A muffled voice crackled through the bus speakers, announcing the next stop. 1. **Rule number one:** Never give up your seat to someone holding a baby. Break this, and you’ll regret it forever. 2. **Rule number two:** If you accidentally break Rule One, you can’t refuse anything the woman with the baby asks. Refuse, and you’ll die. 3. **Rule number three:** Don’t easily trust people in black and white checkered shirts. What they say could be true, or it could be a lie. 4. **Rule number four:** Absolutely never trust people in red clothes. See red, look down. Avoid eye contact at all costs. They are devils, masters of manipulation. 5. **Don’t… get off… never… get off at…** “Static crackled… then silence.” The bus pulled to a stop. A woman, cradling a baby, stepped inside. The bus speakers blared again. “Westside Lane One, now arriving. Please exit through the rear door.” *Tap-tap-tap…* The woman with the baby paused right in front of me. My sleepy haze instantly evaporated. I was just about to stand up and offer my seat. Suddenly, a piercing, grating sound ripped through the bus. **【1. NEVER give up your seat to a woman holding a baby!】** **【NEVER give up your seat to a woman holding a baby!】** **【NEVER give up your seat to a woman holding a baby, or you’ll regret it forever!】** The static-filled voice grew sharper, more insistent with each repetition. I clapped my hands over my ears, my heart pounding, and glanced around at the other passengers. They looked like they hadn’t heard a thing. This sound… it felt like only I could hear it. What the hell was going on? Was I hallucinating? Just as I was brushing it off, the bus speakers flared to life again, the voice still only audible to me. **【Bus Survival Rules】** **【1. Remember, never give up your seat to a woman holding a baby. Break this, and you’ll regret it forever.】** **【2. If you accidentally break Rule One, you can’t refuse anything the woman with the baby asks. Refuse, and you’ll die.】** **【3. Don’t easily trust people in black and white checkered shirts. What they say could be true, or it could be a lie.】** **【4. Absolutely never trust people in red clothes. See red, look down. Avoid eye contact at all costs. They are devils, masters of manipulation.】** **【5. Get off at the final stop. Never, ever get off at any stop in between, no matter what you see or hear.】** **【6. If you accidentally break any of these forbidden rules, scream for the driver’s help! Remember, you only get ONE chance!】** The woman with the baby stood right in front of me. Give up the seat or… don’t? Who was I supposed to believe? Giving up my seat was the right thing to do, a gesture of kindness. Not doing it would make my conscience scream. But if I did give up my seat, what exactly would happen that I’d regret forever?

I was in the very front of the bus. The front seats faced each other. Three blue seats on the left, three blue seats on the right. Every seat was taken. My seat was right behind the driver. Mr. Thorne kept urging the newly boarded passengers to move to the back. But the woman with the baby just stood there, motionless, in front of me.

I kept my head down, pretending not to notice her. Those narrow, pointed blue embroidered shoes remained firmly in my line of sight, unwavering. Wait a second! Aren’t those… the kind you only see in old movies, meant for the dead? Burial shoes? The atmosphere quickly turned eerie. My palms were slick with sweat. Mr. Thorne barked, “Someone give up their seat for the lady with the baby!” My head was still bowed, my hands clammy. In the middle of the bus, there were yellow seats marked for priority seating. Why wasn’t she waiting there for someone else to offer their seat? Why *me*? Why was she specifically standing in front of me?

The woman with the baby swayed unsteadily in the aisle, looking ready to collapse from exhaustion. Everyone stared at her and the poor baby in her arms, their gazes burning into me, full of disgust and anger. As Mr. Thorne’s urging intensified, and under the torrent of condemning glares from the other passengers, it felt like I was being grilled alive, turning over a roaring fire. I, the one who wouldn’t give up her seat, had become the villain everyone hated. My heart pounded like a drum. Part of me worried about what would happen if I gave up the seat, while the other part was tormented by agonizing guilt. Someone, save me. I looked at the guy sitting to my left. His blue athletic jacket had, at some point, changed into a black and white checkered shirt. His features began to distort under my gaze, twisting into a pixelated mess, like a glitch in a video game. Then, a crisp voice suddenly sounded in my ear. **【3. Don’t easily trust people in black and white checkered shirts. What they say could be true, or it could be a lie.】**

My breath hitched. My scalp tingled, every hair standing on end. My neck felt rusted, but I mechanically turned my head to look at the person on my right. She was a heavily pregnant woman, wearing a white maternity dress. A pregnant woman, in white… She had to be good, right? She *had* to be! I was just about to ask her for help. Then, a bizarre, lumpy shape began to press against her taut belly. I saw a tiny fist push out, then a small foot, and slowly, a miniature face appeared on her stomach. The scene suddenly became horrifying. The baby inside her belly became violently agitated. It tore through her round belly. Blood gushed out like a fountain, instantly soaking her white dress a horrifying crimson. A tiny, bloody, wrinkled baby crawled out from between her legs, dragging a long, slimy umbilical cord. It scrabbled across the floor, leaving a glistening trail of blood. It was sickening. I felt bile rise in my throat. She had turned into someone wearing red clothes. And at that very moment, I was staring right at her. **【4. Absolutely never trust people in red clothes. See red, look down. Avoid eye contact at all costs. They are devils, masters of manipulation.】**

This was insane! Everything was insane! I wanted off! I needed to escape this bus! I shoved past the other passengers, desperately hammering on the back door. “Open up! I need to get off! Open the door!” “I’m getting off!” “Let me out!” I screamed like a madwoman. The bus speakers announced, “Westside Lane Two, now arriving. Please exit through the rear door.” With a hiss, the door opened. Through a gap in the crowd, I saw Mr. Thorne turn to look at me. His eyes were a mix of pain, sadness, helplessness, and desperate pleading. I couldn’t take it anymore. I plunged off the bus without a second thought. The moment my feet hit the asphalt, a wave of relief washed over me. I looked back. The bus full of passengers watched me with innocent eyes. As the door closed and the bus began to move again, I saw chilling, knowing smiles spread across each of their faces through the window. At that moment, I didn’t understand why they were smiling. Not until a sharp pain shot through my ankle. I looked down. A skeletal hand, bits of decaying flesh clinging to it, crawling with maggots and glistening with green slime, was clamped tightly around my ankle. The asphalt beneath me began to crack and crumble, transforming into a churning sea of blood. Darkness enveloped everything. Thousands upon thousands of ghostly hands reached for me. They dragged my ankle, pulling me down into the bloody abyss. The only light in the darkness was the bus’s tail lights. In that moment, something clicked. I thrashed wildly, stretching my hand out, trying to claw my way back onto the bus. But more and more ghostly hands grabbed me. The bus slowly drove out of sight, and I was dragged down into hell.

I regretted so much not following those rules. I regretted it so, so much… Suddenly, a cacophony of voices reached my ears. “Stop pretending to be asleep! Can’t you see she’s holding a baby? Give her your seat!” “Seriously! You’re young, how can you be so sleepy? Get up and let her sit!” “Kids these days, no respect for their elders, no sense of decency.” “This generation is doomed! Absolutely hopeless!” … I opened my eyes, looking around. The endless chatter and pointing from the crowd… that’s when I slowly realized that everything I’d just experienced was a dream. But it felt so… terrifyingly real.

I looked at the woman with the baby, swaying unsteadily. I stood up, ready to help her into the seat. Suddenly, I saw Mr. Thorne staring at me, his eyes fixed on me with a chilling glint. My blood ran cold. My breath hitched. The pain in my ankle felt as real as if it were actually there. Cold sweat trickled down my temples. Better safe than sorry. I immediately sat back down. All the passengers on the bus, including the woman with the baby, glared at me with a mix of fury and disbelief. I bit down hard on my teeth, clenched my fists, and stayed silent in my seat. The woman stared intensely at me. Even though I felt like I was about to wet myself, I stared back, refusing to back down.

The woman hadn’t said a word, not one. It was like her eyes were trying to force me to give up my seat. My own gaze firmly screamed, “No way!” She stood there for a while until someone in the crowd finally waved her over. “Please, sit here. You can have my seat.” At this, a faint, chilling smile flickered on the woman’s otherwise impassive face. Holding her baby, and wearing those narrow, pointed blue embroidered shoes, she glided, rather than walked, taking tiny, almost imperceptible steps, swaying slightly as she went. The woman sat down. The young man who’d offered his seat, Alex, stood next to her and smiled reassuringly. Suddenly, the woman turned to him and said, “Thank you. Could you hold my baby for a moment? I need to find something.” Alex, being helpful, took the baby from her arms. I watched him for a long time. Everything seemed perfectly normal. Nothing happened. I suddenly felt so foolish. It was just a seat, what could happen? What was I even so scared of? It must be all the stress from school getting to me, making me hallucinate. I let out a long breath, leaned back in my seat, and decided to rest my eyes. Just two more stops, and I’d be there.

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After showering, I lit a cigarette. Halfway through it, the hotel room door pushed open. I looked at the man in the doorway, startled and panicked. My twenty-eighth john was my husband. I finished my cigarette, stubbed it out, and calmed down. Getting up, I switched the mood lighting to purple. Then, a thought struck me, and I smiled, looking at my husband still standing in the doorway. “Maybe we should change the mood lights, since you’re already here… indulging.” Brandon’s face hardened with rage. He slammed the door shut, stormed over, and clamped his hands around my throat, pinning me to the bed before he slapped me hard. “Chloe Peterson, how *dare* you!” My head swam with stars, but I didn’t resist his furious accusation. Instead, my whole body relaxed, and a laugh bubbled out of me. For three years, they’d called me a shrew, a psycho. I’d almost forgotten. I still had a name. Chloe Peterson. I grew up in a small town. My parents, despite their modest incomes, barely scraped enough together to put me through college. The year I graduated, my parents set me up with Brandon. Brandon was a good catch. Tall, handsome, fair-skinned. His family was well-off, owning a couple of properties, and he was their only child. My mom always said meeting Brandon was like hitting the jackpot – a cosmic gift I’d earned in a past life. I was twenty-two then, Brandon was twenty-four. He was still the young man who’d brave the cold wind to bring me warm coffee and pastries. He’d never dated, and neither had I. Two clueless virgins crashing into each other, yet somehow, we ignited a fierce passion. Soon after, we walked down the aisle. I thought it was the beginning of a blissful life, but it was just the first step into hell. The very night our wedding ended, his family not only confiscated the cash gifts my family had brought but then demanded a dowry from me. I stood my ground, refusing. His mother started wailing. In the midst of the argument, Brandon slapped me. The force of it sent me sprawling to the floor, my mind a blur. That year, I was twenty-three, and two months pregnant. Afterward, I insisted on a divorce. My parents pleaded with me, begging me to forgive Brandon, for the sake of the tiny life inside me. A two-month-old fetus might not be considered a ‘person’ by some, but I could feel its presence, so vividly real. In the end, I softened. I didn’t terminate that little life, and I went back home with Brandon. * “Chloe Peterson, I’ll kill you!” “Kill your cash cow? Would you really dare?” Brandon’s anger intensified, and his grip on my throat tightened. I didn’t fight back, just stared coldly at his face. Under the purple mood lights, his furious face twisted, becoming grotesque, like a devil’s. No, Brandon *was* a devil. “Chloe Peterson, you overestimate yourself! Without you, I’ll find another!” He wasn’t falling for my taunts. He grabbed a pillow and pressed it down hard over my face. The air was instantly sucked out of my lungs. I started to suffocate, a terrible, desperate struggle. Just as I felt I was dying, I heard a rough kicking at the door, followed by chaotic footsteps. “Police!” “Get up! Hands on your head and down on the floor!” The pressure on the pillow vanished, and it puffed back up. I pulled it away, the purple ambient light blurring my vision. “Are you okay?” The officer in uniform was young, looked about twenty-three or twenty-four, and spoke with a gentle voice. I glanced at her outstretched hand but didn’t take it. Instead, I pushed myself up from the bed, tying my loosely opened bathrobe. “Officer, I’m a sex worker. You don’t have to be gentle with me.” Watching Officer Sarah’s startled expression, I smiled, even as my eyes pricked with tears.

