The auctioneer’s gavel had just fallen when my husband’s beloved, Scarlett Hayes, lunged at me, tears streaming down her face. “Avery! That bracelet can save my dad’s life! Our spiritual advisor said it’s the only thing that can protect our family! Please, please just give it to me!” I yanked my hand away, a cold sneer twisting my lips. “Your dad is seriously ill, and you’re here begging me for an antique I just bought instead of finding a doctor? That’s absurd!” That very evening, Damien Lockwood burst through the door, his face contorted with rage. “Scarlett’s father died! All because you wouldn’t give her that bracelet! That was a human life!” I scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping me. “And how is that my problem? Did I somehow *kill* him?” For that single sentence, he drugged me. The next thing I knew, I woke up on a remote island in the Pacific. A global live-stream lit up the screen – Damien Lockwood, CEO of Lockwood Corp., personally confirming: his wife, Avery Lockwood, suffered from severe paranoid delusions and required isolated treatment. The live chat exploded: “That witch deserves it!” “Crazy people should just die!” The hashtag #MrsLockwoodIsInsane was trending high. On camera, I was “helplessly” curled up. Off camera, my finger pressed a hidden signal transmitter. *Quinn, do it.* Damien, your business empire is about to crumble! 0

My eyelids felt heavy as I forced them open a crack. The blinding white light instantly pierced my pupils, triggering involuntary tears. My blurry vision hadn’t yet focused when a massive, suspended screen on the opposite wall jolted into view. The screen was covered with dense, rapidly scrolling text: **[The witch is awake! Look at her eyes! Definitely insane!]** **[Crazy woman, go take your meds! Don’t pollute the screen!]** **[The murderer who killed Miss Hayes’s father still has the nerve to live? Pay with your life!]** **[Mr. Lockwood got the absolute worst luck marrying this madwoman!]** **[#MrsLockwoodIsInsane is trending #1! Universal celebration!]** Every word felt like a sharp sword plunging into my brain. My mind buzzed. Where was I? Were these vicious words directed at me? Fragments of memory, accompanied by a surge of fury, suddenly flooded my mind: At the auction house entrance, Scarlett Hayes’s pathetic, tear-streaked face had lunged at me, clutching my sleeve tightly: “Avery! Please! Our spiritual advisor said only this bracelet can protect our family and bring peace to my father’s soul! Will you please let me have it? I’m begging you!” Her act was so sincere, as if my refusal would make me a cold-blooded murderer. Now, amidst the hateful comments, it seemed utterly ironic. I pulled away from her, my voice calm and cold. “Scarlett, your father is gravely ill. Instead of finding a doctor or staying by his bedside, you’re here begging me to ‘give’ you a three-million-dollar antique? That logic is laughably absurd!” Her face had instantly paled, but I caught the flash of venom in her eyes. It was so clear now. My refusal had infuriated Damien, touching his beloved Scarlett, who apparently couldn’t tolerate even the slightest discomfort. My memories were suddenly cut short. The heavy iron door swung open with a resounding *clank*. The pungent smell of disinfectant instantly flooded my nostrils. A woman in a crisp, starched white lab coat, wearing rimless glasses, and with an indifferent expression, walked in. This was Dr. Anya Petrova, Damien’s personal physician. Behind her followed two burly, expressionless orderlies. “Mrs. Lockwood, you’re awake.” Dr. Petrova’s voice was flat and emotionless, the cold needle in her hand glinting ominously. “Your emotions seem very unstable, which is not good for your ‘treatment’. Please cooperate with the sedative injection.” “Treatment?” My voice was hoarse, laced with unbelievable anger. “What disease do I have? Tell Damien to get out here! How dare he do this to me, all for Scarlett Hayes?!” It was exactly as I’d suspected. Damien had sent me to this hellhole just to appease Scarlett. Damien’s favoritism wasn’t new, yet he was my husband! Scarlett had “accidentally” spilled scalding coffee on my new limited-edition handbag. Just as I was about to scold her, Damien had cut in, frowning, “It’s just a bag, Scarlett didn’t mean it. Don’t make such a big deal out of it.” For our meticulously planned wedding anniversary candlelit dinner, he’d abruptly left because of a phone call from Scarlett claiming she was “feeling down,” his excuse being, “It’s not safe for a woman to be out alone at night.” At a crucial charity gala for the Lockwood family, he openly brought Scarlett, letting her stand by his side as his “assistant,” soaking in everyone’s attention, while I, his legitimate wife, felt like an outsider. Not to mention the countless expensive gifts, the late-night ‘heart-to-heart’ calls, and the way his eyes always held a touch more warmth when he looked at Scarlett than when he looked at me… Now, just because I refused Scarlett’s illogical, almost outright robbery-like demand once, Damien could twist the narrative, slap the ‘crazy’ label on me, and discard me like trash on this isolated island prison in the Pacific! He even used a global live-stream to humiliate and destroy me! “I’m not sick!” I screamed at Dr. Petrova, but it was more like roaring at the devil manipulating all this from behind the screen. “It’s Damien! It’s Scarlett! They’re the crazy ones! They’re insane!” The massive screen was right in front of me, the vicious comments still scrolling frantically. Every line felt like Damien and Scarlett mocking me through the mouths of thousands. Dr. Petrova’s eyes held only cold indifference. She gestured to the orderlies. Hands like steel vises once again pinned my powerless body. The cold alcohol swab rubbed against my skin, sending a shiver through me. “Mrs. Lockwood, please be quiet. Your delusions are worsening.” Dr. Petrova’s voice was a flat pronouncement. The needle pierced my skin, and the chilling liquid flowed in. Numbness spread rapidly, and my consciousness began to sink. Before I was completely swallowed by darkness, the huge screen and the scrolling hate comments morphed into Damien’s tender profile, wiping away Scarlett’s tears. I imagined Scarlett nestled in Damien’s arms, wearing my jade bracelet on her wrist. In the end, I was left with only one thought: *Damien and Scarlett, that twisted, despicable pair, won’t get away with this!* 0

I don’t know how much time passed before the suffocating effects of the drug slowly receded like a tide. I opened my eyes again. The massive screen on the opposite wall was still lit, though the comments seemed to scroll a bit slower. Still, those hateful words – “witch,” “insane,” “pay with your life” – appeared more and more frequently. “Ugh…” A dry, cracked throat made me groan. I struggled to sit up, but my limbs felt heavy and unresponsive. The drug hadn’t fully worn off. I painstakingly managed to stand. Just then, the iron door creaked open again. Dr. Petrova’s poker face reappeared, but this time she held a tablet, not a syringe. “Mrs. Lockwood, how are you feeling?” Her voice was still devoid of emotion, but her eyes held a hint of scrutiny. “Mr. Lockwood is very concerned about your condition. He’s arranged a video call.” She turned the tablet screen towards me. The screen lit up, and Damien’s handsome yet cold face appeared on the display. And leaning on his shoulder, almost filling half the screen, was Scarlett! Her eyes were slightly red, as if she’d just been crying, making her appear fragile and pitiable. But my gaze was instantly fixed on her raised wrist. My exquisite, luminous jade bracelet – a family heirloom from the early 20th century, with its perfect translucency and vibrant green hue – was resting firmly on Scarlett’s slender wrist! That was my mother’s family’s property! I had paid three million dollars for it, legitimately winning it at auction! Now, it was like a war trophy, ostentatiously worn by the woman who had framed me! A surge of blood rushed to my head, threatening to burst through my skull! “Avery,” Damien’s voice came through the cold electronic device, laced with fake concern and undeniable reproach. “I’m relieved to see you’ve ‘calmed down’. Scarlett made a special trip to see me today. She’s very worried about you, even though… you treated her that way.” He turned his head, gazing tenderly at Scarlett leaning on his shoulder, with a softness I had never received. Scarlett, at the opportune moment, raised the hand wearing the bracelet, wiping away non-existent tears, her voice choked. “Damien, don’t talk about Avery like that. She didn’t mean it, really. It’s just, just that my father…” She started to speak, then stopped herself, subtly throwing out the implication of her “father’s death” again, successfully igniting a deeper resentment and disgust towards me in Damien’s eyes. “See? Scarlett is still defending you!” Damien turned to the screen, his tone suddenly stern. “Avery, you stay here and ‘reflect’ properly, cooperate with Dr. Petrova’s treatment! Think about what you’ve done! We’ll talk about anything else only when you truly realize your mistakes and stop your paranoid delusions against others!” His gaze swept over my pale, haggard face. There was no trace of pity, only impatience. The screen went dark. Dr. Petrova took back the tablet, and a tiny, almost imperceptible sneer tugged at the corner of her mouth again. “Mrs. Lockwood, you heard Mr. Lockwood. For your ‘recovery,’ please maintain emotional stability.” She turned and left with the orderlies, the iron door once again closing heavily. The giant screen remained lit, scrolling with new comments: **[Wow! That was Mr. Lockwood and Miss Hayes! They look so good together!]** **[Miss Hayes is so kind, even speaking up for that crazy woman!]** **[Seeing that madwoman look so pathetic makes me feel relieved! She deserves it!]** **[Her hands are empty. She really doesn’t deserve to wear that bracelet! Miss Hayes looks so much better wearing it!]** My empty stomach clenched, making me feel nauseous. It wasn’t hunger. It was the overwhelming tide of malice, Damien’s blatant favoritism, and Scarlett wearing *my* bracelet, nestled in my husband’s arms, soaking in the world’s sympathy and praise. While I was trapped on this isolated island, branded as insane! Rage, humiliation, and hatred filled my mind like a burning flame, threatening to consume me entirely! With difficulty, I moved my numb fingers, inch by inch, exploring deep into my hair. My fingertip brushed against an incredibly tiny, hard bump. I pressed hard with my finger, activating the switch on the miniature signal transmitter. 0

Dr. Petrova brought me lunch, but it was just a sticky, foul-smelling gruel. I refused to eat it. This clearly angered Damien. Soon, a new “treatment” began. It wasn’t just sedatives anymore. The medication Dr. Petrova injected no longer brought drowsiness, but intense headaches, severe stomach cramps, and uncontrollable nausea. The orderlies’ movements grew rougher too. Each injection or “examination” felt like torture, leaving large patches of ugly bruises. “Mrs. Lockwood, Mr. Lockwood hopes you can ‘recognize reality’ and ‘sincerely apologize’ to Miss Hayes.” Dr. Petrova said flatly after an injection, though her eyes seemed to hold a fleeting, imperceptible hint of something complex. “Your ‘delusions’ and ‘aggressiveness’ are very detrimental to your recovery.” “Dream on!” “I, Avery Reed, will die here before I bow down to that pathetic woman and her pathetic lapdog!” My defiance seemed to enrage Damien. The torment escalated. The unidentified drugs were injected more frequently, in larger doses. My consciousness often teetered on the edge of extreme pain and oblivion. Vomiting became a daily occurrence. Even when my stomach was empty, I could only retch bitter bile. On the huge screen, the malice in the comments also escalated with my “misery,” filled with words like “serves her right” and “good riddance.” That afternoon, after another injection, a sharp abdominal pain seized me. Cold sweat drenched my entire body. I curled up on the cold floor, barely able to breathe. The comments instantly flooded with mockery: **[She moved! Starting to go crazy?]** **[Sign of a mental breakdown? Grab your popcorn!]** **[Who is she putting on a show for? Does she think anyone pities her?]** Just then, a warm gush, without warning, surged from between my legs! My body stiffened. I looked down in disbelief. A small, striking patch of dark red had spread across my light-colored pants! Blood?! My mind went blank. My period? No, the timing was completely off! And this feeling was entirely different from usual! The comments clearly caught my abnormality and my action of looking down, immediately exploding: **[WTF! What’s wrong with her pants? What’s that red stuff?]** **[Could she be on her period? How disgusting! Polluting the camera!]** **[What does a crazy person care about periods? Maybe she self-harmed!]** **[Tsk tsk, so dirty! Mr. Lockwood, divorce her already!]** Panic instantly seized me! This wasn’t right! Something was terribly wrong! The bleeding from my lower body, coupled with a constant, heavy ache in my lower abdomen, instinctively filled me with immense unease. “Blood… I’m bleeding! Dr. Petrova, help me!” I ignored the humiliation, my voice trembling uncontrollably with fear, as I called for Dr. Petrova. “I don’t know what’s happening! My stomach hurts so bad! I need a doctor! A real doctor! I need to go to a hospital!” Dr. Petrova, who had rushed over, also froze. She saw the rapidly expanding dark red bloodstain, and for the first time, her brows genuinely furrowed. She quickly walked over, knelt down, and swiftly examined me with gloved fingers. Her face instantly turned grim. She motioned for the orderlies to step back, then stood up and walked to the room’s corner, to the communicator connecting to the outside world, pressing the call button. Her voice was barely a whisper, but in the silent cell, it was still clearly audible: “Mr. Lockwood, Avery’s condition is not good! She—she’s experiencing heavy bleeding from her lower body!” “This exceeds the expected scope of ‘treatment’. I recommend immediately stopping the current medication regimen and conducting a detailed examination, or sending her to the hospital! Any longer, and her life may be in danger!”

