A friend of Theodore Shaw’s had gotten his hands on a micro-expression polygraph from overseas and egged everyone on to test who Theodore loved most right there in the private room. Everyone thought that after I had lowered myself and played the obedient fiancee at Theodore’s side for four years, even a stone should have warmed by now. At the very least, his heart should have stirred a little. But when my photo appeared on the big screen, the green line on the polygraph stayed as flat as a dead pond. And when Lily Vance’s photo appeared, his heart rate shot straight up to 150. His friends mocked me one after another. “The second the one who got away comes back, the stand-in is scrapped on the spot!” I sat in the corner, perfectly calm. They thought I was swallowing humiliation for love, but they had no idea there was a translucent panel hanging above my head that only I could see. [Countdown: 30 days.] Ethan Cole, wait for me. If I endure just 30 more days, I can take the mission reward and go back to save you.

Jocelyn Reed’s POV “Beep—” The sharp alert from the machine rang out inside the VIP private room, sounding especially piercing to my ears. “Heart rate sixty-five. Not even a ripple, Theodore!” The rich heirs around him stared at the polygraph and burst into undisguised laughter. I looked toward Theodore Shaw, who was sitting in the center of the sofa. He tugged at his tie, his deep-set brows and eyes carrying a careless arrogance. Polygraph sensor pads were still stuck to his skin, and my portrait filled the large display screen. Someone who apparently had no fear of death kept stirring things up. “Then switch to another photo and try again?” The image on the big screen flashed. My photo disappeared, replaced by a picture of a girl with a bright, radiant smile. Lily Vance. Theodore’s first love. The woman who had gone abroad for further studies for a full three years. She was also the one who got away, the woman he had always kept at the very tip of his heart. “Beep, beep, beep, beep!” The alarm instantly became rapid. The heart-rate number on the screen soared all the way from 65 to 120. The red peaks jumped violently, exposing the test subject’s uncontrollable heartbeat at that moment. The private room fell eerily silent for one second. Then even harsher whistles erupted. “Holy hell, this polygraph doesn’t lie! Theodore, your heart’s screaming what you refuse to say out loud.” “I told you, didn’t I? Jocelyn Reed has been running herself ragged at Theodore’s side as his fiancee and free nanny for four years, and in the end, she still can’t compare to a single photo of Lily Vance!” Theodore did not get angry. Instead, he let out a low laugh. He casually tore the patches off his body and tossed them onto the coffee table, then turned to look at me, who had been standing quietly in the shadows the whole time. I was still holding a cup of freshly poured warm water, ready to soothe Theodore’s throat after he finished drinking. Not a flicker crossed my face, not even a flutter of my lashes—as if the woman being mocked in front of everyone was a stranger, not me. I knew Theodore hated this dead-water look of mine the most. He leaned back against the leather sofa, legs crossed, his gaze like he was assessing a useful object. “Did you hear that? The machine is honest.” In the most casual tone, he said the cruelest words. “Jocelyn Reed, you really have been obedient these past four years, and I’m used to having you around to handle everything. But habit is not a heartbeat.” “But don’t worry. Our wedding is next month. Since I promised to marry you, I’ll still give you the position of Mrs. Shaw. After all, I need a sensible wife.” As soon as he said that, the way everyone around us looked at me filled with ridicule and contempt. I had been publicly labeled as nothing more than an emotionless ornament. A shameless, pathetic woman who clung to him for the status of his wife. If it were any other woman, she would have slammed the door and left by now. But I did not. I walked forward and gently set the cup of warm water, exactly forty degrees, beside Theodore’s hand. My voice was mild. “Your stomach isn’t good. Drink less iced wine.” The people in the room looked at one another. Then even louder laughter burst out. “Holy shit, she really is the ultimate ninja turtle.” “Theodore, you trained her so well. She won’t hit back or talk back no matter what!” Theodore seemed very satisfied with my reaction. He picked up the cup and took a sip. Just as he was about to speak, the phone on the table suddenly vibrated. The screen flashed: Lily Vance. Theodore’s expression changed instantly. He shot to his feet. Because he moved too abruptly, he knocked over the cup of water I had just placed on the table. Warm water splashed all over me, but Theodore did not even glance at me. He answered the call and strode outside. “Lily? You returned to the country? Wait for me at the airport. I’m coming right now!” The door to the private room slammed shut with a bang. To pick up Lily, Theodore left me behind in the private room without a second thought. “The real woman he loved is back. Looks like the good days are over for certain stand-ins.” The crowd mocked me mercilessly as they left. I pulled out a tissue and unhurriedly wiped the water stains from my clothes. I did not feel even the slightest bit sad. I merely lifted my head quietly and looked at the translucent countdown panel in midair, visible only to me. [System Alert: 30 days until the wedding mission checkpoint.] “Thirty days.” I tugged coldly at the corner of my mouth and repeated silently in my heart, “If I endure 30 more days, I can take the mission reward and go back to save my Ethan Cole.”

Jocelyn Reed’s POV On the first day after Lily Vance returned to the country, Theodore summoned me with a phone call to a deep-diving club downtown. The moment I pushed open the door to the private deep-diving area, the damp air rushing toward me made my breathing abruptly seize. Ahead was an extreme deep-diving pool fifteen meters deep. My body trembled slightly beyond my control. I had severe underwater claustrophobia. Because in my world, the man I loved most, Ethan Cole, had lifted me onto the shore during a flood. He himself had been swept into a whirlpool, and to this day he still lay in the ICU in a vegetative state. “How long are you going to stand there?” Theodore’s impatient voice cut through my instinctive terror. I looked up and saw Theodore sitting on a lounge chair by the pool, his arm around the graceful Lily Vance. The group of rich heirs who had laughed at me in the private room last night were all gathered nearby, ready to watch the show. Lily nestled against Theodore’s chest, eyes glistening with feigned tears. She gestured toward the pitch-black pool bottom in a whiny, sugary tone. “The custom diamond earrings you gifted me two years ago slipped out of my hand down there. They’re your very first present to me—I can’t bear to lose them.” The water pressure at the bottom of the deep-diving pool was enormous. Normally, anyone going down had to wear professional scuba gear. But Theodore did not call a lifeguard. Instead, he looked straight at me. “Jocelyn Reed, aren’t you always saying that to marry me, you’d be willing to do anything?” Theodore pointed to the bottom of the pool, fifteen meters down. “Lily’s earrings fell in. Go down without a wetsuit and without an oxygen tank, and retrieve them.” The people around us sucked in a breath. “Holy shit, Theodore is going this far? Diving fifteen meters bare-handed? If she hasn’t had professional training, her lungs could burst, right?” “This isn’t about finding something. This is Theodore laying down the rules for Lily!” I bit hard on my paling lower lip, my nails nearly digging into my palms. I looked at Theodore’s arrogant face, my voice a little hoarse. “I don’t know how to dive.” “You don’t know how to dive?” Lily gave a soft laugh from the side. “If Ms. Reed doesn’t want to retrieve them, then forget it. After all, they’re only a pair of earrings worth a few million. It’s just a shame… Theodore told me yesterday that next month’s wedding is going to be held on an island. If Ms. Reed is even afraid of this little bit of water, I’m afraid the wedding can’t happen, can it?” She was using the wedding to threaten me. That was my greatest weakness. Without the wedding, my mission would fail completely, and Ethan Cole would never wake up. Theodore looked at my rigid body, and a trace of mockery flashed through his eyes. “Exactly. If you can’t retrieve them, next month’s wedding will be postponed indefinitely. In any case, Theodore Shaw’s wife cannot be a useless woman who isn’t even willing to do this tiny thing for me.” In Theodore’s eyes, I loved him to the bone. As long as he said the word, I would even throw away my life, let alone get into some water. I looked at the blood-red countdown on the panel and closed my eyes. “Fine. I’ll retrieve them.” I did not even take off my coat. I went in wearing my white shirt and suit pants. Under the shocked, eager-to-watch stares of the crowd, I jumped without hesitation into the fifteen-meter-deep pool. “Splash!” The icy water instantly swallowed me over my head. The violent sensation of weightlessness crushed my chest like madness. I almost convulsed underwater. My ears screamed with sharp pain from the water pressure. The air in my lungs was squeezed out bit by bit, and a strong taste of blood rose in my throat. I could not die. I could not fail. Ethan Cole was still waiting for me. Forcing myself to hold on to my last breath, I found the glittering earring at the bottom of the pool. “Splash!” I broke through the surface and grabbed the handrail at the edge, climbing onto shore. I was in a miserable state. My soaked clothes clung tightly to my body. I shook all over from the cold and coughed violently. The surroundings fell silent for a moment. Even that group of rich heirs was frightened by my ruthless, life-risking resolve. With a trembling hand, I held the earring out to Theodore. Word by word, I asked, “The wedding will go on as planned, right?” Theodore looked at my bloodless face, and his expression shifted. But he quickly suppressed that strange feeling. He took the earring, turned around, and gently put it on Lily. “Of course. After all, you’re so obedient.” Theodore did not even hand me a towel. He only cast a cold glance at the water dripping beneath my feet, his brows tightly furrowed, his tone full of disgust. “You made the floor filthy. Go dry your clothes yourself.” After saying that, he wrapped an arm around Lily and, surrounded by the crowd, left the deep-diving area without looking back. In the empty venue, a cold wind blew through. I collapsed onto the floor tiles, clutching my arms tightly, my head filling with wave after wave of dizziness so intense it felt like it would split open. [System Alert: Wedding progress remains unaffected. Countdown: 28 days.] Listening to the voice in my mind, I pulled a weak smile at the corner of my mouth. Then my vision went completely black, and I lost consciousness.

Jocelyn Reed’s POV When I woke again, I was already lying in a hospital. The mild pulmonary edema from deep diving and the high fever caused by near-drowning had drained almost all my strength. I struggled to open my eyes, only to discover, unexpectedly, that the man sitting beside the bed and reading documents was Theodore. Hearing the movement, Theodore closed the tablet in his hands. His deep, cold eyes locked onto me. The pressure in the hospital room was extremely low, as if the air itself had congealed. Theodore did not ask how I was feeling. He simply spoke in a gloomy voice. “Who is Ethan Cole?” My body stiffened violently, and my heart missed a beat. The background information the system had forged for me in this world was flawless. Ethan Cole’s name should never have appeared. “Your fever reached thirty-nine point five degrees Celsius. You were unconscious for a full day and night.” Theodore stood up and approached me, carrying an intense sense of pressure. “During that entire day and night, you didn’t say anything except cry and keep calling Ethan Cole’s name, telling him not to leave.” Theodore’s long fingers suddenly gripped my chin, forcing me to lift my head and meet his gaze. “Jocelyn Reed, Theodore Shaw’s fiancee, crying her heart out in her dreams for another man. Don’t you plan to explain?” There was no pity in his eyes for his seriously ill fiancee. Instead, there was a jealousy he himself had not even noticed. I knew what he was thinking. He believed that for the past four years, my entire heart and world had been filled with him. How could I, how dare I, think of another man’s name when I was at my weakest? Inside, my heart was in turmoil. But on the surface, my eyes remained completely calm. “He’s no one important.” My voice was hoarse as I lied without a ripple. “When I was in college, I used to take private translation jobs in my spare time. I translated a foreign tragedy novel once. The supporting male character was named Ethan Cole. He drowned in a flood saving the female lead. I was only dreaming.” “A dead supporting character in a novel?” Theodore narrowed his eyes dangerously, clearly only half believing this answer. “Yes.” I looked at him coldly, and there was even a self-mocking curve at the corner of my mouth. “Or did Mr. Shaw think that a woman like me, who will do anything to climb into the Shaw family, could still have some unforgettable one who got away in her heart?” That sentence greatly pleased Theodore. The hand gripping my chin let go. Theodore wiped his hand with a disinfectant wet wipe in disgust. “Whether that Ethan Cole is someone from a novel or something else, since you want to be Mrs. Shaw, there can only be one person in your mind. Me.” “I don’t allow my things to be tainted with the slightest trace of anyone else.” Just then, the door to the hospital room was pushed open, and Lily Vance walked in. She glanced at me lying weakly in the hospital bed. A trace of unconcealed smugness flashed through her eyes. Then she sweetly hooked her arm through Theodore’s. “Theodore, why are you still here? Didn’t you promise to go with me to choose the bridesmaid dress for the wedding?” Lily pouted and acted spoiled. “Since Ms. Reed is awake, she probably won’t die. Let’s go.” I had been hospitalized with a high fever because of him, yet he was going to accompany his first love to pick out a bridesmaid dress. “Fine. Let’s go.” Theodore did not hesitate in the slightest and clasped Lily’s hand in return. When he reached the doorway, his footsteps paused. Without turning back, he left me with one cold, hard sentence. “Lily is holding a welcome-home banquet next week. As my fiancee, you’ll be in charge of organizing it.” The door closed. I looked at the empty hospital room and listened to the sound pulsing from the system panel. [Countdown: 27 days.] I slowly closed my eyes. At last, one warm tear slid from the corner of my eye. It was the first tear I had shed in the four years since I came to this world. “Ethan Cole…” I silently called to him in my heart. “Wait for me another twenty-seven days. After twenty-seven days, I will bring you home.”

Jocelyn Reed’s POV As soon as my high fever subsided, I forced myself to return to Theodore’s villa and began preparing Lily’s welcome-home banquet. Three days later, inside the villa’s private fitting room, Lily held a measuring tape and put on an act as she measured around my body. “I’m tired of all those haute couture gowns from top luxury brands. This time, I want to personally design a suit for Theodore, and then make myself a matching gown.” Lily smiled sweetly toward Theodore, who was sitting on the sofa not far away and handling documents. “Theodore, I just haven’t been able to find a draping model with the right measurements. Ms. Reed’s figure is rather similar to mine. Why not let her be my human fitting mannequin for a few days?” Theodore did not even lift his head. His fingers flew across the laptop keyboard, his tone casual. “Do whatever makes you happy. As long as she doesn’t make you angry.” I was told to take off my coat and stand ramrod straight on the round platform in the center of the fitting room wearing only a thin, fitted silk blouse. Lily took a box of straight pins and began draping fabric on me. “Hold perfectly still, Ms. Reed. Fabric draping demands flawless precision. The tiniest shift will ruin every fold I’ve laid out.” A malicious light glittered in Lily’s eyes. She drove the dress pin straight through the fabric and my thin silk top, sinking the sharp metal deep into my left shoulder. “Hiss—” The pain made me suck in a sharp breath, and my body instinctively shrank back. “Oh my, why is Ms. Reed so delicate?” Lily cried out in surprise. Not only did she fail to pull the pin out, she pressed it in even deeper. “I told you not to move. Look, the fabric is crooked now!” For the next full three hours, Lily deliberately stabbed straight pins into my shoulder, my waist, and my arm again and again. My legs went numb from standing. Cold sweat poured from my entire body. On my white silk blouse, faint dots of crimson blood had already seeped through, like red plum blossoms blooming one after another. I bit through my lip and forced myself not to move. Because the bottom line of the system mission was this: before the wedding, I absolutely could not anger Theodore and cause the wedding to be canceled. I looked coldly at Theodore on the sofa ahead of me. He could clearly see the bloodstains on my blouse. He could clearly hear the breaths I was swallowing back in pain. But he merely turned a page of his document and spoke flatly. “Bear with it. Lily has an artist’s temper. Once this gown is finished, for your wedding next month, I’ll order you that wedding dress brand you like the most.” Finally, Lily seemed to grow tired of playing and clapped her hands. “That’s enough for today.” I stepped down from the platform, ignored the bloody punctures on my body, and began expressionlessly cleaning up the scraps of fabric on the floor. Lily Vance looked at my lifeless expression and suddenly seemed to lose interest. Then her eyes shifted, and another idea came to her. “Theodore, I remember there’s a private kitchen in the southern suburbs whose truffle congee is amazing. I want that.” The southern suburbs were a full forty kilometers from the hillside villa. A round trip would take at least two hours. If it snowed heavily tonight, the roads would be extremely dangerous. Theodore frowned. He looked at me, and I knew he thought it was going too far too. But his need for control still won out. “Jocelyn Reed,” Theodore ordered. “Go buy it. Lily wants it hot.” I stopped what I was doing. The straight pins still stuck in my shoulder throbbed faintly. I knew Lily was deliberately making things difficult for me, but I only nodded calmly. “Okay.” I picked up the car keys and did not even change out of the bloodstained shirt before walking straight out of the villa. Watching me leave, Lily leaned smugly into Theodore’s arms. “Theodore, look at her. She really is so obedient. If you told her to go eat snow, she wouldn’t even hesitate, would she?” I looked back once. Theodore was not looking at me. He was staring at the darkening sky outside the door, his brows tightly furrowed, as if he felt irritated. But in the end, he only gave a cold laugh. “She went to such lengths to become Mrs. Shaw. Of course she has to pay the price. She’ll get used to it.” Two hours later, the wind howled, and the heavy snow arrived right on schedule. I was driving across an empty suburban overpass when I heard a dull, abnormal sound from the engine. The car broke down completely, stopping on a stretch of road with nothing in front of me and nothing behind me. And at that moment, my phone had only 2% battery left.

Jocelyn Reed’s POV The snowstorm outside the car window grew stronger and stronger, the goose-feather flakes nearly blotting out my vision. Temperatures plummeted to ten below zero Fahrenheit. I sat in the broken-down car, every breath I exhaled turning into white mist. The wounds left by the straight pins had already scabbed over, but under the freezing wind pouring in, they turned purple from the cold. In the upper-right corner of my phone screen, the battery flashed a glaring red 1% warning. I took a deep breath and called Theodore. “Beep… beep…” The phone rang for a long time before it was answered. What came from the other end was not Theodore’s voice, but Lily’s sweet, flirtatious laugh and the elegant sound of violins in a French restaurant. “Ms. Reed? Did you get the salad? I’m really sorry. I suddenly felt that place’s salad was too bland, so I pestered Theodore into taking me out for French cuisine.” Lily’s voice carried unconcealed triumph. Then, faintly, Theodore’s low voice came through the phone. “Who is it? Eat the foie gras first. It’ll taste fishy once it gets cold.” My fingers tightened around the phone until my knuckles turned white. I had gone to the southern suburbs on this blizzard night to buy salad. And they were already sitting in a warm, luxurious restaurant, enjoying French cuisine. “Where’s Theodore?” My voice was strangely calm, without a trace of resentment. “My car broke down on the South Ring Elevated Road. There’s a blizzard outside, and the temperature is too low. I need help.” The other end went quiet for one second. Then Theodore took the phone. His tone was full of obvious impatience. “Jocelyn Reed, if your car broke down, call a tow truck yourself. I’m still having dinner with Lily. I don’t have time to deal with you.” “I can’t get through to the towing company. The snow is too heavy. They may not be able to come out.” I stated the facts calmly. “My phone has almost no battery left. Theodore, can you come pick me up? Or send your driver.” Theodore gave a cold laugh on the other end. “Jocelyn Reed, once is enough for a self-inflicted pity act. The South Ring Elevated Road is thirty kilometers from the restaurant. You want me to abandon Lily and run over there for the sake of your car?” “Figure out a way to get yourself back. If you really think it’s cold, get out and walk back.” “Beep—beep—beep—” The call was hung up without mercy. The next second, my phone screen went completely black. The temperature inside the car had already dropped until it was almost no different from outside. If I kept sitting in the car, I would definitely freeze to death tonight. System Alert: Countdown: 24 days. Vital signs are declining. Host, please take self-rescue measures. I silently glanced at the black phone screen. Then I made up my mind, pushed open the car door, and stepped onto the elevated road against the raging snowstorm. The South Ring Elevated Road was more than thirty kilometers long. There were no streetlights and nowhere to take shelter from the wind. All I had on was that thin shirt and a light trench coat that could not keep out the cold at all. I took my first shaky step onto the ice-slick pavement, wind slicing across my cheeks like razor blades. My heels slipped on the ice. I fell countless times, my knees bruised purple, my hands scraped open by the rough ice and snow. Blood mixed with icy water and froze on my fingertips. I did not know how long I walked. The blisters on the soles of my feet burst and were rubbed raw, then burst again. Every step felt like I was treading on knife points. But even that could not compare to the despairing pain I had felt when Ethan Cole’s heart stopped in the emergency room. For Ethan, I could endure anything. Four full hours. When I limped to the gate of the hillside villa, the sky had already begun to lighten. The villa was brightly lit. I pushed the door open and walked into the living room with the cold and the scent of blood clinging to me. Theodore was sitting on the sofa, holding a cup of hot coffee. When he heard the movement, he looked up at me, and his entire body suddenly froze. He looked at the woman before him, soaked through from head to toe, leaving bloody footprints on the carpet with every step, and his brows drew tightly together. A flash of shock crossed his eyes. I knew what he was shocked by. He thought I had said the car broke down to act spoiled. He thought I had said my phone was out of battery as an excuse. He thought I had taken a taxi back long ago, that I had merely found somewhere to hide outside so he would feel sorry for me. He had never imagined that I would really walk for four hours through a blizzard. “Are you insane?” Theodore abruptly stood up, a trace of panic in his voice that even he did not notice. “Jocelyn Reed, did you really walk back the whole way? Didn’t you know to find a convenience store and ask for help?!” I stood where I was and did not take a single step closer to him. My purple, frozen lips curved slightly. My eyes were empty and calm as I looked at him. “Theodore, you forgot. There are no convenience stores on the South Ring Elevated Road.” “You told me to figure out a way to get myself back. I got myself back.” My voice was very soft, yet it struck Theodore’s heart like a heavy hammer. “As long as the wedding happens as scheduled, it doesn’t matter even if I die on the road.” Theodore’s pupils suddenly contracted. He parted his lips, just about to say something. But a cry of surprise came from the stairs. “Oh my god! Theodore!”

