t come crying later. Brittany rallied the other roommates to freeze me out, loudly gossiping about me in the dorm. “So shameless, she’ll take any guy.” “Exactly, stealing Brittany’s man. She needs to look at herself.” I ignored them all. The skincare products Asher sent me were accidentally knocked over by Brittany and smashed into a million pieces. She rolled her eyes. “Who told you to leave your stuff everywhere?” I silently knelt down to clean up the mess. Later that evening, while on a FaceTime call with Asher, I was putting ointment on the back of my hand. “What happened to your hand?” he asked. “Huh? Nothing, just bumped it accidentally.” I hastily hid my hand behind my back. The camera, however, subtly scanned over the pile of shattered skincare bottles on the corner of my desk. The next day, Brittany’s rich boyfriend, Brody, suddenly had all his cards frozen by his family, and then he unceremoniously dumped her. Brittany was furious, cursing a blue streak in the dorm and smashing all her makeup. I knew Asher was behind it. Someone like him would never tolerate anyone touching what he considered his property. Even if it was just a toy. To solidify our relationship, I decided to give him a gift. I ordered a hand-knitted scarf online. I specifically requested it to be as ugly as possible, with as many loose threads as possible. It cost thirty bucks, mainly for the emotional value. Asher held the scarf, his expression a little hard to describe. I stood beside him, my face burning red. “I’m sorry… it’s my first time knitting. It’s too ugly, just throw it away.” I reached out to grab it back, but Asher dodged my hand. He wrapped the scarf around his neck. “It’s quite warm.” That night, Asher was exceptionally passionate. At a crucial moment, he suddenly paused. He cupped my chin. “Anya, if I stayed this poor, would you still be with me?” I hugged his neck tighter. “What are you talking about? I like you for who you are, not for your money.” I looked up, my eyes clear and full of deep affection. “As long as I can be with you, I’ll do anything.” Asher’s body stiffened, then came a more intense thrust. “Silly girl.” My gaze went over his shoulder, landing on the watch he’d casually tossed on the bedside table. A Patek Philippe Nautilus, already selling for seven figures on the secondhand market. I silently echoed, Idiot. The next day, his Ins feed updated with a selfie of him wearing the scarf. Although he’d blocked most people, at least he was willing to take a step. That post really got to Brittany. Dumped by the rich playboy, she remembered how good Asher, her backup, used to be. Unwilling to give up, she stormed to the guys’ dorm building to corner Asher. But instead, she watched him get into a black Maybach. Brittany was stunned on the spot. She rushed back to the dorm with the secretly taken photo and threw her phone in front of me. “Anya, you idiot, you’ve been scammed!” “I knew something was off. How could a pauper look so aristocratic? Asher is clearly just a kept man!” She grew more and more agitated, as if she’d stumbled upon some shocking secret. I looked at the photo, a cold laugh forming in my heart. Brittany, Brittany, your imagination only goes so far. A script like the City’s Crown Prince slumming it was clearly beyond your comprehension. I pushed her phone away. “Asher isn’t that kind of person.” Brittany scoffed, putting her phone away. “Whether he is or isn’t, we’ll find out tomorrow, won’t we?” “Anya, you just wait to cry.”

Of course, I wouldn’t ask. But an airhead like Brittany, if she really went to confront Asher about being an escort, given his temper, he’d definitely lose it on the spot and expose his identity. Then, it would be difficult for me to get close to him again. I looked at Brittany, then let out a cold laugh. “Brittany, did that rich playboy dump you, and now you’re desperate, trying to get back with Asher?” “So you’re putting on this whole show, trying to mess with us so you can swoop in?” Brittany’s face instantly turned purple. “What are you talking about? How could I ever be interested in a pauper like him?!” The more agitated she became, the more it proved I was right. “If you’re not interested, then why do you care if he’s an escort?” I pressed on. “Or is it that you just can’t stand to see me doing well?” Brittany glared at me viciously, but in the end, she didn’t go confront Asher. Soon, it was Asher’s birthday. I took out all my savings and maxed out my credit card to scrape together thirty thousand, then went to that upscale watch store I’d scouted earlier. You have to spend money to make money. On Asher’s birthday, Brittany announced she was dating another rich playboy, Trevor. “I’m not like some people, who can stomach dating a kept man.” I ignored her, carrying my plastic bag downstairs. Asher was waiting for me under the tree. “Asher.” Brittany lifted her chin, her face full of superiority. “Waiting for Anya here? You two are truly a match made in heaven, both reeking of poverty.” Trevor, the man with her, wrapped an arm around Brittany’s waist and gave Asher a disdainful look. “Hey, kid, I heard you used to chase Brittany. From now on, stay away from her. A bottom feeder should know his place.” Asher smiled. “Wishing you both a long and happy life together.” Brittany hadn’t expected him to be so straightforward. She froze for a moment, then let out a cold snort and turned to get into a Porsche. Asher stood there, and I walked over, silently standing behind him. He turned, his gaze falling on the black plastic bag in my hand. “What, ashamed of me?” I didn’t speak, instead conjuring a small box from behind my back. I opened the box and lit a candle. The wind was strong, so I cupped my hand around the flame. The orange glow flickered on my face as I looked up, forcing a smile. “Asher, happy birthday.” Asher’s gaze shifted from the cake to the band-aid on my hand. He stared at me, his previously mocking and cold eyes softening little by little. I sniffled, holding the cake up to him. “Make a wish!” The wind blew out the candle. For the first time, I saw a flicker of guilt in the eyes of this elite scion. Even if it was just for a second, it was enough. I handed him the expensive watch that had cost me all my savings. He opened the box, raising an eyebrow, seeming a little surprised, but he didn’t ask any questions. All the heartfelt words I’d prepared suddenly felt unnecessary.