When I was twenty-four, I lost the baby and had my uterus removed. I’d never be a mother. In the ICU, my mind was clear, but my body was completely numb, hooked up to various machines. My mom came in and didn’t say a word, just cried. Watching her, I also shed tears, struggling to push out the words, “I want a divorce.” “Child, you can’t leave him!” “You’re… different now.” My mom’s words were veiled, but I understood immediately. A fire of anger surged through me. “It was *them*! They did this to me!” I couldn’t scream; my throat was raw, my voice ragged, but the rage and despair were unmistakable. My mom wiped her tears and squeezed my hand. “This isn’t the time to be stubborn. You’re like this now; if you divorce, who will want you? Your mother knows best, Chloe. I wouldn’t lead you astray. Listen to me. When you get out of the hospital, go back to Brandon and live your life. You’re different now. You need to be even better to Brandon if you want to keep him.” I stared at her face, etched with what looked like concern, and the fury in my chest suddenly dissipated. She squeezed my hand tighter. “Did you hear me? For your sake, we even returned the dowry money to their family! Don’t make us worry anymore!” Her face was plastered with ‘I’m doing this for your own good,’ and as I watched, my tears stopped falling. All I wanted to do was laugh. I guess a woman just *needs* a man in her life, right? * “Young woman, with so many things you could be doing, why *this*? Can’t you live without a man?” The officer questioning me was an older man, maybe in his late forties or early fifties. He clanged his thermos loudly on the table the moment he walked into the interrogation room. I watched him the whole time, and when our gazes met, his filled with disgust. I just curved my lips into a smile. “That’s right. I can’t.” “Do you even realize where you are? Get serious!” Officer Miller wasn’t amused. He picked up his thermos and slammed it down again. I leaned back in my chair, getting as comfortable as I could. “Officer, I’m just answering your question. I *am* serious.” He looked about to slam the thermos down again when a younger officer called him out. I glanced over. The young officer had a good build, but I didn’t get a clear look at his face. Soon after, the young officer entered and took Officer Miller’s place. My gaze traveled from his long legs upwards, finally reaching his face. The moment I recognized him, I panicked, lowering my head and straightening up awkwardly. The handcuffs on my wrists glinted, and I frantically clasped my hands together to hide them. Ryan Stone. How could it be him? How could it be *him*?! * “Do you know who that is?” It was my freshman year of college. I was stumbling through my introduction during student government club tryouts when I heard the voice. I looked up, following the gazes of the other students. I noticed the young man sitting in the middle. He wore a dark trench coat, his posture casual, almost lazy, yet he exuded a cool indifference. When his eyes met mine, I panicked, looking down and shaking my head. I’d only been enrolled for a month; I barely knew my roommates. “That’s Ryan, our club president. You don’t know him?” “Don’t tease her! Hey, I’ve got a question for you: if Ryan broke a rule and you caught him, would you report it?” As the question hung in the air, someone else chimed in, egging me on. My mind went blank, but I nodded. “Yes. I’d report him.” They all laughed. I kept my head down, my palms sweating from nerves.

“Chloe Peterson.” Ryan’s voice was low and magnetic. I nervously looked up, met his gaze, and then quickly looked away. “She’ll do. She’s in.” “She’ll *do*? What do you mean?” I listened to the questioning, nervous but also eager for Ryan’s answer. “More straightforward than any of you.” I froze for a moment. I’d always been labeled ‘honest,’ but this was the first time anyone had ever called me ‘straightforward.’ I looked up, but Ryan had already gotten up. All I saw was his retreating back in the dark coat. * “Chloe Peterson.” Ryan’s voice was still low and magnetic, but his tone was strictly official. My gaze had nowhere to land, so it settled on my red painted nails. “Your husband claims he didn’t know you were prostituting yourself. He said he lashed out because he blacked out with rage. Do you agree with this statement?” I clenched my hands, my body trembling slightly before completely slumping, like a puddle, a deflated rag doll in the chair. “He knew. He was trying to kill me.” I looked up, but I didn’t have the courage to meet Ryan’s eyes. I just stared at the hand holding his pen. His hands were still as beautiful as I remembered. My resolve crumpled, and I shifted my gaze away from his hands. “He forced me into prostitution.” “Elaborate.” Ryan didn’t question me, which surprised me. Even my own parents didn’t believe me; they even cut ties with me. “I had a hysterectomy.” “Because of an infection from the stillbirth.” “My baby was just 97 days from being born.” I spoke with difficulty, my throat raw. As my emotions teetered on the edge of breaking, a cup of water appeared before me. The hand holding the cup had prominent knuckles. I looked up. My eyes were full of tears, and the overhead lights blurred through them, making everything swim, even Ryan, standing before me, appeared to have a double. Perhaps it was that blurred vision that gave me the courage not to look away. “They said since I couldn’t bear a son for their lineage, couldn’t give the ‘family name’ an heir, then I should earn money for their family instead.” “They forced me into prostitution.” Maybe my gaze made Ryan uncomfortable; he deliberately looked away, walked back, and sat down. “We will investigate and verify your claims. If they are true, we will prosecute to the fullest extent of the law and get you justice.” Hearing his official tone, I lowered my head, no longer trying to hide my handcuffed hands. The silver surface reflected my face, heavily made up, like a ghost. I scoffed at myself. I couldn’t even remember what my face looked like without makeup in college, let alone Ryan. “Why did the baby… become stillborn?” Ryan’s voice had softened, but his question ignited my emotions. My body began to tremble uncontrollably. “They made me drink something.” “What kind of ‘something’?” Seeing the confused expression on Ryan’s face, my reason took control of my emotions, and my body stopped trembling. “Officer Ryan, do you believe in karma? In poetic justice?” Ryan paused, then his expression immediately turned serious. “I believe in the fairness and justice of the law.” I didn’t speak, just smiled. No wonder he switched schools and majors back then. But, is there any justice or fairness for *women* in this world? * “A girl? How could it be a *girl*?!” “You worthless jinx! You can’t even give birth to a son! What good are you anyway?!” When I was three months pregnant, my mother-in-law used every trick in the book to find out the baby’s gender from the doctor. Right outside the OB/GYN office, she pointed her finger in my face and screamed at me. It was a weekend, and the clinic was crowded. Everyone was staring. My face burned with shame. I tugged at my mother-in-law’s sleeve, trying to make her stop, but she just raised her hand and slapped me across the face.

“You’re a good-for-nothing, and you’re having another good-for-nothing! Don’t touch me! Such a jinx!” “What did our family ever do to deserve a woman like you?!” I covered my face, gritting my teeth, refusing to let the tears fall in front of everyone. “What are you standing there for? Aren’t you embarrassed enough? Get your worthless self home!” “I can’t stand the sight of you! Always that dead-fish face, it’s bad luck!” My mother-in-law ranted and raved, not waiting for me, and took a cab home. Penniless, I had to walk. By the time I got home, Brandon was already home from work. The moment he saw me, his face was a mask of irritation and disgust. “Where have you been so late? No dinner made.” “I worked all day and come home to no hot meal! What am I keeping you for?!” I hadn’t even had a chance to speak when Brandon grabbed my hair and dragged me into the kitchen, pressing my head against the counter. He picked up a cleaver and slammed it onto the cutting board, holding it menacingly close to my face. “If I don’t get dinner when I get home, I’ll chop your head off!” I shielded my stomach, staring at my reflection in the blade, biting my lip hard to hold back my tears. Out of the corner of my eye, Brandon’s parents sat in the living room, casually watching TV as if nothing was happening. This went on until I was four months pregnant. Just as I was about to go numb, my mother-in-law fell ill. My parents, with forced smiles, managed to get her a bed at one of the city’s top hospitals. My mom said that was all they could do for me. I wanted out, but my mom just told me I couldn’t escape anymore, not with a baby on the way. If marriage was a cage trapping me, then this child was the lock on that cage. After my mother-in-law recovered, her attitude towards me changed. Even my father-in-law and Brandon became kinder. When I was five months pregnant, my mother-in-law started preparing various nourishing soups for me. At the time, I truly believed the dark clouds had finally parted, until that night she brought me a bowl of special herbal tea, supposedly for the baby’s health.

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A low whimpering sound reached my ears from a secluded room in the warehouse. I gestured for my subordinate to pull open the door. The sight inside made my pupils shrink. *This* was the shipment! More than twenty women, barely clothed, were huddled together, their eyes wide with terror, fixed on me. Their hair was matted and wild, and their faces and bodies were bruised to varying degrees. The worst off lay motionless on the ground, silenced forever, fresh marks of brutal torture still marring her body. Seeing this, I remembered what Duke had called “handling.” A shiver of ice crawled down my spine, despite the summer air. My name is Asher. My fiancée, Skylar, and I had known each other for over a decade, practically growing up together. My second year of college, I confessed my feelings to her, promising to marry her, to love her, to make her happy for the rest of her life. At twenty-four, after a beautiful engagement ceremony, we officially tied the knot. That night, she gave me everything. I just held her close, listening to her murmur “I love you” over and over again. At twenty-five, she went on a trip with her friends, while I was buried under work, scrambling to get a company plan off the ground. That was the biggest regret of my life. A week after she left, I lost contact. Soon, more than forty-eight hours passed. Frantic, I contacted the local police department. I sent them the little information I had, and they told me to wait for news. Three days later, I couldn’t bear it anymore. I bought a flight to where she’d been traveling. I had barely stepped off the plane when my phone rang. It was the police. My eyes were fixed, unseeing, on the computer screen. In the surveillance footage, she was being dragged into a van by several men. That had been five full days ago. The officer tried to calm me, telling me not to worry, that they were investigating the matter thoroughly and had already identified the van. His words offered a small flicker of relief. A week passed. I received a message from her phone. It was a video. She was naked, violated by a group of men, trapped in a dimly lit room, her body and face a canvas of wounds. A deafening roar filled my head, and my legs gave out, sending me crashing to the floor. My face contorted in agony, but my eyes remained glued to the heartbreaking scene. Passersby recoiled from my distraught state, hurrying away. I burned their faces into my memory, etching them deeper than my own name. I didn’t go back to the police. Nor did I contact anyone else. I spent a fortune, but finally bought the information I craved. I quit my job, leaving my family and friends without a word. Alone, I headed for the borderlands.

This year marks my third year in the borderlands. Looking at the man and woman kneeling on the ground, I knew I was about to get blood on my hands again. I hated the feeling. Duke had ordered me to ‘handle’ this man and woman. Apparently, their only crime was having an affair. I didn’t bother to think twice. The faster it was done, the better. I dealt with the man quickly and cleanly. But the woman stared at me with wide, tear-filled eyes. Perhaps her tears reminded me of Skylar. In the end, I let her go. The woman whispered a trembling “thank you.” My heart remained unmoved. I didn’t look at her, just walked back to my room. I’d caught a chill last night, and my head felt heavy. I lit a cigarette, leaving the lights off, just sitting there, silently gazing out the window. This was a lawless place, home to the world’s most vicious criminals and its poorest people. I lived in this environment, day in and day out. I almost forgot why I joined this outfit in the first place… No! I wouldn’t forget! Never! I narrowed my eyes. The nicotine stimulated my nerves, making me feel much clearer. My phone vibrated on the table. I picked it up and put it to my ear. “Sterling wants to see you.” Just a few words, but I couldn’t help but tremble. I hung up the phone and laughed, a rush of excitement. The head of the syndicate wanted to see me. The ruthless leader who dealt in all kinds of dark trades, whose hands were stained with countless lives! I was escorted into his office, keeping my head down. The man stood there, his back to me. His corpulent frame, surprisingly, still exuded a formidable presence. He was the most vicious gangster in this dark territory. He turned, waving a hand. Immediately, two men rushed forward and attacked me. Heavy blows landed on my gut. Even with years of training, my body still struggled to cope. My abdomen cramped with sharp pains, and I felt something clawing its way up my throat. I couldn’t help but cough twice, blood mixed with bile splattered across the floor. Sterling raised a hand, and the two men stopped beating me. He walked toward me, step by step. “Do you know why I called you here?” His voice was thick, muffled. I said nothing, just glanced at the corner. A woman was kneeling there. It was the same woman I’d let go earlier that evening. I smiled, looking directly at Sterling. I knew he wouldn’t kill me. “You’re smart. Different from the others.” Sterling took a drag from his cigarette, then tossed a towel at my face. “But being too smart isn’t always a good thing.” Sterling turned and waved his hand, signaling that I could leave. Still silent, I gave him a slight bow, then exited the room. Standing in the hallway, I thought for a moment. Maybe I should have just killed him then. I stood there, staring at the gun in my hand, lost in thought.