Jocelyn Reed’s POV Lily ran down the second-floor stairs wrapped in Theodore’s robe. When she saw the state I was in, shock flashed through her eyes, but it was quickly replaced by thick jealousy and malice. I knew what she was thinking. She would never allow Theodore to feel even the slightest guilt toward me. “Ms. Reed, what happened to you? Didn’t Theodore tell you to take a taxi yourself? You didn’t have to walk back, did you?” Lily rushed down the stairs hypocritically and reached out to pull my arm. “Hurry and take a hot shower. You’re getting the carpet all dirty…” The instant Lily’s hand touched me, my body instinctively flinched from weakness, and I took half a step back. That step back did not touch Lily at all. But Lily seized the moment and let out a shrill scream. “Ah—!” Her whole body flew like a kite with its string cut, tumbling straight down the last few steps. Her forehead slammed hard into the marble floor, and crimson blood instantly seeped out. “Lily!” All of Theodore’s panic and that tiny bit of guilt that had just begun to form vanished in an instant. He rushed over like a madman and pulled Lily into his arms. “Lily, how are you?” Lily leaned weakly in Theodore’s arms, blood running down from her forehead, making her look all the more pitiful. Her eyes reddened as she pointed at me, her voice trembling. “Theodore… I only wanted to take her to shower. Why did she push me? It hurts so much…” I stood quietly where I was, watching her clumsy performance. I did not even have the desire to explain, because I knew Theodore’s eyes were blind, and his heart was biased. Sure enough. After Theodore settled Lily down, he suddenly stood up, strode to me in a few steps, and slammed me hard against the wall. A sense of suffocation swept over me instantly. I was already weak to the extreme. Now, with Theodore gripping me like he was holding a chick, I did not even have the strength to resist. “Jocelyn Reed! How did you grow such a vicious heart?” Theodore’s eyes were bloodshot, his handsome face turning savage with rage. He stared at me through gritted teeth. “When your self-inflicted pity act doesn’t work, you start trying to kill people, is that it? What did Lily ever do to you that you would hurt her like this?!” “I didn’t.” I forced the three words out from between my teeth, my voice hoarse beyond recognition. “You’re still arguing!” Theodore’s grip suddenly tightened. “I saw you push her with my own eyes! That scheming mind of yours, willing to do anything to climb up, is absolutely disgusting!” He suddenly released his hand. I slid to the floor like a piece of torn cloth, coughing violently and gulping down the freezing air. A shocking ring of blue-purple bruises immediately appeared around my neck. Theodore looked down at me from above, his gaze as cold as ice. “Jocelyn Reed, do you think using such low, dirty methods will let you sit securely in the position of Mrs. Shaw?” “Next month’s wedding is postponed indefinitely! Get out of my house. Without my permission, don’t even dream of stepping through the doors of Shaw Group again in this lifetime!” System Warning: A major change has occurred at the wedding mission checkpoint! If the wedding is completely canceled, the mission will be directly judged a failure! Countdown: 23 days. The piercing alarm echoed wildly in my mind. I sat collapsed on the icy floor, watching Theodore carry Lily away in long strides. Postponed indefinitely. That sentence was the same as sentencing Ethan Cole to death. My hands clenched the edge of the carpet so hard that my nails even snapped off at the roots, and blood seeped into the carpet. “No.” My eyes turned ruthless. “The wedding must happen as scheduled!”

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The iPad screen lit up on the study desk. “Ethan, the copyright transfer and design attribution for the ‘Galaxy’ collection are fully processed. At tomorrow’s launch event, Chloe will be officially introduced as the Chief Designer of the Miller Group.” I stared at the screen, my mind going completely blank. Chloe was Ethan’s ultimate muse, the one that got away. The sound of the shower in the bathroom stopped. Ethan walked out, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind. He rested his chin on my shoulder, his voice thick with post-shower warmth. “Babe, what are you just standing here in the dark?” I lowered my eyes, my fingers gripping the spoon so hard my knuckles turned white. “Nothing. Just a bit of a stomachache.” He kissed the crown of my head gently. “Once the launch is over tomorrow, I’m taking you to Tahiti for a vacation.” I said nothing. I only knew that in three days, at my birthday party, he planned to broadcast a humiliating video of me begging him on my knees to the entire high society of New York. He wanted to destroy me completely. So I had already deleted every single backup on his phone, emptied his cloud trash, and blocked all his contacts. Ethan, your little hunting game ends tonight.

Aria POV I was once known as the prodigy of the jewelry design world. At nineteen, I won the International Gold Award in Paris. My future should have been limitless. But the most foolish thing I ever did was give up my fellowship in Paris for Ethan Miller. I chose to stay hidden by his side for three whole years. For three years, I lived like a shadow in this luxury villa under his name, working as his hidden designer for his family business, the Miller Group. The only reason Miller Jewelry rose so fast in the market, even overshadowing my brother Julian’s firm, the Sterling Vaughan Enterprises, was because of my designs. Today was our third anniversary. The kitchen was filled with a rich aroma. I had spent hours making Ethan’s favorite wild mushroom cream soup. Holding the delicate bowl, I walked quietly up to the second-floor study. Ethan had just returned and was taking a shower. The muffled sound of running water leaked through the frosted glass door. On the desk, Ethan’s iPad kept buzzing. The notifications were relentless. I didn’t mean to spy, but as I set the bowl down, the preview on the lock screen caught my eye. It felt like a knife twisting straight into my chest. The message was from Ethan’s best friend, Zachary. “Ethan, the paperwork for the ‘Galaxy’ collection is done. Chloe is going to present it tomorrow at the press conference as Miller’s new Chief Designer. The press releases are ready. She’s going to be a star overnight.” “If Julian Vaughan finds out his precious, sheltered little sister has been your free labor for three years, and that her masterpiece is going to his rival’s fiancée, he’ll probably have a stroke on the spot!” “Brilliant move, man. You’ve been fighting her brother for years, and now Julian is ruined by his own sister. Aria really helped you steal some major clients from Vaughan Enterprises these past three years.” I stood frozen by the desk. It felt like all the blood had been drained from my body. The “Galaxy” collection was the result of countless sleepless nights. I had revised the blueprints hundreds of times, even ending up in the ER with stomach bleeding from pure exhaustion. It was supposed to be my third-anniversary gift to Ethan. The concept was “Loving you across the galaxy.” Now, it was going to Chloe. His actual fiancée. I stared at the screen until Ethan’s reply popped up. It was only one cold sentence. “She’s just a pawn to destroy Julian Vaughan. Keep an eye on her until the launch tomorrow. Don’t let her suspect anything.” My brain buzzed. Total silence. Every sweet word, every promise over the last three years. It was all a beautifully crafted lie. The car accident where he “saved” me in the pouring rain, his gentle care, his deep confessions… all of it was just a sick, twisted plot to get revenge on my brother. The shower water suddenly stopped. I snapped back to reality, forced myself to turn around, and faced away from the desk. I dug my nails into my palms, using the physical pain to keep myself from screaming. The door opened, and Ethan walked out in a black silk robe. Water droplets slid down his chiseled chest. His dark eyes, always filled with apparent warmth, locked onto me. “Babe, why are you standing there like a statue?” He walked up, naturally wrapping his arms around my waist, burying his face in my neck. He took a deep breath of my chamomile perfume. “The soup smells amazing. Thank you, babe.” His voice was low, raspy, and incredibly seductive. Just like always. But my body shivered uncontrollably. A wave of intense nausea hit me. Just minutes ago, I was looking forward to our anniversary. Now, feeling his touch made me feel like I was holding a corpse. “What’s wrong? Are you cold? Why are you shaking?” Ethan noticed my reaction. He turned me around, placing his warm hand on my forehead, his eyes full of worry. He was such a good actor. Looking at his handsome, concerned face, I felt my heart shatter into a million jagged pieces. Ethan, how could you act so well? You made me look like the ultimate fool, willingly handing you the dagger to stab my own brother. “I’m fine.” I lowered my gaze, hiding the tears. “Just a bit tired from drawing lately. My stomach is acting up.” Ethan let out a soft laugh and kissed my forehead. “Once the launch is over tomorrow and ‘Galaxy’ hits the market, I’ll give you a long break. I’ll take you to Tahiti. You’ve always wanted to go, right?” I forced a pale smile but said nothing.

Aria POV The next day, at the Manhattan International Convention Center. The launch event for the Miller Group was spectacular. Hundreds of media cameras were lined up, and almost every prominent figure in New York’s high society was in attendance. It wasn’t just a jewelry launch; it was Ethan’s declaration of dominance over the market. I wore an oversized black trench coat and a baseball cap, blending into the dark corner at the back of the hall. On stage, the man who held my heart for three years stood holding a microphone. Ethan looked incredibly sharp in his custom black tuxedo. His presence was commanding, effortless. He smiled, elegantly holding the hand of the woman next to him, and announced to the flashing cameras: “Today, I want to introduce the brilliant mind behind the ‘Galaxy’ collection, our future Chief Designer, and my fiancée, Miss Chloe Sinclair.” The crowd erupted into thunderous applause. Chloe wore a breathtaking, custom-made star-patterned gown. Around her neck was the centerpiece necklace of my “Galaxy” collection. She smiled with pure vanity, leaning close to Ethan. The giant screens began to display the design drafts. Every line I drew, every diamond cut calculation, even the tiny shorthand notes I made to myself. Everything was on display. The host spoke enthusiastically: “Miss Sinclair spent years studying in Paris, and this collection perfectly bridges modern European aesthetics with…” I watched quietly. I watched another woman steal my soul’s work, and the man I loved drive a stake through my heart. I didn’t cry. I didn’t run on stage to make a scene. When the pain goes deep enough, tears feel useless. I just felt cold. A deep, bone-chilling cold that numbed my entire existence. I turned around and walked toward the backstage exit. I needed to breathe. As I passed the VIP green room, the door was slightly ajar. I heard laughing inside. Zachary’s voice was unmistakable. “Ethan, you’re ruthless. Giving Aria’s work to Chloe just like that? Aren’t you afraid she’ll find out and throw a fit? She spent six months on those drafts.” “So what?” Ethan’s lazy voice drifted out, followed by the metallic click of a lighter. He sounded completely indifferent. “She loves me so much she’d die for me. Even if she finds out, a few sweet words and a limited-edition Birkin bag will keep her quiet. What else does she have besides me?” “True. Julian Vaughan really has a stupid sister. She cut off her family for you. When are you dumping her anyway? The Sinclairs are pushing for the wedding date.” “No rush,” Ethan chuckled, blowing out a stream of smoke. “Next week is her birthday. I’ve prepared a ‘grand gift’ for her. I’m going to let all of New York see the proud Vaughan heiress begging on her knees like a dog, pleading with me not to leave her. I’m going to break Julian Vaughan’s back once and for all.” Outside the door, I bit my lip so hard that the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. I didn’t push the door open. I didn’t make a sound. I stood straight, turned, and walked out of the convention center. The sky was pitch black, and a sudden storm began to pour. Cold rain drenched me instantly, but it was nothing compared to the ice in my heart. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I hadn’t called in three years. It rang once and was picked up instantly. “Aria?” My brother Julian’s voice trembled with disbelief, almost afraid that if he spoke too loud, I would hang up. Hearing his voice, my fake strength shattered. Tears streamed down my face, mixing with the rain. “Julian…” I sobbed, my voice breaking. “I want to come home.” The line went silent for two seconds. Then, Julian’s voice came back, steady, powerful, and thick with protective rage. “I’m sending the private jet to JFK right now. Aria, Boston is always your home. I’ve built you the best design lab in New England, and I’ve already set you up with a fiancé who will actually cherish you. Come home, baby sister. Stop hurting.” I closed my eyes, letting the rain wash over my face. “Okay. I’m coming home.”

Aria POV Back at the villa that had been my prison for three years, I took a hot shower to wash away the cold. I put on some clean clothes and sat at the vanity, looking at my pale face and empty eyes. I took out a piece of paper and calmly made a checklist. Resign. Pack. Delete everything related to Ethan. Leave New York. I grabbed some heavy-duty black trash bags from the closet and started throwing things away. The matching couple cups? Trashed. The cashmere scarf I hand-knitted for him that he never wore? Trashed. The expensive but thoughtless jewelry he had his assistant buy to pacify me? All of it went straight into the trash bags. I worked like a machine. No tears, no hesitation. Just disgust. By evening, Ethan came home. He smelled of whiskey, clearly having celebrated at the afterparty. He loosened his tie and walked into the living room. When he saw the massive trash bags piled by the door, his brows furrowed. He walked up behind me and hugged me out of habit. “Babe, what is all this? Why are you throwing things out? Don’t like them anymore?” I didn’t pull away. I let him hold me, my voice as flat as dead water. “I’m bored of them. They take up too much space. I want new things.” Ethan probably thought I was throwing a tantrum about the launch. After all, the news was everywhere. He chuckled, reached into his suit, and pulled out an unlimited black card, slipping it into my hand. His voice was gentle but carried the arrogance of a master throwing a bone to a dog. “I know today was hard on you, babe. But Chloe just got back, and the Miller Group needs the Sinclair family’s backing. She needed a launchpad. You’re my girl, you don’t need those petty titles. You’ll still run the design team behind the scenes. Be good, okay? Take the card and buy whatever bags or diamonds you want.” I looked down at the cold piece of plastic. It was hilarious. He stole my work, claimed my designs as his, and crushed my pride. And he thought a credit card could fix it. What was I to him? Just a well-kept pet. “Okay,” I said quietly, tossing the card onto the side table. Ethan was pleased with my obedience. He kissed my hair. “Next week is your birthday. I’m hosting a huge party for you at ‘Midnight’. I’ve invited the biggest names in New York. I have a huge surprise for you.” I kept my eyes down to hide the sheer hatred in them. A surprise? More like a public execution to humiliate me and my brother. The next day, Ethan went to the office. But the villa welcomed an uninvited guest, Chloe. Chloe walked in wearing six-inch Louboutins, strutting like she owned the place. She looked at me sitting on the couch with pure disgust. “Aria, why are you still here? Didn’t you watch the news? Ethan is marrying me. A side-chick like you should pack up and get lost.” I turned a page of my book, not even looking up. “Congratulations. The door is behind you. I won’t see you out.” My calm attitude drove her crazy. “What are you acting high and mighty for?” Chloe rushed over, snatching the book from my hands and slamming it to the floor. “You think Ethan loves you? You’re just a tool to hurt your brother! To him, you’re cheaper than a street girl! And guess what? Your precious designs have my name on them now. How does that feel?” “Are you done?” I finally looked up, staring at her with pity. “If you’re done, get out. You’re getting grease on my floor.” Chloe’s face twisted in rage. Her eyes locked onto a glass display case nearby. Inside was a vintage violin. It was my eighteenth birthday gift from Julian, bought at a prestigious auction in London. It was my most prized possession. A wicked smirk played on Chloe’s lips. She marched over and shoved the display case with all her might. Crash! The thick glass shattered across the floor. The priceless violin slammed onto the hardwood, its strings snapping with a screeching sound. The wooden body split wide open, ruined forever. I stood up, my face instantly pale, blood rushing to my head.

Aria POV “Oh my, I’m so sorry. I lost my balance. My hand slipped.” Chloe covered her mouth, her apology dripping with fake sincerity and malicious joy. Looking at the broken violin, my fists clenched so hard my nails drew blood. That was the last piece of my family I had left in this cold house. Just then, the front door swung open, and Ethan stormed in. Seeing the shattered glass and the broken violin, his face darkened instantly. Chloe reacted in a split second. She instantly squeezed out tears, running to Ethan and grabbing his arm. “Ethan! Thank God you’re home. I just came to visit Aria and apologize about the design credit. But she has such a temper! She started screaming at me, told me to get out, and then she went crazy and smashed her own violin…” Ethan looked at the violin on the floor. He knew how much that instrument meant to me. He also knew exactly who Chloe was, and he knew damn well I would never destroy my brother’s gift. But he just stepped in front of Chloe, shielding her, and looked at me with cold disapproval. “Aria, enough,” Ethan’s voice was stern, full of authority. “Chloe came to see you, and you throw a tantrum? Even if you’re upset about yesterday, you don’t take it out on property, and you definitely don’t attack my guests.” I stood there, looking at the man I had loved for three years across the wreckage. No screaming. No tears. No explanations. Just a deep, exhausting sadness. “Ethan, that was the violin my brother gave me.” My voice was quiet, dead. “It’s just a violin!” Ethan snapped, his eyes cold. “I’ll buy you a better one from Europe tomorrow! Ten of them if you want! But your attitude right now is unacceptable. Apologize to Chloe. Now.” He wanted to break me. He wanted to show me that in his world, he was king, and I had to submit, no matter how badly I was hurt. I looked at him, and for the first time, I smiled. It was a cold, lifeless smile, like a rose freezing in the snow. “Okay. I’m sorry.” I didn’t fight back. I didn’t argue. I turned to Chloe, who was hiding behind him with a smug grin, and said flatly, “I apologize, Miss Sinclair. My bad. I shouldn’t have startled you.” Ethan froze. He expected me to cry, to beg him to believe me, to scream at Chloe. But my instant submission, my complete lack of emotion, rattled him. “Alright, Chloe, go home first,” Ethan said irritably, pulling his arm out of her grip and sending her away. The living room fell silent. Ethan stepped over the broken glass and reached out to hold me. “Babe, I…” I took a step back, dodging his touch. “I’m tired. I’m going to sleep.” I didn’t look at him as I walked upstairs, leaving him alone in the mess.

