My childhood best friend, who happens to be a massive A-list actor, claimed his pipes burst and came over to my place to shower. But while he was in there, I accidentally answered a FaceTime call from the current “it girl” co-star he was rumored to be dating. “What are you doing, babe?” “He’s in the shower. Do you want to call back later?” Right at that moment, my best friend’s voice echoed from the bathroom: “Hey, can you grab me a towel?” With that one sentence, the entire internet exploded. His carefully crafted “single and unavailable” persona? Fake. His secret, hidden-away girlfriend? Very real. 01 Liam Wright is my childhood best friend; we grew up together. When we were little, I was determined to be his “boss,” but somehow, he beat me to it by becoming Hollywood’s newest obsession. So, I lost my chance to make him call me “boss.” To keep his ego in check, every time I watched his shows, I made sure my curtains were pulled tight. Like right now. Watching him play the devoted, silently suffering golden retriever trailing after the female lead, I clenched my fists. He was always a complete goofball in front of me, but on TV, he was playing this innocent, lovesick puppy. Swish. The curtains were suddenly ripped open. The same Liam who was just standing in the pouring rain for love on my screen was now standing in front of me, soaking wet. The outline of his abs was faintly visible through his clinging shirt. He waved a hand in front of my face. “Forgot what I look like?” I smoothly hid my iPad behind my back. “No. What are you doing playing wet t-shirt contest in the middle of the day?” “Just tell me you’re tempted.” “I will literally punch you into next week, believe it or not.” I raised my fist, pretending to hit him. My heart, however, was secretly racing like a wild horse. “Hit me then.” He smirked, reaching out to ruthlessly ruffle my hair. He swaggered past me with his long legs. “A pipe burst at my place. I came over to use your shower. You don’t mind, right?” 02 “How does a pipe just burst out of nowhere?” “It couldn’t handle how hot I am.” He moved fast, shutting the bathroom door before I could run over and smack him. “If my pipes burst because of you, I’m ending you.” He has the exact same phone as me, a white iPhone 14 Pro Max. He’s also incredibly lazy, so when he liked my phone case, he forced me to order him the exact same one. So, when a ringtone went off, I instinctively grabbed the phone and hit accept. The audio came through before the video buffered: “What are you doing, babe?” “I missed you so much.” Those two sentences left me absolutely stunned. I finally realized I had accidentally answered Liam’s phone. “Uh, he’s in the shower right now. Do you want to call back in a bit?” “He’s in the shower? Wait, who are you? Don’t you know you shouldn’t answer other people’s phones?” She frowned, firing off three questions in a row. I was just about to explain when Liam’s voice rang out from the bathroom: “Hazel, grab me a towel, would you?” “Hold on—” 03 The call had already been disconnected. I had to put the phone down and go find a towel. “Open up, towel delivery.” I knocked on the bathroom door. “Yeah. I’m opening the door now, don’t go peeping again.” “…” What did he mean by again? I instantly felt a vein pop in my forehead. During our junior year of high school, I went over to his house for late-night snacks. His bedroom door was cracked open, so I just walked in like I usually did, right exactly as he walked out of his bathroom, completely naked. That was the first time I ever saw the usually arrogant golden boy blush bright red and flee back into the bathroom like his life depended on it. Who knew that later, he would insanely twist that memory into me peeping on him while he showered. Thinking about it, a faint heat rose to my cheeks. “Who wants to look at you? It’s not like I didn’t see you running around bare-bottomed when we were kids…” A man’s hand reached out—defined knuckles, faint blue veins tracing the back—and snatched the pink towel inside. He let out a soft scoff. “Why is it still pink?” “It’s the only color I have. You got a problem with it?” “I wouldn’t dare.” His tone was so incredibly punchable. When he finally came out, I tossed his phone at him. “Some girl FaceTimed you earlier. I think it’s the one you were rumored to be dating last year. I thought it was my phone, so I answered it. Are you guys actually…” He glanced at me. “Don’t let your imagination run wild. I’m single.” He took the phone, checked it, and his brow furrowed slightly. Then, he casually tossed the phone aside. He lowered his head, drying his hair with the pink towel. The line from his neck to his waist formed a sharp, incredibly attractive arc. “You’re not going to call her back?” “Too busy. I’ll deal with it later.” For some inexplicable reason, I let out a quiet sigh of relief. 