I was just settling into bed, sliding my noise-canceling headphones on to drown out the world with some lo-fi beats, when the music cut out. Instead of the soothing piano, a high, saccharine giggle bled through the speakers. “I told you she was faking that strawberry allergy,” a girl’s voice whispered, thick with a performative shyness. “Did you hear her earlier? She wasn’t exactly holding back.” “I timed you guys, by the way,” a second voice chimed in—a different girl, playful and sharp. “Two hours and twenty-three minutes. Honestly, Mr. Shaw, I’m impressed. You’ve got stamina.” The words hit me like a physical blow. My eyes snapped open, the darkness of the bedroom suddenly feeling claustrophobic. My mind flashed to the kitchen trash can. Earlier this evening, I’d seen a discarded carton of organic strawberries—a premium brand we never buy. When I’d asked Beckett about it, he’d hesitated for a fraction of a second before pulling me into his arms. “One of the guys from the firm dropped it off after drinks,” he’d murmured against my neck. “You know how the junior associates are—always trying to kiss up with ‘thoughtful’ gifts they don’t realize will kill my girlfriend. I told them to take it back, but they insisted. I’ll toss it, babe. Don’t worry about it.” Then he’d kissed me. He’d kissed me until I stopped asking questions, until I felt guilty for even noticing. I’d told myself that the corporate world was just like that—boozy, boundary-crossing, and full of tasteless jokes. I didn’t want to be the “difficult” girlfriend. Now, the lie tasted like ash. The bathroom door creaked open. Beckett stepped out, steam clinging to his skin, a towel low on his hips. I watched him, my heart hammering against my ribs, and forced a jagged, cold smile. “Since you’re keeping a timer to spice things up,” I said, my voice eerily steady, “why don’t you just invite them over to ‘enjoy’ the show in person?” … The call disconnected with a sharp click. Beckett froze, seeing me staring him down. He let the towel slip slightly, a smug, practiced look in his eyes. “You want another round, Gwen?” “Doesn’t your little fan club get jealous?” I gestured toward my headphones, my smile widening into something bitter. “The Bluetooth auto-synced to your phone again. I caught the tail end of the commentary.” The blood drained from his face. He scrambled for his phone on the nightstand, his thumb swiping frantically. The silence in the room became deafening. I answered the question he was too afraid to ask. “I heard everything. I heard how she left the strawberries out on purpose to see if I’d react. And I heard her complimenting your… performance.” Beckett’s jaw tightened. The charming facade was cracking. “Making an intern buy your condoms is cheap, Beckett,” I spat. “At least have the decency to use your own credit card next time.” I turned to leave, but his hand clamped around my wrist. “She’s just an assistant, Gwen. She’s a kid. She has a big mouth and a dark sense of humor.” He was scrambling now, his voice dropping into that soothing tone he used for clients. “It’s not what you think. We had a department dinner, played a round of Truth or Dare, and I lost. I couldn’t exactly back out without looking like a stiff…” The chill in my chest deepened. He wasn’t even trying to give me a good lie. “Whatever. There are a few boxes left in the nightstand. Don’t let them go to waste.” “Gwen!” His grip tightened. “Are you really doing this? You can check my phone. I tell you everything. I give you a play-by-play of my entire day. You really have that little trust in me?” I looked at him—really looked at him. I saw the fine lines creeping around his eyes. We’d been together for seven years. Seven years since I’d quit my stable job back home to follow him to Seattle, to live on instant noodles in a cramped studio just so he could chase this version of himself. I remembered the way he looked when he promised he’d build us a life. We’d spent five years in the trenches together, and we’d finally made it. My friends told me to be careful—that men change when they finally get a taste of power. I thought he was the exception. Looking at this bedroom now, I realized I was just the rule. “I’m tired,” I said, pulling my arm away. “I’m going to sleep.” I went to the closet to grab a spare blanket, but when I pulled the door open, I stopped. All our crisp white linens were gone. In their place was a stack of blankets in a garish, neon lime green. I hate green. I’ve always insisted on white. Beckett has mild red-green color blindness; he never buys anything in those shades. “Spring is coming,” he said from behind me, his voice thin. “I thought the place needed some color. Something… lively.” I didn’t bother responding. I walked into the living room. The minimalist sanctuary I’d spent years curating was gone. There were plush stuffed animals on the sofa. Pink adhesive stars on the walls. Even my hand-woven rug had been replaced by a cheap, trendy cartoon-character mat. No wonder he’d covered my eyes when I walked in from my business trip earlier. He’d claimed it was a “surprise.” He hated clutter. He hated “cute.” My phone buzzed. An unknown number. “Hey, sorry! It’s Lexi, Mr. Shaw’s assistant. That call was just a stupid dare, totally didn’t mean anything. If I offended you, I’m so, so sorry!” A second message followed immediately. “Mr. Shaw and I spent three whole days redecorating the place while you were gone. He said the apartment felt cold and depressing, like a museum. Doesn’t it look so much brighter now? Please take the makeover as my apology gift! I just know you’re going to love it.” Beckett stood in the doorway, watching me read. “Lexi was just trying to help, Gwen. She’s a sweet girl. She apologized. Don’t be petty.” I dug my nails into my palms. My home—the one I’d built with my own hands while he worked eighty-hour weeks—had been gutted. And now, I was being told to be “the bigger person” in the face of a blatant territorial marking. I started grabbing things. The stuffed animals, the stars, the rug. I threw them all into a pile by the door. Beckett watched me, his expression shifting from guilt to a simmering, defensive rage. Finally, he grabbed his keys and slammed the door behind him. I packed my bags. I didn’t know how far they’d gone, but I knew I was done breathing this air. It tasted like rot. At 5:00 AM, Beckett returned. He was carrying a bag of fresh donuts and expensive coffee. “It’s pouring outside, Gwen. Where do you think you’re going?” He tried to take my suitcase, his voice casual, as if the last eight hours hadn’t happened. He set the donuts on the table. Back in the early days, this would have been a luxury. We used to share one cruller, laughing about how we’d eat steak every night once he made partner. Seeing him now, fumbling with the coffee cups, I felt a ghost of that old affection. But it was overshadowed by the realization that I didn’t recognize the man in front of me. “How long?” I asked, leaning against the back of a chair. He nearly choked on his coffee. “I told you, it was a dare! Lexi and I are strictly professional. How much more drama are you going to milk out of this?” “A month ago,” I said, my voice flat. “I found a pair of boxers in the laundry that aren’t yours. Then there were the DoorDash receipts for a pharmacy—ibuprofen and Midol delivered to your office, things you never take. And that air freshener in your car? Since when does a thirty-two-year-old man like the smell of ‘Sugar Sparkle’?” The room went silent. Beckett set his cup down with a deliberate thud. He stood up and stared at me for a long time. “You’re leaving because of… errands?” His voice was thick with disappointment. “The firm is full of Gen Z kids, Gwen. I felt old. I wanted to fit in. Is it a crime to want to feel relevant at my own company?” It was a pathetic excuse. “You need to stop hanging out with your sister,” he continued, his voice gaining strength as he shifted the blame. “She’s miserable in her own marriage, so she wants everyone else to be as paranoid as she is.” That did it. The heat flared up in my throat. “Leave my sister out of this! And have some goddamn dignity, Beckett!” “I am doing this for us!” he roared, finally snapping. “I work myself to the bone so I can provide for you! Do you have any idea how many women throw themselves at me? And I turn them down! Every single one! What more do you want? Do you want to drive me into their arms? Is that the goal?” A year ago, Beckett couldn’t even win an argument with me without blushing. Ever since Lexi joined the firm, he’d learned how to weaponize guilt. “Did Lexi teach you that line, too?” His flinch told me everything. “I am done talking about her! Everyone at the office loves her. She’s bright, she’s capable, and she has a hell of a lot more heart than you do right now!” He didn’t even notice the small, subconscious smirk playing on his lips. It was the same look he used to have when he introduced me to his friends. The front door opened. A shivering, soaking wet Lexi stood in the entryway. “Mr. Shaw… you forgot your jacket in my car.” So, there was a third person with the code to our apartment. My stomach turned. I started to laugh. It was a jagged, hysterical sound. Beckett looked at me, ashamed for a second, but his body moved before his brain could catch up. He rushed to her, draping a towel over her head. “Why did you come out in this? I could have picked it up later.” “I was just scared…” Lexi peeked at me from under the towel, her eyes wide and watery. “I was scared Gwen would misunderstand. I wanted to apologize again.” Beckett gave me a look. Don’t make this harder than it has to be. I didn’t move. Lexi twisted her fingers together. “Gwen, honestly, Beckett and I are just friends…” I looked at the faint, purple mark on her neck she was trying—and failing—to hide with the towel. “Stop. I really don’t care about the logistics of your hookups. Since you brought breakfast, consider it my housewarming gift to the new couple.” I walked out to the sound of her sobbing and his hushed comforts. But the weather was brutal, and it was too early for an Uber to accept the fare. An hour later, Beckett came down to the lobby, supporting a trembling Lexi, who was now wearing one of my sweaters. When he saw me still standing there, he actually chuckled. “I thought you were so ‘done,’ Gwen. Turns out you’re just standing in the rain.” Lexi lunged toward me, grabbing my arm. “Gwen, please! It’s all my fault. Don’t leave because of me, I’ll go, I’ll quit…” I tried to shake her off. She went down like a sack of bricks, collapsing onto the marble floor. “Gwen!” Beckett screamed, rushing to her side. Lexi moaned, shaking her head. “I can’t get up… go to her, Beckett. I’m fine, really…” “I’m taking you to the ER,” Beckett said, lifting her into his arms without a backward glance. Three hours later, my phone rang. I thought maybe he’d realized she’d faked the fall. Maybe he was calling to see if I’d finally caught a ride. “You are unbelievable,” he barked the moment I picked up. “Lexi was trying to be kind, and you pushed her? Do you have any idea how hard she’s crying right now? You’re going to come down here and apologize to her.” “Or what, Beckett?” “Or you can see how far that ‘freelance’ income gets you on your own. You’ve had it too good for too long, Gwen. You’ve forgotten who actually pays for your life.” I hung up. He was the one who had forgotten. He’d forgotten the girl who worked two jobs to pay his bar exam fees. He’d forgotten the girl who believed in him when he was nothing. A week of silence followed. Then, a text from Beckett. “My parents are in town. We’re doing dinner at the Grill. You’re not going to blow them off, are you?” He sent the location. “Everyone knows we’re supposed to get married this year. Please, Gwen. Just stop the theatrics and show up.” I thought about my own parents, how proud they were of my “successful” fiancé. I thought about the messy divorces my friends were going through. I felt trapped. I dressed up. I did my makeup in a way that made me look younger—a desperate, subconscious attempt to compete. When I arrived at the restaurant, I could hear the laughter from the private room. I pushed the door open. Lexi was sitting right between Beckett and his mother, her mouth moving a mile a minute. I froze in the doorway. Lexi scrambled to her feet. “Gwen! I was shadowing Beckett for a client meeting today, and his parents were so sweet, they insisted I join. You don’t mind, do you?” Beckett’s mother smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Gwen is always so sensible. She knows you’re Beckett’s right hand. She wouldn’t dream of being petty.” If I caused a scene now, I was the villain. “Sit,” Beckett said, pulling out a chair. “We were just waiting for you.” The waiter brought a dessert platter. Lexi expertly picked up a chocolate truffle and fed it to Beckett. He’s always hated sweets, but he ate it without a word. Seeing my expression, Lexi chirped, “Oh, don’t mind us! Beckett’s been so stressed with the merger, he keeps skipping meals. I make sure he gets some sugar for energy during the day.” Beckett’s mother nodded approvingly. “A good assistant thinks of everything. Honestly, Beckett, she’s a treasure.” She glanced at me. “Some people are about to join this family and still haven’t learned how to take care of a household. Being an ‘illustrator’ is all well and good, but you can’t eat a drawing. You should take notes from Lexi on how to actually support my son.” She conveniently forgot the five years I spent bankrolling his life with my “drawings.” I looked at Beckett. He stayed silent. Maybe he agreed. Maybe he just wanted to punish me. “It’s fine, Mrs. Shaw,” Lexi said, her voice dripping with fake humility. “I’ll make sure he’s taken care of. You don’t have to worry about a thing.” She leaned in, her eyes sparkling. “You don’t mind, right, Gwen?” “Of course not,” I said, my voice hollow. Lexi beamed. She grabbed a water glass to toast me. “To the happy couple!” Predictably, her hand “slipped.” Half a glass of ice water splashed directly into my face. She jumped up, dabbing at me frantically with a napkin, smearing my mascara across my cheeks. “Oh my god, Gwen! Your skin is so clear without the makeup! We should take a selfie!” Before I could react, her phone was up. The flash blinded me. I knew what the photo looked like: me, disheveled and aging, next to her, glowing and youthful. I swiped the phone out of her hand. Beckett immediately pulled her toward him, scowling at me. He noticed the water had made my blouse transparent. He started to take off his blazer, but Lexi let out a tiny, theatrical sneeze. “I’m so cold,” she whispered. The blazer that was meant for me redirected to her shoulders. “Don’t start,” Beckett warned me. “Lexi has to travel with me for a conference tomorrow. She can’t get sick.” I stared at him. “Beckett, was the point of this dinner to show me how much your parents prefer your mistress?” Beckett’s face turned purple. “Gwen, enough! My parents are right here! Why are you always attacking her? She’s done nothing but try to be your friend!” Lexi started to sob. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have come. I’ll go…” I stood up. “No. You stay. I’m done.” I looked at Beckett’s parents. “The wedding is off.”

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My wife, Madeline, told me I looked like I was drowning. She claimed the stress of the firm was eroding me, so she staged an intervention of sorts: a two-week paid sabbatical. She wanted me to take our daughter and fly across the Atlantic, to find some version of myself that wasn’t tethered to a desk. I was ecstatic. I spent the afternoon packing, humming to myself as I folded sundresses and tech gear, until I reached into the back of our shared closet to find a stray shoebox. Inside, tucked beneath old tax returns, was an envelope that looked too fresh to be a relic. The handwriting on the front was a jagged, familiar scrawl. “Madeline, it’s been seven years. I’m finally divorced. Would you still marry me? If you’re willing to give us another chance, I’ll be waiting at the bridal boutique on 5th and Main. The 19th. Please.” Today was the 19th. It explained why Madeline had skipped breakfast and practically bolted out the door this morning, mumbling something about a last-minute project and an all-day quarterly review. She wasn’t at the office. She was with Damian, the “one who got away”—the ghost of a man she’d spent the last seven years pretending to forget. I gripped the letter so hard the paper bit into my skin. I waited for the pain, for the sharp sting of betrayal to register physically, but there was only a hollow, ringing silence. Fine. If she believed her past was a better destination than her present, I wasn’t going to argue. But I was making a choice too. This trip wouldn’t be a vacation. Zoe and I weren’t coming back. … Dinner was cold by the time Madeline walked through the door. She looked exhausted, collapsing onto the sofa with a theatrical sigh. I played the part. I sat beside her, pulled her head onto my lap, and began kneading the tension out of her shoulders. She closed her eyes, a small, satisfied smile playing on her lips. “Luke,” she murmured, her voice like honey. “I honestly don’t know what I did to deserve you. I’m the luckiest woman alive.” I felt a sharp prick of irony. “You’ve said that a thousand times, Madeline.” “Because it’s true.” I stood up. “Stay there. I’ll go get Zoe for dinner.” As I moved to leave, she caught my hand. I looked down at her. She didn’t speak for a moment, just searched my face with an intensity that felt almost mourning. Then, she pulled me into a fierce, desperate hug. “Luke… two weeks is a long time. I’m going to miss you both so much it’ll ache.” “Then come with us,” I said, testing the water. She pulled back, her gaze flickering. “I can’t. The merger… it’s too much. I have to stay.” “Work is important, Madeline,” I said softly, “but don’t forget to breathe while we’re gone.” “I know. I will.” We sat down, but she barely touched her food. Within ten minutes, she was standing up again, grabbing her coat. “The team is waiting for me. I have to go back in. Finish eating, okay?” I followed her to the door, a plate in my hand, playing the doting husband one last time as I coaxed her to take a few bites of steak before she left. I watched her car pull out of the driveway, the red taillights disappearing into the dusk like fading embers. Later, while Zoe was finishing her homework, I went back to the closet. I found the letter again, reading it until the words blurred. My heart was a lead weight in my chest. I pulled out my phone and dialed her number. “Hey,” she picked up on the third ring. Her voice was breathless. “Where are you?” I asked. “The office. Where else? It’s a madhouse here.” In the background, I heard a wet, soft sound—a muffled laugh, the unmistakable friction of skin on skin. “Shh, not now,” I heard her whisper, though she thought the phone was muffled. “Luke? Look, I’m right in the middle of a deck review. I have to go. It’s going to be a late one, so don’t wait up for me. Kiss Zoe for me. Bye.” The line went dead. I stared at the screen until my knuckles turned white. My intuition wasn’t just whispering anymore; it was screaming. At 1:00 AM, the ghost of a key turned in the lock. Madeline stumbled in, smelling of expensive bourbon and something sharper—a heavy, musky men’s cologne. Her hair was damp at the temples, plastered to her forehead by sweat, and as she reached up to adjust her collar, I saw it. A dark, plum-colored bruise on the side of her neck. She saw me sitting in the dark and flinched, the intoxication momentarily clearing from her eyes. “Luke? Why are you still up?” Usually, she’d fall into my arms the moment she got home. Tonight, she kept a careful three-foot perimeter between us, as if the air around her was contaminated. “Is it hot out?” I asked, my voice devoid of inflection. “You’re soaked.” “I… I had a few drinks with the partners after we finished,” she stammered. “I’m going to jump in the shower.” She started toward the bathroom, but I stepped into her path. A flash of pure panic crossed her face. “Madeline…” “Luke, please, I’m just tired—” “Give me your clothes. I’ll throw them in the wash for you so they’re ready for tomorrow.” “No!” she snapped, then softened her tone. “No, it’s fine. I’ll do it. Just go to sleep. I’ll be out in a minute.” She pushed past me, retreating into the bathroom like a soldier into a bunker. I heard the lock click. Then the deadbolt. The next morning, the atmosphere in the house felt brittle. I found Zoe standing in the hallway, her bottom lip trembling, eyes brimming with unshed tears. “Hey, Peanut,” I knelt beside her. “What’s wrong?” She shook her head, refusing to look at me. It took five minutes of gentle coaxing before she finally cracked. “Dad… remember that bag Mom bought? The one with the designer’s signature on the leather?” I nodded. “The limited edition one. She told me it was your tenth birthday present.” “She took it when she left this morning.” “Where?” “She didn’t say. She just… she just took it.” My stomach turned. I pulled out my phone and called Madeline. “Where is Zoe’s bag?” I didn’t bother with a greeting. “What bag?” her voice sounded distracted, muffled by street noise. “The limited edition one. The birthday gift.” “Oh. That. You both misunderstood. That wasn’t for Zoe.” “You told her it was for her tenth birthday, Madeline. She’s been counting down the days.” “Look, I changed my mind. It was for a client. It’s too expensive for a ten-year-old anyway; I don’t want her growing up with that kind of entitlement. It’ll just make her difficult to manage later. If she wants a bag, take her to the mall and buy her something from the department store.” Her voice was cold, transactional. I hung up without saying another word. I walked Zoe into her room to find the “replacement” gift Madeline had mentioned. There, on her nightstand, sat a small velvet box. Inside was a delicate gold necklace with a tiny heart charm. I stared at it, a cold chill settling in my bones. Zoe had received this necklace two years ago. I had bought it for her eighth birthday. Madeline hadn’t even bothered to buy something new. She had scoured Zoe’s own jewelry box, found something she’d forgotten about, and re-gifted it to her own daughter as a distraction. Zoe started to cry in earnest then. I pulled her into my arms, holding her tight. “Forget the bag, okay? This afternoon, we’re going to the flagship store. You can pick out any bag you want. Anything in the store.” She sniffled, looking up at me with wide, hopeful eyes. I smiled for her, but inside, I was finished. Madeline was a stranger now. Ever since Damian had resurfaced, she hadn’t just checked out of our marriage; she had checked out of her motherhood. She had made her choice. A moment later, I pulled out my phone and sent a text to a contact I’d been ghosting for weeks. “I’m in. I accept the offer.” It wasn’t long before the reply came through. “Mr. Anderson, we are thrilled to have you. The terms remain the same: Head of Global Operations, London office. We’ll have the contracts ready for signing immediately.” I typed back: “I’ll be there in a few days. I’ll need help with a permanent residence. I’m bringing my daughter. We’re settling there for good.” “Consider it done. The firm will purchase the property under a corporate holding and deed it to you as a signing bonus. A fresh start for you and the little one. See you soon.” I spent the afternoon packing the last of our essentials. To keep my promise, I took Zoe to the luxury shopping district. We were walking toward the leather goods boutique when I saw a familiar silhouette through the glass. It was Damian. And he wasn’t alone. “Dad, look!” Zoe whispered, pointing. “That’s my bag!” Beside Damian stood a young girl, roughly Zoe’s age. Slung over her shoulder was the distinct, limited-edition bag Madeline had promised our daughter. “Luke. It’s been a long time.” Damian had noticed us. He turned, a smug, relaxed grin on his face, and began walking toward us, his daughter in tow. “Seven years, isn’t it?” I said, forcing my voice to remain steady. “Close enough. I was abroad for the duration. Just got back a few days ago.” He reached out as if to ruffle Zoe’s hair. “And this must be little Zoe.” Zoe flinched away, letting out a sharp cry. “Ow! You pinched me!” I pulled her behind me, noticing a red mark blooming on her cheek. He hadn’t been trying to be friendly; he was marking territory. He hated me because I had lived the life he wanted for seven years. “Careful, Damian,” I said, my voice dropping an octave. “Oh, she’s just sensitive,” he laughed off. He gestured to his own daughter. “This is my girl, Bella Madeline.” Bella Madeline. The name hit me like a physical blow. He wasn’t even being subtle. He wanted me to know that Madeline’s name—and her heart—belonged to his family tree now. “Funny,” I said, my jaw tight. “My wife’s name is Madeline.” “Is it? Small world.” He smirked. “We should catch up properly sometime. I’m just out with Bella today. A very dear ‘Auntie’ gave her this bag as a homecoming gift, and she insisted on coming out to buy a matching charm for it. She hasn’t taken it off since she got it.” I looked at the bag. “Must have been expensive.” “A few thousand, I hear. I don’t follow the trends, but hey… it’s the thought that counts, right? And she’s got a lot of ‘thought’ for my little girl.” “That’s my bag!” Zoe yelled, her voice cracking with the indignity of it all. “Don’t be a brat,” the girl, Bella, snapped back. She looked Zoe up and down with a sneer that was far too adult for her face. “My Auntie Madeline gave this to me. It’s worth more than your whole life. You couldn’t even afford the strap.” She was a mirror image of Damian’s arrogance. Zoe’s eyes filled with tears. She looked at me, her voice trembling. “Dad, Mom said that was for me. She promised.” “Honey, stop dreaming,” Bella mocked. “You’re not the type for labels. You’re more… Walmart.” Damian didn’t stop her. He stood there, looking at my daughter’s heartbreak with a sense of triumph. He let Bella flaunt the bag, pivoting it in the light so the gold signature caught the sun. “See this?” Bella continued. “One of these costs more than your dad makes in a month. If he sold you, he still couldn’t buy it back.” Damian finally offered a half-hearted cough. “Bella, play nice. She’s younger than you.” Bella rolled her eyes. “I’m not being mean, Dad. I’m being honest. She’s pathetic.” “Dad…” Zoe sobbed, clutching my hand. “Come on,” I said, my voice cold and hard. “We’re going inside.” I led Zoe into the boutique. Damian followed us in, seemingly intent on rubbing salt in the wound. Every time Zoe looked at a bag, Damian would signal a clerk. “We’ll take that one too. Wrap it up.” I watched him, my expression unreadable. He gave me a mock-apologetic shrug. “Sorry, Luke. I spoil her. Once she sets her sights on something, I can’t say no. You know how it is.” “Does a child really need twenty designer bags, Damian?” “Probably not. But she’s got a very generous benefactor paying the tab.” He pulled out his phone and hit a speed-dial. “Hey, babe. Bella and I are at the boutique on 3rd. We’ve picked out a few things. Why don’t you swing by and settle the bill?” Ten minutes later, Madeline came rushing through the door, breathless and glowing. “Just put it on my card,” she told the clerk before she even looked at the group. “Auntie Madeline!” Bella squealed, throwing herself into Madeline’s arms. Madeline picked her up, laughing, kissing her cheek with a warmth she hadn’t shown Zoe in months. “I gave you a bag this morning, you little rascal. Are you already shopping for more?” Bella pointed over Madeline’s shoulder. “I didn’t want to, but she was looking at the ones I wanted. I had to have them.” Madeline turned around, the smile still on her face. Then she saw us. She froze, the color draining from her skin until she looked like a marble statue.