Aria POV For the next few days, I was terrifyingly quiet. I never mentioned the violin again, and I didn’t ask about Chloe. I ate on time, slept on time, as if nothing had happened. Until the third morning, when the HR department of the Miller Group received my formal resignation letter. When Ethan found out, he went ballistic. He canceled a major board meeting and drove back to the villa like a maniac. Bang! He kicked my bedroom door open. He stormed in, grabbed my wrist as I was organizing my desk, and slammed me against the wall. “Aria, what the hell are you doing? Resigning? Who gave you permission!” His eyes were bloodshot, veins popping on his forehead. I was forced to look up, my back aching against the hard wall. But my eyes remained calm. “I’m tired of designing. Since ‘Galaxy’ belongs to Chloe now, Miller Group doesn’t need me anymore.” “If you’re tired, stay home! I can afford to feed you! What is this nonsense about resigning?” Ethan’s grip on my jaw tightened, nearly crushing my bone. “Is this because of the violin? Or Chloe? I told you I’d make it up to you! What more do you want? Stop trying to manipulate me with this!” I didn’t struggle. I just looked at him. “I don’t want anything, Ethan. I’m just done.” The calmer I was, the angrier he became. He was used to my dependence, my warmth. He couldn’t stand this cold, detached version of me. “You’re not going anywhere!” Ethan growled, slamming his lips onto mine. It wasn’t a kiss of love. It was a violent, possessive bite. He didn’t let go until the taste of blood filled our mouths. “Listen to me, Aria. You are mine. You don’t leave unless I say so. I tore up your resignation. Behave yourself.” He slammed the door and left. Late that night. I lay in bed, listening to his steady breathing beside me. I opened my eyes, fully awake. I quietly got out of bed and picked up his phone from the nightstand. The passcode was my birthday. How ironic. He used my birthday as a password while planning to destroy my life. I unlocked it, opened his hidden folder, and typed in the same passcode. When the folder opened, my breath hitched. It was filled with videos of us over the past three years. Not sex tapes, but something worse. Mental torture. Videos of me crying, begging him not to leave me for Chloe. Videos of me holding a birthday cake I made from scratch, saying, “Ethan, I’ll love you forever.” Videos of me slumped over my desk, sleeping from exhaustion while he recorded and laughed quietly in the background. And in a group chat named “The Hunt,” the latest messages made my blood run cold. Zachary: “Ethan, the projectors for her birthday party at Midnight are set up. Once we play these clips on the big screen, all of New York will see the proud Vaughan heiress acting like a desperate dog for you.” “Man, I can’t wait to see Julian Vaughan’s face. He’s going to lose his mind! You really tamed his little sister.” Ethan’s reply: “Make sure it goes smoothly. I want Julian broken.” My hands shook, but my eyes were ice. I selected all the videos, hit delete, and then permanently cleared the trash bin. Next, I logged out of his accounts, wiping any trace of my access. I put the phone back and looked out the window at the dark New York skyline. Ethan, your little game is officially over. On my birthday. The weather in New York was surprisingly clear. I woke up early, packing my remaining essentials and my ID into a single black suitcase. I looked around the room one last time. This beautiful villa was nothing but a gilded cage. Ethan came out of the bathroom, drying his hair. When his eyes landed on my suitcase, his gaze went cold. “Where do you think you’re going?” He marched over, slamming his hand on the suitcase handle. I didn’t flinch. I looked him dead in the eye and said smoothly, “Just dropping some old clothes off at a donation center. It’s my birthday, so I thought I’d clear out the closet and buy some new things.” Ethan stared at me, trying to detect a lie. But my expression was flawless. Finally, he let go, stepping in to kiss my forehead. His tone returned to its usual fake warmth. “Good. Have the driver take you. Don’t be late for the party tonight at Midnight. I have a huge surprise for you. I’m going to let everyone know you belong to me.” I lowered my gaze to hide the sheer disgust. “Okay,” I whispered. Ethan smiled, satisfied, and went to get dressed. The moment he left, I grabbed my suitcase and walked out of the villa without looking back. I didn’t call his driver. I didn’t go to any donation center. I hailed a cab on the street and went straight to JFK Airport.

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My most desperate moment wasn’t when I saw my daughter’s face photoshopped onto a naked body. It wasn’t when the image went viral in a group chat full of high school boys. It was when we went to report it, and Mrs. Evans looked her in the eye and said, “Boys will be boys, sweetheart. It’s just a phase.” My seventeen-year-old daughter, Maya, was quiet, sweet, and had never hurt a soul in her life. She was secretly photographed in a bathroom stall, her face merged onto obscene nudes, and publicly humiliated in a group chat for three agonizing hours. And what did she get instead of justice? A cold warning from the school “not to blow this out of proportion,” and a freezing shoulder from her own father. “The more you scream, the more you ruin her. Who’s going to want her after this?” When everyone begged her to swallow the dirt, I chose to fight. Armed with nothing but voice recordings, screenshots, medical records, and a burning rage, I took the school to court. I dragged the bullies into the light. And I locked the man who once promised to “protect us from the world” out of our lives forever. 1 Elena Miller’s POV My seventeen-year-old daughter Maya’s face was cropped onto a naked woman’s body. Accompanied by the most disgusting, filthy comments, the image had been circulating in three different high school boys’ Snapchat groups for three hours. And yet, when her guidance counselor, Mrs. Evans, called me into her office, the first words out of her mouth behind closed doors were: “Mrs. Miller, listen. Boys at this age are just curious. It’s hormones. Let’s handle this privately. We don’t want to blow this out of proportion and ruin these young men’s college prospects, do we?” I stared at Mrs. Evans’s phone screen, the blood in my veins turning to ice. The first screenshot was taken from beneath a bathroom stall divider. The side of the face was crystal clear. It was my sweet, introverted Maya. The next image was a sickening, AI-generated nude, captioned: “Look at Maya from class 3. Absolute trash, but hot, right?” Below it was a waterfall of laughing emojis, throw-up faces, and thumbs-ups. “How long has this been out?” I whispered, my voice trembling with pure rage. “We’re still verifying the shares, but it has already spread to the senior class chats,” Mrs. Evans said smoothly, taking her phone back. She crossed her hands on her desk with an air of professional superiority. “My advice? Let’s bring the boys’ parents in for a quiet chat. A young girl’s reputation is fragile, Elena. If you call the police, this goes public. How is Maya supposed to show her face at school after that?” Her reputation. Fragile. When those bastards were passing her around like a joke, not a single person cared about Maya’s reputation! “I’m calling the police,” I said. I pulled out my phone and dialed 91

Mrs. Evans’s face fell instantly. She reached across the desk and grabbed my wrist, her voice dropping into a harsh threat. “Mrs. Miller! There is a protocol for this! The boy’s family owns a massive business in this city. They have deep pockets and serious connections. If you blindly call the cops now, have you thought about the consequences?!” Consequences? I violently slapped her hand away. I remembered the parent-teacher meeting last semester. This exact woman had stood at the podium, promising a “zero-tolerance policy on harassment.” But now that the bully had rich parents, “zero-tolerance” became “boys will be boys”? “Sneaking a camera into a girls’ bathroom and distributing non-consensual pornography is not a phase. It’s a felony!” I glared at her. “If those were your daughter’s naked photos, would you be asking me to sit down and have a friendly chat?!” Mrs. Evans’s expression hardened. Her patience was gone. “Since you are being so uncooperative, the school will not assist you further. I strongly advise against police involvement, and we will not be releasing any security footage or internal records to help your case.” I didn’t argue. I had never been more clear-headed in my life. Screaming at her would change nothing. The school had already chosen its side. I took a sharp step forward, snatched Mrs. Evans’s phone off her desk, and opened the Snapchat thread. I held up my own phone and immediately started recording a video of the screen. The usernames, the timestamps, the photoshopped images, the filthy comments. Click. Click. Click. “What do you think you’re doing?! That is private school property!” Mrs. Evans panicked, lunging to grab her phone back. I ignored her, quickly capturing dozens of screenshots. Combined with the voice recording I had started the moment I walked into her office, I gripped my phone like a lifeline. “Private property? No. This is the evidence that’s going to put them in handcuffs.” I slammed her office door behind me. The hallway was empty; the final bell had rung long ago. I dialed Maya’s number over and over. “The subscriber you are trying to reach is not available…” I didn’t know where Maya was. I didn’t know if she had already seen the disgusting things they were saying about her. The cold wind slapped my face as I walked out of the building. I clenched my fists. They wanted to bury this in a quiet office? In their dreams. 2 Elena Miller’s POV My hands were shaking as I hailed a cab to go find my daughter. By mid-afternoon, my phone buzzed. It was Mrs. Evans again. The moment I picked up, her voice was frantic. “Elena, you need to get to the downtown hospital emergency room right now! Someone sent the screenshots to Maya. She smashed her phone and locked herself in the hospital bathroom. She won’t come out!” My head spun. My mind went entirely blank. I screamed at the cab driver to step on the gas. The ER observation wing was at the end of a long, white hallway. The smell of bleach and antiseptic hit me like a solid wall. I ran through the doors and saw Chloe, Maya’s friend, crouching outside a room, her school hoodie stained with dirt. Chloe looked up, her eyes red and puffy. “Mrs. Miller… the whole school knows. Someone DM’ed the photos straight to Maya. She saw them, lost her mind, and threw her phone against the wall.” My feet glued to the floor. I looked past Chloe toward the half-open door of the hospital room. The bed was empty. But the bathroom door inside was shut tight. I walked over, my fingers touching the cold metal handle, and immediately heard the click of the lock from the inside. Then, the sound of Maya’s choked, desperate sobbing leaked through the wood. “Maya,” I said, my throat feeling like it was full of broken glass. “Open the door, baby.” No response. The crying stopped for a second, swallowed down by sheer panic, replaced by shallow, hyperventilating gasps. I slid down and sat on the edge of the empty hospital bed, feeling entirely drained. I looked at Chloe’s phone. The Snapchat groups were still going crazy. Someone had tagged Maya: “Is your mom gonna die of embarrassment when she sees this?” Right after, another photoshopped image popped up with a single caption: “Trash.” A string of laughing emojis followed. My fingers pressed against Chloe’s screen so hard my knuckles turned white. I systematically saved every single screenshot. Someone in the chat joked: “Did she actually kill herself or something?” The immediate reply: “Even better. Free show.” Just as I saved the last screenshot, my phone rang. The caller ID: Marcus Vance. For a second, I hesitated. But in that second, my mind flashed back to seventeen years ago in the delivery room. The man who had held my hand, eyes red, swearing he would protect us from anything, was now looking at this tragedy with nothing but cold, upper-class indifference. I pressed accept. “Don’t make a scene out of this, Elena,” Marcus’s voice was flat, totally devoid of warmth. “If this gets out, it ruins everyone.” No “How is our daughter?” No “Is Maya hurt?” Not even “What did they do to her?” “Don’t make a scene” was the first thing out of his mouth. My heart felt like it was being carved out by a dull knife. “Do you have any idea where Maya is right now? She is locked in a hospital bathroom, terrified to even make a sound while she cries!” The line went silent for two seconds. Then Marcus sighed, his tone dripping with irritation. “It’s just high school boys being boys. You making a big deal out of this only feeds their attention.” I listened to his corporate, polished excuses while my daughter’s muffled, agonizing cries echoed from the bathroom. The contrast made me physically sick. Marcus continued, “If you keep pushing this, it’s going to affect the custody agreement. You know how that works.” I pulled the phone away from my ear, hit the record button to save the call, and hung up. The crying in the bathroom shifted. I leaned my forehead against the wooden door and spoke softly, but with a voice like iron. “Maya. You don’t have to come out right now. But I promise you, I will make them pay.” 3 Elena Miller’s POV When we finally got back to our apartment, Maya immediately locked herself in her bedroom. I stood outside her door, holding a plate of freshly cooked steak. The plate made a soft click as I set it down on the floor. “I’m leaving the food right here, sweetheart,” I said to the closed door. Not a single sliver of light came from under the frame. Maya was so quiet she felt like a ghost. I went back to the living room and sank into the couch. My iMessage icon showed dozens of unread notifications. I tapped on the pinned chat at the top, the Vance Family Group Chat. A group I hadn’t uttered a single word in since the divorce. Marcus’s father, Arthur Vance, had sent a message that sat at the top like a toxic weight: “Control Maya. Don’t let outsiders laugh at our family over this trash.” The replies from the relatives flooded in right after. “Exactly. A girl’s reputation is everything.” “If she didn’t act out, boys wouldn’t do this. Marcus, you need to talk to Elena.” “Marcus, sort this out.” And Marcus? He remained completely silent in the chat, silently agreeing to the public execution of his own daughter’s dignity. I stared at the screen, my face blank. I didn’t type a furious reply. I didn’t leave the group. I simply pressed the screenshot buttons, capturing Arthur’s words, the relatives’ faces, and their contact cards. Every single one of them. Once I finished, I called Marcus back. It rang five times before he picked up. “Have you seen the family chat?” I asked directly. Marcus lowered his voice. “…Yes.” I waited for him to say more. A stupid, naive part of me hoped this father would stand up for his daughter just once in front of his elitist family. But Marcus spoke. “Look, my dad isn’t entirely wrong, Elena. The more noise you make, the worse it gets. Who is ever going to want to marry her in the future if she’s known for this?” That sentence blew away the very last ashes of respect I had left for him. “Let me ask you something,” my voice cracked, shattering the quiet of the apartment. “She locked herself in a hospital bathroom today. Now she’s locked in her room, and she won’t eat. Have you asked her how she is? Just once?!” Marcus remained unmoved, his voice carrying that familiar, condescending tone. “Calm down. I’ll talk to the family. Just make sure she eats.” He hung up on me. I set the phone down. The call had been automatically recorded. I opened my notes app and began cataloging the evidence: 7:12 PM. Arthur Vance: “She’s bringing embarrassment to the family.” 7:14 PM. Marcus Vance: “Who is ever going to want her after this?” I suddenly remembered the day Maya was born. Marcus’s mother, Eleanor, had held her in the hospital room, bragging to the nurses, “She’s a Vance through and through.” I let out a cold, cynical laugh and typed one last line in my notes: The Vances say Maya belongs to them. I stood up and walked back to Maya’s room. The food outside her door was cold. The darkness beneath her door was absolute. 4 Elena Miller’s POV Marcus’s phone call came in just as I was putting on my coat. I stood in the entryway, looking at his name flashing on the screen. I answered. “Elena, let me give you some perspective here,” Marcus said, his voice dripping with that arrogant, corporate tone. “The boy’s family is very influential. They run half the real estate in this city. If you back down, they’ll make sure Maya gets taken care of. If you drag this out, the only one who suffers is Maya.” My heels clicked sharply against the hardwood floor as I hung up on him, muted my phone, and slipped it into my pocket. Half an hour later, I was standing outside a massive estate in the wealthy suburbs of the city. The door opened, and the boy’s mother stood there. She wore an expensive beige cashmere dress. She looked me up and down, blocking the doorway completely. “I’m Maya’s mother,” I said, keeping my voice deadpan. “Your son harassed my daughter at school. I want a written, face-to-face apology to Maya.” The mother adjusted her collar and let out a soft, dismissive chuckle. “Oh, please. Kids play around. It’s not like he actually took her clothes off. Coming to my house like this? You’re making yourself look desperate.” The father walked up behind her, holding a cup of espresso. He didn’t even look at me. “Maybe Maya should watch how she behaves around boys. Why is it always our son’s fault?” I stood on the porch, looking at this smug, wealthy couple. I memorized their faces, etched their arrogance into my mind, and turned around. The heavy oak door slammed shut behind me, a loud bang that felt like a laugh at my expense. I drove straight to the school. In the administration building, Mrs. Evans’s desk was empty, her coffee cup cold. Principal Cooper intercepted me at the end of the hall, a polished, fake smile plastered across his face. “Mrs. Miller, Mrs. Evans is out sick today. We are conducting an internal investigation. As for the security cameras from that day… well, as you know, the system is old, and it happened to be down for maintenance.” Down for maintenance. Happened to be. I stared at him. “Where is the maintenance log and the technician’s report?” Principal Cooper’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second. “We are compiling the paperwork. Why don’t you take Maya home to rest? We will contact you when we have an update.” With that, he slipped into his office, leaving the door slightly ajar. I could hear faint laughter from inside. I didn’t leave. I sat down on the concrete steps outside the school, pulled out my phone, and scrolled to a picture of last semester’s syllabus. There was Mrs. Evans’s quote printed on the front page: “Any report of harassment will be investigated within 24 hours, with disciplinary action taken immediately.” I stared at it and moved the photo into a folder labeled “EVIDENCE.” Lies. Cover-ups. Deflection. They thought I would get tired and walk away. But they had no idea what a mother who has nothing left to lose is capable of.

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I spent an entire year working myself to the bone for the Paris Avant-Garde Fashion Showcase. I almost went blind. All I wanted was to bring the last piece of art my late Grandma Evelyn left me onto the global stage. But right before the flight, Carter, my boyfriend of five years, canceled my ticket. He took the couture gown I had hand-sewn with my own blood and sweat and put it on his sob-story assistant. He said: “Chloe’s depression is flaring up again. She needs this runway show to rebuild her confidence.” “You’re the talented one, Maya. You’ll have other chances. Just do this to help her out.” He thought I would swallow my pride and step back, just like I had done for the last five years. But he didn’t know. Once you give some things away, they are gone forever. And along with that dress, my love for him was completely drained. Later, that parasite of an assistant was thoroughly ruined, and Carter’s family empire went bankrupt. He knelt in a raging blizzard, begging me to look at him. But I just held the arm of Julian Vance, the sole heir of New York’s top financial empire, and didn’t even spare Carter a glance. “Get lost, Carter. Don’t get your cheap hands on my dress.”

Three days before the start of Paris Fashion Week, I dragged my temperature-controlled case filled with couture designs to JFK Airport, dripping with sweat. Carter and I had agreed to meet at Terminal 3. I had spent countless sleepless nights on this collection, working until my retinas were bloodshot, just to win this invitation to the international showcase. But when I stood in front of the self-service kiosk, it didn’t print my boarding pass. Instead, a cold notification popped up on the screen: Flight canceled. Ticket refunded. I called Carter. His phone was off. Fifteen minutes later, I saw him through the glass wall of the VIP lounge. He was wearing the black trench coat I had personally tailored for him, leaning down to tenderly adjust a scarf around Chloe’s neck. Chloe was holding my sketchbook in her hands. Around her neck hung my official entry pass. And in the temperature-controlled case next to her feet was Grandma Evelyn’s final masterpiece, which was supposed to be in my hands! Before I could even get close, Chloe’s eyes welled up with tears, and she shrank behind Carter. “Maya, please don’t be mad. I just… I just wanted to see Paris so badly.” “My anxiety has been so terrible lately.” When Carter saw me, his gentle expression instantly hardened into a scowl. “What are you doing here?” I pointed at the case by her feet, my fingers trembling. “That’s mine.” Carter took an impatient step forward, blocking Chloe from my view. “Chloe is in a bad mental state. The doctor said she needs to travel and clear her mind.” “What’s the big deal if she borrows your dress just to take some photos outside the venue and make herself feel better?” “Then what about my plane ticket?” Carter paused, pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, and shoved it into my hand. “I bought you a ticket back home. You’ve been too tired lately. Go back and get some rest.” He looked down at me, his voice low, but every word stabbed like a dagger. “Paris is a shark tank. Even if you go, you’ll just be a nobody in the background.” “Chloe is different. She needs this exposure to apply to Parsons. Don’t be a party pooper.”

I looked at the ticket. A one-way, coach-class ticket back home. So, my year of sleepless nights, of almost losing my eyesight, was worth nothing more than a retreat Carter had patronizingly arranged for me. I ripped the ticket to shreds and threw them into the air. Carter’s face twisted in anger. “Maya! What kind of tantrum are you throwing now?” I glared at him, my eyes burning. “My pass, my sketchbook, and my grandmother’s masterpiece are all in her hands. Why the hell should I leave?” Chloe immediately grabbed Carter’s sleeve, tears streaming down her face. “Carter, maybe I should just give everything back to Maya. I should go back to the hospital. I don’t deserve to see the show anyway…” She said she wanted to give it back, but her hands clutched the case tighter. Carter frowned at me, his eyes filled with disgust. “Chloe is literally this sick, and you’re trying to publicly humiliate her and drive her over the edge?” While he spoke, I reached into my pocket and silently turned on my backup phone. The recording app started ticking away. The airport PA system began announcing final boarding for the flight to Paris. Chloe gently tugged at Carter’s sleeve. “Carter, we have to go, or we’ll miss the flight.” Carter didn’t look at me again. With one hand around Chloe’s waist and the other dragging my case, he turned and walked into the VIP boarding lane. I stood there, watching their retreating backs. A massive tower in my heart crumbled to dust. I turned around, walked to the ticketing counter, and bought a ticket on the next budget flight to Europe. Three layovers. Thirty-six hours of travel. No checked baggage allowance. Just a single backpack. Halfway through, Carter sent me a message on SnapChat. “Chloe gets panic attacks on planes. Don’t send any messages to trigger her.” I didn’t reply. Thirty-six hours later, with swollen legs and dark circles under my eyes, I stood at the front desk of the hotel in Paris. The receptionist checked my passport, looking apologetic. “Miss Maya, the reservation was indeed paid for with your card.” “However, Mr. Carter changed the guest name to Miss Chloe.” I gripped my passport. “Who gave him permission to do that?” “I am sorry. Mr. Carter claimed he is your fiancé and showed us a screenshot of your authorization.” Ding. The elevator doors opened. Carter walked out, wearing a plush bathrobe, his hair slightly messy. When he saw me, his first words weren’t to ask how I had survived thirty-six hours of exhausting layovers. Instead, he knitted his brows and hissed, “Are you seriously stalking us all the way to Paris?” I looked at him. “Where is my room?” “Chloe just took her meds and fell asleep. Keep your voice down.” “I asked you, where is my room?!” Carter rubbed his temples, his tone incredibly dismissive. “The hotel is fully booked.” “There’s a small storage room in the basement with a cot. You can crash there for tonight.” He tossed a rusty key onto the floor at my feet. “Don’t come upstairs and make a scene. Chloe can’t handle any stress.” I looked down at the key and suddenly let out a cold laugh. “Carter, I worked night shifts for three months drawing blueprints to save up enough money to book this suite.” “I know.” His voice grew even lower, carrying a chilling indifference. “But Chloe is weak. She’s exhausted after a ten-hour flight.” “Maya, grow up. Stop being so petty about everything.” I reached into my pocket and tapped my phone. The recording was still going. This time, I didn’t swallow my tears like I used to. When I pushed open the basement storage door, a foul smell of mold and dust hit my face. Mops, bleach, and mountains of dirty laundry filled the space. My temperature-controlled case was carelessly dumped right next to a bucket of dirty water. The lock had been brutally smashed open. My blood ran cold. I lunged forward. The inside was a total mess. My sketchbook was there, and my sewing kit was there. But the heavy-embroidered couture gown, “Ethereal,” was gone. My phone buzzed. It was a message from Carter. “Chloe took the gown to try it on. She says she wants to wear it to the showcase tomorrow.” “It’s an honor for your work to be worn by her. Don’t be ungrateful.”