04 “Oh right, have you been watching my latest show?” As he leaned closer, the scent of my gardenia body wash wafted over from him. I blurted out, “Of course not.” Who knew that the second after he slowly nodded and said, “Haven’t seen it, huh?”, he’d lunge forward and snatch the iPad right out from behind my back. I shot up from the couch. “What are you doing?!” He laughed. “Nothing. Just checking your watch history. Why are you overreacting?” No, no, absolutely not. If he found out I secretly watched his shows, he’d probably brag about it for the next five years. “Give it back!” But Liam calmly sat down on the sofa, leaned back, and held the iPad high in the air, completely out of my reach. “Tsk, can those short little T-Rex arms reach this?” I launched myself at him, using all my strength to grab the iPad, and yanked it tight against my chest. I was just about to flash a victorious smile when I suddenly realized I was literally straddling his lap. My upper body was pressed against his, the position incredibly, undeniably compromising. “Don’t fucking pose like that…” He tilted his head back, his Adam’s apple bobbing. A burning heat instantly spread from my ears to my cheeks. But before I even had a second to scramble off him. BANG. My front door swung open. The heavy tension in the air was instantly shattered by two synchronized “Holy shits.” My best friend Chloe and our other childhood friend, Noah, stood there, jaws on the floor. “Holy shit, you two have been hooking up behind our backs?! How could you betray the trust of our childhood friendship?! Fake sobbing…” “Ahhhhh, my eyes! I shouldn’t be seeing this! Oh my god!” “We are not hooking up!” I sprang off Liam like I was launched from a catapult. “This jerk stole my iPad, I was just about to teach him a lesson.” Liam leaned back against the sofa, looking perfectly content, like he had just been thoroughly ravished. “Yeah. She was teaching me a lesson.” 05 Noah looked at Liam. “Bro, you know you’re trending at number one right now, and you’re just chilling here playing around?” Me: “Isn’t trending his default state of being?” Noah tossed his phone to me. “You’re involved in this one too. Take a look.” The words “Liam Wright Hiding Secret Girlfriend” had a massive red “BREAKING” tag next to them. My heart instantly sank, and I shot Liam a shocked look: “You have a secret girlfriend? Since when…” The next second, Liam’s fingers pinched my upper and lower lips together. “I just told you. I’m single.” Noah patted my shoulder. “Whoa, whoa, hold the banter. We have a massive situation right now!” Chloe chimed in. “Yeah, you two really need to look at this.” I didn’t think much of it until I looked—then I almost had a heart attack. —It turned out that the FaceTime call earlier was from the current “it girl,” Aria Stone, while she was live-streaming a reality show. I clicked on a trending clip from the show. It was a small prank segment where the female cast members had to call a “guy friend,” tell him “I miss you,” and see how he reacted. One of the cast members suggested: “Has anyone called Liam Wright? I really want to see his reaction, hahaha.” The moment she said that, the live chat immediately started tagging Aria. She acted shy. “Oh my gosh, you guys guessed it. I was just about to call him.” She immediately dialed Liam’s number. At that moment, the livestream viewership spiked to its absolute peak. And then came the part I had just personally experienced. When it started ringing, Aria nervously touched her chest, looking incredibly expectant as she delivered the highly anticipated, “I miss you.” But the voice that answered was mine. Then, the top half of my face appeared on screen, saying he was in the shower. The live chat instantly derailed. The screen was flooded with nothing but question marks. “Whoa, WTF is happening???” “Wait wait wait? Did I hear that right? A girl just said he’s in the shower?” And then, when Liam’s voice echoed from the bathroom asking me to bring him a towel, the chat exploded completely. “I’m just watching a reality show, and my man suddenly has a girlfriend?!” “‘Hazel’? We need a full FBI investigation on that name ASAP!” “Nooooo, they told us he was a single, unavailable ice king! It was all a persona! I’m sobbing.” “Hey, can the girl take the phone into the bathroom? Not that I want to see anything, but it’s just rude to shower off-camera.” The comments were scrolling so fast I couldn’t even read them. Aria still had a smile pinned to her face, but she quickly ended the call, the amusement completely vanishing from her eyes. “Oops, sorry guys, I think I accidentally dialed the wrong number…” But a male cast member next to her leaned in, sounding absolutely certain. “Let me see. No, that’s definitely Liam’s contact.” Aria’s expression instantly froze. “Then maybe it’s his sister…” “No way. Liam has mentioned in interviews that he’s an only child.” The live chat instantly seized the opportunity to spam: “She’s just his ‘sister’… sure, Jan…” 06 And then Twitter basically broke. #LiamWrightSecretGirlfriend #LiamWrightMysteryGirl #LiamWrightShowersWithoutATowel Fortunately, only the top half of my face was visible. Aria had played the role of the female lead’s best friend who secretly pined for the male lead (played by Liam) in his massive hit crime thriller. Her character’s silent, unrequited love resonated with a lot of viewers. As a result, a massive wave of “shippers” were constantly