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The morning I checked out, I was just waiting for the routine release of my incidental deposit when the receptionist slammed my room key onto the marble counter. She told me the sheets were stained. My hundred-dollar hold was being confiscated. I immediately tried to explain that I had knocked over a glass of water late last night while working, but she let out a sharp, breathless laugh. Her eyes dragged over me, heavy with absolute disgust. “Water? You think I was born yesterday?” Her lips twisted into a sneer. “I was on the graveyard shift. I saw the revolving door of men going in and out of your room. It didn’t stop all night.” She leaned over the counter, lowering her voice to a venomous hiss. “You look like a decent girl, but behind closed doors, you’re a complete wreck. And you’re going to stand there and lie to my face about water? I know what kind of bodily fluids get left behind when you’re playing house with half the city.” A cold shock of adrenaline hit my bloodstream. My hands started to shake. “Watch your mouth,” I snapped. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Hit a nerve, did I?” “Either you march upstairs and scrub those sheets yourself, or that deposit covers the biohazard fee. Pick one.” I didn’t yell. I swallowed the bile rising in my throat, memorized the name etched on her gold nametag—Krystal—and turned on my heel to wait for the general manager. I took a seat in the lobby lounge, pulling out my phone to distract myself. I opened a local neighborhood app, scrolling mindlessly, until a trending post made the breath vanish from my lungs. The headline was screaming in bold letters: WARNING: Local Hotel Hooker! Brought 5 or 6 guys to her room, ruined the bed, and tried to blame it on spilled water. Acts innocent, actually a total trash bag! Attached to the post was a grainy, secretly snapped photo. I clicked on it, my heart seizing in my chest. The girl in the photo was me. With trembling fingers, I swiped to the next slide—surveillance screenshots of her so-called “johns.” A second later, a bitter, incredulous laugh escaped my lips. They weren’t “men.” They were Doordash drivers, a late-night pharmacy courier, and a guy in a bright neon jacket dropping off an expedited lens rental. 1 The comments beneath the post were a toxic sludge of internet misogyny. “Damn, she’s busy. Five guys couldn’t finish the job? Absolute garbage.” “Always the ones who look like sweet girl-next-door types. Textbook serial hookup.” “Six dudes in one night? Drop the @, I want to see what the hype is about.” A violent tremor wracked my body. My fingernails dug so hard into the leather case of my phone that I thought it might crack. This was blatant, malicious defamation. I whipped my head around to look at the front desk. Krystal was leaning against the back counter, clutching her phone, a smirk plastered across her face. Her thumbs flew across the screen, a soft, self-satisfied giggle slipping out of her every few seconds. I stared at her, completely bewildered. I had never met this woman before today. I had done nothing to her. Why was she trying to destroy me? The anger hit me like a physical blow, a rush of heat straight to my brain. I wanted to storm over, grab her by her cheap polyester lapels, and smash her phone into pieces. But as I began to stand, the sharp sting of my nails biting into my palms anchored me. Breathe, I told myself. Think. If I confronted her right now, she would deny it. Worse, she would flip the script, filming my outrage and spinning it as the hysterical meltdown of a guilty woman. I would be backed into a corner, completely defenseless against the court of public opinion. I took a long, ragged breath, forcing the violent urge down into a cold, hard place in my chest. Moving methodically, I began taking screenshots. I captured the original post, the security footage stills, and dozens of the most vile comments. Then, I typed out a reply under my real name. “I am the person in the photo. The men in the surveillance shots are food delivery drivers and couriers. The stain on the bed is spilled water. The hotel has the full, unedited hallway security footage to prove this. Delete this post immediately, or my next call is to the police.” I hit send. The notification came almost instantly. Krystal hadn’t just replied to me—she had pinned my comment to the top of the thread. “Ooh, the star of the show has arrived! At least put some effort into your lies, honey. Five delivery guys in one night? Do we look stupid? Let me guess, they were delivering emergency condoms because you blew through your stash?” The thread exploded. The digital mob, armed with anonymity, descended in droves. “LMAO ’emergency condoms’, OP is a savage!” “Still trying to lie her way out of it. Embarrassing.” “Stop playing the victim and get out of our city, you filthy skank.” Before I could even process the vitriol, the page refreshed. Krystal had posted a new update. She had linked my personal Instagram handle. “Everyone go take a look! This is her account. Plenty of skimpy little photos on there too!” Within minutes, the floodgates opened. Thousands of strangers swarmed my profile. My notification chime went off like a fire alarm, freezing my phone screen entirely. When it finally caught up, I opened the comments on my most recent post—a completely standard, stylized editorial shoot I’d done for a boutique clothing brand. The comment section had turned into a cesspool. “Dressed like that, no wonder you need six guys a night.” “What’s the hourly rate? If a Doordash guy can hit it, so can I.” “Check your Venmo, baby. Accept my request and let’s talk business.” Something inside me snapped. The quiet restraint I had been holding onto evaporated. I marched across the marble floor and slammed my palm flat onto the front desk. “Delete it. Now.” Krystal barely flinched. “You are committing cyber harassment and defamation,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “I have screenshots of everything. If you don’t take it down this second, I am calling the cops.” She looked at me, gave a theatrical sigh, and rolled her eyes. “Why are you barking at me? Who’s defaming who? I’m posting on my own time. What does that have to do with you?” Without breaking eye contact, she leisurely tapped her screen. “Call them. Go ahead. Let’s see if the police care about a cheap escort’s hurt feelings.” I let out a breathless, incredulous laugh. I was just pulling up the dialpad when a push notification dropped down from the top of my screen. It was an alert from the neighborhood app: Live Stream Started. It was Krystal’s account. She held her phone up, angling the camera to capture both her face and me standing in the background. She smiled, a greasy, conspiratorial grin meant for her viewers. “Hey guys, welcome to the live. There she is, the lot lizard herself, throwing a tantrum in my lobby.” She leaned in close to the mic. “The manager isn’t here yet, so I’m gonna take the master key, go up to her room, and do a little unboxing video for you guys!” She winked at the camera. “Let’s go investigate the crime scene. Let’s see if she left any tools of the trade behind. Tap that heart button and stay tuned!” The viewer count skyrocketed past a thousand in seconds. The chat was a blur of rapid-fire text. “DO IT! Let’s see the nasty room!” “Careful girl, don’t catch anything in there lol!” “Zoom in if you find the wrappers!” My head snapped up. Krystal had already pulled a silver master keycard from the drawer. Holding her phone out like a shield, she practically sprinted toward the elevators, her face flush with the thrill of the chase. 2 She practically ran down the carpeted hallway, stopping in front of my room. The lock clicked green, and she barged in before I could even get my arm across the doorframe to stop her. The room was exactly as I’d left it: a few empty takeout bags on the desk and my heavy, expensive camera equipment neatly packed in the corner. But a second later, Krystal let out a wildly exaggerated gasp. “Oh my God! Guys! Look what I just found!” She let out a shrill, mocking laugh, thrusting her camera directly into the small mesh trash can by the nightstand. I followed the lens, and my entire body went rigid. Lying right on top of the trash was a used, torn condom wrapper and the discarded latex itself. Impossible. I had been up until 3:00 AM editing photos. I hadn’t left the room except to grab my deliveries from the door. There was absolutely zero chance that was in my trash can. A hot, blinding fury spiked in my chest, but just as I opened my mouth to scream at her, I caught a micro-expression on Krystal’s face. I saw her hand, the one not holding the phone, subtly wiping something against the seam of her uniform slacks. A sickening realization washed over me. For the sake of internet clout, this girl had brought her own prop. The anger vanished, replaced by an icy, crystal-clear calm. I crossed my arms and leaned against the doorframe, watching her. “Are you absolutely certain,” I asked, my voice chillingly steady, “that you found that in my room?” She didn’t miss a beat. “What, you’re still playing dumb? The evidence is right here! Unless you think it’s mine?” She pointed the camera closer. “Look at this, guys. Extra-large, ribbed. Our girl likes to play rough! Gotta wonder how much damage she’s taking with a revolving door of guys!” The live chat was moving so fast it was unreadable, a waterfall of crude jokes and visceral hate. “Boom. Caught red-handed.” “Her face right now lmao, she knows it’s over.” “What kind of Doordash comes with that kind of tip??” “Thinking about six dudes using that bed makes me wanna puke.” Krystal looked at the viewer count—it was surging past five thousand. She was practically vibrating with triumph. She shoved the phone screen toward my face. “Lost your voice? You were acting so tough down in the lobby.” She sneered. “The proof is right here. Let’s hear the excuse now. You’re treating everyone on the internet like they’re idiots.” I looked at her smug, victorious face, and the corners of my mouth slowly curled into a smile. It reached my eyes. “Well, since you’re so adamant that this was found in my room…” I tilted my head. “And since I know, for a fact, that I was completely alone in here last night…” I paused, letting the silence stretch just long enough. “I wonder how that got there.” The chat was still roasting me, calling me a pathological liar. “Give her an Oscar!” “The gaslighting is insane. Just admit you’re a pro.” Krystal let out a barking laugh, looking at me like I was pathetic. “You don’t remember? Honey, after five or six guys run through you, I’m sure you just blacked out and forgot!” “Okay.” I nodded slowly. I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed 911. “Hi, 911? I need to report a crime.” I locked eyes with Krystal. Her smile faltered. I pitched my voice up, letting a raw, panicked edge bleed into my tone. “I stayed at a hotel in your jurisdiction last night. I was traveling alone. But this morning, the front desk attendant found a used condom in my room.” “I have no memory of this happening. I was entirely alone!” I let my voice crack. “I believe I was drugged. I believe multiple men assaulted me while I was unconscious!” I hung up the phone and smiled brilliantly at Krystal, whose face had just drained of all color. “The police are on their way. Don’t go anywhere.” I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “After all, you’re the one who found the evidence. You are my star witness.” 3 Panic hit Krystal like a freight train. She lunged forward, her manicured hands clawing for my phone. “No! That’s not what happened! It’s not!” I sidestepped her smoothly, grabbing her by the collar of her uniform and yanking her back into the frame of her own live stream. “Not what?” I demanded, my voice ringing out clearly. “Didn’t you just swear, on camera, that you watched five or six men enter my room last night?” “Didn’t you just discover the physical evidence?” “Are you going to look at the thousands of people watching right now and tell them you made it all up?” Krystal was paralyzed. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish on dry land, her face flushing violently purple. She couldn’t form a single word. The live chat abruptly shifted tone. The mob realized something was horribly wrong. Within ten minutes, heavy footsteps sounded in the hall, and two uniformed police officers stepped into the room. “Who called it in?” the taller one asked, his hand resting near his radio. I let the tears come. It wasn’t hard—the adrenaline and the sheer exhaustion of the morning pushed them right to the surface. I practically threw myself forward, gripping the officer’s sleeve. “Officers, thank God you’re here!” I cried, my voice trembling perfectly. “I ordered dinner last night, ate it, and passed out. I was dead to the world. But this morning, this receptionist came in and said she found that in my room!” I pointed a shaking finger at the trash can, letting massive tears spill down my cheeks. “I’m a young woman traveling alone! I don’t know where that came from! I don’t remember anything! Someone must have slipped something into my food!” I gripped his sleeve tighter, letting out a jagged sob. “And she—” I pointed at Krystal, “—she said she watched multiple men go into my room! She gave explicit details online! She saw them! She’s the key witness to my assault!” The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly. The officers’ expressions hardened into dead-serious professionalism. The lead officer turned slowly, fixing Krystal with a severe, intimidating glare. “You witnessed this?” he barked. “Can you identify the men? Give me physical descriptions. We need to pull the hallway security footage right now.” Krystal shrank back, her knees literally knocking together. “I… I…” She stammered, swallowing hard before screeching in panic. “The cameras are broken! They didn’t catch anything!” I let out a ragged breath, swiping at my eyes, and pointed at the trash can. “If the cameras are broken, we have the physical evidence. The DNA of the men who did this to me is right there. Please, you have to bag it and send it to the lab. Run it through the system. You have to find out who did this!” The word DNA seemed to short-circuit Krystal’s brain. She had brought that wrapper from home. If the police ran forensics on it, her fingerprints—or worse, her husband’s DNA—would be the only things on it. It would prove she fabricated a crime scene. She would be going to jail. “NO!” She shrieked, diving toward the trash can. She snatched the latex and the wrapper in her bare hands and hurled them frantically out the open window. “What the hell are you doing?!” the officer roared. Tampering with a crime scene in front of the police was the dumbest thing she could have done. Both officers lunged. They grabbed her by the arms, twisting her around and pressing her face-first into the wall. “You are destroying evidence in an active felony investigation!” Krystal was pinned, sobbing hysterically, completely unravelling. Just then, a heavy-set man in an ill-fitting suit squeezed through the door, sweating profusely. It was Todd, the hotel manager. “Wait! Wait! Officers, please, this is a massive misunderstanding!” He wiped his forehead, immediately turning his wrath onto Krystal, putting on a show for the cops. “What is wrong with you?! Is this how I trained you? You can’t even handle a simple checkout without bothering the police?!” Having established his dominance, Todd turned back to the officers with a greasy, placating smile. “Officers, look. That… item… it was left behind by the previous guest. Our housekeeping staff just missed it during turnover. It’s a sanitary issue, nothing more.” While he spoke, he shot Krystal a sharp, threatening look. She caught the cue instantly. “Yes! Yes, I was confused! I made a mistake!” Todd rubbed his hands together, bowing slightly toward the officers. “See? Just a simple mix-up. This is an internal management failure, and it has caused this poor woman unnecessary distress.” He turned to me, his smile not quite reaching his cold eyes. “We will absolutely discipline her, and of course, your stay with us is completely comped. Free of charge.” He gestured toward the door. “So, if we’re all settled here, we shouldn’t keep these fine officers from their important work, right?” He was already ushering the cops toward the exit. I looked at his broad, sweating back, my expression hardening into stone. “Hold on.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “440956”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When the family company finally bled out and filed for bankruptcy, the two men I loved most in the world sold me to the highest bidder. My husband and my biological son drugged my tea, dragged my unconscious body into the back of a town car, and delivered me to the sprawling, hyper-modern estate of the city’s most ruthless tech billionaire. “We’re three hundred million in the hole,” my husband’s voice had hissed in the dark, thick with frantic greed, just before the sedatives pulled me under. “Getting on his good side is the only way we survive this.” My son, the boy I had carried and raised, had looked at me not with pity, but with cold, hard resentment. “You’ve been a stay-at-home mom for twenty years. You’ve been living off Dad’s money and my trust fund. It’s time you actually contributed.” He had even leaned in, his words a filthy whisper against my slipping consciousness. “Everyone knows he has a thing for older women. Honestly, a night in a billionaire’s bed? You’re getting the better end of the deal.” What they didn’t know—what they couldn’t possibly fathom—was the tectonic shift of emotion that rocked me to my very core when I was dragged through the gilded doors of this estate. Twenty-three years ago, in a quiet, lonely room, I had given birth to the boy who was now the apex predator of the city’s financial world. And he had spent his entire adult life tearing the world apart, looking for the mother who had vanished into the night. 1 The moment my eyes fluttered open, the harsh bite of a crystal chandelier blinded me. As my vision cleared, the faces of my husband, Richard, and my son, Blake, swam into view. They were looming over me, staring down with eyes so devoid of warmth I could have been a slab of meat on a butcher’s block. “What is this?” My voice was thick, tasting of copper and cotton. “What are you doing to me?” Richard offered a thin, razor-sharp smile. “Diana, don’t act stupid. We told you what the plan was.” He adjusted his tailored cuffs, oblivious to my terror. “You are going to be very, very accommodating to Mr. Gideon tonight. If you keep him happy, our debts vanish.” “And then some,” Blake chimed in, a smug, entitled smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. “If you can manage to keep his attention, Dad and I will practically own this city.” Blake scoffed, rolling his eyes as if my visible horror was a personal inconvenience to him. “Jesus, Mom, stop looking like you’re going to a funeral. Gideon is in his twenties. You’re past forty. Even if you have to sleep with him, it’s not like you’re the victim here.” “Listen to the boy, honey,” Richard crooned, a sickening layer of faux-sweetness coating his words. “Just pretend I hired you an incredibly expensive, incredibly fit escort. Have a little fun.” The pieces slammed together, forming an agonizing picture. They were offering me up. Tossing me onto Gideon’s bed to plug the gaping hole of their financial ruin, hoping to ride his coattails to a new empire. But they were utterly, devastatingly blind to the truth. Gideon didn’t seek out older women because of some twisted fetish. He was searching. Sifting through faces and ages, desperately looking for the mother who had been forced to abandon him—me. I was young when it happened. A brief, reckless romance that resulted in a pregnancy. I had every intention of bringing my baby home, of raising him with everything I had. But my mother—obsessed with lineage and corporate mergers—had threatened to end her own life if I brought “shame” upon the family. She forced me into an arranged marriage with Richard’s family. She forced me to walk away from my baby. Backed into a corner, completely isolated, I had surrendered him to an elite, anonymous trust foundation. Over the years, I watched Gideon from the shadows. I watched him rise, brilliant and terrifying, and I knew he was leaving no stone unturned in his search for me. But the guilt was a heavy, suffocating blanket. I never felt worthy of claiming him. And now, through some sickening twist of fate, the family that had caged me had drugged me and laid me at his feet. When I refused to speak, the silence stretching into something brittle, Richard nudged my ribs with the toe of his leather oxford. “Diana, fix your face. This is the opportunity of a lifetime. Don’t ruin it with your mood swings.” Blake let out a derisive snort. “You know, Dad, she’s never had an ounce of the class Brittany has. Or the looks.” He looked down at me, his eyes dead. “When this is over, you should just divorce her. Let Brittany be my mom. She actually gets it.” The air evacuated my lungs. “What?” I pushed myself up onto my elbows, staring at my son. “Brittany? Your father’s twenty-five-year-old secretary?” The betrayal was a physical blow. Richard had been sleeping with his assistant. And Blake—the boy I had sacrificed everything to protect—knew. He didn’t just know; he preferred her. Before Richard could even bother to formulate a lie, heavy footsteps echoed on the marble floor. Gideon’s executive assistant walked in. He didn’t even look at Richard. He just tipped his chin upward, radiating arrogance. “You the people who called? You brought the merchandise?” “Yes, yes, of course, Gavin. Please, take a look.” Richard grabbed me by the bicep, hauling me up only to shove me violently forward. I collapsed at Gavin’s Italian-leather shoes. Gavin looked down his nose at me, his eyes sweeping over my trembling form with blatant disgust. “Age is right. Fits the boss’s weird criteria. But…” He lifted his foot and pressed the toe of his shoe hard beneath my chin, forcing my head up. “She’s over forty. God knows how much mileage is on her. She’s filthy,” Gavin sneered. “And she’s had a kid. Body’s probably ruined. I’ll never understand what the hell is wrong with the boss’s head, wanting these used-up hags.” My husband—the man I had slept beside for two decades—didn’t flinch at the insult. He bowed his head, his voice dripping with sycophancy. “You’re absolutely right, Gavin. Honestly, at her age, catching the boss’s eye is the greatest blessing she’ll ever receive.” “Exactly,” Blake added, stepping forward eagerly. “My mom’s built tough. She can take a beating. Tell Mr. Gideon to use her however he wants.” My fingers curled into the plush rug. I dug my nails in until I felt the skin of my palms split. Forget Richard. Forget the son who had just gutted me. Let’s talk about Gavin. A man who worked for my son, who lived on my son’s payroll, daring to speak about my son’s desires with such vile disrespect. Gideon would never tolerate an employee like this. I slowly lifted my eyes, locking my gaze onto the assistant’s face. The air in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. “You think I’m ruined?” I asked, my voice deadly quiet. “I wonder how ruined your life is going to be when this night is over.” 2 “What did you just say, you crazy bitch?” Gavin’s face contorted. Before I could blink, his hand swung down, the back of his knuckles connecting with my cheek in a vicious, cracking slap. “You think just because you’re getting shoved into the boss’s bed tonight, you’re suddenly royalty? He’s probably going to take one look at you and vomit!” Gavin spit on the floor next to my hand. “Apologize. Now. Or the deal is dead.” “We apologize! We are so sorry!” Richard shrieked, the color draining from his face. He shot a panicked, wild look at Blake. The two men lunged at me. They grabbed my shoulders, kicking the backs of my knees until I buckled. They shoved their weight against my spine, trying to force my forehead to the floor. “Let go of me!” I thrashed, kicking out blindly. “I won’t beg! I did nothing wrong!” But I was one woman against two grown men. My strength was nothing against their sheer, panicked desperation. They forced me down, grinding my face into the cold, unforgiving marble. The friction tore the skin on my forehead; my knees bruised and bled against the stone. Only when blood began to pool beneath me did Gavin let out a huff of dark amusement. “Alright, that’s enough,” he muttered, adjusting his Rolex. “The boss is going to want some energy left in her.” Richard instantly beamed, panting heavily as he kept his knee pressed into my back. “Whatever you say, Gavin. We follow your lead. And, uh… we know you have the boss’s ear. When it comes to that venture capital injection we talked about…” Gavin soaked in the flattery, his cruel smile returning. “Relax. As long as you two know your place, the funding is fine. Honestly, I see women like your wife every week. They think they can spread their legs and become queens of the castle. But a tired old thing like this? She’s nothing compared to fresh blood.” Gavin clapped his hands sharply. Two towering security guards stepped out of the shadows. “The boss will be down soon. Throw her in the scrub tub. She needs to be sterilized. God knows what diseases she tracked in.” “What tub?” I gasped, trying to turn my head. Gavin ignored me. At his command, the guards dragged a massive, antique steel clawfoot tub into the center of the foyer. They began filling it with freezing water, and then, horrifically, dumping industrial-sized bags of coarse rock salt into it. It wasn’t a bath. It was torture. Gavin gave Richard a pointed look. “Throw her in. The salt will burn off the stench of failure.” “No!” I scrambled backward, my heels slipping on my own blood. My body was covered in open abrasions from the marble. Plunging into freezing, hyper-saline water would be absolute agony. But I didn’t make it three feet. Richard and Blake grabbed me by the arms, lifting me completely off the floor. “Take one for the team, Mom!” Blake hissed. “Do it for the family, Diana. Just endure it,” Richard grunted, his fingers digging into my bruises. They swung me over the edge and dropped me into the freezing depths. The moment the icy, salt-heavy water invaded my open wounds, it felt like liquid fire. A scream ripped from my throat, raw and agonizing. Tears blinded me. I thrashed, trying to grip the slippery steel to pull myself out. But Richard’s hands clamped down on my shoulders, shoving me beneath the surface. Water flooded my nose and throat. I choked, my lungs burning as the salt scoured my airway. “Stop fighting it, Diana! Get clean so he’ll actually want you!” Richard yelled over my splashing. “Stop acting crazy, Mom! Do you want to get us killed?” Blake screamed, grabbing my hair to keep my head submerged just long enough to terrify me, before yanking me up for air. I couldn’t speak. My vocal cords were paralyzed by the stinging water. Just as black spots began to dance at the edge of my vision, Gavin waved a hand, looking entirely bored. “Pull her out. She’s sanitized enough to be looked at. Bring her up to the second-floor restricted wing.” My entire body convulsed with pain as they dragged me onto the rug, leaving wet, red-tinged stains on the fabric. My teeth chattered violently. But beneath the agony, a cold, terrifying clarity settled over me. I gritted my teeth and forced myself to my feet. I suddenly wanted—needed—Gideon to see me exactly like this. Bleeding, shivering, abused. Because I knew my boy. I knew that years ago, a rival CEO had accidentally spilled wine on a photograph of me, and his entire company had been dismantled within a week. I took one step toward the staircase. Before my foot could hit the first tread, a hand shot out, manicured nails digging painfully into my collarbone, shoving me back. “What is this trash?” a shrill, imperious voice echoed through the hall. “Who gave this garbage permission to enter the private wing?” 3 A woman in her late forties stepped onto the landing. She was draped in head-to-toe vintage Chanel, her face pulled tight with expensive, subtle cosmetic work. But beneath the filler and the luxury, an undeniable truth struck me: she looked like me. Before I could process her identity, the arrogant Gavin practically folded himself in half, bowing deeply to the woman. “Monica! I didn’t know you were coming by! I would have sent the helicopter for you.” He turned to Richard and Blake, his voice sharp with warning. “Show some respect. This is the boss’s surrogate mother. She raised him. She is the most important person in his world.” Surrogate mother. I let out a short, hollow laugh. The final puzzle piece snapped into place. Gideon couldn’t find me. The ache of my absence was so profound that he had found a proxy. A woman who shared my features, whom he kept steeped in luxury just to have a shadow of a mother around. When Monica’s eyes landed on my face, the haughty indifference vanished, replaced instantly by a dark, feral rage. “Gavin. What is this?” Gavin wiped a sudden bead of sweat from his forehead. “Monica, please, she’s just the entertainment for the night. You know how he is. He’ll look at her for five seconds and have her thrown out. You are the only mother figure he cares about!” But the flattery didn’t work. Monica stepped closer, her eyes scanning my face with the paranoid intensity of a woman looking at her own replacement. “Did you scrub her?” Monica demanded. “My Gideon is highly allergic to filth.” “We did. Sterilized her exactly as instructed,” Gavin promised quickly. Monica sneered, stepping into my personal space. “Not clean enough. She still reeks of the gutter.” Without warning, her hand darted out. She twisted her fingers into the wet, tangled mass of my hair. “This hair is offensive,” she spat. “It needs to go.” Richard and Blake were desperate to win the favor of the “most important person” in Gideon’s life. The moment they heard her complaint, they threw themselves at me, tackling me back to the floor. “If it offends you, ma’am, it’s gone!” Richard yelled, pinning my arms. “We’ll shave her bald right now!” “Shave her?” Monica laughed, a high, cruel sound. “Where is the fun in that? Weeds need to be pulled out by the roots.” She wrapped the strands of my hair tightly around her fist, planted her designer heel on my shoulder for leverage, and yanked. A sickening rip echoed in the hall as a clump of my hair was torn directly from my scalp. “Ah!” A primal scream tore from my throat. Blinded by the searing pain, survival instinct took over. I wrenched my upper body free and shoved Monica as hard as I could. Monica, entirely unprepared for a “broken” woman to fight back, stumbled backward, her manicured hands flailing before she hit the floor. Her face twisted into a mask of pure, unadulterated hatred. “You stupid bitch!” she shrieked, scrambling up and raising her hand to strike my face. “You dare touch me? I am a god in this house!” I tried to dodge, but Richard and Blake slammed their weight onto my wrists, pinning them to the floor. As Monica’s hand came down, I lunged forward with my neck and clamped my teeth down hard onto the fleshy part of her palm. I bit down until I tasted copper, until warm blood flooded my mouth. Monica screamed, a horrifying, piercing sound. She wrenched her hand free, staring at the deep, bleeding puncture wounds. Breathing heavily, she aimed a vicious kick directly at my ribs, sending me sliding across the wet floor. “Where the hell did you find this feral animal?!” Monica screamed at Gavin. “Do you want to lose your job, Gavin?!” Terrified of her wrath, Gavin turned on me. He marched over and kicked me squarely in the stomach. The wind left me in a violent rush. “You crazy bitch,” Gavin roared. “Do you have any idea who you just bit? I’m going to bring a pair of pliers and rip your teeth out one by one so you can never bite anyone again!” I coughed, spitting a mixture of salt water and Monica’s blood onto the marble. I looked up at Gavin, my chest heaving. “Pull my teeth? You?” I rasped, a dark smile touching my lips. “Are you sure you want to do that? When Gideon finds out, he will end your life.” “How dare you speak his name!” Monica shrieked, kicking me in the chest. “I won’t just pull your teeth. I’m going to cut your tongue out. Let’s see how much you run your mouth then!” 4 At the mention of cutting out my tongue, Gavin hesitated. “Monica, please. The boss has said a hundred times he hates blood on the floors. Maybe we just…” “Are you questioning me?!” Monica glared at him, her chest heaving. “Gideon worships me! He would burn this entire estate to the ground if I asked him to!” Seeing Monica’s lethal intent, I tried to drag myself backward toward the door. But my own family was my warden. Richard and Blake seized me again, digging their fingers into my bruises. “Monica, she assaulted you first! Punish her however you want!” Richard begged. “Kill her if you want, just please, put in a good word for our investment!” Blake pleaded, holding my shoulders down. Monica’s lips curled into a sinister smile. “Investment? As long as I am entertained, the money is yours.” A security guard returned, holding a pair of heavy, gleaming garden shears. The metallic glint sent a cold spike of adrenaline straight through my heart. Just as Monica grabbed my jaw, her fingers digging into my cheeks to force my mouth open, Gavin’s phone chimed loudly. He checked it and gasped. “Monica, stop! The boss just texted!” Gavin’s voice pitched upward in panic. “He said he’s meeting someone incredibly important tonight. He said under absolutely no circumstances is there to be a mess. Please, we have to stop.” A flash of genuine fear crossed Monica’s eyes. As arrogant as she played, she knew the limits of the monster she lived with. Slowly, resentfully, she dropped the shears. But her fury hadn’t burned out. Instead of cutting me, she straddled me, raising both hands, and delivered a barrage of vicious, open-handed slaps. Left, right, left, right. The room spun. The metallic taste of my own blood filled my mouth. One final, brutal backhand connected with my jaw, and I felt a tooth loosen and give way. I spat the tooth onto the floor, my breathing ragged. “You are going to regret this. Every single second of this.” “Regret?” Monica panted, standing over me, adjusting her bloody blazer. “The only one who’s going to regret anything is you. You will regret the day you were born.” She grabbed me by the collar. “You wanted to see the private floor so badly? Fine. I’ll take you.” Monica twisted her hand into the hair that was left on my head and dragged me toward the stairs. My knees slammed against the wooden steps, pulling agonizing trails behind me. When we reached the top of the landing, she threw me onto the floor. I gasped for air, trying to orient myself. When I finally looked up, all the rage and pain evaporated, replaced by a profound, paralyzing shock. The entire second floor wasn’t a modern bachelor pad. It was a perfect, pristine replica of the nursery I had decorated twenty-three years ago. The exact vintage wallpaper. A worn, knitted cardigan—my cardigan—draped carefully over a rocking chair. A stack of classic children’s books arranged perfectly on a low table. It was as if time had stopped. As if I had never left. Richard, who had followed us up, stared at the books in confusion. “Mr. Gideon has a kid? I never read that in the trades…” Gavin kicked Richard in the back of the knee. “Keep your mouth shut! You want to end up in a ditch?” While they were distracted, my trembling hand reached out. I let my bloodstained fingers brush the cover of Goodnight Moon. I used to read this to him, feeling his tiny heartbeat against my chest. Every word was burned into my soul. Before I could open it, Monica’s stiletto heel slammed down onto the back of my head, crushing my face into the floorboards. “You piece of trash!” she screamed. “Don’t you dare touch his things! If you stain that book, a hundred of your pathetic lives wouldn’t be enough to pay for it!” I let out a wet, rattling cough. Every bone in my body ached, but the fire in my chest was absolute. “When he gets here,” I whispered, blood bubbling on my lips, “you’ll see exactly whose life isn’t enough to pay for this.” “You dare say his name again?!” Monica was unhinged now. She lifted her stiletto, aiming the deadly steel spike directly for my temple. A strike there would kill me instantly. But before the heel could drop, a heavy, deadening silence fell over the hallway. Then, footsteps. Slow. Measured. Terrifying. “What… are you doing?” The voice was cold enough to freeze the blood in my veins. It was Gideon. He stood at the top of the stairs, dressed in a sharp black suit, his face a mask of supreme, aristocratic boredom and irritation. Monica reacted instantly. The feral monster vanished, replaced by a simpering, distressed victim. She abandoned me and rushed to him, wrapping her bloody hands around his bicep. “Oh, Gideon, thank God you’re home. The agency sent over this horrific, violent woman tonight. She attacked me. She was trying to kill me, look at my hand!” Richard practically threw himself forward, bowing so low his nose almost touched his knees. “Mr. Gideon! I am so, so sorry. She is completely out of line. But don’t worry, sir, we’ve already disciplined her for you!” Gideon didn’t look at them. His dark eyes slowly tracked past the bowing men, past the hysterical woman clutching his arm, and landed on me. In a fraction of a second, the mask of the untouchable billionaire shattered into a million pieces. The icy detachment in his eyes fractured. His pupils blew wide. The color drained from his face, and a violent tremor seized his shoulders. His eyes rapidly filled with tears, rimming with red. I pushed myself up onto one elbow, ignoring the blood dripping from my chin. I offered him a soft, broken smile. “Long time no see… my beautiful boy.”