The next morning, the showcase committee announced that the preliminary review would take place at 10 AM at the plaza outside the Louvre. I hadn’t slept a wink. Clutching my broken case, I rushed upstairs. As soon as the elevator doors opened, I saw Chloe standing by the floor-to-ceiling window at the end of the hallway. She was wearing my “Ethereal.” It was a piece sewn stitch by stitch with ultra-fine silver threads, forming a stunning celestial map. But right now, Carter was holding a pair of scissors, cutting open the back hem of the gown without a second thought. His movements were so casual it made my heart turn to ice. That gown was the last piece of art Grandma Evelyn had taught me to embroider, stitch by stitch, when she was on her deathbed. Grandma had said: “Maya, when you go to the big stage, bring this sky with you. Let the world see our heritage.” I rushed over, my voice hoarse with pure fury. “Take it off!” Chloe gasped, her eyes instantly turning red. “Maya, I didn’t know this was yours…” “Carter told me he bought this couture piece for me.” Carter immediately shielded her behind him, pointing the scissors at me. “Maya, you want her to strip right here? This is a public hallway. Do you have any decency?” I stared at him. “That is my grandmother’s final legacy!” Carter’s face stiffened for a fraction of a second, but then he sneered. “The old woman has been dead for years. Are you really going to trigger Chloe’s panic attack over a piece of dead fabric?” Chloe hid behind him, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed. Carter immediately turned around, whispering sweet things to comfort her. “Don’t worry, babe. She’s just crazy. She’s jealous because you look prettier in it than she ever could.” At the preliminary review, Chloe, wearing the mutilated “Ethereal,” took center stage. She held my sketchbook, leaning into Carter’s chest, smiling coyly for the cameras of international media. Some peers from our college recognized Carter and cheered: “Wow, Carter! Your girlfriend’s dress is insane! It’s gorgeous!” Carter didn’t correct them. He just turned his head and gave me a cold, warning look. There was no guilt in his eyes. Only a high-and-mighty threat. After the review, Chloe held up the ruined hem of the dress and ran down to the steps by the Seine. “Carter, take some solo photos of me! I want to post them on Ins!” I marched over and grabbed her wrist. “Take the dress off and give it back to me.” Chloe struggled, pulling back. “Maya, I’m not done taking photos…” “Take. It. Off!” During the struggle, she suddenly shrieked. A sharp ripping sound echoed through the air. The delicate silk hem had snagged on the sharp iron railing of the stairs. The gorgeous silver embroidery tore open, leaving a huge, ugly gash. Chloe took the opportunity to fall straight into Carter’s arms, sobbing uncontrollably. “I didn’t mean to! Why did Maya have to push me?” Carter shoved me away with brutal force. Unprepared, I fell heavily onto the stone steps. My palms scraped against the rough concrete, and blood instantly welled up. But he didn’t even look at me. He was too busy inspecting Chloe’s ankle. “Did you twist it? Does it hurt?” I looked down at the bright red blood on my hands, then at the completely ruined “Ethereal.” Carter looked back, his eyes as cold as ice. “Are you happy now, Maya? Do you have to ruin everything before you’re satisfied?” I opened my mouth, but the taste of copper filled my throat. Before I could speak, Chloe suddenly pulled a crumpled little fabric pouch from the inner pocket of the dress. “Ugh, what is this cheap junk? It was pressing against my skin the whole time.” My face drained of all color. That was the silver locket and lucky charm containing Grandma’s hair. I lunged to grab it, but Chloe let go of her hand, pretending to slip. The pouch fell straight into the rushing currents of the Seine, swallowed instantly by the dark waves. I knelt on the cold stone bank, reaching wildly into the water. But there was nothing. Only the freezing river water, chilling me to the bone. Carter stood behind me, his voice dripping with impatience. “It’s just a cheap pouch. I’ll buy you ten designer bags when we get back, okay?” I knelt on the ground, my fingers clutching the cracks in the stone so hard my nails cracked, bleeding onto the rock. At that exact moment, I finally woke up. Some people don’t hurt you because they don’t know your pain. They hurt you because to them, your entire life isn’t worth a single tear from their precious lover.

At noon, Carter sent me a text on WhatsApp. “Bring your original design sketches to the exhibition hall. Chloe needs them for her judge interview this afternoon.” I didn’t go. I sat in the damp basement storage room and opened my laptop. My cloud backup was empty. My entire life’s work from the past three years had been wiped out. The entire series of sketches titled “Rebirth” was gone. I had worked on them for three long years. Countless sleepless nights, hundreds of worn-down pencils. I wanted to show them to the world on the Paris stage. But now, they were gone. I called Carter. Before the call connected, I turned on the recording on my backup phone again. He took his time answering. In the background, I could hear the soft jazz of a high-end restaurant and the clinking of expensive cutlery. “What now?” “Where are my cloud sketches?” There was a two-second silence on the other end. “Chloe needed a headline collection to apply to Parsons. I copied your sketches for her.” “And I cleared the cloud so you wouldn’t do anything stupid and ruin her chances.” I shook so hard my teeth clattered. “Who gave you the right to steal my life’s work?” Carter’s voice turned icy, filled with the arrogant condescension of a wealthy heir. “Maya, can you stop being so selfish?” “You’re just an undergraduate. Those sketches are wasted in your hands anyway.” “Chloe is different. She actually needs them.” I let out a harsh laugh. “So my future is just a stepping stone for her?” “It’s just borrowing your name temporarily.” “Carter, that was three years of my life!” He fell silent for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was utterly heartless. “Maya, don’t bite the hand that feeds you. Without the Wilson family’s resources, do you honestly think you’d even be in Paris?” I hung up. Ten minutes later, the design community back home went into a frenzy. Chloe had posted a set of design sketches on Instagram and Twitter. The caption read: “East Coast Aesthetics: My Paris Debut.” The first slide was my main collection blueprint. The second slide was my embroidery breakdown. The third was a highly edited photo of her wearing my damaged gown. The comments below were filled with worship. “Chloe is a literal genius!” Our college dean even posted in the student group chat: “Chloe, this collection is outstanding. It’s enough to secure your early admission to Parsons. We are so proud of you.” I grabbed my coat and stormed towards the Michelin-starred restaurant they were at. I kicked the private dining room door open. Carter was leaning over, patiently cutting a steak for Chloe. He had never cut my food for me. Once, when I accidentally cut my hand while rushing a deadline and couldn’t even hold a fork, he had mocked me, saying I couldn’t even feed myself. But now, that perfectly cut steak was placed right in front of Chloe. The waiter served foie gras. Carter subconsciously said, “Maya can’t eat organ meats, it makes her sick.” My steps paused. The next second, he pushed the expensive white truffle pasta to Chloe. “You have a delicate stomach, eat this.” I felt a sudden wave of absurdity. He remembered everything. He just consciously chose to give his care to someone else. I marched over and held out my hand. “Give me the flash drive with my sketches.” Chloe’s eyes instantly turned red, looking like a frightened little deer. “Maya, I really just wanted to try my best to prove myself…” I stared at her coldly. “By stealing someone else’s work? Does that prove you’re a thief?” Carter slammed his fork onto the plate, making a sharp, metallic screech. “Maya, watch your mouth!” “If you’re so worried about being clean, maybe you shouldn’t have done something so filthy!” The room fell into a dead silence. Carter stood up, his tall frame towering over me, his face extremely dark. “Do you have to embarrass us abroad and ruin this dinner?” “You ruined my entire life!” Chloe sobbed, shaking her head. “Maya, Carter gave me the sketches. I thought you agreed to it.” “If I knew you didn’t want to, I would rather die than use them.” Carter wrapped his arm around her shoulders, glaring at me. “I gave them to her. If you have a problem, take it out on me.” I sneered. “Great. Then post a public statement right now telling the world who actually drew those sketches!” He instantly went quiet. Chloe wept even harder, clutching Carter’s shirt. “Maya, why do you have to push Carter like this?” “You already have so many great designs. Can’t you just let me have this one?” The next second, my phone screen lit up. It was an official email from our college board. “Maya, we have received a formal plagiarism report accusing you of stealing Chloe’s showcase designs.” “Your graduation portfolio review has been suspended, and your degree is being withheld.” Immediately after, an email from the top NYC design studio I had signed with popped up. “Dear Miss Maya, due to a severe academic and commercial plagiarism controversy, your employment offer has been rescinded.” I stood frozen, staring at the words on the screen. My blood turned to absolute ice. I found out later that the “formal report” had been sent by Chloe herself. She had recorded the confrontation in the private room earlier, edited it to make me look like a hysterical bully trying to steal her work, and sent it to the school and the studio. She didn’t just want to steal my designs. She wanted to brand me as a plagiarist forever, ensuring I could never work in this industry again. I didn’t have a powerful family like Carter. I didn’t have the luxury of crying to get whatever I wanted like Chloe. That job offer was my only ticket to a better life. And they had just destroyed it. Seeing my pale face, Carter frowned. “What’s wrong?” I threw my phone straight at his chest. He looked down at the screen, and for a fleeting moment, a flash of panic crossed his eyes. But Chloe quickly tugged his sleeve, her voice trembling. “Carter, I’m scared… did I do something wrong?” And just like that, his guilt vanished. He tossed the phone back onto the table and said in a patronizing, dismissive voice: “Maya, don’t blow this out of proportion.” “If you just post a statement saying you ‘inspired’ each other, Chloe is kind enough not to sue you.” I looked at this man I had loved for five years in sheer disbelief. “You want me, the actual creator, to publicly apologize to a thief?” He avoided my eyes, sounding irritated. “We need to quiet down the media first! You don’t have a backup. If you fight this, you will lose!” I threw my head back and laughed. I laughed so hard tears came out of my eyes. The designs were mine, she was the thief, he was the accomplice who handed her the knife. And yet, I was the one who had to kneel and apologize.

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On our fifth anniversary, I gifted my boyfriend of five years a brand-new Porsche 91 I thought my generosity would buy his loyalty. Instead, the very next day, he went on a TikTok live stream to drag my name through the mud. In front of the camera, his eyes were bloodshot, his voice dripping with bitter resentment. “What I wanted was real, pure love, not a relationship built on a pile of cash!” “She doesn’t get me at all. She loves humiliating my heart with her stupid money!” His best bros chimed in to support him, and the comment section immediately turned into a toxic wasteland, everyone calling me a soulless sugar mommy. Watching them twist the truth so effortlessly, I only felt a cold, deep irony. Fine. Since he wanted a love untainted by the smell of money so badly, I decided to grant him his wish. Not long after, Carter Miller found himself drowning in millions of dollars of debt, with breach-of-contract lawsuits piling up like mountains on his desk. He ended up on his knees in front of me, looking like a wet, dirty dog, desperately grabbing the hem of my pants, sobbing and begging: “Vivian, I was wrong! I don’t want that bullshit pure love anymore!” “Please, help me. Give me back my resources, my money… I really can’t take this anymore!” 1. The buzz of my phone felt exceptionally sharp in my empty luxury penthouse. It was 3:00 AM, and my screen was flashing with countless notifications. It wasn’t work emails on WhatsApp, but rather hundreds of wild tags and mentions on Snapchat and TikTok. I rubbed my throbbing temples and unlocked the screen. What caught my eye was a video that had already surpassed a hundred thousand likes. The creator: “Carter’s Late-Night Radio.” My boyfriend of five years, Carter Miller. The cover of the video was a close-up of his face—red-rimmed eyes, a broken expression, and a line of shocking text overlay: [On our 5th anniversary, I received the most devastating gift of my life.] I clicked on it. In the video, Carter was sitting in the driver’s seat of a pristine, shiny Porsche 911, twirling the key fob. It was the car I had taken him to pick up just yesterday, worth nearly two hundred thousand dollars. But he wasn’t smiling. He took a deep, shaky breath for the camera, his voice heavy with suppressed sorrow. “Today is the fifth anniversary of my relationship with my girlfriend.” “I thought, on such an important milestone, she would have prepared a surprise full of memories.” “Even if it was just a handwritten letter, or taking me back to the diner where we had our first date.” “But no. There was nothing. Absolutely nothing.” He raised the key fob with the Porsche crest, his eyes filled with disgust and hurt. “She just took me to the dealership, got this new car, and said: ‘Like it? Drive it home yourself.’” “At that moment, my heart completely froze.” “A two-hundred-thousand-dollar car sounds amazing, right? But in my eyes, it’s just a heap of cold, lifeless metal!” “It has no warmth, no soul, and absolutely no love!” “I asked her if she had anything else to say to me. No gift prepared with actual thought?” “And she actually rolled her eyes and said, ‘Isn’t this car good enough? Other guys would kill for this. Stop making a scene.’” In the video, Carter gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. “I was speechless. In her eyes, what am I? A pet she can just throw money at?” “I never wanted her money!” “I wanted the little things. I wanted the effort. I wanted the romance of being chosen over everything else!” “Am I wrong? I just wanted a pure love. Why is that so hard?” “This transactional relationship is literally driving me insane…” The video cut off there. I stared at the screen. My chest didn’t ache with pity for him like it usually did. Instead, a wave of pure, unfiltered disgust washed over me. In his little monologue, he conveniently forgot to mention that this car was his “Dream Car.” He had seen someone else driving it two weeks ago and had been whining about it in my ear every single day since. He also didn’t mention how many strings I had to pull, and how much extra cash I had to pay under the table, just to get this exact model delivered in time for our anniversary. And he definitely didn’t mention the context of my line, “Stop making a scene.” We were at the dealership, and he had thrown a massive tantrum in front of everyone because the staff didn’t set up a red carpet and a giant bow for his “delivery ceremony,” making me look like an idiot. In his video, I was the heartless, newly-rich b”ch who thought money solved everything. And he was the noble, poetic prince who refused to bow to wealth. I tapped open the comments. The internet had gone completely wild, and the screen was flooded with insults directed at me. [Oh my god! Carter, don’t cry! That classless rich girl doesn’t deserve you at all!] [Two hundred thousand dollars to buy off five years of youth? What does she think love is? A business transaction? Disgusting!] [So gross! She thinks because she has money, she owns him. She doesn’t respect men at all!] [Support Carter in breaking up! My girlfriend only makes $3,000 a month, but she makes me midnight snacks and hand-knits me beanies. That’s priceless romance! Money is trash!] [Bro, run! This woman looks down on you in her bones. She thinks you’re just after her wallet. You deserve a real girl who actually cares about you!] [I looked her up! Her name is Vivian Vance, founder of a tech startup. Haha, typical. The richer they are, the colder they get.] [@VivianVance, apologize! You owe Carter his youth back!] I scrolled down expressionlessly. Among the top-liked comments, I spotted a few very familiar handles. Hudson and Logan. Carter’s two “ride-or-die” bros. Hudson commented: [As Carter’s best friend, I honestly can’t watch this anymore. Vivian, you boss him around daily, and now you humiliate him like this on your anniversary? Do you even know how many sleepless nights he spent trying to plan a surprise for you?] Logan commented: [Exactly! Carter is a man of spiritual depth. He wants a soulmate! Your dirty money only pollutes his world! Set him free already!] But the most hilarious one was the third-highest comment. It was from Carter’s mother, Evelyn Miller. She had replied to a random user: “Sigh, my Carter was protected too well by me since he was a kid. He’s too pure, too gentle, always dreaming of those idealistic romances.” “I told him long ago that Vivian is too materialistic, too cold. She can’t give him the emotional support he needs. But this stubborn boy just wouldn’t listen to his mother…” “Too pure.” “Too gentle.” I looked at the comment and burst out laughing from sheer anger. I remembered three years ago when Evelyn Miller, claiming she “felt insecure,” forced me to buy Carter a luxury apartment in downtown LA—and demanded only Carter’s name be put on the deed. And two years ago, when Carter’s younger brother wanted a new car, she heavily hinted that as Carter’s girlfriend, I should fund it. Just last month, Evelyn went on a vacation to the Maldives and maxed out the $150,000 limit on the credit card I gave her. And now, she was online calling me materialistic, saying I couldn’t support her son emotionally. I threw my phone onto the sofa and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window. Outside, the glittering night view of the city stretched out before me. Suddenly, these five years felt like a complete farce. I had given everything to pamper him and his family until they took it all for granted. And yet they stood on their high horses, looking down on me, claiming my money was dirty and that I wasn’t worthy of their noble souls. Fine. Since you think my money is so filthy. I will give you exactly what you asked for.

The next morning, my apartment doorbell was rung aggressively. I opened the door to find Carter standing there. He was wearing a white linen shirt, his hair styled to look messy, and his eyes were slightly pink as if he had cried all night. Behind him stood Hudson and Logan, looking like two hired goons. The moment the door opened, Hudson charged forward like a rabid dog protecting its owner. “Vivian! Do you even have a heart? Carter was in tears until dawn, and you didn’t even call him once? You didn’t even text back? Do you want him to die?!” Logan added with a cold sneer, “Vivian, don’t think you can do whatever you want just because you have some cash. Love isn’t a commodity! Your attitude at the dealership yesterday severely crushed Carter’s dignity!” Carter didn’t say a word. He just bit his lip, staring at me with a sullen, wounded expression. If this were the past, seeing him like this would have made me crumble instantly. I would have rushed over, grabbed his hands, apologized repeatedly, and promised to buy him whatever luxury watch or designer toy he wanted just to see him smile. But today, I just stood there, watching their little show. “And?” My voice was flat, without a single ripple of emotion. My calmness caught the three of them off guard. Hudson’s eyes widened, looking at me like I was some kind of alien. “And? You’re asking us ‘and’? Vivian, are you a sociopath? As his girlfriend, shouldn’t you be reflecting on your toxic behavior?” “Reflecting on what?” I looked at Carter. “Reflecting on whether I shouldn’t have bought you a Porsche?” Carter flinched, tears instantly welling up in his eyes. “Vivian! You still don’t get it, do you?!” he yelled, his voice cracking. “I don’t want a Porsche! I don’t want those tacky luxury brands! I just want effort! I want romance that comes from the heart! Why is that so hard for you to understand?!” “Yeah, Vivian,” Logan chimed in sarcastically. “Look at the girls on TikTok. They stay up all night making DIY scrapbooks and setting up fairy lights for their guys. What about you? Besides wire transfers and credit cards, what else do you know how to do? Your lazy attitude is literally a disrespect to love!” I stared at Logan. I remembered vividly that for Logan’s birthday last month, Carter had used my credit card to buy him a $10,000 limited-edition pair of sneakers. Logan had posted it all over his Instagram, calling Carter his “brother for life.” And now, here he was, preaching to me about disrespecting love. “I see,” I said, nodding slowly. “You see what?” Hudson looked at me suspiciously. “Don’t think you can just brush us off with some half-assed apology. I’m telling you, Carter is seriously heartbroken this time. If you don’t do something big to make it up to him, this is over!” “Something big?” I let out a soft laugh. “Like what?” Hudson answered immediately, as if he had rehearsed this. “Next month is Carter’s birthday. This is your last chance to redeem yourself! If you dare to insult him with another tacky sports car, we’ll make sure he dumps you for good!” “Exactly!” Logan added. “For this birthday, you are not allowed to buy your way out. You have to hand-make everything. Got it?” Carter stood behind them. Though he remained silent, his eyes were full of smug expectation. He was waiting for me to beg, to crawl, to rack my brain to create some “meaningful” DIY romance for him. Looking at their arrogant faces, I felt an unprecedented sense of relief. “Okay,” I smiled warmly. “I promise.” Carter’s eyes lit up, a flash of victory passing through them. “Vivian…” He stepped forward, gently taking my hand, his voice softening. “I didn’t mean to make things public on TikTok. I was just… I was just so desperate for you to understand me. You’re not mad at me, right?” “Of course not,” I looked into his eyes. “You want pure, cost-free, heartfelt romance, right?” “Yes!” Carter nodded eagerly, looking like an idealistic boy. “For your birthday next month, I will prepare a romance that you will never, ever forget.” I smiled and gently straightened his collar. “I promise, not a single penny of dirty money will ruin it.” Carter let out a long sigh of relief and patted my shoulder. Hudson and Logan exchanged a look, both smiling in satisfaction. In their minds, I was still the rich, gullible Vivian who would do anything to keep her man. They thought they would see me act like a clown next month, trying to please them with pathetic DIY crafts. Oh, they had no idea. The game had just begun.