Three days had passed since I met with Sterling. I hadn’t left my room. I just sat there, waiting quietly. On the fourth day, Duke knocked on my door. He walked in, carrying a bottle of whiskey and some food. Duke was my first boss when I joined the syndicate, essentially a crew chief, as they called it. Over the years, Duke had cleared countless obstacles for Sterling, earning his coveted position as a ‘manager’ within the organization. “Duke.” I stood up to greet him, but he waved me back down. He said nothing, just poured the whiskey. The liquor nearly overflowed the glass, and I couldn’t help but murmur a warning. Duke grinned. *Wham!* A glass landed in front of me. I looked up, meeting Duke’s deep gaze. “This drink is to congratulate you. You’ve got a shot at moving up.” My heart was calm, but I feigned surprise. During our casual chat, I gradually learned the situation. The head of the syndicate’s trade division had run off with a massive shipment of goods, defecting to a rival faction. Sterling’s orders were clear: retrieve the merchandise and eliminate the defector. To be honest, Sterling’s approach surprised me a little. Duke seemed to read my thoughts. He’d always held me in high regard. “It’s a good thing you let that woman go. I should have told you she was Sterling’s ‘sister’ – a plant, a test from Sterling himself. But I couldn’t. It was Sterling’s command.” He seemed annoyed as he spoke. If I hadn’t taken the initiative to spare Sterling’s ‘sister,’ I might be talking to a corpse right now. “You should know what to do,” Duke said meaningfully. “Be swift, finish it quickly. If you can’t bring the goods back, destroy them. Save yourself unnecessary trouble.” I nodded, already strategizing in my mind. After a few more drinks and a final warning, Duke left the room. I lay on the bed, my fingers tracing the cool metal of my gun. I didn’t sleep a wink. I was well-acquainted with this kind of mission, and I started preparations first thing in the morning. Even though Caleb had defected to another organization, the shipment hadn’t been moved yet. And among those who followed him, we had our own informers. I read the message, then closed my phone. Caleb was still scheduled to visit the warehouse where the goods were stored this afternoon. It might be his last visit; he planned to move everything today. I got into the van, taking a deep breath to steady myself. Surprisingly, I felt a little nervous. Fortunately, the operation went smoothly. Caleb was taken out almost the moment we stormed the warehouse. Even if we lost a few of our own in the crossfire, their lives meant nothing to me. After clearing the scene, I took two men with me to find the shipment. Duke had told me to destroy the goods if we couldn’t take them. A low whimpering sound reached my ears from a secluded room in the warehouse. I gestured for my subordinate to pull open the door. The sight inside made my pupils shrink. *This* was the shipment! More than twenty women, barely clothed, were huddled together, their eyes wide with terror, fixed on me. Their hair was matted and wild, and their faces and bodies were bruised to varying degrees. The worst off lay motionless on the ground, silenced forever, fresh marks of brutal torture still marring her body. Seeing this, I remembered what Duke had called “handling.” A shiver of ice crawled down my spine, despite the summer air. I remained impassive, deep in thought. The subordinate next to me looked at the women, then at me. Their eyes silently questioned me. A daring plan quietly formed in my mind. I smiled. Then nodded to them both. The two men with me, their eyes gleaming with greedy, depraved intent, seemed to understand my silent cue and moved toward the women. *Bang! Bang!* Without hesitation, I shot them both from behind. They died never knowing why I’d turned on them. Hearing the shots, the remaining few who could still move immediately ran toward me. I gave them no chance, firing several more shots and taking them down. One was lucky, not hit in a vital spot, his face twisted in pain and terror. I squeezed the trigger a few more times; the magazine was empty. I tossed the gun to the ground and pulled out my usual dagger. I plunged the knife into his heart, my expression blank, my eyes as calm as if I were reading a book. A book filled with sin and gore.

I returned to the syndicate, standing before Sterling. I coolly reported the outcome of the operation. Caleb and all those who defected with him were eliminated. The few men I brought with me had also unfortunately perished. As for the shipment, of course, I told them it had all been destroyed. Sterling listened to my loud report, his expression impassive, only a fleeting frown crossing his face at the news of our lost men before he returned to his usual composure. “Not bad.” Sterling just tossed a badge at me. I’d seen that badge before, pinned to the former manager, Caleb. Its meaning was crystal clear. I silently took the badge, then looked up at Sterling. This was just the beginning… I remained impassive. That night, I returned to my new place. My old, cramped room had been replaced by a sprawling, luxurious apartment. It was the standard perk for a manager. Duke still came to see me, giving me a quick rundown of things. Then he pulled a thick wad of cash from his bag. Seeing my eyes widen at the sight of the money, he clapped me on the shoulder, satisfied. Anyone who chose to live this life, to claw their way through this underworld, was chasing the same few things. And I, a seemingly insatiable money-grabber, was exactly the kind of person they thought they could control. Only, he didn’t know that after he left, I threw the entire wad of cash into the trash without a second glance. I only had one purpose for being here. It was the reason I was willing to abandon a comfortable life and a high-paying job to come to this place. They had no idea I was a patient, calculating madman. I took over Caleb’s work, rarely touching the bloody stuff myself. Sitting in front of the computer, staring at the colossal sums of money flowing in and out, the endless invoices, I finally grasped the sheer scale of the syndicate’s operations. They were involved in almost every dark transaction imaginable. I searched through the computer, scrolling through photo after shocking photo, searching. Finally, I found what I was looking for. A beautiful young woman’s photo. Her smile was gentle, like a delicate narcissus. My right hand trembled slightly as I scrolled through the woman’s information. It listed her merchandise number and details. “She’s alive,” a calm female voice said behind me. My hand instinctively shot to my hip, only to be stopped by a pair of delicate, pale hands.

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One year into our marriage. I found out my husband was actually a rich guy. It’s just… he looked exactly like a guy in the financial newspaper. When I confronted him, he just laughed and said, “Lots of people look alike, but not everyone has my eight-pack abs.” “…” Ugh, he was so right. I absolutely *loved* my husband’s eight-pack abs. “Violet.” Rhys’s arms wrapped tightly around my waist, his handsome face buried in my neck. I heard his low chuckle and reached out to push him, but my hand landed right on those solid eight-pack abs. A shock like electricity ran through my palm, my breath hitched, and my heart pounded. “Rhys…” The word slipped from my lips, soft and sweet, my eyes swimming, practically dripping with desire. He lifted his head, bracing himself on either side of me, hovering as he smiled. The slight upturn of his foxy eyes held a hint of raw desire, tinged with red. His thin lips parted, and he lowered his head, kissing mine fiercely, taking charge without a moment’s hesitation. “Good girl, call me Daddy.” … Just like that, I called him Daddy all night long. The next morning, I almost missed work. When I finally dragged myself out of bed, my darling husband was still sprawled out, sound asleep. Ugh, he looked like a god in repose, absolutely stunning. Looks like it was up to me to bring home the bacon. My best friend, Harper, said I was hopelessly gone, and I admit it. Ever since I met Rhys, I’d been a total prisoner of love. “You’re completely wrapped around his finger! That dog Rhys is like some manipulative siren, whispering nonsense in your ear, and you just do whatever he says without a second thought!” Every time I met Harper, she called my husband a dog. I just put up with it. What else could I do? She’s been my best friend since we were kids. “My lunch break is almost over. Can we talk about something else?” I checked the time. This woman had been going on for nearly an hour. Harper sighed, her expression like she was thoroughly disappointed in me. “What is that dog Rhys even thinking, letting you, a woman, go out and earn money while he hides at home sleeping? What’s up with that?” “I’m happy to.” Only I truly know what’s best for me. Rhys has his good points, and others just wouldn’t understand. Rhys and I met completely by chance. As the old saying goes, it was truly meant to be, the best possible arrangement. A year ago, my company had a team-building trip to beautiful Miami Beach. That evening, I was strolling along the shore by myself when I saw a crowd of people gathered, arguing loudly. Right in the middle was Rhys. Under the moonlight, his unfairly perfect face practically glowed like something carved from moonlight, looking awkwardly innocent. His long, slender fingers held a crab claw like it was a piece of art. He was wearing the most ridiculously loud Hawaiian shirt and baggy shorts, but on him, it looked unbelievably stunning. It was love at first sight, and I was completely, hopelessly sunk. Like quicksand, there was no pulling me out. Turns out, poor Rhys hadn’t brought any money for dinner, and the owner thought he was trying to dine and dash. Was there any justice in the world? What’s wrong with a gorgeous person eating a little food? I dug into my own wallet and helped him out. But it hurt for a while because he’d ordered a whole king crab feast. Harper said I was totally bewitched by Rhys. I couldn’t help it. He was too handsome, and I was too much of a sucker for a pretty face. He promised he’d pay me back, but I honestly never expected him to. I was playing the long game. There had to be a reason for us to meet again, right? Then I found out we lived in the same city. Fate is just like that, wonderfully mysterious. Later, we got closer and closer. I felt the time was right to take things to the next level, but then I got nervous and totally butchered my words. “Can we do, friends?”

It was like a sudden clap of thunder; we both just froze. “No, no, no! I mean, can we *be* friends? Not *do*… Why would I say something like that? I…” Ugh, explaining only makes it worse. I was just digging myself deeper. Oh no, I sounded like a pervert! Rhys reached out and took my hand. His palm was large and strong, warm and solid. He looked at me, serious and sincere. “You don’t really know me yet. The truth is, I…” “I know.” I understood his awkwardness. He still hadn’t paid me back for that dinner in Miami. And after that, whenever we went out, I always rushed to pay. Sigh, I guess the heavens are fair. They gave him perfect looks but made his life so… poor. “I’ll support you.” I was serious. More real than pure gold. From the very first moment I saw him, I was utterly captivated. I’m a total sucker for a pretty face, and I guess that means I’m doomed to give my all. Rhys’s eyes widened in surprise. His foxy eyes, usually so subtle, now popped wide open. He probably didn’t expect me to be so direct. Maybe he needed to think about it. It was a big deal, after all. My expression dimmed, and my heart sank. To be honest, I wasn’t rich either. With me, he’d have food and clothes, but it was far from a life of luxury. The next second, my chin was gently lifted, and his soft lips pressed against mine. Between whispered kisses, Rhys chuckled softly. “It’s a deal.” Once we started, there was no stopping us. It was like a fuse had been lit, and we just exploded. The most important thing was how incredibly compatible we were, especially in bed. Those eight-pack abs, in particular, were the death of me. Just being in the same room felt like a commitment, and our eyes meeting was pure intimacy. Every day was hot and fiery. As for going directly to the courthouse to get married later, I swear I wasn’t the one who suggested it. We didn’t have a wedding. We just went out for a nice dinner together the night we got our marriage certificate. The beginning was tough, but the rest was much smoother. Our lives together were sweeter than honey, so happy it made some people green with envy. Like my best friend, Harper. “Did you even listen to a word I said? You’re a great girl, but why are you so clueless? Have you really thought this through? You’re going to support him for life?” Harper scolded me too. I nodded. “For life.” The words themselves sounded happy. Harper waved her hand, telling me to get lost. “Alright, I’m going. Talk later!” I grabbed my bag and blew her a kiss. “Violet Hayes, mark my words, one day he’ll drain you dry.” I took my best friend’s “blessing.” No, thanks! Hope neither of us ever ends up like that.

I’d been at my company for four years, but my position was lower than some of the new hires. The reason? Everyone knew. I’m tall and slender, with fair skin and a pretty face. When I first joined the company, I was the center of attention for quite a while. That ended the moment I got married. Everyone here was civilized; they knew there were certain lines you didn’t cross. But some people weren’t like that. They were just predators, taking whatever they wanted. My boss, Mr. Sterling, had hinted at things repeatedly, but I always played dumb and brushed him off. Today, though, it seemed that wasn’t going to work. “Director Sterling, I need to go home and have dinner with my husband tonight.” I pulled my hand away, smiling as I politely refused my boss’s invitation. That old creep practically had his dirty thoughts tattooed on his forehead. It was sickening. He’d already taken advantage of almost every woman in the office, it was just a matter of how much. “Violet, what about tomorrow then?” “I’m on a diet tomorrow. No dinner.” I blurted out without thinking. Dealing with workplace harassment is a vital skill for modern women. The old creep’s face instantly darkened, and he slammed a file onto the desk. “Redo this! I want to see it before the meeting tomorrow morning, or else, Violet Hayes, you can forget about your bonus this month!” I kept a smile on my face as I bent down to pick up the huge stack of files from his desk. These were materials I’d spent a week organizing. He hadn’t even looked at them before tossing them back, clearly trying to mess with me. If it were the old me, I would have thrown it right back in his face and walked out. But times were different now. I had a husband to support at home. If I quit, we’d both starve. Ugh, money problems can really crush you. After a whole day of hard work, it was already dark when I got home. In early spring, the mornings and evenings still felt like winter. The wind bit at my face, making my skin sting. After an hour of battling rush hour traffic, I finally dragged my half-dead self through the door. Our place wasn’t big, a cozy two-bedroom apartment, but it was warm and comfortable. “Wifey, you’re back! Quick, wash up and change. Dinner’s ready!” Rhys was wearing a cartoon apron, his clothes a sportswear set bought on sale at the mall, and on his feet were blue bunny slippers that matched my pink ones. He came out of the kitchen carrying steaming dishes, a warm smile on his face. His smile was like sunshine after a storm, melting away all my fatigue. I sniffled hard, suddenly feeling like all the grievances I’d suffered outside didn’t matter. A good partner protects their loved one from any pain. Seeing him so peaceful and domestic, I decided I could handle anything the outside world threw at us. “What’s wrong? Hurry and wash your hands. Come taste today’s special Rhys-style home cooking.” His goofy look made me laugh, and I happily trotted off to the bathroom to wash my hands. On the dinner table were what Rhys considered “home-cooked meals.” “Are we having Boston lobster today?” I absolutely refused to believe my meager salary could afford him buying gourmet meals home every few days. Yesterday, it was abalone. The day before, ginseng chicken soup. The day before that…