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The free bread at the back of the campus cafeteria had become my primary food group. On my phone screen, a photo from my parents’ Instagram feed stung worse than the hunger in my gut. It was a platter of oysters and Alaskan king crab, glistening under the warm lights of a high-end bistro. They always claimed they were sending me three thousand dollars a month for “living expenses,” but the balance on my debit card had never crested a hundred. When the registrar’s office sent me a final notice for my tuition, I finally found the courage to call home. “I already transferred that money!” My mother’s voice was a jagged blade, slicing through the receiver. “You probably blew it all on some mindless trend, and now you have the nerve to ask for more?” My knuckles were white as I gripped the phone, my voice trembling. “Mom, I swear, I haven’t spent a dime on anything but food. The money just… it never hit the account.” “Bullshit! I have the transfer confirmation right here on my phone!” she shrieked. “Not only are you a spendthrift, but you’re a liar too. It’s time you learned a lesson.” That afternoon, I received a text notification from the bank. My account had been frozen. … I was just pouring the lukewarm cafeteria bread over a bowl of plain white rice when I saw the update. Another “family” dinner. The table was a graveyard of expensive shells. My mother was smiling, carefully de-shelling a lobster claw and placing it onto my cousin’s plate. My father had his arm around him, flashing a peace sign for the camera. That single meal cost more than my entire year’s grocery budget. The caption read: Dinner with the kid. He’s growing into such a thoughtful young man. We couldn’t be prouder! If you didn’t know any better, you’d think they were a perfect nuclear family of three. I stared at the rice. The bread had cooled, and the grains were hard and clumpy, but I didn’t care. I tilted the bowl and forced it down. My stomach, shriveled from days of neglect, cramped instantly. I doubled over, gasping, and my hand slipped. The bowl shattered on the floor, the remnants of my sad meal splattering across the linoleum. By the time the cramps subsided, the cafeteria staff had already started the midday cleaning. The food was gone. I thought about my empty bank account and felt a surge of desperation. I closed my eyes, reached down, and gathered the relatively clean clumps of rice from the table with my bare hands, swallowing them dry. “Noah? What are you doing?” I froze. It was my roommate. My face went hot, a deep, burning crimson. I couldn’t blame him for being shocked. On move-in day, my parents had pulled up in a top-trim Range Rover. My mother was draped in designer silk, a Rolex Submariner gleaming on her wrist. Everyone on floor four assumed I was a trust-fund kid. Nobody would believe that my monthly allowance was barely enough to cover a pack of gum. By the end of the month, I was a ghost haunting the free-bread station. Before I could manufacture a lie, my phone vibrated. It was my mother. I hit ‘accept,’ and her voice came through, uncharacteristically bright. “Noah, honey, I just put this month’s three thousand into your account. Let me know if you need anything else, okay?” I didn’t say anything. I opened my banking app. Balance: $30.58. Still two digits. It was always two digits. I thought of the lobster. I thought of the way she looked at my cousin. I took a breath, trying to keep the bile down. “Mom? Can I be honest with you?” She chuckled, sounding like she was in a great mood. “Of course. When has your mother ever lied to you?” “Could you… could you maybe send a little extra? Or send it differently? It’s just… it’s been really tight this month.” Silence. It stretched so long I could hear my own pulse drumming in my ears. I dug my nails into my palm, already regretting the words. Then, the snap. “Is three thousand not enough for you? What are you doing, Noah? Are you out there running with a bad crowd? Drugs? Gambing?” “Mom, no—I’m telling you, I only see thirty dollars in the account. Every month. I’m living on free soup. I can’t keep doing this.” My voice broke. “I don’t even need much. Just five hundred. Just Venmo it to me directly. Don’t go through the bank.” The sound of a glass shattering echoed through the phone. Then came the explosion. “Noah! How dare you lie to my face? I transfer that money like clockwork every month! You’re ungrateful, you’re greedy, and you’re a liar! I sent you to school to get an education, not to live like a king. If this is who you’ve become, you don’t belong at that university!” The line went dead. I stood there, paralyzed. My roommate was staring at me, his expression a mix of pity and confusion. I didn’t say a word. I just looked down, finished the last of the rice, and walked out. It was a sick joke. My roommates lived on eight hundred a month and ate like royalty. I was supposedly “getting” three thousand, yet I was survives on thirty. I’d been living this lie for two years, surviving on grueling side gigs and sheer willpower. The next morning, the hunger finally won. A sharp, white-hot pain bloomed in my stomach, coiling me into a ball on my mattress. I forced myself up. I had a shift at the dining hall—the only perk was a free breakfast. Three breakfast burritos. That was my fuel for the next twenty-four hours. I swallowed an old antacid and hurried to work. But the pain wouldn’t quit. Halfway through the breakfast rush, the world turned grey and tilted on its axis. I woke up in the infirmary. The nurse had placed a warm compress on my stomach, but my first instinct wasn’t relief. It was panic. I grabbed my phone and checked the app. Balance: $30.58. I couldn’t even afford the co-pay. With no other choice, I called home again. “Mom, please. I’m in the campus clinic. I passed out. I need money for the medical bill…” “If you’re broke, stay healthy!” she screamed before I could even finish. “I gave you three thousand yesterday! One day, Noah! It’s been one day and you’ve blown it all? You’re a disgrace!” I hadn’t realized I’d bumped the speakerphone button. Her voice rang through the quiet infirmary like a siren. My skin burned with shame. I saw the nurse look away, pretending to be busy with a chart. Something inside me finally snapped. “Enough! You keep saying three thousand! But look at my statement! It’s thirty dollars! Thirty! Do you have any idea what these two years have been like? I’m delivering food until 3 AM on a rented bike. I’ve worked through fevers because I couldn’t afford a bottle of Tylenol. You put the money in and then you take it back—who are you doing this for? Who are you trying to impress?” There was a pause. Then her voice sharpened into a lethal point. “Are you accusing us? We work ourselves to the bone to provide for you, and you turn around and blame us for your own incompetence? If the money is gone, you lost it. You deserve to struggle.” My father’s voice drifted in the background. “Noah, son, don’t worry. I’ll send more later…” “Send what?” my mother cut him off. “He’s a boy. Why does he need so much cash? He’ll just get into trouble. Our reputation can’t handle a delinquent son. We survived on pennies when we were in college. He’s just spoiled. A spoiled brat.” I stared at the ceiling, trying to keep the tears from spilling. I failed. In the end, I had to beg my supervisor at the dining hall for an advance to pay the clinic. By the time I left, the delivery app on my phone chimed. My second job was starting. I took a deep breath and ran to the electric bike rental station. It was five dollars an hour. I usually booked two hours and rode like a madman to hit the bonuses. The orders were slow today, but one popped up—a long haul, way outside the campus bubble. A thirty-minute ride for an eight-dollar payout. I took it. At a red light, a matte-black sports car pulled up beside me. The engine purred with the kind of expensive precision that made my teeth ache. I glanced over. The guy in the driver’s seat looked familiar. It was Tyler, my cousin. He was on a hands-free call, grinning, a heavy gold watch catching the afternoon sun. “Thanks, Aunt Diane! Yeah, I just picked it up. The handling is incredible. It’s like driving a cloud.” He glanced my way, his eyes skimming over my sweat-soaked delivery vest and the beat-up thermal bag on my back. His gaze paused for a microsecond. Then he looked right through me. Like I was part of the scenery. The light turned green, and he roared away. I sat there, my hands frozen on the handlebars. Tyler was my father’s nephew. He wasn’t even related to my mother, yet she’d bought him a supercar. And I, her own son, had just woken up in a clinic because I couldn’t afford a sandwich. The irony tasted like copper in my mouth. I reached the delivery address a minute late. The customer was a pregnant woman who snatched the bag and began complaining before I could even apologize. “What took so long? If my baby gets stressed because I’m hungry, that’s on you!” “I’m sorry, the traffic—” “Save it. You’re getting a one-star.” The door slammed. My phone buzzed. Delivery completed. Payout: $4.00. The app had docked half for the delay. I stared at the screen for a long time. Then I got back on the bike. On the ride back to campus, it started to drizzle. My vision blurred, a mix of rain and salt. I didn’t cry, though. I just twisted the throttle, letting the cold wind fill my lungs until the ache in my chest felt like it belonged to someone else. At 9:00 PM, I crawled back to the dorm. After showering, I counted my earnings. After the clinic debt, I had $42.58. Total net worth. At least I wasn’t in the red. My phone buzzed again. A private message from my advisor. Noah, your tuition is significantly past due. Is everything okay? Tuition? My stomach dropped. My mother had “paid” it before the semester started. I’d watched her click through the portal. Had she canceled the payment? Or was it another lie? I spent the weekend on a bus back to my hometown. I needed answers. When I reached the front door of our suburban estate, my thumb wouldn’t work on the biometric lock. They’d changed the settings. I was about to ring the bell when the door opened. It was Tyler. He saw me and let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Hey, little cousin. Why didn’t you call? It’s family dinner night. We didn’t really set a place for you.” “Noah? You have the nerve to show up here?” My mother’s voice barked from the foyer. Tyler turned back to her, his voice dripping with fake concern. “Aunt Diane, I know Noah’s been irresponsible with money, but he’s still family. I’ve heard about college kids getting into deep water—gambling debts, shady loans. He’s probably just in over his head.” The bait was set. My mother took it instantly. “I cannot believe I raised such a failure!” she screamed, lunging toward me. “Getting into debt, hanging out in the gutter, and then crawling back here for a handout? Get out!” She raised her hand to strike me. Even knowing she didn’t love me, the fact that she believed a cousin’s gossip over her own son felt like a physical weight in my chest. “I’m not here for a handout,” I said, my voice cold. “I’m here to ask why my tuition hasn’t been paid.” She froze. Then, the vitriol returned. “Don’t you dare play that game! On top of the three thousand a month, I’ve sent you money for clothes, holiday bonuses—nearly ten thousand dollars this year alone! You gambled it away, didn’t you? And now you’re trying to steal your own tuition?” I clutched my bag, staring her down. “You say you sent the money. Where is it?” “My account shows thirty dollars every month. I’m at the top of the ‘failure to pay’ list at the registrar. Is that your idea of providing?” I pulled up the email from the school and held it in her face. “You say you gave me the money? Prove it. Let’s look at the ledger. Right now.” My mother opened her mouth to snap back, but my father, who had been quiet on the sofa, suddenly stood up. His face was a mask of stern authority. “Noah, that’s enough. Is this the thanks we get? You come into this house and scream at your mother? Where is your respect?” I looked at him, my eyes burning. “Respect? She’s lying to my face, Dad! She says she’s sending thousands, but I’m starving!” “Lying?” My mother slammed her hand on the side table. “You want proof? Fine. Let’s look at the receipts, you ungrateful brat. Let’s see exactly how much of a liar you are.” She pulled out her phone and pulled up her banking app. She shoved the screen an inch from my nose. I stared. I didn’t want to miss a single digit. My heart stopped. The records were there. Every single one. The first of every month: Transfer to Noah – $3,000. Status: Success. But… that was impossible. “I don’t understand…” I whispered. The transfers were real. The system showed the money leaving her account and entering mine. Every ‘birthday gift,’ every ‘clothing allowance’—it was all there, marked as completed transactions. But my balance had never changed. It was as if the money hit my account and then simply evaporated into thin air. Before I could wrap my head around the glitch, my mother’s voice turned low and dangerous. “Get on your knees.” Before I could react, she kicked the back of my calf. The pain sent me stumbling down. Then, a sharp, stinging slap across my face. I was kneeling on the porch of our million-dollar home in full view of the neighbors. “I have tried everything to raise you right,” she shouted, her voice booming so the whole street could hear. “But you are a liar and a thief. You spent your tuition on god-knows-what, and then you came here to gasprint your own mother? Everyone, look! This is what an ungrateful son looks like!” She grabbed a decorative broom from the foyer and began striking my back. A small crowd of neighbors began to gather. “Isn’t that Diane’s son? What happened?” “Spent all his tuition money, apparently. Then tried to extort her for more.” “What a shame. Diane works so hard. Some kids are just born rotten.” The crowd murmured their approval of my “discipline.” My mother’s chin lifted. She loved an audience. She loved being the righteous martyr. She hit me harder. My father stepped out, his voice a faux-whisper of sympathy. “Noah, just apologize. It breaks my heart to see you like this. Just admit you spent the money and say you’re sorry.” I looked at him. Truly looked at him. And in that moment, a jagged piece of memory slotted into place. I started to laugh. It was a cold, jagged sound that stopped my mother’s hand mid-swing. “I know,” I said, my voice echoing in the sudden silence. “I know exactly where the money went.”