After throwing them out, I went straight to my study and opened my laptop. Since we were going “pure” and “non-materialistic,” I had to commit to the role fully. First, I called Marcus, the sales manager at the Porsche dealership. “Marcus, about that 911 we picked up yesterday. I’m not satisfied with it.” Marcus panicked on the other end of the line. “Ms. Vance! Is there an issue with the car? Just say the word, we will send a team to assist you immediately!” “No, the car is fine,” I said casually. “My boyfriend thinks the car is too tacky for his sophisticated taste. Send someone over to my building to tow it back.” Marcus was stunned, silent for a few seconds. “Uh… Ms. Vance, the car is already registered. If you return it now, it can only be processed as a used-car trade-in. You’ll lose quite a bit…” “I don’t care,” I cut him off. “Deduct whatever you need to. Just make sure that car is out of my garage by tonight.” After hanging up, I opened my banking app. I found the authorized user credit card with the $150,000 monthly limit that Carter always carried. I tapped “Freeze Card.” Next, I dialed my Chief Financial Officer, Leo. “Leo, liquidate the accounts of ‘The Solitude Cafe’ immediately.” “The Solitude Cafe” was a passion project Carter had whined about wanting two years ago. I had funded the entire thing—from the prime downtown location to the high-end interior design and the premium organic coffee bean supply chain. To save his “independent artist” pride, I had registered him as the sole owner and brand founder. But in reality, because Carter only cared about hosting poetry readings and giving away free hand-brewed coffee to his hipster friends, the cafe was bleeding cash every month. My parent company had been silently covering all his losses. Leo hesitated. “Ms. Vance, that cafe has a monthly deficit of about $50,000. If we pull the plug now…” “Cut all financial support from the parent company,” I ordered coldly. “Starting today, Carter Miller is solely responsible for the rent, utilities, employee wages, and supplier bills. Also, tell our legal team to draft a formal repayment contract for all the losses our company covered over the past two years. We’re going to court.” “Understood, Ms. Vance.” Leo was a smart man and asked no further questions. Leaning back in my leather chair, I let out a long breath. For five years, I had been a bottomless piggy bank, feeding Carter and his family’s bottomless vanity. I thought that if I gave him enough, he would eventually see my devotion. But I was wrong. Some people will eat your food and complain that your plates are too heavy. Since he hated the gold, I would take it back and leave him in the mud. That afternoon, Carter sent me a message on Snapchat. “Babe, my card was declined? I’m at the mall with Hudson, and we found a limited-edition designer jacket, but the transaction didn’t go through.” I looked at the screen, a cold smirk playing on my lips. I replied: “Sweetheart, to prepare for your birthday surprise, I’ve decided to cut off all material distractions starting today. I want to show you that even without money, I can give you the most fulfilling love. Don’t buy that jacket. I will hand-make a better one for you.” The chat screen went silent. Ten minutes later, Carter replied with a single word: “Okay.” Even through the screen, I could picture his face—gritting his teeth, forced to pretend he was touched by my “thoughtfulness.” He had built the “money is trash” persona himself. Now, he had to play the part, even if it killed him.

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I was born fat. Before prom started, everyone was asking each other to be their date. Someone shoved me toward Nicholas Reed and shouted for us to get together. My face turned red, and I stumbled right into the arms of my tall, handsome childhood friend. But Nicholas shoved me hard to the floor like he had touched something filthy. “You disgusting fat pig, don’t touch me! Gross!” “If I didn’t feel sorry for you getting bullied, I wouldn’t even bother with you!” The whole class laughed at me. Austin Walker, the star quarterback on the football team, helped me up from the floor. “Nicholas Reed.” “Do you really think everyone in the world is as blind as you?” The whole room went silent in an instant. He lowered his head and glanced at me, looking too serious for it to be a joke. “Serena Hayes, you’ll be beautiful once you lose weight.” Nicholas let out a sneer. “If she looks even half as good as the cheer captain after losing weight, I’ll livestream myself eating crap!” He looked at my dress, which had split at the seams. “But, well, this sow’s biggest hobby is eating, so there’s no way she can lose weight!” Another round of laughter broke out around us. I covered my torn dress, looked at him, and all twelve years of my crush vanished in that moment. That night, after I got home, I stood in front of the mirror and looked at myself. Five foot nine, 250 pounds. I wrote down a plan in my notebook: First, lose weight. Second, change my college application and stop going to Harvard University with him.

“LOL, the toad really wants to eat swan meat.” “She’s 250 pounds and still dares to like Nicholas. Where does she get the courage?” … My classmates’ mocking did not stop. Chloe Summers, the queen bee, laughed the loudest and deliberately picked up a plate piled high with cream cake. Then she pressed the plate into my face. Cream smeared all over my face. “Serena, don’t be sad.” “Eat more, just like a pig eating feed. Once you’re full, you won’t be sad anymore.” Someone chimed in, “Serena, if you want a boyfriend, you might as well find a boar, haha!” The prom exploded with laughter again. Nicholas held a glass of champagne, the remnants of mockery still hanging at the corner of his mouth, as if none of this had anything to do with him. Austin Walker, the star quarterback, frowned and glanced at him, but said nothing more. Instead, Chloe Summers, who was standing beside Nicholas, leaned over and whispered something. Nicholas gave a low laugh, as if he were sneering. I wiped the cream from my face and stood up. “I’m leaving first.” Chloe immediately put on a caring expression. “Serena, don’t be mad, we were really just joking…” I ignored her, got up, and walked out. When I passed by Nicholas, he did not even lift his head and was still chatting with Chloe. I stopped. “Nicholas Reed.” He finally looked up at me, with a trace of impatience in his eyes. “What?” I looked at him. I remembered when we were six, when he moved next door to my house and scraped his knee on the very first day. I was the one who carried him on my back and took him to the neighborhood clinic. Back then, he smiled at me, even though I was already chubby. That one smile stayed with me for twelve years. “Every word you said today,” I said very softly, “one day, you’ll regret it.” He raised an eyebrow and sneered without taking me seriously. “Me, regret it? Fatass, in this life I…” I did not listen to the rest and pushed the door open. The hallway was very quiet. My hands were shaking, but my tears did not fall. It was not that it did not hurt. It hurt too much, so much that I could not cry. My best friend Nina chased after me and grabbed my wrist. “Serena, I’ll go back right now and help you…” “Nina,” I cut her off, my voice hoarse, “walk with me.” The sunset stretched our shadows very long. I walked a long way before I spoke. “He’s right. I really am 250 pounds right now.” “But he said I’ll never lose weight in this lifetime.” “I’m going to lose it just to show him.” Nina bit her lip and said nothing, only holding my hand even tighter. When I got home that night, everyone was asleep. I stood alone in front of the mirror. My frame clearly was not small, but it was completely buried under fat. My face was as round as a big ball of dough, and I had three full layers of chin. But when I leaned closer, my eye shape was pretty. My nose bridge was high. The little mole at the corner of my eye looked like it had been drawn on. Austin Walker’s words echoed in my ears. “Serena Hayes, you’ll be beautiful once you lose weight.” Was it true? I did not know. But tonight, I made two decisions. First, lose weight, with a goal of 110 pounds. Second, cancel my Harvard University application. I opened my laptop and logged into the application system. On the screen, Harvard University’s admission confirmation page glowed quietly. The mouse hovered over Decline Offer. Nicholas’s words seemed to ring in my ears again. “You disgusting fat pig, don’t touch me. Gross.” I did not hesitate again. I clicked decline. Then I wrote another application email. It was to Stanford University, more than a thousand miles away from Boston. Because of Nicholas, I had never even looked at it before. For him, I applied to law, a major I did not like. Now, I chose the major I liked and clicked send. Thanks to my excellent grades, the other side soon sent me an admission notice. I clicked Accept and closed my laptop. But my heart felt lighter than ever. Starting today. I would no longer live for Nicholas Reed. I would live for myself.

At five the next morning, when the alarm rang, the sky was still dark. I put on my sneakers, went out, and took a jump rope to the community square. On the first day, I only jumped two hundred times before I was panting like I was about to die. On the third day, I increased it to five hundred, and my calves were so sore they trembled when I went upstairs. On the fifth day, after jumping one thousand times, I leaned over a trash can and threw up. But I never stopped for even one day. On the evening of the sixth day, I was stretching downstairs when Nicholas came back from playing soccer outside. He held a soccer ball and looked me up and down. “Why are you covered in sweat?” I did not speak and kept stretching my leg. He walked over and leaned against the wall, saying casually, “A classmate saw you jumping rope to lose weight?” I still said nothing. He kept talking to himself, his tone carrying that careless certainty he always had. “If you really want to lose weight, get a gym membership. Jumping rope alone won’t do much. With your weight… never mind.” After a pause, he added, “By the way, did you get your Harvard University admission letter? Mine arrived.” My hand paused for a moment. He thought I was still going to Harvard University. Everyone thought so. I straightened up and walked into the building with no expression on my face. Behind me, he shouted, “Did you get it or not?” The building door closed, cutting off his voice. As I went upstairs, the corner of my mouth actually curved slightly. Nicholas Reed, take your time waiting. When October third comes, you’ll know. On the eighth night, someone posted a video in the class group chat. It was footage of me jumping rope in the community square. Heavy panting, soaked clothes, jumping once and stopping once, and my fat shaking nonstop with every rise and fall. The person filming had deliberately chosen the ugliest angle. [I’m dying hahahaha Serena Hayes really started losing weight!!] [Nicholas’s words really hit her hard, huh?] [Austin said she’d look good after losing weight? I couldn’t see any potential in that face even with a magnifying glass.] Chloe Summers: [Serena, good luck! Anyway, there are tons of pretty girls at Harvard Law, so if you don’t lose a little weight, you’ll seriously feel inferior once school starts.] Nicholas also came out and sent a message. My heart jumped. He said: [Stop posting stuff like this. Are you all children?] Someone teased him: [Nicholas, are you feeling sorry for her???] He replied: [Are you guys bored? What does her losing weight have to do with me? I never liked her.] What did it have to do with him? Right, it never had anything to do with him. I liked him for twelve years, and he said it had nothing to do with him. Fine. From now on, it really would have nothing to do with you. I left the class group chat. I opened Nina’s chat box. [I’m going to stay at my grandma’s place until school starts. Keep it a secret for me. If anyone asks, say you don’t know.] Nina: [Leave it to me. But you have to promise me you’ll come back alive.] I smiled and typed an OK. Then I opened Nicholas’s chat box. I looked at all the messages I had sent him over the past three years. “My mom made apple pie today. Want to come over?” “It’s raining on the way home. I brought you an umbrella.” “Good night.” Every single one had been read and ignored. On the rare occasions he replied, it was always “Mm,” “Got it,” or “Stop bothering me.” I took a deep breath. Delete friend. No hesitation. Early the next morning, I dragged my suitcase downstairs. Downstairs, I ran into Nicholas’s mom. “Serena, where are you going?” “To my grandma’s place for a while.” “Then when Nicholas comes to your house for dinner later…” “Mrs. Reed,” I smiled, “Nicholas is already an adult, so there’s no need to trouble my mom anymore.” When I carried my suitcase out of the community, a window opened behind me. I knew it was Nicholas’s room. But I did not look back. Not even once.

My grandma lived on a farm in the countryside, where the phone signal had only one bar and there was almost no WiFi. On the first day I arrived, I locked my phone in a cabinet. Every day, I got up at five to jump rope. In the morning, I power-walked along the wooded trail outside the farm. In the afternoon, I helped my grandma prune fruit trees, move hay, and take care of the horses. The meal plan Grandma made for me was chicken breast with roasted vegetables, rotating between oatmeal, brown rice, and sweet potatoes. In the first week, I lost six pounds, down to 194 pounds. In the second week, I lost five pounds, down to 189 pounds. Starting from the third week, the weight dropped more slowly, so I added two thousand extra jumps every day and one set of strength training. In the fourth week, I was 180 pounds. In one month, I had lost a full twenty pounds. There were changes in the mirror, but they were not obvious enough. My face was not as round anymore, but my jawline was still blurry, and my body was loose and sagging like deflated dough. I did not waver at all. Continue. In the fifth week, I was 173 pounds. In the sixth week, I was 166 pounds. I turned on my phone for the first time. Dozens of messages flooded in. Nina’s messages: [Nicholas came to me! He asked where you went! I played dumb!] [He asked again today! He even asked if you changed your number!] [Hahahaha guess what he said? He said, “She’s definitely just throwing a tantrum. She’ll be back in a couple days.”] I let out a sneer. Throwing a tantrum? Nicholas Reed, you really think too highly of yourself. I kept scrolling. Nina had sent more: [He’s getting closer and closer to Chloe Summers. Today Chloe posted a photo of them playing ball together. Everyone in the group is saying they might be together.] I looked at that message. Then I waited for my heart’s reaction. Unexpectedly, there was nothing. It did not hurt anymore. It really did not hurt anymore. I turned off my phone and kept training. In the seventh week, I was 158 pounds. In the eighth week, I was 150 pounds. The changes in the mirror started becoming dramatic. My jawline emerged sharply, my cheekbones became clear, and my whole face looked as if it had been carved all over again. My body proportions began to show, my collarbones came out, and the lines of my legs changed from thick to long and lean. But it was still not enough. I knew the best version of myself had not appeared yet. Continue. In the ninth week, I was 142 pounds. When I went to the pharmacy in town to buy medicine for Grandma, the girl behind the counter froze when she took the prescription. She stared at my face for a long time. “You look like some movie star… I can’t remember who right now.” Grandma quickly pulled me away. After we got home, Grandma sat on the porch rocking chair and worried. “Your mother was like this back then too. She was chubby as a kid, and no one paid attention to her. Then she suddenly slimmed down, and the whole high school went crazy.” “You’re even more dramatic than your mother.” I thought Grandma was exaggerating too much. In the tenth week, I was 135 pounds. I turned on my phone for the second time. Nina’s latest message: [Nicholas told me to tell you that if you don’t join the Harvard freshman group soon, it’ll be too late. His exact words were, “Is she still throwing a tantrum? Tell her I won’t pay attention to her when the time comes, so she shouldn’t get her hopes up.”] I looked at this sentence and could not help laughing. Even now, he still thought I would go to Harvard University. He still thought I would chase after him like I used to. Nicholas Reed, what kind of dream are you living in? I replied to Nina: [Don’t tell anyone I went to Stanford University to study computer science. Including him. Let him find out himself.] Nina replied: [Okay! I can’t wait to see his face!!!] In the eleventh week, I was 125 pounds. Grandma officially forbade me from going out alone. “When you went to town to buy things the day before yesterday, those college boys in the supermarket kept following you. Did you know that?” “…It can’t be that serious, right?” “Go look in the mirror yourself!” I went to look. Then I fell silent. In the mirror was a face… even I found unfamiliar. A height of five foot nine and a weight of 125 pounds had released every advantage of my bone structure. My features looked delicate, as if someone had drawn them stroke by stroke. The corners of my eyes tilted slightly upward, my eyes were a pale blue, and my lips were a very light rose color. My collarbones looked like butterfly wings, and my waist looked small enough to hold in one hand. The mole at the corner of my eye was like the final stroke, pushing my whole face from “pretty” to “stunning.” I stared for a long time. So what Austin Walker said was true. In the twelfth week, I was 110 pounds. Grandma stood behind me and let out a long sigh. “What a sin. Your parents spent more than ten years fattening you up, and now it’s all wasted.” I finally could not hold back. “What are you all talking about? What happened to me when I was little?” Grandma shook her head and refused to say. She only muttered: “After school starts, wear a hat and sunglasses. Don’t cause trouble.” I replied, “Okay.” But in my heart, I thought— Nicholas Reed, on October third, you will look for me in the crowd of freshmen checking in at Harvard University. You will search every classroom in the law school. You will go through every freshman list. But you will never find the name Serena Hayes. Because I am no longer there. I will never stand behind you again.

The day before school started. Nina sent me a string of screenshots. They were chat records from the high school class group. Chloe Summers had posted a photo of herself and Nicholas standing at the Harvard University gate. She leaned against his shoulder and smiled brightly, with the caption: [Thank God you’re here with me!] A bunch of people teased them underneath. [Perfect match! Harvard University’s best couple!] Nicholas also rarely showed up, and his tone was very relaxed: [Don’t talk nonsense. We’re friends.] Then someone asked: [Hey, where’s Serena Hayes? Didn’t she also apply to Harvard Law? Why haven’t we seen her among the freshmen?] Chloe replied instantly: [Maybe she’s still losing weight, hahaha. After all, there are plenty of pretty girls in law school. If she shows up at 250 pounds…] A string of laughing-crying emojis followed. Nicholas’s reply came right after: [She’s probably still throwing a tantrum. She’ll be here in a couple days.] Someone chimed in: [Nicholas, you know her pretty well.] He replied: [We grew up together. How could I not know what she’s like? She’ll calm down after making a fuss for a couple days.] I stared at that sentence for a long time. “How could I not know what she’s like?” Nicholas Reed. You really do not understand me at all. You do not know I have already slimmed down to 110 pounds. You do not know I am already in California, three thousand miles away. And you know even less that the Serena Hayes who used to chase after you is long dead. I closed the screenshots and calmly packed the clothes I would wear tomorrow. White shirt, black suit pants, blond hair. That was enough. September first. Stanford University freshman welcome ceremony. The campus main auditorium was full of freshmen. The freshman representative speech for the School of Computer Science was scheduled for last. I was the last person to go on stage. Backstage was noisy, and the students in front of me were so nervous their palms were sweating. Instead, I was very calm. Five foot nine. One hundred ten pounds. My white shirt was tucked into high-waisted trousers, and below my waistline, it was all legs. When the staff member in charge of the microphone adjusted the equipment for me, they could not help freezing for a moment. “You’re… a freshman from the School of Computer Science?” I smiled and said nothing. The last thought that passed through my mind was— Nicholas Reed was probably still waiting in the Harvard freshman group to see my name. Then keep waiting. “Next, please welcome the freshman representative of the School of Computer Science—Serena Hayes.” I stepped into the lights and walked onto the stage. The moment the spotlight fell on me. Thousands of people in the audience lost their voices at the same time. It was not silence. It was suffocation. As if everyone had forgotten how to breathe at the same time. Five foot nine. One hundred ten pounds. White shirt, black trousers, ponytail. No heavy makeup, no fancy dress. Only a clean, simple face. And the tiny mole at the corner of my eye. I walked step by step to the podium. The silence lasted three seconds. Then the auditorium seemed to explode. Screams, applause, and whistles rose one after another. They mixed together, shaking the whole auditorium with echoes. Someone stood up. One row. Two rows. Ten rows. People in the back kept raising their phones to take photos. When I reached the podium, I stood still. I tilted my head slightly. The light covered my whole body. I smiled. The shutter sounds were as dense as a rainstorm. I suddenly remembered what Nicholas said at prom three months ago. “She’ll never lose weight in this lifetime.” “If she looks even half as good as the cheer captain after losing weight, I’ll livestream myself eating crap.” At this moment, I stood before thousands of freshmen. I stood where the spotlight was brightest. Nicholas Reed. You owe me an apology. But. I no longer need it. After the welcome ceremony ended. Nina’s messages hit me like bombs. [Your photos are being shared everywhere online!!!! I can’t hold it in anymore, I’m posting them in the class group!!!!] I had not even had time to reply. She had already posted them. In the screenshot was her caption: [@everyone Nicholas Reed, you said if she looked half as good as the cheer captain after losing weight, you’d livestream yourself eating crap.] [Come on. Take a look. Is this enough to be half?] The photo was taken at the welcome ceremony just now. Under the lights. White shirt, black trousers, the moment I tilted my head. Five foot nine. One hundred ten pounds. A mole at the corner of my eye. Then the group exploded. Messages flooded the screen like a tidal wave. [???????? Who is this???? Is this Serena Hayes????] [No way!!! This isn’t Harvard University!!! It’s Photoshopped, right!!!] [Wait… is this Stanford????] [@Nicholas Reed Where are you?! Come out!! Do you admit what you said or not!!!]