Asher followed me back to my rented apartment. I went to the kitchen to wash my hands, carefully calculating the total cost. Thirty thousand for an entry ticket. This business deal was well worth it. Asher walked into the kitchen, wrapped his arms around me from behind, burying his head in the crook of my neck. I turned, and we embraced in a kiss. He kissed me passionately, then suddenly stopped. “Wait for me.” I watched him walk into the bathroom, his silhouette moving behind the frosted glass. The phone he’d left on the bedside table lit up. A notification glowed on the screen: “Your savings account has been credited: $10,000,000.00. Current balance: $134,578,990.50.” My heart slammed against my ribs. As if pulled by a string, my hand reached out. I punched in the password-memorized from a hundred stolen glances-and unlocked his phone with trembling fingers. The first thing I opened was the banking app. When I saw that impossible string of zeros with my own eyes, a wild laugh almost broke from my throat. A rush of pure, electric triumph flooded my brain. I won. I gambled and won. My life was going to be completely different from today. The rest of my life, no, the rest of my next life, was set. But greed knows no bounds. I wasn’t content just seeing his money. I wanted to see his world. It was the circle I’d only dreamed of entering-the city’s so-called “young royalty.” This was the key. My ticket into a world I’d spent years watching from the outside. I opened Snapchat. Pinned at the top was a group named The Bet. My stomach sank. A cold dread crept up my spine. I tapped it open. The most recent message was a photo. It was me-wearing that thin white tee, every curve visible, looking up with that carefully crafted mix of humility and invitation. “Asher, this chick is something else. Body’s a straight ten.” “Looks all sweet and innocent. Who knew she was that kind of girl?” My heart hammered against my ribs. Hands shaking, I tapped on Asher’s voice memo. “She’s…entertaining. With a body like that, it’d be a shame not to take her to bed.” I scrolled down. Every “chance” encounter, every “vulnerable” confession I’d ever made-all of it was there, dissected in real time. “So, Asher, what’s the timeline on this one?” “Bet she can’t keep up the innocent act past next week.” “The best part’s gonna be when she thinks she’s got you hooked…and you ghost her.” I clutched the phone. Ice seemed to pour down my spine, freezing me from the inside out. Every clever move, every calculated step-in his eyes, it was nothing but a clumsy, laughable performance. A wave of shame-raw, humiliating, all-consuming-crashed over me, followed by the fury of being played and a cold, gripping fear of what came next. The bathroom door opened. I didn’t have time to hide the phone, only to lift my head, stiff. Asher stood in the doorway, a towel slung low around his hips, water still beading in his dark hair. He leaned against the frame, pulled a cigarette from a pack, and lit it. Through the swirling smoke, he looked at me, his face filled with condescending mockery. “What, Anya? Can’t keep playing the game?”

