1 At my career’s breaking point, my manager and boyfriend, Nolan, told me to gain twenty pounds in two weeks to land an Oscar-bait role. I showed up hopeful, but the director sighed. “Your acting is incredible, Avery, but the character is severely emaciated. You’re all wrong.” My stomach dropped. Before I could text Nolan, I saw him across the room, smiling triumphantly at my rival. She got the role—simply because she was thinner. When Nolan met my gaze, his smile vanished. He rubbed his nose, looking exhausted. “Serena is in her prime for awards season. She needs this more than you. Your acting is too good; I had to trick you into gaining weight to let her win.” He delivered the final blow without pause. “And you’ve begged me to marry you for years. Now that you’re too heavy to book roles, we can finally settle down.” There was no romance, no vow. His eyes darted to Serena, his first love, standing nearby. I realized I was just a placeholder, a warm body waiting for her return. I laughed bitterly, slid the silver ring off my finger, and said calmly, “Forget the wedding. We’re done.” The silver ring hit the floor and rolled under a leather casting couch. Nolan’s face darkened with immediate fury. “Are you expecting me to beg you to stay in front of her? Is this your way of proving you matter?” I opened my mouth. “No…” He held up a hand, his eyes burning with impatience. “Save the excuses. Do whatever you want. Just don’t come crying to me tonight, drunk and begging to get back together.” I gripped the hem of my oversized sweater. My cheeks burned with a humiliating heat, worse than if he had slapped me across the face in front of a live audience. Serena gently tugged at his sleeve. “Nolan, I told you not to speak to women like that. Avery, he’s just blunt, he doesn’t mean any harm, please don’t be mad at…” Nolan grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the door. “Don’t waste your breath on her. Didn’t you need to go to wardrobe for your fittings?” They walked out without a single backward glance. The chemistry between them was palpable. They moved in sync, looking exactly like the leaked paparazzi photos from their romance years ago. It was as if they had never broken up at all. Someone in the casting room recorded the entire exchange. An hour later, it was posted online by an anonymous burner account. Once again, my body became the internet’s favorite punching bag. [Good lord, her body has completely let itself go. Does she know she’s an actress? Is she prepping for a role as a slaughtered pig?] [Seriously, she just blew up overnight. Zero work ethic. Could she not put the fork down for five minutes? Look at how elegant Serena Blair is!] I was born with a metabolism that punished me for breathing. The first time I was ruthlessly fat-shamed by the internet years ago, I fell into a severe depression. I had to take steroid medications just to function, which only made my weight spiral further. Directors laughed me out of rooms. I was ready to quit acting entirely. That was when Nolan pushed his way through a crowd of executives mocking me, grabbed my hand, and pulled me out of the building. He looked at my tear-streaked makeup and told me, “The world is already looking down on you. Are you going to bully yourself, too?” From that day on, he was my guiding light. I followed him, trusted him implicitly, and fell deeply in love with him. He knew exactly how agonizing my journey had been. He knew how much faith I placed in him. And today, he took that faith and crushed it under his heel. My phone buzzed. It wasn’t a text from him. It was a flood of direct messages from my top fan accounts, begging me to fire my manager. They had been telling me to drop Nolan since the very beginning, ever since my styling and roles started tanking. I used to brush it off, blindly believing that as long as my acting was solid, I could elevate any terrible script he handed me. But now, the label of “the ugly, toxic supporting character” had been permanently glued to my forehead, bleeding over into my real life. 2 I finally realized how pathetic my confidence was compared to the brutal reality he had orchestrated to elevate Serena. My assistant, Jess, let out a heavy sigh from the passenger seat of my car. “Stop reading the comments, Avery. Look, I already enrolled you in an elite weight-loss boot camp.” I took a deep breath, staring out the rain-streaked window. “Cancel it. Didn’t the agency want to pivot me to the international market? Tell Director Davis I accept his offer.” Jess whipped her head around, her jaw dropping. “But that’s a massive global franchise! You’ll be shooting on a closed set overseas for two years. What about you and Nolan?” “There is no me and Nolan,” I cut her off smoothly. “From now on, my life has absolutely nothing to do with him.” The head executives at my agency were thrilled when I agreed to the international pivot. To build up my underdog narrative, they intentionally left all the fat-shaming hashtags trending on Twitter. Thankfully, my mental armor was infinitely stronger than it used to be. The insults barely registered. I was sitting in the agency’s conference room, filling out my international transfer and visa applications, when the door violently crashed open. Nolan stormed in, his face red with fury. “I told you guys when I signed on that we do not buy negative PR for Serena! The entire internet is calling her a manipulative homewrecker right now!” His tirade choked off the second he realized I was sitting at the table. A flash of awkward guilt crossed his face. The rumor was that after Nolan and Serena broke up years ago, our agency spent a fortune to poach him. They agreed to a massive list of unequal demands. I just hadn’t realized that one of those demands was a protective clause for Serena. Looking back, it all made sickening sense. Whenever I needed good PR, he threw me to the wolves. He bought negative trending topics about my weight, my face, my personality, leaving them up for days. When I was doxxed and stalkers showed up at my front door, he didn’t show a single ounce of sympathy. Just like now. We were both getting dragged online, but his eyes were only looking out for her. A soft, mocking chuckle escaped my lips. His face instantly hardened into a scowl. “The executives promised me they wouldn’t touch her. So this was your doing, wasn’t it?” “You’re mad that I gave the role to her, so you rallied your toxic fanbase to call her a homewrecker? You’re spinning a narrative that she’s using me to sabotage your career?” I furrowed my brow. Before I could even open my mouth to defend myself, his phone rang. I caught a glimpse of the screen. Serena. He answered it on the first ring. It was a courtesy he had never extended to me, not even the night I was being chased down a highway by deranged stalkerazzi and called him for help in tears. “Nolan!” Serena’s voice was frantic on the other end. “Someone leaked photos of you and Avery on a date! Everyone is saying I’m the other woman! They’re calling me a mistress!” “She won’t stop crying,” her assistant yelled into the background. “She’s threatening to jump off the balcony to prove her innocence!” In that split second, the color drained from Nolan’s face. His knees physically buckled. He glared at me, his eyes burning with pure, unadulterated hatred. “You are a vicious, evil woman. You’re so desperate to ruin her that you’d set your own career on fire!” He didn’t give me a chance to speak. He stumbled backward and sprinted out of the room. The executive sitting across from me let out an uncomfortable sigh. “We didn’t buy those trends. Do you want me to…” I forced a polite smile. “No need. Let him think whatever he wants. I’m leaving anyway.” The executive nodded silently and collected my transfer paperwork. Less than three minutes after I walked out of the conference room, my phone chimed with a notification from Twitter. I opened the app. Nolan had just quote-tweeted the viral photo of us on a date. [Avery and I have never been in a romantic relationship. We are strictly colleagues. Serena Blair and I never broke up. Any romantic marketing involving Avery Sinclair was purely a studio-mandated PR strategy. There is no infidelity involved.] My chest seized. It felt like an invisible fist was crushing my lungs. When Nolan first became my manager, Serena’s rabid fanbase accused me of being the homewrecker who ruined their fairy-tale romance. When paparazzi finally caught us kissing a year later, the hatred multiplied tenfold. I endured a solid year of brutal cyberbullying. It got so bad the agency begged us to just go public and clear the air. 3 But Nolan always refused. He always used my career as an excuse, claiming a public relationship would ruin my marketability. He stood by and watched as millions of people called me a slut, a mistress, a home-wrecker. And now, he freely handed the public declaration of love that I had bled for over to his ex. He permanently branded me with the “mistress” label just to protect her. In that moment, I finally understood that true love knows no obstacles. The only obstacle was that he simply didn’t love me. The agency couldn’t control him anymore. They immediately moved to assign me a new manager and drafted a statement to sever all ties with him. But when it came time to hand over my portfolio, Nolan suddenly slammed the brakes. “I’ve managed her for years! No one knows her career trajectory better than I do!” The sudden 180-degree shift in his attitude was laughable. It only cemented the fact that I was nothing but a tool he needed to keep in his back pocket. I stared at him, my eyes empty, filled with nothing but profound numbness and exhaustion. “No. I know my own trajectory.” He flinched. He clearly hadn’t expected me to speak to him with such cold authority. In the past, whenever the agency suggested switching managers, I was the one who fought against it. I wanted to stay close to him. I willingly kept myself chained to him. But now that my spine was made of steel, he was completely powerless. Sensing the tension, the executive slid my international transfer forms across the table. “Look, the reality is, Avery is leaving the country…” Nolan frowned deeply. He reached out to grab the papers. My eyes narrowed. I stepped directly into his path, blocking his hand. “I am in control of my own career from now on. If you refuse to hand over the files, I will build a new portfolio from scratch.” I grabbed the papers, folded them neatly, and handed them back to the executive. I shook my head slightly. As I turned to walk away, Nolan raised his hand, his fingers twitching as if he wanted to grab my wrist. I side-stepped him effortlessly. After the disastrous meeting, I went back to my apartment and started packing my life into boxes. As I was folding clothes, my phone buzzed. A text from him. [Her mental health is incredibly fragile. I was just calming her down. Don’t overthink this.] In a sea of green text bubbles, this was the first time in an entire month he had initiated a conversation that wasn’t strictly about work schedules. And yet, it was still revolving around Serena. Whenever I texted him for comfort, whenever I needed a shoulder to cry on or just a shred of affection, his standard response was always the same three words. [Toughen up, Avery.] I didn’t immediately call him back in tears. I didn’t beg for his attention or try to explain my side of the story like I used to. What was the point? A few minutes later, the electronic lock on my front door beeped rapidly with several failed passcode attempts. My heart skipped a beat. I pulled up the security camera feed on my phone and saw him standing in the hallway. The tension in my chest evaporated. All that was left was a hollow, empty void where my expectations used to be. Our passcode was our anniversary date. He had been coming to this apartment for five years and still couldn’t remember it. Yet, when he needed to log into a social media account he hadn’t touched in two years, he remembered Serena’s birthday as the password in less than a minute. I put my packing tape down and opened the front door. His eyes were laced with genuine anxiety. “Why didn’t you open the door? I thought something happened to you.” I found the whole situation hilarious. “What could possibly happen to me? You said it yourself, I’m tough.” He frowned, the fleeting guilt in his eyes vanishing instantly. “Look, I found out Serena’s PR team bought those trending hashtags. I didn’t have all the facts, and I shouldn’t have accused you. That’s on me.” “But there is absolutely no need for you to be this petty and sarcastic. She only broke up with me back then because her management forced her to. There is nothing going on between us now.” “That statement on Twitter? She posted that using my phone. By the time I saw it, the damage was done. I already told you, we can get married right now. You really need to let this go.” I stared at the poorly concealed impatience swimming in his eyes. 4 I finally spoke. “So, if you two had never broken up, is this how you would talk to her? Would you demand she marry you without a shred of romance or a proper proposal?” He rubbed the back of his neck, visibly irritated. “That doesn’t matter. You’re in a critical phase of your career right now, you shouldn’t…” My chest contracted violently. Before he could finish his sentence, I raised my hand and slapped him directly across the face. My voice was terrifyingly calm. “You knew I was in a critical phase of my career, and you still manipulated me into gaining twenty pounds!” “You’re right. None of it matters. Whether your pathetic excuses were meant to protect me or because you’re still obsessed with her, it doesn’t matter. Because we are broken up.” “Now get the hell out of my apartment. I never want to see your face again.” His eyes widened, rimmed with a furious, humiliated red. It was the first time in five years I had ever kicked him out. He slammed the door behind him, spitting out one final, venomous threat. “You’re going to regret this!” For five years, I had bent over backward to accommodate his every mood. We had never been at each other’s throats like this. So, when he realized I was no longer his submissive, easy-to-control puppet, he resorted to the dirty tactics he usually reserved for his enemies. My interim manager told me I had to attend a high-end charity gala that evening. But when I arrived, I realized I had been tricked. It was a sleazy, low-tier corporate networking mixer. A yacht party where actresses were treated like eye candy. Nolan and Serena were sitting on either side of the wealthy studio executives. My new manager gently pushed me into the private room. “Your resources are being downgraded, Avery. You aren’t bringing in money right now. Nolan said if you can handle the drinking for Serena tonight, he’ll secure a great script for you.” Back when I was a nobody clinging to Nolan’s roster, I couldn’t book any good roles. My lack of income meant his performance bonuses tanked. To make sure I didn’t drag his career down, I secretly agreed to attend one of these shady investor banquets. It started with just drinking on behalf of the executives. But as the night dragged on, several men cornered me and started force-feeding me liquor. I tried to run, but the VIP doors were deadbolted. They pinned me down, their hands wandering all over my body. Right as I was about to give up all hope, Nolan kicked the heavy wooden doors off their hinges, grabbed a fire axe from the hallway, and smashed the mahogany dining table cleanly in half. His eyes were bloodshot as he pulled me into his chest, shielding me from the room. He drove me home, screaming at me the entire ride, calling me an idiot with no brain. He told me that these drinking banquets almost always ended in hotel rooms. He yelled until I stopped responding. Bright red blood had started spilling past my lips like water. That was the first time I ever saw genuine, unfiltered terror on his face. From that day forward, I was banned from attending any event that required alcohol. Seeing me frozen in the doorway, Serena smiled brightly and walked over. “Oh, this is all my fault. I told the investors my alcohol tolerance is terribly low, but I didn’t want to disrespect them. Nolan remembered you could hold your liquor, so he called you in.” “You don’t mind, do you? Really, we’re doing this to help you network for new roles.” I stared at the smug, provocative gleam in her eyes. Surprisingly, I felt entirely at peace. It was fine. I would drink the poison tonight. Because after tonight, every single debt, every ounce of history between Nolan and me, would be permanently erased. I picked up a heavy crystal tumbler filled with dark amber liquor. I locked eyes with Nolan, watching the sudden, nervous tension ripple across his face. “Thank you all for this wonderful opportunity.” The cheap, high-proof alcohol burned down my esophagus like battery acid. I wiped a stray tear from the corner of my eye and poured myself a second glass. “But for this next round…” Before I could finish, Nolan practically lunged out of his chair, snatching the glass from my hand. His brow was furrowed in deep, angry lines. His voice dropped to a harsh whisper. “If you can’t drink, then don’t! Do you always have to be this stubborn? Would it kill you to just admit you need me?” I smiled. I opened my mouth to speak, but a violent, metallic clattering erupted from the ceiling above us. Before any of us could look up, the entire room lurched into a violent, terrifying sway. The floor dropped out from under my heels, sending my head spinning. 5 With a heavy thud, I crashed onto the marble floor. Piercing screams erupted from the hallway outside the VIP suite. “Earthquake! It’s an earthquake! Run!” Nolan grabbed my arm, hauling me to my feet. He threw his arm around my waist, preparing to drag me toward the exit. But from behind us, Serena’s voice pierced the chaos. “Nolan! My legs… my legs won’t move! I’m so scared!” In that split second, without a single micro-expression of hesitation, he let go of my hand. “She was in a severe earthquake as a child. She has crippling claustrophobia, I can’t just leave her here.” “You need to get out on your own. If you can’t make it to the stairs, find cover! I promise I’ll come back for you!” Without waiting for a response, he scooped Serena up into his arms and sprinted past me, vanishing into the panicked crowd. I struggled to push myself up off the floor. But with a deafening crack, the massive crystal chandelier detached from the ceiling and slammed directly into my shoulder. Nolan had glanced over his shoulder right as it happened. The momentary hesitation in his eyes vanished as quickly as it appeared. He disappeared into the dust and the screaming, taking my consciousness with him. … When I finally woke up, the sterile smell of a hospital room filled my lungs. Jess was sitting by my bed, her eyes red and puffy. The earthquake hadn’t been catastrophic. The hotel suffered minimal structural damage, and there were barely any casualties. The most severely injured person in the entire building was me, knocked unconscious by a cheap light fixture. The emergency rescue teams were the ones who pulled me out of the rubble. Jess looked at me, her mouth opening and closing. I knew exactly what she wanted to say. Nolan never came back. He was busy comforting Serena. On Instagram, I saw the photo they posted. Their hands tightly intertwined. The caption read: [No matter how much time passes, my heart will always choose you first.] I didn’t feel the soul-crushing grief or the fiery rage I expected. I only felt a profound sense of relief. My heart, which had spent five years sprinting to keep up with his, could finally beat for itself. I looked at the nightstand. Sitting next to my water cup was a first-class ticket for an overseas flight. “Let’s go,” I whispered. Jess helped me out of the hospital bed. We took a private car straight to the international terminal. Right before I stepped into the security checkpoint, a text from Nolan popped up on my screen. [Why aren’t you in your hospital room? Stop running around. I hired a private specialist to give you a full-body scan.] Staring at the message, I felt absolutely none of the pathetic, desperate joy I used to feel whenever he showed me a breadcrumb of attention. I smiled, hit block, and permanently deleted his contact. I popped the SIM card out of my phone and tossed it into a trash can. I had already set up a new international number. Nolan Cross. I am so incredibly tired of playing your twisted game of cat and mouse. From this moment on, I will never haunt your world again. Nolan gripped his phone, pacing the hallway outside Avery’s hospital room. He had been waiting for twenty minutes, but she hadn’t replied. In the past, the moment he sent a text checking up on her, she would immediately call him back, her voice thick with happy tears. Even when she was buried in script readings, she made her assistant reply instantly. But ever since that disastrous casting call, the dynamic had subtly shifted. It planted a dark, unsettling seed of panic in the pit of his stomach. Someone gently tapped his shoulder. He spun around, assuming it was Avery. “Where the hell did you go? Stop running…” The spark of relief in his chest instantly flatlined when he saw Serena standing there. A heavy, unexplainable wave of disappointment washed over him. “What are you doing here? I told you to stay in your suite and rest. The lobby is swarming with paparazzi and stalkers, what if they get a photo of you?” Serena’s eyes grew glassy with tears. “It’s fine. I wasn’t really hurt anyway. I just felt so alone in that big room… and I wanted to check on Avery. I need to apologize to her. If I hadn’t cried out for you, she wouldn’t have been crushed by that chandelier.” Nolan’s immediate instinct was to say Avery was fine. She was built tough. During action sequences, she refused to use stunt doubles to save the studio money. She took hits, cuts, and bruises without ever complaining. To the rest of the world, she was made of iron. But whenever she was alone with him, she would pout and show him her bruises. Even when he gave her the cold shoulder, she would whine until he was forced to pat her head and comfort her.