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My fiancé’s new intern actually suggested serving chips and soda to the CEO of a multi-million dollar company’s wedding guests. Could you believe it? And the whole company, mind you, cheered for it. They called it “innovative and cute,” “so creative.” I instantly shot it down, only to be mocked as “old-fashioned” and “out of touch with young people.” To protect our reputation, I secretly swapped back to the high-end menu. The wedding, in the end, was a smashing success. But the very next day, the intern went live on TikTok, crying and accusing me of “workplace bullying” and “stealing her credit.” And my fiancé, Alexander, didn’t say a word, tacitly agreeing with every single one of her accusations. Clients cancelled contracts, partnerships ended, our company’s reputation was dragged through the mud. Employees, jobless and furious, unleashed all their anger on me. I was beaten black and blue, subjected to a brutal online hate mob. My parents collapsed from stress and were hospitalized, and I ultimately drowned, my heart overflowing with bitter hatred. Reborn into this life, I’ve learned my lesson. No stopping them, no advising them, no saving them. A ridiculous “snack banquet”? I’ll make sure it crashes and burns, spectacularly. It’ll be an absolute nightmare. I sat in my familiar office. The intern’s proposal, signed by my fiancé, lay quietly on my desk. I coldly sneered and sold off all my shares. “This time,” I muttered, “I’m just here to watch the show unfold.” 0

It was only early autumn, but the lake water was already ice-cold, biting. I felt my lungs squeeze, the last bit of air forced out of my body. I drowned three days after that wedding. Bruised and battered, with claw marks from my ‘colleagues’ still stinging my face. The laid-off employees, furious and jobless, screamed that I deserved it, that I’d brought it all upon myself. The mob beating, the online hate, the contract cancellations, the shredded agreements – all because of one phrase: “I won’t approve the snack banquet.” Chloe cried a river of fake tears, claiming I bullied her, stole her brilliant idea. Alexander watched me surrounded, trapped, and didn’t utter a single word. My soul floated above, watching, as my father burst from his hospital room, his arm still connected to an IV drip, pulling my mother down to their knees to beg Alexander for one more chance for me. I died so quietly, yet I became the top trending topic: **[B*tch Finally Gets What She Deserves, Good Riddance]** Then, I opened my eyes again. I was sitting in the familiar conference room. The intern, Chloe, was in the corner, suddenly speaking. Her eyes sparkled, her voice cloyingly sweet: “All those fancy dishes are so old-fashioned! Who still eats dry roast beef, rubbery lobster, and boring champagne at a wedding?” “How about we switch to fried chicken, chips, and soda instead? It’s more down-to-earth, and it looks young and vibrant!” The conference room fell silent. The next second, laughter erupted. “Hahaha, how novel!” “You know, young people really prefer this stuff.” “That’s hilarious, I’m all for it!” The sensation of the lake water choking me was still so vivid. I clutched my chest, gulping down the long-lost air. I turned my head. Alexander and the various shareholders were all looking at me impatiently. Everything was exactly as it had happened in my memories. I… I was reborn? Gently closing my folder, I quickly accepted this gift of fate, smiling faintly: “I actually think soda with fried chicken could create quite the vibe.” Chloe nodded, beaming: “See? That’s what I’m saying! Who eats fancy stuff anymore? It’s so greasy~” She was wearing a frilly, sweet-looking dress, like the mean girl from a high school drama. I remembered her from my past life, too. She’d pop up softly, a knife in her hand, plastered with pink stickers, but it would stab you right where it hurt most. Alexander leaned back in his chair, lazily, his gaze full of doting affection for her: “Sounds interesting. The client said they wanted something ‘unique,’ right? This definitely fits the bill.” A chaotic circus of approval erupted as the group laughed and applauded. I lowered my eyes, then nodded: “We can give it a try.” As soon as I said that, the entire room seemed to relax, as if they’d been waiting for me to start a fight. Too bad. I wasn’t taking the bait this time. “Then I’ll re-arrange the schedule. I’ll also coordinate with the audio and presentation teams.” I said, gathering the documents on my desk. No one thought anything was unusual about me. They thought I had given up. Only I knew that what I needed to do now wasn’t to argue, but to plant the bombs. This planning company was founded by Alexander and me. I poured nearly all my savings into it, even my parents’ retirement fund. In the early days, to secure investments, I’d entertained clients until I was hospitalized multiple times. Alexander and I crammed into a tiny studio, working from dawn till dusk, never daring to slack off. In my previous life, worried about all our hard work going to waste, I had changed the menu before the wedding, ensuring its smooth execution. But I never imagined I’d die with a tainted reputation, and that my parents would fall ill because of me. This time, I wouldn’t stop them. Let them fill a high-society wedding, attended by the nation’s most prominent figures, with their bubble tea, fried chicken, and chips. Let them crash and burn, be humiliated, and perish. Caldwell Enterprises, that massive client, I’ll devour all by myself. I will settle every single score. 0

I locked my office door and dialed a long-uncalled number. “Victoria, I’m in. I’m joining your team.” “I need you to assemble a full-service, high-end banquet team within three days.” “Don’t ask why. I’ll explain the specifics when we meet. Just follow the proposal I’ve sent for now.” There was a few seconds of silence on the other end, then a cheerful agreement. “We’ve been waiting a long time to hear that from you.” This team was connected through my university senior, Victoria. She had already moved half her business to a high-end wedding planning firm abroad. They had invited me to join them several times, but in my previous life, for the sake of “partner balance” with Alexander and our company, I had painfully declined. This life, I wouldn’t give way. I wasn’t just here to save this one wedding; I was paving my own path. Alexander could be a partner, but I could also dismantle this mess and rebuild a new “Scarlett Events” without him. I instructed Victoria to sign contracts under a new name, directly with the hotel channels. At the same time, I quietly established my new company: legal registration, entity formation, and process approvals – all done in one swift motion. With my second chance at life, I was launching my second venture. I deliberately stayed late at the office, working overtime until everyone else had left. I returned alone to the projector control room, locked the door, and turned off the lights. In the glow of the screen, I pulled a specially designed USB drive from my bag— This USB could subtly switch signal channels and control playback content without detection. In my previous life, they’d used this exact setup to play a “Thank You Team” video that was, on the surface, glamorous, but secretly contained Chloe’s self-serving “innovation speech.” This time, I would make her personally tear off her masked face. I turned on the sound testing equipment, connecting the USB while simultaneously activating my voice recorder. Over the next few days, I would prepare a clear, complete gift for Alexander and Chloe. 0

The next morning, I arrived at work as usual. Chloe was even earlier than me, humming a tune as she arranged flowers. She saw me and deliberately sidled over, her eyes glistening, as if plucking up courage to speak: “Scarlett, you finally didn’t argue with me yesterday. It’s the first time you’ve acknowledged me, and I’m so happy.” Listening to her syrupy pretense of being wronged, ignoring the looks from those around us, I smiled too and nodded: “Yes, your proposal this time… it really is quite novel.” She blinked, inching closer, pushing her luck: “So, can I take over the schedule and logistics? Even Alex praised how clever I am, I’ll learn quickly.” “Of course,” I replied calmly. “You can handle the front-of-house flow. I’ll oversee the audio and back-end production.” She froze for a second, as if she couldn’t believe I was being so agreeable this time. Afraid I’d change my mind, she nodded vigorously: “Okay! I promise I won’t disappoint you!” She really thought I had given up. I watched her skip, without knocking, straight into Alexander’s office to deliver her good news. The frosted glass dimly showed their embracing silhouettes. Later, I walked past the office and heard voices drifting from the crack in the door. “Alex, why is she so easy to deal with now? Does she know she’s about to be sidelined?” Chloe’s sickly sweet voice murmured. Alexander chuckled softly: “She doesn’t know how to adapt. She’ll dig her own grave eventually.” “Tell me… can we take over all the upcoming projects too?” “Once this wedding is over, her reputation in this industry will be ruined. People like her are too much of a nuisance. It’s best to get rid of her early so there are no future worries.” Excellent. I pushed the door open, smiling: “There you are, I was just looking for you two.” Chloe startled, quickly jumped off Alexander’s lap, feigning composure, and straightening her clothes: “Scarlett, don’t misunderstand, Alex and I, we were just discussing the front-of-house floral arrangements~” “Scarlett, don’t be dramatic. We’re just working.” My gaze deliberately lingered between them. Under their tense stares, I simply nodded faintly: “Don’t overwork yourselves. Remember to go through the full rehearsal tonight, so there are no mistakes on the day.” She saw that I wasn’t reacting according to her script, leaving her pre-prepared act useless. Her smile became forced. I turned and left, the tiny camera clipped to my collar flashing a red light. I knew this was just the beginning. I wouldn’t rush my move. I would let them dig their own graves, one by one, and jump right in. I just needed to play one sound clip, flash one piece of paper, at the very end. And I could bury them, leaving not even their bones behind. This wedding would be their public execution. But I underestimated their viciousness. 0

**[Scarlett, could you please come down to the basement storage? This prop seems to be having an issue.]** I looked out the window at the darkening sky. I left a message for my team, but still headed to the company’s basement storage as per Chloe’s text. On the way, I noticed everyone’s eyes subtly falling on me. My heart stirred with suspicion, but I had no idea what trick Chloe was up to, so I decided to proceed cautiously. The elevator doors opened, revealing the usually lit basement storage in complete darkness. I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. I instinctively recoiled, not stepping out of the elevator. Instead, I frantically pressed the close-door button, wanting to go back upstairs. “Scarlett’s running! Grab her!” Chloe’s sharp voice echoed from the warehouse, making it sound even more sinister. Through the crack in the still-open elevator doors, I saw several burly men in black suits emerge from the darkness. The cold, white elevator light made them look even more menacing. Their arms looked like they could knock out eight of me with a single punch. “Press the elevator door, you idiots!” Chloe shouted into a walkie-talkie at the men from the warehouse entrance. My hands trembled as I frantically pressed the close button, but the elevator doors were maddeningly slow. Finally, the moment the doors fully closed, I watched the figures trapped outside. My heart, which had been pounding in my throat, slowly settled, filled with the relief of a narrow escape. The elevator opened again, back into the bright company floor, but my wildly thumping heart still hadn’t calmed down. I looked at the crowd waiting by the elevator, suddenly recalling Chloe’s sinister smile just before the doors completely shut. “What do you want?” My back pressed against the elevator wall, I forced myself to speak in a cold voice. They said nothing, but slowly advanced on me. “Scarlett, I know you’re still unhappy with me.” “I overheard you telling Alex you wanted to sabotage this plan. But everyone has approved it, I can’t let all our hard work, and the company’s investment, go to waste just because of you.” “So, to stop you from causing trouble, you’ll just have to be inconvenienced and stay in the company storage for a while.” My eyes widened. I could barely believe what I was hearing: “I never once objected! I never even talked to Alex!” Meeting my gaze, Alexander looked away, but then said in a deep voice: “Even now, you’re still putting on an act!” Seeing this, all the shareholders and employees instantly lost their initial reluctance and hesitation, casting strange looks at me. Chloe immediately teared up: “Scarlett must be mad that I gained everyone’s approval. It’s okay. For the company, let her yell at me.” “But the bigger picture is important. How can we treat a company project like a joke…?” “Scarlett, why are you so petty? You need to have a broader mindset in business, don’t always target people. It’s ridiculous.” “Yeah, I genuinely think Chloe’s plan is pretty innovative.” “Besides, our company is a true leader in the industry. We should be pioneers, break new ground! If we don’t dare to, are we supposed to let smaller companies take the lead?” “Exactly. For safety, I think we really can’t let Scarlett go. What if something goes wrong? If the company loses money, I’d have to kill myself!” As they piled on the accusations, Alexander tenderly wiped away Chloe’s tears, then slammed down the gavel, as if pronouncing my death sentence: “Then take her phone and lock her in the basement storage.” A chilling dread spread through me. My blood ran cold, and I couldn’t stop trembling. I slowly crouched down, covering my ears with my hands. There was a ringing in my ears. Not the sound of a broken light, but that high-pitched whistle from my memories. When I was five, I was kidnapped and held in a place just like this. No lights, no sounds, no people. I almost went insane then. Though I made it home alive, I’ve suffered from severe claustrophobia ever since. With light and a window, I can manage for a while. But in a truly enclosed space, after just ten minutes, I’ll completely break down. Alexander knew about this. He had held me then, his face full of heartache, promising me over and over that he would never leave me alone in a place like that again, not in this lifetime. “No,” I said, looking desperately at Alexander, who was coldly watching from the crowd. “Alexander, how can you lock me in the storage room? I promise I won’t do anything. Don’t lock me in…” I was dragged inside by several grown men, my fingers gripping the doorframe tightly. The unfiled edges tore at my flesh, drawing blood, but I refused to let go. In my terror, I abandoned my dignity, begging pitifully: “Alexander, I can’t be locked in the storage room. I’ll die, I really will die…” Some colleagues, seeing my horrific state, felt a pang of pity: “Alex, if it’s really necessary, just have a few people watch her. Don’t lock her in.” Alexander’s expression softened, perhaps remembering my claustrophobia, and he was about to give in, but the next second, a soft arm wrapped around his. Chloe looked up at Alexander, gently shaking his arm, pouting: “If we just have people watching, she’ll have too much freedom to move. What if she runs away?” “Besides, we’re just restricting her movement, it’s not like we’re not giving her food. What could possibly happen? She’s reacting so violently, she must have some plan she’s trying to sabotage, right? Can we really just let her walk away now?!” “No, Alexander, you know I have claustrophobia…” My face was ashen as I tried to defend myself. “Oh, come on, Scarlett. You’ve read too many novels. There’s a limit to making up stories.” “This basement has lights, it’s not even dark, what are you afraid of?” “Besides, you should face your fears directly, it helps with desensitization. I’m doing this for your own good. Why are you so unwilling to go in? Is it because you’re planning to ruin the wedding we worked so hard on?” At that, everyone fell silent. Alexander himself pried my fingers off, one by one, and shoved me inside.