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On our fifth wedding anniversary, my mother fell critically ill. In desperation, I had no choice but to sell the gold jewelry Alexander Thorne had given me when we got engaged. At current market prices, it was worth about $90,000, just enough for my mother’s surgery. But before I could even breathe a sigh of relief, the sales associate looked at me with disdain. “Ma’am, these pieces are fake. They’re worth less than two thousand dollars, at best.” “Fake?” I froze, stunned. Before I could process it, a familiar female voice suddenly drifted over— “When will the golden throne Alexander ordered for me be delivered? He said I’m his delicate little princess, unlike some cheap women who are easily satisfied with knock-offs!” I turned, meeting a pair of mocking eyes. It was Serena, Alexander Thorne’s secretary, the one he was always talking about. The young woman was decked out in designer clothes, looking perfectly polished. Unlike her usual humble and polite demeanor when she faced me, now, the challenge in her eyes was completely unconcealed. I instantly realized: Alexander Thorne was cheating on me. “Oh, Ms. Serena, what perfect timing! Mr. Thorne’s Hermès order from last Wednesday just arrived!” The sales associate at the next counter enthusiastically chatted with Serena. I flinched. Last Wednesday was Lily’s birthday. But Lily and I waited until 2 AM, and Alexander never came home. He said he was busy with work, but it turned out he was busy with another woman. My chest ached, my eyes burned, but I dug my nails into my palms, trying to hold it together. I forced myself to remain calm. “Some people act like they’re living the high life, a trophy wife with everything, but they can’t even keep their husband’s attention.” “And what’s worse, at an age when she’s already being cast aside, she finds out even her wedding jewelry was fake! How pathetic!” Serena scoffed, raising an eyebrow at me. I forced a strained smile, my voice flat. “But no matter what, it’s better than being a rat crawling out of the gutter, wouldn’t you agree?” Serena’s face changed. I ignored her, my steps stiff as I walked away. Back home, I pulled out all the designer bags and jewelry Alexander had given me, intending to sell them. But the results were, without exception, all fakes. The revelation hit me like a plunge into icy waters. Three years of dating, five years of marriage… what did I even mean to Alexander Thorne? Thinking of my mother’s surgery costs, I swallowed my heartbreak and rushed to Alexander Thorne’s company. I brushed past the startled secretary who was about to announce my arrival, standing emotionless outside Alexander Thorne’s office door. Just as I was about to enter, I heard a familiar voice, filled with utter disdain— “I never loved Elara Lin. Back then, she went to great lengths to win over my mother, which is why I was forced to be with her.” “Later, when she was humiliated by all those people, I just watched.” “A woman so tainted, so utterly cheap. Giving her the title of ‘Mrs. Thorne’ was already more than enough; what more could she possibly want?” I froze in disbelief, staring blankly at Alexander. The disgust in his eyes when he spoke of me pierced me like a blade. Alexander Thorne was the older student I had a crush on back in college. It was me who saved his mother, who needed a blood transfusion after a car accident. And it was me who pulled all-nighters writing business proposals, supporting him as he started his company. Eight years ago, in the dead of winter, Alexander’s startup failed, leaving him with massive debts. Debt collectors came to our door, and when they couldn’t get their money, they humiliated me right in front of him. At that moment, Alexander’s eyes were shockingly red, like a trapped beast with its throat choked. He proposed to me then and there. He swore he’d never let me down, not ever. After we married, I quickly gave birth to our daughter. As Alexander Thorne’s business grew, I willingly stepped back, managing everything at home. But I never imagined that in Alexander Thorne’s heart, I was so cheap! Eight years, and all I got in return was his disdain! “Alexander.” I suddenly burst into his office. He flinched, instinctively pushing Serena off his lap. “Elara, how long have you been here?” I didn’t answer. Instead, I went straight to asking for money. Alexander Thorne frowned. “How much?” “Ninety thousand dollars.” “Mrs. Thorne!” Serena gasped suddenly. She looked at me with a condemning gaze. “How can you be so demanding? Asking for ninety thousand dollars just like that? Don’t you ever think about Mr. Thorne?” I sneered. “What does my private business with Alexander have to do with you?” Serena’s eyes reddened. “Mrs. Thorne, you always use your status as Mrs. Thorne to humiliate me. I can take it, but I just feel for Mr. Thorne…” A flicker of emotion crossed Alexander’s eyes. When he looked back at me, there was displeasure in his gaze. “Elara, the company’s cash flow isn’t great right now; I can’t spare that much.” His tone shifted. “Besides, you never cared for these things before, did you?” I stared at him deeply. “Alexander, my mother is critically ill. That’s her life savings!”