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At my own wedding, Chloe, the charity student Ethan had been sponsoring, “accidentally” pushed me. The fall put me into a vegetative state. The doctors announced that I might never wake up. But I was actually conscious. I could hear everything, and I could see pictures in my mind. Ethan absolutely hated Chloe. On my first day in the hospital, Ethan forced her to her knees right in front of my bed to beg for forgiveness. Forced to kneel, she suddenly pulled out a knife, pressed it against her own neck, and confessed her love to him: “I’m sorry. I only did it because I love you so much.” “Since you don’t love me back, I might as well just die.” Ethan panicked. He knocked the knife out of her hand, and from that moment on, he couldn’t bring himself to say another harsh word to her. On my seventh day in the hospital, she kissed Ethan. He clenched his fists and closed his eyes, but he didn’t push her away. … By the first month of my hospitalization, Ethan moved my limp body to the very edge of our luxurious, oversized hospital bed. Right in front of me, he pressed Chloe down on the other side of the bed. The bed shook violently. The wild movements shook me right off the edge, and I crashed onto the cold floor. Yet, the two of them didn’t stop. Nobody noticed me lying motionless on the floor, a single, silent tear slipping from the corner of my eye. It wasn’t until six years later that I finally woke up.

Just the night before I fully regained consciousness. Ethan and Chloe were still messing around on my hospital bed. Chloe lay completely naked beneath him. Ethan’s shirt was hung wide open, his suit pants low on his hips. With his broad shoulders and narrow waist, his thrusts were deep and relentless. Her moans were sweet and clingy, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist. … Maybe their heavy panting was just too disgusting, because the next day, I actually woke up. My hands and feet could move. I could sit up. My attending physician called my husband, Ethan, five times before he finally showed up. He kicked the ward door open, but then froze at the entrance, hesitating to take a step forward. My face was pale as I propped myself up slightly and smiled at him. “Long time no see, Ethan.” Ethan stumbled back, his eyes instantly turning red. He rushed forward, grabbed my hand, and began to tremble uncontrollably. “Olivia… the doctor said you were awake, but I couldn’t believe it. It’s really you… You’re really…” I looked up at his familiar face. The nurse on duty had just told me that I had been in a coma for six whole years. Six years hadn’t left many marks on Ethan’s face. He had just changed his hairstyle. His once-passionate eyes were now hidden behind gold-rimmed glasses, and the casual grey hoodies he used to love had been replaced by a sharp, tailored suit. He looked as polished as a male lead in a drama. To me, he just felt a little like a stranger. Before I could speak, another figure darted into the room, throwing herself to the floor right at my feet, weeping hysterically. “Olivia, you’re really awake! This is amazing! What happened back then… I’m so sorry, I’m so, so sorry…” I froze. But Ethan had already frowned, stepped forward, and pulled her up without hesitation. “The floor is freezing. Why are you kneeling? Stand up and talk.” He glanced at me. “Olivia is kind-hearted; she won’t hold it against you. Chloe, don’t do stupid things like this ever again.” Chloe looked up at him with tearful eyes, and Ethan awkwardly averted his gaze. I opened my mouth, but swallowed the words back down. Ethan seemed to have forgotten to ask me if I actually chose to forgive her. He poured me a glass of warm water and shot Chloe a look. “Go handle Olivia’s discharge paperwork. Hurry up.” As she turned to leave, he frowned again and called her back. He took off his suit jacket and tossed it over her head. “Look at the weather today. Why are you wearing such a short skirt? Chloe, do you even have a brain?” Once the room was quiet again and it was just the two of us, Ethan sat silently beside me. I looked out the window. The empty lot in my memory was now filled with towering skyscrapers. Just like Ethan, who used to share everything with me, but had now given all his emotions—his anger, his pity, his resentment—to someone else. Leaving only endless silence between us. After finishing the discharge process, I followed Ethan quietly. I listened to him complain with a frown about how many mistakes Chloe made at work and how careless she was. He stopped in front of a completely unfamiliar car and unlocked it. Chloe naturally opened the passenger door and slid inside. It wasn’t until both of them had buckled their seatbelts that Ethan seemed to snap back to reality. Panic flashed across his face as he opened the back door for me. “Our old car was ready for the scrap yard. I found a good deal, so I replaced it.” A pink dreamcatcher hung from the rearview mirror. The car air freshener was no longer my favorite freesia. Even though the scent was faint, I recognized it instantly. It was Chloe’s perfume. The car drove quietly through the streets. The cabin was filled with suffocating silence. I stared at the unfamiliar street views until he pulled up to my apartment building. He turned to me with an apologetic expression. “Olivia, you just got discharged. Go home and rest first. I have to run and meet a client. This case is extremely important, and I really can’t delay it. I’m sorry.” I stood on the pavement, watching him drive off with Chloe. Looking up at the tall building in front of me, my eyes finally burned. This was the penthouse we had renovated together right before the wedding. I had fantasized countless times about walking hand-in-hand with him through this neighborhood, carrying groceries back to cook a nice dinner. If only that accident hadn’t happened. I unlocked the door. Everything inside was arranged exactly as it had been six years ago. Even the calendar on the table was still turned to that exact date six years ago. It was as if nothing had changed. Except the fridge was unplugged, and the master closet was completely empty. At 2 a.m., I woke up from a nightmare. I reached out, but the space beside me was ice-cold. The living room was pitch black. I pulled out my old phone and dialed the number I knew by heart. “Ethan, where are you?” On the other end of the line, his voice was muffled and groggy, as if he had just been woken up. “What? I’m at home.” My tears finally spilled over. “Which home?”

Half an hour later, Ethan rushed through the door, panting. He knelt by my feet, his eyes filled with apology and pain. After a long silence, he spoke in a low voice. “I’m sorry, Olivia. I…” “After your accident, I was in too much pain. I couldn’t live in this apartment. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw you standing next to me, talking about the renovation.” He gently took my hand and pulled me into his arms. It sounded like a promise, but also like he was trying to convince himself. “Olivia, tomorrow I’ll take you to our law firm. I’ll stay with you, and together, we’ll get back those six years you lost.” I caught the scent of Chloe’s perfume on his collar. Suddenly, I realized this was the first hug we had shared since I woke up. The next day, Ethan drove his new car, catching me up on how the firm had grown over the last six years. His phone kept ringing throughout the drive. He had long lost his youthful innocence and now talked and laughed with clients like a seasoned professional. Ethan and I used to be the top two students at Columbia Law School. After graduation, we founded Vanguard Law Firm with a few friends. Back then, we huddled in a shabby, rented office. The nameplate on the door was handwritten by me. Ethan’s eyes had been so bright back then. He had hung that paper nameplate up with absolute care, holding my hand and whispering, “Olivia, we are going to make it big.” But now, standing in this luxurious high-rise, looking at the gleaming metal plaque and a sea of completely unfamiliar faces, I finally realized that everyone had moved on. Only I was trapped in the past. Ethan ruffled my hair. “I kept an office reserved just for you when we moved here. I knew destiny wouldn’t be so cruel to me. Finally, you’re back.” Before he could finish, he noticed the wide-open office door and the people busy moving boxes inside. He frowned. “What are you guys doing?” Chloe froze with a stack of case files in her arms. But it was the round-faced girl next to her who spoke up. “You promised this office to Chloe last week, Ethan. Don’t tell me you forgot.” Chloe’s face went pale as she looked at him with a miserable expression. Ethan looked away and said coldly, “Olivia is back. This office belongs to her.” Chloe’s voice shook, almost crying. “Why? You promised…” Ethan cut her off coldly. “No whys, Chloe. You’re the one who begged to stay at Vanguard. If you don’t like it, you can leave anytime.” Chloe covered her face and ran out crying. The round-faced girl stomped her foot in anger and couldn’t help but snap, “Ethan, everyone saw how much Chloe did for you over these years. You’re being way too harsh. You’re breaking her heart!” She glared at me fiercely, then chased after Chloe. I saw Ethan’s feet instinctively twitch as if to follow her, but he forced himself to stop. He stood there, his right hand clenching into a tight fist. The remaining strangers in the office shot me looks of obvious disapproval. They didn’t say anything, but their eyes said everything. I could barely hold back the urge to scream. I’m just taking back what was originally mine. Why does it feel like I’m the villain here? I looked at Ethan’s tense face and asked softly, “Where are Harper and Julian?” The room went dead silent. Ethan kept a heavy expression for a long time before speaking. “Harper and Julian left Vanguard a while ago to start their own firm.” “I told them you woke up. We’re having dinner together tonight.” He looked down at me. “Olivia, rest here for a bit. I have to take care of something.” With that, he walked out with long strides. I stood in front of the massive floor-to-ceiling window and let out a bitter laugh. No wonder Chloe wanted this office so badly. It was spacious, bright, and had an incredible view. It was so clear that, even from up here, I could see the man and woman embracing in the rain downstairs. They looked so familiar.

We met up at our old favorite spot. The moment I pushed the door open, my best friend, Harper, threw herself at me, crying and laughing at the same time. “Olivia! You’re awake! You’re really awake! He didn’t lie to me!” She punched my shoulder playfully but hard. “Olivia Vance, how could you? Six years! How dare you make me wait that long!” When she saw Ethan walking in behind me, her expression instantly soured. She wiped her tears. “Julian is in Europe handling a case, but he already knows. He’s wrapping things up and will fly back immediately.” She held my hand tightly, as if I would vanish if she let go. My eyes welled up. This was what a reunion was supposed to feel like. The door opened again, and Chloe stood there timidly, holding a gift bag. Harper’s face dropped instantly. “Ethan, what the hell is this? Why did you bring her here? Are you trying to disgust us?” Ethan frowned. “Chloe wanted to apologize to Olivia face-to-face for what happened. She made a mistake, but she’s spent these years trying to make up for it.” Harper let out a cold laugh. “Make up for it? The person she put in a coma for six years is Olivia! If she wanted to make up for it, she should have been kneeling by Olivia’s hospital bed day and night! Instead, she begged to crawl into Vanguard, using ‘atonement’ as an excuse to hover around you every day, playing your little assistant and taking care of your daily life. Ethan, you keep saying you hate her and want to make her life miserable. Did you say those lies so many times that you actually started believing them?” The reunion dinner ended in a disaster. I gave Harper an apologetic hug before leaving. On the way home, Ethan was completely distracted while driving and almost rear-ended the car in front of us. His phone kept buzzing. He picked it up and put it down several times, and finally, “accidentally” unlocked it. Chloe’s sobbing voice filled the car through the speaker. “I know she’s back. I should leave. But I just can’t accept it, Ethan. I only did it because I love you. Why does it have to hurt this much?” “If I was the one who got hurt six years ago, would you have remembered me?” “Maybe everything was a mistake. I wish I had died in that accident instead.” Ethan slammed on the brakes. The screeching of the tires made my heart skip a beat. His face was terrifyingly dark. He turned to me, hesitating. “She was really treated unfairly in the office today. I’m worried she might do something stupid…” My face was pale, but I forced a smile. “Go ahead. A life is on the line, after all.” Ethan looked relieved. He pulled over, let me out, and sped off into the night. I called a cab and went to Green-Wood Cemetery. My dad’s and Ethan’s mother’s photos smiled back at me from their headstones. Ethan and I had been neighbors since we were kids, growing up in the same Brooklyn neighborhood. Ten years ago, a devastating building collapsed in Manhattan. My dad and Ethan’s mother used their last breaths to shield us under the rubble, staying buried forever. Ethan had refused to cry back then. He held me tightly, repeating over and over: “Olivia, from now on, we are each other’s only family. We will never be apart.” I sat quietly in front of the headstone, talking to them in a soft voice. “It’s been a while since I visited. Don’t be mad at me. I had a good excuse, so don’t be petty.” The night wind blew past, and I felt a sudden chill on my face. I reached up and realized my face was covered in tears. The wind carried my quiet whisper. “What should I do, Dad? I don’t think I have a home anymore.”

On my first official day back at Vanguard, Ethan handed me the firm’s most important case. But staring at the endless files on the screen, I felt completely lost. Six years had passed. Laws had changed, new precedents had been set, and even the filing software had been upgraded three times. I held a red pen, proofreading every single word, terrified of making a mistake. The round-faced girl walked past my desk carrying some folders. She glanced at my screen and rolled her eyes. “Olivia, what year are we in? Just upload it to ChatGPT. Why waste your time like this?” My hand froze. I looked up, confused. “What is… ChatGPT?” She gasped, then burst into laughter as if she had heard the funniest joke in the world, walking away with a smirk. My hand started to tremble as I held my phone. Feeling like an absolute clown, I typed that name into the search bar. Six years ago, Ethan and I huddled in that drafty office with two secondhand laptops. When the power went out, we lit candles, using the dim light to find loopholes in contracts line by line. He would ruffle my hair and say, “Don’t worry, Olivia. We have all the time in the world.” But now, time had marched on and left me behind. I looked up to find Ethan, only to see him standing side-by-side with Chloe. With just a single glance from him, she knew exactly what to do. After a phone call, Ethan smiled gently and patted her head encouragingly, just like he used to do to me. “We won the case for Horizon Tech. Chloe did an amazing job. Sushi is on me tonight!” The entire office erupted into cheers. Chloe blushed, looking shyly at Ethan. Everyone gathered around to discuss where to eat. Only I stared at the blinking cursor on my screen, letting out a bitter laugh. Chloe broke away from the crowd and walked into my office, holding a cup of coffee with a sweet smile. “Olivia, have some coffee and take a break.” I reached out to take it, but her hand suddenly slipped. The boiling hot coffee spilled all over the case files I had just proofread. “I’m so sorry, Olivia! It was an accident…” Right then, Ethan pushed the door open. His face darkened instantly as he snapped, “Chloe, I praise you once and you get sloppy. Can you do anything right? Get out.” But when he looked at me, he only gave a brief nod, saying nothing more. After that, “accidents” like this happened constantly. My files would mysteriously disappear, evidence would go missing, and clients would complain that I never replied to their emails. Every single time, Chloe would stand in front of Ethan with red eyes, admitting her mistakes. And every single time, Ethan would scold her with a cold face, but ultimately let her off easy, leaving me with no ground to stand on. Until she made another “accident.” I couldn’t help but look at her coldly. She suddenly broke down, covering her face and running toward the door. “I know you all blame me! I’m just a nuisance anyway! I’ll leave…” This time, Ethan didn’t even look at me. He ran after her instantly. I stood by the window and watched them screaming and arguing in the pouring rain. Then, as if he couldn’t hold back anymore, Ethan pulled her into his arms, bending down to kiss her passionately. They looked like star-crossed lovers in a drama who had finally overcome everything to be together. And I, the “ghost from the past” who was supposed to have died six years ago, touched my eyes. There were no tears left to cry. I silently packed my few belongings and walked out of this place that was once so familiar, yet now so foreign. Whether Ethan hated Chloe or loved her, I didn’t care anymore. I would let them have their twisted love story. It was raining lightly outside. As I hesitated to step into the rain, an umbrella appeared over my head, and a deep voice sounded from behind. “I’m sorry I came back so late.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “442024”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

I had worked for U.S. Customs and Border Protection (CBP) for five years. Because my extraordinary sense of smell was a classified asset, Julian always believed I was just a boring, low-level desk clerk. On our third wedding anniversary, I saw my husband at the airport arrivals gate—the same husband who had texted me saying he had to work late. He was gently tucking a strand of hair behind his ex-girlfriend Bianca’s ear, smiling with a tenderness he hadn’t shown me in years. When he noticed me, he dropped his hand as if nothing had happened, instinctively shielding Bianca behind his back. “Elena, are you tracking me? It’s just an anniversary. Would it kill you to spend one night alone?” “Just say it. What do you want this time to shut up? A designer bag? Shoes? Or is it jewelry?” The surrounding travelers threw disdainful glances at me. It felt like a public slap to my face. I pushed the ultrasound report back into my coat pocket and clenched my trembling fists. “I didn’t track you!” “Julian,” Bianca spoke up, her voice sweet and dripping with pity. “Thanks for picking me up, but your wife is more important. Go home and keep her company. And don’t be so harsh on her. Apologize.” Julian gave me a dry, forced shrug. “Sorry.” I stared at him, my heart sinking. When had the arrogant Julian Cole ever been this obedient to anyone? Bianca patted his shoulder, took her suitcase, and headed toward the customs gate. Suddenly, a strange, toxic odor wafted into my nose. I stepped forward and blocked her path. “Excuse me. Please open your suitcase. CBP inspection.”

Bianca froze, looking utterly bewildered. Before she could speak, Julian sneered. “Elena, you’re taking this drama way too far! Who do you think you are to stop Bianca?” “Julian, your wife seems really mad this time,” Bianca smiled bitterly, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the handle of her suitcase. Julian stormed over, grabbed my wrist violently, and dragged me back. “Elena, you’re a basic office clerk. Where do you get the nerve to pretend to be a CBP officer?” Bianca lowered her eyes, acting helpless. “Julian, forget it. She’s probably just too insecure…” “Insecure?” Julian scoffed. “She’s just petty and jealous.” He glared at me, his veins popping as he suppressed his rage. “Do you even know where Bianca came from? She just flew back from an active epidemic zone!” “She was out there saving lives in a war-torn country, and what about you? All you care about is discounted purses and spying on me! You are mediocre and selfish. You don’t even compare to a single hair on her head!” Every word he spat was laced with poison, stabbing straight into my chest. But the concentration of the toxic odor was rising. If this suitcase passed the exit and entered the public area—the consequences would be catastrophic. Seeing that I wouldn’t budge, Bianca bit her lower lip. She suddenly gasped and collapsed softly into Julian’s arms. “Julian… my hand hurts so much. I think the old injury from the hot zone is acting up…” Julian immediately let go of my wrist to hold her tight. His face was filled with sheer panic and worry. “Bianca! Are you okay? Do we need to go to the ER?” He turned to me, his eyes filled with murderous rage. “Elena, if anything happens to her, I will make you pay.” “Ms. Sterling,” I said, ignoring his anger. “Please cooperate and open the suitcase.” “Why the hell should she cooperate with you?” Julian stood up, blocking Bianca, looking down at me with pure disgust. “You’re in plain clothes, you have no badge, and no warrant. What right do you have?” He was right. Today was my day off. I wasn’t in uniform, and my ID was locked in the office safe. Seeing my silence, Julian sneered. “Elena, you always do this. You make a scene, and when things get out of hand, you play the victim.” The crowd of onlookers grew larger, their whispers echoing like a tide. “Is that woman crazy? What does another person’s suitcase have to do with her?” “She probably lost her mind because her husband’s ex-girlfriend came back.” Bianca stood up, gently patting Julian’s arm. “Don’t be mad. Elena is just acting out of jealousy. How about I just open it for her?” Her tone was so graceful and reasonable, making me look like a hysterical shrew. Julian’s eyes softened even more. “You don’t have to tolerate her.” Bianca shook her head with a smile, her fingers reaching for the suitcase’s combination lock. But I noticed that while she was spinning the dial, her thumb quickly pressed a small hidden button on the side of the lid. She was releasing something inside. My pupils dilated. I lunged forward and slammed my hand over hers. “Don’t touch it!” Julian completely snapped. He shoved me hard. I stumbled backward and crashed violently against the metal barricade. A sharp, stabbing pain exploded in my lower abdomen. I doubled over, clutching my stomach as cold sweat instantly drenched my back. Julian didn’t even look at me. He put his arm around Bianca’s shoulder, picked up the suitcase, and walked toward the exit. “Julian. Stop right there.” He paused, looking back with an impatient, cold sneer. “Elena, what else do you want? Do you want me to say it in front of everyone? Fine—I regret marrying you. Is that enough?” “I’ve regretted it for three years.” He said those words in a calm, flat voice in front of the entire terminal. I took a step back, unable to believe this was the same man who, three years ago, had stood up against his own father just to protect me. On our wedding night, he had handed me his cards and vowed in front of my late mother’s photo. He had promised to love and protect me forever. Now, everything had changed.