looking for proof that they were dating in real life. On the night of the finale, their names trended together for hours. A lot of fans had been hoping for a happy ending for them off-screen. Now, looking at the chaotic discussions online, some were wailing that Liam wasn’t “staying pure.” But mostly, it was people crying that their ship had officially sunk. Me: “Liam, I think I might have accidentally caused a massive disaster for you…” He tossed his phone aside. “I don’t think it’s a bad thing. I actually think it’s pretty great.” “How is this great?” Liam: “Since she decided to call me on a livestream, I was going to end up trending with her name attached to mine no matter what I did today. Now, that’s not going to happen.” Chloe chimed in: “He’s right! If you hadn’t answered, today’s headlines would definitely be about Liam and Aria. But because you picked up, the entire narrative shifted. That show ended a year and a half ago, and she still occasionally posts vague, ‘secret crush’ quotes to piggyback off his fame. It’s so annoying.” I understood now. “Oh, so you’re saying I actually did you a favor?” “Exactly,” Chloe winked at me. “Why don’t you guys just admit you’re dating and capitalize on the hype, hehe.” Me: “What are you even talking about? We aren’t dating, what is there to admit…” Noah nudged Liam with his shoulder: “It’s fine. You two can just confess to each other right now and boom, it’s real. Keep the good stuff in the family, right?” Hearing the word “confess,” my heart inexplicably skipped a beat. Liam’s expression shifted slightly. He shot Noah a look: “Back off. You think this is something to joke about?” I guiltily joined in: “Yeah, exactly.” Soon after, his manager called to discuss a crisis management strategy. After taking the call outside, Liam came back into the living room. “Hazel, the producers are going to call back in a minute. Do you want to go on camera with me to clear this up?” 07 On the show, the other guests had finished their calls. Only one guy was left, a baby-faced actor named Connor. He got his cue from the producers. “I’m good friends with Liam. Since he was busy showering earlier and I don’t think everyone got enough of the drama, I’ll call him again, hehe.” Soon enough, Liam’s phone rang beside me. As soon as he answered, Connor said in a sickeningly sweet voice, “Missed you, bro.” Liam clicked his tongue. “Knock it off. I know you’re filming.” “Liam, Liam,” Aria suddenly leaned into the frame. “It’s us!” But the moment I stepped into the shot, the smile on her face stiffened slightly. Connor’s eyes widened in surprise. “Whoa, Liam, is this your girlfriend?” “She’s my best friend. We grew up together. My pipes burst, so I came over to borrow her shower.” Then he explained why he was at my house. Of course, he was mostly explaining it to the audience watching the livestream. Connor played along, “No wonder! You guys are childhood friends.” I held up my phone to the camera. “Sorry about earlier. Our phones look exactly the same. I thought it was mine ringing and just answered it without looking.” Connor flashed a gossipy smile: “But why do you guys have the exact same phone case? The internet is convinced they’re matching couple cases, haha.” Liam: “I thought her case was cute, so I just had her order me the exact same one to save time.” I nodded. “Exactly. Our relationship is completely platonic.” After saying that, I looked at him. Neither of us was used to being this serious in front of each other. The moment we made eye contact, we couldn’t hold it together and both cracked a smile. Liam pinched my cheek. “Keep a straight face. Give me a little respect here.” I tried to stifle my laughter. “Okay, okay.” It reminded me of high school when our homeroom teacher made us do a poetry reading together. We had practiced it perfectly. But when the teacher made us do a dry run at the front of the class, we made eye contact halfway through and both burst out laughing. Just like now, the more people watching, the harder it was to keep a straight face. While we weren’t paying attention, the vibe in the live chat completely shifted. It was entirely flooded with variations of “YOU GUYS ARE SUS.” “Sus. The way they look at each other is so sus.” “Sus. There is definitely something going on there.” “Sorry to break the chain, but is Liam secretly in love with her? That soft look in his eyes, the cheek pinch… I literally cannot stop myself from overthinking this AHHHH!” “Omg, the childhood friends-to-lovers trope is everything! Why is Liam acting like this in front of her? I’m crying.” “Just stop denying it and announce it already.” “I’ve been reading a childhood-friends romance novel lately, and now I finally have faces to imagine it with, hehe.” “Damn! I always thought this guy was totally clueless about romance, turns out he was secretly blooming this whole time.” Amidst the chaos in the chat, Aria’s voice suddenly cut in. “By the way, Liam, the viewers were asking: if you hadn’t known it was me calling earlier, would you have blushed?” The live chat was instantly confused. “Who asked that? The viewers?” “You clearly wanted to ask that yourself, don’t use