Alexander Thorne paused, but what came out was, “Elara, you’d stoop to such lies just for money now?” It felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over me. “Alexander, I’m not lying. My mother is in the hospital right now—” I hadn’t finished speaking when Serena suddenly rushed at me, gripping my wrist tightly. “Mrs. Thorne, I beg you, please understand how hard Mr. Thorne works. If you have grievances, take them out on me!” She looked so frail and pitiful. I hadn’t done a thing, yet she just collapsed to the floor. The next second, Alexander immediately helped her up, his face filled with concern. When he looked back at me, his eyes blazed with suppressed anger. “Elara, I never realized you could be so unreasonable, all for money!” “When did you become so obsessed with money?” Me, obsessed with money? I thought of Serena’s golden throne and couldn’t help but let out a sarcastic laugh. Alexander wished he could house her in a golden palace, but when it came to me, just ninety thousand dollars, and he thought I was materialistic. It truly proved the saying: a man’s love follows his money. I was about to speak when my phone rang suddenly. It was Lily’s kindergarten teacher. “Hello? Is this Lily’s mom? Please come to the kindergarten quickly, Lily’s been hurt!” My face instantly tightened. Without asking too many questions, I hurried to the kindergarten. Half an hour later, I spotted my daughter, huddled and trembling in a corner. She was covered in dirt, bruised all over, her face streaked with tears. My heart instantly ached, and my eyes burned. “What happened? How did Lily get such serious injuries?” The teacher hesitated, then showed me the security footage. Then, I saw a boy, maybe four or five, had Lily pinned to the ground, kicking her hard in the stomach! Lily cried and begged him to stop, but the boy acted as if he didn’t hear her. He even grabbed her hair, slamming her head against the floor again and again! “Why are you hurting Lily!” My face was ashen as I yelled at the boy. He flinched back in fear, then suddenly burst into tears. “Bad woman! You’re bullying me! I’ll tell my dad to kill you!” I sneered, about to scold him. But the next second, Alexander Thorne, who had just rushed in, suddenly changed his expression. He grabbed my wrist forcefully, shoving me to the ground! “Elara, what are you doing!” “You’re a grown adult, bullying a child?” I fell to the ground, my lower back slamming into the table corner, searing with pain. But nothing hurt as much as the rage in my heart. “Alexander, your own daughter is seriously hurt, and you’re ignoring her to care about the one who hurt her?” Alexander, had he gone mad? “Mrs. Thorne!” Suddenly, Serena grabbed the boy and pulled him into a hug, saying, on the verge of tears, “It’s one thing for you to bully me, but why can’t you leave my child alone!” “Poor Devin is so small, and he doesn’t have a father to stand up for him…” A flicker of sympathy instantly crossed Alexander’s eyes, and he looked like he wanted to say something, but hesitated. My mind exploded, a deafening ringing in my ears. It turned out that Alexander and Serena already had a four-year-old child. That meant he’d been cheating on me since the first year of our marriage… “Ha…” A profound irony flooded my heart, and an overwhelming sense of absurdity made me laugh. “Alexander, take a good look at Lily’s injuries. Are you still going to side with Serena?” Alexander Thorne’s gaze fell on Lily, cradled in my arms. Lily’s small face was pale with pain, yet she was still pitifully calling out, “Daddy.” Alexander Thorne frowned. But the next second, his face grew indifferent as he said, “Kids roughhousing is normal; why are you making such a big deal out of it?” “Besides, Devin twisted his ankle too.” With that, he picked up the boy and turned to leave. “I’ll take Devin to the hospital first.” I was struck dumb, as if hit by lightning. I watched his resolute back, unable to snap out of it for a long time. I never thought Alexander Thorne could be so heartless, abandoning even his own flesh and blood. “Elara…” Serena sneered at me, whispering in my ear, “Do you know why Alexander is so indifferent to your daughter?” “He once told me that you got pregnant not long after *those people* humiliated you. Who knows if the child is even his?” The woman walked away with light steps. Only I remained, plunged into an abyss of ice. Back then, when I was humiliated and desperate enough to want to end my life, Alexander Thorne stayed by my side, swearing repeatedly that he would love me with his life. Yet now, he despised my own daughter so much! “Ha…” I gave a self-deprecating laugh and took Lily to the hospital. After her injuries began to heal, I asked in a daze, “Lily, if someday, Daddy and Mommy have to separate, who would you choose?” Lily, though clearly still in pain, gave me a sunny smile. “Lily loves Mommy very much, and she also loves Daddy.” “But if Daddy is mean to Mommy, Lily won’t want Daddy anymore!” My nose stung, and I pulled Lily into a tight hug. The decision in my heart solidified. The next second, I made a call. “Mr. Davis, please draft a divorce agreement for me.” “In three days, all of Thorne Corp.’s assets will be transferred to my name. Just go ahead and do it.”