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Late at night, my husband Ethan once again snuck into the bedroom of his deceased brother’s wife. Shameful moans spilled through the crack in the door. My heart twisted as if a knife was being driven through it. I once thought I’d married into happiness. Three years ago, I was kidnapped and nearly violated by a dozen men. It was Ethan who risked his life to save me. In that moment, I was moved to tears, and I chose to marry him. It wasn’t until two days ago that I learned the truth. The kidnapping was orchestrated by him. The knife wound he received while saving me was all calculated. Marrying me, doting on me, getting me pregnant. It was all to protect his beloved Lydia. It was all because his forbidden love with Lydia wasn’t supported by the family. Our three years of love was nothing but a lie. If that’s how it is, don’t blame me for what comes next. Sophia’s POV I am San Diego’s most well-behaved socialite, a recognized model lady in high society circles. I was so obedient growing up that I’d never even held a man’s hand. But my family insisted I marry the most infamous bad boy, Ethan. Rumors said he could go through three different women in a week, racing cars and yachts every night, living a life of complete debauchery. This man was definitely not husband material. So I made the only rebellious decision of my twenty-three-year life. The night before our engagement, I ran away. But fate played a cruel joke on me. I fled the arranged marriage, only to be kidnapped halfway by my family’s enemies. Just as my clothes were being torn off and I was about to be violated by a dozen men, the warehouse door was smashed open from outside. Ethan drove a black sports car straight in. He got out and fought over a dozen burly men. Eventually he drove them all away, but he was also severely injured. A blade pierced his left chest. He collapsed in a pool of blood, struggling to crawl to my side and untie the ropes binding me. I tore off the hem of my shirt and pressed it trembling against the wound on his chest. “Why did you come to save me?” “Because you’re my fiancée.” He coughed up blood, his devastatingly handsome face pale from blood loss. “Even though… you didn’t seem too willing.” My tears surged out, falling one by one. “I’m sorry. If I hadn’t tried to run away from the marriage, you wouldn’t have been dragged into this and injured…” Ethan reached out and wiped away my tears with his thumb. “Don’t cry.” He said, “It was my fault before, too many scandals, too bad a reputation… and you’re so good, so pure. No wonder you wanted to run.” “But don’t be afraid… from now on, they won’t force you anymore, won’t pressure you into this marriage… you’re free now, you can go anywhere, marry whoever you want…” In that moment, my heart was like a lake struck by a massive stone, rippling with countless waves. My heart was moved. “I won’t run anymore.” I held him tightly, tears rolling uncontrollably. “Ethan, I won’t run anymore. As long as you’re okay, I’m willing to marry you!” Fortunately, the ambulance arrived in time. The doctor said he was lucky: the blade missed his heart by two centimeters. He was saved. After he recovered and was discharged, I followed my heart and married him. After marriage, Ethan reined in his wild ways. No more women around him. He spoiled me endlessly. He was so good to me. So good that if I scraped my skin even a little, he’d hold it tenderly and blow on it for ages. So good that to avoid making me angry, he replaced all his secretaries and drivers with men. So good that he’d always come home by ten o’clock at night, earning teasing from his friends about being “henpecked.” And Ethan would always respond happily, with pride and affection, “My Sophia is a treasure that countless men would beg for and never get. That she’s willing to marry me is my blessing.” Every time I heard him say this to others, I felt that marrying him was the most correct decision I’d ever made. Until this prenatal checkup, seven weeks into my pregnancy. Ethan had an important client he couldn’t reschedule. I went to the checkup alone, and seeing it was still early, I stopped by his company wanting to wait for him to get off work so we could go home together. Learning he was meeting a client in the conference room, I didn’t have the secretary notify him. I went into his office and found a magazine to read in the private rest room. Ever since getting pregnant, I’d become especially drowsy. Without realizing it, I fell asleep on the single bed in the rest room. I woke to the sound of loud conversation from the office. “Tsk, aren’t you the gold standard for good husbands in our circle now? Your wife had such an important prenatal checkup today, yet you dared make up an excuse to hang out with us here? Aren’t you afraid she’ll make you sleep in the study when she finds out?” A burst of knowing laughter followed. It was Ethan and his group of friends chatting. I smiled slightly. Knowing this group made boundless jokes in private, I didn’t mind. I got up, about to open the rest room door and go out, when I heard Ethan laugh shortly, his voice carrying a cold mockery I’d never heard before. “A good husband?” Ethan scoffed. “Marrying Sophia, getting her pregnant with this child. None of it was ever my choice. I was forced into all of it.” My hand froze on the doorknob, my fingertips trembling imperceptibly. What did he mean by that? What did he mean, he was forced? Another friend said incredulously, “What are you talking about? Who in San Diego could force you?” “Who else?” One friend who knew the inside story said, “His grandfather! Have you all forgotten that punishment three years ago that left him bedridden for half a month?” The others exchanged glances, their expressions changing. “All these years, I acted like a jerk: racing cars, changing girlfriends, constant scandals. I thought if I did that, Grandfather wouldn’t think I still had feelings for Lydia.” Ethan laughed at himself bitterly, then his tone grew heavy. “But three years ago, he still caught me and Lydia together.” Lydia… Lydia Hayes? How could it be her? My breath caught. I could barely stand. Lydia Hayes, his deceased brother’s wife. He was actually with his own brother’s wife? A massive sense of absurdity crashed over me. I suddenly felt my stomach churning with nausea. “When grandfather saw me with Lydia, he thought we were disgraceful. He said she was disgusting, that I’d betrayed my brother. But Lydia and I were together first. It was my brother who tore us apart.” In the office, Ethan’s words continued. “But Grandfather wouldn’t listen to explanations. He was furious and severely punished Lydia. I got beaten too, but that wasn’t the worst of it.” He paused, then his tone turned ice cold. “The problem was, Grandfather used Lydia to threaten me. He said if I didn’t marry Sophia, Lydia’s days in the Quinn family would only get worse.” “So you married Sophia for Lydia’s sake?” Someone said with a sigh. “We all thought you’d long since moved on from her and fallen for Sophia. Otherwise, why would you have stepped up three years ago to save her, nearly dying from your injuries?” The friend who knew the inside story laughed knowingly. “You don’t know the whole story. The kidnapping Sophia went through three years ago, he orchestrated the entire thing.” “No way! That kidnapping was your setup?” Ethan was silent for a moment, his voice low. “Yes.” Hearing that affirmative word, my fingers dug sharply into my palm, nails piercing flesh, but I didn’t care.

Sophia’s POV Ethan continued slowly, “You all know how stubborn my grandfather is. He valued Sophia’s family background, appreciated how well-behaved she was. He said she was pure and innocent, the perfect choice for my wife.” He paused, flicking cigarette ash, that red glow flickering at his fingertips. “But she didn’t want to marry a notorious bad boy like me, and Grandfather was pressuring me hard. I had no other options.” “So you arranged that whole scene?” Someone asked. “Yeah.” Ethan admitted it readily. “I knew she was going to run from the marriage, so I contacted her family’s enemies and set up that situation. The knife was angled to miss by two centimeters, the ambulance was already waiting outside. Everything was calculated.” He laughed shortly, the sound devoid of warmth. “I didn’t expect her to actually cry like that when I collapsed, holding me and saying she’d marry me.” Everyone exchanged glances, momentarily speechless. “Brilliant!” Someone was the first to react. “That plan not only satisfied your grandfather but made Sophia completely devoted to you. Two birds with one stone!” Ethan crushed out his cigarette, his voice heavy. “This stays between us. She’s carrying my child now. If word gets to her…” “Don’t worry, which of us would tell?” “Exactly. This secret dies with us.” “But,” someone hesitated, “Do you really have no feelings for Sophia at all now? She’s carrying your child…” Ethan didn’t answer immediately. After a long pause, he finally spoke, his tone as calm as if discussing something unrelated to himself. “Lydia lives every day walking on eggshells. I promised to protect her, that I wouldn’t fall for another woman.” Inside the rest room, I felt completely frozen, like I’d been cast into hell. I covered my mouth tightly with one hand to keep from making a sound, the other clenched into a fist, knuckles white. So that was it. He conspired with the Hayes family’s enemies to kidnap me, nearly having me violated, then appeared at the crucial moment to stage that dramatic rescue. All his tenderness, consideration, and doting on me, including his supposed reformation, was fake. Those moments that moved my heart, those times I thought were sweet and happy, were all just an elaborate act he performed. And the purpose was to protect the woman he truly loved from being mistreated. He never loved me from the beginning, yet I was foolish enough to be deceived for three years, only discovering today just how many lies he’d woven for me. Countless emotions surged like a tide, nearly drowning me. When I came back to my senses, the office outside had gone quiet. Ethan and his friends had left. I wiped away my tears forcefully, took a deep breath, and pushed down all the anger, resentment, and the dull, knife-like pain in my chest before pulling open the rest room door. Outside was completely empty. I left Quinn Corporation and hailed a car to a law firm. “Hello, I want a divorce.” I found a divorce attorney and said directly, “Please draft a divorce agreement for me.” I was going to divorce Ethan. I would no longer be his tool to protect another woman. Just then, my phone rang. It was a call from Ethan.

Sophia’s POV Looking at the caller ID “My Love” on the screen, I zoned out for a moment. If Ethan knew I’d discovered everything and was even considering divorce, he would definitely try every means to stop me. So before successfully divorcing, I absolutely couldn’t let him notice anything. In the last second before the call would automatically disconnect, I slid to answer. “Sophia?” Ethan’s voice came through the receiver, carrying his usual warm concern. “Did you finish the checkup? How did it go?” If this were yesterday, I would have felt sweet about this thoughtful concern. But now, I only felt my stomach churning with nausea. I tried to keep my voice steady and normal. “Yes, it’s done. The doctor said the baby is very healthy. Don’t worry.” “That’s good.” Ethan’s tone relaxed a bit. “By the way, I have to make a sudden business trip to the next city. Important project. I’ll be gone two or three days. Take care of yourself and the baby. Have the kitchen make whatever you want to eat. I’ll bring you a gift when I get back.” “Okay.” I only replied with one word, afraid saying more would betray my emotions. After hanging up, I stood in the law firm’s air-conditioned hallway, feeling my blood run completely cold. I raised my other hand and gently touched my still-flat belly. Just yesterday, I’d been filled with joy about this child’s arrival, imagining who the baby would look like. But now… With such a calculating father whose heart belonged elsewhere, if this child were born, it would surely have an unhappy life. After getting the divorce agreement from the lawyer, the next day as I went downstairs in a distracted state, my foot slipped and I fell. When I woke up, my lower abdomen throbbed with pain. The doctor told me the baby was gone. I returned weakly to the villa and lay in bed to rest. My phone vibrated. I picked it up to see Lydia had just posted on Ins. There were six photos. A selfie of Lydia with a gentle smile, an elaborately decorated birthday cake, brilliant fireworks in the night sky, two plates of exquisite Western cuisine, and two wine glasses clinking together. The last one was a close-up of two hands with fingers interlaced. On the man’s wrist was a Patek Philippe starry sky watch I knew all too well. The caption read, “This year’s birthday, still with my favorite person by my side.” Location tagged: Grand Hyatt Hotel in the neighboring city. My whole body went ice cold, chilled to the bone. So Ethan’s so-called business trip was to celebrate Lydia’s birthday, enjoying their undisturbed time together. With trembling fingers, I clicked into Lydia’s Ins and scrolled up through her posts. Three years ago in autumn, Lydia posted a photo of maple leaves with the caption, “Maple leaves are red again. Remember that year you said you’d take me to see all the red leaves in the world.” Two years ago on Valentine’s Day, Lydia posted a starry sky image. “Even if we can’t always be together, our hearts in one place is enough.” One year ago, on mine and Ethan’s wedding anniversary, Lydia posted, “Some people, some things, are destined to remain only in the heart. But being able to silently protect is already fortunate.” Looking through these, I suddenly realized Lydia had posted quite a bit of ambiguous content over the past three years. It’s just that before, I’d genuinely treated Lydia as family and never connected that content with Ethan. Now, suddenly awakened to the truth, I felt like a complete fool. I had been thoroughly deceived for three years. I thought I had love and happiness, not knowing that my sweet happiness was just a joke to others. I closed my eyes. Tears slid silently from the corners of my eyes.

Sophia’s POV Two days later, Ethan returned. But it was the Quinn family estate’s butler who told me. The butler spoke urgently, with rare panic. “Please come to the estate quickly. Something’s happened to him!” I frowned. “What happened?” “You’ll know when you get here. The old master is furious. No one can calm him down.” I was confused but still rushed to the Quinn estate. The whole way, I’d imagined various possibilities, but I never expected to see this scene. Lydia’s long hair was disheveled, tears on her face, her whole body trembling. And Ethan was tightly shielding her in his arms. His entire back had numerous vicious bloody marks, skin split open, blood soaking through his white shirt. “You disgusting creature! How dare you do such a shameful thing!” Grandfather stood to the side leaning on his cane, chest heaving violently. “Did you think that just because you weren’t in San Diego, I wouldn’t know what you two have been doing these past few days?” Lydia shook her head crying. “It’s not like that, Grandfather…” “If Grandfather must punish someone,” Ethan said hoarsely, “Then punish me. This is all my fault. It has nothing to do with Lydia.” “You bastard! How can you face your deceased brother? How can you face Sophia? How can you face the child in her belly!” “Lydia and I truly loved each other from the start!” Ethan suddenly raised his voice, eyes reddening. “As for Sophia and the child in her belly, you forced me into that, grandfather.” The words fell, and the room went deathly silent. Grandfather trembled with rage, nearly fainting from anger. “I thought after three years of marriage to Sophia, you’d have some feelings for her. I never imagined you were still so bewitched by this woman that you’ve lost all reason!” Just then, the butler hurried in from outside. “She’s here…” Ethan’s body stiffened. He slowly turned his head. At the doorway, I stood quietly. Our eyes met. Ethan’s eyes flashed with momentary panic and guilt. His lips moved as if wanting to say something, but ultimately he just looked away and said nothing. Grandfather saw me too. His expression changed slightly as he urgently signaled to the butler. “Quick, take her to the front hall to rest!” The butler stepped forward respectfully. “This way, please.” I pressed my lips together and had no choice but to follow the butler away. Behind me came Grandfather’s voice, suppressing fury with his command. “Continue! Beat them severely!” The sound of the rod striking flesh resumed. From the corner of my eye, I glimpsed that every strike the servant swung at Lydia landed heavily on Ethan’s back instead. He gritted his teeth, not making a sound, protecting Lydia in his arms completely. And Lydia remained completely unharmed. Late that night, a private doctor came to the villa to treat Ethan’s wounds. After nearly two hours of cleaning, medicating, and bandaging, the doctor finally left. Ethan lay on his stomach on the bed, looking toward me. After a moment of silence, he spoke. “Today at the estate… what did you hear?” I raised my eyes to meet his. “What should I have heard?” I asked back. Ethan studied me. “Nothing. She angered Grandfather. He wanted to punish her, but she’s too delicate to withstand it. With my brother gone, I have to protect her for him.” He reached out to hold my hand, his thumb gently rubbing the back of my hand, his habitual intimate gesture. “Sophia, don’t let it bother you.” I looked at his hand holding mine. Long fingers, well-defined and strong. Once, this hand had wiped my tears, stroked my hair, countless times gently held me, embraced me. Now, I only felt disgusted. “I know.” I calmly pulled my hand away. “I understand.” I took out a document from the nightstand drawer and placed it in front of him. “By the way, sign this for me.” “What is it?” He asked casually. “I saw a necklace I really like. It’s quite expensive. I want you to buy it for me.” I was gambling. Gambling that having just been punished for Lydia’s sake and having lied to me, he wouldn’t carefully read the document’s contents at a time like this. Sure enough, Ethan barely hesitated before taking the document and pen. He signed his name smoothly on the signature line of the last page I’d turned to. “What else do you want?” He handed the document back to me with an indulgent smile. “I’ll buy it all for you.” “That’s not necessary.” I smiled. “This one thing is enough.”

Sophia’s POV The next day, I delivered the signed divorce agreement to my lawyer, asking them to process it as quickly as possible, then returned to the villa. Stepping into the entrance, the housekeeper who was wiping a vase saw me. Her expression was somewhat strange, hesitant to speak. “What is it?” I asked while changing shoes. “Ma’am.” The housekeeper gestured toward upstairs. “Someone’s here. Upstairs.” My movements paused briefly, then returned to normal. “I see.” I went straight upstairs. The closer I got to the master bedroom, the clearer the sobbing from inside became. “…It’s all my fault. If not for me, you wouldn’t have been hurt so badly…” Lydia was draped over Ethan, crying with a face full of tears. Ethan turned his face slightly, seemingly about to raise his hand to wipe her tears, but his gaze inadvertently caught sight of me at the door. His movement froze instantly. “Sophia?” Ethan called out, with a trace of barely perceptible tension. Lydia startled like she’d been frightened, hurriedly moving away from him and straightening up, turning to look toward the door. Her face was pale, eyes red and swollen, looking pitiful. “Sophia, you… you’re back…” Lydia’s fingers twisted at her clothes anxiously. “Ethan was hurt because of me. I felt so guilty, I just wanted to come see him… We… we didn’t do anything else…” “She was just emotionally overwhelmed for a moment. Nothing more.” Ethan picked up the conversation. “Don’t misunderstand.” One with red-rimmed eyes looking pitiful, one with a soothing tone and evasive gaze. I suddenly wanted to laugh. Their panic wasn’t about me misunderstanding, was it? They were just afraid I’d tell Grandfather, afraid this marriage would fall apart, afraid Lydia’s days in the Quinn family would become even worse. “I understand.” I nodded. “I get it.” Lydia bit her lower lip, those wet eyes looking at me with careful pleading. “Sophia, Ethan was hurt because of me. I feel terrible about it. I want to stay and take care of him for a few days, even if it’s just bringing him water.” Before I could respond, Ethan spoke first from the bed. “Grandfather is furious right now. Her days at the estate aren’t easy. Let her stay here temporarily for a few days. When Grandfather calms down, she can go back.” He seemed to be asking, but his tone brooked no refusal. I smiled. “As long as you two think it’s fine, I have no objections.” “I knew it! Sophia, you’re so magnanimous and understanding!” Lydia beamed with joy and just like that, moved into our villa. That night. In the dead of night, my phone suddenly vibrated with a message notification. Ethan picked up his phone to look, then glanced sideways at me. After confirming I was asleep, he slowly got up and left the room. In the darkness, I opened my eyes, got up as well, and walked to the guest room door. Light leaked through the door crack, casting the shadows of two intertwined figures. “Does it still hurt?” Lydia’s voice was full of heartache. “Seeing those wounds, my heart is breaking…” Ethan cupped her face and lowered his head, kissing her wet eyes. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.” His voice carried a tenderness I’d never heard before. “Don’t worry. I can move around now. I’ll be fine soon.” Lydia tilted her face up, tears streaming. “Don’t protect me like that next time. Seeing you hurt makes me suffer a thousand, ten thousand times more than if I were hurt myself…” Ethan’s thumb caressed her cheek. “Silly girl. I told you I’d protect you. No matter how badly I’m hurt, it’s my willing choice.” Lydia’s eyes grew hazy. Suddenly she stood on tiptoe and kissed his lips. Ethan seemed ignited. The next second, he bent down and swept Lydia up in his arms. Walking to the bed in a few steps, he laid her down and pressed himself on top of her, kissing her lips as his hands began to roam restlessly. “Mmm… Ethan…” Lydia’s breathing was unsteady. “Isn’t this bad, doing this here? What if we wake Sophia?” Ethan’s kisses traveled down her neck, his voice muffled but certain. “She won’t wake up. She sleeps deeply since getting pregnant. Not even thunder would wake her.” I stood outside the door, watching that nauseating entanglement. They were actually so desperate they couldn’t control themselves, having an affair right under my nose. This was the good man I once believed in. My good husband. This was the woman I’d sincerely treated as family, whom I’d pitied as a young widow.