us as a shield.” “No,” Liam answered flatly. “I generally don’t answer FaceTime calls from people I’m not close with. Plus, this is my work phone. Today was just a complete accident.” It was a brief statement, but the implications were massive. “Hahahaha, Aria, are you sure you’re not just here to act as their wingman?” “So, Liam and Aria aren’t even close? I thought they hung out all the time off-screen.” “I’m so done. In past interviews, Liam clearly stated he wouldn’t date anyone in the industry. The fans just refused to listen and insisted Aria was his exception. They got slapped in the face today, huh.” “Honestly, Aria pulling stunts like this every time has completely ruined any goodwill I had for her.” “Liam has my heart. He never clarifies rumors this directly. He’s actually anxious this time. He isn’t worried about the audience misunderstanding; he’s terrified his childhood bestie will misunderstand! I’m sobbing.” “Seriously, this authentic childhood friends ship is so much better than those forced, fake Hollywood showmances.” I watched the rapidly refreshing comments. I didn’t think much of it until I looked—then I almost had a heart attack. “Guys, stop making stuff up. You know how Liam looks at people. He looks at a dog with deep affection.” The chat instantly flooded with “WE DON’T BELIEVE YOU.” Me: “If you don’t believe me, ask him. His phone is full of terrible, ugly pictures of me.” Liam: “Yeah. I have gigabytes of them.” But the chat was impenetrable. “Keeping gigabytes of her pictures and refusing to delete them? True love confirmed!” “I don’t care, even if the President says otherwise, there is definitely something going on between you two.” I patted Liam’s arm. “Control your fans. Shipping anything and everything is only going to hurt them.” Liam’s lips curved into a smile as he looked at me. “Is that so? I heard shipping a little bit of everything is a balanced diet.” “???” How could he be making jokes at a time like this? I secretly punched his leg under the table, but he caught my fist in his hand and refused to let go. A tingling sensation spread from my fingertips, rushing up to heat my ears. 08 Before I could even process what was happening, the narrative online shifted yet again. Some gossip account had somehow dug up my TikTok profile. “Liam’s PR team won the lottery today. A small-time influencer ‘accidentally’ answered his phone while he was showering, trying to get famous. They played along, created this ‘childhood best friends’ persona, and the internet ate it up. Isn’t this PR stunt way more effective than a cease and desist?” “Wait, does anyone actually believe childhood friends buy matching phone cases, shower at each other’s houses, AND accidentally answer FaceTime calls? You don’t even need half a brain to know that’s impossible, right?” Yes, I have a TikTok account with about 300k followers. When I was studying in London, I’d often post pictures and videos of my daily life. I didn’t care about the follower count; it just kind of happened. I never expected that one day I’d be labeled an “influencer” by a gossip blog. And suddenly, a bunch of “sober” voices emerged. “I knew it was a PR stunt from the start. It’s hilarious how many people are falling for it.” “Honestly, I wanted to say this earlier. How could there be so many coincidences? A burst pipe? An asteroid hitting your bathroom would be more believable.” “That girl did it on purpose, obviously. But everyone is shipping them. So funny.” “I knew yesterday it couldn’t be a childhood friend thing. What guy friend has so little boundaries that he showers at a girl’s house? Turns out she’s an influencer…” “Pack it up, everyone. Rich guys and actors all end up with influencers eventually. We all know how it goes.” “The modern male celebrity’s go-to excuse to avoid being cancelled: ‘She’s just my childhood friend.’ If she’s really his childhood friend, why was there zero trace of her when he was in college?” “Exactly. Liam debuted in college. If he had a childhood best friend, his hardcore fans would have dug her up years ago.” “Aria is the real victim here. The look in her eyes earlier actually broke my heart.” A flood of unprecedented hate comments poured into my vlog account. “Don’t think we don’t know what you were trying to do by answering that call. Your desperation for fame is practically spilling out of the screen.” “Stop playing innocent. Everyone knows exactly what you’re trying to pull.” 09 At the same time, Aria posted a tweet late at night. It made my jaw drop. It was a few selfies of her with tears streaming down her face. “Rewatching the show I was in, I still want to cry. Having a secret crush is so painful.” Her tweet was instantly picked up by the gossip blogs. “Oh, honey, stop thinking about that man. He likes influencers, he doesn’t deserve you! Crying emojis” “So Aria is the only one still stuck in character. She bore the weight of it all alone.” A massive wave of people expressed their sympathy for her. “Wait, don’t get distracted by the narrative here. Aria has been clinging to Liam’s fame for relevance this whole time. Why is she acting like the victim now?” Whenever