I had done Alexander Thorne’s mother a great kindness. Back then, before Alexander and I were married, his mother felt deeply indebted to me. So she had Alexander sign an agreement with me. If Alexander ever wronged me, I could unilaterally divorce him and claim all assets under his name. Alexander didn’t think I was cheap and unworthy of his money? Fine, if he wanted to play dirty, then so would I! Once the agreement automatically took effect, I would still get the money for my mother’s surgery! A huge weight lifted from my shoulders. The entire next day, I was busy taking care of my mother and daughter. Alexander hadn’t sent a single message asking how we were. I saw on Serena’s Ins that Alexander had bought her another luxury car. He also bought her all the latest designer bags for the season. Each one was worth over $90,000. Alexander seemed to be trying to declare war on me this way. But I just smiled and even liked the post. That evening, Alexander returned home, his face dark. “Elara, are you trying to spite me?” “Serena and I are purely platonic. Your status as Mrs. Thorne won’t be shaken. Why do you always have to go after her and her son?” He had a four-year-old son, and he still dared to talk about being “platonic.” I sneered, and we argued for a few more minutes. “Tomorrow night is Serena’s birthday. You *must* come and apologize to her in person.” Finally, Alexander left those words and walked away. To avoid any trouble, the next day, I arrived on time. The moment I pushed open the villa doors, I was almost blinded by the golden extravagance everywhere. Serena stood in the center of the crowd, adored like a star, seated on a gleaming golden throne. A carpet woven from 999 golden roses spread at her feet. Alexander Thorne’s friends were all lavishing her with compliments. The moment I appeared, the atmosphere instantly froze. Alexander’s face was cold, and his eyes signaled for me to apologize. But I didn’t even bother to lift an eyelid, walking straight to a corner seat. Alexander’s face darkened, and he was about to say something, but Serena spoke first. “Mr. Thorne, it’s alright. It was just kids playing rough. If Elara doesn’t want to, then don’t force her.” “Serena, you’re always so understanding.” Alexander sighed, his voice filled with concern. Even though I had long been utterly disappointed in him, a wave of icy despair washed over me. When Alexander was just starting his business, money was tight. I never spent an extra dime. My clothes were faded from countless washes, and I reheated meals three times over. But all I got in return was him calling me “obsessed with money.” The party continued as usual. When it was time for the birthday tribute video, the lights suddenly dimmed. Then, the big screen lit up, and the painful moans of a woman filled the air! The next second, the video of *me* being humiliated was broadcast for everyone to see! “Holy hell, is that *her*?” “My god, Thorne is going to be utterly disgraced by her this time!” My face instantly went white. Fear surged like a tide, threatening to drown me! Alexander instinctively stood up, ordering someone to cut the video. He chided the guests’ whispering, but countless strange looks still fell upon me. My body trembled. I suddenly realized something and met Serena’s gaze. Sure enough, I saw a flicker of triumph in her eyes! It was her! “Serena!” Rage flared, and I slapped her hard. “Ah! Mrs. Thorne, why did you hit me?” The next second, I was violently shoved, crashing to the ground. The champagne tower shattered, sending shards of glass cutting into my skin. Alexander looked at my disheveled state, frowning in disgust. “Elara, this is *your* own mistake; what does it have to do with Serena!” “Because of you, I’ve been constantly criticized for years. What more do you want?” Back then, I was clearly dragged into it because of Alexander. At that time, he was heartbroken, but now, he was saying it was my own mistake! My heart felt ripped apart, and tears streamed from my eyes. “Alexander, how can you blame me? Back then, it was clearly—” I hadn’t finished speaking when my phone rang frantically. “Ms. Lin, it’s bad! Your mother’s condition has suddenly worsened rapidly; she needs surgery immediately!” I froze, my face instantly pale as paper. How could it happen so fast? The doctor had said there was still time… Thinking of my mother’s frail body, I ignored my pain and dignity, scrambling to Alexander’s feet. Crying out, I said, “Alexander, my mother really is sick, and she needs surgery now!” “Please, I’m begging you, lend me ninety thousand dollars!” Alexander Thorne frowned, staring intently at me. But the next second, a look of disappointment crossed his eyes, and he pushed me away. “Elara, at a time like this, you’re still lying just for money!” “You ruined Serena’s birthday party. If you can’t get her forgiveness, I won’t give you a single dime!” I stared, wide-eyed in disbelief, trying to show Alexander Thorne the call log and my mother’s medical records. But he turned his head away in disgust. Finally, resigned, I apologized to Serena. But she slowly, deliberately, said, “It’s not that I want to make things difficult for you, but you hit me without any reason. If you want my forgiveness…” “How about you let me slap you one hundred times?”