Sophia’s POV Just before dawn, the master bedroom door was gently pushed open. Ethan returned to the bedside silently like a ghost. He softly called my name once. After confirming I was still asleep, he lifted the covers and lay down. I had my back to him. In the faint light of dawn seeping through the curtains, I opened my eyes. In the days that followed, a bizarre calm settled over the villa. Lydia, under the pretense of caring for the injured, had practically become half the lady of the house. In the mornings, she’d wear silk robes while making coffee for Ethan, her fingertips “accidentally” brushing his hand. In the afternoon garden, she’d stand on tiptoe to straighten Ethan’s collar, her lips nearly touching his chin. Every time, I carefully took note but continued pretending not to know, as if I’d seen nothing. “Next week is Grandfather’s seventy-fifth birthday.” That evening at dinner, Ethan cut his steak and said casually, “We’re celebrating at the estate this year. We’ll need to stay overnight.” Lydia’s knife and fork paused in mid-air. “Got it.” I scooped up a spoonful of soup and agreed. On the birthday, the Quinn estate was filled with guests. Nearly every prominent figure in the city attended. Ethan held my hand, playing the loving couple in front of others. Lydia wore an elegant moonlight-white dress, sitting quietly in a corner. Occasionally when her gaze met Ethan’s, tender affection that only they understood flowed between them. When the banquet ended and guests dispersed, it was already evening. I’d been standing in high heels all day. My calves ached terribly. I was about to go upstairs to rest when a young maid hurried over carrying a fruit plate. The maid’s face was pale as she pleaded, “I suddenly have terrible stomach pain… This fruit plate is supposed to go to your grandfather. Could you… help me deliver it?” Thinking it was just a small favor, I nodded and took it. “Give it to me.” “Thank you!” The maid looked relieved, clutching her stomach as she hurried away. Grandfather’s bedroom was at the end of the hallway. The door was ajar, light spilling from inside. I approached, about to raise my hand to knock. A dull thud of something heavy hitting the floor suddenly came from inside. My heart jumped. Without thinking further, I pushed the door open with my elbow. The scene before me made my blood freeze instantly. Grandfather lay face-up on the carpet beside the bed, while Lydia gripped a down pillow with both hands, pressing it firmly over his nose and mouth. Her profile in the lamplight appeared twisted and vicious, her eyes full of malice. Completely different from her usual weak and pitiful appearance. “Grandpa!” The fruit plate slipped from my hands. I gasped in disbelief and lunged forward, shoving Lydia away. “Lydia! What are you doing?!” Caught off guard, Lydia was pushed to the floor. She screamed, hurriedly dropping the pillow, her face drained of all color, trembling violently. I was about to reach out to check Grandfather’s breathing when Ethan and other Quinn family members burst in after hearing the commotion. Ethan saw Grandfather collapsed on the floor. His pupils constricted sharply. “What happened?!” “Grandfather! Grandfather, what’s wrong?” Other Quinn family members crowded in, crying out in shock at the scene. “Quick! Call an ambulance! Now!” After Ethan shouted, he rushed over like a gust of wind, crouched down, carefully lifted Grandfather, and urgently pressed his fingers to the carotid artery. Chaos erupted. The ambulance arrived quickly. Grandfather was lifted onto a stretcher and sent to the hospital, straight into the emergency room. The situation was critical, life and death uncertain. In the Quinn estate’s main hall, the atmosphere was unbearably heavy. The main Quinn family members gathered there, everyone’s faces somber. Ethan returned from the hospital to the estate. When he entered the hall, his expression was even darker than when he’d left. “What exactly happened?” His voice was low, carrying the feeling of an approaching storm, each word like ice. “Grandpa was perfectly fine. How did he suddenly suffocate and fall unconscious? Who did this?” Everyone’s eyes focused on Lydia and me: some suspicious, some scrutinizing, some furious. When they all heard the commotion and rushed to the room, there were only two people inside besides Grandfather: Lydia and me. Only we knew what had happened. I opened my mouth, about to speak. “It was… it was Sophia!”

Sophia’s POV I looked at Lydia in shock as she suddenly cried out. Lydia’s face was deathly pale. She raised a trembling hand, pointing at me, tears streaming down. “It was Sophia! I saw it with my own eyes… saw her holding the pillow, covering Grandfather’s nose and mouth! I tried to stop her, but it was too late…” “You’re lying!” All the blood in my body rushed to my head. “It was you! I saw you with my own eyes holding the pillow over Grandfather’s face!” I turned to Ethan, explaining urgently. “Ethan, you have to believe me! I went to bring Grandfather fruit. When I pushed the door open, I saw Lydia using the pillow to smother him! She’s the one trying to kill Grandfather! That pillow must have Lydia’s fingerprints on it. We just need to test it!” “That won’t be necessary.” Ethan abruptly cut me off, his voice so low it was alarming. His gaze fell on my face, his eyes full of cold scrutiny, as if looking at a stranger. “Lydia would never do such a thing.” He said each word deliberately. “I believe her.” “You believe her?” I couldn’t believe it. My whole body trembled. “You won’t even investigate before believing her?” Ethan’s face was iron-gray, his eyes flashing with terrifying coldness. “Lydia’s been married into the Quinn family for so many years. We’ve all seen what kind of person she is. She’s usually so gentle she wouldn’t even step on an ant. How could she possibly dare harm Grandfather?” “Then what about me? Grandfather has always treated me well. What reason would I have to harm him?” “Yes, I’d very much like to ask you.” Ethan’s handsome face was as cold as frost. “Grandfather has always treated you well. Why were you so ruthless as to attack him?” My whole body shook. I was utterly shocked. I’d expected him to protect Lydia, but I never imagined he’d be so blind to the truth. “Ethan.” An older Quinn family member spoke gravely. “Your grandfather’s life still hangs in the balance. This matter must be severely punished.” “Yes, he must be given justice!” “We absolutely cannot let the culprit go free!” The Quinn family members chimed in, looking at me with disgust and fury. Ethan was silent for a moment, then finally raised his hand. “Someone come.” Two bodyguards entered at his command. “Take her to the police station.” Ethan’s voice was ice cold. “On charges of attempted murder.” “Ethan!” Cold seeped through me from the inside out. “You can’t do this to me. I’m carrying your child!” This was my only bargaining chip now. Though only I knew the child was already gone. But at this moment, this was the only way I could think of to delay and wait for the truth to come out. “Even if you really don’t believe me.” My voice choked, carrying a last shred of hope. “At least wait until Grandfather wakes up and hear what he has to say…” “Take her away.” Ethan didn’t look at me, only uttering two words to the bodyguards. The bodyguards stepped forward, gripping my arms from both sides. “Ethan!” I struggled, my voice shrill. “Please, at least wait until Grandfather wakes up…” “If Grandfather can wake up.” Ethan finally looked at me, his eyes colder than I’d ever seen. “Perhaps I’ll consider hearing your explanation. But now, you should pay for what you’ve done.” “You can’t do this, Ethan! I’m your wife. I’m carrying your child!” No matter how I struggled, argued, or pleaded, I couldn’t soften Ethan’s heart. The bodyguards forcibly dragged me away. The following days were the darkest period of my life. I was locked in a detention center. The female inmates looked at me like I was prey. At first, it was just verbal abuse, then it escalated to shoving, and then… “I heard she’s a vicious woman who tried to kill her own grandfather?” “Looks so innocent on the outside, but has such a black heart!” “Someone paid big money for us to teach her a lesson!” Fists, slaps, fingernails digging into flesh. All aimed at me. The most painful was late at night, when they’d press me down on the filthy bathroom floor and pour cold water over my head again and again. The cold water soaked through my thin prison uniform. The bone-chilling cold made my teeth chatter, but it couldn’t compare to one ten-thousandth of the cold in my heart. I’d fantasized countless times that Ethan would appear, investigate the truth, and take me out. But one day, two days, three days… hope gradually extinguished. On the afternoon of the seventh day, a guard opened the cell door. “Sophia Wright, someone’s posting bail for you.” I struggled to get up from the floor. My whole body was covered in injuries, my left eye so swollen I could barely open it, dried blood still at the corner of my mouth. I stumbled out of the detention center. The harsh sunlight made me dizzy. A black sedan was parked in front. Ethan leaned against the car, a cigarette between his fingers. Seeing me in this state, his expression didn’t waver. He just looked up slightly. “Get in.” I stood still, my voice so hoarse it didn’t sound like my own. “Has Grandfather… woken up?” Ethan’s smoking motion paused. Through the cigarette smoke, his face was somewhat blurred. “The doctor said his brain was severely deprived of oxygen. He’s become a vegetable. The chances of him waking up are minimal.” My heart sank to rock bottom.

Sophia’s POV “However.” Ethan threw the cigarette butt on the ground and crushed it with his shoe. “Considering you’re still carrying Quinn family blood in your belly, the family has decided to temporarily not pursue criminal charges against you.” He opened the car door. “But from now on, you’re no longer my wife, no longer part of the Quinn family. Once the child is born, I’ll divorce you.” I looked at him and laughed. Laughed until tears came out. “Ethan.” I said softly. “You’re going to regret this. One day, you’ll know how ridiculous today’s choice was.” Ethan frowned, as if wanting to say something, but ultimately just turned aside. “Get in. Don’t make me say it a third time.” I wanted to refuse, but the words stuck in my throat. I knew resistance was meaningless. Besides, all my documents were still at the villa. I had to go back to get them before I could leave. Half an hour later, the car pulled into the familiar villa courtyard. But after stepping into the villa, the scene before me made me stop in my tracks. Several servants were moving things out of the master bedroom. My clothes, jewelry, cosmetics, even my cherished books and photo albums: all carelessly stuffed into cardboard boxes, piled in the hallway like trash. “Hurry up.” Lydia commanded imperiously. “Throw anything useless into the storage room.” She looked up and saw me, a victorious smile curving her lips. “You’re back?” Coming before me, she looked me up and down in my disheveled state, saying smugly, “Starting today, this villa has a new mistress. Naturally, the master bedroom is no longer yours either.” She raised her hand, pointing to a narrow door at the end of the hallway. “From now on, you’ll live there.” I found this utterly absurd and laughable. I looked at Ethan mockingly. “Your grandfather is still lying unconscious in the hospital, and instead of investigating the truth, you let this woman move into our bedroom? Can you face him after doing this?” “Grandfather became like this because of you. That’s the truth.” Ethan’s face was terrifyingly dark. “If not for the child in your belly, you’d still be in jail right now instead of standing here questioning me.” He raised his chin toward a nearby servant. “Take her to the storage room. From today on, she lives there until the child is born.” Two servants stepped forward, gripping my arms from both sides. The storage room was worse than I’d imagined. Less than a hundred square feet, filled with old junk, the smell of mold mixed with the pungent odor of cleaning agents, nauseating. The servants carelessly threw my belongings on the floor. “Starting tomorrow, you’ll be responsible for cleaning the entire villa every day.” Lydia stood in the doorway, her smile sweet but vicious. “Because the Quinn family doesn’t support freeloaders.” She paused slightly, as if remembering something. “Oh, and don’t think about running away or contacting anyone, because it would be futile. Your phone has been confiscated. I’ve also instructed everyone that no one in this villa dares lend you a phone. Before the child in your belly is born, someone will watch you every moment of every day.” With those words, the door slammed shut heavily. I dug my fingertips deep into my palm, trying hard to calm my emotions, then turned to rummage through the pile of belongings for a long time, finally finding all my identification documents. I gripped those documents tightly. I had to endure for now, endure until I found a chance to escape. In the days that followed, before dawn each day, I was dragged from the storage room by servants to begin the day’s labor. Scrubbing floors, cleaning toilets, washing mountains of dishes, tending to wildly overgrown weeds in the garden… any slacking off resulted in kicks from the servants watching me. My three meals were the cold leftovers everyone else didn’t finish. As for Ethan and Lydia… If before, with Grandfather keeping them in check, they still exercised some restraint and only dared to sneak around… Now with Grandfather down, they had completely thrown caution to the wind. The living room sofa, the study desk, the dining table, even the garden swing… everywhere bore traces of their lovemaking. Several times late at night, tossing and turning on the narrow bed in the storage room, I could hear moans and panting from the other side of the wall, obscene and unbearable. The gentle consideration that once moved my heart. How laughable it all seemed now. This afternoon at noon, the sun blazed overhead. I was ordered to clean the pool. I crouched by the pool’s edge, scrubbing the walls bit by bit with a brush. At the other end of the pool, water splashed everywhere. Lydia wore a sexy bikini, her whole body clinging to Ethan, laughing coquettishly. The servant watching me was a middle-aged woman, currently leaning back in a lounge chair dozing off, obviously drowsy from the stifling afternoon heat. My scrubbing motion paused slightly. I raised my eyes, quickly scanning the surroundings. Ethan and Lydia were immersed in their own world, not paying attention to me. The villa gate was at the end of the garden, about fifty meters away. My heart pounded violently in my chest. I gently set down the brush, pretending to reach for the hose in the corner, but used the cover of the bushes to inch bit by bit toward the gate. Five meters, ten meters, twenty meters… Behind me came Lydia’s coquettish complaint. “Ethan, my shoulders are so sore. Massage them for me…” Ethan chuckled lowly. “Where? Here?” Panting sounds resumed. I held my breath and finally reached the gate. I looked back once. The servant was still dozing. Those two were still entwined in the water. Now. This was the best chance to escape. I gripped the documents in my pocket tightly. Then without looking back, I slipped out silently.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “394877”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

The intimate photos of me and Liam Hunter suddenly went viral throughout the entire company. Each photo was even labeled with a price tag: just ten dollars for a night with me. Only Liam had access to these photos. I had just reached his office door when I heard him laughing on the phone inside. “Nora White is just a pawn I’m using to piss off the Hunters. Once I’m done with her, I’ll throw her away.” “Vivian is the one carrying my child. She’s the one I’m going to marry.” I broke up with him on the spot, but all I got in return was a resounding slap across my face. He even released our sex tape. In just one day, I became the laughingstock of the entire company. The “woman who sold her body.” The moment my heart died, I opened the reply email from Liam’s rival law firm. “I accept your offer. On one condition: help me deal with that bastard Liam Hunter.” The phone rang almost instantly. That man’s low chuckle came through, his voice magnetic and dangerous. “Baby, you’re finally willing to leave that scumbag? Now, can I pursue you?”

Nora White POV I was a lawyer who had been recruited directly by Kingsley Law Firm. I had no background, no connections, just a score that ranked first in the state bar exam and top performance for two consecutive years since joining. Because I was poor, because I came from a small town, I didn’t fit in with the people around me. Behind my back, my colleagues called me a tool. Strong professional abilities, but not one of them. Then one afternoon, someone anonymously posted a document to the firm’s internal work group chat and tagged everyone. The title read: “The Secret to Miss White’s Rise to the Top: Every Step Has a Price Tag.” The document was meticulously crafted, with neat formatting and a combination of images and text. It listed chronologically everything I had received since dating Liam. The limited edition handbag he gave me on our first date: eighty-six thousand dollars. The presidential suite he booked the first night we spent together: twenty-three thousand dollars per night. The monthly living expenses he transferred to my account: fifty thousand dollars. Every single item had a screenshot, a price tag, accurate to two decimal places. And at the bottom was a set of photos. These were photos Liam said he wanted to take that belonged only to the two of us after we got together. I had hesitated for a long time before agreeing. Now these photos had been cropped and spliced together, arranged at the end of the document with a line of text below: “Full version available. DM for access. Two hundred dollars per set.” The moment the document was posted, it exploded throughout the entire firm. In less than ten minutes, even the chat groups in neighboring departments were circulating it. I stared at the screen, my ears filled with nothing but ringing. I had returned all of these things. I had the receptionist send back the handbag the very next day, and I returned every single transfer. He knew I wouldn’t accept them. So later he changed his approach, buying things and placing them directly on my desk or at my apartment door, making it impossible for me to return them. But the document only showed screenshots of what I received. Not a single record of what I returned. The voices of several female colleagues leaked through the half-open door of the break room. “So that’s how she became number one in performance.” “Mr. Hunter personally led her through projects, funneling all the resources her way. Who wouldn’t be number one?” “Did you see those last few photos? Tsk, I really didn’t expect that. Usually she walks around with that cold face like everyone owes her money, but behind closed doors she’s quite open.” “Come on, that’s called investment. Didn’t you see how high the return rate was?” The laughter wasn’t deliberately suppressed. Iit even carried a kind of intentional casualness. I stood outside the door holding my water cup, the surface of the water trembling slightly. I didn’t go in. When I turned to leave, my cheeks burned fiercely, but my steps didn’t falter. Those photos, transfer records, hotel bookings, no one except Liam himself could have obtained them. I walked straight toward Liam’s office. Before I could push the door open, my hand froze on the handle. The door wasn’t fully closed, and voices from inside leaked through the gap. It was Liam on the phone with someone, on speakerphone. “The document spread! Everyone at Kingsley has seen it. Nora White is completely finished now. The partner nomination is definitely over.” “But that’s not even the worst part. She still doesn’t know that you only pursued her to use her as a stepping stone. You never really looked at her, never even touched her. If she found out, she’d probably collapse on the spot.” “But then again, the Hunters and the Whitlocks are bitter enemies. If you want to be with Miss Whitlock, you’ll definitely have to go through some trouble.” The person on the other end of the phone spoke in a frivolous tone with laughter in their voice. “Didn’t you promise Nora you’d take her to meet your parents next week? Are you really planning to keep up the act?” Liam’s voice came through the door, unhurried. “Of course it’s an act. The Hunters won’t let me marry Vivian, so I’ll bring home a woman who doesn’t meet their standards and see where that leaves them.” “Once they give in and approve Vivian, this pawn will have served her purpose.” I stood outside the door, completely still. My blood seemed to freeze all at once. The cold spread from my fingertips to my limbs, then lodged in my chest, making even breathing painful. So from beginning to end, I was just a pawn. Him holding an umbrella for me in the rain was fake. Him showing up on time at my office every day when I worked late was fake. When everyone else ignored me, the fact that he was the only one to sit beside me, that was fake too. All of it was fake. I released the door handle and took a step back. I don’t know how I made it back to my workstation. The way people around me looked at me had completely changed, from two years of disdain to naked contempt. Some even couldn’t hold back a laugh in my direction. I didn’t look at anyone. I sat down and opened my computer, clicking into my email. At the top of my inbox was an email from two weeks ago, from a top-tier law firm in London. They had seen my case report at an international arbitration conference and reached out with an invitation. The annual salary was five times what I currently made, with a full relocation allowance included. I had looked at this email many times but never replied. Because I couldn’t bear to leave. I couldn’t bear to leave Liam. I stared at that email on the screen for a long time. The office lights were blindingly white, and people were still whispering in the hallway. I moved my cursor to the reply button. My finger hovered for three seconds. Then I clicked.