Liam’s fans tried to defend him, they were swarmed and mocked: “Hilarious. You actually thought that girl was just his childhood friend?” “Fans are selectively blind. You’re defending him, but he’s not going to date you.” “I’ve been a fan for four years, and I think he and Hazel look great together. Is that a crime?” “You claim to be die-hard fans, but it took you four years to find out he has a childhood friend named Hazel?” “…” 10 It was the middle of the night. The controversy was still brewing, and I didn’t want to act impulsively. I was terrified that one wrong post would be twisted by the gossip blogs. Liam was probably asleep too. No matter how anxious I was, I had to wait until tomorrow to discuss how to clear things up with him. I tossed my phone aside. Out of sight, out of mind. Sleep was more important. The next morning, I was woken up by my phone vibrating incessantly. Chloe: “Hazel! Look at Twitter! Liam posted photos of you guys!” 11 Liam’s clarification post went up at 4:00 AM. It was a carousel of nine photos. They were pictures of us together, from childhood all the way to adulthood. There were photos of us at the beach, sliding down slides at the playground when we were little, standing on the high school track field, reciting poetry together at the podium, and that one time on a snowy street in London. “To those spreading rumors, enough is enough. If this isn’t what childhood friends look like, would you like to discuss the definition with my lawyers?” Once those photos were released, the rumors shattered instantly. The internet exploded. “Haters, come out and apologize right now! Just because you don’t have a childhood best friend doesn’t mean no one else can!” “Ahhhhh! 4:00 AM! This is the fastest response I’ve ever seen! He refuses to let his girl suffer even a tiny bit of injustice. I’m sobbing.” “Those gossip accounts are fucking shameless, always trying to control the narrative. What did the ‘Blank Canvas’ (Liam and Hazel) ship ever do to you? So angry!” “Haters, open your titanium eyes and look at this! If this isn’t a childhood romance, what is? Stop claiming ‘all men are trash’ just because you thought your fave was messing around with an influencer!” He was even replying to people’s questions in the comments. Comment: “What are you going to do about those gossip accounts spreading rumors?” Liam: “Nothing. Just preparing to sue them.” Comment: “Did your pipes really burst? [Doge emoji] [Doge emoji] I don’t even want to expose you.” Liam: “They really burst. [Doge emoji]” Comment: “Bro, why did no one ever capture you guys together during the years you debuted in college? Shouldn’t childhood friends hang out often?” Liam: “She was going to university in the UK. Did you think I didn’t want to hang out with her?” “Hahahahaha! Am I detecting a hint of resentment in that sentence?” “The 8th photo was taken in London!!! Liam went to London to see his Hazel! Weren’t there fans who spotted him in the UK a few times back then? Case closed! He was going to see Hazel! I’m crying.” Eagle-eyed netizens even found the account that frequently interacted with me in my TikTok comments. “He is amazing. He commented on every single video. The most frequent question was, ‘When are you coming back to the States?’” The hate comments from before were buried. “Haters, please stop. If you scare our sister-in-law into not posting videos anymore, what is Liam going to look at?” Several alumni from our high school graduation year also stepped forward. “Oh my god, haters just invent things out of thin air. Calling her an influencer instead of a childhood friend? I’m so done. We were shipping Liam and Hazel back in high school, okay?” The atmosphere in the comments section under Aria’s crying tweet also drastically changed. “Girl, wake up. That ship sailed a decade ago. Stop being so dramatic, okay?” “You really know how to play the victim to rally your fans.” She quickly scrambled to post another tweet. “Sorry guys, couldn’t you tell I was just acting as a wingman??? I also think the ‘Blank Canvas’ ship is adorable. I posted that on purpose. Couldn’t you tell?” Netizens gave their sharp critiques. “The last time I was this speechless was the last time she did something like this.”

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On the day I was diagnosed with stomach cancer, his childhood friend announced her pregnancy on Facebook. Ethan rushed home and signed the divorce papers, but he threw my diagnosis report on the floor with disdain. “Sophia, don’t you think this pathetic attempt to win me back is a bit unnecessary?” 01 Ethan saw the divorce papers I had prepared, and at the same time, he saw my diagnosis report. “Sophia, stop using these pathetic tricks.” Ethan casually tossed the paper on the floor. “I’ve been using you all along. My love for you was all fake.” “I know,” I replied softly, my stomach cramping in pain. I had known since the day he testified against my father in court, since his childhood friend, Chloe, told me it was my father who had ruined their families. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. Just pretend you didn’t see it.” I carefully put my diagnosis report away and handed him a pen. “Asking for a few million in the divorce settlement shouldn’t be too much for Mr. Vance, right?” I couldn’t defend my father’s actions. But Ethan had lied to me for ten years; that had to be worth something. When I went to visit my dad in prison, he looked incredibly haggard. He said, “Sophie, don’t blame Ethan. It was all my greed back then. You two live a good life together, and just remember to visit me often.” Fighting back a sob, I forced my tears down. I said, “Okay.” I had promised my dad I would live a good life. I was going to get treatment, survive, and strive to outlive him. Ethan’s cold sneer pulled me back from my memories. “A few million? Is that enough to pay off his debts?” Ethan flipped open the agreement and read it carefully. “Should I have my lawyer revise this?” Every word hit my heart like a block of ice. “My father wronged you, and he wronged many people. I know that. But you don’t have to pay for it.” My hand holding the paper curled up, wrinkling the edge, my sweaty palm slowly dampening it. “This money buys my ten years. It’s enough.” “Fine.” Ethan nodded, his jaw clenched, his eyes terrifyingly cold. He had disguised himself perfectly for ten years. In front of me, he let me throw tantrums and vent my emotions on him. He had always been careful to protect my feelings, his expression as gentle as day one for ten years straight. This was the first time I had ever seen him angry. The veins on the back of his hand bulged, and the pen looked like it was going to snap in half. Ethan signed quickly. His handwriting was a bit messy due to his haste, and every stroke was so forceful it seemed to tear through the paper. “My dad bought this house for us as a wedding gift. I plan to sell it to pay off some of his debts. I’ve already packed your things; they’re in those big boxes. The things you gave me are in there too.” As I spoke, I subconsciously looked down and noticed a small patch of skin on my ring finger that was a different shade—where my wedding ring used to be. When Ethan proposed, he told me that if I put it on, I would be tied to him for a lifetime. I had cried and replied that a lifetime was too short; I wanted the next life too. But there were no two lifetimes, not even one. We only had ten years. To me, those ten years felt fleeting, but for Ethan, every day must have felt like a year. “You…” I interrupted him: “You packed so fast. Why did you always pretend to be so scatterbrained before?” A sentence can have completely different meanings depending on the tone, and Ethan’s was clearly sarcastic. I used to be very scatterbrained, and Ethan always kept the house perfectly organized. My lips curled up slightly: “It’s not fast. It’s been two months since my dad was sent to prison, Mr. Vance.” He hadn’t been home for two months, but I could see his updates on Chloe’s Facebook. I knew Chloe posted them deliberately for me to see. As for why we were Facebook friends… it was because she was Ethan’s secretary. Three years after Ethan started his company, she barged into our lives. She pretended to be my good friend, sending me dozens of messages every day, sharing details of Ethan’s life at work, making me completely drop my guard around her. Little did I know, it was all exactly what she wanted me to see. Ethan’s pupils contracted, and he pursed his lips in silence. “When it comes to pretending, Mr. Vance is clearly the master.” I forced the corners of my mouth up, refusing to let my tears fall. Ethan’s tall figure loomed over me, and the smell of nicotine instantly flooded my nose. “Pregnant women shouldn’t be exposed to secondhand smoke. Think about Chloe and smoke less.” I placed my hands on his chest and pushed him away. Chloe’s latest Facebook post was a picture of a positive pregnancy test. At that time, I was holding the freshly printed divorce agreement. The paper was warm, but my hands and feet were ice cold. I guess I should have ‘liked’ it. Ethan hadn’t expected my push and stumbled back two steps before catching his balance. A flash of shock crossed his eyes, but he quickly returned to his cold demeanor. “Didn’t you say you were selling the house? I’ll offer 10% above market value. Sell it to me, and you leave.” As soon as he finished, I was the one in shock. I didn’t understand why Ethan was being so spiteful. Maybe he just had too much money and nowhere to spend it. I had no reason to turn down money, so I nodded. “But before the contract is finalized, I’d like you to move out first.” “I’ll call my lawyer right now to draft the purchase agreement. I’ll wire you the money together, and you move out.” Ethan was inexplicably acting like a petulant child, his jaw clenched tight, emphasizing the words “you move out.” His anger was his business, but this arrangement suited me perfectly. I nodded again: “Arrange it however you like. I have an appointment this afternoon.” With that, I went into the bedroom to pack my own things. There wasn’t much left. After removing what I gave Ethan and what he gave me, and considering I was in a rush to leave, I had already purged my belongings once. The moment I closed