Rhys skillfully cracked open the lobster and placed the tender meat on my plate. “It’s lobster alright, but it’s local. The seller’s wife just had a baby, he needed to rush home, so he sold it cheap.” It sounded suspiciously similar to his excuse yesterday. Yesterday, the abalone seller’s son got married, so it was a day for everyone to celebrate. The day before that, he’d helped someone catch a chicken, and the owner kindly gave him one. These kinds of miracles seemed to happen to him every single day. “How do you run into such good luck every day?” I was baffled, taking a bite of the lobster meat. The delicious flavor melted in my mouth. So good. Rhys flashed his perfect white teeth at me, then smoothly popped a piece of meat he’d just pried from a crab claw into my mouth. “No choice, I’m just too charming and my luck is too good. Sellers practically chase me to feed me.” I chuckled, nodding. He wasn’t wrong, but then I thought about it again and felt something was off. “Then why don’t you buy more?” Rhys shook with laughter, reaching over to wipe a crumb from the corner of my mouth with his thumb. “My dearest wife works so hard, eat more.” I giggled sweetly, thoroughly enjoying his service. Cute, he’s got some conscience after all. He fed me until I was full, but he barely ate anything himself. The fruit after dinner was plump and glistening, sweet and refreshing, not at all cloying. “Honey, what’s this fruit you’re giving me?” Rhys had me lay with my head on his lap, feeding me the nameless, delicious fruit. “I don’t know, I picked it by the side of the road.” The food in my mouth instantly lost its appeal. Didn’t this guy worry about poison? “I tasted it beforehand; it’s perfectly fine. Good, right?” He saw right through my thoughts. “I’d eat it even if it was poisoned.” I turned and wrapped my arms around his waist, burying my face in his eight-pack abs. Harper was right. Rhys was a total charmer, keeping me utterly bewitched every single day. But hey, I totally fell for it. I loved it. I’d happily die in his arms, and I’d be a happy ghost. This comfortable, easy life… if only I didn’t have to be controlled by work, how perfect would that be? “No more eating. I still have work to do. If I don’t finish tonight, that old creep at my company will definitely make my life miserable again.” I reluctantly climbed off his lap. Ugh, life isn’t easy. “Is it that boss of yours again?” Rhys frowned, his expression instantly darkening. “You bet. Just looking at him makes me want to puke sometimes. Honestly, I really want to quit, sigh.” I patted his head. I didn’t tell him about the harassment; he’s a guy, I didn’t want him to feel his dignity was threatened. Rhys suddenly wrapped his arms around my waist, flipping us over so he was pinning me on the couch. His eyes bore into mine, filled with fire and fury. “Then just quit.” I froze for a second, then burst out laughing. He’s like a naive prince, totally out of touch with real-world struggles. Every single thing costs money! “Come on, I’ll go do some work. Just one hour, okay? One hour.” I coaxed him, enjoying our little game. But Rhys wouldn’t play along. Between soft kisses, he whispered in my ear, seducing me, “You know me, one hour is nowhere near enough…” “Rhys, just give me a bit, okay? Just a little while.” I blinked my eyes, a pleading look on my face. “No.” His kisses fell like rain, pouting like a stubborn child. “Honey… my sweet husband…” I gasped, feeling myself melting into a puddle, practically liquid. I tried to dodge his kisses, but he kept landing them perfectly. “I know.” He was so shameless, and I was so flustered. This husband, he was perfect in every way, but seriously, exhausting in the best way. …

The next day at the company, a bombshell dropped out of nowhere. That old creep, my boss, Mr. Sterling, was fired. I silently cheered, “Oh yeah!” I’d been expecting to get chewed out today. I hadn’t even touched the work I brought home yesterday, because Rhys had kept me pinned down, *massaging* me for hours and hours, sending me straight to dreamland. Who knew the tables would turn so quickly? In just one night, that old creep was out. It was truly cause for celebration! I immediately sent a SnapChat to my darling husband, sharing the good news. He sent me a selfie. In the photo, he was wearing the sportswear I bought him, out for a run downstairs, playfully making a finger heart at me. Sunny, handsome, full of energy. And the best part? This man was *mine*. A powerful sense of satisfaction washed over me. My subconscious urged me to work even harder, to keep him pampered and perfect, so he could continue to bless my life. The new boss was a woman, in her early forties, and very kind. To get off on the right foot, she was treating everyone to dinner after work. I couldn’t refuse, but I was really worried about Rhys back home. I called him and sent him messages, but I couldn’t relax during dinner. Tonight, the boss was treating us to a buffet, which was nice. Everyone could pick what they liked. But nothing here was as good as what we had at home. The abalone wasn’t big enough, the chicken soup wasn’t fresh enough, and I had to wait in line for lobster. A colleague next to me chatted, but my mind was entirely on Rhys, so I was a bit distracted. “Violet, have you heard that our company is going to be acquired?” I shook my head, listlessly poking at the food on my plate. Ugh, not as good as what my husband makes. “How can you not care? Our department is buzzing about it!” My colleague looked completely surprised, making me feel bad for not asking. “What happens if we’re acquired? Will I be laid off? Will I get a raise? Is the new boss handsome?” My colleague shook her head like a bobblehead, totally confused. “Exactly! Everything’s unknown, so I don’t get why you’re all whispering about it.” My colleague scratched her head, then nodded, seemingly agreeing with my point. I finally put an end to that topic. I speared a strawberry and popped it into my mouth. Ugh, it was… indescribable. “Why does this strawberry taste like nothing? It’s nowhere near as good as what my husband buys, and it’s even worse than the wild berries he picks from the roadside.” My colleague leaned in, intrigued, bumping my shoulder. “Tsk, tsk, look at you, Ms. Big Shot. Three sentences and it’s all about your husband. You’re such a husband-bragger! Violet, you’ve been married for about a year, right? We’ve never met your husband. Why don’t you invite him to join us tonight?”

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“I’m going on a business trip for a month. Could you feed my cat at my place? Oh, and the mango juice in the fridge is about to expire.” It was two in the morning, and the vibration of my phone jolted me awake. I picked up my phone and saw it was a message from my best friend. The next second, all my sleepiness vanished. A cold sweat broke out. First, she’s a freelancer. “Business trips” aren’t really her thing. Second, she doesn’t own a cat. Third, she’s allergic to mangoes. “Aubrey, I’m going on a business trip for a month. Could you feed my cat at my place? Oh, and the mango juice in the fridge is about to expire.” It was two in the morning, and the vibration of my phone jolted me awake. I grabbed the phone from my nightstand. It was a message from my best friend, Chloe. I’m a light sleeper. No exaggeration, a needle dropping on the floor at night would wake me up instantly. Chloe knew this, which was why she never messaged me in the middle of the night. The next second, a realization hit me. All my sleepiness vanished, replaced by a cold sweat. Chloe and I had been friends for over a decade. She was my closest friend, and no one knew her better than me. First, she’s a freelancer. “Business trips” aren’t really her thing. Second, she doesn’t own a cat. Third, she’s allergic to mangoes. A while ago, Chloe and I watched a thriller about the safety of women living alone. There was a scene where two best friends agreed on a secret code word to alert each other if they were in danger. “Aubrey, if I ever send you a weird message, you *have* to come save me.” My heart pounded with panic. My first instinct was to call Chloe. But then it hit me. If she was using these bizarre messages to hint at something, instead of just telling me what was going on, it could only mean one thing: the attacker was right there, watching her every move. It was two-thirty in the morning. Outside, the power seemed to be out; everything was pitch black. In the darkness, it felt like countless eyes were secretly watching me. My heart hammered against my ribs, the rapid thumping echoing clearly in my ears, as if it would burst out of my chest. I quickly pulled out my medication from the drawer and dry-swallowed two pills. It took a while for me to calm down. Once I had my composure, I called Asher first, then the police. Asher is my boyfriend. He’s incredibly smart and tall. Whether it was facing the police or going to find Chloe, having him by my side always made me feel safer. The moment I saw Asher, I threw myself into his arms and started crying, completely ungracefully. “Don’t be scared, Aubrey. I’m here. No one’s going to hurt you anymore,” Asher whispered, gently patting my back. Breathing in his subtle scent, my fear slowly dissipated. Thank goodness, I still had Asher. About five minutes later, the police arrived. I sat on the sofa, listening to Asher talk to them. “Aubrey Jiang?” a slightly surprised voice from the police rang out. I finally looked up, toward the doorway, and saw the familiar face of the lead officer. I was surprised too. It was Devin. Funny enough, Devin and I were old acquaintances. We were middle school classmates. If you really went back, he was even my first love. However, the way we broke up was quite brutal, something I’ve never forgotten to this day. Back then, we were young and naive. That kind of childish, pretend-play romance wasn’t meant to be serious. Still, seeing Devin in this situation made me feel strangely awkward. Devin, however, was professional. He had no intention of reminiscing. He stated matter-of-factly, “We understand the situation. We’re heading to Chloe’s place now.” “I’m coming with you,” I said, mustering my courage. Devin shot me a disapproving glance, as if he thought I’d just be in the way. Asher also tried to persuade me, “I know you’re worried about Chloe, but it’s better to let the police handle this.” I bit my lip, stubbornly insisting, “Chloe is my best friend. I have to see her safe with my own eyes to rest easy. Plus, I have her house key. I can help.” Seeing my persistence, Asher and Devin had no choice but to compromise. They knew how stubborn I was, that I’d always stick to something once I’d made up my mind. Left with no other option, Devin brought Asher and me along.

As an heiress, Chloe lived in a luxury townhouse with top-notch security. Devin immediately sent his team to check the surveillance footage, while he, Asher, and I headed straight for Chloe’s private residence. The moment we reached the door, a strong metallic smell of blood hit us. I shivered, a chilling premonition gripping me. My breathing became shallow. I reached into my bag for the key, but the more nervous I got, the less I could do anything right. The key, which was usually in the outer pocket of my backpack, was nowhere to be found. As if sensing my fear, Asher gently wrapped his arms around me from behind, softly reassuring me, “Aubrey, don’t be scared. I’m here.” I took a few deep breaths, forcing myself to stay calm, and finally found the key, handing it to Devin. Devin shot me an annoyed look, probably thinking I was too slow. Without a word, he turned and unlocked the door. Chloe’s house was dark. The pungent, sickening smell in the air made it hard for me to breathe. I stared at the closed door, an inexplicable dread filling me, as if a flesh-eating monster would leap out of that dark doorway any second. I clung tightly to Asher’s arm, as if it could bring me some peace. The door opened. Devin went in first, fumbling to switch on the living room light. Still reeling, I looked at the center of the living room. This scene, I will never forget. Chloe was dead. In her own living room, in a terribly gruesome state. She was kneeling, crucified, her face slashed beyond recognition, and her body stabbed countless times. Blood was everywhere. I screamed, terrified, and almost collapsed. Thankfully, Asher caught me in time and pulled out the pills he always carried, handing them to me. After taking the medication, I felt a little better, but I was still sobbing uncontrollably. “It’s all my fault. I came too late. If only I had come sooner.” Devin stood a short distance away, glaring at me irritably. “The killer is extremely brutal. If you had come sooner, there’d only be one more body.” I flinched. Devin’s words were as cutting as ever. Still, good to know he hadn’t changed. The police quickly secured the scene, taping it off. The officer who went to check the surveillance footage came back empty-handed. “The surrounding cameras were destroyed.” I sat blankly on the steps outside the door, a wave of numbness washing over me. My best friend, brutally murdered in her own home. It was hard for anyone to accept. Just as I was lost in thought, a fluffy head suddenly appeared in front of my face, scaring the living daylights out of me. Thankfully, Asher was still by my side and immediately pulled me into his arms. “Buddy! Back!” Devin called out sharply. That’s when I saw it clearly: it was a police dog. “Excuse me, Aubrey is afraid of dogs. Could you please keep your dog on a tighter leash?” I heard Asher’s displeased voice. Devin, holding the dog’s leash, shot me a thoughtful glance. I guessed he was probably wondering when I became afraid of dogs. After all, when we were dating back then, we even adopted a puppy together. But people change. As the person who reported the crime, Devin questioned me privately as standard procedure. “What was your relationship with the deceased, Chloe Chen?” “She was my best friend.” I thought, Devin should know the answer to that question without asking. The three of us were middle school classmates, and Chloe and I had been closest ever since then. More than just my best friend, she was my *only* friend.