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To save me from end-stage kidney failure, Mom sold her wedding ring and became a food delivery driver, working days and nights. She always said, “Mia, you’re the only reason I’m alive.” For three years, since the diagnosis, I had been a vampire to my family, slowly draining the life from her. The day a typhoon hit, Mom had to go out again. I clutched her hand, pleading with her not to go. But her face hardened. “If I don’t risk my life for money, how do I buy yours?!” “In this house, being broke is scarier than any storm! If you want to live, then be quiet!” “You think a typhoon scares me? I’d walk through hell and back for you!” She pulled on her delivery jacket and vanished into the downpour. But Mom didn’t know, I didn’t want to live anymore. If I died, she wouldn’t have to struggle. I was a burden. Once that thought took root, it grew into a towering tree. I walked back to my room and locked the door. Sitting at my easel, I reached for the long-term catheter just below my collarbone. My hand trembled, not from fear, but from my body’s own primal resistance. All I could see was Mom’s exhausted face. I clenched my teeth, grabbed the catheter’s connector, and pulled. A searing pain tore through me. A choked cry escaped. Cold sweat drenched my back in an instant. Warm blood welled out, tracing a path down my collarbone, across my chest, and dripping onto the floor. I picked up a brush and loaded it with paint. I had to paint. One last piece. On the canvas, a figure in a raincoat rode an electric scooter, fighting through wind and rain. It was Mom. But I didn’t want to paint a gloomy typhoon day. I wanted to paint her a rainbow. I wanted her to ride on that rainbow, to all the faraway places I longed to go but couldn’t. More and more blood flowed, and the warmth drained from my body, bit by bit. It was so cold. My vision blurred, and the paintbrush in my hand felt impossibly heavy. “Mia?” A familiar voice brushed against my ear. I strained to turn my head. In the dim corner of the room stood a man. He wore faded work clothes, a hard hat held in his hands, and on his face was a kind, simple smile. It was Dad. Arthur. He looked just as he had three years ago when he left-not a day older. “Dad…” My lips parted. The word came out a whisper, thin as a mosquito’s hum. Tears and cold sweat mingled on my face. Dad used to lift me onto his shoulders so I could see the world. He’d spend his entire paycheck the day he got it, just to spoil me with candy. When I got sick, he buried himself in construction, working every grueling shift he could find. That last day, he took a high-altitude job for an extra thirty dollars-and slipped from the scaffolding. They found him still clutching the money he’d saved for my medicine. Dad walked over now and crouched beside me, his hand reaching to touch my head. “Mia, does it hurt?” “Finish that stroke. Then I’ll take you somewhere it won’t.” I looked at him, forcing a grotesque smile. “Dad, just a little longer.” “I have to finish Mom’s raincoat. Can’t let her get wet.” I looked back at the canvas. My wrist was too weak, so I used my whole arm to guide the brush. Yellow paint piled up on the canvas, but Mom’s face wasn’t painted yet. I couldn’t see clearly anymore. A blood-red fog enveloped my vision. The paintbrush slipped from my hand, rolling twice on the floor, stained with my blood. My body collapsed backward, uncontrollably. So tired, truly exhausted. For three years, every dialysis session dragged me to the edge of death. Now, it was over. No more dialysis. No more bitter pills. No more watching Mom haggle over cents at the market. Outside the window, a clap of thunder echoed, and lightning illuminated the cramped rental room. It also illuminated me, lying in a pool of blood. Mom, I’m sorry. I wasn’t a good daughter in this life. Next life, I won’t come. You live well for yourself. The moment my consciousness completely plunged into darkness, I felt my body lighten. I floated up, all the way to the ceiling. I looked down and saw myself. Skeletal, my face pale, blood pooling on the floor from my chest. I was dead. This floating feeling was strange, wondrous. But I didn’t want to leave yet. I needed to check on Mom. With such heavy rain, I hoped she wouldn’t fall.