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The gala for my father’s seventieth birthday had just wound down. Deep in the night, my phone buzzed frantically. It was my husband, Mark. His voice crackled with panic on the other end. “Max, something terrible has happened! Our lead investor just skipped town with all the money. I have to get out of the country, lie low for a while. Don’t, under any circumstances, try to contact me!” In an instant, every trace of sleep vanished. I forced my voice to remain calm, telling him to be safe. The moment I hung up, I didn’t hesitate. I called the bank’s 24-hour hotline and froze every single card and account under my husband’s name. The irony was almost funny. The so-called “lead investor” who had supposedly vanished with our fortune was, at that very moment, passed out drunk in the room next to mine. He was my father. And I was very, very curious to see just how long he and my husband planned to keep up this elaborate “bankruptcy” charade. 1 I booked the first flight I could. When I arrived at the luxury resort he was supposedly hiding out in, I found him at the entrance of a grand ballroom. He was dressed in a sharp tuxedo, and on his arm was my close friend, Jessica, glowing in a white wedding gown. They were greeting guests. His eyes widened in panic when he saw me. He stumbled down the steps, rushing towards me. “Max, let me explain. Jessica’s father is critically ill. His dying wish is to see her married.” He grabbed my arm, his voice a desperate whisper. “I’m just acting, that’s all. It’s just a performance for her dad.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I yanked my arm free and slapped him hard across the face. “A performance?” I spat, my voice dripping with ice. “Should I chip in for a wedding gift, then? Help you really sell it?” The surrounding guests were already starting to whisper and point. Jessica, seeing the commotion, flushed with a mixture of shame and anger. Then, as if on cue, tears welled in her eyes, expertly casting her as the victim and me as the intruder. “Miss Aston,” she began, her voice trembling beautifully, “I know you’ve always been obsessed with Mark, to the point of developing… delusions. I feel for you, I truly do. But this is my wedding day. Please, don’t be so aggressive. You can’t force someone to love you.” Mark nodded, playing along. “Whatever you have to say, we can talk about it at home after the ceremony. Be good, Max. Don’t make a scene.” Even now, all he could think about was continuing with this sham of a wedding. I laughed, a harsh, grating sound. My eyes scanned Jessica, and then I saw it, glittering around her neck. It was my necklace. A one-of-a-kind emerald piece worth ten million dollars. The very one I had reported stolen months ago. “No wonder you were paying her a fifty-thousand-dollar-a-month salary,” I seethed, the pieces clicking into place with sickening clarity. “You two have been screwing around behind my back for God knows how long!” “And my designer bags, my jewelry that went ‘missing’… you stole them all for her, didn’t you?” I raked my gaze over Jessica with contempt. “One of you steals, the other one wears it. You’re a match made in hell, you pair of scumbags.” The crowd erupted in a mix of gasps and laughter, phones already out and recording. Jessica stomped her foot, her face a mask of fury. She fumbled in her purse and triumphantly produced a marriage certificate, shoving it in my face. “Open your eyes and look! Mark and I are legally married!” she shrieked, pointing a trembling finger at me, high on her momentary victory. “She’s sick in the head! She throws herself at any man who looks her way. My husband is just her latest obsession!” The crowd’s murmurs shifted. A few men started looking me up and down with leering eyes, one of them letting out a low whistle. “Hey, baby, you that desperate? The guy’s married. My room’s just upstairs if you need to scratch an itch…” One of them was bold enough to reach for my arm. I snatched a wine bottle from a nearby table and brandished it, making him recoil. I pointed the jagged neck of the bottle at Mark, my voice low and dangerous. “I’m giving you one last chance. Me, or her. Who is your wife?” Mark’s gaze flickered, and his next words plunged a shard of ice into my heart. “My only wife is Jessica,” he said, his voice cold and final. “Now, you’re going to apologize to her, or so help me, I will have you committed.” Jessica clung to Mark’s arm, her face a picture of tearful gratitude, and shot me a look of pure triumph. “Darling, don’t waste your breath on a psycho. She’s not worth it.” Looking at their disgusting, triumphant faces, something inside me snapped. I raised the bottle, ready to bring it crashing down on them both. If I was going to hell, I was dragging them with me. But Mark was faster. He kicked out, not at the bottle, but at me. As I stumbled, he lunged forward, stomping on the back of my hand with all his weight. His eyes were filled with a chilling malice. “Jessica is my life,” he snarled. “You hurt her, and I’ll make you pay a hundred times over.” A sickening crack echoed in the ballroom. A dull, throbbing agony shot up my arm, stealing my breath. Cold sweat beaded on my forehead. Jessica, ever the actress, rushed to his side, tugging on his arm. “Mark, stop! It’s our wedding day. If something bad happens, it’ll be a terrible omen. Just… just make her kneel and apologize. That’s enough.” Mark nodded, his tone dripping with magnanimous condescension. “You hear that? Get on your knees and apologize. Do it now, or you’re going straight to an asylum.” The loathing in his eyes was a physical blow. My heart felt like it had turned to stone. This was the man I’d given my youth to. My first love. Seven years. Our seven years of history were nothing against the test of time. I fumbled for my phone, my fingers clumsy and shaking. I opened my photo gallery and pulled up a picture of our marriage license, and a photo from our wedding day. “This is proof we’re married,” I announced, my voice trembling with rage. “I’m reporting you for bigamy!” In this country, bigamy was a serious crime. Prison time. The crowd’s murmuring turned suspicious, their eyes darting between Mark and Jessica. “That certificate she’s showing is dated seven years ago. Were they lying?” “If he’s married to both, that’s a felony! He should be locked up!” Jessica just smirked at me, a cruel, triumphant gleam in her eyes. She leaned in close, her voice a venomous whisper. “You still don’t get it, do you? Your marriage certificate with Mark… it’s a fake.” “He promised me he would only ever truly love me. You were never worthy of legally being his wife.” For a moment, the world went silent. Then, a tidal wave of pure, unadulterated fury surged through me. My entire seven-year marriage, my devotion, my sacrifices… it was all a joke. I started to laugh, a broken, hysterical sound that quickly turned into sobs of despair. I stared at her, my vision blurred with tears of hatred. I raised my good hand, not even sure what I intended to do, but before I could touch her, she let out a piercing shriek and threw herself backward onto the marble floor. She clutched her stomach, her face contorted in agony. “Mark! My stomach… the baby… our baby!” Before I could even process the word “baby,” a brutal slap sent my head snapping to the side. My ears rang, and the coppery taste of blood filled my mouth. Mark scooped Jessica into his arms, his eyes burning with a hatred so intense it scorched me. “Jessica is pregnant with my child,” he roared. “If anything happens to that baby, I swear to God, I’ll make you pay with your life!” I tried to speak, but only a bitter taste coated my tongue. He was the one who said he never wanted kids. A DINK—double income, no kids—lifestyle, that’s what he’d preached. A child would only get in the way of “our life together.” I’d believed him. Now I understood. It wasn’t that he didn’t want a child. He just didn’t want a child with me. Jessica let out a panicked cry. “Get me to a hospital! Please, I think I’m losing the baby!” Without a second glance at me, Mark turned and ran, carrying his precious cargo out of the ballroom. The world tilted, and darkness swallowed me whole. When I woke up, the sterile white ceiling of a hospital room greeted me. An IV was taped to my arm, but it wasn’t dripping fluid in. It was drawing blood out. I tried to struggle, to sit up, but my body felt like lead. Mark appeared at my bedside, looking down at my pathetic state with cold, detached eyes. “Jessica’s losing a lot of blood,” he said flatly. “She needs a transfusion, and you’re a match. Consider it your way of atoning for what you did.” A surge of adrenaline-fueled rage shot through me. “I didn’t push her!” I screamed, my voice raw. His hand clamped around my throat, squeezing. “I have waited seven years for this child,” he hissed, his face inches from mine. “I will not allow anything to happen to Jessica or my baby. If they don’t make it, I will burn you to ashes and scatter them to the wind.” He held on until spots danced in my vision, then released me. I fell back against the pillow, gasping for air, overwhelmed by a suffocating sense of helplessness. The blood loss made me dizzy, and I drifted into a groggy sleep. I was pulled back to consciousness by the sound of a voice. I cracked my eyes open to see Jessica on the phone, her back to me. “Yes, everything is arranged with the asylum,” she was saying. “The moment Max Wynton is stable, she’s to be transferred. I want her locked away for the rest of her miserable life.” She noticed I was awake, ended the call, and walked over to my bed with a smirk. She poured a glass of water from the carafe on the nightstand. And then, she tipped it, sending a stream of scalding hot water onto my arm. “This is what you get for crossing me,” she sneered. I cried out, my body convulsing from the searing pain. I bit my lip until it bled, glaring at her through a haze of agony. “You faked it all,” I rasped. “The fall, the miscarriage…” She laughed, a loud, ugly sound. “And what if I did? Mark only believes what I tell him.” She placed a hand on her flat stomach, a cruel smile playing on her lips. “My baby could have been perfectly healthy. Such a shame I had that ‘accidental’ fall a few weeks ago that took care of it. Mark was so excited about being a father… I just had to find someone to blame, didn’t I?” I trembled with a rage so profound it felt like it would tear me apart. “You’re a monster.” Her smile widened. “And once you’re gone, all your assets will become mine.” A cold dread washed over me. She wasn’t just planning to lock me away. She was planning to make sure I never left this hospital alive. Using every last ounce of strength I possessed, I ripped the IV from my arm, scrambled out of bed, and shoved her aside. I had to escape. But my body betrayed me. I was too weak. After only a few steps, my legs gave out and I collapsed in the hallway. Jessica followed at a leisurely pace, giving my side a contemptuous kick. Seeing that I couldn’t even get up, she laughed. “Go on, run. I thought you were so tough.” Her eyes glinted with a sadistic light. “You know, just getting rid of you would be too boring. Let’s play a little game.” “I hear there’s a derelict part of town not too far from here. Full of… desperate men. How about we drop you off there?” I recoiled in horror, scrambling backward. “You can’t do this. My father is—” Before I could finish, she grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back and slapping me twice, hard. “Your family? A bunch of ungrateful leeches!” she spat. “Every time Mark brought them gifts, they looked down on him. If it weren’t for Mark supporting your family all these years, do you think you could have lived the life of a wealthy housewife?” My heart sank. The lie was so audacious it was almost brilliant. Mark was a broke nobody when I met him. I used my own savings to fund his first start-up. My family never approved of him, which is why he barely had any contact with them. The few times he did visit, he brought a cheap basket of fruit. And “supporting” them was a joke. Without my father secretly investing millions into his company, he never would have gone public in seven years. Her bodyguards dragged me out of the hospital and threw me into a car. We drove to the city’s dark, forgotten underbelly and they dumped me in a filthy alley. She pulled out her phone and addressed the group of gaunt, hollow-eyed men who were already gathering, drawn by the commotion. “Whoever shows her the best time,” she announced, her voice echoing in the grimy space, “gets half a million dollars.” Instantly, four or five of them closed in, a predatory hunger in their eyes that made my stomach churn. I grabbed a loose brick, ready to defend myself. “You will regret this!” I screamed at her. She was unfazed. She even started a video call with Mark. My terrified, dishevelled image on the screen made him roar with laughter. “Jessica, you’re too soft,” his voice tinny through the phone’s speaker. “She killed our baby. She should be rotting in a prison cell.” Jessica sighed dramatically. “But she was with you for a time, Mark. I want to build up some good karma for our future children. She’s just so stubborn. If she had just knelt and begged for forgiveness, I wouldn’t have had to do this.” Mark scoffed. “She’s a vindictive bitch. I’ve had enough of her. You know, Jessica, we’ll have to redo our wedding, but I promise you, this time, it will be the most extrMaxgant event this city has ever seen.” They talked as if I wasn’t even there, as if my life wasn’t about to be destroyed. Any last flicker of hope I had for the man I once loved died in that filthy alley. After hanging up, Jessica turned to the vagrants. “What are you waiting for? Get to it! If you don’t, you won’t see a single penny!” With a primal scream, I surged forward, crashing into Jessica and knocking her to the ground. I threw all my weight on top of her, my hands finding her throat and squeezing. “If I die, I’m taking you with me!” I shrieked. For the first time, I saw real fear in her eyes. She clawed at my hands, choking and gasping for help. Suddenly, Mark’s furious roar cut through the air. “Max, you’re dead!” He must have rushed over after the call. He snatched a heavy rock from the ground and brought it down on the back of my head. The world exploded in a flash of white-hot pain as he kicked me off of Jessica. It took a long moment for my vision to clear. When it did, I saw Mark glaring at me with pure, unadulterated hatred. “It wasn’t enough for you to kill our child, you had to try and kill her too,” he seethed. “This time, I won’t be lenient.” He barked an order at his bodyguards. “Go get more of them. And call the local news stations. Tell them we’ve got a scoop. By the end of today, Max Wynton’s name will be synonymous with filth!” Ignoring the blinding pain in my head, I tried to crawl away, to escape, but the bodyguards were on me in a second. They dragged me back, forcing me to my knees in front of Mark and Jessica. Mark fussed over Jessica, gently brushing dust from her dress with a sanitized wipe, his touch full of tenderness. He wouldn’t even look at me. “Don’t worry, my love,” he murmured to her. “I’ll get your revenge for you right now.” Jessica, her eyes brimming with tears, clutched his hand and shook her head weakly. “I don’t blame her. As long as I can be with you, I’ll endure any hardship.” I spat at her feet. “How many men have you pulled that routine on? How many backup plans do you have lined up after Mark?” I’d seen her getting cozy with other men at his office before; I’d just been too blind and trusting to see it for what it was. Her act shattered. The tears became real, streaming down her face in angry torrents. “Mark, she’s humiliating me! I can’t live like this!” she wailed, turning as if to smash her head against the nearby brick wall. Mark caught her, holding her tight, his face a thundercloud of fury directed at me. “I’ve been too good to you,” he snarled. “You can live out the rest of your pathetic life in this gutter.” He gestured to his men. “Break her arms and legs.” Panic seized me. I thrashed against their grip. “Mark, you’ll pay for this! As long as there is breath in my body, I will never let you get away with this!” He let out a cold, dismissive laugh. “Oh, I’m waiting. I remember that old college flame of yours, the one who’s still single, waiting for you. I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he sees the video of the great campus beauty, Max Wynton, begging for mercy under a pile of hobos. He probably won’t be able to eat for a week.” I couldn’t believe it. To appease Jessica, he was willing to utterly and completely destroy me. My joints were brutally dislocated. The physical agony was immense, but it was nothing compared to the searing pain in my soul. Tears streamed down my face, hitting the grimy pavement as memories of our seven years together flashed through my mind. The sweeter the memory, the more bitter the irony now. I was a broken puppet, paralyzed on the ground, my eyes locked on Mark, burning with a helpless, venomous rage. He held Jessica, gazing down at my ruined form as if I were an insect. The circle of men closed in, the stench of unwashed bodies and cheap liquor overwhelming me. Their greedy, lecherous stares made me want to vomit. My tears of terror only seemed to excite them more. Jessica burrowed into Mark’s chest, her voice a sickly sweet murmur. “Mark, I can’t watch. It’s too scary.” He covered her eyes with his hand, his voice a gentle caress. “I’ll watch for you, my love. I’ll watch her get the punishment she deserves. She could never compare to you, to your purity and kindness.” My heart shattered into a million pieces. I gritted my teeth, trying to writhe away like a worm, to escape their grasping hands. But they cornered me, my back against the cold, damp brick wall. There was nowhere left to run. As they lunged, I squeezed my eyes shut. I’d rather die than suffer this humiliation. I was about to bite down on my own tongue, to end it all, when the piercing wail of sirens sliced through the night. Seven, eight police cruisers swarmed the alley, their lights painting the scene in strobing flashes of red and blue. In the middle of them all, a black Rolls-Royce, the kind that whispers of old money and untouchable power, glided to a silent stop.