my suitcase, the purchase agreement was sent over. The moment I signed, I caught sight of my relieved smile in the mirror. I looked up and met Ethan’s eyes, startled by his dark, brooding face. On a whim, I said to him, “Pleasure doing business with you.” As I was leaving, a large box flew past me and landed in the trash can in the hallway. The loud crash startled me. Before I could recover, another box flew into the trash. I didn’t need to look back to know it was Ethan. He was throwing away the trash. One box was the things he gave me; the other, the things I gave him. When I regained my composure, I didn’t look back and stepped into the elevator. Strangely, until the elevator doors closed, I didn’t hear the sound of his door shutting behind me. 02 Ethan’s money arrived very quickly. It seemed he was even more eager to end this relationship than I was. But surprisingly, we ran into each other that very afternoon, in the hospital’s obstetrics and gynecology department. The child of one of the victims from years ago had just been born. Due to a breech presentation, they faced exorbitant medical bills. I wanted to help them. Of course, I also hoped they might put in a good word for my dad. The woman’s husband said she refused to see me. He also said that since she had just given birth, her emotions were unstable, and he asked me never to appear before them again. Dejected, I left the maternity ward, only to bump straight into a couple: Ethan and Chloe. Their shock at seeing me was equal to mine. I had no desire to humiliate myself, so I pretended not to see them and quickened my pace to walk past. As we brushed past each other, my wrist was suddenly grabbed. A large, slightly damp palm clamped down on me. My forward momentum was halted, and my heart gave a sharp jolt. Terrified, I looked up into Ethan’s bloodshot eyes. The smell of nicotine on him was even stronger than this morning, making me dizzy. Just how heavy of a smoker was he? I couldn’t stand the smell of smoke. When I was little, my dad would only smoke in the bathroom when the craving hit him. But in the ten years I was with Ethan, not once did I taste even a hint of nicotine bitterness, not even when we kissed. He truly had incredible endurance. He must have suffered a lot over these ten years. The pain in my wrist quickly made me discard my inner self-mockery. Ethan’s voice dropped near my ear: “Why are you here?” I looked up into his eyes, which seemed to be desperately suppressing some intense emotion. But right now, besides awkwardness, I only felt confused. “Our marriage is over. I don’t need to report my schedule to you.” I didn’t want to show my vulnerability to Ethan and Chloe. My grip on my handbag tightened, my nails digging into my palms. “Are you pregnant?” Ethan took a step closer, suddenly closing the distance between us. Hot breath laced with nicotine washed over me. Chloe, standing nearby, widened her eyes and bit her lip resentfully. I let out a silent laugh and looked down, prying Ethan’s fingers off one by one. “Mr. Vance is overthinking things. Your protection was always very thorough.” A few years ago, I did want a child. But every time I brought it up with Ethan, he would always say his company was just starting out, and if we had a baby too early, he was afraid he wouldn’t have time to spend with them. I thought about how my dad frequently missed my school events because of work, and felt Ethan made a valid point. After a few times, I let it go. So, I hadn’t brought it up in years, only hoping his company would stabilize soon. If he had a child with me, he would be tied to that child for the rest of his life. And that child would be a permanent barrier between him and Chloe. Those excuses were just meant to stall me. He had been with Chloe for two months, and she was already pregnant. It clearly showed it wasn’t about fearing a lack of a father’s presence, but about not wanting a child with me. As soon as I finished speaking, a crack appeared in Ethan’s expression. “Sophia, don’t lie to me,” he said through gritted teeth. “I have no reason to lie to you.” The strong smell of nicotine made me frown slightly, and I took two steps back to widen the gap between us. Chloe watched Ethan, her face gradually darkening. “Then why are you at the obstetrics department?” he asked again, pointing at the large sign above the department door. Only then did I notice he was still wearing the watch I had given him. It was my birthday gift to him the year we got married. But I had clearly packed this watch into the box, the very box Ethan had thrown into the trash that morning. So I leaned toward another possibility: I must have seen wrong. “One of the victims is here. I came to visit. Is Mr. Vance satisfied with that answer?” I didn’t understand why Ethan kept pressing me, insisting I tear open my scars for him to see. But I knew that if I didn’t explain clearly today, I might not be able to leave. Neither Ethan nor Chloe would allow for the possibility of my pregnancy. I forced back the welling tears and made myself flash a strained smile. This time, they didn’t stop me from leaving. 