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I had just returned from a specialized fellowship abroad, stepping out of the operating room after successfully completing a complex organ transplant. The air still buzzed with the aftermath of intense focus. But then, Dr. Chloe Davis, my husband’s intern, blocked the hallway. She looked smug, arrogant, and stopped me dead in my tracks. Her voice, sharp and loud enough for everyone to hear, sliced through the quiet. “Who gave you permission to use Operating Room 3? Effective immediately, you’re suspended!” I froze for a split second, then a smirk touched my lips. “Oh? And who, exactly, gave *you* that authority?” She scoffed, a cold, harsh sound. Right in front of me, she snatched the departmental schedule from the nurses’ station and ripped it in half with a dramatic flourish. “The Director did,” she spat, tossing the shreds onto the floor. I nodded slowly, pulling out my phone. I immediately shot a text to Patient 001’s private contact. “Apologies, my surgical privileges have been revoked. It seems I won’t be able to perform your wife’s tumor surgery.”

I instantly opened my husband, Dr. Brandon Miller’s, SnapChat. “Brandon Miller, get to the hospital. Chloe Davis is trying to suspend me.” Chloe glanced at me, then burst into a shrill, mocking laugh. She grabbed the surgical plan I’d just laid down and, with a vicious tear, ripped it in two. My eyes narrowed, watching her arrogant display. That plan was for the mayor’s pre-op tomorrow. Brandon himself had emphasized its critical importance. What truly baffled me was the reaction of the surrounding medical staff. Not only did no one intervene, but someone even eagerly offered her a paper shredder. My brow furrowed. Had I been away from the hospital for so long that Brandon’s strict protocols had become utterly meaningless? No way. I knew him. He never compromised on patient safety. Chloe savored my expression, a sneer on her face, and triumphantly scattered the shredded paper onto my face. “What’s wrong, Dr. Hayes? Surprised?” She sank into a nearby chair, idly playing with her manicured nails. “Your era is over,” she declared, her voice booming. “Brandon said that effective today, the VIP wing is entirely under my command. As for you, you’re relegated to night shift nurse duty.” The head nurse standing nearby immediately chimed in. “Exactly! Dr. Davis is a specially approved international talent, brought in by the Director himself!” “Some people occupy a Head of Department position for two years without doing any real work. How dare she show her face back here?” It was clear. In the past two years, this hospital had lost its way. I snatched a patient file she was about to pull away. “Chloe Davis, listen up. I am Brandon Miller’s legal wife, and a lifetime honorary professor at this hospital!” “Professor?” She burst out laughing, turning to the bewildered crowd. “Do you know how she got that professor title?” She roughly tore down my specialist profile photo from the hallway display. “A glorified trophy wife who got her title by clinging to her Director husband? She thinks she can pull rank on me?!” Chloe straightened her spine proudly. “I, on the other hand, am a Harvard Medical School Ph.D. personally mentored by Brandon! He used a special talent fund, dropped millions to poach me as a cardiothoracic specialist!” Suddenly, she grabbed the instrument cart a nurse was pushing, sweeping my dedicated surgical instruments to the floor with a loud clang. “Now, get on your knees and pick these up.” “Are you insane?” I stared at the scattered precision instruments for heart surgery. “These are sterile…” “Kneel! And! Pick!” She enunciated each word, her eyes gleaming with contempt and malice. The people around us suddenly erupted. “Kneel already! Why act so high and mighty?!” “Does she really think she’s still the legendary heart surgeon? Dr. Davis has been carrying this department for the past two years!” I clenched my fists, my nails digging deep into my skin. “For the past five years, 87% of all heart transplant surgeries in this hospital were performed by me. That’s verifiable data.” “Without those successful cases, this hospital would never have been accredited as a National Center of Excellence, let alone acquired the latest medical equipment.” A young doctor I had personally mentored stepped forward. A warmth spread through me. Someone still remembered. But the next second, he brutally stomped on my stethoscope, crushing it. “Professor Hayes, don’t push your luck!” “Dr. Davis is being merciful by telling you to kneel!” “Exactly! Kneel! Now!” The shouts around me grew louder and louder. Just then, the fire exit door burst open. I saw Brandon Miller’s figure, and a tiny sigh of relief escaped me. He arrived faster than I expected. Amid Chloe’s triumphant smirk, I looked at Brandon and said, “Brandon, Chloe said…”

*SMACK.* A brutal slap across my face. The force sent me crashing into the test tubes behind me. Glass shattered, scattering across the floor. I clutched my stinging cheek, looking up at Brandon’s hand, still suspended in mid-air, a look of utter disbelief on my face. “Amelia Hayes! Who gave you the audacity to treat Chloe like that?!” He snatched my ID badge and threw it to the ground. “She’s the Chief of Cardiothoracic Surgery whom I spent a fortune to poach from the Mayo Clinic! She’s the medical expert I cultivated with five years of painstaking effort! What right do you have to defy her?!” “It’s just an operating room, isn’t it? If Chloe says you can’t use it, you can’t. Now, get on your knees and apologize to her immediately!” Brandon’s face, contorted in rage, suddenly felt incredibly alien to me. Wait, what did he say? Mayo Clinic? I looked closely at Chloe Davis, and a realization hit me. Wasn’t she that nurse who sold counterfeit drugs five years ago and was jailed for six months? How did someone with barely a middle school education become my peer, let alone a chief of surgery? Brandon suddenly turned, his voice soft with concern as he spoke to Chloe. “Why aren’t you wearing the gloves I got for you? These spilled instruments will get on you.” “And next time, if you want to suspend someone, don’t get all worked up yourself. Don’t let it happen again.” Chloe immediately took off her mask, letting out a few fake tears. “Brandon, maybe I should just resign. With Dr. Hayes like this, how can I possibly lead the heart transplant surgeries?” Brandon’s voice instantly shifted back to a furious roar directed at me. “Apologize to Dr. Davis right now! If you dare to obstruct her work again, you’ll be transferred to laundry duty in the maintenance department!” The surrounding area fell silent. The watching medical staff immediately began whispering. “Dr. Davis is the Director’s pet!” “Exactly, she’s a genuinely talented, highly educated expert!” “Unlike some people who have no real skills, only relying on being the Director’s wife.” “Shameless!” I stared at Brandon Miller, the man who once swore he’d always support and love me unconditionally, now publicly humiliating me. But he still wasn’t done. He pointed at me. “Effective today, you’re demoted to a physician’s assistant. You’ll do rounds at 5 AM every day, and handle all departmental night shifts, patient records, and autopsy reports.” “Once you’ve reflected enough and learned how to be an assistant, then we’ll talk.” He grabbed the white coat Chloe had just taken off and tossed it at me. “Now, handwash Dr. Davis’s scrubs!”

*Ha.* I burst out laughing, a hollow sound. My mind flashed through countless nights of collapsing in exhaustion at the operating table. The bloodshot eyes from perfecting my techniques, the thousands of papers I’d devoured to push the limits of surgery… All just to ensure every operation was safe, to make Harmony Medical Center’s stellar reputation shine even brighter. I practically lived in the on-call room and the library, sacrificing countless moments we could have shared. Even starting a family was constantly postponed because he always said: “Amelia, our hospital’s development has just begun.” And now? Now, after I’d just completed the nation’s first transcatheter mitral valve repair, anticipating an embrace from him, I walked in on him holding hands with the intern he was supposed to be mentoring. I watched Chloe lean against his white coat, her face streaked with tears that couldn’t hide a triumphant smile. I watched Brandon look down at her with a tenderness and indulgence he had *never* shown me. This relationship, it should have ended a long time ago. I took off my stethoscope and tossed it onto the desk. “Let’s get a divorce.” Brandon remained utterly calm, not even a blink. He pulled two documents from his desk. The first, a ‘Research Project Lead Change Request,’ had my name neatly crossed out. The second, a ‘Physician Practice Location Change Consent Form,’ was already signed with his full name. “Sign it,” he said, slapping the papers onto the desk. “Once you sign, go to medical administration and transfer Patient 001’s tumor surgery team to Chloe.” “Why should I?!” “I spent a month preparing this surgical plan, staying up night after night.” “Yours?” He suddenly laughed, his hand pointing sharply at the ‘Hospital Management Regulations’ posted on the wall. “Amelia Hayes, please open your eyes and read the hospital bylaws clearly. All medical teams and research outcomes belong to the hospital’s legal representative. Participating physicians only retain the right to be credited.” My eyes widened in shock. I stared, utterly fixated, at the familiar signature on that ‘Physician Practice Change Consent Form.’ Back then, during a crucial phase of the hospital’s restructuring, Brandon had held that document, his fingers slightly trembling beneath his white coat. “Amelia, you know the risks involved in hospital reform. This agreement is just to satisfy the state medical board’s inspection. If our accreditation fails, it will at least protect your practice license.” His eyes were red-rimmed as he gripped my hand. “And those conservative old guard on the board… they need a clear statement. Trust me, it’s just a piece of paper, do we really need this between us?” “I love you, and I don’t want to drag you down.” At that time, I was completely swept up in Brandon’s so-called fake love, even touched by his supposed thoughtfulness. That thirty-page professional document… I hadn’t even bothered to scrutinize the fine print clauses. I, the person who could spot a 0.5mm nodule on a CT scan, had ironically missed the malignant tumor growing in my own life. How incredibly ironic… Amelia Hayes, nicknamed the living atlas of cardiac surgery, whose most frequent advice during mentorship was to meticulously study every single word of a pre-op surgical plan. My heart and soul, poured into my medical career, even rejecting top-tier offers from international institutions. Now, it had all culminated in betrayal, leaving me with absolutely nothing.