Bianca held Julian’s arm, her eyes cast down, but a faint, triumphant smile played on her lips. I had seen that exact smile in the old photos Julian kept hidden in his desk. “Sir,” an airport security guard ran over, breathing heavily. “We received a complaint that someone is causing a scene and blocking passengers?” Julian immediately pointed at me. “My wife. She’s mentally unstable. She saw me talking to a friend and lost her mind.” “Ma’am, please do not obstruct other passengers,” the guard said, turning to me. I forced myself to stand straight despite the agonizing pain, my palms soaked in cold sweat. “I have probable cause to believe that suitcase contains bio-hazardous contraband. Please assist me in detaining her.” The guard frowned. “Do you have credentials?” I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Julian mocked from the side, “She’s a basic desk clerk earning minimum wage. What credentials could she possibly have?” Bianca spoke up at the perfect moment, her voice sweet and harmless. “I’m a member of Doctors Without Borders. I just returned from West Africa. The suitcase only contains my personal belongings and medical journals. This lady… must have misunderstood.” She pulled out an ID card from her purse and handed it to the guard. The guard took a look, and his expression instantly relaxed. “Since you have official credentials… Ma’am, please step aside…” “The ID is fake,” I said. The terminal fell dead silent for a second, followed by even louder laughter from the crowd. “Oh, now she claims it’s fake! Why don’t you show us a real one then?” “Is this woman so jealous she’s losing her mind?” “Her husband literally said she’s crazy. Poor guy, marrying a psychopath.” Julian’s face turned completely black. He strode over to me, lowering his voice to an threatening whisper. “Bianca and I are clean. Stop your disgusting accusations. Elena, leave with me right now, and I might give you one last chance.” I didn’t budge. “You’re not leaving?” He grabbed my arm, trying to drag me away. “Julian, don’t touch me! I’m pregnant!” “Playing this card again?” His voice was filled with sheer disgust. “Last time we had a fight over my student, you faked a migraine to go to the hospital. Now you’re pregnant? If you were really pregnant, you’d be resting at home instead of throwing a tantrum at the airport!” Bianca stood nearby, one hand on the suitcase handle, her other hand searching for something inside her purse. The suitcase was about to pass the security gate. I ignored Julian, pushed past him, and rushed toward the wall three meters away. There was a red button under a protective plastic cover, with a label that read: *Level 1 Biohazard Alert.* I flipped the cover open and slammed my palm down. An ear-splitting alarm instantly blared through the entire terminal. Red warning lights flashed frantically. The noisy crowd silenced for a few seconds before erupting into a massive panic. Bianca froze. Her hand stopped inside her purse, her fingers trembling. Julian, seeing that I had actually triggered the alarm, rushed over in a fury. He raised his hand high, the wind from his palm brushing my face. He looked ready to slap me. But his hand stopped in mid-air. Not because he spared me, but because everyone was watching. As a self-righteous university professor, his reputation couldn’t afford the scandal of hitting a woman in public. Instead, he poked my forehead hard, pushing my head back. “Do you know what the penalty for a false alarm is? Jail! Fines! You don’t care about your reputation, but I care about mine!” “You’re just a clerk. What right do you have to press that button? Do you even know what it means?” He really didn’t know. He had never cared about my job, nor had he ever asked what I actually did. Every time I worked overtime, he would only say, “What’s so busy about a trash job?” For three years, in his eyes, I was just a useless, dependent ornament he had to support. “Make way! Clear the area!” A HAZMAT team in full protective gear rushed out from the side corridor, pushing a sealed containment cart. The security captain ran at the front, his radio buzzing. “Level 1 triggered in Zone A3. No visible leak. Requesting immediate backup!” Bianca stood stiffly by the gate, her suitcase locked behind the emergency barrier. Her panic lasted less than a second before she regained her composure. She even offered a warm, polite smile to the hazmat team. “Officer, I am a registered physician with the International Red Cross.” “This woman is having a domestic dispute with her husband. She falsely triggered the alarm just to harass me.” The supervisor looked at her documents, then at me—pale, in plain clothes, and looking exhausted. He was clearly swayed by her credentials. He turned to me with a stern face. “Ma’am, this is a federal customs area, not a place for you to settle your marriage problems.”

Julian turned to the HAZMAT captain, put on his elegant professor persona, and apologized. “Officer, I am so sorry. My wife has been emotionally unstable lately. She probably did this because we had a fight…” “We are incredibly sorry for the trouble. This is all just a big misunderstanding!” “This woman is out of her mind! She literally claimed someone was carrying a bioweapon. Now we’re all stuck here.” “I feel so bad for the doctor. She went abroad to save lives, only to come back and deal with this psycho.” “If I were him, I would have divorced her a long time ago. She deserves a good beating.” Listening to their words, my nails dug deep into my palms. The hazmat team was following protocol, but they needed my federal ID number to bypass standard procedures and initiate a forced search. But my phone had been smashed when Julian pushed me earlier. Without my phone, I couldn’t reach my supervisor. Without my ID, the hazmat team wouldn’t authorize the search. Julian stepped closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. “If you kneel down right now, apologize to Bianca, and admit you did this just to get my attention…” “I might consider using my status as a professor to bail you out of the police station.” Kneel down. Apologize to Bianca. I looked at the face of the man I had loved for three years, and for the first time, he felt like an utter stranger. “Julian,” my voice was quiet but steady. “I gave you your last chance to walk away from her.” “Are you threatening me?” He scoffed, his eyes filled with contempt. “It’s not a threat.” I looked straight into his eyes. “From this moment on, you will bear the full legal consequences of your choices.” Hearing this, Bianca’s eyes flashed with impatience. With a click, she spun the dial, unlocked the suitcase, and flung it open in front of everyone. “Since you want to see it so badly, look!” “Everyone, please be my witness. If they don’t find any contraband, I will make sure she rots in jail.” Bianca’s suitcase lay open on the clean tiled floor. Inside, there were only a few ordinary clothes. In the corner, there were a few designer makeup cases and a thick stack of handwritten medical notes in English. The crowd burst into laughter. “That’s it? A biohazard? She really is insane!” “What a drama queen. It’s just normal luggage, and she tried to frame her.” “How vicious. This crazy woman should be locked up.” Julian, eager to end this and leave with Bianca, turned to the airport security. “Don’t waste your time. Just take her away.” “My wife is sick. She has a hereditary mental illness.” He pointed at his head, his face filled with disgust. Those words were like a rusted dagger plunging straight into my heart. Years ago, when my father cheated on my mother, he had publicly accused her of being mentally ill. He drove my mother to despair, leading her to jump from the eighteenth floor of our apartment building. That was the deepest, bleeding wound in my heart. Julian knew everything. Yet, to protect his ex-girlfriend, he didn’t hesitate to stab me right where it hurt the most. “Look at you, hysterical and pathetic. How are you any different from your mother who jumped off that building?” “Equally crazy, equally unreasonable.” The whispers around us changed. The mockery turned into fear. Several bystanders stepped back, as if afraid I would suddenly lose my mind and attack them. A mother pulled her child behind her. “Where are the guards? Get her out of here before she hurts someone!” The security guards exchanged glances and began to surround me. “I am not crazy. And my mother wasn’t either,” I whispered, my voice trembling, but I forced every word out clearly. But no one listened. Someone shoved me roughly, trying to drag me away. “Get her out of here! Stop her from ruining the airport!” In the chaos, I was pushed to the cold floor. A warm, thick liquid began to trickle down my inner thighs. I grabbed Julian’s pant leg, my voice shaking with terror. “Julian… I’m really pregnant. Please…” Julian didn’t bend down to help me. Instead, he kicked my hand away with disgust. “Elena, even if you are pregnant,” he paused, his lips curling into a cruel sneer, “I wouldn’t want this child anyway. Who knows what ticking time bomb is buried in your family’s genes? I don’t want to raise a kid who’s destined to jump off a building.”

“Let’s go, Bianca. You just got back. Let me take you out for a nice dinner. Where do you want to go?” People were laughing. Some were filming with their phones. I lay on the freezing floor, feeling my life slowly draining away. “Get up, ma’am. Stop making a scene.” The guards pulled me up. My knees were weak, and my vision began to turn black. Bianca picked up her suitcase and took two steps toward the exit— *BANG!* The heavy glass doors were kicked open. Black tactical shields rushed into the terminal, followed by a squad of fully armed CBP Special Agents. Their rifles immediately locked onto every moving target near the exit. Everyone froze. Bianca’s hand went stiff on the suitcase handle. Julian’s face turned from arrogant contempt to shock, then to absolute terror. Aiden Brooks, wearing black tactical gear, rushed over to me. When he saw my pale face and the blood on my legs, his pupils shrunk. I pointed weakly at Bianca’s suitcase. “The suitcase… the makeup powder cases… the hidden compartment…” “Elena, you’re bleeding! It’s a miscarriage!” Aiden wrapped his tactical jacket around me and lifted me into his arms, his voice deep and urgent. “Call an ambulance! Now!” His men immediately responded on their radios. As Aiden carried me toward the exit, his eyes swept over Bianca and the suitcase. He threw out two words: “Search it. Thoroughly.” Julian finally snapped out of his shock and tried to block him. “On what authority—” “She is our Senior Customs Consultant, executing federal duties when she triggered the alarm. That is our authority,” Aiden said, his voice cold as ice. “Obstruct us again, and you’ll be arrested for federal obstruction of justice.” Julian froze, unable to move a muscle as he watched Aiden carry me out of the terminal. In the ambulance, the paramedic tried to stop the bleeding. I clutched Aiden’s wrist, my voice barely a whisper. “The powder cases… the hidden layer… it smells like blood.” “I know. We received the intel. Stop talking, save your strength.” Aiden pressed his hand over mine, his warm palm transferring heat to my cold skin. “The ambulance is almost at the hospital. Hang in there.” I looked at the swaying IV drip above me, my vision blurring. “Julian… does he…” “We will find out if he was involved,” Aiden’s voice was incredibly steady. “Don’t think about him right now. Just focus on yourself.” Before I lost consciousness, my last thought was: *Thank god I pressed that alarm. Thank god she didn’t get that suitcase out.* Back in the terminal, Bianca was whispering in disbelief. “No… how could she smell it…” her voice was hoarse and broken. She took a step back, then another, until she hit the tactical shield of an agent. Two agents immediately grabbed her arms, pinning her to the floor. She screamed in panic, “You made a mistake! Those are just cosmetic research samples! I have transport permits!” “Take her in for interrogation!” When I woke up in the hospital, the sharp smell of disinfectant filled my nose. I moved my fingers, and Aiden immediately sat up from the chair beside my bed. “You’re awake? How do you feel? I’ll call the doctor.” I pulled on his sleeve, my throat burning. He quickly turned around, poured a cup of warm water, and helped me sit up to drink it. The warmth spread down my throat. Only then did I ask in a hoarse voice, “The baby?” Aiden’s hand paused. His eyes softened with deep regret. “I’m sorry, Elena. You lost too much blood. The doctor said the fetus was… already too weak.” I had already guessed the outcome, but hearing it still felt like a physical blow to my chest. I turned my face away, wiping my tears, and asked, “What about Bianca?” “She confessed. She was paid $500,000 by a hostile foreign organization to smuggle a deadly pathogen. She was planning to release it in a highly populated area.” Aiden paused. “Julian knew nothing about the pathogen. He was just a fool who went to pick her up.” “He’s been waiting outside the room. He says he wants to see you.” “Get me a lawyer,” I said coldly. “I want a divorce.”

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To deceive a rival syndicate, my mafia husband didn’t hesitate to put on an intimate show with his female subordinate right on their turf. When he returned, holding the nearly naked woman in his arms, he knelt before me. “Serena, it was just a cover to keep our identities safe. I had no other choice!” Despite the searing pain in my heart, I chose to believe him. But six months later, he came to beg me again. “Serena, Scarlett is pregnant with my baby! The child is innocent. Once the baby is born, I’ll let you raise it as your own, okay?” My heart twisted as if stabbed by a thousand knives. I forced back the tears welling in my eyes. Behind my back, I crumpled the pregnancy test report in my hand into a tight ball. I was pregnant with his child, too. But he would never know. I remained silent for a long time, my eyes locked onto the two of them. Dominic immediately pulled Scarlett closer into his embrace, frowning at me. “Serena, Scarlett has already agreed. She will hand the baby over to you right after giving birth. You don’t need to threaten her. She has no intention of ruining our marriage.” I spoke, my voice deathly calm. “Dominic, let’s get a divorce.” Panic flashed across Dominic’s face. He reached out to grab my hand, pleading once more. “Serena, can you please stop making a scene? Scarlett and I only did what we had to do to survive. The baby is innocent. You can’t be this heartless to an unborn child!” His tone sounded humble, but every word was an excuse. Seeing my pale face, the others in the room couldn’t sit still. Dominic’s loyal brothers from the syndicate also began to press me. “Yeah, Serena, Scarlett is already pregnant. Honestly, even if Dominic marries her, she deserves it!” “Serena, you’re just a housewife now. You have no idea how dangerous it was out there. At the critical moment, Scarlett sacrificed her own body and honor to save Dominic. Don’t make a mountain out of a molehill.” “If you ask me, Dominic should just take Scarlett as his second wife!” “Shut up!” Dominic roared, cutting them off. “Serena will always be my only wife! As for Scarlett, I will compensate her.” He looked down at the pregnant woman in his arms, a flash of genuine heartache crossing his face. A bitter taste rose in my throat. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. The others might not have known, but Dominic knew. I used to fight right alongside him. Back then, to settle a turf war, I was ordered to infiltrate an underground syndicate but accidentally blew my cover. At the final, deadliest moment, Dominic risked his life to pull me out. Later, he swore he would protect me for the rest of my life. And now, he was kneeling before me again—only this time, it was to protect another woman. I turned around in silence and walked away. Dominic quickly caught up with me. He gently draped his heavy coat over my shoulders and tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “It’s cold outside. Don’t catch a chill.” His warm, familiar scent instantly wrapped around me. I was so close to telling him that I was pregnant too. But his next words stopped me dead in my tracks. “Serena, Scarlett is very sensitive to the cold. I need you to let her have this villa for now. You can temporarily move out and stay somewhere else.” The words in my throat were forced back down, suffocating me. This villa was our home after we got married. I had decorated every single corner of it myself. And he knew better than anyone that I had no other home to go to. Ever since I decided to retire from military intelligence to marry him, my father had completely disowned me. Once, Dominic couldn’t bear to see me suffer even a tiny bit of discomfort. Now, he wanted me to hand over everything to Scarlett. His heart was no longer with me. I lowered my eyes and gave a faint nod. “Okay.” Overjoyed, Dominic pressed a soft kiss onto my forehead. “Serena, I knew you were the most understanding woman.”

I lay alone on the cold operating table. The doctor held my hand, offering a sympathetic look. “Mrs. Thorne, due to your old physical injuries, I am so sorry… but we couldn’t save the baby.” The pain was unbearable. I gripped the bedsheets tightly as tears slid down my temples in silence. Suddenly, my phone rang. The nurse swiped the screen and held it to my ear. Dominic’s furious roar exploded through the speaker: “Serena! You have completely disappointed me! How could you do this to Scarlett?!” Confused and exhausted, I whispered in a raspy voice: “What… what are you talking about?” “Scarlett has been kidnapped! And the kidnappers sent me a location—it’s the beach villa under your name!” Dominic screamed hysterically. That villa was a private asset my father had gifted me when I retired. But after I chose to marry Dominic and broke ties with my family, I had never stepped foot in that place again. “Who else could it be but you?!” Dominic raged. I was in too much pain to speak. I could only shake my head frantically. But Dominic couldn’t see me. Hearing no response, he snapped viciously: “If anything happens to Scarlett or the baby, I will make you pay a thousand times over!” The line went dead, leaving only the mechanical beep. The nurse gave me an awkward, pitying look and put the phone away. I closed my eyes in utter exhaustion. My heart was completely numb. When the surgery was over, the nurse wheeled me out of the operating room. Before I could even open my eyes, Dominic suddenly appeared. Ignoring the doctor’s protests, he ripped the blanket off me and grabbed my wrist in a crushing grip. “Get up. You’re coming with me.” The doctor rushed over in a panic. “She just had surgery! She can’t leave the bed yet, you can’t—” “Get out of my way.” Dominic shoved the doctor aside and violently dragged me off the bed. A sharp, tearing pain shot through my lower abdomen. I nearly collapsed right there. “Dominic, I can’t…” Before I could finish, I was shoved brutally into the back of his SUV. The sheer pain caused me to black out almost instantly. I don’t know how much time passed before a bucket of ice-cold water shocked me awake. I gasped, my eyes flying open in confusion. Dominic threw the empty metal bucket onto the concrete floor with a loud clang. He stepped forward and grabbed me by the throat. “Serena, have I been too soft on you over the years? Is that why you’ve become so cruel and spoiled that you can’t even spare an unborn child?!” My body shook uncontrollably. I trembled, barely able to form words through my blue lips. “I… I didn’t do it. It wasn’t me…” But Dominic didn’t believe a single word. With bloodshot eyes, he dragged me out of the car and threw me into the beach villa. Scarlett was tied to a concrete pillar in the living room, her pregnant belly prominent. She was crying hysterically. “Dominic! Thank God you’re here! Save our baby!” Seeing me, her tears flowed even faster. “Serena, if you hate me that much, I can leave! Why did you have to hurt my baby?!” I shook my head weakly. “It wasn’t me. I didn’t do anything!” “Boss, the perimeter is clear. The kidnappers must have fled,” Hunter, Dominic’s right-hand man, reported as he ran in. “The security cameras were wiped. They knew what they were doing.” Once they confirmed there was no danger, they quickly untied Scarlett. Dominic immediately pulled her into his arms, murmuring comforting words.

Dominic’s men spat on the ground near my feet, their faces filled with disgust. “Bitch! I never knew you could be this wicked!” “Exactly! You don’t even deserve to breathe the same air as Scarlett!” “Enough,” Dominic cut them off coldly, then looked down at me. “Serena, you went too far this time. You’re going to stay here and reflect on what you did.” Before leaving, he ordered his men to drag me out to the beach and chain me to a wooden pier. He carried Scarlett away without looking back. I collapsed onto the freezing sand, completely helpless. In the distance, I saw Scarlett turn her head. She flashed me a triumphant, mocking smirk. Three days later, the harsh sea wind had completely numbed my body. My lips were cracked and bleeding, and my eyes were dry from crying. Just when I thought I was going to die on this beach, a blurry silhouette slowly approached me. “Help… please…” I squeezed out the last bit of my strength, but it was barely a whisper. Before I lost consciousness, I heard a soft, heavy sigh. “Oh, Serena… what am I going to do with you?” When I woke up, I was lying on the cold concrete floor of the villa’s basement. As soon as I opened my eyes, I met Dominic’s cold, complicated gaze. “You’re awake?” He brought a glass of warm water to my lips, but I instinctively turned my head away. He slammed the glass onto the table. “Are you done throwing a tantrum?” The look in his eyes was pure disgust. “I decided not to press charges against you for Scarlett’s kidnapping, and you’re still acting like this? Can you stop being so bitter?” I let out a weak, mocking laugh. He didn’t even bother to investigate before pointing the finger at me. If I really wanted to destroy Scarlett, I could have done it six months ago. Why would I wait until now? “Dominic…” Scarlett’s weak voice echoed from the stairs. She held her belly, slowly walking down into the basement. “What are you doing down here?” Dominic immediately rushed over and gently held her. “I was worried about Serena, so I came to check on her. Is she okay?” Scarlett asked timidly. “Don’t worry about her. She won’t die that easily,” Dominic said, casting a loathing glance at me. “You’re going to stay in this basement for the next few months, until Scarlett safely delivers the baby.” With that, they left, and the heavy basement door slammed shut, plunging me into darkness. I forced myself to crawl over to the table and gulped down the water. With trembling hands, I reached into a dusty crate in the corner of the basement. I pulled out an encrypted satellite phone and dialed a familiar number. “Come pick me up. Now.” “Serena?! Is that really you? Oh my god… where are you?!” the voice on the other end gasped in pure excitement. “I still have a few things to settle. Wait for me.” “Okay. I’ll be there.” After hanging up, I looked down at myself. My body hadn’t recovered from the abortion at all. A sharp cramp seized my abdomen, and I could feel a warm flow trickling down my legs. I bit my lip so hard it bled. If I stayed here any longer, I would literally die. I dragged myself to the door and began to bang on it with my fists. “Help… someone help me…” After what felt like an eternity, the door lock clicked, and an annoyed voice sounded. “What do you want now?” It was Hunter. I looked up at him through the cracked door. “I’m bleeding. A lot. If you don’t let me out, I’m going to die here.” The floor beneath me was stained with fresh, crimson blood. “Fuck,” Hunter cursed under his breath. “Boss told us to keep you locked up, not to let you bleed to death.” He quickly pulled out the keys and unlocked the heavy door. As he knelt down to inspect my condition— I swiftly whipped the heavy iron chain around his neck. Hunter’s face turned purple instantly. “You—” I pulled the chain with everything I had, channeling my old military training, and slammed his head hard against the concrete wall. Thud! His eyes rolled back, and he slumped onto the floor, unconscious. I gasped for air, my muscles trembling violently. In the past, taking down an opponent like him would have taken me three seconds. But now, it had taken every single ounce of my remaining strength. Avoiding the security cameras, I made my way upstairs. But just as I reached the main foyer, the front door burst open. Dominic strode in, followed by a team of private doctors. Seeing me standing there, his face contorted with rage. He marched over in three long strides. Slap! A brutal blow struck my face.