Nora White POV I then picked up my phone and sent a message to my direct supervisor, Simon Yale. “Simon, I’ve decided to resign. I’ll leave next week.” The reply came quickly. “I respect your decision. I’ll help you with the resignation process. It’s a shame, though. The firm was planning to promote you to the youngest senior partner. The management committee already passed the initial review.” Senior partner. The thing I had fought desperately for two years at Kingsley to achieve. I stared at that line of text for a few seconds, then typed a reply. “Thank you.” Then I scrolled through my phone’s contact list and found a number that had only called me once, one I had never dialed myself. Liam’s mother, Sophia Chambers. Three months ago, Liam took me to the Hunter family home for dinner for the first time. Throughout the meal, Sophia was polite but distant. Afterward, she called me alone to the study, told me I wasn’t suitable for Liam, and said I should leave sooner rather than later. She even offered me money. I refused on the spot. Sophia said nothing more, just left me a phone number. Now, I dialed it. “But I agree to break up with him.” There were two seconds of silence on the other end, then Sophia laughed, the kind of laugh that saw through everything with disdain. “I’ll give you five million dollars. I’ll send the check to your company.” “No need.” The call had already ended. I gripped my phone. I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes for a moment. Liam’s voice filled my head. “This pawn will have served her purpose.” But I didn’t want to believe it. I still remembered the night I first met Liam. I had just joined the firm three months earlier and taken on a rotten case no one else wanted to touch. The defendant was a local real estate developer with connections, and the plaintiffs were a group of workers whose construction payments had been withheld. Everyone advised me not to take it. Even if I did, I couldn’t win. Even if I won, I’d make enemies. I took it anyway. For two straight weeks I lived in the office, sleeping only four hours a day. The rest of the time I spent combing through case files, searching for evidence, and writing legal briefs. One night at three in the morning, I couldn’t hold on anymore and fell asleep at the conference table. When I woke up, there was a jacket draped over my shoulders and a still-warm cup of coffee on the table. Sitting beside me was a man I’d never seen before, flipping through the case files I had spread out. “Your case, the breakthrough isn’t in breach of contract. It’s in the money trail.” He didn’t look up, just pointed at a page in the file. “Follow this line and you’ll find their off-the-books accounts.” I was stunned. I looked at the file and realized the loophole he’d pointed out was something I’d missed after two weeks of searching. “Who are you?” The man looked up. Under the lights, his features were sharp, his eyes carrying a kind of casual coolness. “Liam Hunter.” Later I learned that this man who had guided me through a case at three in the morning was the only son of Kingsley’s founding partner, Richard Hunter. After that, Liam began appearing frequently in my work life. He’d bring me late-night snacks when I worked overtime. When I didn’t eat them, he’d leave them at the corner of my desk, and when they got cold he’d replace them with fresh ones. He’d block me from the firm’s obligatory drinking parties. When everyone else avoided me, he would casually sit in the empty seat beside me, open a case file, and say he wanted to look at my case. I refused him many times. I knew what my status was, and I was clear about the distance between us. But Liam didn’t care. He never gave expensive gifts, at least not at first. He gave me band-aids because my new shoes gave me blisters. He gave me a voice recorder because I always forgot details from court hearings. He gave me a folding umbrella because I never checked the weather forecast. They were all inconspicuous little things, but each one precisely met a need of mine. So when he asked me seriously one more time if I’d give him a chance, I nodded. Clearly, all I ever wanted was him as a person, not his money. But now I knew. Even him as a person was fake. I opened my eyes. The office was nearly empty now, and the lights in the hallway were going out one by one. I stood up to gather my things from the desk, preparing to leave. I pushed open the office door, and suddenly the safety stairwell door at the end of the hallway burst open. A man stumbled out, his suit rumpled, reeking of alcohol, holding up his phone with my photo displayed on the screen. “It’s you.” The man squinted as he looked me up and down, the corner of his mouth twisting upward. “Miss White, you’re prettier in person than in the photos.” I took a step back. “Who are you?” The man grinned, his steps unsteady as he closed in on me, grabbing my wrist. “Don’t be nervous. If you can sell your photos, surely you won’t cost more than the photos, right? Name your price. I can afford it.” His grip was strong, causing a sharp pain in my wrist. I struggled hard but couldn’t break free. Just as I was about to kick him, a hand reached from the side, grabbed the man by his collar, and yanked him backward. Then came a dull thud. Liam’s fist slammed into the man’s face with enough force to knock him to the ground. Blood immediately gushed from his nose. He kicked the man. “Get lost.” His voice wasn’t loud, but it was as cold as ice. The man covered his face and scrambled away. Liam turned around and looked at my wrist. Red marks had already surfaced. He frowned and reached out to examine it. “Why are you still at the office this late? Does it hurt? I’ll take you-” I pulled my hand back. I looked at the face in front of me. The same concern as always, the same tenderness as always, the same… perfectly timed response as always. Perfectly timed enough to make me believe he actually cared about me. “Nora? Still angry about the document?” Liam’s tone softened. “I didn’t send that document. I lent my phone to a friend for a few days. He went too far sometimes. I already scolded him and I’m having people delete it.” “Liam.” I interrupted him. My voice was so soft that the echo in the hallway was louder than my own voice. “Let’s break up.” Liam’s expression froze for an instant. Before he could speak, the elevator door at the other end of the hallway opened. Vivian Whitlock walked out. She wore a white dress today, her long hair falling over her shoulders, holding a bouquet of flowers. Seeing Liam and me standing face to face, her steps suddenly halted. The bouquet slipped from her hands. “Liam… you and her…” Her voice trembled, tears immediately welling up in her eyes. “Are you two really together?” Before she could finish, she turned and ran into the stairwell. Liam’s expression changed. He glanced at me once, then turned and chased after her. As he passed me, his shoulder slammed heavily into mine, causing me to stumble back two steps. My back hit the wall. I didn’t cry out in pain. I slowly steadied myself and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window at the end of the hallway. Below was the firm’s courtyard garden. In the night, the streetlights stretched two people’s shadows very long. Liam grabbed Vivian’s wrist, rain falling on his shoulders. He seemed oblivious to it. “Yes, the Hunters and Whitlocks are enemies. So what? Even if it means defying the entire Hunter family, even if the whole world opposes it, I only want you.” Vivian looked up, tears and rain mixing together. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his lips. Liam cupped her face with both hands and kissed her back forcefully. I stood at the window, looking down at this scene. I returned to my apartment, took a shower, and lay in bed. I didn’t sleep all night.

Nora White POV The next day, I went to the firm as usual. When I walked into the office area, the atmosphere was wrong. A group of people surrounded my workstation, talking over each other. When they saw me approaching, the crowd fell silent for a second, then someone whistled. “Miss White, another deposit today? A check for five million dollars.” My steps halted. I pushed through the crowd. An envelope sat on my desk. It had already been opened. Inside was a check from the Hunter family’s exclusive account. Amount: five million dollars. It was from Sophia Chambers. Before I could reach for it, the check was snatched away by a male colleague nearby. He held it up to look at it, then passed it to the next person. “Who gave you permission to touch my things?” My voice was very low. No one paid attention to me. The check passed between several people’s hands, and every time I reached for it, I couldn’t get it. Those people were a full head taller than me, and their passing motion even carried a kind of playful coordination. A female colleague tilted her head to look at me, her tone rising. “Miss White, shouldn’t you update the price list in your document? The market’s going up.” Another person chimed in. “No wonder she wants to break up with Mr. Hunter. Turns out she found a higher bidder.” “You’re all overthinking it. She’s just holding out for the best price.” “Enough!” I practically shouted these two words. I never lost my composure in front of others. But now, my whole body was shaking. My throat felt like something was stuck in it, my voice hoarse and tight. The surroundings fell quiet for a second. Then came laughter that couldn’t be suppressed. “All right, everyone back to work.” At some point, the administrative supervisor had walked over, frowning as she dispersed the onlookers. I stood in front of my workstation, fists clenched, nails digging into my palms. I had to get that check back and return it to Sophia. That afternoon, I finally cornered the colleague who had taken the check in the hallway. Just as I was about to get it back, a familiar voice came from behind me. “Looking for this?” I turned around and met Liam’s dark gaze. The check was pinched between his fingers, already creased. “So you said you wanted to break up with me because of this money?” His voice was very soft, close to my ear, like a blade cutting across skin. I shook my head. “No, this money I never even-” A slap landed on my face. Several colleagues passing by all stopped in their tracks. Liam’s eyes were cold to the extreme, but a smile hung at the corner of his mouth. “Nora, I didn’t think your appetite was this big. A small-town lawyer with a humble background, this face of yours is really worth a fortune.” I covered my cheek, half my face burning. I opened my mouth, wanting to say that the money was from your mother… “I heard Miss White’s family still has quite a bit of debt?” Vivian had somehow walked to Liam’s side, her tone as gentle as if chatting about everyday matters. “Your father is a high school teacher in a small town with limited income, and he had to put you through law school. It really wasn’t easy.” Every word was fact. Every word was a knife. Liam looked down at the check in his hand, then raised his hand and threw it at my face. The thin piece of paper stuck to my cheek for a second before sliding to the ground. “I will recommend that the management committee conduct a financial audit of all cases you’ve handled.” His voice had no fluctuation. “People who practice law can’t have dirty hands.” Vivian added at the right moment. “This is for your own good. The innocent will be proven innocent.” The two of them turned and left side by side. A few passing colleagues slowed their pace, their eyes sweeping back and forth between me and the check on the ground. I bent down to pick up the check. My hands were shaking, but my movements were slow and steady. That afternoon, an announcement was posted on the firm’s internal system. My case representation authority was suspended, and an internal audit of all case accounts I had handled would begin immediately. I stood in front of the bulletin board, hands clenched into fists. Without case representation authority, I couldn’t appear in court, couldn’t sign documents, couldn’t access any case files. For a lawyer, this was no different from being crippled. And even worse, without representation authority, there was no performance commission. My current monthly income went toward student loan repayments, rent, and living expenses I sent to my father. If this money stopped, I couldn’t even survive in this city. Someone passed behind me, their voice neither loud nor soft. “An audit? I think it’s just for show. Everyone already saw what needed to be found.” “Right? She made so much money and still pretended to be poor. She also applied for quite a few of the firm’s pro bono case subsidies, didn’t she?” “Tsk, what kind of person.” I didn’t turn around. I stared at that announcement, reading it word by word, then turned and walked back to my workstation. I opened my computer and began writing an email. The recipient was the firm’s management committee. I would compile every transfer record I’d returned, every gift list I’d sent back, every complete financial record of cases I’d handled, and list them out one by one. Not to show anyone. But because I, Nora White, had nothing to feel guilty about to anyone.

Nora White POV Before the appeal email received a response from the management committee, I received even worse news. Simon Yale came to find me personally. “Nora, come to the conference room for a moment.” His expression was much more serious than usual, and as he walked ahead, he didn’t say a single unnecessary word. I followed him into the large conference room. Three senior partners sat at the other end of the long table. One of them was the management committee chairman, Vincent Pearson, the person who truly called the shots at Kingsley. A stack of documents lay in front of him, his gaze sharp. Vivian was also there, sitting in the corner with slightly red eyes, looking like she’d been wronged but was trying hard to hold it in. “Nora White, sit.” Vincent spoke, his tone flat but without pleasantries. “Yesterday, DuRay Corporation’s legal representatives formally sent us a letter stating that someone inside Kingsley leaked core evidentiary materials from the DuRay case to the opposing party. This case involves over eight hundred million dollars.” He pushed up his glasses. “We retrieved the backend records from the document management system. The last two people to access the DuRay case electronic files were you and Vivian Whitlock.” I sat up straight. The DuRay case was my most important project over the past six months. Most of the work, from filing to evidence collection to drafting the brief, was done by me. Vivian was brought in midway to assist, nominally responsible for client liaison. “Mr. Pearson, the last time I opened the case files was last Thursday. Simon assigned me to organize the data for the closing statement.” My speaking pace was measured. “That day my work records, email correspondence, and system logs can all prove that after I finished organizing, I logged out of the system. If needed, Simon can confirm this.” Simon nodded. “I can confirm that I assigned her that work that day.” Vincent’s gaze slowly moved to Vivian. “Miss Whitlock, what about you? Last Friday afternoon between three and five o’clock, you accessed all of the DuRay case electronic files. Please explain why.” Vivian’s lips trembled slightly, and she was about to speak. The conference room door was pushed open. Liam walked in. His expression was cold, as if attending an unimportant routine meeting. “Mr. Pearson, there’s no need to investigate further.” He walked to Vivian’s side, facing Vincent, and placed a USB drive on the table. “I found this USB drive in Nora White’s drawer yesterday. It contains the exact files that were leaked from the DuRay case.” What! My drawer?! There had never been any USB drive in my drawer. “Also.” Liam took out the creased check from his pocket and gently placed it next to the USB drive. “This is the five million dollar check Nora White received the day before yesterday. Everyone in the firm saw it.” He tilted his head slightly to glance at me, his gaze as calm as if looking at a stranger. “A lawyer whose representation authority has been suspended suddenly receives a large sum of money from an unknown source. Mr. Pearson, do you think this is a coincidence?” I stood up. “That USB drive isn’t mine, and that money wasn’t payment for any transaction.” “Miss White.” Vivian spoke softly, her voice carrying a trace of grievance and reluctance. “I don’t want to wrongly accuse you, but… when I accessed the system that day, I was only recording client follow-up notes. I didn’t copy anything. If it wasn’t me, then it could only be…” She didn’t finish, lowering her head. But the meaning was clear enough. Several voices came from the doorway. At some point, people had gathered outside the conference room. “I saw it. Miss White did bring a USB drive back last week. I thought it was strange at the time. Isn’t all the DuRay case material in the system?” “Plus her financial situation hasn’t been great lately, right? Her representation authority was suspended, her performance went to zero, and I heard her family still has loans to repay…” “She accepted a five million dollar check. What wouldn’t she do?” Vincent was silent for a few seconds. Then he closed the file in front of him, his voice heavy. “Nora, until the matter is investigated, the firm has decided to suspend our internal recommendation for your professional certification. This incident will be recorded in your practice file.” My heart skipped a beat. A lawyer’s practice file was my lifeline. Once I was marked with suspected leaking of client confidential information, I’d never be able to establish myself at any legitimate law firm for the rest of my life! “Mr. Pearson, I request a full review of the system operation logs and surveillance footage.” “The investigation will proceed according to protocol.” Vincent interrupted me. “In the meantime, go back and wait for notification.” His tone no longer held the neutrality from the beginning. I looked at Vincent, then at Vivian sitting in the corner with downcast eyes, and finally at Liam. He didn’t avoid my gaze. There was even an extremely faint curve at the corner of his mouth.

Nora White POV I left through the back door of the conference room. I leaned against the wall for a while, until my legs no longer felt weak, then slowly walked forward. I bought a bottle of water at the convenience store downstairs, sat on the steps by the roadside, opened the cap, and took a sip. Then I pulled out my phone. There was a message from Simon. “Nora, I believe you, but the Hunter family put pressure on this. Vincent Pearson can’t stand up to them. Don’t worry, I’ll help you figure out a way to pull the surveillance footage and logs.” I replied. “Thank you.” Then I scrolled to my chat window with Liam. The last message stopped three days ago. He had sent it. “I’ll pick you up after work tomorrow. Let’s go to that restaurant you said was pretty good last time.” I never replied to that message. And I didn’t plan to reply now. I closed my phone, sat on the steps, and stared at the trees lining the street across the road for a long time. I thought of the day my father sent me to this city. The bus ride took nearly eight hours. My father helped me load my suitcase onto the bus, stood outside the window, and waved at me on his tiptoes. He wasn’t good with words. After thinking for a long time, he only said one thing. “Nora, Dad doesn’t have much ability. From now on, you’ll have to rely on yourself. When you run into trouble, don’t be afraid. The sky won’t fall.” I lowered my head and took a deep breath. Then I stood up, patted the dust off my pants, and walked back to the firm. When I reached my workstation, Liam was already waiting for me. He leaned against the edge of my desk, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed. Seeing me return, he raised an eyebrow. “Cooled off yet?” I didn’t look at him. I walked around him, sat in my chair, and opened my computer. Liam frowned, his voice lowering. “About the DuRay case, don’t take it to heart. You know what Vincent is like. It’s just going through the motions. He won’t really do anything to you.” My fingers stopped on the keyboard. “You know full well that USB drive isn’t mine.” “You also know full well that check was from your mother.” I looked up at him. Liam’s expression stiffened for an instant. So brief. Too brief to truly capture. But my eyes had seen too many witnesses’ microexpressions in court. I saw it clearly. He knew. He knew everything. “Vivian needs the credit from the DuRay case project to compete for a partner seat.” Liam’s voice returned to calm. “You’ve already decided to leave anyway. This project is meaningless to you now. Sign a voluntary transfer statement and give your signature rights and project results to her.” I looked at him. The person in front of me had blocked drinks for me, covered me with his jacket, and found the breakthrough in my case in a conference room at three in the morning. This same person had personally placed a USB drive that didn’t belong to me on the table in the conference room, using a check I never intended to accept to nail me to the pillar of shame for selling client secrets. “I won’t sign.” I said. Liam stared at me for a few seconds. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly, as if he wanted to say something. In the end, he just straightened up, adjusted his cuffs, and left. I thought that was the end of it. If I didn’t sign, what could he do? I was leaving next week, flying to London, and would have nothing to do with anything here. But I was wrong.That night, my phone rang. It was my uncle Mike calling. “Nora! Something happened to your dad! Heart attack! The town hospital can’t handle it. He needs to be transferred immediately! The doctor said the surgery will cost at least three hundred thousand dollars!” I sat up too quickly from the bed. My vision went black. “Tell the hospital to save him no matter what it costs. I’ll figure out the money right away.” “Figure it out?” Mike’s voice suddenly shot up. “Nora, your dad received an envelope today! It was full of your… those… photos! And some kind of invoice! Your dad couldn’t handle it on the spot and…” His voice choked. “Nora, your dad saw those things and couldn’t take it. He collapsed. If you have the money, send it over quickly. The hospital is pressing hard…” It felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over my head.

Nora White POV Who sent the photos and an invoice? I thought Liam had deleted the document before, but those photos were still saved on his phone. He could use them however he wanted. And the letter was sent to my hometown. Only Liam knew my hometown address. My hands were shaking, but I still dialed Liam’s number. It rang for a long time before he answered. “You’re the one who sent it, aren’t you.” There were two seconds of silence on the other end, then Liam’s unhurried voice. “Come to your senses? Then come to the office tomorrow.” He hung up. I gripped my phone, standing in the cramped living room of my rental apartment. Outside the window were the lights of this city that would never go out. Three hundred thousand dollars. My bank account held less than twenty thousand. With my representation authority suspended, I had no income. I still owed sixty thousand dollars in student loans and had maxed out eight thousand dollars on my credit card last month. Three hundred thousand dollars, where could I possibly get it? Early the next morning, Nora White appeared at Kingsley Law Firm. Liam was waiting for me in his office. Vivian sat on the sofa holding a cup of coffee. When she saw me come in, she even smiled slightly. A document lay on the desk. “Sign this voluntary project credit transfer statement, apologize, and I’ll handle the money.” Liam’s tone was like he was discussing an insignificant business deal. I stood in place, looking at that document. The DuRay case was something I’d poured six months of my heart into. This case was my entire proof of existence at Kingsley. If I signed, I’d be completely erasing myself from this case, as if I’d never participated at all. But my father was lying in a hospital. “Lend me three hundred thousand dollars. I’ll sign.” Liam’s expression shifted. “Three hundred thousand dollars?” He laughed lightly. “Nora White, bow and apologize to Vivian, and I’ll give you five hundred thousand.” The air fell silent for a second. Vivian sat on the sofa holding her coffee, the curve of her mouth unchanged. I stared into Liam’s eyes. When he said these words, his expression showed no fluctuation whatsoever. Thinking of my father’s condition, I couldn’t wait any longer. I bent at the waist. “I’m sorry.” I looked at Vivian. Vivian lowered her head and sighed softly, looking full of pity. “Nora, why go this far? Get up.” I didn’t move. I took the document from the desk, flipped directly to the last page, and signed my name. Then I stood up. I stood very straight. “When will the money arrive?” Liam looked at me. His gaze grew complex for an instant, then returned to coldness. He picked up his phone and operated it for a moment. “The five hundred thousand is transferred.” My phone vibrated. I didn’t look at it. I turned and walked toward the door. When I reached the doorway, Vivian’s soft voice came from behind me. “Liam, thank you. Actually, I’ve been too embarrassed to say this, but the DuRay case really was a project I put a lot of effort into following up on.” Liam’s cold voice interrupted her. “You don’t need to explain to me. I’ve seen your hard work. As for Nora-” He paused. “Someone who can sell anything doesn’t deserve your concern.” The door closed behind me. I thought my heart had already died last night when I received Mike’s call. I didn’t expect it could be stabbed again. Walking out of the law firm building, I pulled out my phone. Five hundred thousand had arrived. I transferred three hundred thousand to Mike with a message. “Use this money for my dad’s surgery. Please.” The remaining two hundred thousand, along with all the previous medical bills, I transferred down to the last cent to the Hunter family’s corporate account. Then I bought a ticket on the earliest train back to my hometown. Four and a half hours later, I stood outside the ICU door at the hospital. Mike leaned against the hallway wall, his hair seeming to have turned white overnight. When he saw me arrive, he opened his mouth and his eyes immediately reddened. “Nora… your dad… he didn’t make it.” My body swayed. I barely managed to stay standing. I was still too late! I didn’t cry. It was just that all sounds disappeared in that instant. The world became silent. I spent one day handling my father’s funeral arrangements. I buried my father next to my mother. I stayed in front of the tombstone for a long time. When the sun had half-set, I cried. “Dad, I’m sorry.” “I couldn’t give you a good life.” “I have to go now. I’ll come back to see you.” Mike stood not far away. After hesitating for a long time, he walked over. “Nora, I burned all the stuff your dad received for you. I’ll explain things to the townspeople. Don’t take it to heart.” I nodded at him and said thank you. My voice was already hoarse. That evening, I returned to my rental apartment. I canceled my phone number. I canceled my bank card. I deleted all my social media accounts. Finally, I opened my closet and packed all the things Liam had given me, a windbreaker, two scarves, a pair of headphones, into a cardboard box, wrote the Hunter family address on it, and placed it by the door. I’d have it picked up by courier tomorrow. Then I picked up my luggage and called a car to the airport. My flight was in the early morning hours, heading to London. After arriving at the airport, I had no nostalgia whatsoever. I smoothly passed through security and boarded the plane. I sat by the window. As the plane took off, the city lights grew smaller and smaller, finally becoming a blur of light. I turned my face toward the window, my forehead pressed against the cold porthole. From this moment on, all that remained between Liam Hunter and me was hatred and enmity.

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The day before the Marking ceremony, I got the wedding photos from the photographer. But the bride wasn’t me. Furious, I rushed to the bridal boutique to confront Alpha Liam. The moment I pushed open the door, I saw Liam’s female childhood friend wearing my wedding dress. When I demanded an explanation, Liam calmly sat down and blamed me instead. “What are you throwing a tantrum about now? Ava was just curious and wanted to try it on. It’s not like she can damage it by wearing it.” “Ava is my best friend. It’s just a dress. Is it really worth getting this angry over? I’ll just give her this wedding dress to use for photos.” He wanted to give my wedding dress to another woman! Bullshit. I picked up the wine glass and splashed it in his face. He thought that I, a human, wouldn’t dare provoke a powerful alpha. But what he didn’t know was that my stepbrother is the alpha of Moonclaw Pack. He’s powerful, handsome, and extremely possessive. And he’s had a crush on me for a long time.