The surrounding medical staff immediately started whispering, their voices laced with sarcasm and mockery. “I heard even the patent for the heart valve she developed belongs to the hospital now.” “Serves her right. Someone needed to humble her arrogance.” I unpinned my ID badge and dropped it onto the floor. “Brandon Miller.” “I’ll sign it.” “As you wish, I’ll leave.” I turned, my white coat brushing against a bottle of iodine, sending it tumbling. Brandon’s voice instantly rang out. “Stop right there!” I paused, but didn’t turn back. “Amelia Hayes, you think resigning is the end of it?” “You haven’t completed your handover yet!” “Tomorrow’s community outreach clinic, you’ll show up and do your work, no questions asked.” “If you dare to skip, I’ll make sure the entire medical system knows that the esteemed cardiac surgery specialist refused to even take a poor old man’s blood pressure.” I slammed to a halt, utterly incredulous. Stealing all my credit wasn’t enough? He wanted me to stay and be publicly humiliated even further? A cold smirk played on Brandon’s lips. “Perfect, Chloe just won the Golden Scalpel Award for Young Physicians. She needs an assistant who’s familiar with the procedures. Starting today, you’re in charge of her award ceremony preparations.” He slapped a patient chart against my chest. “If anything goes wrong at the awards ceremony…” “You know what the Medical Malpractice Investigations Unit has been looking into lately.” Chloe immediately smiled, her eyes sharp as knives. “Don’t worry, Brandon. I’ll make sure to ‘guide’ Assistant Hayes properly.” The next few days were pure hell. I became her speechwriter, even her awards gown alteration seamstress. Every time she wanted to humiliate me, she chose the daily general meeting, making the entire hospital staff watch as she tossed away the research materials I had organized overnight, treating them like trash. On the day of the awards ceremony. The host’s voice boomed, inviting Chloe Davis to the stage to deliver her speech. Chloe, beaming with smug satisfaction, strutted onto the stage in her high heels. “Thank you to all the esteemed fellows and leaders for your guidance! This breakthrough in minimally invasive cardiac surgery, first and foremost, I must thank my fiancé, Mr. Brandon Miller.” That was fast. The divorce cooling-off period wasn’t even over, and she was already wearing an engagement ring. She gazed deeply at Brandon, who was seated in the front row, prompting a round of applause from the entire audience. Suddenly, she changed her tone, bringing up a set of data charts. “To be honest, leading this nation’s first transapical mitral valve repair surgery, I was quite apprehensive.” “You see, in the preliminary research, the traditional surgical approach had a 30% risk of valve displacement.” “If it weren’t for our team discovering the risk of valve anchor detachment during the surgery and promptly switching to traditional suturing techniques…” She casually dismissed my decade of hard work as a potential medical accident, subtly implying that she had stepped in to save the day. The hall immediately erupted in whispers. “So, Amelia Hayes’s patent was that dangerous.” “No wonder Patient 3 had reflux after surgery last time.” “Dr. Davis truly has a compassionate heart.” After the meeting, she cornered me by the elevator, holding out her hand. “Hand over the USB drive. Patient 001’s surgery, I’m the lead surgeon now. Give me his private contact information. I need to personally discuss the surgical plan. As for you…” She scoffed disdainfully. “You can go to HR and pick up your resignation forms.”

So that’s it. I stared at the surgery approval form in Chloe Davis’s hand, stamped with the red designation “001.” It suddenly clicked. Their target, all along, was Madam 001’s heart transplant surgery. This was the kind of elite surgery that could immortalize an entire medical team and secure national special grants. I slowly lifted my head. Chloe’s eyes were filled with pure greed, while Brandon Miller, standing nearby, wore a cold expression, clearly condoning everything. This was their trap. No wonder they waited until now to divorce me, no wonder they were only just now kicking me out. Because there were regulations stating that once a surgery of this caliber was completed, the lead surgeon would directly qualify for an academy fellowship nomination. They probably thought that if they dragged it out past the public announcement period, that honor would be securely placed on Chloe’s head. I burst out laughing. Brandon’s face turned grim. “What are you laughing at? Chloe Davis is a top expert trained at a world-renowned university! She’s performed surgeries for multiple important U.S. figures! Her abilities are a million times stronger than yours!” “Amelia Hayes, without Harmony Medical Center, you are nothing. The title of national master surgeon will soon be Chloe’s.” I smiled, handing over the encrypted USB drive. “Dr. Davis, I wish you a smooth surgery for Patient 001.” I couldn’t wait to see how someone who had faked her way into the medical system would pass Patient 001’s pre-operative review. I’d forgotten to tell them: Patient 001’s medical file was personally established by my father back in the day. That night, a black sedan slid silently to a stop. The window rolled down, revealing Professor Maxwell’s eyes – wrinkled, yet still sharp. He was the Head of Patient 001’s Security Detail, and my beloved mentor.

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My best friend, Zara, had studied magic performance in Las Vegas for half a year. When she came back, she shot to stardom. To make more money, she loved performing extreme stunts at every live show. At first, I earnestly warned her to be careful, but she completely ignored me, becoming even more obsessed. I gradually realized something was terribly wrong. When she performed a chain escape act on stage, my shoulder inexplicably dislocated. When she locked herself in a water tank for an extreme escape, I felt an intense pressure in my chest and uncontrollably spewed water at the dinner table. The most terrifying time, she showed the audience her razor blade swallowing act. My esophagus was horrifically lacerated by some foreign object, rotting all the way down to my stomach. From my hospital bed, I tearfully pleaded with my husband, Noah, who was her magic assistant. He, however, lectured me, “Zara went to study magic, not black magic. You’re pregnant; why aren’t you being more careful? What does her magic have to do with you? Just stay home and focus on your pregnancy.” I sat there, stunned, reflecting. Was it really just prenatal depression? Then came Zara’s national tour, with the grand finale act: sawing a person in half. Six long knives were plunged into the box she had entered. She emerged unharmed, but I was stabbed through my pregnant belly, killing both me and my unborn child in my own home. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of Zara’s first performance after returning home.

A soul-shattering pain radiated from every part of my body. I instinctively touched my eight-month pregnant belly… empty? I looked down; there was no blood, no baby bump. “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Master Zara, here to bring you her highly anticipated comeback show!” The host’s booming voice on stage yanked me back to reality. I was reborn. Reborn back to the day of Zara’s comeback show. My baby was only three months old in my womb. Everything was still salvageable. In my previous life, I was tidying up at home, holding my stomach, when I accidentally stumbled upon a photo of my best friend and my husband. Before I could even take a closer look, I was stabbed to death. In the photo, they were naked and in a highly intimate embrace. I didn’t even have time to confirm if it was really them. This time, I had to rush home and find out what that photo was all about. Before Zara even went on stage, I frantically packed my bag and tried to leave from backstage. The next second, Noah blocked my way. “Mia, where are you going? Zara’s about to go on stage.” Seeing Noah’s furrowed brow, he clearly wasn’t happy about me leaving right now. Seemingly realizing his attitude was off, Noah quickly put his hand on my arm and smiled. “Honey, Zara is your best friend. She studied abroad for so long, finally achieved something. Of course, you have to be here for her first show. Aren’t you happy for her?” I stared at Noah’s face. My best friend’s performance seemed to make him happier than me. “Oh, it hurts so much!” I pretended to clutch my stomach, a pained expression on my face. This was exactly the second week after I found out I was pregnant. Noah was still absorbed in the joy of becoming a father, and he was incredibly doting on me. “Are you okay, honey? Is the baby kicking you?” I playfully tapped his chest. “Oh, darling, don’t be silly. The baby’s only three months old; it doesn’t even have feet yet!” Noah chuckled, taking my fist and pulling it to his chest. But I used the momentum to push him away, stepped back, and clutched my stomach. “I probably ate something bad for lunch. I need to find a restroom right away.” “I’ll go with you!” He said, trying to put his arm around me and lead me towards the backstage exit. Zara’s sickeningly sweet voice floated from behind me: “Noah, darling, get ready, we’re on!” He froze. Noah had just taken a step before letting go of my hand, a look of apology on his face. “Mia, I have to go on stage. You go by yourself.” I forced a fake smile and waved at them. “Go on, I’ll be back to watch your show in a bit. Good luck!” Zara jogged over and playfully swung my hand. “Mia, this is my first show back home. Having you here makes me feel so much better~” I sneered inwardly. *You feel better, alright. All the cuts and pain were landing squarely on me.* Once I found out what methods you used, that would be the day you perished. For the two lives they stole, for my unborn child, I swore I’d make them pay! I left the backstage area and immediately hailed a taxi home. Relying on my memory, I found the secret compartment under the double bed Noah and I shared. The compartment opened to reveal that very photo, along with a dozen love letters, full of flowery words. And the entwined figures in the photo were Zara and Noah…

The tearing pain of being stabbed through once again surged through me. My heart felt like it was being ripped apart. I clutched my chest and sank to the floor. The photo slipped, face down. On the back, a row of small, handwritten words: “My eternal love, forever in my heart.” I recognized the handwriting instantly as Noah’s, bold and flowing script. He used to love writing me love letters in that very hand when he was pursuing me. The date was November 2023, three months after Noah and I got married. In the throes of our honeymoon phase, he was in bed with my best friend, claiming “eternal love”? Suddenly, a wave of nausea hit me. I clutched my chest and dry-heaved. I couldn’t tell if it was morning sickness or just pure disgust. My hands trembling, I picked up a few of the love letters and read them. Some felt familiar, others I’d never seen. Familiar because the content was identical to the letters Noah used to write to me. But judging by the dates, he wrote Zara’s first, and then simply copied them for mine. After facing the harsh reality, I put everything back in place, pretending I hadn’t touched anything. I immediately ran out the door and hailed a taxi to the hospital. At the same time, Zara’s magic performance had already begun. “Driver, hurry to the county women’s and children’s hospital!” Before the driver could even step on the gas, my shoulder suddenly flared with pain, and blood started to seep through. I knew it was Zara and Noah performing the blindfolded knife-throwing act. In my previous life, no matter how off-target Noah threw the knives, Zara would always come off stage completely unharmed. Noah had even bragged to me about it multiple times. “Honey, I’m a magic prodigy! Zara and I are a match made in heaven as stage partners!” More and more bloody lines appeared on my body. The driver was so scared he floored it to almost 120 mph. “Miss, are you okay! This… this looks really serious!” I covered my wounds with tissue paper and spoke weakly, “I’m fine, I’m fine, driver. Please, just go faster.” Luckily, the blindfolded knife-throwing only involved three knives, so they didn’t hit any vital organs. I got out of the taxi, covered in blood, and even gave the driver an extra two hundred dollars for car cleaning. I rushed into the hospital lobby, yelling for a doctor. At this moment, the hospital’s TV was also broadcasting Zara’s magic debut live. After a quick cleanup and bandage in the emergency room, I scheduled an abortion for the obstetrics and gynecology department. Noah, that scumbag, didn’t deserve to have a child with me! His child had already been stabbed through by his own six knives in my previous life. As I lay on the operating table, sedated. Zara was preparing to perform her underwater escape act. While the doctor was performing the surgery, I suddenly started convulsing and spitting up water. The doctor was so startled they didn’t dare continue. I took deep breaths and tried to reassure them. “It’s okay, Doctor, please continue… *cough, cough*…” Large amounts of clear water gushed from my mouth and nose. This was the second time I had experienced the sensation of almost drowning. The doctor had never seen such a scene, but at my insistence, they had no choice but to complete the surgery. Half an hour later, the surgery was done, and I lay weakly in the hospital room. The young nurses came in, making their rounds, gushing about Zara’s magic performance. “That Master Zara’s underwater escape just now was truly spectacular!” “Yeah, she was trapped in that water tank for five whole minutes and wasn’t hurt at all, she escaped successfully.” “A master who came back from abroad is just on another level. She even dropped the key to the lock but wasn’t in a hurry to pick it up. She was so calm, like a real-life mermaid.” I clenched my fists, swearing that no matter what evil methods she used, this time I would not let her harm me in the slightest. Suddenly, my phone rang. It was Noah calling.

I decisively rejected the call and replied to him on SnapChat. “Honey, company just scheduled an unexpected business trip for me. I’ll be gone for a few days.” Worried he’d notice something was off, I added another line: “Love you, remember to miss me and baby, and wish Zara success on her debut~” After that, I bought a flight ticket to a country known for its mysticism. I had to find out where Zara had really learned her magic. After some investigation, I learned that she hadn’t been studying in the UK for the past six months at all. Instead, she had gone to a country in Southeast Asia, a land steeped in ancient, forbidden magic… I caught a connecting flight. The moment I landed, I saw an old woman faint. The old woman was shabbily dressed, clutching a worn-out bag in her hand. I gave her some water and fanned her. She finally woke up. Just as I was about to leave, the old woman grabbed my hand. “Don’t go, young lady. We’re destined to meet, and I can help you.” Before I could answer, she abruptly snapped the chain of the small gold charm pendant around my neck. “Hey! What are you—” I frowned, about to scold her. But I saw her twist open the gold charm. This gold charm was a wedding anniversary gift from Noah this year. I had no idea this decorative locket could even open. The old woman pulled out a small piece of paper from inside. It was clearly a hex paper. She tsk-tsked, shaking her head. “My dear, someone put a hex on you.” … That afternoon, I felt disoriented. Even on the flight home, I hadn’t fully recovered. The old woman’s words kept echoing in my mind. *A hex…* If Zara put a hex on me, then why was the gold charm from Noah? Could he have known all along about Zara using this hex to transfer the harm to me? Like I was possessed, I found myself heading home, only to find Noah and Zara panting softly, entwined in the bathroom. Zara was even wearing the designer shirt I had bought Noah for our wedding anniversary. Seeing me return, they were clearly startled. Noah quickly straightened his clothes and came out, hugging me and trying to explain. “Mia, Zara got hurt during her performance today. I was just helping her with her wound.” I glanced at Zara; there was a nearly healed scratch on her collarbone. Suddenly, Noah’s grip tightened on my wrist. He glared at me, demanding, “Mia! Where’s the gold charm I gave you? How could you take it off?! No wonder Zara got hurt!” His grip was so tight it hurt, and tears welled up in my eyes. Realizing his outburst, he quickly let go and spoke gently, coaxing me. “Honey, that’s not what I meant. I meant this gold necklace is a symbol of our love, you can’t just take it off.” At this moment, I finally believed that he must have known about the hex paper hidden inside the charm. I pulled the broken chain and pendant from my bag, my face expressionless. “The chain broke. I can’t wear it.” The next second, Zara directly took off the gold chain from her own neck and handed it to me. “Mia, that’s such a shame. Then use my chain, darling. After all, it’s your wedding anniversary gift from Noah. Noah would surely be upset if you didn’t wear it.” Without waiting for my agreement, Zara picked up the gold charm, went to the side, and threaded it onto her gold chain. In the reflection of the mirror, I saw her whispering something to Noah. They opened the gold charm to confirm the hex paper was still inside, then pretended nothing was amiss. “Come on, honey. See how generous Zara is? She just gave you her gold chain. It’s hard to find a best friend like that.” Watching Noah put the almost identical gold chain around my neck, it was hard not to suspect he had bought two chains from the start—one for me, one for Zara. Too disgusted to say more, I walked straight into the bedroom. Carefully, I picked up the long strand of hair on the bed that didn’t belong to me.