The thought had barely formed when an invisible force pulled me out. Through walls, through the rain. The wind howled, and rain poured down like a waterfall. But I felt no cold, no wetness. I was beside Mom. The water here was already past her ankles. The street had turned into a murky river. Trees along the road swayed violently in the wind. Mom hunched over the handlebars of her second-hand scooter, the rain slicker clinging to her back. Her helmet visor was completely fogged. “Order approaching overtime. Deliver immediately.” A notification chimed from her phone. She swiped a glove across the visor. “What’s the damn hurry?!” A glance at the navigation. The destination was a luxury complex downtown. “This one… the delivery fee plus the storm surcharge… fifty-five dollars.” “Enough for two of Mia’s supplement shakes.” She muttered into the rain, her gaze fixed ahead, hard with determination. For those fifty-five dollars, she twisted the scooter’s throttle to its maximum speed. The navigation showed severe flooding on the main road ahead and suggested a detour. Mom stopped and saw the detour would add an extra three miles. It would definitely cause a delay, and a delay meant a penalty, or even her account being deactivated. Mom gritted her teeth, turned the handlebars, and veered into an old, narrow alleyway. It was a shortcut, but the road was terrible, full of potholes. “Mom! Don’t go there!” I floated above her, yelling. “That path has no lights! It’s all mud pits!” But she couldn’t hear me. The electric scooter struggled forward in the muddy water. Suddenly. A blinding beam of headlights shone directly at her. A car, driving against traffic, swerved sharply to avoid a fallen tree branch. It rushed straight towards Mom! “Look out!!” I shrieked, lunging forward, trying to push the car away. My hand passed right through the car’s hood, through the engine. Nothing could stop it. Mom reacted incredibly fast. She sharply tilted the scooter to the side, her arm clamped tightly around the food delivery box in her lap. Bang! She and the scooter tumbled heavily into a muddy ditch at the roadside. But her hands were still fiercely protecting the delivery box. She ran her fingers through her wet hair on her forehead. “As long as the delivery box is fine!” The car didn’t even stop, accelerating away. Splashing mud splattered all over Mom. “Mom!” I cried, kneeling beside her. Mom lay in the mud, motionless for a long time. My heart leaped into my throat. After several agonizing seconds, she moved. She painfully pushed herself up. In that moment, her face twisted in a grimace of pain. The fabric of her pants was torn at her right knee, skin peeled back, and bright red blood seeped out. It looked incredibly painful. But the first thing she did after scrambling up wasn’t to check her leg. She frantically opened the protected delivery box. The seafood porridge inside was perfectly intact, shielded by the foam container, not a single drop spilled. Mom let out a long breath. She sat in the mud, wiped her face, and even managed a faint, foolish smile. “Good, it didn’t spill.” “Fifty-five dollars saved.” In that moment, my heart was shredded. I wanted to slap that driver, I wanted to smash that cursed delivery box. I wanted to hold her, to tell her to stop. “Mom! I won’t eat anymore! I won’t get treated anymore!” “I’m already dead! You don’t need to earn this money!” “Look at your leg! It’s bleeding!” I screamed into her ear, crying myself hoarse. Mom seemed to sense something. She shivered, looking back at the empty space behind her. “Why does it feel like someone’s here…” She mumbled, struggling to lift her electric scooter. The handlebars were bent, the rearview mirror shattered. But it could still be ridden. She limped onto the scooter, pushing forward into the downpour, continuing her deliveries. Her back, so stubborn, made me want to cry. I floated right behind her. Watching her deliver the porridge to the villa’s doorstep. The villa’s owner, a woman, held her nose in disgust, taking the takeout. She didn’t even say thank you, instead complaining, “What took you so long? The bag’s all wet.” Mom just offered a placating smile. “I’m so sorry, the rain was really heavy. Enjoy your meal, and please leave a good review.” The door closed. Mom stood under the mansion’s eaves, sheltering from the rain for a while. She pulled out her phone and checked her balance. With this order, her earnings for the day topped three hundred dollars. Her eyes lit up. “Mia’s dialysis fee for next week is covered.” She patted the mud from her leg, then turned and plunged back into the rain, continuing her deliveries.