Olivia Summers POV Before the Marking ceremony, my wedding photographer Amy sent me the finalized wedding photos. I opened the package with joy and began admiring them. But I discovered that the woman standing beside Liam in the photos wasn’t me. It was Ava. The daughter of the beta serving Liam’s father. She grew up with Liam, his so-called best friend. As I flipped through more pages, there were many more photos of just the two of them. In the pictures, Ava wore an elaborate wedding dress. Liam either embraced her from behind, gazed at her affectionately, or kissed her. In one photo, Ava’s finger clearly wore the ring I had selected. I remembered that half a month ago, Liam said he needed to help Ava with a favor. So this was his idea of helping. Going to take wedding photos with his so-called good friend, then continuing to deceive me by saying they were just friends. Moon goddess above, he was deceiving his fated mate! Yes, I am the fated mate of Frostveil Pack’s alpha Liam. But I’m not a werewolf. I’m an ordinary human. Three years ago, Liam and I met at a friend’s gathering and started dating. After three years together, his proposal wasn’t anything special. Just a sentence after dinner: “Get ready. The Marking ceremony is coming up soon.” As a human who grew up in the werewolf world, I certainly knew what the Marking ceremony meant. Werewolves Mark their mates and form a strong mate bond. It’s roughly equivalent to marriage in the human world, but much more solid and binding. Liam’s willingness to officially hold a Marking ceremony with me was a pleasant surprise. But the lack of a proper proposal still left me feeling somewhat disappointed. So I discussed with Liam about at least taking a set of wedding photos before the ceremony. He agreed very reluctantly at the time, constantly complaining that I was being too much trouble. But he didn’t find it troublesome to take photos with Ava? Just then, my phone buzzed with a message from Liam. “Olivia, what do you want for dinner?” I didn’t reply. I took a screenshot of the most intimate photo of him and Ava and posted it on Ins. The caption read: “I’ve decided to let them have each other. Congratulations to my boyfriend Liam and his best friend on their wedding. Blessings!” Liam’s call came through immediately, his tone filled with angry interrogation. “Olivia! What the hell are you doing?! Delete that right now!” “Am I the one going crazy, or are you?” I said. “I already told you, I was just helping Ava out! She said she’d never done it before and wanted to experience what it felt like to wear a wedding dress and take wedding photos! As her best friend, how could I not help?” When I didn’t respond, Liam realized his tone was too harsh. He softened his voice slightly and continued more gently. “You know Ava grew up with us. She still hasn’t found her fated mate, so she wanted to experience it. There’s nothing between us. Don’t be so petty about this.” I thought his words were utterly ridiculous. “I’m being petty? Should I applaud you two sleeping together to be considered generous?!” Liam growled angrily. “Olivia! Watch your mouth! Do you think everyone is as melodramatic as you? Ava has always been straightforward. She’s not as filthy-minded as you!” “Fine, I’m the filthy one. I’ve defiled your sacred friendship.” At that moment, I felt exhausted. “The Marking ceremony is off.” Too tired to argue with him, I hung up the phone directly.

Olivia Summers POV Half an hour later, my apartment door was violently burst open. Liam stormed in, seething with rage. “Olivia!” His eyes were red as he pointed at me. “Explain yourself! What do you mean it’s off?!” I sat on the sofa, not even glancing at him. Liam grew even more furious. “Delete that Ins post right now and go apologize to Ava! Otherwise this ceremony…” He didn’t finish his sentence. I stood up and threw the Marking ceremony contract onto the coffee table in front of him. Liam froze. “What are you doing with that?” I didn’t answer. Right in front of him, I pulled out a page and tore it forcefully. “Are you insane?! Stop!” Liam reacted and tried to grab it. Too late. I didn’t stop. I tore the entire document into pieces, then raised my hand and scattered them. I watched Liam’s stunned expression and told him calmly: “I said the ceremony is off, so this thing is useless now.” Liam was completely shocked by my action. After the shock came humiliation and rage. I heard a low growl rumbling from his throat. I had no doubt he wanted to rush over and bite through my throat. But he wouldn’t. Ryan had told me that werewolves cannot kill their own fated mates. “Fine! Olivia, this is your choice. Don’t you dare regret it!” He just left those harsh words and stormed out, slamming the door violently. Looking at the mess all over the floor, I actually felt relieved. At what point in this relationship did I become so pathetic? My proposal was Liam’s casual remark after dinner: “Get ready, we’ll have the Marking ceremony soon.” All the subsequent preparations were done by me alone. For three years, I kept telling myself “he just doesn’t understand romance.” But those exquisite wedding photos Amy sent completely shattered my lie. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand. He just couldn’t be bothered to make an effort for me. Memories came flooding back. The passenger seat in Liam’s car was always Ava’s, with the excuse that “she doesn’t like sitting in the back.” We’d plan to see a movie, but he’d insist on buying an extra ticket so Ava could sit beside him. Even when Ava went out on missions, he’d follow and accompany her the whole time, leaving me sick and alone in the hospital. And my grievances were always met with just one sentence from Liam: “Why are you so petty?” For three years, I changed too much for Liam, learned to give in too much. It wasn’t love that beat me. It was him and his friend who had no boundaries. Now, I wasn’t going to put up with it anymore. I picked up my phone and started making calls one by one, canceling everything related to the Marking ceremony. “Hello, Amy? Sorry, you don’t need to come tomorrow… Yeah, that woman wasn’t me. It’s okay, it’s not your fault.” “Honey, the Marking ceremony is canceled. You don’t need to come. I can handle it. Just… don’t tell Ryan yet.” With each call I finished, I felt the shackles on me lighten a bit more. Three years of youth wasted on a dog was better than wasting a lifetime. At least there was still time.

Olivia Summers POV After Liam left, my Ins exploded. Ava posted a new update. The images showed several playful selfies of her and Liam in intimate poses. The caption was written casually but dripped with manipulation. “Oops, just wanted to experience taking wedding photos, didn’t expect it to cause some people to misunderstand. Sorry for the trouble, everyone. Guess we’ll just keep being single friends!” Immediately after, my phone started blowing up. The messages came from Liam’s friends, warriors from Frostveil Pack, and they all said virtually the same thing. “Olivia, it was just a joke. Don’t take it seriously.” “Three years together isn’t easy. Delete that Instagram post and give Alpha Liam a way out.” “You know Ava. She’s like one of the guys. Don’t overthink it.” Looking at these messages, I laughed coldly. Everyone stood on their moral high ground, urging me to be magnanimous. I understood now. They were protecting Liam. These people were Liam and Ava’s companions. They were never mine. I didn’t reply to any of them. I opened the messages and found their names, blocking them one after another without hesitation. After clearing out those people, my phone rang again. It was Liam’s mother calling. I answered: “Hello.” On the other end, Liam’s mother spoke with the pressure of an elder: “Olivia, I heard from Liam that you two had a fight. How can you talk about breaking up over a little joke?” “It wasn’t a joke.” “I watched Ava grow up. She’s like a daughter to our family. She and Liam have been playful since childhood. You need to be more understanding.” Liam’s mother’s words were full of excuses for Ava. “As Liam’s future mate and the pack’s future Luna, you need to be more gracious. Be good, delete that Ins post, and we’ll put this behind us. Don’t let everyone laugh at us.” I finally understood where Liam learned his lack of boundaries. Ava’s existence was enabled by them. If I actually ended up with him, just thinking about the future made me feel suffocated. I interrupted her. “This isn’t a joke. It’s a matter of principle. Liam and I have broken up, and that decision won’t change.” Liam’s mother became somewhat displeased. “How can you be so unreasonable? Liam is an alpha. He can do whatever he wants. Does he really need to explain himself to a human like you?” So that was it. I knew that to some werewolves, humans were too weak and looked down upon. But as times changed, most werewolves’ attitudes toward humans had become more moderate. Liam had also assured me that no one would look down on me. But his mother had just personally admitted her discrimination against me. I didn’t want to argue anymore. “Sorry, I have things to do.” I hung up and blocked this number as well.

Olivia Summers POV After hanging up on Liam’s mother, I remembered the wedding dress. It was the main gown I had designed for the Marking ceremony. I’d gone to the studio over a dozen times to work on it myself. Since I’d decided to end things, I needed to deal with it. At least pay the remaining balance or see if I could return it. I took a cab to the haute couture bridal boutique. I had just reached the VIP fitting room door and hadn’t even pushed it open when familiar laughter came from inside. “Wow, Liam, does it look good?” My hand froze on the door handle. That was Ava’s voice. Immediately after, Liam’s voice came, full of affection: “Beautiful! It’s like it was made just for you, Ava. You look gorgeous in a wedding dress.” I shoved the door open. In front of the full-length mirror, Ava was wearing the mermaid-style white gown that should have been mine. Those layers of lace were details I had stayed up late drawing and revising. Now, they were on another woman’s body. Ava stood on her tiptoes and kissed Liam on the lips. And my fated mate Liam didn’t refuse. Sometimes I really wondered if everything I’d learned about werewolves at Moonclaw Pack was fake. Didn’t they say fated mates were destiny arranged by the moon goddess, the existence werewolves valued most? Why could Liam betray me so easily? Hearing the door open, both turned around at the same time. Seeing me, embarrassment flashed across Liam’s face. “Olivia? What are you doing here?” Ava lifted her skirt and came over with an innocent expression. “Olivia, don’t misunderstand. I just thought this wedding dress was too beautiful and couldn’t resist trying it on. Don’t worry, even if I’m wearing the wedding dress, Liam will only Mark you. He’ll only recognize you as his mate.” She twirled, the hem of the dress sweeping past my feet. “Olivia, you don’t mind, right? I’ll only wear it for ten minutes.” I looked at her, then at Liam. “Take it off.” Liam frowned. “Olivia, what are you throwing a fit about now? Ava just wanted to try it on out of curiosity. It’s not like she can damage it.” “This is my wedding dress.” I stared at Liam. “It was custom-made for me. I was supposed to wear it at the Marking ceremony. Liam, do you have any sense of boundaries at all?” “Are you done?” Liam impatiently put down his phone. “Ava is my best friend. It’s just a dress. Is it really worth getting this angry over? At worst, I’ll just give her this wedding dress to use for photos from now on.” Give it to her? I laughed in disbelief. The wedding dress I had custom-made had become, in his mouth, something to make another woman happy. “Oh no, Liam, don’t scold Olivia. It’s all my fault…” Ava looked like she was about to cry and frantically tried to grab my hand. Just then, the cup of bright red strawberry tea in her hand accidentally slipped. The red tea spilled out, most of it splashing onto the white wedding dress. Large dark red stains quickly spread across the snow-white lace. “Ah!” Ava screamed, covering her mouth. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” Liam’s first reaction wasn’t to look at the wedding dress. He grabbed Ava and nervously checked her hands and clothes. “Are you okay? Did you get your clothes dirty?” After confirming Ava was fine, he turned to look at the mess on the floor and frowned at me. “Look what you did. You came here to yell at her and scared Ava so badly she couldn’t even hold her cup. Fine, it’s just some tea stains. Have the staff dry clean it. Don’t make such a big deal out of it.” I looked at the ruined wedding dress, my heart turning cold. “No need to wash it.” I raised my head. “I find dirty things disgusting.” Liam froze. “What do you mean?” I turned and walked straight to the counter, slamming the invoice I hadn’t yet paid the balance for onto the desk. “Manager, I’m not returning this wedding dress. I’ll settle the balance now.” “Since Ava likes it so much and has ruined it, please have Liam pay in full. Liam, didn’t you just say you wanted to give it to her for photos? Pay up.” Liam’s eyes widened. “Olivia, are you insane? This costs hundreds of thousands!” “What’s wrong? Not willing to spend money on your best friend?” I said. “Weren’t you being pretty generous just now?” The staff and customers around us all cast watching eyes, pointing and whispering. Liam couldn’t save face. He gritted his teeth, pulled out his bank card, and slammed it on the desk. “Fine! I’ll pay! It’s just a broken wedding dress! Only you would treat it like a treasure! I’ll buy it and give it to Ava so you can stop being sarcastic here.” The card went through successfully. Ava was still pretending to object on the side. “Liam, it’s too expensive. I can’t accept it…” “Take it!” To save face, Liam’s voice was loud. “Wear it whenever you want from now on!” I nodded, looking at Liam. “Remember what you said today. This wedding dress belongs to you two now.” With that, I walked out of the bridal boutique. Behind me came Liam’s exasperated voice: “Olivia, stop right there! What kind of scene are you making now? You’re getting more and more unreasonable!” I didn’t stop. Tears fell, but I quickly wiped them away.

Olivia Summers POV By the time I got home, it was already evening. I felt cold all over, my stomach sending waves of spasming pain. It might have been from the rage at the bridal shop earlier, combined with not eating all day. My old stomach problem had flared up. When I first arrived at Moonclaw Pack, I was terrified of these savage people who would start a fight over anything. I was afraid I’d become like them. So I tried to stay out of sight. I ate as little as possible. Ideally, I wouldn’t touch their food at all. Until my stepbrother Ryan found me passed out from hunger and took me to the pack’s elderly healer. After that, Ryan started learning how to make human food and supervised my meals every day. But the problem of stomach spasms from not eating had lingered. I just didn’t expect it to relapse at this moment. I forced myself to walk into the bedroom and pulled out my suitcase. I didn’t want to stay in this house for one more minute. I started stuffing my clothes into the case. The twisting pain in my stomach continued. I just wanted to finish packing quickly. Just then, the sound of a key in the lock came from the front door. Liam was back. He was carrying several takeout boxes. Seeing me packing, Liam froze for a moment, then showed an expression of impatience. “What are you making a scene about now? I already bought the wedding dress and paid for it. You’re still not over it? Now you’re running away from home?” In his view, I was purely throwing a tantrum. I had no energy to argue with him. I clutched my stomach and slowly crouched down. “Liam, do you have any medicine? Help me get some water.” Liam walked over with a frown. “Stop acting. You were fine at the store just now. How are you suddenly sick as soon as you get home?” “My stomach hurts. It really hurts…” Liam scoffed. “Come on, Olivia. How many times have you used this trick? Every time we fight, you suddenly don’t feel well. Can’t you come up with something new?” Even though he said this, he still put the takeout on the table and turned to get water. Just then, his phone rang. Liam’s expression changed, and he immediately answered: “Hello, Ava?” From the other end came Ava’s tearful voice: “Liam, there seem to be some rogue wolves near my house. I’m so scared…” Liam’s voice instantly became gentle as he coaxed her patiently: “Don’t be afraid. I’ll be right there!” Liam hung up and rushed toward the door. “Liam…” I lay by the bed, using my last bit of strength to grab the hem of his pants. “I really feel terrible. Take me to the hospital…” Liam stopped and looked down at me. He said impatiently: “Stop pretending!” He shook off my hand forcefully. “There are rogues near Ava’s place. What if something happens to her? You just have a stomachache. There’s stomach medicine in the cabinet. Can’t you take two pills yourself? Do you have to put on this act right now? Even throwing tantrums should have priorities!” With that, he didn’t spare me another glance on the floor and strode out of the bedroom. “Bang!” The door slammed shut. The pain in my stomach felt like it was tearing me apart, but the coldness in my heart was even worse than the pain. I curled up on the floor, tears silently soaking into the carpet. So in Liam’s heart, I really couldn’t compare to Ava. I used to think his neglect of me was because he didn’t understand human physiology. But I suddenly realized that my stepbrother Ryan, also a werewolf, could detect my condition. Tonight I finally understood. I had just been deceiving myself. After a long while. I struggled to get up, rummaged through the drawer for stomach medicine, and dry-swallowed two pills. The bitter taste spread through my mouth. Looking at the empty room, I suddenly laughed. Good thing the Marking ceremony hadn’t happened yet. Liam, since you like being with her so much, then stay with her forever.

Olivia Summers POV Early the next morning, Liam pushed the door open. I sat on the sofa without even glancing at him. Liam changed his shoes while announcing: “Ava’s place isn’t safe lately. She’ll be staying in our guest room for the next few days.” As soon as he finished speaking, Ava poked her head out wearing Liam’s shirt, carrying the bag with the stained wedding dress. “Morning, Olivia! Liam gave me this wedding dress. I’m planning to shorten it into a cocktail dress. You don’t mind, do you?” I glanced at the oversized men’s shirt. It was Liam’s clothes, now worn by another woman. I smiled. “I don’t mind. If you like picking up other people’s unwanted old clothes that much, keep it.” Ava’s expression stiffened. She hadn’t expected me to snap back like that. Liam frowned, scolding me with displeasure: “Olivia, watch your language. It’s just a piece of clothing.” I laughed coldly, too lazy to waste words, and turned back to my room. That evening. A pungent spicy chili aroma came from the living room. Liam came out carrying two bowls of noodles. Ava sat at the table and eagerly took one: “Smells amazing! Liam, you’re so good to me. You knew I wanted to eat this.” Liam placed the other bowl in front of himself and turned to tell me: “You don’t like eating this kind of thing. There’s plain rice porridge in the pot. Help yourself.” Ava ate while sighing: “Poor Olivia, can’t eat such delicious noodles and can only drink tasteless porridge.” I stood in the bedroom doorway, looking at those two polarized dinners, and suddenly laughed. I walked to the dining table and looked at Liam. Liam felt uneasy under my laughter and looked up impatiently: “What are you laughing at?” “Laughing at your poor memory.” I said. “Liam, who told you I was born loving plain rice porridge?” Liam froze, then slammed his utensils on the table: “What are you going crazy about now? Haven’t you been eating like this for three years?” “Yes.” I smiled. “But wasn’t all of this because you said you didn’t like heavily flavored food?” Liam seemed to recall that incident, looking embarrassed. “I… Ava wanted to eat it, so I tried it with her.” Then he suddenly became defensive with embarrassment. “You didn’t want to eat it. Could I force you? Eat it or don’t!” He really couldn’t force me. So I was foolish. That version of me who loved him so much she lost herself. I straightened up and nodded coldly. “You’re right. From now on, I won’t touch anything I don’t like.” With that, I turned to leave. “Stop.” Liam called out to me, switching to a gentler tone: “Jason’s having a gathering tomorrow night at the usual place. You come too.” I paused mid-step, my back to him, saying nothing. Liam thought I was putting on an act, his tone growing more impatient: “Don’t make a scene again. Everyone’s been unhappy these past few days because of the wedding dress thing. Tomorrow when you go, it’ll be a good opportunity to make peace with Ava and we can put this behind us.” As long as I obediently showed up tomorrow and obediently backed down, he’d forgive me for my unreasonable behavior these past few days. Behind me came Ava’s saccharine voice: “That’s right, Olivia. Everyone’s waiting for you. You wouldn’t refuse, would you?” I turned around. I looked at these two, clearly on the same page. “Sure.” I looked at Liam and smiled. Liam frowned, but hearing me agree, he still relaxed a little. “Good. At least you’re being reasonable.” I said nothing more and returned to my room. Go? Of course I’d go. Since I was settling the score for the past three years, how could I forget about those people? I wanted everyone to know exactly what kind of scumbag Liam really was!

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On my wedding anniversary with my husband, his female friend Heather pointed at Ethan and suddenly said: “Actually, today is a double celebration. I’m pregnant with your child.” I was thunderstruck and immediately demanded an explanation. Ethan just laughed nonchalantly and laid it all out: “We grew up together. Exploring each other’s bodies is perfectly normal. She and I are fuck buddies at most. You’re still my legitimate wife.” Dizzy, I fell down the stairs and tumbled to the ground. A sharp pain shot through my lower abdomen, and blood instantly stained my white dress. I trembled as I pulled out my pregnancy test results: “Ethan, I…” Before I could finish, he interrupted me with a sneer: “What tricks are you playing now? Trying to use a fake pregnancy to make Heather get an abortion?” Heather also covered her mouth and laughed: “Natalie, did your blood pack leak? Your acting is so fake. Everyone knows you’re infertile. Stop pretending.” Lying in a pool of blood, watching him hold someone else, I finally made a decision. I accepted my college classmate’s invitation to study at an overseas research institute.

I don’t know how long I’d been lying in the hospital, but I was awakened by the heavy breathing of a man and woman on the ward’s sofa. “Heather, Natalie’s still lying in the hospital bed. Let’s go somewhere else.” “This is so exciting! Right in front of your own wife…” I slowly opened my eyes. A naked man and woman were entwined together. I trembled with rage, finding it hard to believe. This past year, Ethan had used his supposed germophobia as an excuse, and our intimate moments could be counted on one hand. Even when going through the motions mechanically, he always frowned with disgust, calling me revolting afterward, like a bitch in heat. He’d rush to the bathroom as if trying to scrub off a layer of skin. Listening to Heather’s passionate moans, the last trace of warmth remaining in my heart finally turned cold. Ethan unconsciously glanced at me. Only when he saw me motionless did he relax. “This won’t affect our child, will it?” Heather’s voice was sweet and soft: “I asked the doctor. Both your babies can handle moderate activity…” I touched my flat abdomen, tears streaming down my face. The two of them changed positions several times. After more than ten minutes, they finally finished everything amid gasps and satisfaction. After they left, I struggled to sit up. Seeing the miscarriage report on the table, my whole body began to shake uncontrollably. Ever since my uterus was injured, I’d undergone all kinds of treatments to conceive this child. But ten years of feelings, in Ethan’s eyes, ultimately couldn’t compare to a few of Heather’s fake tears and her lies that twisted the truth. After sitting numbly on the sofa all night, I finally saw things clearly. I picked up my phone and decisively replied to my college classmate’s message: “I agree to the overseas study program you mentioned before. But I have one requirement: keep it completely confidential from my family.” Then I tore the miscarriage report into pieces and threw it in the trash. Someone knocked on the door. Ethan walked in and saw the report in the trash can. “You know everything?” He gently pulled me into his arms: “Natalie, we’ll have another child. Heather’s pregnant, so it’s normal for her to be temperamental. Just bear with it.” Smelling the pungent perfume on him, I suppressed my nausea and pulled away: “What exactly do you take me for? Heather’s a pregnant woman who can’t be wronged, but what about me?” Ethan’s expression instantly darkened: “Stop making a scene, okay?” The weather was hot, but my heart was ice cold. That’s right, in Ethan’s view, when guests at the family banquet drowned my dog and I demanded justice, I was “making a scene”; when my intimate photos were spread by Heather and I warned her, I was “making a scene”; when I nearly died in difficult labor and interrupted his date with Heather to sign critical condition forms, that was also “making a scene.” I stared straight into his eyes, trying to find traces of the Ethan who had personally decorated the nursery during my first pregnancy, who had stayed up all night choosing names for the child. But meeting his gaze, I saw only cold ice in Ethan’s eyes. I pulled at the corner of my mouth and spoke hoarsely: “Let’s divorce, Ethan.”