Soon, it was time for Zara’s next live performance. By now, she was incredibly famous, with many fans traveling from out of town just to see her perform. She had already hyped it up online: today, she would perform the incredibly difficult grand finale act, sawing a person in half. The sensationalism and marketing had already been unleashed. Many magic enthusiasts gathered in the theater, eagerly awaiting her groundbreaking show. “I’ve been a magician for over ten years, and this is the first time I’ve seen a flawless performance like Master Zara’s.” “She’s truly a prodigy! I definitely need to ask her for some tips after the show.” These professional magicians couldn’t stop praising her. In just one month since returning home, Zara had become a legend in the magic world. I sat in the first row of the audience, clutching my phone tightly. I had mailed Zara’s long strand of hair to the old woman days ago, but I hadn’t heard from her. *Had I been scammed?* I took a deep breath, telling myself not to overthink. I’d already died once. At worst, it would be an all-out war with these two bastards. Cold sweat drenched my back, and my body trembled uncontrollably. Ten more minutes, and the show would begin. Zara’s opening act today was swallowing razor blades. I kept staring at my phone, the seconds ticking by. Zara and Noah came onto the stage, greeting the audience, who erupted in cheers. “Master Zara is a magic goddess!” “A legendary newcomer in magic! A dark horse!” “Flawless, astounding performance! We love you!” The applause lasted for a full three minutes before finally quieting down. Zara smiled gracefully, waving to acknowledge them. “Ladies and gentlemen, please settle down. Thank you all so much for coming to my show~” She deliberately spoke in a saccharine sweet voice. You could literally see the men in the audience melt. Noah on stage melted too. “To thank you all for your support, today’s opening act will be one of my signature skills~” “Razor blade swallowing!” Before she even finished, fans in the audience were already shouting it out for her. Zara smiled brightly, raising her hand to take a tray of blades Noah brought onto the stage. A whopping eighteen blades. Noah and Zara exchanged a knowing glance, then both looked at me simultaneously. A feeling of suffocation crawled over me. *Were they… planning to kill me directly?* But if they killed me, how would Zara perform the sawing a person in half trick? Zara’s overly sweet voice sounded again. “Just kidding with you all, I can’t swallow eighteen blades! I’ll only swallow three today~” Before the words fully left her mouth, she picked up a blade and swallowed it whole, without even chewing. The piercing pain of a sharp object tearing through my throat flared, and I clutched my neck, unable to speak. My phone rang. It was the old woman! I quickly pressed the answer button, but then I heard a piercing scream from the stage. Ah—

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In this world, failing the Grand National Exam meant immediate consignment to the lowest caste, becoming nothing more than an indentured servant. After my rebirth, I burned all my revision notes. Only because in my previous life, my so-called best friend used a system to spy through my vision. I’d poured my heart and soul into those exam notes, burning the midnight oil for two years straight. They were my ultimate guide to passing. She printed them out and freely handed them to every other student around us, but I was the only one kept in the dark. During the exam, she used her system to copy all my answers, then reported *me* to the Ogre Overseers for cheating off *her*. Staring at the identical exam papers, I was dragged away by the brutal Enforcers, condemned to become the lowest form of servant. Meanwhile, she became the top scorer, elevated to the world’s elite. I begged her to expose the truth, but she just laughed in my face: “Luna Sterling, isn’t this just karma for your cheating? What could I possibly prove?” Brandon, the guy I was totally crushing on, sneered when he heard: “You copied Vivian’s paper, and now you’re forcing her to vouch for you? Don’t you have any shame?” Because of that cheating accusation, I was tortured to death by the servant overseers, left to rot in a garbage dump. And Vivian Vance? She became renowned, the pillar of the elite. Fine. If that’s how it is, you two conniving snakes, I will make sure you taste the true depths of hell!

Watching the charred paper scraps dissolve in the fire pit, my tense body finally relaxed. First step, accomplished. This time, I would absolutely tear those two despicable scumbags limb from limb! My eyes began to ache, my head throbbed, and cold sweat trickled down my neck. This feeling was all too familiar. In this life, she was already starting to use her ability. I calmly kicked over the fire pit, and the flames were instantly smothered by the sand. Love to spy, do you? I’ll give you an eyeful. I went home, collapsed on the sofa, and pulled up one of the world’s top 10 horror movies. Just then, my phone buzzed incessantly. Brandon Hayes, my dream guy, was flooding me with messages. [Babe, did you study today? The exam is coming up, gotta study hard~] [Send me a pic, I’ll supervise you.] Hah. Supervising me now? In my previous life, I had eagerly accepted his “kindness.” Whenever I struggled with a problem, he’d rush over with a mountain of study materials. It truly sends shivers down my spine just thinking about it! I simply switched off my buzzing phone and went back to my horror movie. All the knowledge was stored in my head. Now, they were the ones who should be panicking. A moment later, the lock on my front door clicked, eerily, as it opened. I stared, wide-eyed and terrified. Brandon walked into my house, carrying coffee, his eyes softly tender. “How do you have my house code?!” “You told me last time when we were studying~” He spoke calmly, without a hint of rush. Vivian must have given it to him! She was the only other person who knew my code! Without batting an eyelid, I changed the door lock code on my phone. I smiled sweetly at him. “You came all the way to bring me coffee? You really want me to pull an all-nighter studying?” He sat beside me, reaching out to brush my hair. “Isn’t it for your future?” I subtly shifted, “accidentally” spilling my iced coffee all over his pristine white shirt. “Didn’t you often tell Vivian I was a bookworm, no fun, boring? A woman with only studying on her mind?” “I had a revelation today. We only have, what, three thousand days on this planet? Gotta relax a little, right?” Brandon carefully dabbed his white shirt with a tissue. His friendly expression froze instantly at my words. “You…” Those were the very words he’d spat at me when I was on my deathbed. He looked at me, visibly guilty. Suddenly, a piercing ringtone blared. Brandon shot me a quick glance, then stepped outside to answer. When he returned, he gazed at me with a look of reluctance. “I’m only thinking of you, Luna. You’re the person I love most. But I have an urgent matter to attend to now. I’ll have to leave.” Hah. My little puppy dog was off to lick my “bestie” again. “Wait!” I grabbed the other cup of coffee, then executed a perfect “fake trip,” spilling it precisely on the still-clean part of his white shirt. His face contorted in rage. “You…!” I pressed a hand to my forehead, delicately slumping onto the sofa. “Oh, it must be all this study stress lately. So clumsy of me~ But you love me the most, right? You wouldn’t mind?” At the mention of “study,” his expression softened. “Right. Well, I’m off then. See you at school tomorrow.” The moment the door clicked shut, I burst out laughing. Hahahaha! That idiot! Just as I’d suspected, that was the white suit he’d spent half his allowance on, planning to confess to Vivian today! What sweet revenge! I walked into my bedroom, turned off the lights, and put on my eye mask, all in one smooth motion. “You little sneak, enjoy the black screen! All my knowledge is locked right inside my brain!” In the middle of the night, a shrill ringtone jolted me. I rolled my eyes and answered the video call. “How *dare* you go to sleep?!” Vivian’s voice exploded.

I watched, utterly satisfied, as her face turned scarlet with fury. Slowly and deliberately, I spoke: “Vivian, what’s with the sudden call?” Her eyes were practically bulging out of her head. Today, she had scheduled a session with an off-campus tutor to demonstrate her problem-solving skills. For this, she’d even sent me the agreed-upon problems the day before, instructing me to solve them at a specific time today. She copied the first few problems, feeling smug about her precious system. But halfway through, she saw me using the scrap paper – *her* scrap paper – to wipe my dog’s rear. Nothing left to copy. The tutors, seeing her unable to continue, assumed she was messing with them and immediately revoked her eligibility for the National Math Olympiad. I met her eyes, which were filled with a desire to devour me. I warned her. “Playing dirty will only backfire on you! This is the first time, and it will be the last. Next time… I’ll make sure you don’t get off easy.” She looked at me with a complex expression. Then, she suddenly rubbed her eyes, feigning a yawn: “Oh, what’s going on? Luna, darling, why are we on the phone?” “My sleepwalking must have kicked in again, how terribly annoying~ Don’t be mad at me, okay~” She hung up immediately after saying that, then sent me a message. [Good night, Luna! Let’s walk to school together tomorrow~] Still treating me like the naïve fool from my past life? Last time, she used her “sleepwalking” excuse to steal thirty limited-edition designer bags. Looking at her pathetic excuse, I blocked and deleted her number. The next day, as I opened my front door, I saw Vivian and Brandon standing there. Brandon still had a smudge of lipstick near his mouth. Looks like they’d just finished a “session.” Vivian sidled up to me, oozing flattery. “Luna, why did you change your house code? I kept trying, but couldn’t get in.” “Trespassing? Looking for a jail cell?” I walked straight past them. Vivian didn’t seem annoyed. Instead, she solicitously held out a bag full of breakfast items, asking what I wanted. Oh, right. The money they spent? It all came from *my* linked payment account. In my past life, Brandon publicly acted like he disdained using my account, but secretly spent hundreds of thousands. Vivian, even worse, would flaunt spending my money in public, then privately call me an animal. Brandon frowned. “Vivian’s talking to you. Are you deaf?” “I’m spending my own money, and I’m supposed to applaud you for it?” I looked at Vivian. “Since you’re being so thoughtful, leave all the breakfast for me.” Vivian’s eyes instantly reddened, and she bit her lip. “Luna, I’m sorry. I know I’m spending your money, but today… I haven’t eaten breakfast either.” Brandon stepped in front of Vivian, shielding her. “Luna Sterling! Don’t be so arrogant! Vivian was kind enough to buy you breakfast, and this is how you treat her?” I stepped closer to Vivian. “Didn’t you offer it to me?” “You insisted on giving it, and I kindly accepted. Now I’m the ungrateful one?” My finger tapped her shoulder, one by one. “If you don’t want to give, don’t pretend. You dare to offer, I dare to take. After all, it’s all my money, isn’t it?” I turned to look at the man I once adored. In my previous life, I never tired of looking at him. But now, he looked hideous, like a disgusting, slimy swamp creature. The next second, Vivian covered her face and ran off, crying. Brandon, when I wasn’t looking, viciously slapped me across the face. “This is all your fault! You better write out a detailed exam study plan by tonight! Or I won’t let you get away with this!” Brandon glared at me, then turned to chase Vivian. I immediately lifted my foot and delivered a solid kick to his backside. He sprawled on the ground, his face twisted in rage, eyes almost popping out. He looked ready to unleash a torrent of curses, but then he suddenly looked at me with pity, as if he understood something. “I know you like me a lot, but you can’t hurt Vivian just because you’re jealous, can you?” “Go on, apologize to Vivian, and give her your newly written exam problem-solving notes. She’ll probably forgive you.” I walked over to him, grabbing a handful of his hair. “Oh, I will. Just you wait. I’ll make sure you’re both ‘satisfied.’”