My father was a compulsive gambler, always buried in debt. My mother… well, she ran a massage parlor in our town. You know, one of *those* places. The news spread like wildfire, and soon, the whole school knew. No one wanted anything to do with me, except Chloe. My entire adolescence, thanks to Chloe’s companionship, didn’t seem so bleak. She meant more to me than my own parents, with whom I had long since cut ties. “What was her job? Did she have any enemies?” “She was a food influencer. She rarely got into arguments with people. I honestly can’t imagine anyone hating her enough to kill her so brutally.” As I spoke, I started to choke up again, lowering my head and covering my face. “Did she have any romantic entanglements?” I racked my brain for a long time, then shook my head blankly. “I don’t know. I didn’t really pry into her love life.” “Weren’t you best friends?” Devin narrowed his eyes slightly. I felt a little awkward. “Even best friends don’t tell each other *everything*, do they?” Devin said nothing, then continued to ask, “What about you? What do you do for work now?” I paused, then answered truthfully, “I just quit my job recently. I’m currently unemployed.” “Why did you quit?” “Officer Devin, how are these questions relevant to Chloe’s death? Or are you implying *I’m* the killer?” I was angry, but Devin coldly continued, “Chloe died in her home. There were no signs of forced entry. The killer must have been someone Chloe knew, someone she let in, or someone who had her house key.” “You reported receiving a strange message from Chloe, but we haven’t found Chloe’s phone at the scene.” When he put it that way, I understood perfectly: he was genuinely suspicious of me. I scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping me. “So you think I, someone with no stable job or income, killed my best friend out of jealousy because she lived a better life than me?” “Answer my question.” His voice was devoid of warmth. I caved. “Fine. I quit my job because I suffer from severe anxiety. It makes it impossible for me to live and work normally.” I kept my head down, not wanting to see pity or sympathy in his eyes. Honestly, his distrust disappointed me. But then again, when we were together all those years ago, he never really believed in me with that much conviction either. To him, I was, at best, a familiar stranger. Why *should* he believe what I said? Devin stared intently at me, seemingly trying to read guilt or panic on my face. We sat in silence for a long time. Then, he suddenly pulled out an evidence bag and gently placed it on the table. “This phone, it’s yours, isn’t it?” It was an outdated, old phone. The screen was lit up, displaying my selfie. Given Chloe’s family wealth, she wouldn’t own a generic phone like this. Her phone had always been the latest model from a certain fruit company. I stared at the phone for a long time before nodding. “It’s mine.” “Can you explain why your phone was found at the crime scene?” Devin asked. That’s when I noticed the bloodstains on the back of the phone. I shook my head. “I have no idea. Honestly, I lost this phone three years ago. The one I’m using now was a gift from Chloe.” My expression must have been terrible. Otherwise, Devin wouldn’t have been staring at me with such a complex look. “Tell me, what happened?”

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To donate bone marrow to my husband’s *nominal* sister, I was forced to terminate the baby in my womb. After the surgery, my husband appeased his *nominal* sister with company shares, yet he trivialized my pain. “Don’t cause a scene here. It’s just one child; it’s not like she can’t have more.” His words were terrifyingly calm, as if what was lost was utterly insignificant. But that was the child I’d fought for with countless fertility treatments. The gown I’d poured my heart into designing was stolen, leaving me to wear a cheap dress. Chloe nestled in Julian’s arms, looking smug. “Sister-in-law, I liked this dress, so I took it. You wouldn’t look good in it anyway.” Watching them embrace, I couldn’t help but gag. This was the man who once knelt before my mother to marry me. Now, he wore the matching outfit I designed, yet held another woman. Finally, I dialed the number I thought I’d never have to call. The person on the other end chuckled, a joyful sound, as if a long-awaited treasure had finally returned. “Wait for me. Your car is already on its way.”

“Chloe, did you get this month’s company dividend?” Standing outside the CEO’s office, about to knock, I froze at the voices from within. Dividend? Chloe was merely Julian’s *nominal* sister, with no company shares. Why would she get a dividend? Then, Chloe’s delicate voice chimed in: “Julian, you gave me 30% of the company shares for my surgery. What did Sister-in-law get?” “If she got more than me, I won’t accept it!” “Aubrey? She merely had a fetus aborted. For you, that’s nothing.” Julian scoffed, his voice icy, as if it wasn’t even his child. *Merely had a fetus aborted?* The two in the CEO’s office had begun to pour out their hearts to each other, but I couldn’t hear anything anymore. The world just spun around me. My mind replayed Julian holding my waist, his expression incredibly forlorn as he said, “Aubrey, I want a child.” We’d been married for ten years, and for those words, I… I endured countless hormone shots, trying for seven years to finally conceive that child. The day we found out, he held me and cried tears of joy. But less than two months later, Chloe fell ill. She was diagnosed with leukemia and needed a bone marrow donor. After countless tests, only I was a match. For Chloe to have a successful surgery, Julian knelt before me. “Aubrey, I’m sorry to you and our child, but Chloe will die without your bone marrow!” This man who claimed to love me deeply, this man who smiled and said he could finally be a father. In the end, for his *nominal* sister, he demanded his wife personally sacrifice their hard-won child. His tears back then, compared to now, were nothing but a joke. I looked at the ceiling, a desperate smile on my face, tears silently falling. Gently stroking my flat stomach, I murmured, “My baby, ultimately, it’s mommy who failed you. I chose the wrong daddy for you.” When I came to my senses, sickening gasps and moans came from the CEO’s office. I morbidly listened to the entire exchange at the door, as if to sever the last shred of hope in my heart. Julian held Chloe, caressing her slightly swollen belly. “Chloe, we’ll have to be more careful from now on. The baby is getting bigger.” Chloe seemed shy, playfully complaining, “Why would you say something like that? What if someone hears us?” “I finally have a child again, of course I have to be careful.” Julian’s voice held boundless anticipation, just like he used to speak to me. “Julian, you sound like it’s your first time being a dad. Didn’t you have a child with Sister-in-law before?” Chloe’s voice carried a hint of confusion. Julian spoke as if it concerned someone utterly insignificant, his tone indifferent: “Her child wasn’t mine and yours. Besides, it was never born. Its greatest purpose was being aborted for you.” I couldn’t bear to listen anymore. I left the company in a daze. The heavens seemed to weep with me, unleashing a torrential downpour. I only heard the screech of tires, and a dark shadow enveloped me. *Bang!* I instantly plunged into darkness.

When I woke up again, all I saw was a stark white ceiling. The air was thick with the pungent smell of disinfectant. “Aubrey, are you okay! You’re finally awake! You’ve been unconscious for three days and three nights after the car accident!” Julian excitedly gripped my hand by the bedside. My mind slowly started to clear. I expressionlessly pulled my hand away. Julian froze for a few seconds. In that brief moment, a petite figure squeezed past the stunned Julian. “Sister-in-law! Your sudden car accident scared Julian and me terribly! Julian personally took care of you for three days!” Chloe looked worried, but her eyes clearly told me: *Why aren’t you dead yet?* I weakly pulled at the corners of my mouth. “Then I’m truly grateful for your devoted care.” As I spoke, my gaze fell directly on Chloe’s slightly swollen belly. Chloe realized her true intentions had been seen through, and being stared at so intently, she recoiled slightly. Julian disapproved of my tone. “Aubrey, why would you say that? We’re all family. Family doesn’t talk like strangers.” I forced myself to sit up, my body, aching from the crash, felt as if it would shatter. “You and I are legally family. What does that make Chloe?” My tone was devoid of emotion, simply stating a fact. But Julian instantly reacted like I’d struck a nerve, jumping up from his chair. The chair scraped against the floor with a shrill screech, but no one cared in that moment. Julian’s face darkened. He pointed at me, enunciating each word: “Aubrey, apologize to Chloe immediately!” “Chloe grew up with me since she was little. Her father was my dad’s old comrade; he entrusted her to our family before he died. Are you saying you don’t consider Chloe a sister at all?!” I looked at the two standing together, and it was like seeing Julian protect me in the past. Before, when I was cornered and bullied in the alley by people who looked down on me at school, Julian defended me with the same unwavering resolve. Now, I had gone from being by his side to standing against him. “Is that so? What’s Chloe’s last name? Or is she the one on your family record?” I looked coldly at the man before me, my eyes devoid of any past affection. Julian’s anger was thoroughly ignited. He roughly grabbed my hand, which was still hooked up to an IV. “No matter what Chloe’s last name is, or if she’s on my family record, she *is* my family!” A sharp pain shot through the back of my hand. I watched as blood rapidly flowed back into the IV line. The man who once couldn’t stand to see me get even a scratch. Now, he showed no reaction to my injury, his sole focus still on defending his beloved sister. My numb heart still involuntarily twinged with pain. Memories of love flickered within me, the contrast with the harsh reality made my eyes sting. I quietly watched the blood in my body mix little by little with the medication. Julian, getting no response, followed my gaze. Only then did he notice the blood flowing back, and a look of disgust flashed across his face. Julian abruptly flung my hand away. “My wife shouldn’t be someone as jealous as you. You stay here and reflect properly.” With that, he took Chloe and slammed the door shut as they left. I lay alone on the bed, silently weeping. My hand unconsciously went to my lower abdomen, where there was no longer any sign of life.

Julian, under the guise of wanting me to “reflect,” didn’t show up at all during my half-month hospital stay. Only Chloe visited, as if to declare her dominance. As if I were the one who had been taken in by their family; And she, the rightful lady of the house, came to visit me so naturally. She even “casually” exposed her baby bump, trying to provoke me into an irreversible decline. “Ms. Aubrey, your condition has mostly stabilized, but a few data points aren’t quite up to par.” “But don’t worry too much, as long as you regulate your mood, you’ll be fine. Is the lady who often visits you your sister? She really cares for you.” The doctor looked at the medical records in her hand, explaining my situation, clearly thinking Chloe and I were sisters. A crestfallen expression on my face, I closed my eyes and softly murmured, “With a sister like that, I probably won’t ever leave this hospital.” The doctor didn’t quite catch what I said and instinctively asked. I didn’t want to elaborate, so I perfunctorily sent the doctor away. Discharged, I returned home. Chloe looked at me sitting in a wheelchair. A resentful malice flashed in her eyes. “Sister-in-law, you’re really lucky, coming out of such a car accident in half a month like nothing happened.” I didn’t respond to her. I surveyed the small home I once considered our love nest, Julian’s and mine. Many of my things were gone, Replaced by items clearly in Chloe’s preferred style. “Oh, Sister-in-law, I’m so sorry, but while you were in the hospital, I was afraid Julian wouldn’t have anyone to take care of him, so I moved in. You’re not angry, are you?” There wasn’t an ounce of apology in Chloe’s words, only overflowing smugness. I sat there, silent. It was always like this, I don’t know when it started. Whenever it came down to a choice between me and Chloe, I was always the one cast aside. Just like that crucial charity gala. To save Julian from embarrassment, I poured immense effort into designing a matching gown. With all my love for Julian and the belief that we would soon have the fruit of our love. The dress created with such conviction; Chloe obtained it with a single pout directed at Julian. When the gala began, I couldn’t find my gown and cried in desperation. But Julian said, “How many times have I told you to keep your things safe? Now look, we’re going to be late because of you.” He seemed a little guilty, not daring to meet my tear-filled eyes. My tears smudged my delicate makeup: “I distinctly remember telling Mrs. Davies to take it to the dry cleaner and then put it personally in the deepest part of the wardrobe. I even saw her do it.” Seeing me frantically rummaging through the wardrobe like a madwoman, Julian, as if escaping something, flung out a frustrated accusation, saying he was going to attend with Chloe and I shouldn’t bother. When I finally got a hastily bought dress from Mrs. Davies, And arrived at the venue, only then did I find out where my original gown had gone. Chloe smugly held Julian’s arm, stroking the gown that was meant for me, Smiling, she said, “Sister-in-law, isn’t this dress beautiful? It’s Julian’s matching one.” “But Sister-in-law, how dare you come here wearing such a cheap dress? You’re totally embarrassing Julian.” Seeing the two glued together, I almost immediately leaned against the wall and started dry heaving, unable to control myself. Chloe immediately covered her mouth in disgust. “Julian, I think Sister-in-law’s not well. If she goes to the gala in this state…” Julian’s slight feeling of guilt vanished instantly. He ordered someone to “escort” me out. My tears fell like a broken string of pearls. I shook off the security guard who came to restrain me, looking utterly pathetic in the eyes of countless guests. Mocks and laughter filled my ears. My heart lost the ability to feel in that moment. “Julian, let’s get a divorce.”