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1 At thirty-five, I was a financial wreck, living paycheck to paycheck and blowing each one on trendy restaurants or concert tickets within days. After five years, I had no savings. When I got sick, I could not afford treatment. I died in a hospital bed, full of regret. Reborn, I vowed to save. But as soon as my salary arrived, the urge to spend took over. I turned to credit cards, and only when I faced a twenty five thousand dollar statement did I realize I needed someone to manage my money. But who would take on such a job? My best friend mentioned her cousin Simon, and a light went on. Simon was a finance director famous for his frugality. He split bills to the soda, kept hotel toiletries, and sold raffle prizes the same night. At thirty-five, he was still single. His penny pinching scared everyone away. I put down my bubble tea, a plan forming. A meticulous finance director obsessed with saving. He was the personal money manager I had been searching for. He was exactly what I needed. My best friend thought I’d lost my mind. “What do you even see in him?” she asked, bewildered. “Are you excited for him to take you on dates to Taco Bell? Or to make you go Dutch on everything?” “You don’t get it,” I said, my eyes gleaming. “I need someone to control my spending. I just can’t do it myself.” She sat across from me, frowning. “Then find a normal guy! Simon has a problem! It’s like a compulsion!” I just grinned. “Isn’t that perfect? I’m a spender, he’s a saver. We’ll balance each other out.” She rolled her eyes. “You two get together, and I guarantee he’ll be logging the cost of your morning bagel into a spreadsheet. You know that, right?” I took a long sip of my tea and nodded enthusiastically. “I know. That’s why I need him.” When my parents found out, their reaction was even stronger. “Simon? You mean the guy who’s so cheap he made the local news?” My mother nearly fainted. “Chloe, sweetie, you’re already so extravagant. If you get with a guy like that, you’ll be fighting every single day!” My dad had a slightly different take. “Being responsible with money is a good thing,” he mused, “but he does take it to an extreme.” I wrapped my arms around my mom, trying to win her over. “Mom, think about how much money I’ve wasted over the years. I need someone who can keep me in check.” “But not a complete Scrooge!” she lamented, sinking into the sofa in despair. I ignored their protests and had my friend set up a dinner for me and Simon. For our first meeting, I chose a budget-friendly diner—about twenty dollars a person. Simon was even more handsome than I’d expected: tall, slim, with sharp features behind a pair of glasses. He wore a faded navy-blue sweater. The first thing he did after sitting down was pull out his phone and open the calculator app. “This place averages twenty dollars a head, according to Yelp,” he stated. “The most recommended dishes are the spicy fish and the sweet and sour pork. For two of us, two entrees and a soup should be plenty. We can keep the total under fifty. Does that work for you?” I was stunned for a second. Not because he was being cheap, but because… it was such a relief. He had no idea how much anxiety a menu usually gave me. I always wanted to order everything, but my budget was limited, and I almost always overspent. Now, here was someone who had done all the math for me, right down to the final total. I didn’t have to think at all. I nodded shyly. “Okay. I trust your judgment.” After dinner, he walked me home. Standing at the entrance to my apartment building, I took a deep breath. “Simon,” I said, my courage wavering. “I’d like to try… with you.” He pushed his glasses up his nose. “Try what?” My face grew hot. “Dating.” Simon was silent for three full seconds. Then he spoke. “I’m open to that. But first, we need to sign a financial agreement.” I thought he was joking. He wasn’t. The next day, he emailed me a “Relationship Financial Management Agreement.” It stipulated that both parties would cover their own daily expenses, and all shared costs would be split 50/50. Each month, both parties were required to save no less than 30% of their income, with proof of savings subject to mutual review. Any non-essential purchase over fifty dollars required prior notification and justification. Neither party was to give the other gifts exceeding one hundred dollars, with a holiday gift budget capped at fifty dollars. If either party violated these terms, they would be required to pay the other 200% of the difference as a penalty. I stared at the document for a full ten minutes. Then, I burst out laughing. This man was completely serious. He wasn’t trying to take advantage of me. He just wanted to manage my money. 2 On our first official day of dating, Simon took over my finances. He had me show him everything: all my bills, my credit card statements, my payment apps. After reviewing them, he was silent for a full minute. “Chloe.” I couldn’t bring myself to look up. Twenty-five thousand dollars in debt was, admittedly, a bit beyond my ability to repay. His voice rose, but he didn’t mention the debt. Instead, he pointed at my order history. “You spent over a hundred and fifty dollars on bubble tea last month?” “I think so…” I wished the floor would swallow me whole. “One a day?” he asked, and I could hear him gritting his teeth. I mumbled, “Sometimes two.” He took a deep breath and scribbled a line in his notebook: “Bubble tea: limited to two per week, maximum four dollars per cup.” I scrambled over, trying to snatch the notebook away. “You might as well just kill me.” Simon held the notebook out of my reach, looking down at me. “You spend a hundred and fifty a month on tea. That’s nearly two thousand a year. If you saved that money, in three years you’d have enough for a down payment on a small condo.” My mouth fell open, but no words came out. He was right. In the weeks that followed, I learned what true budgeting really meant. He helped me cancel two streaming subscriptions I never used. He turned off the auto-renew feature on all three of my food delivery apps. He disabled push notifications for every shopping app on my phone. He even created a new lunch plan for me. The company cafeteria offered a meat and two-veg special for five dollars. It was healthy and cheap. I’d always found the cafeteria food disgusting and had never once eaten there. He joined me for lunch every day for a week, and I had to admit, it wasn’t half bad. In the first month, my spending dropped by a thousand dollars compared to the month before. I stared at the positive balance in my bank account—a first for me—and my eyes welled up. This time, I finally had money. This time, I wouldn’t die in a hospital bed because I was broke. The next day, I went for a full medical check-up. The results came back perfect. To celebrate, I treated myself to a spicy noodle soup that night. But after just a few bites, I was hit with a violent bout of food poisoning. My fever shot up to 102. By the middle of the night, I couldn’t take it anymore. I called Simon. He was at my door in twenty minutes. The first thing he did wasn’t ask how I was. He glanced at my takeout history on my phone. “What did you eat tonight?” I clutched my stomach, a cold sweat breaking over my body. “Spicy noodle soup…” Simon shoved the phone in front of my face, his expression grim. “Again? You just had that last Friday. I told you, you need to cut back on that stuff. It’s unhealthy and it’s not cost-effective.” I was delirious with fever, and hearing him talk about cost-effectiveness sent a surge of anger through me. “Simon, I’m dying here, and you’re still talking about money?” His tone was calm, almost clinical. “I’m not talking about money. I’m helping you analyze the cost-benefit. If you go to the ER now, the visit will be at least five hundred dollars. Do you even have that in your health savings account?” I turned my head away, refusing to answer. After a minute, I heard him sigh. “Fine. I’ll take you to the hospital.” I slapped his hand away. “I’m not going! All you care about is money!” Simon stood frozen, his eyes turning a little red. “Chloe, if I only cared about money, I wouldn’t have a taxi waiting downstairs with the meter running.” I blinked. Peeking out the window, I saw the flashing hazard lights of a cab parked by the curb. “Let’s go,” he said, reaching for my hand again. This time, I didn’t pull away. 3 At the hospital, he was a whirlwind of efficiency—registering, paying, picking up prescriptions. I sat in a chair in the treatment room, an IV drip in my arm. By three in the morning, my fever had broken and my head was clear. I watched him dozing in the uncomfortable plastic chair beside me, and a wave of guilt washed over me. “Simon.” “Hmm?” He opened his eyes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you earlier.” “It’s okay.” He paused. “But I still have to say it: that noodle soup was not a good value. Ten dollars for a meal that makes you sick. The hospital visit cost over five hundred dollars. Your total cost for that one meal was nearly six hundred. That’s enough to cover our cafeteria lunches for half a month.” I looked at his dead-serious expression and didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Can’t you just be a little concerned about my health?” Simon reached out and felt my forehead. “Your health is fine now. But your spending habits are not. If you don’t change them, this will happen again.” He pulled a thermos from his bag and handed it to me. “Drink some warm water. The IV will make your hands cold.” I took the thermos, and the last bit of my irritation melted away. This was just his way of caring for me. A year passed just like that. For our first anniversary, I decided to buy Simon a new phone. He’d been using the same one for five years; the screen was so cracked he’d put tape over it to hold it together. While he was in the shower, I took his old phone to transfer the data. That’s when I saw it: a transfer record for two thousand dollars. Two thousand? I froze. Simon’s total monthly expenses were never more than a few hundred dollars. Where did this transfer come from? I glanced towards the bathroom but decided not to ask him yet. I put the old phone back where I found it and said nothing about the new one. But over the next few days, I started paying attention. I discovered a recurring transfer every month. The amounts varied—sometimes a thousand, sometimes fifteen hundred, but the two-thousand-dollar one was the largest. The recipient was always the same account. What was stranger was that after every transfer, he would delete the confirmation text from the bank. He was hiding something from me. My mind started racing. Did someone in his family need money for medical bills? But he’d never mentioned anything. Was he seeing another woman? The thought made my stomach twist into a knot. But no, that didn’t make sense. Simon wouldn’t even splurge on a movie ticket for our dates. How could he possibly afford to support another woman? What was it, then? I wracked my brain until one possibility emerged. Was he paying back an ex-girlfriend? I remembered my friend telling me that when he and his last girlfriend broke up, he’d given her an itemized list of shared expenses. Maybe she was turning the tables on him? All these theories battled in my head, keeping me up for nights. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. We were eating at a cheap food stall one evening when I just came out with it. “Simon, who are you sending money to every month?” The hand holding his chopsticks froze mid-air. “You went through my phone?” I shook my head, fighting the lump in my throat. “I’m willing to live this frugal life with you, but are you giving all our money to some other woman?”

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During an experiment in the quantum computing lab, the graduate student I was mentoring suddenly asked me, “Professor, do you know the saying, ‘From chaos, duality’?” I set down the equipment I was holding, but before I could answer, she let her lab coat slip from her shoulders, followed by everything else. She guided my hand to the warmth between her legs. Her captivating eyes locked onto mine. “From chaos, duality,” she whispered. “From duality, unity.” “The highest form of purity is also the highest form of debauchery.” That night, my restraint finally broke. 1 My wife’s beauty had long since faded, and my life was consumed by my work. It had been a long time since I’d felt such a release. Afterward, I rested my hand on Isabelle’s waist. “What do you want?” I asked. Her eyes were fixed on the ceiling, strangely vacant. “Someone once said that for kids from towns like mine, the most powerful person we’ll ever meet is our university advisor.” “I refused to believe that was my limit. I sent my resume to company after company. They’d grant me an interview out of respect for you, but the questions were always about you. Once they realized our relationship was purely professional, the offers would vanish into thin air. I haven’t received a single one.” “Professor,” she said, her voice hardening, “I want a position at Elysian Dynamics. I’ve given you the most valuable thing I have to trade for it.” She added, almost as an afterthought, “It was my first time.” In the dim, hazy light, I studied her. She was undeniably beautiful; otherwise, she never could have tempted me to cross this line. Her face was a portrait of conflict: one half pained innocence, the other half ruthless ambition. I dressed and, before leaving, told her, “You’ll get what you want. The offer from Elysian will be in your inbox tomorrow.” My reputation in the field is formidable. A word from me was all it took. After I made the call, I found my wife staring at me. Her expression was placid, but her words were like needles. “You’ve never involved yourself in student placements before.” “What’s different today?” “Is there something special about this student? I think I saw her once, at that university gala.” “She’s very beautiful. It makes sense you’d take such an interest. I just…” “That’s enough.” I cut her off before she could finish. “She’s from a poor background. Life is harder for kids like her. Besides, her academic record is exceptional. I’m just giving her a hand up. Is there a problem with that?” My wife, Connie, looked at me, stunned. I rarely used such a sharp tone with her. But tonight, for some reason, the sight of her sagging cheeks and her shocked expression filled me with an intense irritation. My mind involuntarily flashed back to Isabelle’s smooth, pale skin, and the flicker of panic in her eyes as I entered her. I couldn’t stop myself. I went to see Isabelle again. She smoothed her hair, her voice unnervingly calm. “Professor, a one-time transaction can be born of desperation. But to continue… that would make me no better than a prostitute.” She bowed deeply. “Professor, despite what happened, I still believe you are a man of principle. You wouldn’t force me if I wasn’t willing, would you?” After she left, I sat there, rubbing the rim of a paper cup. She was right. I wouldn’t force her. But there were other ways to make her willing. Isabelle was gambling on my character. I was gambling on her breaking point. Isabelle’s new job at Elysian quickly became a nightmare. She was hitting roadblocks at every turn. It was my doing, of course. I hadn’t needed to say much. Just a single, casual comment to a senior executive: “That student of mine, Isabelle… I don’t know what’s gotten into her. She’s become rather difficult lately. I suppose a big offer from a company like yours has gone to her head.” We were all seasoned players. The executives at Elysian understood immediately. They began applying pressure from all sides. I expected her to last a week, maybe less. To my surprise, two weeks passed, and she still hadn’t contacted me. A flicker of annoyance sparked within me. I had been a master puppeteer for years; this was the first time a string had gone slack in my hands. I called the executive and arranged a dinner meeting for that evening. Isabelle, naturally, was required to attend. Throughout the dinner, she played her part perfectly, smiling and making conversation as the wine flowed. But afterward, her face was etched with fatigue. “Professor,” she said, her voice low. “I didn’t think a man like you would resort to such petty, dirty tricks.” I cornered her by the restrooms, my hand moving to her blouse, undoing the buttons one by one. “Isabelle, there’s a beast I’ve kept caged inside me for a long time. You’re the one who unlocked the cage. Are you just going to walk away and leave it hungry now?” Just as the pale curve of her breast was about to be exposed, she clamped her hand over mine. Her eyes, when they met mine, were shockingly resolute. “Don’t push me, Professor. I told you, our transaction is over. Don’t try to use my job to threaten me. I may be an ant trying to shake a tree, but if I make our story public… even if no one believes me, even if I have no evidence… it would still damage your reputation, wouldn’t it?” Her voice was cold and steady. “You value your reputation above all else. You wouldn’t want to tarnish it, would you?” She then proceeded to button her blouse, her gaze never wavering from mine. I let out a soft, sharp laugh. To kill a snake, you strike it where it’s most vulnerable. I had been too hasty. I had someone look into her background. I needed to understand this sudden, fierce resistance. Once you take the easy road, it’s hard to go back to walking the hard path. The report arrived on my phone that afternoon. It turned out Isabelle’s fiancé had come to the city to be with her. Interesting. According to the file, he had paid for her entire education, from her undergraduate degree through her master’s, with his own labor. They had planned to get married in a month. I sighed, zooming in on a photo of the two of them on my phone. Her fiancé—a man named Rocco—looked like he’d just finished a shift on a construction site, covered in grime. But Isabelle was kneeling beside him, holding a lunchbox, looking at him with a smile of pure adoration. True love… If it was true love, then why did she climb into my bed? Another hypocrite, tainted like the rest. After some thought, I made a call to a friend in real estate. The very next day, Isabelle was in my office. “Professor… was it you?” I feigned ignorance. “What are you talking about?” She took a deep breath. “My fiancé… he doesn’t have the connections. No one would just hand him a major construction contract out of the blue. I don’t believe in miracles. So, what is your price?” I gestured behind her. She turned her head. Through the one-way glass of my office wall, she could see Rocco in the hallway, his face alight with a joyous, triumphant smile. I felt her entire body begin to tremble. I stepped closer, putting my arms around her. “Don’t be afraid. He can’t see in. But look at him… look how happy he is. Do you have the heart to shatter that beautiful dream of his?” As she watched him, I pressed her against the cold glass and slipped my hand beneath her blouse. Once you’ve tasted something, you develop a craving. I was beginning to realize I was becoming obsessed with her. The first person to notice my change was my wife. She confronted me, holding up one of my shirts, a smear of lipstick on the collar. “Alistair,” she pleaded, “this was a mistake, wasn’t it?” I could see the desperation in her eyes. She was begging me to lie. How pointless. To come looking for an answer you already know, hoping I’ll tell you what you want to hear. I took the shirt from her calmly. “No, Connie. It’s exactly what it looks like. I’m having an affair.” She began to shake. “But… why?” Why? My mind drifted back to a suffocating summer afternoon decades ago. I was just a junior lecturer back then, a boy from a small town who had clawed his way to the big city. I was called a genius back home, but here, I was just one among many. I had neither top-tier talent nor powerful connections. Advancement seemed impossible. The day before my tenure review, when I had finally understood the unwritten rules of the world and was on the verge of despair, Connie told me she had to work late. The Dean, however, had told me to wait for him in the office next to his. He had something to discuss with me. I assumed he wanted a bribe for the promotion, a bribe I couldn’t afford. But I didn’t wait long.