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=== Chapter 1 === I jolted awake in darkness, my nightgown clinging to my sweat-soaked skin. The pain came in waves, sharp and insistent across my abdomen. My hands flew protectively to the swell of my belly where our miracle grew—our Noah, our peace after three years of heartbreak and hormone injections. “Ethan,” I whispered, reaching across the Egyptian cotton sheets. “Something doesn’t feel right.” My husband stirred beside me, the blue glow of his phone illuminating his sharp features in the pre-dawn darkness of our master suite. His fingers never stopped moving across the screen. “It’s probably nothing,” he murmured, not looking up. “The doctor said Braxton Hicks contractions are normal at this stage.” I bit my lip, swallowing the urge to remind him that I knew my body better than anyone. This baby had been my obsession, my purpose, my redemption. Every failed IVF cycle had carved another piece from my heart. When the last pregnancy test finally showed positive, I’d fallen to my knees in gratitude. Now something was wrong. I could feel it. Breakfast was a silent affair in our sun-drenched kitchen. Ethan sat across from me, scrolling through market updates while I pushed eggs around my plate. Another cramp seized me, stronger than before. I dropped my fork with a clatter. “I’m having pains again,” I said, pressing my palm against the side of my belly. “They’re getting worse.” Ethan glanced up, his expression softening momentarily before his phone buzzed again. He checked it, his face immediately closing off. “The doctor said some discomfort is expected,” he replied, already returning to his screen. “We have the cemetery visit this morning. My father would never forgive me if we missed Memorial Day.” I nodded silently. The Foster family traditions were sacrosanct—especially paying respects to their ancestors. It symbolized continuity, legacy. Everything Ethan valued. In the backseat of our sleek black sedan, rain pelted the windows as our driver navigated the winding roads to the private Foster family cemetery. I clutched the small leather photo album in my lap, tracing the edges of the pictures inside—snapshots of our fertility journey. Me, hollow-eyed after the first miscarriage. Ethan and me, forcing smiles outside the clinic before our third IVF attempt. The first sonogram of Noah, a tiny flickering heartbeat that had made me weep with joy. “We’re almost there,” Ethan said, not looking away from his phone. His fingers typed rapidly, responding to someone who apparently couldn’t wait. I wondered, not for the first time, when he had become so distant. During our early attempts to conceive, he had been present, holding my hand through procedures, wiping my tears after failures. Somewhere along the way, that man had disappeared, replaced by this distracted stranger who shared my bed. The car stopped at the cemetery gates. Our driver opened an umbrella, but Ethan was already stepping out into the rain, phone pressed to his ear. “We need to walk from here,” he said, gesturing impatiently for me to follow. I eased myself from the car, the cold rain immediately soaking through my maternity dress. The path up the hillside was steep, slick with mud. I took three steps before a contraction—stronger than any before—doubled me over. I clutched the wrought iron railing, a small cry escaping my lips. “Ethan,” I gasped, “I need to sit down. Something’s wrong.” He turned, phone still at his ear, irritation flashing across his face. Then his expression changed completely as the person on the other end spoke. His eyes widened with concern—more emotion than I’d seen from him in months. “What? Slow down, Rebecca. What happened?” he said urgently. I leaned heavily against the railing, another wave of pain washing over me. Something warm trickled down my inner thigh. I looked down in horror at the red droplets mixing with rainwater at my feet. “Ethan,” I pleaded, my voice rising with panic. “I’m bleeding. We need to go to the hospital now.” He held up one finger, silencing me as he listened intently to the caller. “That’s terrible. Of course I’ll come right away.” “Ethan!” I cried out, clutching my belly. “The baby—” He finally looked at me, but his eyes were already elsewhere. “Rebecca needs me—she’s alone. Her service dog’s memorial marker has been vandalized. She can barely see without him to guide her.” “Please,” I begged, tears mixing with rain on my face. “Don’t leave us.” “I won’t be long,” he said, already turning away. “Wait in the car. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” I reached for him, but he was already hurrying down the path, phone clutched to his ear, leaving me alone on the hillside as another contraction tore through me and more blood soaked my dress. “Our baby,” I whispered to no one as I sank to my knees in the mud. “Please, not our baby.”=== Chapter 2 === The world came back to me in fragments—harsh fluorescent lights, the antiseptic smell of disinfectant, the steady beep of monitors. My throat felt raw, my body heavy and disconnected. I tried to move, but pain shot through my abdomen, forcing a whimper from my lips. “Easy there, honey.” A nurse appeared at my bedside, her face kind but tired. “You’ve been through quite an ordeal.” The memories crashed over me like ice water. The cemetery. The blood. Ethan leaving me in the rain. “My baby,” I croaked, my hands flying to my stomach, finding only flatness where life had grown. “Where is—” The nurse’s expression told me everything. She squeezed my shoulder gently. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Foster. The doctors did everything they could.” I turned my face into the pillow, unable to process the weight of those words. Noah. My miracle. Gone. Through the haze of grief, I heard voices in the hallway—one unmistakably Ethan’s. I forced myself to focus, straining to hear. “—can’t thank you enough for understanding,” a woman’s voice said, breathy and sweet. “I know you had to leave Olivia, but Max meant everything to me.” “Rebecca, you know I’d do anything for you.” Ethan’s voice held a tenderness I hadn’t heard in months. “Besides, our baby will be perfect. I promise you that.” Our baby? The words sliced through me. I must have misheard. The medication, the trauma—surely my mind was playing tricks. A giggle floated through the door, light and carefree. “You always know what to say. I’m the luckiest woman alive.” Their footsteps faded down the corridor, leaving me alone with a pain that had nothing to do with my physical wounds. The next morning brought a new roommate—a woman in her forties who immediately launched into her story. “Third miscarriage,” she said, dabbing at her eyes. “They say it gets easier, but it doesn’t. Each one takes a piece of you.” She looked at me expectantly. “What about you, honey?” I opened my mouth, but no words came. How could I explain that my husband had chosen a vandalized dog memorial over our dying child? That I’d heard him promise perfection to another woman while I lay here empty? Tears slipped silently down my cheeks as she continued talking about support groups and trying again. I turned toward the window, watching rain streak the glass, and let her words wash over me like white noise. On the third day, Ethan finally appeared in my room. He carried a bouquet of white roses—funeral flowers, I thought bitterly. “The doctor says you can go home tomorrow,” he said, setting the flowers on the nightstand without meeting my eyes. “I’ve arranged for a nurse to help you.” “Our son is dead,” I said flatly. He shifted uncomfortably. “Olivia, I know you’re grieving, but—” He paused, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair. “Perhaps this is for the best. We weren’t really ready. The timing with the Singapore merger, your health issues… We can try again when things are more stable.” For the best. The words echoed in the hollow chamber where my heart used to be. “Get out,” I whispered. “Olivia—” “Get out!” The scream tore from my throat, raw and primal. The roommate’s eyes widened in alarm. Ethan left without another word. The morning of my discharge dawned gray and oppressive. A nurse helped me dress while I leaned heavily on crutches, my body still weak from blood loss. Ethan was nowhere to be seen—just a driver waiting to take me home. But I didn’t go home. I gave the driver an address across town, to a small funeral home I’d found in the phone book. The director, an elderly man with gentle eyes, didn’t ask questions when I explained what I needed. “We can arrange a private ceremony,” he said softly. “Just you and your son.” Two days later, under a sky that threatened more rain, I stood alone in a small chapel. The tiny casket seemed impossibly small, draped in soft blue fabric. Inside lay the remains of my baby—my Noah, my peace that never was. “I name you Noah Foster,” I whispered to the empty room. “You were wanted. You were loved. You were mine.” When they brought me the silver box containing his ashes, I pressed it against my chest, feeling its cool weight against my heart. This was all I had left of him—this small vessel holding infinite dreams. As I limped back to the waiting car, I caught my reflection in the funeral home’s glass door. The woman staring back was a stranger—hollow-eyed, broken, clutching a silver box like a lifeline. Somewhere across town, my husband was probably with her, planning their perfect future while I carried our son’s ashes home alone.=== Chapter 3 === The house was too large, too empty, as I walked through its echoing halls, the silver box tucked beneath my arm. Shadows clung to the corners, whispering secrets I was too weary to decipher. Home was meant to be a sanctuary, but now it felt like a cage, its grandeur mocking the smallness of the life I had left within its walls. In the study, Ethan sat behind his polished desk, the glow of his laptop illuminating his face—a mask of casual indifference. The air was thick with unspoken words, and I paused at the threshold, watching him. “We can try again,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion, as if discussing a business plan rather than the shattered remains of our dreams. Each word was a stone cast into the well of my grief. His phone buzzed—a persistent reminder of Rebecca’s presence in our lives—and he ignored it with practiced ease. The room was a battleground of silence, where the only sound was the gentle rain tapping against the windows, a distant echo of the storm that had taken Noah from me. I turned away, retreating from the battlefield of his indifference into the solitude of my studio. Here, amidst the scattered canvases and brushes, I sought refuge. The sketchbook lay open on the table, its pages waiting for expression that words could not capture. I took up my pencil, drawing lines that formed a figure—a lone silhouette clutching a glowing box against the encroaching darkness. Each stroke was a whisper of my resolve, a testament to the defiance that burned within me. I glanced at Ethan’s phone, its screen lighting up with the constant barrage of messages. His betrayal was a wound that festered, but in the quiet of the studio, I found a flicker of strength—a resolve to reclaim the voice I had lost. The storm raged outside, a symphony of chaos that mirrored the turmoil within. And then, as if conjured by the tempest, Rebecca burst into the grand foyer. Her entrance was a spectacle, a performance of vulnerability, as she stumbled dramatically, a collapsible dog crate and white cane in hand. Rainwater soaked the marble floor, creating a mirror of the chaos she brought with her. “Olivia,” she cried, her voice a breathy wail, full of accusation and theatrical distress. Her presence was a violation, an intrusion upon the fragile peace I had begun to rebuild. Ethan appeared, his expression a mask of concern tailored for his mistress. He rushed to her side, his touch gentle, a stark contrast to the callous disregard he had shown me. “What’s wrong?” he asked, as if she were a wounded bird fallen from the sky. Rebecca’s eyes found mine, and I saw the gleam of triumph beneath her feigned vulnerability. “Max’s ashes,” she accused, her voice rising to a crescendo of hysteria. “They’re gone! And I know you took them!” The accusation was absurd, yet it hung in the air, a poison spreading through the room. Ethan’s gaze turned towards me, suspicion clouding his eyes. “Olivia, did you…” I clutched the silver box tighter, my son’s remains held close to my heart. “No,” I whispered, the word a shield against the storm she had unleashed. Yet even as I denied her claim, I felt the walls closing in, the weight of Ethan’s mistrust pressing upon me. Rebecca’s performance continued, a symphony of false grief that filled the space with its discordant notes. Ethan’s hand rested on her shoulder, a gesture of support that cut deeper than any blade. I was alone in the chaos, surrounded by the echoes of betrayal. As the storm outside raged, I stood my ground—a lone figure against the darkness, holding onto the memory of the son I had lost. The battle was far from over, but in that moment, amidst the tempest, I found a whisper of resolve. The storm would pass, and with it, the lies and deceit that sought to drown me. But for now, as I faced the woman who would see me broken, I held onto the truth, a beacon against the night. Outside, the rain fell in relentless sheets, a reminder that the storm was not yet done. But within me, a new strength took root—a promise that this battle would not end in silence.

My boyfriend picked me up from work, and a girl was sitting in the passenger seat. She rolled her eyes at me. “I get car-sick easily. You don’t mind if I sit up front, do you?” I slapped my boyfriend. “You dare give someone a ride when they’re car-sick? What if she flatlines right here in my car?!” Asher and I met at a party. I twisted my ankle in high heels, and he drove me home. At first, I thought he was some unattainable hunk, but then I heard he was a notorious player, a walking red flag. I was super wary of him at first. But he wouldn’t give up. He quit smoking for me, got into fights for me, and even got a vasectomy for me. Everyone in our circle said he’d changed for good. I believed them.

The six months I spent with Asher were genuinely happy. We traveled all over the world, seeing incredible sights, from towering mountains to vast oceans. Under a blanket of stars, he swore he’d only love me, forever. But recently, friends started telling me Asher had a new woman by his side. She was gorgeous, and he was constantly taking her to high-end places. I laughed it off, saying it must be for work, but a seed of doubt had been planted. Because Asher’s replies to my messages were getting slower and slower.

On Friday, Asher came to pick me up. The moment I opened the car door, I saw a girl in the passenger seat. She eyed me up and down, then abruptly rolled her eyes. “Sister, I get car-sick easily. You don’t mind if I sit up front, do you?” I looked at Asher. He said nothing. I smacked him. “You dare give someone a ride when they’re car-sick? What if she flatlines right here in my car?!” Scarlett’s face instantly fell. Asher snapped, “Rowan, you’re going too far. She’s just…” “Just shameless, I know.” I cut him off, grabbed the girl by her hair, and easily yanked her out. She tumbled onto the ground. I stepped over her, got into the car, and slammed the door shut. Outside, she was wailing and sobbing, tears streaming down her face. “Mr. Davies! Mr. Davies!” I picked up the water bottle she’d been drinking from, rolled down the window, and tossed it at her. “Just because you’re pretty, you think you’re hot stuff? You picked the wrong fight, sweetie. You have no idea who you’re messing with!” “Rowan, she’s not feeling well,” Asher said, getting into the driver’s seat and grabbing my hand. I turned to him, smiling. “Did *you* make her uncomfortable, bro?” Asher’s face darkened, his lips thinning into a hard line. I continued, “Bro, you don’t think I’ll let *you* off the hook just because I chewed *her* out, do you? If you don’t want this to blow up, drive.” Asher looked like he wanted to speak but held back. Finally, he started the car.