“You and your mother both need my money to live. Natalie, don’t joke around.” Ethan frowned at me, his attitude still superior: “Besides, with my status…” “Ethan, stop wasting time on her.” Heather interrupted our conversation, linking her arm with Ethan’s and acting coquettish: “Today’s the third-week anniversary of my pregnancy. The fireworks show is about to start. Let’s go watch!” The irritation in the man’s eyes instantly vanished. His lips curved upward as he walked toward the floor-to-ceiling window with Heather: “Be careful, don’t hurt the baby.” “The fireworks show was specially prepared for you. I dare anyone to start without you!” I watched the brilliant fireworks in the sky, feeling somewhat dazed. Years ago, on the night Ethan confessed to me, he couldn’t even afford a decent bouquet of roses. He only held a few cheap sparklers, clumsily lighting them for me. His face was red then, but his eyes were incredibly sincere: “I’ll definitely give you the best life in the future. I’ll give you the biggest fireworks show.” But now we had everything—money, power, everything except love. He could give Heather and the child in her belly a spectacular fireworks display, but he wouldn’t spare me even a word of concern. As the fireworks faded, people in the hospital corridor exclaimed in amazement: “Mrs. Evans is so blessed! Even her pregnancy gets celebrated with a million-dollar fireworks show!” “I heard she’s been accompanied throughout her conception planning and prenatal checkups by Mr. Evans himself, afraid something might go wrong!” Hearing these words, I felt like I’d fallen into an ice cave, trembling all over. So Heather’s pregnancy wasn’t an accident at all! He’d even indulged her in replacing me as Mrs. Evans in front of others, all to give Heather’s child legitimacy. “Crash!” Behind me came the sound of breaking glass. Heather grabbed my arm, sobbing: “Natalie, I accidentally broke your photo frame. Sorry.” My body stiffened imperceptibly. The photo in that frame was the only picture of my grandmother and me before she passed. Even the frame itself was a birthday gift my grandmother had carved for me. Ethan couldn’t possibly not know this. Anger surged in my heart as I shook off the woman’s hand: “Pick it up, clean it, and give it back to me!” But when Heather bent down while clutching her belly, Ethan swiftly picked up the frame and threw it at my head: “Natalie, I thought you’d be sensible, but I didn’t expect you to be so vicious!” Vicious? I laughed out loud. Going to checkups alone, letting outsiders replace my identity as Mrs. Evans, deliberately smashing my grandmother’s keepsake—facing all this differential treatment, Ethan could still call me vicious. Blood from my forehead mixed with tears. I couldn’t help but mock myself: “Ethan, in your eyes, my repeated forbearance is vicious, but Heather causing my miscarriage is just an accident. Don’t you find that absurd?” Ethan’s chest heaved violently. Then Heather said tearfully: “Don’t be angry with Natalie. She just lost her child, so it’s normal for her to be temperamental!” She pushed the man toward the door: “After all, this is between Natalie and me. Let us resolve it ourselves! Besides, don’t you need to handle Natalie’s discharge procedures? Hurry up.” Ethan instructed with concern: “Be careful then, don’t hurt the baby.” After the man left, Heather no longer concealed the malice in her eyes: “Ethan and I have been like two peas in a pod since childhood. Our bond naturally runs deeper than yours. Once I give birth to this child, how much longer do you think you can stay by his side?” Facing her low-level provocation, I didn’t react impulsively as I used to. I just silently picked up the photo from the floor: “He’s just garbage. If you want him, take him. But Heather, stolen goods will never truly be yours!” Perhaps she’d never seen me so sharp before. She stood dazed for a long time. Seeing me walk out of the ward, she finally shouted in exasperation: “Natalie, you just wait!” I left the hospital directly and pulled out my phone to message the divorce attorney: “I’ve sent the evidence of infidelity to your email. Make sure to check it.” After sending the message, I returned to the villa to pack my luggage. But the moment I walked out the villa’s front door, bodyguards blocked my way.

Ethan was furious: “Heather had a miscarriage. Did you do it!” Before I could answer, he angrily grabbed my throat: “Who else but you couldn’t tolerate the child in her belly!” I was confused: “Ethan, what are you talking about? I…” He slapped me across the face. Looking into each other’s eyes, only shocking ferocity remained in Ethan’s: “Heather is delicate. You must apologize to her in person!” He turned to the bodyguards and commanded sharply: “Take Natalie to the hospital!” Already weak, I couldn’t resist the bodyguards’ restraint. By the time we reached the hospital, Heather was watching me with a victor’s gaze: “Ethan, I lost my child. A simple apology won’t make this go away!” I forced myself to stand, the sharp pain in my abdomen making me stagger. Ethan instinctively stepped forward: “Are you uncomfortable?” Then, thinking better of it, he looked at me with disgust: “Trying to play weak to avoid punishment? Kneel and apologize to Heather!” My heart turned completely cold: “I won’t admit to something I didn’t do!” Heather’s provocative expression intensified: “Fine, since Natalie won’t apologize, let’s have her mother from the nursing home kneel and beg for my forgiveness. Ethan, like mother like daughter! We need to solve this problem at its root!” Hearing her threaten to use my mother to make me submit, I couldn’t take it anymore and lunged forward to grab her throat: “She knows nothing about this. Don’t drag my mother into this!” The next second, Ethan violently pushed me away: “Have you lost your mind, Natalie? I told you to apologize to teach you a lesson, not to escalate your attacks on Heather!” I crashed heavily onto the floor, every bone radiating dense pain. “Go bring Natalie’s mother here!” My heart seized with panic. Looking up, I saw Heather’s increasingly smug expression. My eyes reddened: “My mother is my only family. You can’t touch her!” To break free from restraint, I bit down on Heather’s arm. Ethan was livid and flung me three meters away: “Natalie, will you ever stop!” I flew straight into the window, countless glass shards piercing my skin. Ethan instinctively took a step forward, but Heather rushed over to help me first: “When that old hag arrives, guess how I’ll torture her?” My heart raced with panic: “My mom is old. She can’t take any harm!” In my panic, I grabbed a fruit knife nearby and rushed at Heather. “Ah! Help!” Unexpectedly, Ethan blocked the woman. The bodyguards pinned me firmly to the ground. “I’ve been more than generous with you. What has Heather ever done to you? Look at yourself—you’re like a shrew!” Ethan’s eyes turned red with anger, pointing at my nose and roaring. But all I could think about was my mother’s uncertain fate. I cried my heart out: “I’ll apologize! Just don’t touch my mother, and I’ll kneel and apologize!”

And so, I knelt at the hospital room door, slapping myself over and over, saying “I’m sorry” repeatedly. People came and went through the corridor, excitedly watching the spectacle. My forehead kept hitting the marble floor, quickly becoming bloody. A flash of shock crossed Ethan’s eyes. He instinctively moved to pull me up. But Heather covered her nose in disgust: “Ethan, I just had a miscarriage and can’t stand the smell of blood. Make her get away!” Ethan hesitated for a moment, then issued his command: “She’s gone mad. Lock her and her mother in the private apartment to clear their heads!” Supporting my weak body, I was pushed into a dark room. My mother was curled up in a corner. My heart ached as I slowly pulled my mother into my arms: “Mom, don’t scare me. Open your eyes and look at me…” Seeing me, tears filled my mother’s eyes. Her aged hand caressed my cheek: “Natalie, leave him. I can’t burden you anymore.” Then, with a blade she’d found somewhere, she slashed her wrist. Blood gushed out. “No!” The person in my arms stopped breathing. I couldn’t help but scream loudly, my face full of hatred and despair, tears streaming down, nearly collapsing: “I’ll do whatever you say, Mom! Wake up!” Then Ethan knocked on the door: “What’s going on?” I screamed in agony: “I’m going to kill Heather! That murderer!” “So cold… Ethan, let’s go back to the hospital!” The woman fell into the man’s embrace, urging softly. Ethan’s eyes showed complex emotions as he instructed the bodyguards: “It’s cold at night. Turn up the bedroom temperature. Natalie just had a miscarriage and can’t handle the cold.” Heather shot a vicious look at the bodyguards. The bodyguard at the door immediately complied. The heat suddenly intensified. Sweat soaked through my clothes. When I smelled the rotting odor from my mother’s body, I completely broke down, pounding on the iron door with all my strength: “Let us out! Ethan, there’s something wrong with this air conditioning!” As my vision began to darken, my knees were scraped raw, and my whole body felt like the skin had been peeled off. In my ears was Ethan’s final warning: “Natalie, I’ll let you out when you’ve learned your lesson. Heather lost her child. You need to suffer before she’ll be satisfied.” I curled up, my whole body paralyzed by the heat on the floor. I used my last bit of consciousness to speak: “Ethan…” Before completely losing consciousness, I fell into a strong, powerful embrace. A man’s voice was low: “Go investigate everything that happened today thoroughly!” Meanwhile, when Ethan was taking Heather to the hospital for a checkup, he saw breaking news on the lobby screen. The video showed the apartment where Natalie was locked had suddenly exploded. Then dozens of charred bodies were carried out. Ethan suddenly saw the wedding ring he’d given Natalie now on one of the charred corpses! Countless strings seemed to snap in his mind. Panic swept through his entire body: “No way… Natalie has always been lucky. It can’t be such a coincidence!” He scrambled to the explosion site and grabbed a police officer’s arm: “My wife is still inside the apartment. Have all these victims been identified?” The medical examiner removed his mask: “You’re Natalie’s family, right? If nothing unexpected, her body is in the first-floor lobby.”

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On the fifth day of my postpartum recovery, my husband suddenly brought his mistress into the VIP postpartum suite. He yanked off my blanket and forcibly exposed my engorged chest to the air. “Her kid just got weaned and is throwing tantrums. You’ve got plenty of milk—hurry up and pump a bowl to feed him!” He moved toward me with a breast pump without any regard, his eyes looking at me like I was a free dairy cow. I desperately tried to cover my chest, but he pinned my wrists to the bed with a death grip. His mistress stood beside him holding a bowl, smacking her lips with malicious intent. “Summer, you’re a mother now. Can’t you even spare some milk? How can you bear to watch my child go hungry?” In my panic, I grabbed the scalding hot chicken soup that had just been delivered to my bedside and threw it at them. “Then have this bowl of soup too!” “Murder!” The boiling chicken soup, meat and all, hit her face. The greasy broth dripped down. Ethan raised his hand and slapped me hard across the face without hesitation. “Summer, are you insane?!” My ears rang. I stared in disbelief at this man I’d been with for years. “You dare hit me?” Ethan’s face was full of rage as he pointed at my nose and cursed. “So what if I hit you? Look at what you’ve done!” “Rose came here out of the goodness of her heart to see you. Fine, you won’t give milk, but then you throw boiling water on her!” “How can a woman be so vicious? Has your conscience been eaten by dogs?” Rose covered her face and rolled on the ground. “Oh my face! It’s ruined!” “Ethan, your wife is too cruel. I just felt bad that my little Toby had no milk to drink!” “She’s so engorged—what’s wrong with pumping out a little? It’s not like we’re asking her to die!” “I think she just looks down on us poor relatives from the countryside. She despises us!” Ethan grabbed my collar and yanked me up from the bed. “Summer, get on your knees and apologize to Rose right now!” “If you don’t make Rose happy today, forget about finishing your postpartum recovery!” I looked at him coldly. “Ethan, did they inject progesterone shots into your brain?” “I’m your wife. I just gave birth to your daughter five days ago!” “You bring another woman into my room, forcibly strip my clothes, and want to feed my milk to a three-year-old?” “You call that human behavior?” Ethan showed no remorse. “So what if he’s three? Three-year-olds need nutrition too!” “Your milk would just go to waste anyway. Might as well feed it to my nephew to boost his brain.” “Besides, Rose has doted on me since I was little. Without her, I wouldn’t be where I am today.” “You married me, so you have to honor her with me. That’s the rule of the Anderson family!” I laughed bitterly. “Honor her? With my breast milk?” “Ethan, are you sick? If you’re sick, go get treatment. Don’t act crazy here!” As I spoke, I reached for the call button by the bed. Ethan was quick. He grabbed the cord and yanked it hard. “Want to call for help? You think this isn’t embarrassing enough? I’m the one who’s embarrassed!” “Let me tell you, Summer—today you’re pumping that milk whether you like it or not!” He turned to look at Rose, still playing dead on the floor. “Rose, stop crying. Grab the breast pump.” “I’ll hold her down, you pump it. We’re bringing back a bowl for Toby no matter what.” Hearing this, Rose immediately scrambled up from the floor. “Ethan really does care about me. Summer, don’t take this the wrong way, but women are just milk-producing tools after having kids. Now that you’re producing, who cares who drinks it?” I struggled desperately, kicking and crawling toward the corner of the bed. “Get away from me! Don’t touch me!” “This is illegal! I’m calling the police!” Ethan pounced on me, his knee pressing hard on my freshly sutured abdomen. “Call the police? Go ahead! Can the police stop a husband from having his wife pump milk?” “You’re just a selfish, poisonous woman who won’t even make this small sacrifice!” He pinned my hands down, twisting my arms behind my head. Rose took the opportunity to lunge forward and rip open my hospital gown.

“Ethan, if you let her touch me today, I will never forgive you!” Ethan snorted coldly, his eyes full of disdain. “Never forgive me? You’re just a receptionist. Without me, could you even survive?” “If I hadn’t been charitable enough to marry you, you’d still be starving in some rental apartment!” “This VIP postpartum suite costs eighteen thousand a day, and my mother paid for it. What right do you have to make a scene here?” Eighteen thousand a day, paid by his mother? Absolutely ridiculous. Just as Rose’s breast pump was about to touch me, urgent knocking suddenly came from outside. “Is the patient in room 602 okay? Did someone press the call button?” A nurse’s voice came from outside the door. Ethan put on a gentle, refined smile and went to open the door. “Nurse, it’s nothing.” “My wife just gave birth and her emotions are unstable. She accidentally touched the cord.” The nurse looked inside suspiciously, her gaze landing on Rose’s oil-stained clothes. “What happened to this lady?” Ethan sighed, putting on a helpless expression. “My wife has postpartum depression and a bad temper. She just threw soup on Rose.” “We’re trying to calm her down. I’m so sorry for the trouble.” The nurse looked at me lying pale in the bed. “Emotional fluctuations after childbirth are normal. Family members need to be understanding.” “However, if there are violent tendencies, I suggest bringing in a psychologist.” I used all my strength to call for help. “Help me! He’s abusing me!” But my voice was extremely weak. Ethan walked over and held my hand with fake concern. “Summer, I know you’re suffering. Stop talking nonsense.” “Nurse, you can go ahead. I’ll take good care of her.” The nurse nodded and closed the door as she left. The moment the door closed, the tenderness on Ethan’s face vanished instantly. “Smart move, not saying anything crazy.” “Otherwise I’ll send you to a mental hospital where you’ll never see your daughter again!” I didn’t argue back. Fighting head-on now would only hurt me more. Just then, the hospital room door was pushed open again. My mother-in-law, Martha, walked in carrying large bags. “Oh my goodness, Rose, what happened to you?” Rose immediately threw herself at Martha, crying dramatically. “Martha, you have to help me!” “I came to see her out of kindness, and not only won’t she feed Toby, she threw boiling soup on me!” “If my face is ruined, how can I face people?” Martha immediately pointed at my nose and started cursing. “Summer, you dare hit my niece?” “We let you stay in such a nice place—did we bring you here to be some pampered young mistress?” “Rose came all this way. What’s wrong with asking you for some milk?” “Your milk is so fishy anyway. My Toby drinking it is doing you a favor!” I endured the pain from my incision and asked hoarsely: “Ethan said you paid for this VIP postpartum suite?” Martha hesitated, her eyes dodging. “Of course! If I didn’t pay, did you?” “Your pathetic monthly salary couldn’t even afford the toilet here!” A mocking smile appeared at the corner of my mouth. “Really? Then I’ll check the payment records tomorrow to see exactly who paid.” Ethan impatiently grabbed Martha’s arm. “Martha, don’t bother with her. She’s a lunatic right now.”

Ethan turned to look at Rose, his tone ingratiating. “Rose, I’m really sorry about today. She’s so emotional right now, her milk probably isn’t good anyway.” “If Toby drinks it and gets indigestion, that would be bad.” “Why don’t you go take a shower and change clothes? Stay here tonight.” My eyes flew open. “What did you say? Let her stay here?” This was a single VIP suite. Although there was a caregiver bed, it absolutely couldn’t accommodate a third person. Ethan rolled his eyes at me, his tone matter-of-fact. “Why not? This room is so big—leaving it empty is wasteful.” “Rose took an overnight bus to come see you. You want her to stay in a hotel? That costs money!” “Besides, Rose has had a child. She has experience. She can stay and help take care of you during recovery.” I laughed coldly. “Take care of me? Is she here to take care of me or to drain me dry?” Martha slammed her hand on the bedside table. “Summer, don’t be so ungrateful!” “Rose staying is an honor for you. Don’t be ignorant of your blessings.” “It’s settled. Rose sleeps on the caregiver bed, Ethan sleeps on the couch.” “As for you, don’t moan and groan at night and disturb their sleep!” Ethan opened the premium postpartum meal that had just been delivered and started eating with his fork. “The food at this VIP postpartum suite really is good. Better than restaurants outside.” I watched him eat with gusto. “That’s my postpartum meal. I haven’t eaten yet.” Ethan didn’t even look up. “You just threw soup everywhere. You’re probably too upset to eat anyway.” “This stuff gets fishy when it’s cold. Me eating it for you is saving food.” “Besides, you only gave birth to a useless daughter. What’s the point of eating so well? Whether you supplement or not makes no difference.” Rose walked out of the bathroom wearing my pajamas, staring at the empty plates and swallowing. “Oh my, Ethan, you ate it all? You didn’t leave me any.” Ethan wiped his mouth. “Rose, there’s bone broth in the kitchen. I’ll get it for you.” He actually ran to the kitchen and brought out a bowl of premium bone broth. It was specially prepared by the hospital to replenish my blood and qi. Rose picked up the bowl and frowned in disgust. “What is this stuff? It’s all slimy. Looks disgusting.” Ethan quickly explained. “Rose, this is good stuff!” “Women who eat it get beauty benefits. Hurry and try it.” Rose picked up the spoon and was about to put it in her mouth. The hospital room door suddenly burst open as a chubby kid charged in. “Mommy! I want meat! I want meat!” This was Rose’s three-year-old son, Toby. He slammed into Rose’s legs, nearly knocking over the bone broth. “Oh my precious baby, how did you get in here?” At the door, an old woman with a fierce face, Edna, poked her head in. “The security guards at this hospital are so blind. They wouldn’t let me in. Luckily my clever grandson snuck in when they weren’t looking.” I looked at this whole clan of people and felt my temples throbbing. “Ethan, get them out of here immediately! This is a VIP postpartum suite, not your village marketplace!” Ethan’s face darkened. “You shut up! This is Rose’s mother-in-law. How dare you talk like that?” Toby saw the bone broth in Rose’s hands and immediately reached for it. “I want that! I want it!” Rose quickly handed the bowl over. “Okay, okay, Toby eat it. Eat more to grow tall.” Toby scooped a big spoonful into his mouth. The next second, he spat it all out onto the carpet. “Disgusting! What is this garbage!”

Crash! The porcelain bowl shattered on the floor. I looked at the mess and shouted sternly. “You spoiled brat! Do you have any manners?!” Toby was startled by my voice, then immediately burst into loud tears. “Bad lady yelled at me! Bad lady!” Rose immediately hugged her son protectively and yelled at me. “Summer, what are you doing? You’re an adult picking on a child?” “It’s just a broken bowl! Toby’s a boy—him breaking your bowl brings you good fortune!” Edna also charged forward, pointing at my nose. “That’s right! Our Toby is the only boy in our family. He’s precious!” “You only gave birth to a useless daughter. What right do you have to yell at my grandson?” Not only did Ethan not stop them, he stepped forward. “Summer, apologize to Toby right now. You scared him. If he has nightmares tonight, I won’t let this go!” This was the simple, honest family I once believed in. “Apologize?” “Dream on.” Ethan’s patience seemed completely exhausted as he rushed over and ripped off my blanket. “Fine, you won’t apologize?” “I think you’ve gotten too comfortable in this VIP room and forgotten who you are!” He turned to Rose and Edna. “Rose, Edna, you sleep in this bed tonight.” “This mattress is imported, really soft. Perfect for Toby.” Rose’s eyes lit up as she immediately carried Toby over. “Oh my, how could I?” Despite her words, she’d already plopped down on the edge of the bed. I was horrified, clutching the sheets desperately. “Are you insane? This is my hospital bed!” Ethan grabbed my neck and started dragging me off the bed. “Your hospital bed?” “You’re a useless woman who gave birth to a girl. What business do you have in a VIP room? Go sleep on the benches in the hallway!” I’d just had a C-section five days ago. The wound wasn’t fully healed yet. Being dragged so roughly, a tearing pain shot through my abdomen. I broke out in a cold sweat, my hands desperately clawing at his. “Ethan, this is attempted murder!” Ethan winced but instead of letting go, he pressed me harder to the floor. “Murder? I’m disciplining my disobedient wife!” “If you don’t give up that bed today and pump that milk, I’ll beat you to death!” Rose fanned the flames gleefully from the side. “Ethan, you have to be harsh with women like this.” “If you don’t beat them, they won’t behave. Once you beat them into submission, they’ll know how to serve people.” Edna chimed in. “Exactly! In our village, what woman doesn’t get back to work right after giving birth?” “She’s the only one who’s so delicate, staying in some VIP postpartum suite. Bah!” I hit the cold floor hard. My wound split open. Blood stained my hospital gown. I stared at Ethan with eyes full of hatred. “Ethan, you’re going to regret this.” Ethan looked down at me from above, his eyes full of contempt. “Regret? The biggest regret of my life was marrying you!” “You think you’re something special?” “I’ll tell you the truth—I’ve been sick of your high-and-mighty act for a long time!” “Once you finish postpartum recovery, get the hell out of my house. You leave with nothing!” As he spoke, he raised his foot, about to kick my stomach. Rose shouted excitedly from the side. “Kick her! Teach her a lesson!” Just as Ethan’s foot was about to land in that critical moment— BANG! The heavy solid wood door was kicked off its hinges. The door slammed into the wall with a deafening crash. “Who are you telling to leave with nothing?” Ethan shuddered, his foot frozen in midair. Everyone in the room turned around in terror.

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