It was two in the morning. The rain had eased, turning into a gentle drizzle. The sensor light in the stairwell had been broken for ages, leaving it pitch black. Mom dragged her injured leg, inching her way up, step by painful step. With every step, she had to lean against the wall and catch her breath. That leg was already swollen like a balloon, blood and fabric stuck together. I floated ahead of her, watching her agony, my heart aching to the point of suffocation. Finally home, Mom glanced down at herself as she entered – covered in mud. She had been carefully protecting a plastic bag in her arms. She opened it and looked inside. It was a slightly wrinkled box, soaked from the rain. Written on it in English: “Winsor & Newton.” The brand of paint every art student dreamed of. It was expensive. That small box cost several hundred dollars. I had often gazed at it longingly through the art supply store window, but I’d never dared to mention it to Mom. She actually remembered. “Mia will be so happy now.” Mom grinned, mud caked even in the wrinkles around her eyes. She saw my door was closed, reached out to open it, then hesitated and pulled her hand back. “It’s so late, Mia must be asleep.” “If I go in, I’ll just wake her up. That girl’s a light sleeper; if she wakes up, she’ll just worry about me.” Mom sighed. She found a small stool in the corner and dragged it to my door, then sat down heavily. Hiss- Her wound burned. She gasped, sharp pain stealing her breath. From under the coffee table, she pulled a bottle of antiseptic, gritted her teeth, and poured it directly onto the raw flesh. I watched her tremble, her teeth biting into the back of her hand to silence any sound. My tears fell, one by one, onto her wounded leg. But the tears of a ghost, they have no warmth. After tending to her wound, Mom leaned against the doorframe. She hugged the paint box, pressed her ear to the door, listening for any movement inside. “Mia, are you asleep?” She whispered through the crack in the door, her voice as soft as water. “Mom was amazing today, darling. I was the top earner, made over four hundred bucks.” “With this box of paints, once you’re better, Mom will send you to New York.” “I heard there’s an artist there who teaches painting.” “Our Mia has such talent; you’ll definitely be a great painter someday.” “Then, Mom won’t deliver food anymore. I’ll be your model, and cook you pot roast every day.” She prattled on, her face glowing with a kind of happiness I’d never seen before. It was an anticipation of the future, an unwavering belief in her daughter’s survival. But she didn’t know that, just behind that door. I was already lying in a pool of blood. I reached out to touch her face. “Mom…” My hand passed through her cheek. “I’m so sorry. I can’t stay with you…” “Without me, you’ll live a good life…” “You won’t have to struggle anymore!” But Mom couldn’t hear me. She was exhausted. Even as she murmured, her eyelids grew heavy. She fell asleep right there-hugging the paint box, leaning against my bedroom door on that little stool. A faint smile still lingered on her lips. Maybe in her dream, she saw me go to college. Saw me healed. Saw us moving into a house full of light.

The rain had stopped. Morning sun streamed through the window, falling directly across Mom’s face. She jerked awake. Her first instinct was to check her phone for the time. “Oh no! Rush hour is starting!” She scrambled to her feet. The gash on her leg, after a night’s rest, had crusted into a dark scab. Every step sent a sharp, burning pain through her. She ignored it. Gently, she set the paint box down on the coffee table. Then she hurried into the kitchen and, with practiced ease, slid a poached egg into a bowl. It was her special brown sugar poached egg-my favorite, the one she always said would give me strength. She put the bowl on the table, then hesitated before knocking on my door. Her hand hovered in mid-air, then dropped. “Let her sleep a little longer,” Mom murmured to herself. She found a pen and paper, wrote a sticky note, and affixed it to my bedroom door. “Food’s on the table, eat it while it’s hot. Your paints are on the shoe rack, Mom bought them specially for you. Mom loves you.” Her handwriting was shaky, her hand still trembling. Before leaving, she sniffed the air. “Why is there a metallic scent?” She looked around suspiciously. Finally, her gaze fell on the wound on her leg. “Must be the wound. Smells awful.” She didn’t think much more of it, grabbed her helmet, and hurried out the door. Noon, the sun blazed overhead. Mom was out on a delivery when her phone rang. It was Carol from next door. “Carol, what’s up?” Mom held the phone between her shoulder and ear, still climbing stairs. On the other end, Carol’s voice, usually dripping with sarcasm, was now laced with pure panic. “Elara Reed! What is going on at your place?!” “Did something die in there? The stench is oozing out from under your door, flies everywhere! My grandson’s crying from the stench!” “You need to come home and deal with it! It’s disgusting!” Mom’s delivery fell to the ground, soup spilling everywhere. But she didn’t even notice, her mind a blank. Mia was still home! “Mia…” Mom raced downstairs like a madwoman. She hopped on her beat-up scooter, ignoring red lights, driving against traffic, speeding frantically through the flow of cars. The wind whipped her hair into a wild mess. Her face was ghost-white, her lips trembling, as she kept muttering. “It’s fine… it has to be fine…” “It’s just the drain pipe clogged…” “Mia’s sleeping… Mia’s painting…” I followed behind her, watching her narrowly avoid several crashes, finally arriving home safely. Carol was standing at the doorway, grumbling. Seeing Mom, she clutched her nose and backed away several steps. “Oh, you’re finally back. Hurry, open the door and see, this is just terrible!” Mom pushed through the main door. The smell was leaking from my room. Her hand shook as she pulled out the key, but when she jammed it into the lock, it wouldn’t turn. Desperate, Mom hurled the key to the floor and screamed. “Mia! Open the door! Don’t scare me! Please!” She threw her whole weight against it, shoving with all her strength. The door gave away. She stood frozen in the doorway, her pupils shrinking to pinpricks. There I was, curled in a pool of blood. Beside me lay an unfinished painting. In it, Mom was wearing a yellow raincoat, riding her scooter across a rainbow.

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