My head snapped to the side, and the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. “Serena! Who gave you permission to do this?!” I had no idea what he was talking about. Dominic was out of his mind with rage. He kicked me squarely in the chest. His men immediately rushed forward, pinning my arms behind my back. I screamed in agonizing pain. Dominic pulled out a clear plastic bag and threw it in my face. Inside was an empty prescription bottle. “How do you explain this?! The doctor said these pills are uterine stimulants! They almost caused Scarlett to have a miscarriage!” I stared at the empty bottle, completely lost. Dominic sneered. “We found this in your private beach house. I was just about to come down and deal with you, but you managed to break out. I almost forgot how capable you are, Agent Serena.” The bleeding between my legs got worse. I could feel the warmth leaving my body, second by second. Noticing the pool of blood pooling around my feet, Dominic froze for a second, but then his eyebrows knitted in disgust. “Are you playing the pity card now? How pathetic.” Forced to my knees, I looked up at him and let out a bloody, tragic smile. “Dominic, since you hate me this much… let’s get a divorce.” Fury flared in Dominic’s eyes. He stepped closer and raised his hand to strike me again, but stopped mid-air. He clenched his fists, his voice dripping with venom. “Divorce? In your dreams. You will be my woman until the day you die!” I laughed bitterly. Years of marriage, and this is where we ended up. I was such a fool. From upstairs, Scarlett’s painful groans echoed through the house. Dominic’s expression changed instantly. With a wave of his hand, he led the medical team and rushed upstairs. A long time later, he came back down. Seeing me lying half-dead on the floor, a flicker of hesitation crossed his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by cold indifference. “Throw her out. Let her fend for herself.” Having received the order, Dominic’s men dragged me out and threw me into the back of an SUV. They drove down the desolate coastal highway. Once we reached a barren, rocky stretch, they kicked me out of the car, letting me roll onto the dirt. The sky quickly darkened. Dragging my bruised and battered body, I forced myself to crawl forward. The cold ocean wind made me shiver violently. Eventually, my legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the dirt. Just then, a few drunk scavengers wandered over from the direction of an abandoned pier. The leading man looked me up and down, a disgusting grin spreading across his face. “Well, well. Look what the tide washed in tonight.” “She’s a pretty one.” I tried to stand up and run, but my legs were like jelly. I fell right back down. They closed in on me. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ll take good care of you.” A dirty hand reached out toward my face. The next second, a blood-curdling scream echoed through the night. “Ahhh!” I weakly opened my eyes. The thugs were already on the ground, groaning in agony. A pair of strong, warm arms lifted me up. I looked up and met a pair of deeply worried eyes. “I’ve got you, Serena.”

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I proposed to my boyfriend, Marcus, twenty-six times over our seven years together. The first time, he said he wasn’t ready to settle down yet. The second time, he said he loved the sweet thrill of just dating. The fifth time, he said the proposal should be the man’s job. …… On the twenty-sixth time, he finally said yes. I was over the moon. I spent six months planning our dream wedding, but the date kept getting pushed back over and over again. Every time, Marcus would wrap his arms around me and pull me close. “Whether we have that piece of paper or not, I’m already yours, Chloe. A wedding is just a formality.” “My love for you is enough.” Thinking about how incredibly attentive and caring he had been over the last seven years, I convinced myself he just had a fear of commitment. So, I was willing to wait. Until today, when I was scrolling through Instagram and stumbled upon a trending post: Our First Chat Logs & Wedding Photos. The user bragged in the comments: “Only six months of dating, and he already couldn’t wait to marry me.” Everyone in the comments section was gushing over their fairytale romance. But I was frozen, staring at the groom in the photos. Wasn’t that my commitment-phobic boyfriend?

I put my phone down and looked toward the bathroom. Marcus was taking a shower. His phone was sitting right there on the nightstand. The lock screen was a picture of us in Bali last year. I picked it up and unlocked it. Nothing. His contacts list was clean. His Snapchat was clean. His gallery was clean. I let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh. There are so many look-alikes in this world. Maybe I was just seeing things. Just as I was about to put the phone back, the screen lit up. A message popped up from a contact saved as “Dr. Carter.” It was a photo. I froze. When did he even get to know a doctor? My finger moved on instinct, tapping open the photo. In the picture, my boyfriend was passionately kissing a strange woman. A woman I had never seen before in my life. “Dr. Carter” wasn’t a doctor at all. He had purposely changed her name to that because he knew even if I saw it, I wouldn’t suspect a thing. The sound of running water stopped. I quickly put the phone back exactly where it was. Marcus stepped out of the bathroom, drying his hair with a towel. Seeing me sitting up, his eyes filled with concern. “Chloe, honey, why aren’t you asleep yet? It’s so late.” He walked over and pressed the back of his hand to my forehead. “Are you on your period? Cramps? Let me get you some Midol and hot tea.” The moment he turned and walked into the kitchen, I grabbed his phone again. I opened the chat with Dr. Carter. The sweet, flirty messages between him and that woman were endless. “Did you miss me today?” “Always. Every second.” “I’m taking off next week. Can you make it?” “Of course. Just tell me where.” Photo after photo popped up. Restaurants, movie theaters, hotel hallways… There were even a few pictures of him sleeping, the warm, dim lighting illuminating a bedroom I had never seen before. I didn’t have the courage to scroll any further. I heard the water pouring in the kitchen, and then the light clicked off. Marcus walked back in, holding a steaming mug. “Here, drink it while it’s hot.” I took the mug. Watching the steam slowly rise and disappear into the air, I suddenly felt like the man standing in front of me was a complete stranger. I thought seven years was enough to truly know someone. But just five minutes ago, I realized he could play a double life so perfectly that not a single seam showed. Marcus sat down beside me. Just like he did every month during this time, he gently placed his hand on my lower stomach. “Let me rub it for you. It’ll feel better soon.” I instinctively shrank back a little. “I’m just really tired. I want to sleep.” He paused for a second but didn’t say anything. He pulled the blanket up over my shoulders. “Okay, get some rest. Let me know if it hurts too much.” Marcus lay down beside me. In the darkness, his hand crept back over, resting on my waist, gently massaging me. I closed my eyes, staying completely still. Seven years. For seven years, every time I had cramps, he would hold me like this. Sometimes he would massage me until I fell asleep, and other times he wouldn’t sleep at all, just staying awake to watch over me. Over these seven years, Marcus had given me a sense of security that I completely relied on. His hands were warm. He massaged me gently for about half an hour before finally stopping. I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling. The streetlights peeked through the curtains, casting a clear silhouette of his face. Looking at him, I actually found myself wondering if he had a secret twin brother. Was it possible that the man on that phone wasn’t him? But I knew better. He was an only child. His mother had a difficult labor with him and could never conceive again. He had told me this more than once, with a hint of sadness in his voice, saying how lonely it was to grow up without siblings. The man sending those texts was him. The man sleeping right next to me, who had just spent thirty minutes massaging my stomach, was the exact same person. And in a place I knew nothing about, he called another woman his wife.

The next morning, Marcus was up by six. He picked up his phone, seamlessly replied to a message on the “Dr. Carter” chat, and then locked it. The entire sequence of movements was so smooth, done without a single second of hesitation. He didn’t even glance my way. He didn’t need to check if I was asleep. He knew that even if I saw him on his phone, I wouldn’t think twice about it. After that, Marcus went to the bathroom, and then to the kitchen. The sound of eggs cracking, the sizzle of the pan, the hum of the toaster, the whirring of the exhaust fan. I lay in bed, smelling the food, but my stomach was tied in tight knots. He walked in carrying a tray, placing the breakfast on my nightstand. He leaned down and patted my shoulder. “Rise and shine. I made your favorite sunny-side-up eggs.” After I got up, Marcus did what he had done for the last seven years. He folded the blankets, made the bed perfectly, fluffed the pillows, and tucked in the corners. I took two bites but had absolutely no appetite. I stood up and started organizing the closet instead. Marcus had to go to the office today. His suit was hanging on the outermost rack. I took it down, casually checking the pockets. Inside the right inner pocket, there was a small paper receipt. I opened it. It was a receipt from a boutique hotel. The date: March 17th. My birthday. That day, he told me he had an urgent meeting with a client and had to cancel our birthday dinner. He had even sent me a video to prove it. In a VIP private dining room, he had held up a glass to the camera, smiling warmly. “Happy birthday, Chloe. I’m so sorry I can’t be with you tonight. I’ll make it up to you as soon as I get back.” I had eaten dinner alone that night, watching that video over and over, telling myself that he couldn’t help it because of work. But now, holding that tiny receipt, my fingers started to tremble. I stood before the closet, clutching the paper in my fist, while the sound of Marcus sipping his coffee echoed behind me. Everything felt so normal. So normal that it felt like a perfectly crafted lie. I hung the suit back up, turned around, and forced my face into a neutral expression. “Hey, I was scrolling through Instagram last night and saw this cute boutique hotel. It looks really nice. Maybe we should go there for a weekend getaway sometime.” He looked up from his mug. “Oh, yeah, that place is super popular. A few guys at the office recommended it. They said the brunch is amazing, but parking is a nightmare.” He paused, then added, “If you like it, we should go. But we’ll have to book well in advance.” I nodded. He put his head back down, focusing on his phone. I stared at the side of his face, a cold chill running down my spine. No hesitation. No stuttering. His eyes didn’t even flicker. He told that lie faster than I could even process it. After Marcus left for work, I looked around the apartment we had so lovingly decorated together. Suddenly, the tears came crashing down. I had learned to numb myself to crying at a very young age. For as long as I could remember, my parents did nothing but scream at each other. Over money, over chores, over any little thing that could trigger a fight. I used to try and pull them apart, but I quickly realized it was pointless. Eventually, I stopped trying. I would lock myself in my bedroom, sitting on the cold floor, listening to the muffled screaming outside. When it finally went quiet, I never knew if they had fallen asleep or just walked away. No one ever opened my door to check on me. No one cared if I was crying, sleeping, or just staring into the dark. I learned early on that screaming your feelings out doesn’t work if no one is listening. It’s better to keep it all inside. Since then, I always dreamed of having my own home. A home with someone who would actually notice me. Marcus had entered my life like a savior. For seven years, he had taken care of me with absolute perfection. Like the time I got severe gastroenteritis and ran a dangerously high fever in the middle of the night. He had called an Uber at 3 AM, stayed up with me at the hospital all night, and never closed his eyes once. He checked my temperature every hour, wiped my sweat, and made a fresh batch of chicken soup before dawn, feeding me spoonful by spoonful. Lying in that hospital bed, looking at his tired face, I had thought: This is it. He’s the one. I’m going to marry this man. So, I started proposing. Once, twice, five times, ten times, twenty-six times. Every time he rejected me, I told myself it just wasn’t the right time. That he had financial worries, that he needed more time—not that he didn’t love me. In seven years, the thought of him cheating had never once crossed my mind. But now, the truth stared me in the face. He had never actually chosen me.

After I finished crying, I went into the study. His old iPad was sitting on the bottom shelf of the bookcase, covered in a thin layer of dust. He rarely used it because he said the screen was too small. Once he got a new one, this one was completely abandoned. I plugged it into the charger, waited for it to power up, and logged into his iCloud. He had given me his password years ago—it was the date of our first anniversary. Once the cloud synced, I opened the photo library. The first photo was from New Year’s Eve. Marcus was wrapping his arms around that woman, standing in a crowded square. Fireworks illuminated their faces. She was laughing, looking back at him, and he was kissing the top of her head. I remembered that New Year’s Eve. Marcus had told me he had to spend it with his parents. At midnight, he had sent me a video of the fireworks outside his parents’ house. His voice had whispered over the clip: “Happy New Year, baby. See you tomorrow.” I thought he was being a good son. I had saved that video. I had even posted it on Instagram. I kept scrolling through the photos. It was filled with pictures of their trips together. Over and over again. Beaches, mountains, cozy cabin getaways, small towns. Every single trip lined up perfectly with the dates he told me he was traveling for business. I closed the gallery. I opened his Snapchat messages. The logs with her started four years ago. Four years ago, we had already been together for three years. Four years ago, I had already proposed to him multiple times. I was trying so hard to convince him back then. I was telling him about the meaning of marriage, about how natural it was for two people who loved each other to take the next step. And back then, Marcus was just starting to text her. At first, it was just casual banter. Then came the dinner dates, then the weekend trips, and then he started calling her “sweetheart” in the chat. I cross-referenced the timelines. Marcus had known her for four years. They had been officially “together” for six months. And those six months were the exact six months I had spent planning our wedding. I sat on the floor, the cold blue light of the tablet screen reflecting on my face. During those six months, I had saved endless venue photos, made budget spreadsheets, drafted guest lists, and compared catering menus from three different hotels. Every time I showed him my plans, he would casually flip through them and say: “Let’s wait a bit. There’s no rush.” Or: “Work is so stressful right now, babe. Give me some breathing room.” I thought he was genuinely stressed. But now, looking at their chat logs, they were choosing wedding venues together. They were picking out wedding dresses and rings together. I sat in the quiet house all day. At 5 PM, the front door clicked open. Marcus walked in, carrying a paper bag from a bakery. “I got that cake you said you wanted to try. I passed by the shop today and remembered.” He kicked off his shoes, set the bag in the kitchen, and came over to sit on the couch. He turned to look at me. “Hey, what’s wrong? You look pale.” I stared at him. Seven years. I thought I knew every line on this face. “Marcus, have you ever genuinely wanted to marry someone?” He froze for a fraction of a second. Then he laughed, completely natural. “Of course I do, Chloe. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have kept you on the hook for seven years.” He used the word kept you on the hook. Like these seven years were just something he was casually wasting, and he was dragging me down with him. I didn’t cry. I thought I would, but my eyes were completely dry. He was still looking at me, a hint of confusion in his eyes. “Why are you asking that all of a sudden? What’s going on in that head of yours?” I shook my head. “Nothing. Just a random thought.” Marcus reached out and patted my hand. “Don’t overthink it, babe. You know I love you the most. Are you hungry? I’ll make dinner.” He stood up and headed into the kitchen. Soon, the clinking of pots and pans started. I sat on the couch, lit up my phone screen, and stared at that photo of them under the New Year’s Eve fireworks. The one where he was kissing the top of her head. He had never kissed me like that. He was gentle with me, he was attentive, and he fulfilled every duty of a boyfriend flawlessly. But that raw, instinctual affection? He had never given it to me. From the kitchen, he started humming. A light, upbeat tune. I recognized the song—it was what he hummed whenever he was in a great mood. I locked my phone and slid it into my pocket. His voice drifted out of the kitchen. “Chloe, do you want something heavy and spicy tonight, or something light and comforting?” I paused. “Light, please.” “You got it.” I leaned back against the couch, staring toward the kitchen. I didn’t know what I was going to do next. But one thing was crystal clear. He said he had kept me on the hook for seven years. Well, it was time for me to get off the hook.

Three days later, our scheduled wedding date arrived. The date we had locked in, only for him to postpone it yet again. That evening, he sat down next to me, let out a heavy sigh, and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. “Chloe, we need to push the wedding back again. The project at work is in its final crunch, and none of my coworkers can make it.” “Just wait a little longer. Once things settle down at work, I promise I’ll give you the perfect home.” “Marriage is just a piece of paper, anyway. You know you’re the only one in my heart.” I leaned against his shoulder, not moving an inch. The last time, his excuse was that his parents needed a medical check-up. Once he finished speaking, I asked softly, “Do you really want to marry me, Marcus? Or… is there something else going on?” He went quiet for two seconds. Then he chuckled, tightening his grip around me, speaking to me like I was a stubborn child. “What else could be going on? I’m just a little terrified of commitment, and work has been insane. Let’s just get through this month.” “Think about it. We’ve lived together for years. How is this any different from being married? Does that piece of paper really matter that much?” I stayed silent. He continued, “Even without that paper, I’ll treat you right for the rest of my life.” “Come on, don’t worry so much. I have a business trip tomorrow. Just for one day. I’ll be back the day after.” I had looked at that girl’s wedding post at least ten times. Their wedding was tomorrow. That night, just like every other time he “traveled for work,” Marcus prepared a whole day’s worth of meals for me, carefully sticking post-it notes on each container. “Chloe, heat this up for lunch tomorrow. Two minutes in the microwave.” “Chloe, heat the soup up before you drink it. Don’t drink it cold.” “Chloe, eat breakfast. Don’t just drink coffee on an empty stomach. Your acid reflux will flare up.” He stacked the containers neatly in the fridge, closed the door, and turned to look at me. “You got all that, Chloe?” Suddenly, my eyes welled with hot tears, and a tear rolled down my cheek. He startled, immediately walking over. He knelt down in front of me, reaching up to wipe my tears. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Are you hurting somewhere?” I shook my head. “No… I just realized we haven’t been apart in a while. I’m going to miss you.” He smiled, pulling me into his chest. “It’s only one day, babe. I’ll be back tomorrow night. There’s nothing to be sad about.” I buried my face in his chest, closing my eyes. His heartbeat was incredibly steady. I wondered, what was he feeling right now? Guilt? Relief? Or absolutely nothing, just running through a routine? Keep things calm on this side today, go to the wedding tomorrow, and come back the day after to keep up the lie. I didn’t know. And I didn’t want to know anymore. The next morning, Marcus kissed my forehead and left. I counted to thirty, sat up, and began packing my bags. Once everything was packed, I drove straight to Marcus’s wedding venue. I found the AV technician in charge of the main projector screen. I handed him a USB flash drive, along with a thick envelope of cash. “Could you do me a favor? Just before the vows, play the video in this folder on the main screen.” He took the drive, glanced at the envelope, and then looked at me with a hesitant expression. “Uh… what kind of video is this?” “Just a surprise vlog from the groom’s side,” I said with a sweet smile. He opened the envelope, counted the bills, and after a few seconds of silence, he gave me a quick nod. “No problem.” “Also, when it plays, please stream the live feed to this link,” I added. Without staying a second longer, I turned and walked out. When I reached the hotel entrance, I hailed a cab and headed straight to the airport. Traffic was heavy. I leaned against the window, watching the blur of trees rush past. I remembered the scene I used to play over and over in my head when I was younger. A long, white veil trailing on the ground. Someone holding my hand. The sunlight hitting us from the side, casting our long, overlapping shadows on the floor. It was a very simple, ordinary picture. So ordinary that I couldn’t even tell if I had seen it in a movie or just conjured it up in my own mind. During the worst years of my parents’ fighting. I would sit on the cold floor of my locked bedroom, waiting for the screaming to end, and just run that scene in my head. Over and over again, changing the details, changing the lighting, but one thing never changed. The person holding my hand was genuine. That was the only thing I wanted back then. I didn’t care about a lavish wedding, a massive guest list, or a huge diamond ring. I just wanted the person standing next to me to mean it. I wanted their “I do” to come straight from the heart. Just that one thing. Twenty-six proposals. I thought I was so close to getting it. And instead, I got a double life. At 10:20 AM, while waiting at the airport gate, my phone buzzed. It was a text from the AV tech: “About to play the USB drive now.”

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