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1 After the breakup, my feelings became tradable commodities. A single dose of heartbreak could sell for ten thousand dollars. A flare of anger was worth five grand. I fast-tracked my way to financial freedom entirely on the back of getting dumped. Just as I was about to bundle up ten pounds of sorrow to sell to the system, my ex-boyfriend suddenly showed up. He cornered me against a brick wall, his eyes bloodshot, his voice trembling. “Why aren’t you sad anymore? Did you ever even love me?” I looked right past his face. Hovering above his head was a massive, glittering orb of affection, easily worth a cool million. Without a second thought, I reached out and grabbed it. Sold! … On the first day after Carter and I broke up, I locked myself in my room and cried until I was severely dehydrated. Three years together. From cramped college dorms to the ruthless corporate world, I really thought we were going to make it to the altar. Reality handed me a brutal slap in the face. Carter’s family company hit a massive financial crisis. To save it, he chose another girl, someone who could offer him the perfect corporate marriage of convenience. That girl was Valerie. His childhood neighbor and our mutual friend. On the day we split, Carter couldn’t even look me in the eye. Guilt dripped from his every word. “Stella, I’m so sorry. I don’t have a choice. This company is my dad’s entire life’s work. I can’t just stand by and watch it go under.” I stared at him, finding the whole thing incredibly absurd. “So your solution is to throw away everything we built just to buy a bailout with a wedding ring?” He stayed silent. When I dragged my suitcase out of the cozy little apartment we had shared, all those sweet memories we made suddenly morphed into jagged shards of glass, slicing my heart to ribbons with every step I took. I barely made it back to my cheap, rundown rental before I completely broke down. Just as I thought the suffocating grief was literally going to kill me, a mechanical, synthesized voice echoed inside my skull. [Severe emotional fluctuation detected. Emotion Trading System officially activated.] [Host, would you like to sell your ‘Heartbreak’?] I froze. I honestly thought the crying had finally short-circuited my brain. “Who is that? Who’s talking?” [I am Emotion Trading System 007. My primary function is helping the Host convert useless emotions into immense wealth. I have detected a premium-grade ‘Heartbreak’ currently in your possession. Estimated market value: $10,000. Would you like to sell?] Ten thousand dollars? The number hit me like a freight train. Since when did a broken heart pay out in cash? I tested the waters, asking in my mind: “How do I do it?” [Please confirm by selecting ‘Yes’ or ‘No’.] Well, I was already at rock bottom. Could things get any worse? “Yes!” I screamed in my head, clenching my jaw. In the very next second, the tearing, agonizing pain in my chest receded like a pulling tide. My heart still felt hollow, but the suffocating torture was completely gone. Right on cue, my phone buzzed. A banking notification popped up on the screen. [City Bank: A deposit of $10,000.00 was made to your account ending in 4592 on October 25. Current balance: $10,521.34.] Before I could even celebrate, another line of tiny text flashed across my vision. [System Warning: High-energy emotional trade detected. Market regulation protocols have been triggered. Please regulate your trading behavior.] Regulation protocols? I didn’t care at all. I brushed it off as some standard terms of service nobody reads. I just kept staring at those digits on my phone screen, counting the zeros over and over to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating. It was real. This was actual money! A tidal wave of absolute ecstasy drowned out whatever lingering doubts I had. Who cares about the pain of a breakup? If it could be swapped for cold hard cash, that was the ultimate comfort! 2 To test the system’s limits, I started digging up every little memory Carter and I shared. From the first time he smiled at me on the college basketball court, to the nights he stayed up late just to queue for that limited-edition vinyl record I wanted, all the way to our early startup days when we practically lived on cheap ramen… The more I thought about it, the more a bitter, burning sensation bubbled up in my chest. Why should I be sitting here mourning our past while he gets to comfortably prep for a flashy engagement with another woman? Why did three years of loyalty mean absolutely nothing against a single corporate bankruptcy threat? [Medium-grade ‘Anger’ detected. Estimated market value: $5,000. Would you like to sell?] “Sell! Absolutely sell!” [City Bank: A deposit of $5,000.00 was made to your account…] That suffocating fury vanished into thin air. I actually wanted to laugh out loud. This felt incredibly surreal. All I had to do was flick a mental switch, dwell on some ancient history, and money literally deposited itself into my bank account. For the next few days, I became obsessed with my new career as an emotion trafficker. I scrolled through our old text threads, staring at his “Goodnight, my sweet girl” messages. Then I sold the ‘Sweet Nostalgia’ for two grand. I pulled up the photo gallery of him lifting me over his shoulders at a music festival. I sold the ‘Melancholic Longing’ for three grand. Eventually, I actively started looking for triggers. I clicked onto Valerie’s Instagram. She and Carter had officially announced their engagement. The photo showed Carter looking sharp in a tailored tuxedo, with Valerie draped in a custom white gown. The blinding sparkle of their diamond rings felt like a physical jab to my eyes. The comment section was flooded with congratulations, mostly from people in our shared friend circle. [Complex emotion ‘Jealousy and Resentment’ detected. Premium quality. Estimated market value: $15,000. Would you like to sell?] “Take it!” Watching my bank balance skyrocket, I realized for the very first time that getting dumped was the absolute best thing the universe could have done for me. In just one week, my pathetic savings skyrocketed into the six-figure range. The very first thing I did was pack my bags, ditch that depressing little rental, and sign a lease on a gorgeous luxury loft right in the heart of downtown. I went on a massive shopping spree, swiping my card for designer bags and clothes I used to only admire through storefront windows. I booked the most expensive spa treatments and soaked up top-tier luxury. But there was a catch. My emotions were drying up. When I opened up Valerie’s page to look at their couple selfies again, I felt absolutely nothing. A flatline. The system stayed dead silent. My emotional gold mine was completely tapped out. No, I had to manufacture some new feelings. I tried binging tragic romance movies and listening to indie sad-girl playlists, but the results were pathetic. Best case scenario, I squeezed out a few bucks worth of ‘Mild Melancholy’. Better than nothing, but hardly a living. Just as I started stressing over my future cash flow, the system dropped a new objective. [Milestone Task: Bulk Sale. Accumulate 10 pounds of ‘Sorrow’ for a packaged transaction. Price payout will be doubled.] Ten pounds of sorrow? Since when did feelings come with a weight limit? Still, double the payout sounded way too good to pass up. I went on the offensive. I called up my best friend Brooke, met her for coffee, and put on an Oscar-worthy performance. I tearfully unloaded all of Carter’s sins onto her, successfully harvesting a solid wave of ‘Grievance’ and ‘Self-Pity’. [Accumulating Sorrow. Current progress: 0.5 / 10 pounds.] It worked like a charm. I figured out that venting to an audience was the ultimate sorrow-production factory. For the next couple of days, I went on a systematic pity tour, visiting every sympathetic friend I knew and repeating my tragic sob story on a loop. My acting skills leveled up. I could summon tears on command and build a heartbreaking atmosphere out of thin air. Soon enough, my sorrow inventory hit nine and a half pounds. I was inches away from the finish line. I needed a grand finale. I picked the city park where Carter and I had our very first date to brew that final batch of misery and close the big deal. Sitting on a familiar green bench, I forced myself to visualize that exact afternoon. The sun had been perfect. Carter was wearing a crisp white button-down, blushing furiously as he nervously handed me a bouquet of roses. Just picturing his clumsy teenage smile actually brought a genuine, long-forgotten ache to my chest. [Accumulating Sorrow. Current progress: 9.8 / 10 pounds.] So close! I took a deep breath, ready to push out the last few tears. But right at that moment, a shadow fell over me. A familiar yet strangely foreign figure stood blocking my light. It was Carter. He looked like absolute garbage. Dark circles bruised his eyes, a rough shadow of stubble coated his jaw, and his insanely expensive suit looked like he had slept in it. He was staring at me, his eyes rimmed red. 3 My first reaction wasn’t shock. It was pure annoyance. What the hell was he doing here? He was interrupting my cash flow. I stood up, planning to just walk around him. Instead, his hand shot out and gripped my wrist. “Stella, please. We need to talk.” “What is there left to talk about?” I yanked my hand back with icy precision. “Mr. Sinclair, you are an engaged man. Messing around with your ex-girlfriend in a public park is a bad look. Aren’t you worried Valerie might get the wrong idea?” My words hit him like a physical blow. All the color drained from his face, and his voice visibly shook. “Why? Why aren’t you hurting at all?” He pointed a shaking finger at my brand-new designer coat. “You’re doing great, aren’t you? You upgraded your apartment, you bought a new car… Did you ever even care about me?” Looking at his dramatic breakdown, I found the whole thing incredibly hilarious. “I’m devastated, obviously.” I brushed a piece of lint off my sleeve. “I’m so devastated I managed to commodify my grief and achieve financial independence.” He clearly thought I was just throwing out sarcastic insults. “Stella, please don’t do this to me.” He took a heavy step forward, trapping me against the brick wall of the park’s pavilion. His tall frame completely boxed me in. “I’ve been losing my mind these past few days. I close my eyes and all I see is you. I know I’m a bastard. I know I picked the company over us. But I physically cannot stop thinking about you.” He sounded so raw, so agonizingly sincere. A tear actually slipped from his red eyes. If this were the old me, I probably would have caved instantly. But right now, he was just loud and annoying. And that was when I saw it. Hovering right above his head was a massive, blindingly bright, golden orb of pure energy. [Alert. Ultra-pure unowned emotion detected nearby: ‘Love’. Quality: Legendary. Estimated market value: $1,000,000.] [Severe Warning. Any unauthorized extraction of external emotions is a major violation and will trigger high-level regulatory intervention.] [Notice: This emotional energy is exceedingly massive. Direct absorption may cause system shock. Attempt capture anyway?] One million dollars? My eyes practically turned into dollar signs. Violation? Regulation? Those threatening words briefly flashed through my mind, only to be instantly vaporized by the blinding glow of that seven-figure payout. I had already triggered a warning once anyway. What was one more? Fortune favors the bold! Without a single drop of hesitation, I reached my hand up and grabbed that giant orb of ‘Love’ right off the top of his head. The second my fingertips breached the golden light, a surging, scalding wave of power rushed down my arm and flooded my veins. Carter’s entire body went rigid. The look in his eyes morphed instantly. All that agonizing, desperate affection evaporated, replaced entirely by a hollow, vacant void. It was as if I had violently ripped out his soul. Meanwhile, inside my head, the system alerts were screaming like air raid sirens. [WARNING! Ultra-high energy contraband emotion breach! System overload! Initiating forced upgrade sequence!] [Ding! ‘Legendary Love’ captured successfully. $1,000,000 deposited into system escrow. Funds will be available for withdrawal upon upgrade completion!] [System Upgrading: 1%… 10%… 50%…] Before I could even process the absolute chaos happening in my brain, Carter’s knees buckled. He collapsed forward, dead weight against my shoulder. I shoved him off me, scrambling to check his pulse. He was breathing. But the way he looked at me… it was like looking at a blank wall. Empty. Devoid of any recognizable human feeling. My stomach plummeted. I think I just went way too far. I didn’t just sell all my own sorrow. I literally ripped his love right out of his chest and pawned it.

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Twenty years ago, when I was completely over the moon thinking we were about to welcome a new life, my wife asked me to get a vasectomy. I agreed without a second thought. But shortly after the surgery, she told me she was pregnant. The news left me utterly bewildered, yet entirely overjoyed. Time flew by. Two decades later, at the company’s annual shareholder meeting, my wife suddenly announced she was transferring forty percent of her equity to our twin boys. In that moment, I noticed Tristan’s reaction. He looked even more ecstatic than I was. At the time, I just figured he was happy for us. It wasn’t until the meeting wrapped up and the two boys ran straight toward Tristan, sweetly calling him “Dad,” that the truth hit me like a freight train. I finally understood the reality behind that “accidental pregnancy” twenty years ago. 1 I stared at the two names on the equity transfer agreement. Asher and Blake. My knuckles turned white, joints aching from how hard I was gripping the paper. How did forty percent of the Sinclair Group end up under the names of two kids I had never even heard of? The secretary mentioned my wife had it notarized just last week. A loud, deafening ringing echoed in my ears. Ten years ago, my mother-in-law suddenly announced she was retiring to the French Riviera. It turned out she was just paving the way for these two boys. “Sylvia, what the hell is going on with these kids?” I slammed the agreement onto the dining table. The clatter of silver knives and forks made Sylvia flinch. She looked up at me, her eyes darting away instantly. “They are Tristan’s boys. I was a surrogate for him ten years ago.” A surrogate? A bitter, hollow laugh escaped my throat. Ten years ago, she packed her bags for Switzerland, claiming she was attending a six-month executive program. When she came back, her suitcase was stuffed with baby clothes. When I asked about it, she brushed it off, saying she was bringing them back for a friend. Now it all made sickening sense. There was no friend. She had given birth to them herself. “You told me you didn’t want kids. That’s the only reason I got the surgery.” My throat felt tight, choked with gravel. “All these years, when our parents pressured us, I took the fall. I let everyone think I was shooting blanks. I swallowed those shady, experimental fertility pills for five years until they gave me a bleeding ulcer. And you just played me like a fool?” Sylvia dropped her fork. Impatience laced her tone. “Tristan’s mother was on her deathbed. She begged me to leave their family an heir.” “I figured we wouldn’t have to raise them anyway, so I did IVF and came right back after they were born.” She stood up, reaching out to hug me. “Please don’t be mad. I just didn’t want you to suffer through a reversal surgery. Besides, the Sinclair empire is going to need heirs eventually…” I shoved her away. Back when the Sinclair Group was facing bankruptcy, I dragged myself through hell for her. I swallowed my pride, begged every investor in the city, and drank at business dinners until I was vomiting blood just to secure our first lifeline contract. She had cried in my arms, telling me she couldn’t survive without me. Now that the company was a titan, she handed over the shares to another man’s kids and spoke as if it were the most logical thing in the world. “Those annual overseas business trips you take… You’ve just been playing house with them, haven’t you?” I unlocked my phone and swiped to the photos my private investigator had sent. Pictures of her wearing an apron, feeding two little boys. Pictures of Tristan with his arm wrapped intimately around her shoulder, both of them beaming. “Even your mother knew. I was the only idiot kept in the dark.” All the color drained from her face. “Arthur, you hired someone to follow me?” I ignored her. In the photos, my mother-in-law was holding the boys, laughing so hard her eyes crinkled. It was a stark contrast to the cold, disgusted glares she gave me when she was forcing those fertility treatments down my throat. They had treated Tristan and his sons like real family for a decade. And I, the devoted husband who married into their wealth, was nothing more than a glorified corporate slave working to build their empire. 2 “Come on, Arthur. Sylvia did it for the future of the company. Stop making a scene.” Cousin Marcus slid a cup of coffee across the table toward me. “It’s not like you have to pay for the kids’ college funds. Just look at them as two extra nephews.” “Shut your mouth.” My hand trembled as I slammed it on the table. The living room was packed. Sylvia’s parents, a few of my own relatives, and the old board members from the company were all crowding around, trying to talk me out of a divorce. My mother-in-law rolled her eyes. “You can’t even give her a child, and you’re throwing a tantrum? Sylvia is generous enough to let you keep your dignity. Don’t push your luck.” Sylvia stood by the window. The afternoon sun stretched her shadow across the hardwood floor. She twisted her wedding ring and spoke softly. “Arthur, I know you feel wronged. But Tristan really doesn’t have any ulterior motives. He just wanted to give the boys a proper title.” “A proper title?” I burst out laughing. “So you give forty percent to the boys, and ten percent to Tristan. I’ve bled for this company for twenty years, and I don’t even get the scraps?” My father-in-law slapped the armrest and stood up. “You married into our money, and now you want to fight over the assets?” “Sylvia’s shares belong to her. She can give them to a stray dog if she wants!” He pointed a trembling finger right at my face, looking exactly like the creditors who used to spit on me and call me a gold-digger. Sylvia walked over and grabbed my arm. The cloying scent of Tristan’s signature cologne clung to her clothes. The investigator told me she went to Tristan’s suburban estate every weekend. She attended parent-teacher conferences where the sign-in sheet clearly read “Mr. and Mrs. Tristan.” And me? I was always stuck at home, waiting for texts about her “international meetings,” not even knowing what time she’d walk through the front door. “Arthur.” Sylvia suddenly dropped to her knees. The heavy thud echoed in the silent room. “I’m begging you, don’t file the papers. I’ll visit them less. We can even change the equity agreement.” “Change it?” I pulled the divorce papers from my briefcase. “It’s already notarized. What’s left to change?” “When we stood at the altar, we promised no lies, no secrets. You played me for ten years.” My mother-in-law sneered. “Men who shoot blanks are always the most sensitive. Sylvia is giving you an out. Take it.” “That’s enough!” I cut her off, my voice echoing off the high ceilings. “Haven’t I swallowed enough of your garbage? I ruined my stomach on your quack medicine. I let the whole social circle mock me for being half a man. All because I was protecting her decision to be child-free.” “And now I find out she secretly baked someone else’s kids in her oven. What the hell am I to you people?” Sylvia wrapped her arms around my legs, sobbing openly. “Arthur, I’m sorry. I’ll listen to you from now on. Let’s go reverse your surgery. We can have our own baby, okay?” I pried her fingers off my legs one by one. A freezing chill settled deep in my chest. Ten years ago, when she was pushing those babies out, did she ever think about the day I lay on that operating table, signing the consent forms to end my bloodline? Did she ever think about the endless nights I carried the shame of infertility just to shield her? “Let go.” I grabbed the handle of my suitcase. “You never had room for me in your heart. Just your ‘duties’ and your precious ‘heirs’.” As I walked toward the door, my mother-in-law was still hurling insults. Marcus was still making useless excuses. Sylvia was crying hard enough to tear her vocal cords. But I didn’t want to look back anymore. For twenty years, this marriage was a building I held up all by myself. Now I finally saw the truth. The child-free vows were fake. The “building our future together” was fake. I was just the idiot who handed over his beating heart on a silver platter. This marriage was over. 3 At my father-in-law’s seventieth birthday banquet, I stood by the champagne tower and watched Tristan walk in with the twins. He wore a custom-tailored suit and a polished, arrogant smile. He looked absolutely nothing like the scrawny college kid who used to wear faded t-shirts. Beatrice rushed forward to greet him, practically glowing. She took the velvet box from his hands, pulled out a diamond-studded watch, and immediately strapped it to her wrist, laughing loudly. “Tristan always has the best taste. Unlike some people who bring bad luck.” She threw a sideways glance at me, then tossed the vintage Rolex I had carefully selected straight into the messy pile of discarded gift bags. Sylvia had been resting her hand on my arm. The second she saw the kids, she dropped me like a bad habit. “Asher, Blake, did you miss Mommy?” She crouched down in her designer gown, pulling both boys into a tight hug, kissing their cheeks repeatedly. Tristan walked up and naturally wrapped his arm around her bare shoulders, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. “Tired from the drive? Hope the boys weren’t too much trouble.” Sylvia smiled affectionately, brushing an invisible speck of dust from his lapel. They looked like a picture-perfect married couple. I clenched my fists so tight my fingernails dug into my palms. In twenty years of marriage, this was the first time I had ever seen her look so painfully tender. When I was hospitalized with exhaustion, she stayed for three hours before claiming the office needed her. The night my ulcer ruptured and I was coughing up blood, she cried and said she was heartbroken, but she didn’t even stay the night in my room. “Arthur, this is Asher, the older brother.” Sylvia led the boy over to me, a lingering smile still warming her face. Asher looked up, his eyes filled with pure disgust. “You’re ugly. Not as handsome as my dad.” He twisted away and tugged at Sylvia’s dress. “Mommy said you got me a huge present for my tenth birthday. What is it?” “Be polite. This is your Uncle Arthur.” Sylvia gave him a light, playful tap on the shoulder. There was absolutely zero discipline in her voice. Asher stuck his chin out, glaring at me. “I know who he is. He’s the loser who stole my mom!” “We hate you! Go away!” The grand ballroom went dead silent. Beatrice cleared her throat, trying to smooth things over by muttering that kids say the darnedest things. She didn’t ask him to apologize. Tristan walked over and patted Asher’s head, though his tone carried a thick layer of smug satisfaction. “Watch your mouth, buddy. Uncle Arthur is Mommy’s friend.” Friend? I stared at Sylvia, waiting for her to reprimand the brat. But she just sighed and whispered that I shouldn’t take it personally. Then, she turned around, taking a silver tray from a waiter. She pulled off the velvet cloth to reveal three keys to luxury sports cars, the deed to a penthouse downtown, and a matte black limitless credit card. “Tristan, you guys will live in the city from now on. Use the cars and the card however you like.” Applause erupted. The wealthy guests swarmed Tristan with congratulations. I stood completely ignored in the corner, watching the light in Sylvia’s eyes. It was the exact same look she gave me when I signed our first million-dollar deal. Now, that light belonged to another man and his sons. The family lawyer took the microphone and stepped onto the stage to announce the equity transfer. “Forty percent of Sinclair Group is hereby gifted to Asher and Blake. Ten percent is gifted to Mr. Tristan.” A murmur rippled through the crowd. I heard a socialite nearby whisper, “The poor husband worked like a dog for two decades, and the outsider gets the goldmine.” Sylvia walked back toward me, reaching for my hand. Her fingertips were still warm from touching Tristan. “Arthur, giving them the shares is just a business move for the Sinclair legacy. Please don’t…” “Don’t what?” I cut her off coldly. “For the legacy? So you treat the man who built this company from the ground up like a ghost?” “When I was on my knees begging for loans with you, you promised me the shares would be ours. What happened to that?” She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Tristan strolled over, wrapping his arm around her waist and physically guiding her back toward the crowd of elites. As he passed me, a flash of pure mockery crossed his eyes. “Sylvia, I don’t think I’ve met the CEO of Vanguard yet. Care to introduce me?” After they walked away, I sat alone on a velvet sofa and downed half a bottle of neat bourbon. I remembered twenty years ago, taking a punch to the jaw from a furious creditor to protect her. She had cried, holding my bleeding face, swearing we would make it. I remembered the night in the ER, where she swore she would never leave me. Now, her “never” meant a happy family of three with another man. The next morning, Sylvia brought the kids back to our house. “Asher, Blake, play nice with Uncle Arthur. Mommy needs to run to the office.” She crouched down, adjusting their collars with a softness she never showed me. The moment the heavy oak door clicked shut, Asher marched right up to me, his eyes full of venom. “Mommy went to see my dad. He said you’re just a pathetic leech nobody wants.” “This is our house now. Get out!” I reached into my pocket to call Sylvia. Asher lunged, snatching the phone from my grip and smashing it against the marble floor. The second the glass shattered, he threw himself backward, wailing at the top of his lungs, smearing a tiny scrape on his hand against his shirt. “Dad! He hit me!” Tristan arrived faster than Sylvia did. He scooped Asher up, acting like a devastated father. “Arthur, if you have a problem, take it out on me. Don’t touch my son.” His eyes were red, every word perfectly calculated. Sylvia walked in right at that moment. Her face hardened into ice. “Arthur, you’re taking this out on a child?” “I didn’t…” A sharp slap echoed through the foyer, cutting off my sentence. A burning sting spread across my cheek and settled right in the center of my chest. Her eyes held a coldness I had never seen in twenty years. She pointed a trembling finger at the front door. “This is the Sinclair house. Asher is the heir. What gives you the right to treat him like dirt?” I looked at her, and suddenly, I chuckled. So this was it. In her heart, I wasn’t even worth the benefit of the doubt against a lying ten-year-old. I crouched down, picked up the crumpled divorce agreement from the coffee table, smoothed it out, and signed my name in bold, steady strokes. Sylvia’s voice came from behind me, suddenly laced with panic. “Arthur, where are you going? I’m sorry, don’t…” The rumble of my suitcase wheels drowned out her words. As I reached the door, Asher peeked out from behind Tristan’s legs and stuck his tongue out at me. Beatrice was leaning over the upstairs balcony, screaming about the ungrateful leech leaving. Sylvia’s tears hit the hardwood floor. I didn’t look back. Twenty years ago, I walked into the Sinclair family for love. Twenty years later, I finally understood that some people’s greed is a bottomless pit that true love can never fill. This time, I was going to make every single person who looked down on me regret it.