The moment I spoke, everyone present fell silent. I numbly watched Julian’s expression turn utterly astonished, his eyes filled with panic. Julian was about to speak, but was immediately interrupted by a sob. “Sister-in-law, I didn’t mean to wear your dress by mistake! Please don’t be angry over such a small thing!” Chloe cried dramatically, feigning to take off the gown. Julian seemed to snap back to reality. “Aubrey, I’m so disappointed in you.” “It’s just a dress. Are you really that petty, making our family a laughingstock in front of everyone at an event like this?” As he spoke, he took off the matching suit jacket I had designed for him and draped it over the other woman. My heart twinged uncontrollably, like a thousand needles pricking me. Did he not see how I toiled tirelessly, like a mother nurturing a child, to create that design? Did he not see my ten fingers constantly pricked as I stitched every single thread? No, he saw it all. He just didn’t care. “Julian, whose family *are* you anyway?” I looked at Julian, deeply hurt, my voice tinged with rare accusation. Julian, as if exposed, grew enraged. “Aubrey, I think you’ve lost your mind. Someone take her away to calm down!” The surrounding scorn and ridicule intensified, but I couldn’t hear it anymore. My body was ice cold, all strength drained from me. Taken away by security again, this time I didn’t resist. After that gala ended, Chloe provocatively sent the two utterly ruined outfits back to me. Looking at the two garments, almost unrecognizable from their original form, my heart felt just as broken. Crying all night, clutching the clothes, my heart gradually grew numb. But not long after, good news came from my belly. The child we had waited for so many years had finally arrived. Julian held my waist, his ear pressed against my still-flat belly. “Aubrey, after all these years, we finally have our child!” I had never seen him so happy. “Julian, with this child, I don’t care how much hardship or suffering I’ve endured before.” We embraced, our faces filled with joyful smiles. I felt like I was in heaven at that moment. But less than four months later, it became hell. Julian, his face filled with urgency, knelt before me: “Aubrey! Only you can save Chloe! I beg you, abort the child!” I felt as if plunged into an ice cellar: “What are you saying?” Julian, still kneeling, gripped my arm as if afraid I’d run away, his hold impossibly tight. “Chloe has leukemia, and only your bone marrow is a match.” “The doctor said for the donation to go smoothly, you must abort the child. Please, I’m begging you!” “Our family owes Chloe’s family a life! You can’t just stand by and watch her die!!” The man before me, in his frantic state, terrified me. “Julian, are you insane?! This child came after how many hormone shots?! How many years have we waited for this, have you forgotten!?” My voice grew sharp, filled with disbelief. Julian, as if he hadn’t expected me to refuse, His face twisted, anger overriding his desperation. “Can’t you have another child?! What could be more important than Chloe?!” His words were followed by a harsh slap. I clutched my red, swollen cheek, completely stunned. By the time I reacted, I couldn’t catch my breath and passed out. When I woke again, my slightly swollen belly was flat. Learning I had lost the child, I felt as if my soul had been ripped from my body, all vitality gone. Compared to the lifelessness in my hospital room, Chloe’s bed, just a wall away, was surrounded by people. Everyone was celebrating Chloe’s recovery from danger; My husband happily held her hand, his eyes full of affection: “Chloe, I told you I’d cure you no matter the cost.” Chloe was moved to tears: “Julian, I always believed in you.” Everyone present praised their bond, saying it was closer than blood. Just a wall away, I lay shattered on the bed, like a rag doll from whom all utility had been extracted. I don’t know how much time passed. When I regained consciousness, it had been a week. The nurse, seeing me finally regain some autonomy, said with a hint of fear: “Ms. Aubrey, you wouldn’t believe it, but for that entire week, you had no basic will to live. You were sustained only by IV drips. Otherwise, I’m afraid…” The nurse didn’t finish her sentence. I didn’t care about my emaciated body, nor did I care about anyone anymore. I was no different from a corpse. Having lost my child, I finally dialed the number I thought I’d never call in my life. Back then… He insisted I take his contact information, saying it was his private number. No matter when I called, he would answer immediately. The phone connected, and a deep, magnetic voice came through: “You finally called.”

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I could always hear intimate sounds coming from next door. Men and women, a chaotic mess. It kept me awake all night. But he lived alone. My new roommate’s room often made strange noises at night, and there was always a strong, foul, musky odor emanating from it, and from him too. Every time he walked past me, I couldn’t help but want to cover my nose. I guessed he frequently brought girlfriends home for wild, raucous nights, but I had never actually seen any of them. This one evening, I was sitting on my bed, scrolling on my phone, when a sultry moan echoed from next door again. It sounded like a woman gasping, making unmistakable noises. My mind was racing with frantic thoughts. Even with headphones on, I couldn’t block out the sound. Was he really bringing another girlfriend back? The sounds lasted for several hours before finally quieting down. I finally drifted into an exhausted sleep. The next morning. I was getting ready for work. The moment I opened my door, I ran right into my roommate sitting on the couch. I couldn’t help but frown. The musky odor on him seemed even stronger today. When he saw me, his eyes instantly lit up. I was wearing a professional, modest skirt suit today. But his gaze was fixed on me, still staring, and it made my stomach churn. “Morning, did you sleep well last night? Did I bother you?” He smiled, a knowing glint in his eyes, clearly implying something. The sounds were so loud, does he have no self-awareness? I frowned, bristling with anger, and glared at him, ready to storm out. But then he started to explain: “I’m a voice actor. I need a quiet environment late at night to simulate various situational sounds for my work.” His mouth opened and closed, a sleazy glint in his smiling eyes. “You know, some voice work is just hard to perform in an office.” I couldn’t help but think of the voice actor videos I’d seen online – the voices often had a stark contrast with the actual person. But… those explicit sounds I heard, were they just voice acting? Seeing my continued suspicion, he got up from the couch. The strange odor on him intensified with his movement, filling the entire space with a suffocating, unpleasant smell. I subtly took a step back, not bothering to hide my disgust, my brows still tightly furrowed. He paused for a moment, then chuckled, revealing his large teeth. I only wished I was nearsighted, because I could see the food remnants on his teeth all too clearly, and my stomach twisted with nausea. “Here, look, this is my work ID.” He held the ID up to my face. The closer he got, the stronger that utterly foul smell became. I forced myself to suppress a dry heave and glanced at it. Sure enough, he was a voice actor. Hearing his explanation, I secretly let out a sigh of relief, but my guard didn’t drop. Because ever since he moved in, I’d constantly felt his subtle, lingering gaze, like a shadow, making the hair on my arms stand on end.

That day, I was about to take a shower. I’d just stepped into the bathroom and hadn’t locked the door yet. I heard the faintest sound of a door creaking open, and my heart instantly seized with alarm. Then, a soft rustling of footsteps. Someone was approaching the bathroom! My nerves went taut. On instinct, I lunged for the door and instantly locked it from the inside. Under the cover of the running water, I faintly heard a man’s heavy breathing from outside the door. My previous roommate was a girl, so I never had this kind of worry. I was used to being careless. I’d been too careless, I’d completely forgotten a man lived here now. If I had been a second slower to lock the door, I didn’t know if he would have burst in. “Dustin, is that you out there? What do you want?” I called my new roommate’s name, my voice icy, hoping to scare him away. I was terrified he would just rush in. After all, this thin plastic door wouldn’t stand a chance against an adult’s kick. But there was no answer from outside the door, only more faint footsteps. He was moving away. After a hurried shower, I wrapped myself up tightly, pulling a large towel over my nightgown before I dared to step out of the bathroom. On the couch, my new roommate sat with his back to me. Hearing the sound, he immediately turned around, a perfectly calm smile on his face. “I just needed to use the restroom. I was half-asleep and didn’t realize anyone was in there. My bad.” His expression looked utterly innocent. “Oh… right, no problem.” After a brief exchange, I retreated to my room, and he entered the bathroom. By the time I’d dried my hair and put on a face mask, emerging from my room, he was no longer in the living room. His bedroom door remained tightly shut. It was as if I was the only one who was tense from start to finish. He always seemed so calm. I forced myself to calm down, repeatedly telling myself I was overthinking things. Was I too quick to judge based on appearances? Mulling this over, I entered the bathroom, intending to wash the undergarments I’d just changed out of. I used to just hang my freshly changed intimates directly on the wall hooks, out of habit. But now, I noticed something odd. Did I really hang them like this? The way they were hanging just felt different from my memory. Still, I’d just casually hung them up, and my memory was hazy, so I couldn’t be sure. “Overthinking it, overthinking it,” I muttered to myself. After washing my intimates, I took them out to dry on the communal balcony. The balcony faced my new roommate’s bedroom door. Everything was perfectly still. But just as I finished hanging the clothes and turned around, I suddenly saw… His door, at some point, had opened a crack, and through the gap, his glasses glinted faintly. This time, I was certain: he was peeking at me.

Our eyes met, and the door instantly slammed shut. A sense of dreadful foreboding completely enveloped me. He’s just peeking now, but what if he escalates later? The more I thought about it, the more terrified I became. I rushed back to my room and immediately ordered a pepper spray online. It would take a few days for the delivery to arrive. I thought for a moment, then, following a trick I learned online, I jammed a clothes hanger into the doorframe. This way, he wouldn’t be able to push the door open easily for a while. I huddled under my covers, silently praying that he was all bark and no bite. The next few days were calm. He was quiet at night, and I didn’t catch him peeking again. My guard slowly lowered, and life seemed to return to its usual tranquility. Then came Saturday. I finally got to sleep in, and my mood was great. I was planning to meet up with Chloe, my best friend, later for some shopping and a nice meal, as I pushed open my door. The sight on the balcony moments later made me freeze. My roommate was actually standing by my freshly laundered undergarments, sniffing them in an utterly perverse way! His expression was one of pure ecstasy, and he was even rubbing his hand over them, caressing the soft fabric. Watching his expression and actions. A wave of disgust washed over me, and my voice came out ice cold. “What are you doing?!” My cheeks burned red with shame and indignation. I rushed forward and snatched the intimates back. “You… you’re going too far!” He gave a sleazy chuckle, completely unbothered by being caught. “Didn’t you hang them on the balcony just to tempt me?” His eyes, burning with intense desire, swept over my body. Then, he smiled strangely. “Congrats, it worked. How about you be my girlfriend?” What the hell, what kind of delusional creep was this? I instinctively recoiled, biting hard on my trembling lip. Faced with his predatory gaze, I instinctively turned and bolted back to my room. But my heart was pounding uncontrollably, overwhelmed with fear. No, I can’t stay here. I hurriedly changed and fled to Chloe’s place. When Chloe heard what happened, she cursed him out as a pervert too. But since he hadn’t done anything concrete, there was nothing the police could do. After staying at Chloe’s until Sunday afternoon, I had no choice but to go back. I had to be at work on Monday, and my professional clothes and work ID were all at home. “It’s okay. If he dares to be creepy again, you tell me. I’ll send Liam, my boyfriend, to deal with him!” With Chloe’s comfort, plus the pepper spray having already arrived, I felt a bit more relaxed. Back home. He didn’t seem to be home; his slippers were by the door. As I was gathering dirty clothes to throw into the washing machine, I realized I couldn’t find the pair of stockings I’d changed out of on Friday. After searching around with no luck. I was drawn, as if by an unearthly urge, to my roommate’s door, and reached out to twist the doorknob. *Click.* It was locked. I withdrew my hand, feeling an indescribable mix of emotions. Maybe I just put them in some corner. As for the set of intimates that had been hanging on the balcony, I threw them directly into the trash can. Just thinking about how many times he must have touched them over those few days they hung there made my skin crawl. It wasn’t until very late, after I had already fallen asleep, that I heard my roommate opening the door and returning. His room was quiet tonight. Unknowingly, I drifted into a deep sleep. I don’t know how much time passed. *Bang!* The sound of a water bottle hitting the floor instantly jolted me awake. I was disoriented for a second, then my eyes shot open towards my bedroom door, which was slightly ajar. I could vaguely see a dark silhouette frozen at the doorway. 4. I cowered in fear, terrified he would burst in the next second. The dark figure tentatively pushed the door. *Rattle, rattle.* Thankfully, the door was still jammed shut with the clothes hanger trick, so he couldn’t easily get in. I trembled all over, feeling as if I’d plunged into an icy abyss, too scared to even speak. But my shaking hand frantically gripped the pepper spray hidden under my pillow. The person at the door tried again. After still failing to open the door, he quietly closed it and left. It wasn’t until more than ten minutes after he left that I finally calmed down. My brain raced. This person was undoubtedly my roommate. The fact that he could open my bedroom door meant he must have had a key copied for my room. So, on days I wasn’t home, when I was at work, had he been…? The more I thought about it, the more terrified I became. Sleep was impossible. I quickly got up and checked around the room, but found nothing missing. But I knew deep down, this couldn’t continue. If he ever completely lost control, I would be finished. I spent a restless night. The next morning, I specifically called in sick to work and kept my ears peeled for any movement from next door. Finally, I heard him leave. I immediately jumped out of bed and called a locksmith to change the lock. After the new lock was installed, I felt a bit more at ease. My gaze involuntarily fell on his tightly closed door. He was always so secretive; there had to be something seriously off in that room! I asked the locksmith to open his door, claiming I had accidentally locked it. The locksmith, without suspicion, picked the lock and then left. And I, pushing the door open, nervously stepped into his room. The curtains were drawn tight, making the room incredibly dim. His computer was locked, connected to a set of streaming equipment. Microphones, cameras, etc. It looked very professional. Wasn’t he a voice actor? Why was he dabbling in live streaming?