Back home, Asher sat on the couch, completely silent. “Let’s break up,” I said softly. He looked up. “Rowan, aren’t you overreacting? Nothing happened between Scarlett and me. She just wasn’t feeling well, that’s why I let her sit up front.” I poured myself a glass of water. “Oh, I know.” “Then why do you want to break up?” he asked, his voice urgent. “Because I’m bored,” I said dismissively, taking a sip of water. He froze, then, after a long moment, managed, “Bored?” I slowly walked over to him, smiling. “Bro, being with you is just so dull.” Veins bulged in his neck. I chuckled softly, patted his face, and pointed to the row of Muay Thai trophies on the wall. “Don’t get any ideas. I don’t mind hitting a guy.” “Rowan, you’re ruthless,” he snarled, then spun around and stormed out the door.

I lay back on the crisp white chair, my eyes unfocused. “Dr. Evans, I’ve been feeling irritable and moody again lately. Everyone around me is so annoying, like a bunch of idiots. I just want to tear this whole world apart.” “Rowan, you still need to be more positive,” Dr. Evans said softly, giving me a shot in my left arm. “A year ago, I didn’t recommend you leave, but you’ve been doing so well and taking your meds on time, so I approved your discharge. Just get some rest now.” I slowly closed my eyes. In my dream, I was a child again. Everyone knew the Blackwoods had a smart son, but no one knew it was boy-girl twins. Our family mystic said I was a bad omen, a curse. I was supposed to be drowned, but Mom couldn’t bring herself to do it. She secretly left me at an orphanage. The orphanage director was a pervert. When I was ten, he called me into his office, promising me toys. In the end, the police and doctors arrived. They looked at me, their faces full of shock. After answering countless questions, I was sent to the biggest mental institution in the city. I stayed for ten years.

When I woke up, my friends from the ward were all gathered around. “Boss, did your brain short-circuit again?” “Who messed with you, Boss? I’ll go invisible and take them out.” I sat up and smiled. “It’s nothing, just minor stuff.” Finn handed me a cup of water. “Boss, drink some water first.” Leo stopped Finn, touching the cup. “Can’t drink it. The water’s 90 degrees right now, and the right angle will get stuck in her throat.” What a clown. I looked towards the door. “Where are Jasper and Milo?” “Jasper’s out fishing in a washbasin, and Milo’s releasing fish tofu into the pond.” I nodded. Dr. Evans pushed the door open and walked in. “Aren’t you guys supposed to be saving the world? Why are you all crowded around your boss?” “We’re not going. The world isn’t as important as our Boss,” they mumbled. Dr. Evans glanced at me. I quickly took their hands. “The people need you!” Only then did they reluctantly run out. “Rowan, this is your new medication. Take it on time, and call me if anything happens.” I took the medicine Dr. Evans handed me, secretly musing, “What would happen if Asher took these?”

But before I could find Asher, I ran into Scarlett. She held her head high with arrogance, smiling triumphantly. “Sister, haven’t you been sleeping well lately? You look so haggard.” I perked my ears up, whispering, “Shhh, don’t talk.” “I never thought being dumped by Mr. Davies would hit you so hard, you’ve totally lost it.” She sneered, mocking me with contempt. I slowly stood up, then started slapping her face left and right. As I did, I chanted nonsense, “No more Mr. Nice Guy! Bo-bo-bo, bi-bi-bi! The dinosaurs are coming for you! Rawr, rawr, rawr!” By the time I finished my ‘song,’ her face was swollen, looking like a bruised pig. “You psycho! How dare you hit me?!” Her mouth was full of marbles, slurring her words. “Do you know who my dad is?” I shook my slightly sore hand. “Didn’t your mom tell you? What, you’re out here looking for a daddy? Now, get on your knees and beg, and maybe I’ll lower myself to be your daddy.” One hand covering her face, the other pointing at me, tears streaming down. “What trash are you? Without Asher, who do you think will back you up? You just wait!” I rolled my ankle and stretched my limbs. Seeing my stance, she backed up a few steps, then turned and ran. But she did remind me. It was time to visit Mr. Blackwood’s family.

I actually went to the Blackwood family’s place a month ago. It was Julian Blackwood’s birthday. Mr. Blackwood was a big shot in Cloud City. The moment he saw me, he looked tense, because I was wearing a backless gown, and the crescent-shaped birthmark on my shoulder was fully exposed. I didn’t intend to cause trouble, but Julian Blackwood just had to provoke me. His fingers grazed my birthmark, and he muttered something vulgar. I raised my hand and splashed a glass of red wine in his face. He arrogantly moved to hit me, but Mr. Blackwood stopped him with a furious shout. After the banquet, Mr. Blackwood called me aside. We reached an agreement: he’d give me a sum of money, and I wouldn’t reveal my identity. I mean, what woman in her right mind would turn down six houses?

Mr. Blackwood looked at me coldly. “What are you doing here?” I pointed at Julian. “To kick his ass.” “Kick *my* ass? What for?” Julian jumped to his feet, his eyes darting. “This is the Blackwood family estate. You won’t cause trouble here,” Mr. Blackwood’s voice carried anger. “You’ve probably forgotten I also carry the Blackwood name, haven’t you?” I leaned close to his ear and yelled maniacally, “Dad! Dad! Dad!” My voice echoed through the entire dining room. It probably shattered his eardrums. Mr. Blackwood clapped his hands over his ears and practically leapt away, his face etched with pain. “Are you insane?!” I smiled. “You know best whether I’m sick or not, don’t you?” Julian stood between me and Mr. Blackwood. “You’re a psycho. How dare you dream of being a Blackwood? That’s just delusional.” He was quite the dutiful son. I picked up the red wine from the table. He instantly tensed up. I smiled. “So you sent people to scare me a few days ago?” “I didn’t!” He bit his lip hard, his eyes fixed on my hand. “Don’t worry, I won’t splash you again.” I tilted my head back and drank the wine. His body relaxed. A smile played on my lips as the red wine suddenly sprayed out of my mouth. He and Mr. Blackwood scrambled backward, and I advanced, step by step. “Oops, sorry, that wine was just too awful. Couldn’t hold it in.” I picked up a napkin from the table and elegantly wiped my mouth. Mr. Blackwood and Julian were covered in wine stains on their heads, faces, and clothes, looking utterly pathetic. Julian lunged at me with a fist. “Rowan, you did that on purpose! If I don’t crush you today, I’ll take your name!” The next second, the distinct *crack* of bone sounded. Mr. Blackwood frantically bent down. “Julian, are you okay?” Julian was grimacing in pain, unable to utter a single word. “Rowan, what exactly do you want?” Mr. Blackwood asked, heartbroken. “Didn’t I say I came to kick his ass?” I pointed at Julian. “Now that it’s done, I should be going.” I casually grabbed a chicken leg from the table. “Dad, don’t forget to change Julian’s name. From now on, he’s my son, Julian Davies.” Behind me, I heard Mr. Blackwood’s heavy sigh. “Why did you have to provoke her? She’s completely insane.” I arrived at a cemetery, the wind scattering the flowers I brought. The woman on the tombstone smiled gently. I placed the flowers in front of her. “Mom, I’ve come to see you.” When I was little, Eleanor often visited me at the orphanage.

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Six years into our marriage, Julian was openly seeing another woman. He pressured me relentlessly for a divorce. I flat-out refused to sign the papers, no matter what. So, he stopped hiding it. He started bringing her everywhere, openly, shamelessly. But one day, I called him, my voice urgent. I told him to finalize the divorce, *fast*. Because I was about to go on a mission, one I’d signed a waiver for, acknowledging the extreme risk. Chances were, I wouldn’t be coming back. I’d been obsessed with Julian since I was a kid. We grew up in the same neighborhood. Unlike his steady, composed nature, I was always loud and a bit wild, shamelessly chasing after him. My elders often said my personality would be perfect for law enforcement. I didn’t join the army, but I did go to the police academy. But Julian never liked me. He always preferred the gentle type, the kind with big, innocent eyes and a soft, delicate look. Yet the woman he loved most left him when his startup was struggling the hardest. That same year, he lost his mother to cancer. And his company, crippled by a lack of funds, couldn’t even get off the ground. He was hit by one blow after another, reaching the lowest point of his life. He wasn’t himself anymore. He was drinking heavily, a complete mess, unshaven and barely functioning. Without a second thought, I sold the house my parents bought me and gave him every single cent. “Julian, take this money. Use it.” When he found out where the money came from, He screamed at me, cursed at me, said the most awful things. He’d always been dismissive of me, but that was the first time his words made me cry. My lips trembled, tears streaming down my face as I wailed, “I believe in you! Your company *will* succeed, you’ll make so much money, you’ll be a big shot! This is just an investment!” To my surprise, he finally pulled me into a tight embrace. He said if the company took off, we’d get married.

I’d never made an investment in my life. But the one I made in Julian was a smashing success. His startup soared. In the very first year, he made a fortune. He bought me a huge house, twice the size of the one I’d sold. And he kept his promise, proposing to me. We got married. House, car, money—we had it all. We lived a happy, fulfilling life. But as his company grew, his business trips became more frequent. He was busier than I was, even with my daily routine of catching thieves and chasing robbers. Just two years into our marriage, his late nights turned into entire absences. By the sixth year, his company was preparing to go public. But I often couldn’t reach him by phone, and his clothes frequently carried the scent of perfume. My insomnia spiraled out of control. “Julian, we need to talk, properly.” He sat there, running his fingers through his hair. “Aubrey, I’ve met someone. She’s gentle, so understanding. I know this is incredibly unfair to you, but if you agree to a divorce, I’m willing to give you ten percent of the company shares.” That day, I lunged at him and slapped him hard. “Julian, you bastard! How could you do this to me after everything? After how much I love you?!” He held me tightly. “I’m grateful for you, for being there for me during my toughest times. But it’s been six years, and I still can’t accept you, Aubrey. Let’s get a divorce.”

I was always compliant when it came to Julian. But with the divorce, I lost my mind. Only because I loved him too much. I still wanted to win him back. I confronted that woman, telling her she was nothing but a mistress, that what she was doing was morally reprehensible. I even offered her money to leave Julian. I even went as far as to expose Julian’s affair to his father. I thought this would make Julian come back. But what happened was, he came home, grabbed me by the arm, and exploded in anger. He called me crazy. He screamed that I knew his father had a weak heart, that I was trying to kill him with my words, that I was intentionally trying to trigger his heart condition. He told me to come at him directly, not threaten that woman. He accused me of having ulterior motives. He smashed a lot of things in the house. He even said I disgusted him and that I should live alone from then on. After that day, I could never get through to him by phone again. I sent him messages. “Julian, I’m so sorry. I know I handled things badly. Please don’t be angry. Come home. I know you like girls with long hair and soft skin. I can grow my hair long, I can take care of my skin.” He replied with just one message. “Aubrey, being with you feels like being with a guy. I just want a divorce. Can’t we just end this amicably?”

That woman got pregnant. He couldn’t wait any longer. He personally brought the divorce papers, along with a ten percent share transfer agreement. It hit me then: he never intended to have a child with me from the start. I’d had a miscarriage once, and after my body recovered, he always made sure to take precautions, no matter how much I protested. Yet now, he’d gotten another woman pregnant. I was sickened to my stomach. I ripped up the divorce papers, tore the share transfer agreement to shreds, and threw them at him. “Julian, *you* betrayed me! I don’t want your shares, and I won’t make it easy for you two!” I couldn’t face any of it. I requested a transfer to field duty, fighting crime, catching criminals. I simply wouldn’t come back to discuss the divorce with him. He stopped caring about appearances. He bought the mistress a villa for her pregnancy. The whole thing became public knowledge among our relatives and friends. Our relatives and friends, believing I couldn’t conceive, tacitly accepted his infidelity, thinking my infertility played a part. They just saw it as a messy, regrettable situation. Even his father, seeing that there was already a child on the way, rarely intervened.