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Ever since the new intern at our company found out I hold a lifetime Platinum card with Apex Airlines, her attitude toward me became suspiciously warm. Right before the Memorial Day weekend, she slid over to my desk and batted her eyelashes. “Sarah, do you want to fly to Paris with me for the holiday? If we use your miles to book the tickets, we wouldn’t have to spend a dime.” I politely declined, telling her I had plans with my family. I didn’t expect her to cross her arms and casually drop a threat. “Well, if you aren’t going, then I’ll just go by myself.” My heart skipped a beat at those words. A flight to Paris, even a cheap economy ticket, would cost well over a thousand dollars. This girl was so cheap she smuggled rolls of toilet paper out of the office bathroom. How could she suddenly afford a European vacation? The more I thought about it, the more something felt off. Was she plotting to steal the miles off my Platinum card? My gut instinct was spot on. She actually tried to hack into my loyalty account behind my back, using my hard-earned miles to book four luxurious First-Class tickets for her entire family. But she didn’t stop there. She booked the VIP lounge, premium in-flight Wi-Fi, and even pre-ordered expensive duty-free luxury goods under my name. When her family was sitting in the VIP lounge, stuffing their faces and eagerly waiting to board their luxury flight, reality hit them like a freight train. 1 I was staring at my monitor, frantically trying to finalize a pitch deck, when our new intern, Jessica, leaned over my partition with an overly sweet smile. “Sarah, you’ve been working so hard this month. The Memorial Day long weekend is coming up. Want to take a trip to Paris together?” “Domestic tourist traps are going to be a nightmare. Paris is gorgeous this time of year. We should totally go.” I had already promised my family a trip to Florida for the long weekend, so I shut the idea down. “I’m spending the holiday with my family. I can’t go.” Her face immediately fell. Trying to soften the blow, I suggested an alternative. “I don’t think Riley has any plans for the weekend. Why don’t you ask her?” Jessica’s expression soured even more. “Her? She’s so broke she probably couldn’t even afford the passport renewal fee. If I travel with her, I’d end up subsidizing her whole trip. It’s way more fun traveling with you, Sarah. You’re like a walking blank check.” She had always been a gold digger with a massive superiority complex, looking down on anyone she deemed beneath her. I was going to laugh it off and get back to work, but my brain snagged on her exact phrasing. What did she mean by a blank check? Did she honestly expect me to fund a European getaway for the two of us and act as her personal ATM? She must have noticed the shift in my expression because she awkwardly laughed and quickly changed the subject. “Well, since you aren’t going, I guess I’ll just go by myself.” I watched her walk away, my suspicions kicking into overdrive. Jessica had only joined the firm three months ago as an intern, and I was her direct supervisor. She was a textbook social climber, obsessed with money but completely unwilling to spend her own. Every single day, she swiped a box of premium tissues from the supply closet before clocking out. She regularly emptied the reception snack bowl into her purse. Worse, she borrowed money and suffered from sudden amnesia when it was time to pay it back. Last week, she borrowed fifty bucks from Riley to cover her electric bill and still hadn’t returned a single cent. There was no way she could afford a last-minute flight to Paris on a holiday weekend, let alone the exorbitant costs of European hotels and dining. Even with my salary, I would have to budget for a trip like that. Where was her money coming from? Then it clicked. A cold realization washed over me. She wanted to use my Platinum miles to book her tickets. A month ago, a colleague in our department had a family emergency. His father was critically ill, and all the last-minute flights home were sold out. I called Apex Airlines, gave them my Platinum member number, and used my miles to secure him a seat on the next flight out. Jessica must have assumed that all you needed to book a free flight was a member ID. Now that I thought about it, she had asked an uncomfortable amount of questions that day. “Do you just give them your phone number?” “Can anyone in your family use it?” “Do you get a text alert when a flight is booked?” She had interrogated me like a detective. I had brushed it off at the time, casually mentioning that I got so much spam from the airline that I never checked their text alerts anyway. I distinctly remember her eyes lighting up. She had smiled a little too brightly. Looking back, that smile was pure, calculated greed. My lifetime Platinum status with Apex Airlines was the result of over a decade of grueling business travel. It took millions of flown miles to earn. The points sitting in that account were enough to book over a dozen First-Class international flights, complete with VIP lounge access and duty-free shopping perks. It wasn’t about being stingy. If a coworker was in a genuine crisis, I was more than happy to help. But the sheer audacity of Jessica casually planning to commit identity theft and drain my account filled me with absolute disgust. Still, I couldn’t exactly confront her without proof. After some careful thought, I picked up my phone and dialed the airline’s customer service line. 2 “Hi there. I have a security question. If someone knows my frequent flyer number, can they redeem my miles for a ticket without my explicit consent?” The representative replied almost instantly. “Please don’t worry, Ms. Davis. Redeeming miles requires not only your member ID but also a two-factor authentication code sent directly to your personal mobile device. Without that code, no booking can be finalized.” “When you booked a flight for your colleague previously, you were calling from your registered phone number, which verified your identity automatically. Rest assured, if a third party tries to use your account online or at a desk, the system will demand the authentication code.” Perfect. As long as she needed a code sent to my phone, Jessica’s little scheme was dead in the water. I breathed a heavy sigh of relief. I didn’t have to cause a scene at the office, and my miles were safe. The next morning, I had just sat down at my desk when Jessica strutted into the office. She looked completely different. She was wearing heavy, glamorous makeup and a pair of ridiculously high designer heels. A shiny gold bracelet wrapped around her wrist. She intentionally rolled up her sleeves and paraded around the open-plan office, making sure everyone got a good look. “Oh, this?” she said loudly. “My dad just got back from Paris and bought it for me. It’s Cartier. I told him not to spend so much, but he just insists on spoiling me.” I glanced at her wrist. The metal looked cheap and too yellow. The engraving was blurry. It looked like it came straight out of a vending machine. As someone who frequently shopped at high-end boutiques, I could spot a counterfeit from a mile away. That thing was a cheap knockoff from Temu, worth maybe twenty bucks at most. Brenda from accounting let out a sharp laugh. “Wow, Jessica. Cartier is seriously expensive. How much did that set your dad back?” Thrilled that someone had taken the bait, Jessica launched into an elaborate, entirely fictional backstory about the bracelet. When it finally came to the price, she waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, it wasn’t that much. Only around thirty grand. My dad told me to just wear it for fun as a reward for surviving my first three months of the internship. Money isn’t really an issue for my family anyway.” Riley, who was taking a sip of her morning coffee, nearly choked. My phone buzzed with a direct message from her. “Thirty grand for that cheap junk? I literally saw the exact same one on Wish.com last night for $13.80 with free shipping.” I let out a soft snort of laughter. Completely oblivious to the awkward atmosphere, Jessica kept bragging. “For the long weekend, my whole family is flying to Paris. Four tickets. First Class, obviously.” Another coworker raised an eyebrow. “Is Paris really all that?” Jessica scoffed, looking at him with pure disdain. “Paris is the ultimate luxury experience. You don’t know what true civilization and high culture look like until you’ve been to Europe. But I guess people who have never been just wouldn’t understand.” She kept talking, hyping up France as if even the oxygen there was superior. But everyone had lost interest. People turned back to their monitors and put their headphones on. Realizing her audience had evaporated, Jessica packed up her ego and sauntered over to my desk. “Sarah, you’ve probably never been to Europe, right? If you come with me this weekend, we could book a luxury spa hotel and get massages.” “Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to come?” 3 I smiled and shook my head. “I promised my family I’d spend the holiday with them. Plus, I have to drop a friend off at the airport. I’ll pass.” Jessica’s fake smile stiffened. “What a shame. Maybe next time.” She stared at me for a few agonizingly long seconds. I could practically see the gears turning in her head, calculating her next move. I pretended not to notice and went back to typing. But the whole interaction left a bad taste in my mouth. She was definitely plotting something. That night, after working late, I was scrolling through Instagram on my couch. A post from Jessica popped up. It was a glossy, filtered photo of the Eiffel Tower. The caption read: Paris bound for the long weekend! Living my best life! Underneath, a coworker had commented: Look at you, flying international for the holiday! Must be nice to be rich. Jessica replied: Hehe, the world is my oyster! When your family has the means, you have to explore the globe. Reading her replies brought that uneasy feeling rushing back. It felt exactly like being targeted by a con artist. Everything I owned was earned through years of sleepless nights and relentless hard work. If this girl managed to exploit a loophole and drain the miles I had spent a decade accumulating, I would be genuinely furious. I opened the airline app and checked my balance. Everything was normal. Still paranoid, I called customer service one more time. “Hi, I just need to be absolutely certain. If someone has my account number and password, is it physically impossible for them to book a ticket without the SMS code?” The agent was very patient. “Yes, Ms. Davis. We recently upgraded our security protocols. Even if they somehow guessed your password, the system will not authorize a booking without the two-factor authentication code. For high-value transactions like First Class international flights, it even prompts for facial recognition on the app. No one can steal your miles.” I finally relaxed. The morning of the holiday weekend, I drove my friend to the international terminal. After dropping her off, I walked past the Apex Airlines VIP Lounge, planning to grab a quick espresso before heading home. As I approached the frosted glass doors, a familiar figure caught my eye. It was Jessica. I stopped dead in my tracks and stood out of sight, observing the scene through the glass walls. Jessica was standing in the center of the ultra-exclusive lounge with her parents and younger brother. The contrast was jarring. Her parents were wearing faded, worn-out clothes that looked like they came from a thrift store bargain bin. Her brother’s jacket was visibly stained with grease. It completely shattered the “old money heiress” illusion she maintained at the office. Her brother was standing at the gourmet buffet, grabbing handfuls of food with his bare hands, taking a bite, and throwing the half-eaten pieces back onto the trays. A lounge attendant rushed over, keeping a polite customer-service tone. “Excuse me, young man. Please use the tongs provided.” Jessica’s mother rolled her eyes dramatically. “He’s just a kid, his hands aren’t dirty. Why are you being so bossy?” Meanwhile, Jessica’s father was walking around with five plates stacked high with enough food to feed an army, far more than they could ever eat. When the staff looked away, the mother pulled several plastic grocery bags from her oversized purse and started shoveling fresh pastries and expensive fruit directly into them. Instead of stopping them, Jessica actually helped. “Mom, these artisan cakes are super expensive outside. Grab a few more. They’re delicious.” The younger brother started sprinting laps around the quiet lounge, shrieking at the top of his lungs. The wealthy business travelers around them glared in absolute disgust. Jessica’s family didn’t care at all. Her mother laughed loudly, her voice booming through the glass. “This place is fantastic! That coworker of yours is amazing for letting us use this for free!” Jessica flipped her hair, looking incredibly smug. “Of course. I basically do all her work for her at the office. She owes me big time. She practically begged me to use her account.” She lied with such flawless conviction it was almost impressive. I let out a dark, quiet laugh. When exactly did I owe her a favor? Listening to her boast, everything fell into place. It wasn’t me being paranoid. She genuinely believed she had successfully stolen my Platinum benefits. Thank god I had double-checked the security protocols. If I hadn’t, this leech would have actually gotten away with it. 4 Jessica set up a small tripod on a table and started vlogging inside the lounge, even harassing the waitstaff into taking family photos of them. Minutes later, she updated her Instagram with a nine-photo carousel, tagging her location at the VIP First Class Lounge. The first photo was the Boeing jet on the tarmac. The second was the luxurious interior of the lounge. The third was a selfie of her posing with a crystal coffee cup, trying to look like a brooding billionaire. The fourth was a massive table covered in high-end food, featuring a massive, perfectly roasted whole lobster. The caption read: The lunch spread at the VIP lounge is to die for. You can even order whole Maine lobsters a la carte! So blessed. The service is a bit mediocre though, they really need to train their staff better! I zoomed in on the last photo. I could clearly see the menu price for the a la carte lobster. Two thousand dollars. Seeing that price tag made me laugh out loud. She wasn’t just stealing; she was trying to bleed my account dry. Did this idiot actually think she could pay for a la carte luxury dining with frequent flyer miles? The comments section on her post was pure gold. Wow, Jessica is loaded! Dropping two grand on a lobster while waiting for a flight! Wait, don’t you need a lifetime Platinum card to even get into that specific lounge? Living the dream! So jealous! Jessica replied with her signature fake humility. Oh, it’s nothing special. Just my standard travel routine! A few of our colleagues couldn’t resist calling her out. If you’re so rich, why did HR publicly reprimand you for stealing toilet paper from the office bathroom last week? I snorted. Just last month, the office manager caught Jessica stuffing her tote bag with premium coffee pods and paper towels. She was officially written up and ordered to pay fifty bucks to restock the supplies. She had made a million excuses, trying to get out of paying, until the accounting department threatened to deduct it directly from her paycheck. She finally paid the fine, glaring at everyone. The very next day, she went right back to stealing paper towels. Her greed truly knew no bounds. Suddenly, my phone vibrated in my hand. It was a call from Apex Airlines customer service. “Hello, Ms. Davis. We have a situation at the terminal. A Ms. Jessica gave the desk agent your frequent flyer number, claiming to be your immediate family member. She requested to use your miles to book four First-Class tickets to Paris.” “Due to a system error on our end regarding guest passes, they were temporarily allowed into the lounge while the booking was pending. However, the transaction requires your SMS verification to process. Did you authorize this redemption?” I didn’t hesitate. “I am not flying today, and I absolutely did not authorize anyone to use my miles or my account.” The agent’s voice turned strictly professional. “Understood, Ms. Davis. Furthermore, her party has accrued a significant bill for a la carte dining inside the lounge. Do you authorize the charge to the credit card linked to your profile?” “Absolutely not. That has nothing to do with me.” “Understood completely. We will handle the situation immediately.” I hung up the phone and looked through the glass one last time. Jessica and her family were still tearing into their lobster, completely oblivious. I shook my head, let out a cold laugh, and walked away from the airport. An hour later, I pulled into my driveway. When I checked my phone, I had 99+ unread text messages and over a hundred missed calls. All from Jessica. Before I could open the chat, a text notification popped up from the airline. Dear Member, a request has been made to deduct 500,000 miles from your Platinum account ending in 6688 for four First-Class tickets and VIP lounge access. If you authorize this, reply with code 27054. If you did not authorize this, reply NO.