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My husband’s mistress was dead – murdered. That afternoon, my husband and I were taken to the police station. I actually had no idea my husband was having an affair. If it weren’t for this murder case, I might have been kept in the dark forever. To identify the killer, the police took our fingerprints and asked about our whereabouts during the victim’s estimated time of death. The victim, Mandy Liu, was a 28-year-old office worker. She died around 11 PM on July 30, 2019. The cause of death was a severed carotid artery, leading to massive blood loss. It had been three days since Mandy Liu’s death. With only three days passed, I clearly remembered what happened that night. My husband had been with me the whole time, sleeping very soundly. So I naturally told the truth. My husband and I were questioned separately by the police. I was interviewed by a man and a woman. The man, Mike, was around 30 and a deputy leader of the major crime unit. The woman, Wendy, looked to be in her late 20s and was quite beautiful. Perhaps because I was pregnant and had just learned about my husband’s affair, they saw my red-rimmed eyes and were very gentle when questioning me, probably worried I couldn’t handle the psychological stress. Especially Wendy – she looked at me with kind eyes and asked, “Mrs. Lin, please think carefully. Are you absolutely certain your husband didn’t leave the house that night? Is it possible he snuck out while you were asleep?” I was taken aback, considered for a moment, then said, “Officer Wendy, since becoming pregnant I’ve been sleeping a lot, so I go to bed early every night. All I can say is that my husband was there when I fell asleep and when I woke up.” Wendy and Mike exchanged a glance. Curiously, I asked, “Officer Wendy, can’t you extract DNA evidence from the rape victim? If you suspect my husband, you could test for that.” Even as I said this, I was thinking – they were already having an affair, why would he need to rape her? The killer definitely wasn’t my husband. Seeing my question, Wendy shook her head and said, “The killer was clever and didn’t leave any useful evidence. So this case is a bit complicated to investigate.” I made a sound of acknowledgment. Wendy asked how far along my pregnancy was. I told her just over 4 months. She smiled and glanced at my belly, saying it looked quite large and might be twins. She added that pregnant women are prone to emotional reactions and advised me to try to stay positive and take good care of myself. I was very touched by Wendy’s words. After chatting a bit more, I left the police station. I thought my husband would be coming home with me, but Officer Mike said he needed to stay and assist with the investigation. With no other choice, I had to go home alone. Back in my neighborhood, I learned from neighbors that several police officers had come by. They had checked the security camera footage and asked if anyone had heard our door open between 9 PM and early morning on July 30th. I asked what the neighbor had told them. She said she hadn’t heard anything, so she told them the truth. Hearing this, I felt reassured. I assumed my husband would be spending the night at the police station since he wasn’t answering my calls. But just as I was about to go to sleep after dinner, he came home. He was still cold and aloof as usual. I got up to heat some food for him, but he stopped me. I asked, “Honey, why didn’t you answer my call earlier?” He said the police had taken his phone to copy his chat and call records. Thinking about all the intimate exchanges with that woman on his phone, I felt disgusted. But considering the baby, I held back. After all, that woman was dead now – what was there left to be upset about? But I was wrong. My lack of concern didn’t mean others felt the same. As I dozed off, I suddenly felt a violent choking sensation. Opening my eyes, I realized my husband was frantically strangling me, trying to kill me.

I struggled desperately, pushing against him while choking out, “Honey… I’m carrying your child… Do you really… want both of us dead?” My words had the desired effect. He slowly released my neck, forcefully gripping my shoulders instead. Glaring at me with bloodshot eyes, he shouted, “Lucy, tell me – did you hire someone to kill Mandy?” His rage terrified me. I quickly explained, “Honey, you’re… you’re wrong. I don’t have the guts for that.” “Hmph! You’d better hope I don’t find out you did it. Otherwise, I’ll strangle you myself.” With a final menacing glare, my husband got off the bed and left. He didn’t return to the bedroom that night. I tossed and turned, his furious face haunting my thoughts. It wasn’t until nearly dawn that I finally drifted into a fitful sleep. I was woken by the sound of the doorbell. After listening for a while and realizing no one was answering, I drowsily got up to go downstairs and open the door. But as I descended the stairs and saw the scene in the living room, I let out a scream of horror. My husband was slumped motionlessly on the sofa, surrounded by a large pool of blood. He had slit his wrists. A bloody scalpel lay on the coffee table. Seeing this terrifying sight, I screamed again. I couldn’t bear to look a second time – it was too horrific. My whole body went limp and I collapsed to the floor, shaking uncontrollably. The doorbell kept ringing. Hearing my screams, it became even more urgent. I wanted to open the door but found I had no strength. I could only sit there sobbing. After what felt like forever, the door was forced open from outside. Wendy and Mike entered, followed by two uniformed officers. When they saw my husband, they were all startled. Mike immediately called the medical examiner, while Wendy helped me up from the floor where I sat crying. The medical examiner arrived quickly and made a preliminary determination of suicide, with time of death around 2 AM. His face was contorted, as if he had experienced something terrifying just before dying. Mike told me that my husband was the one who had killed Mandy Liu. I didn’t believe it at first, but he said the evidence was conclusive. They had obtained security camera footage from both our neighborhood and Mandy’s. Although he had avoided the cameras in our complex, he wasn’t as familiar with Mandy’s area. They had captured an image of him there around 10 PM on the night of the murder. I was stunned. Mike also told me they had found WeChat records on my husband’s phone confirming he and Mandy had planned to meet those days. So their initial conclusion was that my husband had committed suicide out of guilt. I felt devastated. I crouched down, my body shaking uncontrollably like a sieve. The police took my husband’s body away for further examination. Our living room became a crime scene, surrounded by police tape. Especially that pool of blood on the floor – it made my heart race with fear just looking at it. After I finished giving my statement, Wendy seemed very sympathetic. She put a comforting hand on my shoulder and asked softly, “Lucy, I see bruises on your neck. Did Charlie abuse you?” Her question reminded me of the previous night’s events. I wiped away my tears and carefully said, “Last night I confronted him about the affair. He was in a bad mood and got physical.” Wendy looked thoughtful, then said after a pause, “The neck is a vulnerable area. It seems he was trying to kill you. Why didn’t you call the police?”

Wendy’s words startled me. I took a deep breath and said, covering my neck, “Officer Wendy, he’s my husband – the father of my unborn child.” Seeing my response, Wendy didn’t press further. As they prepared to leave, she advised me to stay at a nearby hotel if I felt unsafe at home, and to call her if I needed anything. I nodded in agreement and watched them go. I grew up in a rural area, with my parents still living far away in the countryside. My husband’s parents were from another city. After college, we both found jobs here, so we bought our marital home in this city. But I never imagined I’d end up alone in this 2000 square foot house. The thought made me incredibly sad. I went upstairs to pack a few changes of clothes and checked into a nearby hotel. After eating a little, I took out my husband’s bank cards and called the online banking customer service. To my surprise, I discovered there was over $500,000 in deposits across his accounts. I didn’t actually know my husband’s bank card PINs. But recently I had purposely asked him to take me shopping for baby items. By watching him enter his WeChat Pay password multiple times, I had secretly memorized it. I guessed that like most people, he probably used the same password for WeChat, Alipay and his bank cards to avoid forgetting. Sure enough, my hunch was correct – it worked on the first try. Ever since getting pregnant, I had suffered from severe morning sickness and was forced to quit my job as a makeup artist at a photo studio. My husband was very guarded about money and only gave me $500 a month for living expenses. This had always bothered me. I put away the bank cards, feeling exhausted. I dozed off on the bed and had a nightmare. In the dream, I was lying motionless in bed while Mandy Liu and my husband Charlie grinned eerily at me, reaching out to strangle me. I jolted awake, realizing it was just a dream. Parched, I was about to get up for some water when my phone on the nightstand rang. Seeing it was Wendy calling, my heart skipped a beat. I took a deep breath before answering. Wendy asked which hotel I was staying at, saying there were some more things they needed to understand. I gave her the hotel name. About 30 minutes later, Wendy arrived alone – Mike wasn’t with her this time. I let her into the room. Wendy smiled and said, “Mrs. Lin, although your husband’s death appears to be suicide, the autopsy found a significant amount of alprazolam in his system – much more than a normal dose. Did he have any medical conditions requiring this medication?” “Alprazolam?” I pondered the drug name, then realized, “Oh, you mean the sleeping pills? My husband had insomnia. He only took a couple pills when he couldn’t sleep.” “Is that so? But the amount detected in your husband’s body was at least five times a normal dose. How do you explain that?” Hearing Wendy’s words, I gave a bitter laugh.

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My husband, Jake, was a big-shot stylist in the industry. His clients? All high-spending wealthy women. He’d come home late, shed his clothes, and just crash. But one night, I found a receipt in his jacket pocket. Just one item listed: condoms. The purchase time was 8:16 PM, that very evening. My blood ran cold. Jake and I hadn’t been intimate in ages. So, who exactly was that box for? My name is Natalie. I’m 26 and I work at a bank, primarily in investment and wealth management. My parents were strict educators, so it was a shock when I insisted on marrying Jake, someone whose background and upbringing were so completely different from mine. Jake was effortlessly charming and undeniably handsome—the kind of guy who’d make any woman’s heart flutter with just one glance. At the time, he worked as a stylist at an upscale salon. My office was nearby, and I’d often pop in for a haircut. That’s how we got to know each other. He was witty, humorous, and incredibly composed—nothing like the loud and obnoxious guys I’d known in college. I was utterly captivated, and soon enough, we started dating. When my father found out, he hit the roof. He tore into me, screaming. I cried my eyes out, but my mom, bless her heart, intervened, mediating between us for what felt like forever. In the end, my father reluctantly gave in. I thought being with the man I loved would be like living in a dream, every day sweeter than the last. Instead, after we got married, I was under immense emotional stress. Insomnia, nightmares, hair loss, I looked utterly dreadful. Every time I caught my reflection, it was like staring at a ghost. I’d turn my head to look at Jake, sprawled on the couch, glued to his phone. His shirt would ride up, revealing his defined abs. Compared to him, I felt even more self-conscious. My parents, seeing how much I’d wasted away, were heartbroken. Soon after we married, they dipped into most of their life savings to buy us a house in a prime school district and even gave Jake a chunk of money to further his hairdressing skills. After his advanced training, he really took off. He became the salon’s star stylist and was promoted to creative director. But ever since Jake became a director, he got busier and busier. He was out early and back late; I barely saw him. When he did come home, it was usually late, smelling of liquor and unfamiliar perfume. He wouldn’t even bother to take off his clothes, just crash onto the bed and pass out. That night, Jake didn’t get home until after midnight, just like always. He stumbled onto the bed, still in his jacket, and within moments, his snores filled the room. My heart ached for him. I reached out, gently took his arm, and carefully pulled his jacket off. With a soft shake, a few strands of wine-red, curly hair drifted from his jacket and landed on the floor. I didn’t think much of it; Jake was a hairdresser, after all. He always had different women’s hair on him, I was used to it. I picked up the hair, tossed it into the nearby trash can, and draped his jacket over the back of a chair. Suddenly, a small crumpled piece of paper fell out of his jacket pocket. Curious, I smoothed it open. It was a supermarket receipt. Just one item: condoms. Purchased at 8:16 PM, tonight. I froze. Jake and I hadn’t been intimate in ages. So, who exactly was that box of condoms for? The thought sparked, and doubt took root deep in my heart . I picked up Jake’s jacket again, carefully checking every inch. Finally, on the collar, I spotted a deep, unmistakable lipstick stain. Jake had often told me his job involved a lot of women: the sexy receptionist, young new clients, and chatty female stylists. But of course, his most frequent clients were the high-spending wealthy ones.