Then, a major figure emerged within a criminal syndicate we were tracking. We raided one of his hideouts, and he retaliated violently: burning patrol cars, ambushing our officers. One of our colleagues, Arthur, was staked out and spotted by them. He was stabbed multiple times and died on the spot. Arthur had a five-year-old daughter. A heavy silence fell over the department. Based on the information we gathered, This criminal syndicate was incredibly brutal, operating near the border, armed with advanced weaponry. I lost five pounds in three days. My captain patted my shoulder. “Aubrey, don’t feel pressured. We’ll get these bastards.” I nodded, but my mind was already made up: I would personally bring those animals to justice. “Here’s your transfer order. Tomorrow, you’re moving to the department’s archives. Pack your things and report there.” I froze for a moment but stubbornly refused. “Captain, I’m not going back. I’m staying in the field.” “Don’t argue. No woman stays on the front lines forever.” I hesitated. “Honestly, Captain, if you didn’t say ‘woman,’ I’d forget my own gender.” Since childhood, I’d preferred uniforms to dresses. Especially after joining field duty, I’d cut my long hair to a short, neck-length bob because it was impractical for chasing suspects. “Don’t be stubborn, Aubrey. Arthur’s death had nothing to do with you. Don’t blame yourself.” I was silent for a long time. This had been weighing on my heart for days. “If I hadn’t taken that day off, he wouldn’t have covered for me. He wouldn’t have died. He died because of me.” That day, I was supposed to be on duty, observing from the corner store. But Julian called, insisting we meet because Celeste was about to give birth. If I didn’t agree, he threatened to come to my workplace to find me, as someone had seen me at the corner store. To protect my undercover identity, I was forced to take that day off, and Arthur covered for me. Arthur had been on the force for a long time and worked many cases. He was recognized by that group. That very night, he was brutally attacked in an alley.

A week later, we got intel: this group was leaving the country in three days. The department issued orders: we had to capture them before they crossed the border. After our final briefing, we were each handed a document. It was a pre-mission waiver, an acknowledgment that we understood the extreme risks, a life-or-death agreement. After I signed it, And called my parents, I finally called Julian. “I’ve made up my mind. I agree to the divorce. Meet me at the courthouse entrance in an hour.” He sounded surprised. “Are you serious?” “Yes, I’m already on my way to the courthouse. You should hurry too.” My journey was longer. He arrived before me, which suited his eagerness to end our marriage. “Madam, this is the equity division agreement. Mr. Hayes said he wants to give you ten percent of the shares.” “No need. I just want eight hundred thousand dollars, right now. Transfer it directly to my account, the amount from when I sold my house back then.” The lawyer and Julian both paused, stunned. But they did as I asked. Julian made a call, and eight hundred thousand dollars appeared in my account. Few people were divorcing that day. It was our turn quickly. “Are both parties divorcing voluntarily?” “Yes.” With a final stamp, our marriage was officially dissolved. I had to rush back to duty. I grabbed my copy of the papers and left. “Aubrey.” Julian, uncharacteristically, called out to me from behind. “Something wrong?” “You’ve lost a lot of weight.” “If there’s nothing else, I need to go.” “Is your team on a mission recently?” “Sorry, confidential.” I got into a taxi and left. In the taxi, I inadvertently looked back and saw Julian still standing at the entrance, watching me leave. After returning to duty, Following our pre-arranged tactical plan, We were grouped and ambushed at three border crossing points.

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Two years ago, a video of me kneeling outside an operating room was leaked anonymously. In the video, my hair was a mess, my makeup smudged. I was like a statue, kneeling on the floor, eyes fixed on the closed operating room doors. The comments poured in, mocking me: 【Is this a horror movie?】 【How does she still get acting gigs? Did she pay her way into the cast?】 【I hate her so much. If she’s in a show, I won’t even glance at it.】 … Until the end of the video, when the operating room doors opened. I stumbled forward, crying out the A-list actor’s name. Everyone was shocked, “Is she crazy? How dare she try to piggyback off his fame?” A video of me from two years ago was leaked by an anonymous user. Because it was heavily edited, people online didn’t realize it happened two years ago. In the video, my hands were clasped tight, my gaze locked on the operating room doors. I knelt there, a figure of desperate prayer and despair. My hair was a mess, my makeup streaked by tears. I kept murmuring, “Please, please, please.” The comments flooded in, mocking me: 【Isn’t that Anya Stone? Didn’t she step out of the spotlight two years ago?】 【I can’t stand her. Definitely not watching anything she’s in!】 【She actually still has acting gigs? She must’ve paid her way into the production!】 … These comments scrolled repeatedly, all variations of the same message. In the video, the operating room doors opened. I stumbled and lunged towards the body covered in a white sheet. I fell twice, then scrambled back up, my gut-wrenching wails filling the entire floor. “Doctor, please, save him again!” “I’m begging you!” As I spoke, I was about to collapse to my knees, but a nurse held me back. “Doctor! I’ll kneel for you!” “He’s not dead! He’s not dead!” I clutched the railing tightly, stopping them from wheeling the bed away. Someone in the comments section sighed: 【Gotta say, her acting is really good.】 【She’s crying so hard, it feels like she’s about to follow him.】 It was only when I screamed “Cole Vance” that the comments section instantly filled with question marks. 【What’s going on?? This isn’t acting?】 【This is *the* A-list actor? He’s dead? No way, his fans just posted pictures of him on set this afternoon.】 【Is she okay? How dare she try to piggyback off Cole Vance’s fame!】

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Scarlett Hayes dumped me again for Brandon Miller. This time, it was at our wedding. Watching her back disappear, a cold, digital voice echoed in my mind: “This is the 100th time the Female Lead has abandoned you for the Supporting Male. Do you wish to relinquish your role as her Male Lead?” “Yes.” “You can choose a new Male Lead for the Female Lead.” “Brandon Miller.” Since these childhood sweethearts couldn’t let go of each other, I decided to lock them together forever. “Because you were bound to Scarlett Hayes as her Male Lead by the System, you would always forgive her, no matter what she did. “Now, you are free,” the digital voice continued. “Can she bind me again?” I asked. “No, she has no right to change the Male Lead again.” … When the conversation ended, I felt a profound sense of clarity, like a heavy fog had finally lifted from my mind. Looking at the chaotic scene of family and guests below the stage, I steadied myself, took the microphone from the emcee, and announced: “I deeply regret that this wedding cannot proceed. I apologize for any disruption or disappointment this may cause.” The crowd quieted down. “Ms. Hayes just announced a postponement, but I don’t agree. “From today forward, our engagement is off. We go our separate ways, with no ties between us.” The grand ballroom erupted in another uproar, following the bride’s unexpected exit. I raised my voice, “Additionally, all wedding gifts will be returned twofold. Thank you again for coming.” With that, I bowed and walked off the stage, my steps feeling incredibly light.

Scarlett and I hadn’t formally registered our marriage, and all our friends and family knew it. It wasn’t that I was unwilling. She insisted on testing me for another two years. Now, I was incredibly grateful for her decision. After all, divorce wasn’t an easy process. As I reached the last step, my parents came rushing towards me. “Son, is what you said true? Have you really thought this through?” my mom asked excitedly, grabbing my hand. She had always felt Scarlett and I were a bad match. Forget our family backgrounds, the main thing was she simply didn’t hold me in her heart. But between us, I was always the one who loved more. My mom wasn’t happy about it, but she never forced her interference. At this moment, she looked at me with hopeful eyes, wanting to confirm if her wish had finally come true. My dad pulled her back, calmly saying, “He’s just saying angry things, don’t take him seriously. One call from her and he’d be crawling back, tail between his legs. You always believe him.” The disappointment and helplessness in his tone were palpable. Most people present probably thought the same as my dad. The light in my mom’s eyes instantly faded. She murmured, “You’re right.” In that moment, my heart clenched, a sharp, piercing pain. When I had no bottom line in love, constantly giving in, wasn’t that also a torment for my family, who loved me so much? “This time, it’s real. Trust me.” I held my parents’ hands, promising them. “…Hmm, we trust you.” They fell silent, then patted me dismissively. Their expressions clearly showed they didn’t believe me. And why would they? Scarlett had abandoned me for Brandon 100 times, and I had forgiven her 99 times. My track record of always forgiving her made my promise sound utterly hollow. But it didn’t matter. I would prove myself eventually.

As our family of three chatted, Scarlett’s parents approached. “Julian, really, why say such angry things on stage? “If you upset Scarlett, you’ll just have to sweet-talk her later, won’t you? “How about this: you help me secure that property deal in the East District, and I’ll put in a good word for you.” The paunchy, arrogant man standing before me was Scarlett’s father, Patrick Hayes. There was a time when he would grovel and fawn over me. Now, he was practically walking all over me. All because of my indulgence and endless concessions to Scarlett. “Mr. Hayes, Scarlett and I have ended our engagement. I don’t need you to put in a good word for me with her. “I won’t be helping with the property deal. Furthermore, Sterling Enterprises will cease all collaborations with your company, and all investments will be withdrawn.” His small, near-bankrupt company had only been revived with the support of Sterling Enterprises. But it seemed this whole family of ingrates had conveniently forgotten. Mr. Hayes’ face immediately turned sour, and he pointed a finger at my nose, yelling: “Fine, I won’t help you! Just you wait, you’ll come crawling back to my daughter, begging like a dog…” *Slap!* My mom slapped his oily face. “You insult my son again, and I’ll break your jaw!” She had always been gentle and kind, but at that moment, she was like a lioness protecting her cub. “I’m just stating facts, how is that an insult? Isn’t that exactly what your wonderful son has been doing all these years?” Mr. Hayes didn’t dare hit back, but his mouth wouldn’t quit. “What does it matter if you’re rich and powerful? With a son so utterly blinded by love, your family’s reputation is on the ground for me to trample…” I walked right up and dislocated his jaw, staring into his eyes: “Get out.” He stumbled back a few steps in fright. Scarlett’s mother, Brenda Hayes, caught him, looking at me with disdain and certainty: “We’ll be waiting for you, your whole family, to come and apologize.” With that, she dragged Mr. Hayes away, strutting off as if she’d won. My parents looked at me in shock, then with apprehension. “We’re not going with you to apologize.” “I’m not going either,” I swore. They fell silent.

Just after seeing off a wave of guests, my assistant approached: “Mr. Sterling, should the PR department handle the trending topics and online buzz?” I checked online. The discussion about this wedding was off the charts. Several hashtags were at the top of the trending list. #ScarlettHayesRunawayBride #ScarlettHayesDumpsJulianForBrandonAtWedding #JulianSterlingAnnouncesEngagementOff … Scarlett Hayes’ fans were having a field day: “So satisfying! That’s my girl, Scarlett! The Sterling heir is nothing but a dog to her. Our queen just dumped him. Give him face? Not a chance.” “Looks like the fated prince charming still can’t beat the childhood sweetheart. The Sterling heir had to practically grovel for this wedding, but our girl ran off with one wave from her childhood friend.” “Oh, look, the Sterling heir is actually talking tough now. I bet he’ll be on his knees begging Scarlett within three days.” “Poor Sterling heir, after all these years he didn’t even get an official title, just the reputation of a pathetic simp. My girl Scarlett is truly a boss!” “Scarlett was right not to legally register the marriage. She can walk away anytime. Even with so many important people at the wedding, our girl still did what she wanted.” “So what if he’s the Sterling heir? In our girl’s eyes, he’s just a plaything. Scarlett is living the ultimate female lead power fantasy!” … The screen was filled with such comments. Even though Scarlett was clearly in the wrong, her fans cleverly spun it as a bold act of female empowerment, making their idol untouchable. A few sensible bystanders dared to comment amidst the chaos: “Fans, don’t you think you’re being a bit too arrogant? Your ‘queen’ is where she is today thanks to the Sterling heir throwing money at her career. Otherwise, with her average looks and mediocre acting, she wouldn’t have made it.” Fans immediately jumped on them: “Get lost! Scarlett made it this far all on her own. Stop giving credit to that臭男人 (stinky man), he only ever held our girl back!” Like idol, like fans. They were just as cold-hearted and ungrateful. I was the one who took Scarlett from being a nobody in the entertainment industry to a trending young actress. If I could raise her up, I could certainly pull her down. “No need to deal with the online comments. Leave them all up. Freeze Scarlett Hayes out. Replace her in all her projects. If they can’t be replaced, terminate the contracts. I’ll cover the penalty fees.” Scarlett’s management contract was with a production company under Sterling Enterprises, and it still had two years left. I wasn’t completely cutting her off, after all, the contract terms were fairly loose, and the penalty fees wouldn’t be a huge burden for Scarlett. My assistant looked at me in surprise, then cautiously spoke: “Mr. Sterling, I’m sorry, I didn’t quite hear that.” “Do exactly as Mr. Sterling said. Even if he changes his mind, I’m here. You won’t be implicated,” my dad interjected. “Thank you, Chairman Sterling.” The assistant immediately went to execute the orders. Just then, Scarlett’s call came through: “Brandon’s been arrested! Get him out for me, and clean up this mess.” Her tone was icy, like she was giving orders to a subordinate. I frowned, hung up, and blocked her number. Soon, an unknown number called, and it was Scarlett again: “Julian Sterling, what do you mean by this? Brandon only got into that fight because of me! Because that guy was slandering me!”

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