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What my wife, Stella, did completely shattered my understanding of human decency. At the time, she mistakenly thought I was lying about her mother being bitten by a venomous snake and clinging to life. As a result, she literally stood by and watched her favorite male student inject the only vial of universal antivenom into a stray dog. Worse still, she stood there viciously cursing her own mother, wishing death upon her. Seeing her true colors, I simply replied to her message with a single word. Pathetic. I immediately turned around and uploaded the audio recording of our conversation, along with screenshots of that male student boasting about the dog on his social media, straight to the university’s public message board. I even had the perfect title ready. Risking Her Own Mother’s Life to Save a Stray Dog. Is This Our University’s ‘Daughter of the Year’? She loved to gloat, didn’t she? Well, she could just wait. Once the tidal wave of public outrage drowned her, I wanted to see if she could still smile. 1 In less than ten minutes, the comments under the forum post had surpassed a thousand. Stella was a highly respected professor at the university. Now that she had committed such an unforgivable and twisted act, the university board was furious. Rumors were already circulating that they were going to strip her of her position. Furious, she bombarded me with over a dozen voice messages, ordering me to delete the post. “My mother has always been in poor health. If the snake venom had really reached her heart, she wouldn’t have survived long enough for me to get the serum to her anyway. Rather than wasting it, it’s better to help a poor animal!” I let out a bitter, disbelieving laugh. “The person bitten by that snake is your own mother! Get your ass to the ER right now!” The other end of the line was dead silent for a second. Then, the cursing began. “Do you think I’m an idiot, Arthur?” “My mom has bad knees. She would never go hiking in a state park.” “Besides, if she was really hurt, wouldn’t she have called me herself?” If my mother-in-law could have reached her, she wouldn’t have had to call me as her last resort. Just then, the red light above the resuscitation room behind me flicked off. The attending doctor walked out, shaking his head with a look of deep regret. “The venom has spread entirely. The patient is experiencing multiple organ failure. You should go in and say your final goodbyes.” I immediately sent Stella a video call request. I pointed the camera directly at the sterile hospital bed. When the call connected, the screen didn’t show Stella. It showed Felix’s face. “Arthur, there is something I’m really curious about. Silver Peak is a highly regulated state park. How could there be venomous snakes there? Are you just making this up to steal the formula for the universal antivenom?” “I am not!” Stella scoffed coldly from somewhere off-camera. “No wonder you’ve been so obsessed with the progress of the antivenom lately. Now you’re cursing my mother to death just to get your hands on my finished samples?” “You are absolutely shameless, Arthur!” A second later, she snatched the phone and terminated the video call. I laughed out of pure anger. Just as I was about to dial back, my mother-in-law’s trembling hand gripped my wrist. Her eyes were unfocused, darting around the empty room. “Is it Stella? Why isn’t she here yet?” I knew Martha had been holding on by a thread solely to see her daughter one last time. But the person she was waiting for was never going to show up. I stayed silent for a long moment before my voice broke. “Traffic is really bad. She’s almost here. Just hold on a little longer, Martha.” Her pale lips quivered. She clearly had something left to say. I leaned in close and caught her raspy, choked whispers. “Arthur, I failed at raising my daughter. I am so sorry for what she put you through. Please, don’t give up on her.” I didn’t say a word. Last month, at Martha’s sixtieth birthday dinner, Stella had brazenly brought Felix along. Right at the dining table, in front of our entire family, she had hand-peeled shrimp and fed them to him. I demanded a divorce right then and there. The shock and humiliation triggered a mild heart attack for Martha. The ordeal only ended when Stella swore to me that she would cut off all contact with Felix. But from that day on, she stopped coming home. Not long after, using her research project as an excuse, she started sleeping around with him again. That was exactly why Martha had traveled up the mountain. She had gone to an old chapel at the peak of Silver Peak to pray for our crumbling marriage. She had no wilderness experience. When she was bitten, she didn’t even know if the snake was venomous until the toxins rapidly spread through her bloodstream, leaving her on the brink of death. The only thing that could save her was a dose of broad-spectrum universal antivenom. Coincidentally, the latest breakthrough at Stella’s research institute was exactly that. I had called her the absolute second I found out. She had sworn up and down that she would deliver it in time. Yet, it still ended like this. I couldn’t even describe the twisted knot of grief and rage in my chest. Meeting Martha’s desperate, hopeful gaze, I finally let out a heavy sigh. “I will take good care of her for you. I promise.” 2 Stella blocked me on every single platform. But someone had to handle Martha’s funeral arrangements. I had no choice but to go to the city clerk’s office to get the necessary next-of-kin paperwork. The clerk behind the glass looked at my ID, frowned, and pushed the documents back to me. “Sir, our system shows that your marital status is single.” “You must have a power of attorney signed by the deceased’s immediate legal family member before we can process anything for you.” I froze. Three years ago, Stella and I went to City Hall together. I literally watched the clerk stamp the official seal onto our marriage certificate. How on earth could I be single? “There must be a glitch in the system. Here is our marriage certificate. Could you please run the names again?” The clerk typed a few things into her keyboard and turned the monitor toward me. “Stella’s legal husband is named Felix.” “The state database doesn’t make mistakes like this. As for how this happened, I really couldn’t tell you.” I stared blankly at the timeline on the screen. The date of their marriage registration was last October. A memory suddenly clicked into place. Around that time, Stella told me her institute had taken on a highly classified government project. As her spouse, she claimed I needed to sign a strict non-disclosure agreement. She had rushed me so aggressively that I signed the paperwork without reading the fine print. Looking back now, the problem was definitely hidden inside that stack of papers. What an incredible bait-and-switch. No wonder she didn’t look panicked at all when I demanded a divorce at the family dinner last month. Stepping out of City Hall, I received a call from the hospital morgue. They were asking when Martha’s body would be transferred for cremation. Martha’s dying pleas echoed in my ears. She had begged me to believe that Stella was just being manipulated, that she had simply taken a wrong turn in life, and begged me not to blame her. But legally, I was a complete stranger. I had absolutely no right to offer forgiveness, let alone plan a funeral. “I am sorry,” I said calmly into the phone. “I am not Martha’s legal family. I don’t have the authority to make those decisions.” “Furthermore, her daughter hasn’t even seen her one last time. Please transport the body directly to the university campus to find her daughter.” I hung up and took a cab back to my house. But the moment I unlocked the front door, I saw Felix pinning a half-undressed Stella against my living room sofa. Hearing the door click, they scrambled to sit up in a panic. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back?” Stella frowned at me in deep annoyance. The fresh red hickeys on her neck were blindingly obvious. I sneered, stepping inside and deliberately stepping right on Felix’s expensive jacket that had been tossed onto the floor. “Do I need to report to you when I return to my own house?” “I am giving you five minutes. If you aren’t out of my sight by then, I’m calling the cops and reporting a home invasion.” Hearing this, Felix put on a sickeningly pathetic face and bowed to me apologetically. “I am so sorry, Arthur. I was just worried about the Professor walking home alone, so I escorted her. Please don’t misunderstand.” Escorting her home. Did that require lying half-naked on the sofa? I didn’t have the energy to argue. I turned and walked straight into the master bedroom. Staring at the massive wedding photo hanging on the wall, I felt nothing but pure irony. Stella was living in the house I paid for in cash, yet she had tricked me into signing a divorce agreement. And now, she was brazenly bringing Felix into my living room. I walked over, ripped the wedding photo off the wall, and threw all of our matching couple’s items directly into the trash. Just as I finished, I heard the front door slam shut. I intended to walk out and finally lay everything on the table with her. But the moment I stepped into the hallway, I found two police officers standing in my entryway. Stella pointed a manicured finger right at my chest. “Officers, I want to report this man for attempting to steal classified national research formulas for illegal profit!” 3 My head snapped up in utter shock. “You are lying!” “Stella, I never lied to you today. Your mother was really bitten by a venomous snake and needed that serum.” “She called your name until her final breath, and you didn’t even care enough to check. If you don’t believe me, I will call the morgue right now.” Stella marched forward and slapped me hard across the face. She let out a cruel laugh. “After all those words, you’re just mad that I didn’t fall for your trap, aren’t you?” “You said my mom was dying? Open your eyes and look closely. My mom texted me half an hour ago to tell me she was perfectly safe!” She shoved her phone screen directly into my face. The contact labeled ‘Mom’ had indeed sent a message thirty minutes ago. Princess, everything is fine. But I knew Martha inside and out. She never, ever called Stella ‘Princess’. That message was absolutely not sent by her. I opened my mouth to point this out. But Felix stepped right into my personal space. He threw an arm over my shoulder in a mock-friendly gesture. “Arthur, the institute invited you to join us earlier this year, but you rejected the Director’s offer because you weren’t happy with the salary. Now you’re jealous that we made a breakthrough, and you want to steal the formula to sell it? That is just pathetic.” “When you get to the station, make sure you confess everything. Maybe you can learn to be a better person when you get out.” His blatant provocation completely snapped my last nerve. Not even caring that the police were standing right there, I drove my fist straight into his smug face. “Why don’t you just die, you absolute piece of trash?” The man beneath me didn’t even try to fight back. He practically absorbed my punches, making sure to dramatically cover his face and whimper. “Arthur, I know you hate me.” “But I never blamed you for interfering in my marriage or harassing my wife. How do you have the nerve to play the victim here?” Stella decided to drop all pretenses. She forcefully shoved me away from him. Then, she pulled a document from the coffee table drawer and threw it directly at my face. “You are the one trespassing, and you are the one who deserves to rot!” “Read it carefully, Arthur. Half a year ago, you voluntarily signed an agreement giving up all marital assets. What right do you have to bark in my house?” “You maliciously slandered my mother’s name for your own selfish greed, and you assaulted my husband. I am not letting this go!” The sharp edge of the thick paper sliced a thin cut across my cheek. But I acted as if I couldn’t feel it. My hands tightly gripped the thin sheets of paper. So, she had planned this all along. Even this house, the one I had purchased entirely with my own money, was now legally a “voluntary gift” I had handed over to her. After a long silence, I looked up, a mocking smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. “You really played a good game, Stella.” “But I promise you, you are going to regret this.” She crossed her arms, watching coldly as the police handcuffed me and led me to the cruiser. Right as the car door was about to close, I saw Felix pull a phone out of his pocket behind Stella’s back. My mind exploded. My eyes went wide. That was Martha’s phone. Why on earth did he have it? Felix shot me a triumphant, arrogant smirk. I could clearly read his lips. You are always going to be a loser. 4 It wasn’t until I was sitting in the interrogation room that I finally processed everything. Martha had always treated me well. When my own parents were hospitalized from a bad accident, she drained her retirement fund just to help me cover their medical bills. Every holiday, there was always a plate of sweet and sour ribs on the table, just because she knew it was my favorite. In the past, Stella used to mock me for it, saying a grown man shouldn’t have a sweet tooth. But Martha never cared. She always defended me to Stella. “Arthur works hard for this family. I’m just glad he likes my cooking.” And now, after her tragic death, she was being used as a pawn in a sick game, and I was forced to watch the mastermind gloat. After I gave my statement and the police verified the actual timeline of events, they realized the assault was a minor domestic dispute and the espionage claim was baseless. I was released without charges. As I walked out, my phone buzzed with a text from Stella. For the sake of our past, I’ll drop the assault charges. But the condition is that you must publicly apologize to Felix. Otherwise, once the allegations of you trying to steal state research go public, your entire career is over. Seeing how blissfully unaware of her own impending doom she was, I typed out a quick reply. I agree. Stella thought I was terrified. She happily called me, demanding I take a cab straight to the university campus. I was to apologize in front of the entire university board for my behavior. On the ride over, I called the funeral home. “Please transport Ms. Martha’s casket to Oakbridge University right now.” “I sent you her daughter’s phone number earlier. When you arrive, just call her to accept the delivery.” The director readily agreed. I hung up the phone and pushed open the door of the cab. Stella was already waiting for me with the university board and a swarm of local media reporters in tow. “I invited everyone here today primarily to clarify a few things,” she announced, her voice steady and professional. She didn’t even glance in my direction. “As many of you know, Arthur and I were married for three years. But we legally divorced six months ago. Despite that, for the past half-year, he has continued to harass me. He aggressively tried to force his way between me and my new husband, Felix.” “Out of respect for our past, I tolerated his behavior. But I never imagined that because he couldn’t have me, he would try to destroy me. He lied about my mother being bitten by a snake, trying to trick me into abandoning the institute’s serum.” “Arthur caused this disaster, and he should take full responsibility for it.” The crowd erupted. The reporters sighed in sympathy for Stella’s “endurance” and turned their cameras toward me, openly spitting insults. Amidst the flashing cameras, Felix stepped forward. “Arthur, Stella and I are willing to let the past go. But to try and steal classified research for your own profit is unacceptable.” “Since everyone is here today, give a proper apology. You owe it to all the researchers who worked on that project.” “Get on your knees. Show some actual sincerity.” I curled my lips into an icy smile. “I can apologize. Forget kneeling, I’ll even bow my head to the floor.” “But before I do that, I have a few things to say as well.” I pulled out my phone and played the audio clips of Felix’s provocations, swiping through the screenshots of his obnoxious social media posts. “You claim I have no shame and that I interfered in your marriage. But for the past six months, I am the one who has been constantly harassed.” “And I never lied about today. I can prove it to you right now.” Without missing a beat, I dialed Martha’s phone number in front of the dozens of rolling cameras. A second later, a loud ringing sound vibrated from Felix’s coat pocket. He panicked, frantically pressing his hand against his pocket to muffle the sound, but it was useless. Stella rushed over and ripped the phone out of his coat. “Why do you have my mother’s phone?” Felix stuttered, completely unable to form a coherent sentence. Right at that exact moment, Stella’s own phone began to ring. A gruff voice echoed over the murmur of the confused crowd. “Which one of you is Ms. Stella? We need a signature for the delivery of your mother’s body.”

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My husband is Bren, the Alpha of the Dubois pack. He’s also the CEO of a Fortune 500 company. Outsiders always assume I must be incredibly wealthy after marrying Bren. Whenever I hear that, I can only smile bitterly. Later, while organizing files in Bren’s study, I accidentally discovered a yellowed gift agreement hidden in the bottom drawer. It was a breakup settlement Bren had given his ex-girlfriend Vivian for free: 30 million in cash, 2% of the company’s equity, and ownership of two commercial buildings in the pack’s business district. I’ve been married to Bren for seven years, but before our wedding, he had me sign a cold, impersonal prenuptial agreement. I don’t have any assets under my name, let alone any involvement in his business. Even the villa we currently live in has nothing to do with me. Just as I’m feeling angry, Bren appears in the doorway and scolds me: “I told you not to go into my study. You broke the rules again.” I hand him the gift agreement he gave his ex-girlfriend and say calmly: “Bren, let’s get divorced. I want to break our mate bond with you.” He frowns and tears the document in my hands to shreds: “Just because of this agreement?! I can do whatever I want with my own property. Do I need your approval? Besides, this is all in the past.” With that, he doesn’t spare me another glance and leaves the study. And I simply call my lawyer calmly.

When the divorce lawyer sent over the divorce agreement, she was still trying to convince me: “Luna Una, are you sure you want to give up all assets? Although you signed a prenuptial agreement, Alpha Bren has always been generous. You can fight for your legal rights.” Hearing the lawyer’s words, a bitter smile appeared on my lips. Legal rights? I actually have nothing. After marriage, Bren only takes a $1 salary from the company each month. The company’s equity distribution was made very clear before I married him. All core assets belong to him personally and have nothing to do with me. On our wedding day, he had a professional lawyer present as a witness, while I faced a thick stack of prenuptial agreements. Actually, I didn’t think there was anything wrong with it before. Bren is a natural Alpha leader and businessman, skilled at planning and very rational. At that time, I loved him as a person, not his wealth, so I didn’t care at all. But it wasn’t until I saw how generous he was with his ex-girlfriend that I realized how much of a fool I’d been. My chest tightened painfully, but I still replied calmly, “No need. Just proceed with this agreement.” After hanging up with the lawyer, I removed my ring: Inside the ring was an English inscription: B&V. Only at this moment did I suddenly realize this was actually an abbreviation for “Bren and Vivian.” This reminded me of three years ago when I accidentally left my ring at an art exhibition. When Bren saw I wasn’t wearing my ring, he immediately lost his temper. He dragged me to the door. “Why aren’t you wearing your ring? Where did you put it?” The coldness on his face made me panic. I quickly explained: “I went to see an art exhibition during the day and accidentally left it in the restroom. The staff said they’d bring it tomorrow.” After hearing my explanation, although Bren didn’t say much more that night, he had his assistant retrieve the ring from the exhibition staff overnight. Even this villa we live in was purchased because he had planned to marry Vivian. Vivian left him but took away assets I could never obtain in my lifetime. What I’m jealous of isn’t just the unfair distribution of assets, but his favoritism toward his ex-girlfriend all these years. For the next seven full days, he barely spoke a word to me. He didn’t touch any of the breakfasts I prepared. He didn’t even come home two nights. Thinking of all these past events, numbness and sourness surged through my heart again. Afraid tears would burst forth, I removed the ring and placed it on the table. After the lawyer delivered the agreement, I decisively signed my name on the divorce papers and left the villa without looking back.

With a friend’s help, I quickly found a suitable apartment. I’ve never been picky about living conditions, so that same afternoon I finalized the lease with the landlord. By the time I finished cleaning thoroughly, it was already nine o’clock at night. I decided to return to the villa to talk to Bren face-to-face about the divorce and breaking our mate bond. But I waited until eleven o’clock at night, and Bren still hadn’t returned. I sat blankly in the living room waiting for him. At one in the morning, Bren pushed open the door, reeking of alcohol. Seeing me sitting there, he immediately showed signs of impatience. He took off his suit jacket and casually threw it over the back of a chair, saying coldly to me, “Going to fight again? I don’t have time for that.” With that, he rolled up his shirt sleeves and was about to head straight to his room. The whole time, he didn’t glance once at the divorce agreement I’d placed on the table, nor did he say an extra word to me. My throat tightened slightly, but I still called out to him, “Bren, this is the divorce agreement. Please sign it. Let’s get divorced and break our mate bond.” Bren’s steps paused slightly. He turned back irritably to look at me. “Still angry about the breakup agreement with my ex? You’re my wife now. Don’t you even have that much grace?” Hearing these words, I suddenly wanted to laugh. So in Bren’s view, the only reason I wanted a divorce was because he gave his ex a breakup settlement? But if it were really just about money, I wouldn’t have chosen to marry him in the first place. Maybe Bren will never know that I’ve silently loved him for many years. I once wrote him 99 love letters but never dared to deliver them personally. Like a humble observer, I quietly watched everything about him from the sidelines. I watched Bren fall in love with Vivian, watched Vivian break up with Bren and leave for another pack, watched Bren look utterly devastated. Not long after, I discovered Bren and I were fated mates. At that time, Bren took the initiative to ask me to date him. I was beyond thrilled—I thought he’d let go of Vivian. Even if he didn’t love me that much, I wasn’t afraid. I thought people can change, that my sincerity would eventually move him. After we started dating, although he rarely took initiative with me, he always maintained a certain politeness. He spent very little time with me, but he was willing to accompany me to a movie on Valentine’s Day. He’d give me gifts on my birthday, though the gifts were only chosen by his secretary. But even these small bits of sweetness made me feel very content. After dating for a year, we got married smoothly. There was no touching marriage proposal, no romantic wedding. It was simply because his parents urged him to get married, so he agreed to marry me. Four years of secret love, one year of dating, seven years of marriage. Now it’s enough. I don’t want to continue anymore. Suppressing the stabbing pain in my chest, I took a deep breath, “Bren, I really want a divorce.” With that, I stood up first, repeating calmly and firmly, “So, I hope by tomorrow morning, this agreement will already be signed. After that, we’ll find a day to break our mate bond.” After saying this, I imitated his usual cold manner, walked past him toward the guest bedroom, and locked the door. Bren suddenly shouted angrily behind me, “Fine, Una! You want a divorce, right? Okay, I’ll sign it right now. Even if you come crawling back begging me later, I won’t take you back!” Soon, the sound of a door slamming came from the next room. Listening to the commotion outside, even though I was mentally prepared, I still felt a dense, stabbing pain in my heart. Perhaps Bren had long forgotten that during these seven years of marriage, I had begged him in a low voice countless times. On the first anniversary after our marriage, I pleaded with him to celebrate at the beach. He agreed readily, but when the appointed time came, he sent me a last-minute message saying he had an emergency meeting that evening. After that, he never explained again and just hung up the phone directly. Seven years have passed, and every year I ask if he has time, saying I want to travel somewhere with him. But every year, he says his schedule is too tight and he has no time. Just like that, the trips he owes me have been postponed again and again. Actually, I never understood before why even after years of marriage to Bren, there always seemed to be an invisible wall between us. Not until that gift agreement surfaced. Only then did I understand—it’s all simply because he doesn’t care about me at all. I have to admit one thing: Where a man spends his money is where his love is.

The next morning, Bren was already gone. Only the living room remained, littered with shredded pieces of the torn divorce agreement. Looking at the mess, for a brief moment, I felt somewhat dazed. Perhaps… Bren isn’t really that heartless toward me? Did he tear up the divorce agreement because he couldn’t bear to let me go? It wasn’t until my phone buzzed with a new message that I snapped back to reality. The message was from a strange girl. A week ago, she suddenly wanted to add me as a friend on my Ins account. Her verification message read, “Third wheel, I’m back. Time to return Bren to me, don’t you think?” Out of curiosity, I accepted her request. Since then, she’s been frequently sending me various photos and documents. Photos of Bren accompanying her to concerts; Video screenshots of the two of them watching fireworks together at the beach; Even photos of them kissing in a parking lot late at night. Even that agreement in Bren’s study—she was the one who tipped me off about it. This time, she sent a photo of Bren sleeping peacefully on a hotel bed, captured from the side. “I heard you went through Bren’s study and saw that agreement. So, have you given up yet?” “By the way, the jewelry Bren left for you—I hope you’ll send it for cleaning and disinfection soon.” “I have a cleanliness obsession. I don’t like things that other people have touched.” “Making Bren marry you was only because I thought you were clean enough. Men have physical needs, you know. Better he relieves himself with you than goes looking for prostitutes outside.” “Also, you only have three days to get divorced, or I’ll go public with our relationship.” “Don’t think Bren can’t bear to lose you. You have no idea how proactive he is.” “Ever since I returned to Dubois pack, he’s been coming to find me almost every day. Alright, enough talking. Bren’s about to wake up. We’re going to take a bath together.” The messages stopped abruptly there. And my tears fell one by one onto the keyboard. Through blurred vision, I forced myself to reply: “You said you don’t like things other people have touched, but over these years, Bren and I have had sex a thousand times already.” After I sent the message, there was no further response from her. My chest felt suffocated, like being punched into cotton. That sharp, piercing pain surged up instantly. No wonder he stormed out in the middle of the night. At the time, I thought it was because my mention of divorce had upset Bren. Turns out he was just rushing off to relive old times with his ex-girlfriend. The last thread in my heart snapped. With trembling fingertips, I sent him a message, “Bren, are you free today? I want to break our mate bond with you. We can go to City Hall and handle the procedures.”