From the very first day of our marriage, I chose to trust him. I never questioned his work. But seeing that lipstick stain on his jacket and that box of condoms, I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling. My mind started racing, consumed by wild suspicions. The overthinking clearly impacted my work efficiency. I asked my supervisor for a day off and went straight to ‘The Muse’ salon. After marrying Jake, I’d never once been to his workplace. He never invited me to work events, either, so over time, I didn’t know any of his friends or colleagues. After asking around, I finally found The Muse salon. It was on the fifth floor of a mall, taking up a huge space, entirely enclosed by transparent glass. As soon as I stepped off the elevator, I saw The Muse’s prominent sign. Through the glass doors, I spotted a short-haired girl with bright green hair, lounging at the reception desk, practically *melting* into a smile for Jake. Jake flashed a wicked grin. He reached out and lightly brushed her hair with his fingers, and her smile widened even more. Jake’s gaze swept over the short-haired girl’s body, and he reached out again, giving her waist a playful squeeze. She didn’t pull away, instead, she pressed his hand into her waist, rubbing against it. The electricity between them was palpable. I stood there, stunned. *This* was my husband’s normal work environment? My legs felt like concrete; I couldn’t move an inch. Jake leaned in, whispered something into the green-haired girl’s ear, then turned and walked deeper into the salon. I quickly pushed through the doors and followed his direction. I saw him disappear into a VIP room. The green-haired girl looked at me, a flicker of annoyance in her eyes. “Haircut or perm? Do you have a regular stylist?” I shook my head. “No. Just find me anyone.” The green-haired girl yelled inside, “Kevin! Client for you! Come wash her hair.” A slender, somewhat effeminate guy responded, his hair dyed yellow. He smiled at me. “Right this way, beautiful.” I followed him, passing by a mirror. Seeing my own dreadful reflection and hearing him call me “beautiful,” I felt like their profession required a serious lack of conscience. Kevin quickly washed my hair, then led me to a chair near the corner. A white towel was draped over my face. I heard him ask, “So, beautiful, how do you want your hair cut?” “Just… whatever,” I mumbled. Kevin took the towel off, let my hair down, and started cutting. He was quite talkative, chatting idly with me, which was perfect. It gave me a chance to pump him for information. “How did you hear about our salon, beautiful?” he asked. “A friend recommended it. She’s a client of… Tony. I don’t see Tony around, though?” I asked, feigning casualness. Kevin scoffed, a hint of bitterness in his voice. “Oh, *our* Tony? He’s far too busy. Not just anyone can see him. You need to have *this*.” He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together in front of me, clearly indicating money. “Oh?” I couldn’t help but ask, intrigued. “How much are we talking?” Kevin looked at my face, confused, then seeing my serious expression, he dropped his smile. He glanced around, then leaned in close, whispering, “Look, sis, you seem like an honest person. Just don’t get yourself mixed up in this mess.”

It seemed Kevin knew a lot. I looked at his reflection in the mirror and said, “Tell me about him, and I’ll buy a Gold Card here.” Kevin’s eyes instantly lit up. He grinned at me. “Sis, are you also interested in Tony? We have tons of clients who are!” Kevin started talking. “Tony is handsome, charming, and he has the most clients. Not just a lot, but they’re all wealthy women, driving fancy cars!” Kevin continued to chat as he cut my hair. Apparently, Jake only served clients in the VIP section. To get into that room, you had to have spent at least ten thousand dollars at the salon. “That much?” I exclaimed, surprised. Kevin seemed unfazed. He took a strand of my hair, snipped it, and continued, “Our Tony is worth it! Who can blame him for being so skilled?” His tone was dripping with envy. I looked at Kevin. He wasn’t bad-looking himself, and he was younger than Jake. Logically, why wouldn’t those rich women choose him? I asked curiously, “You’re pretty handsome too. Rich women should like your type.” Kevin paused for a moment, then burst into a happy laugh. “Sis, you’re too kind!” He put down his scissors and leaned in close, whispering, “Tony has his own methods. He knows how to make those rich women willingly open their wallets for him.” I looked at him, shaking my head, curious. Kevin sighed, speaking as if he were disappointed in Jake. “It’s pickup artistry, you know? I heard he’s a master at it. No feelings involved. If they’re pretty, he uses them for sex. If they’re rich, he bleeds them dry.” Just then, I heard someone shouting at the entrance, “I *have* to see Tony! I know he’s here! No one else will do!” The girl stood at the reception, hands on her hips, yelling loudly. No one around moved; everyone just kept busy with their work. I was shocked. I pointed at the girl. “Hey, aren’t you going to do something?” Kevin shushed me. “We see this all the time. Someone always comes looking for Tony after a while.” I looked back at the girl. Her face was flushed with anger. No matter how much she yelled, no one paid her any mind. Finally, Chloe, the green-haired receptionist, couldn’t take it anymore and shouted back, “Ma’am, if you really want Tony to style your hair, I can make an appointment for you.” The girl immediately started spewing insults. “Book my ass! You have no idea what my relationship with him is!” She tossed her head and waved her finger. “I’m telling you, we slept together yesterday! What, he just uses women and tosses them aside now?” Kevin snickered when he heard that. But I couldn’t find anything to laugh about. All I could think was: *Jake cheated. My husband cheated.* I sat there, watching the girl scream, unable to process anything. As I sat there in a daze, Jake emerged from the VIP room. The girl, seeing him, instantly changed her demeanor. She scurried over to Jake, calling out sweetly, “Darling, I’ve been looking for you all day! Why did you take so long?” Jake’s face was cold as he stared at her. “This is my workplace. What are you doing, making such a scene?” The girl, who had just been so belligerent, instantly fell silent. She hung her head, standing before Jake, docile as a kitten.

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The woman told me to run away quickly, or I’d be the next one locked up in here. But when she saw my boyfriend, she threw herself at him. Not in hysterical anger, nor in timid pleading. Instead, she kissed him. So passionately, so tenderly. It made my skin crawl and my breath stop. 0A skeletal woman was chained up in the basement. Her cheeks were sunken, her body covered in bruises. An iron chain around her neck kept her tethered like a dog in the dark, sunless space. I stood on the stairs, our eyes meeting. My breathing quickened for no apparent reason. She seemed surprised to see me there. I told her my boyfriend had brought me to his hometown to meet his parents. Just as I was about to ask who she was, she suddenly became hysterical upon hearing this. She shouted at me: “Run! Get out of here now!” Her sudden outburst startled me. With a trembling voice, I asked her why. But her next words sent chills down my spine. “Because if you don’t leave, you’ll be the next one locked up in here!” 0

I had been dating Lucas for six months and we were planning to get married. He invited me to his hometown to meet his parents. Lucas was considered a good man by everyone, and his parents had always been very caring towards me. Today, because I wasn’t feeling well, I stayed alone at his house. Her words made me uneasy, so I left the basement as quickly as I could. When I came up, I found Lucas had already returned. He handed me a bag of sweet apricots, but I could barely taste them. I tentatively asked, “Have you ever brought other women back here before?” Lucas’s fingers paused for a moment, then he wiped the juice from the corner of my mouth and smiled, “I’ve already told you, I’ve only had two exes.” Lucas had always kept his social circle simple, coming home on time every night. Even when he occasionally went out drinking with friends, they were all people I knew. I knew I shouldn’t doubt my boyfriend. But who was that girl in the basement? I nodded thoughtfully, suddenly remembering something. I probed further, “Was one of your ex-girlfriends… the one with a birthmark on her wrist?” His face instantly darkened, and I felt inexplicably nervous. Lucas demanded to know how I knew about the birthmark. I suppressed the fear in my heart and tried to act calm, telling him he had mentioned it once before and I had remembered. I’ve always been attentive to details, so this explanation should be believable. Lucas stared intently at my expression. I unconsciously swallowed, cold sweat breaking out all over my body. Suddenly, Lucas smiled. He went into the inner room and took out a photo from the drawer, handing it to me. The woman in the photo was clearly the woman in the basement. Next to her stood Lucas and his parents, all smiling at the camera, clearly a family portrait. Lucas pointed to the family photo and explained that the one with the birthmark was actually his sister. His sister had an accident some years ago and became mentally unstable, often running away on the streets. She almost got hit by cars several times, so they had no choice but to keep her locked up at home. I suddenly understood and felt relieved. But then I thought, even if she was his own sister, she shouldn’t be locked in the basement. However, this was their family matter, and I didn’t feel it was my place to ask more questions. As I glanced at the photo again, I couldn’t help but feel that their smiles seemed somewhat forced. 0

In the middle of the night, I was awakened by a nightmare. I looked to the side and found no one there. Feeling uneasy, I decided to go out and take a look. As I passed through the living room, I heard voices. It was Lucas’s voice. What was he doing up at this hour? I quietly hid behind a pillar and saw candles burning in the room, casting Lucas’s shadow on the window. I saw him holding a knife, stabbing downwards quickly. I heard a muffled thud, followed by a splash of blood on the window. A patch of crimson, with a faint smell of blood in the air. In that instant, fear swept over me. The scene from earlier flashed in my mind – Lucas was killing someone! I suppressed the terror in my heart, hiding there not daring to make a sound. Then I saw Lucas hack down again, and another splash of blood spurted out. My heart was pounding violently. I wanted to call the police with my phone, but then remembered I had left it in the bedroom. I was about to sneak back to the room when I turned around and saw his mother standing expressionless behind me, who knows how long she had been watching. “Where are you going, Mia?” 0

I was terrified, my whole body trembling. I managed to force a stiff smile. “Oh, I was just going to the bathroom.” As I said this, I instinctively looked back and saw Lucas’s hawk-like eyes staring at me unblinkingly. I looked at the knife in his hand, my back already damp with cold sweat. I was debating whether to cry for help when Lucas suddenly frowned, quickly walked over and felt my forehead. “You look so pale, are you running a fever?” I swallowed hard, looking at his concerned expression, unable to reconcile it with his actions of killing someone. After hesitating, I finally spoke up. “What were you… doing just now?” Lucas seemed confused for a moment, then took my hand and led me into the room. As soon as we entered, I saw a dead pig tied to a bench, several knife wounds on its body, the air thick with the smell of blood. Even so, I breathed a sigh of relief. I scratched my head awkwardly and asked sheepishly, “Why are you butchering a pig in the middle of the night?” His mother smiled kindly, taking out a piece of pig liver from a basin and handing it to me. “It’s because we saw you weren’t feeling well and thought you needed some nourishment.” I looked at her gnarled hands stained red with blood, feeling somewhat uncomfortable. I realized it was all a misunderstanding. I smiled awkwardly and left, my heart filled with gratitude. I didn’t see the smiles on Lucas and his mother’s faces turn cold the moment I turned my back. 0

Back in the room, I still couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning. Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was Lucas’s cold expression as he held the knife. The more I thought about it, the more uneasy I felt. People usually kill pigs with one cut to the throat, but Lucas was torturing it cruelly. After much hesitation, I went back to the basement. His sister seemed to have anticipated my return, sitting on the ground waiting for me even in the middle of the night. I looked at her with pity, but when our eyes met, hers held only coldness. “You don’t believe me.” I smiled awkwardly, not knowing what to say. Suddenly, she stood up, making the small space feel even more cramped. I looked at her suddenly fierce face in the candlelight, feeling a hint of fear, and unconsciously took a step back. There was a “crack” sound, like I had stepped on something. I looked down and almost screamed – it was a human bone! My breathing instantly became rapid, and my forehead was covered in sweat. When I looked back at his sister, I saw her playing with a leg bone in her hand. I was so scared I nearly fainted, and turned to leave, but she stopped me. She shoved the leg bone into my hands, and I quickly let go as if it were scalding hot. In the darkness, his sister’s smile seemed even more terrifying. She leaned in and whispered, “Well, do you believe me now?” My thoughts were in turmoil. The evidence was right in front of me, no matter how much I wanted to defend Lucas. His sister told me that just because she had witnessed her brother killing someone years ago, he locked her up here and buried that person’s bones in this basement. I listened, horrified, and immediately said I would call the police. His sister quickly tried to stop me when she heard I wanted to call the police. I reassured her, “Don’t be afraid, I’ll make sure justice is served.” But his sister still shook her head in fear. “It’s useless, they all say I’m crazy, no one will believe me… If you want to leave, go find Mrs. Johnson at the edge of town, she can help you.” I looked at this poor woman, touched that she was still trying to help me even in her condition. Early the next morning, I made an excuse to go out for a walk. Lucas insisted on coming along, saying he was worried I might get lost in an unfamiliar place. It was a small town with only about a hundred households, and we soon reached the edge. There was an old house there, its door slightly ajar. While Lucas was smoking, I quietly pushed open the door, but was immediately hit by a terrible stench that made me cough repeatedly. It was very dark inside. After my eyes adjusted, I could make out the scene. On an old bed in front of me was a woman who looked like death, tied up. Around her stood at least four or five half-dressed men. They had eerie smiles on their faces, looking at me with interest like predators eyeing their prey. Goosebumps instantly covered my body. I instinctively took a few steps back, only to bump into something. I turned around to find Lucas blocking the doorway, who knows how long he had been there. His eyes were examining me coldly, sending chills down my spine. “This is the town’s brothel. What are you doing in here?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “297030”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #重生Reborn