I sent my message a full half hour ago, and Bren still hasn’t responded. Calling him goes unanswered too. Instead, Vivian sent me a voice message. “Are you annoying or what? Why do you keep calling Bren? Don’t you know? Bren and I hate being disturbed when we’re alone together.” I suppressed the anger in my heart and replied to her: “I’ve already told him I want to reject him. If you don’t want to remain nameless forever, have him come back and break the mate bond with me.” Vivian stopped responding. I really had no patience to wait for Bren’s message anymore. I directly contacted a moving company and started packing all my belongings. Including all the various gifts I’d given him over the years. Oil paintings I’d made for him, ties and cufflinks I’d bought him… He’d thrown all these things in the storage room like garbage. Since he doesn’t want them, I’ll throw them all away—along with the heart that once loved him. Although I’d lived in this house for seven years, it took only three hours to load all my things onto the moving truck. As I was leaving, I ultimately couldn’t hold back and burst into tears again. I had just moved to my new apartment and was simply organizing my things. That’s when I received another message from Vivian: “Come over. Bren is at my hotel suite. He’s agreed to break the mate bond.” Looking at this message, my fingers tightened unconsciously around my phone. In the end, I only replied: “Okay.” Before leaving, I’d already formed a revenge plan in my mind. I changed into a quick-dry outfit and grabbed a camera with a telephoto lens. Then I took a taxi straight to the hotel Vivian had sent me. I’d been humiliated by Vivian for a whole month. It was time to let her experience what being humiliated feels like. Even though I knew Bren would be furious and we’d both lose in the end.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “394573”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

The moment I won the championship, I instinctively looked for Payton. But the VIP section was empty. On my phone, news flashed. He’d spent millions to rent every billboard in the city. All to celebrate his first love Sophia’s birthday. Meanwhile, the trending topic was my scandal. “Extreme skydiving champion Lily is the mistress of the Payton heir.” But I was supposed to be his fiancée. I rushed to his office to confront him. Instead, I walked in on an intimate moment. He calmly lifted Sophia off his lap and looked at me coldly. “Sophia’s back. You can get lost now.” Seven years of being by his side meant nothing. I looked at his smug face and laughed. I turned and walked into the elevator, dialing his half-brother and bitter rival. “Jace, that collaboration you mentioned before. I’m in. Let’s make Payton lose everything.” Lily’s POV As I leaped from four thousand meters high, the wind roared in my ears. I calmly pulled the ripcord. The massive main parachute exploded open above my head, violently yanking my rapidly falling body upward. Landing, detaching the chute, unfastening the safety buckle. My movements were fluid. Enthusiastic cheers erupted around me. This was my third extreme skydiving world championship this year, and also the highest-level commercial endorsement I’d secured for Payton Corporation. After removing my goggles, I instinctively looked toward the VIP viewing area. I scanned all around but never found the figure I’d been expecting. Payton hadn’t come after all. My assistant Shay approached hesitantly, holding out my phone. “Lily, Payton, he…” On the screen was a news article. “Payton heir makes grand romantic gesture, spending millions to rent citywide billboards for Sophia’s birthday!” In the video, the usually cold and taciturn Payton was gently fastening a diamond necklace around a girl’s neck. The girl shyly nestled into his embrace like a startled fawn. Below this news article hung another glaring headline. #Extreme skydiving champion Lily is the Payton heir’s mistress#. The netizens’ mockery flooded in. “She flies around in the sky every day and actually thinks she’s a socialite?” “Who doesn’t know Lily signed with Payton Corporation for money back then? She’s just a money-making tool.” “Our Sophia is afraid of heights. Mr. Payton won’t even let her near the second-floor terrace. Lily skydives every day and Mr. Payton never cares about her. That’s the difference between true love and a mistress!” I calmly turned off the screen, concealing all emotion in my eyes. “Miss Lily, are you okay?” Shay looked at me with concern. “I’m fine. Pack up the equipment. We’re going home.” During the thirteen-hour flight, I didn’t sleep once. My mind was filled with the look in Payton’s eyes as he fastened the necklace around Sophia’s neck. That careful, protective gaze. He used to look at me like that too. Seven years ago, my mother was dying. I knelt in the rain outside the Payton estate, begging for money. It was Payton who walked up to me with an umbrella and pulled me to my feet. He paid for her treatment. He sent me to the best skydiving school. He said, “Lily, you belong to the sky. You shouldn’t be held back by this mud.” I thought it was love. But I was wrong. He was just seeing someone else in me. Someone too afraid of heights to ever fly herself. Now, that woman had returned. As soon as I got off the plane, I called Payton. The phone rang for a long time before he answered. In the background was soft piano music. “What is it?” The man’s voice carried cold indifference. “I saw the news.” I gripped my phone tightly, my knuckles turning white. “Payton, we’re legally married.” A slight snort came from the other end. “Lily, don’t try to control me with that piece of paper. Whatever compensation you want, contact my secretary directly.” “I just won the championship.” I didn’t know why I said this. Perhaps I still held onto a laughable shred of hope. “Mm, congratulations.” His tone was perfunctory. “Sophia has a bit of a cold. I don’t have time to listen to you report your achievements. If there’s nothing important, I’m hanging up.” Beep. The sound of the call ending pierced my eardrum. Standing in the airport, I suddenly felt that the cold at four thousand meters was nothing compared to this moment. When I returned to the villa, it was already late at night. I opened the door and froze. The originally minimalist living room was now filled with pink throw pillows and stuffed animals. My favorite skydiving oil painting of the snowy mountains had been taken down and carelessly tossed in a corner, replaced by an enormous solo portrait of Sophia. Payton sat on the sofa, playing with an exquisite music box. Hearing the noise, he looked up, his brow furrowing slightly. “Why did you come back so suddenly?” “This is my home. Can’t I come back?” My voice was hoarse. Payton stood up and walked over to me, looking down at me from above. “Sophia likes this place. She doesn’t sleep well and needs quiet. Your skydiving equipment takes up too much space. I’ve already had it moved to the apartment in East City.” His tone was flat, as if he were discussing the most ordinary matter. “You’re kicking me out?” I looked up, staring hard into his eyes. “Just having you change where you live.” Payton was somewhat impatient. “Lily, you’ve always been independent and strong. Sophia is timid. Don’t scare her.” Looking at this man I’d loved for seven years, I suddenly felt he was completely unfamiliar. I was independent and strong, so I deserved to be kicked out? She was timid, so she could rightfully take over everything that belonged to someone else? I didn’t make a scene. I didn’t cry. I simply turned around calmly, dragging the suitcase I hadn’t even opened yet, and walked into the night. He didn’t try to keep me. Behind me, only the crisp music of the music box played on, as if mocking my pathetic state.

Lily’s POV The apartment in East City was tiny, not even big enough to store my parachute pack. I spent the entire night packing up the equipment I’d once treasured like precious possessions, stuffing them one by one into the cramped storage room. At dawn, Payton’s secretary called. “Mrs. Payton, Mr. Payton has instructed that for next month’s extreme sports reality show, he hopes you can help Miss Sophia.” The hand wiping my helmet paused. “Sophia? Isn’t she afraid of heights?” The secretary gave an awkward laugh. “Miss Sophia says… she wants to challenge herself. After all, Mr. Payton feels this show has very high viewership, which would help Miss Sophia’s career…” “And Mr. Payton’s intention is for you to serve as her dedicated safety instructor, protecting her throughout.” Have a world champion serve as a safety instructor for a delicate female celebrity? And watch my own husband dote on another woman in front of a national audience? “I refuse.” I coldly uttered those words. “Mrs. Payton…” The secretary’s voice lowered. “Mr. Payton said if you refuse, Payton Corporation will withdraw all sponsorship of your skydiving team for the second half of the year.” I shut my eyes tightly. My heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand. Payton, you’re so cruel to me. My team had over a dozen colleagues who’d been with me for a long time. They desperately needed this sponsorship to maintain the high training costs. “Fine.” After hanging up, I looked at myself in the mirror with reddened eyes and forced out a smile more painful than crying. The debt I owed Payton. I was close to finally paying it off. On the day of filming, the weather was hot. Sophia wore a custom pink skydiving suit and was surrounded by a cluster of assistants as she approached. She wore delicate makeup and had her hair carefully styled. She didn’t look like someone here to skydive. More like she was walking a red carpet. Payton followed beside her, holding a parasol, carefully shading her from the sun. “Hello, Lily.” Sophia walked up to me with a sweet smile. “I’m really afraid of heights. Payton insisted I try skydiving. You must protect me, okay?” I handed her a set of basic protective gear with an expressionless face. “Put it on. Check the buckles.” Sophia suddenly cried out, looking at Payton with grievance. “Payton, this buckle is so hard. It hurt my hand.” Payton immediately dropped the umbrella, took her hand with concern and blew on it gently, then turned to look at me coldly. “Lily, can’t you help her? What am I paying you for?” The surrounding crew members all turned to look, their eyes full of curiosity. I took a deep breath, stepped forward, and efficiently fastened Sophia’s safety buckles, tightening the straps. “It hurts! Be gentler!” Sophia’s eyes immediately reddened. Payton shoved me aside and shielded Sophia behind him. “Lily, you did that on purpose, didn’t you?” His eyes were icy, as if I were a criminal. The push made me stumble backward, my back hitting the hard cabin door. “Skydiving isn’t acting. If the straps aren’t tight, there could be an accident.” I looked straight into his eyes, my voice completely flat. “If Mr. Payton is worried about her, you can take her and leave right now.” Payton’s expression was terrible. He was about to speak when Sophia tugged at his sleeve. “Payton, Miss Lily is just looking out for me. I’m fine. I can handle it.” He glanced at me coldly. “If anything happens to Sophia, even one hair on her head, I’ll make you pay.” The plane took off. As altitude increased, the cabin pressure began to change. Sophia’s face turned pale. She clutched Payton’s arm tightly, trembling all over. “Payton, I’m scared… I don’t want to jump anymore…” Her voice took on a tearful quality. Payton held her tightly, constantly comforting her, then turned and roared at the pilot. “Turn back! Can’t you see she’s uncomfortable!” The pilot looked at me somewhat helplessly. “Miss Lily, this…” “We can’t turn back.” I looked calmly at the instrument panel. “The air currents are unstable right now. Forcing a landing is too risky. We must either jump at the designated altitude or circle to burn fuel.” “I told you to turn back, don’t you understand!” Payton suddenly stood up, rushed over to me, and grabbed my collar. “Lily, do you want to make Sophia uncomfortable? You crazy woman!” Looking at him, I suddenly felt utterly absurd. I was a professional skydiving athlete using my professional knowledge to protect everyone’s safety, yet in his eyes, I’d become a vicious woman jealous of someone else. “Payton, let go.” I said coldly. Just then, the plane suddenly encountered strong turbulence. The fuselage shook violently. Sophia screamed and fainted. Chaos erupted in the cabin. I quickly steadied myself and checked Sophia’s vital signs. She’d only fainted from extreme fright. Nothing serious. But Payton had completely lost his rationality. He shoved me away, held Sophia tightly in his arms, and glared at me with bloodshot eyes. “Get away! Don’t touch her!” I sat on the cold metal floor, watching him hold another woman while trembling, and my heart felt like it was being pierced by millions of needles simultaneously. The pain made even breathing taste of blood.

Lily’s POV The plane ultimately landed safely. Sophia was rushed to the hospital. Payton stayed close by her side. Meanwhile, I, as the “instigator” of this “farce,” was kept at the tarmac, subjected to questioning by the production team and Payton Corporation’s PR department. “Miss Lily, why did you refuse to turn back? Was this decision mixed with personal emotions?” “There are rumors that you hold a grudge against Miss Sophia and deliberately tampered with the equipment. Are these accusations true?” Countless microphones thrust toward me, camera flashes blinding. I repeated that same sentence expressionlessly. “Weather conditions didn’t permit it. I only made the most professional judgment.” No one believed me. With Payton’s tacit permission, public opinion completely turned toward Sophia. She became the innocent victim. Someone bravely challenging herself but persecuted by a vicious instructor. And I became the jealous lunatic. My social media accounts were flooded with hate. Countless vicious private messages poured in. People even mailed dead rats and razor blades to my apartment. I ignored it all, just locked myself in my room, reviewing the meteorological data from that day over and over. I wasn’t wrong. But I knew that in Payton’s eyes, even my breathing was wrong. Three days later, Payton’s mother, Claire, personally came to this small apartment. She wore a haute couture suit. Looking around, a flash of disgust crossed her eyes. “Lily, look at yourself now.” Claire sat in the only clean chair, her tone condescending. I brought her a glass of water. “Why are you here?” “Don’t call me Mom.” Claire coldly interrupted me. “If Payton hadn’t insisted on marrying you back then, do you think you could have entered the Payton family? Think about what your status is.” I lowered my eyes and didn’t refute her. “I’m here today to inform you of something.” Claire took out a document from her bag and tossed it on the table. “You must win the World Championship next month. Payton Corporation just acquired an overseas sports brand. We need this championship to expand brand awareness.” I looked at the document, sorrow welling up in my heart. “What if I can’t win?” “What did you say?” Claire sneered. “Lily, don’t forget that your mother’s medical bills back then, and your training expenses over these years, were all paid by the Payton family. The contract states it clearly. If you lose, not only do you have to pay ten times the penalty, your team will have to disband too.” She stood up, looking down at me from above. “Win the championship, fulfill the responsibilities in the contract, and then voluntarily divorce Payton. Sophia is the one I approve of. You’ve occupied this position long enough. It’s time to give it up.” The door slammed shut heavily. I collapsed to the floor, looking at that cold contract, and finally couldn’t hold back my tears. So in their eyes, I was never Payton’s wife. I was just an employee who’d signed an unequal treaty. For the next month, I practically lived at the training facility. The high-intensity training aggravated my old injuries. My shoulder and knee hurt so much I couldn’t sleep. I could only get by on painkillers. I dragged my exhausted body back to the apartment, only to see Payton’s car downstairs. He leaned against the car door, a cigarette between his fingers. Seeing me, he stubbed out the cigarette and strode over. “Where were you? Why do you look so haggard?” “Training.” I flatly uttered that word and walked past him, preparing to go upstairs. He grabbed my wrist. I gasped, the severe pain in my shoulder instantly draining the color from my face. Payton froze for a moment and instinctively released his grip. “What’s wrong with you?” “Nothing.” I stepped back, creating distance. “Mr. Payton, is there something you need?” Irritation flashed in his eyes. “Sophia has a very important red carpet event tomorrow. She needs a beautiful necklace. I remember you have one called Heart of the Sun. Lend it to her for a day.” I jerked my head up, looking at him in disbelief. That “Heart of the Sun” necklace. The ring he’d proposed with had been remade into it. Later, he’d personally fastened it around my neck, saying he wanted that necklace to stay against my heartbeat forever. Now he wanted me to lend this necklace to another woman? “No.” I said stubbornly through gritted teeth. “Lily, can you stop being so selfish?” Payton’s voice turned cold. “It’s just a necklace. It’s not like you wear it.” “That’s a memento from my mother!” I blurted out, randomly making up a lie. I didn’t want to tell him I’d been wearing that necklace all along. Payton sneered. “Your mother left it to you? Lily, when you lie, don’t you think first? I bought that for you back then. Since I bought it, I have the right to use it now.” He reached out and directly pulled open my collar. The silver chain glinted coldly in the moonlight, and that blue diamond rested quietly at my collarbone. Payton froze. He clearly hadn’t expected that I’d been wearing it all along. Looking at his shocked expression, my heart no longer held a ripple of emotion. I reached up without hesitation and yanked hard. Snap. The chain broke, its sharp edge cutting a bloody line across my neck. I hurled the necklace, still warm with my body heat and blood, hard against his chest. “Take it! Now get the hell out!”

Lily’s POV The necklace struck Payton’s chest, then fell to the ground with a crisp sound. Payton looked down at the necklace on the ground, then at the blood seeping from my neck, an extremely complex emotion flashing in his eyes. He instinctively reached out, wanting to touch my wound. “Lily, you’re insane…” I violently slapped his hand away, my gaze cold as ice. “Payton, take your things and get out of my sight.” I didn’t look at him again. I turned and walked into the dim stairwell. Only after closing the door did I slide powerlessly to the floor, covering my neck, letting tears flow. That necklace wasn’t just his proposal token to me. It was the only thing that could give me strength during countless high-altitude descents. Now, even this last bit of warmth had been personally stripped away by him. The next day, photos of Sophia wearing that “Heart of the Sun” on the red carpet dominated all entertainment news headlines. The caption read: “Limited edition blue diamond gifted to beauty, Payton heir and Sophia’s relationship going strong.” I turned off my phone, forcing myself to focus on the tactical board in front of me. The World Championship was about to begin. I had no time to heal my wounds. “Miss Lily, your shoulder…” Shay looked at my trembling hand with concern written all over her face. “Give me a nerve block injection.” I instructed the team doctor expressionlessly. The doctor frowned tightly. “Lily, are you insane? If you get another nerve block with this injury, you might never be able to lift your arm again!” “It’s fine.” I raised my head, my eyes resolute. “I must win this competition.” If I won, I could completely repay my debt to the Payton family. If I won, I could completely leave Payton. The moment the nerve block entered the joint cavity, the pain nearly made me bite through my teeth. The World Championship was held in Switzerland. The snow winds of the Alps were bone-chillingly cold. I stood at the helicopter cabin door, looking down at the continuous snow peaks below, and took a deep breath. I leaped, like a bird, diving into the vast whiteness. Wind roared in my ears. I endured the severe pain in my shoulder, precisely controlling my posture, completing one high-difficulty maneuver after another. Opening the chute, gliding, precision landing. When both my feet landed steadily on the bullseye, thunderous applause erupted throughout the venue. I won. I’d won this gold medal with the highest value, and also completed the task Claire had assigned. On the day I returned home, the airport was filled with my fans and media. Wearing sunglasses, I struggled to make my way out under security escort. Suddenly, a commotion erupted in the crowd. “It’s Mr. Payton! Mr. Payton came to pick her up!” Payton wore a black haute couture suit, holding a large bouquet of bright red roses, striding toward me. Media camera flashes went crazy, trying to capture this touching scene. Payton walked up to me, handed me the roses, his eyes so tender they seemed to drip water. “Darling, congratulations. I knew you could do it.” He called me “darling.” He hadn’t used that term in three years. I didn’t take the flowers. I just looked at him coldly. “Mr. Payton, don’t put on an act here. I just finished competing. I’m very tired.” The smile on Payton’s face froze. He stepped forward, trying to put his arm around my shoulder. “Stop making a scene. So many media are watching. I’ve already made reservations at a restaurant to celebrate for you.” I dodged his touch, my voice not loud but clear enough for the surrounding media to hear. “Mr. Payton, your fiancée Miss Sophia is still waiting for you. You’ve given the flowers to the wrong person.” As soon as I said this, the entire venue erupted in shock. Payton’s expression instantly darkened. He said angrily, “Lily, do you have to make a scene at a time like this?” “What did you say?” I laughed coldly. “Payton, you’re using the championship I risked my life for to advertise your company, then you turn around and act affectionate toward me. Don’t you find that disgusting?” I didn’t acknowledge his ugly expression again. I walked straight through the crowd and got in the car. The moment the car door closed, I saw Payton violently hurl that bouquet of roses to the ground. When I returned to the apartment, the first thing I did was print out divorce papers. I signed my name on them, then put them in an envelope and mailed them to Payton. I wanted nothing. I only wanted freedom.

Lily’s POV Three days after I mailed the divorce papers, Payton didn’t respond. Instead, Sophia posted a photo of herself trying on wedding dresses on social media. The caption: “Seven years of feelings, not as good as one grand wedding. Looking forward to next month’s wedding.” Looking at that post, I had no reaction. Seven years. The length of my marriage to Payton was also exactly seven years. Today was our seventh wedding anniversary. In previous years on this day, no matter how busy he was, he would cancel all social engagements to spend time with me. But today, he was accompanying another woman trying on wedding dresses. In the evening, someone knocked on the apartment door. I opened it to find a drunk Payton. His tie was loosened, his eyes reddened, staring hard at me. “Lily, how dare you?” He shoved me aside, stumbled into the room, and threw the crumpled divorce agreement on the table. “Giving up all marital assets? Do you think that makes you noble?” I closed the door, coldly watching him lose control. “I’ve fulfilled my contract obligations. I don’t want Payton Corporation’s sponsorship anymore either. Payton, I don’t owe you anything.” “What did you say?” He whirled around, grabbed my chin in a vice grip, the force almost crushing my bones. “Lily, you owe me a life! I saved your mother’s life! You think you can leave me?” I was forced to look up at this face I’d once been so infatuated with. “Oh? Do you want me to give my life back to you?” Payton seemed stung by the deathly stillness in my eyes. He suddenly released me, irritably loosening his tie. “Take back the agreement. I can pretend this never happened.” His tone softened somewhat, carrying arrogance. “Sophia’s wedding is just for show. She needs a wedding to solidify her status in the entertainment industry. You’re still my wife.” I could hardly believe my ears. “Payton, are you insane? You want me to watch you hold a wedding with another woman, and then I’m still supposed to continue being Mrs. Payton?” “What do you want? Money? Resources? I can give you anything!” He shouted loudly. “Lily, don’t be too greedy! You’re flying around in the sky every day. How would you have time to take care of home? Sophia can provide me happiness that you can’t!” “Happiness?” I chewed on this word, feeling utterly desolate. “When I was getting nerve block injections to skydive for your company, nearly dying on that snowy mountain, you were helping her pick out necklaces. When I was being cyberbullied across the internet because of your coercion, you were helping her try on wedding dresses.” “Payton, you don’t want happiness. You just need an obedient pet and a good employee who can make money for you!” Slap! The crisp sound of the slap echoed in the small apartment. Payton’s hand hung in mid-air, trembling slightly. I turned my head to the side. My cheek hurt badly. I tasted blood at the corner of my mouth. This was the first time he’d hit me. The air was deathly silent. “Lily… I…” Payton seemed to realize what he’d done. Panic flashed in his eyes as he tried to reach for me. I stepped back, avoiding his touch. “Payton, consider this slap the last bit of gratitude I’m repaying you.” I pointed at the door, my voice utterly devoid of warmth. “Please leave my home immediately.” Payton stood in place, his chest heaving violently. He looked at me. Ultimately saying nothing, he turned and slammed the door as he left. The next day, I contacted a lawyer and formally filed for divorce with the court. Since he wasn’t willing to divorce by agreement, we’d go through legal procedures. Just as I was preparing to go to the law firm, I received a call from my coach. “Lily, something’s happened! The training facility’s property rights were transferred by Payton Corporation. The new owner is demanding we all move out within three days!” My head buzzed. That facility stood on the last piece of land my mother had left me. Later, to raise training funds, I’d mortgaged this land to Payton Corporation. Payton had once promised me that as long as I won the World Championship, he’d return the facility’s property rights to me. He’d broken his promise. “Who’s the new owner?” I asked, suppressing my fury. “It’s… it’s Sebastian.” All the blood in my body instantly froze. Sebastian, Sophia’s father. He was also the man who’d scammed my mother out of all her money years ago, causing her heart attack and ultimately her death! Payton had actually given my mother’s memento to my enemy!

Lily’s POV I don’t know how I rushed to Payton Corporation’s building. Security tried to stop me. I shoved them aside. Eyes red, like a cornered beast, I kicked open Payton’s office door. Inside the office, Payton sat on the wide leather sofa. Sophia leaned against him, holding a document, laughing happily. That document was the property rights transfer for the facility. Seeing me burst in, Sophia cried out in alarm and shrank into Payton’s embrace. “Miss Lily, why are you here…” She looked at me timidly, like a frightened little rabbit. Payton’s expression darkened. He shielded Sophia behind him, looking at me coldly. “Lily, what are you doing? This is the office!” I stared hard at the document in his hands, my voice trembling with extreme anger. “Payton, you gave the facility to Sebastian?” Payton frowned, his tone very impatient. “It’s just a broken-down facility. Sophia’s father wants to invest in extreme sports. I saw that land was sitting empty, so I transferred it to him. If you want one, I’ll buy you ten better ones.” “Broken-down facility?” I laughed miserably, tears finally bursting forth. “Payton, that’s what you promised to return to me! That’s the only thing my mother left me!” “Lily, stop making a scene.” Payton stood up, looking down at me from above. “Your mother’s been dead for so many years. What’s the use of keeping a piece of land? Sophia’s father is a businessman. That land can only achieve maximum value in his hands.” “Businessman?” I pointed at Sophia, questioning him. “Do you know what kind of person Sebastian is? He scammed my mother out of all her money years ago! He’s the murderer who killed my mother!” Sophia’s face paled. She immediately burst into tears. “Miss Lily, you can’t slander my father just because you’re jealous of me! My father has always done honest business. How could he possibly scam anyone…” “Shut up!” I roared. “Stop!” Payton suddenly slammed a document on the desk, making a huge noise. He walked up to me, his eyes utterly devoid of warmth. “Lily, you’re becoming more and more disgusting. I know better than you what kind of person Sophia’s father is.You could fabricate such lies just to take over that land?” He looked at me with eyes full of disappointment and disgust. “You used to be jealous of Sophia, but at least you were honest. Now? You’re like a lunatic spouting lies!” Looking at him, my heart shattered completely into dust. He didn’t believe me. He’d rather believe a con artist’s daughter than his wife of seven years. “Payton, I’m asking you one last time.” I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. “Give me back the facility, and we’ll have nothing to do with each other ever again.” “Impossible.” He refused without hesitation. “I already promised Sophia. It’s a gift for her father.” A gift. He was giving my mother’s memento to the enemy who killed her. “Fine.” I nodded, wiped away my tears, and straightened my spine. “Payton, you’re going to regret this.” I turned and walked out of the office without looking back. I didn’t return to the apartment. Instead, I went straight to the law firm. “Mr. Zhang, help me investigate all of Sebastian’s financial transactions over the years, and find evidence of the fraud he committed against my mother back then.” I slammed a bank card on the table. “This is all my money.” As I left the law firm, I got a call from Old Lee. “Lily, the facility… Sebastian brought people to demolish the buildings!” I rushed to the facility like a madwoman. Bulldozers were roaring. The row of trees my mother had planted with her own hands had already been uprooted. Sebastian stood to the side, smoking a cigar, looking smug. “Stop! Everyone stop!” I rushed forward, trying to block the bulldozers. “Well, well, if it isn’t Miss Lily?” Sebastian exhaled a puff of smoke, looking at me with a smug grin. “What’s wrong? Didn’t Mr. Payton tell you this land is mine now?” “Sebastian, you bastard! Give me back the land!” My eyes were bloodshot as I lunged at him, trying to attack him. Several security guards immediately stepped forward and pinned me to the ground. The rough gravel scraped my cheeks. I struggled desperately, but it was useless. “Demolish it!” Sebastian waved his hand. I watched as the bulldozers knocked down the training tower, watched as those buildings that held countless hours of my sweat and memories turned to rubble. My heart died along with those ruins.

Lily’s POV Through the clouds of dust, the security guards tossed me to the roadside like garbage. My knees and elbows were scraped raw, blood mixed with dirt running down. I watched Sebastian drive away in his luxury car, laughing, watched the bulldozers crush the last traces of my mother. I didn’t cry. I’d run out of tears yesterday. I dragged my stiff body back to that cramped apartment, step by step. I opened my laptop and began organizing all the commercial endorsements and competition prize money I’d earned for Payton Corporation over the years. Payton thought I was just an athlete who could only skydive, but he forgot that over these seven years, to help him solidify Payton Corporation’s market share in the sports industry, I’d been exposed to many core confidential matters. If Sebastian dared to take over the facility, he would definitely use Payton Corporation’s resources for money laundering and illegal financing. I dialed an encrypted number. “Help me check Sebastian’s recent fund flows, especially any connections with Payton Corporation’s overseas accounts.” A low male voice came from the other end. “Lily, you’re finally willing to contact me.” That person was Jace Payton. Payton’s half-brother, the child of the Payton family who’d always been exiled abroad. He was also the one who, years ago in that rainstorm, had actually paid the first installment of my mother’s surgery fees. But later Payton appeared, forcefully took over everything, drove Jace out of the country, and became my “benefactor.” “Jace, help me.” My voice was hoarse. “Alright. Three days.” Jace didn’t ask a single question and hung up directly. For those three days, I didn’t leave the apartment. Payton didn’t look for me either. My phone was filled with news about Sophia and Payton preparing their wedding of the century. On the third night, Jace sent me an encrypted email. Inside was not only evidence of Sebastian using the facility for money laundering, but also evidence of Sophia’s early involvement in illegal gambling. Most damning of all, Sebastian’s money laundering channel used Payton’s private overseas accounts. Looking at the evidence on the screen, I smirked coldly. Payton, for the sake of a con artist, you personally handed me the knife. I packaged all this evidence and set it to send on a timer. Target: the police department and all major mainstream media outlets. After finishing this, I received a call from Payton. “Tomorrow is Sophia’s wedding. You must attend.” His voice still carried that commanding tone. “In what capacity should I attend?” I asked flatly. “Ex-wife, or the stray dog you kicked out?” Payton was silent for two seconds, his tone tinged with displeasure. “Lily, stop making a scene. There will be a lot of media tomorrow. You attending as Payton Corporation’s spokesperson will dispel rumors that we’re on bad terms. As long as you cooperate, I’ll compensate you double for the facility’s loss.” “Compensation?” I laughed lightly. “Payton, some things once broken can never be fixed.” “Lily! What exactly do you want!” He finally lost his patience. “I’m warning you, if you dare not show up tomorrow, or if you dare cause trouble at the wedding, I guarantee you’ll never be able to stay in the skydiving world!” “Fine, I’ll go.” I calmly hung up. I would give them a wedding gift they’d never forget. The next day, the weather was terribly gloomy, strong winds rolling with dark clouds. The wedding of the century was held at an outdoor estate owned by Payton Corporation. I wore a black trench coat with no makeup, my face pale as a ghost. Payton wore a white custom suit. Seeing me, he frowned deeply and strode over. “Why are you wearing this? Didn’t I have someone send you a dress?” “The dress was too dirty. I found it disgusting.” I looked straight into his eyes. Just then, Sophia approached in a trailing wedding dress, supported by Sebastian. “Miss Lily, you came.” Sophia smiled happily, showing off as she touched the blue diamond necklace around her neck. I looked at this revolting father and daughter, then at Payton standing beside them, his eyes fixed on Sophia. “Yes, past matters should be completely resolved today.” I raised my wrist and checked the time. Ten o’clock sharp. The time the scheduled email was set to go out. Almost simultaneously, piercing sirens suddenly sounded outside the estate. Over a dozen police cars roared up, directly breaking through the estate gates. Several police officers strode up to them. “Sebastian, you’re suspected of massive fraud and illegal money laundering. Please come with us. Mr. Payton, your private accounts are suspected of involvement in international money laundering. Please cooperate with our investigation.” Cold handcuffs were directly clamped onto Sebastian’s and Payton’s wrists. Sophia screamed and collapsed to the ground in fright. Payton looked at the handcuffs on his wrists in shock, then suddenly turned to look at me. “Lily… was this you?” His voice was trembling. I stood in place, looking at his pathetic state, not a ripple of emotion in my heart. “Happy wedding, Mr. Payton.” I smiled slightly and turned to walk into the strong wind.

Lily’s POV The police cars roared away. The originally lavish wedding of the century instantly became a farce. I didn’t look back once. I walked straight out of the estate. The wind grew stronger and dense raindrops began to fall from the sky. I drove to the wilderness skydiving facility in the suburbs. Today would be my last jump. I wanted to leave all the Payton family’s taint from these seven years in the wind. When I reached the facility, heavy rain had already fallen. The meteorological station issued a thunderstorm warning. Skydiving in this weather was tantamount to suicide. But I didn’t care. I put on that pure black skydiving suit without any sponsor logos and shouldered my original old parachute pack. The helicopter pilot gripped the cabin door tightly. “Lily, you’re crazy! In this weather, if you encounter strong wind shear, the chute won’t open at all!” “Let me fly once.” I looked at him, my eyes as hollow as a dry well. “Just this once. If I don’t jump, I’ll suffocate.” The helicopter climbed with difficulty through the wind and rain. I sat by the cabin door, looking down at the city shrouded in dark clouds and rainstorm. My phone vibrated frantically in its waterproof bag. It was Payton’s number. He must have been released on bail. I pressed the answer button. “Lily! Where are you!” On the other end, Payton’s roar almost pierced through the wind and rain. “You dared to give that evidence to the police! Do you know how much Payton Corporation’s stock price dropped today!” “Isn’t this what you wanted?” Facing the violent wind pouring into the cabin, my voice was oddly calm. “You broke the law for Sophia’s sake. I just helped you wake up.” “Come back right now! Tell the media that evidence was forged by you! Otherwise, I’ll make sure you never touch a parachute again in your life!” “Payton.” I interrupted his ranting. “Do you remember what you said to me seven years ago? You said I belonged to the sky, that I shouldn’t be held back by mud. But these seven years, you personally dragged me into the filthiest swamp.” “What do you mean? Lily, don’t change the subject!” “Payton, let’s divorce. I’ve already signed the agreement and mailed it to your lawyer.” “No way! You can’t just leave me, Lily. You owe me…” “I owe you nothing!” I screamed into the phone. “I paid for my mother’s life with seven years of my youth. With all my championships. I even got revenge for the facility. Payton, after today, we’re done. Forever.” I violently threw my phone out of the cabin, watching it tumble through the air, finally disappearing into the rainstorm. “Open the door!” The cabin door opened. The violent wind instantly enveloped me. Without a moment’s hesitation, I leaped into that pitch-black thunderstorm. The moment the weightlessness hit, I closed my eyes. My body tumbled violently in the strong air currents, completely losing control. I didn’t pull the main chute. Memories of these seven years flashed through my mind. The altimeter was frantically alarming: 1000 meters… 800 meters… 500 meters… Just as I was about to give up struggling and let myself fall, a dark shadow suddenly swept down from above at high speed, breaking through the rain curtain, precisely grabbing my reserve chute ripcord. “Bang!” The reserve chute was forcibly deployed. The massive pull made my vision go black, my shoulder sending tearing pain. Two bodies collided violently in the strong wind. I barely opened my eyes. Through my blurred goggles, I saw a pair of deep, anxious eyes. It was Jace. He’d actually jumped down after me. “Lily! Do you have a death wish!” He roared at me through the wind and rain, holding me tightly, using his own body to shield me from the raging wind. We glided with difficulty through the strong wind, ultimately deviating from the landing point and crashing heavily into a muddy forest. The massive impact made me completely lose consciousness. When I woke up again, I was lying in a hospital bed. My right shoulder was in a thick cast. The hospital room door opened. Jace wore a black shirt, his face somewhat pale, his left arm also wrapped in bandages. Seeing me awake, joy flashed in his eyes. He quickly walked to the bedside. “Lily, you’re finally awake.” I looked at him, my voice hoarse. “Why… did you jump after me?” “Because I can’t lose you again.” Jace gripped my uninjured left hand tightly, his gaze intense and stubborn. “Seven years ago, I was one step too late and let Payton take you away. You suffered for seven years. This time, I absolutely won’t let go.” I was stunned, my eyes gradually reddening. Just then, the hospital room door was violently kicked open. Payton charged in, his eyes bloodshot like a crazed beast. When he saw Jace holding my hand, his rationality seemed to completely snap. “Jace! Let go of her!” Payton rushed over and grabbed Jace’s collar. “You dare touch my woman!” Jace sneered and pushed him away. “Your woman? Payton, do you deserve that?” He pulled out a stamped document from his pocket and threw it in Payton’s face. “Look carefully. The court has officially accepted the divorce lawsuit. From now on, Lily has nothing to do with you.” Payton stared at the document, his face deathly pale. He turned to look at me, his voice trembling with a hint of panic. “Lily… is this true?” I looked at him, my gaze as calm as if looking at a stranger. “Mr. Payton, please leave now. I need to rest.”

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