03 Three days later, after visiting some of the families harmed by my father, I returned to the hospital for a follow-up. “Your condition is in the intermediate stage right now. As long as you receive active treatment, the chances of a cure are very high.” The doctor was a man around my age named Liam. For some reason, his name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t remember where I had heard it. My stomach started cramping again. As I stood up, my feet felt like they were stepping on cotton—powerless. I felt a bit dizzy, and by the time I came to, he was holding my arm, steadying me. “You look terrible,” Liam said. “I recommend you get admitted as soon as possible.” “Give me a little more time. I still have some things to do.” I wanted to finish visiting all the victims’ families, hoping to make amends for my dad, and I wanted to wait until his sentencing was announced before I was admitted. “Sophia, don’t be stubborn. While there is life, there is hope.” This was the first time Liam had used my first name directly, and I was slightly taken aback. I met his serious gaze, then quickly lowered my head and looked away. “Give me a few more days. I want to wait for my dad’s sentence.” Those few short words drained all the strength from my body. After a long pause, Liam replied, “Okay.” “I’m off the clock too. Where do you live? I’ll give you a ride.” Before I could speak, Liam offered. “It’s fine…” I waved my hand weakly. “I can go back myself…” “With your current condition, how can you go home alone?” Liam sighed. “Ms. Miller, I don’t want you joking around with your life.” He spoke very seriously, like a teacher scolding a bad student. Helpless, I could only nod. Since coming to the hospital for check-ups, I had seen Liam a few times. We didn’t have much to talk about, and the ride was silent. Until… He parked his car in the underground garage of my rented apartment. The moment I stepped out, headlights from the opposite car flashed directly at me, blinding me for a few seconds. When my vision cleared, I saw it was Ethan’s car. He was suddenly right in front of us. With a loud thud, Liam was knocked to the ground, a glaring smear of blood on the corner of his mouth. My mind was in chaos. I had no idea why Ethan suddenly appeared here, nor why he hit Liam. I quickly shoved Ethan away and helped Liam up. “What are you doing?” Ethan’s eyes looked murderous, a dark, hostile aura filling his pupils. “What are you doing?” he pointed at Liam. This time, I saw the watch on his wrist clearly. The strap was engraved with his initials, ‘EV’. It was definitely the one I gave him. “Bringing another man home the very day of our divorce. Sophia, if you commit adultery, I think our divorce agreement should be void.” Ethan’s words carried a gritted-teeth intensity. Liam warily tried to shield me behind him. Seeing this, Ethan raised an eyebrow and reached out to grab me first. With a cold sneer, I raised my hand and slapped him. The crisp sound echoed through the underground garage, and Ethan’s cheek quickly swelled. He slowly turned his head back, clearly caught off guard by my slap. “Ethan, have you lost your mind?!” My palm stung fiercely. The recoil kept my hand hovering in the air, trembling slightly. “That child in Chloe’s belly is yours, isn’t it? After all these years at the company, you know perfectly well what you two did behind my back! If we’re really going to calculate who cheated first, you’re the one who should be leaving with nothing!” My face felt like it was burning. I realized I was screaming, tears uncontrollably streaming down my face. I looked pathetic. And it was all in front of Liam, an outsider. To my surprise, Ethan actually laughed after hearing this. “What if I told you that Chloe and I have never been intimate, and when she went to the hospital for a check-up today, she told me the positive pregnancy test in the photo wasn’t hers?” Ethan’s gaze shifted to Liam, and he leaned in closer. “What about you?” Ethan’s words were like a bombshell, completely overturning all my previous certainties and leaving me at a loss. I didn’t understand why he was acting like this. One moment he agreed to the divorce, throwing away everything that held our memories, and the next, he appeared before me in a rage, questioning my relationship with Liam. “Are you alright, Mr. Vance?” Liam spoke before I could. He wiped the blood from his mouth with a tissue. “I think you’ve misunderstood. Ms. Miller and I are strictly doctor and patient. Given her current health, I didn’t feel comfortable letting her drive home alone, so I offered to give her a ride. “I also hope Mr. Vance can manage his emotions and think before acting. Since you’re already divorced, there’s no need to harass her. If you’re trying to reconcile, don’t use such an aggressive approach.” Liam finished and exchanged a glance with me. “Ms. Miller, remember to get admitted on time and take care of yourself. Goodbye.” I nodded at him, full of guilt. “About today… I’m really sorry.” He gave a small smile. “Don’t blame yourself.” Ethan seemed lost in Liam’s words, unable to snap out of it for a long time. I couldn’t be bothered to deal with him anymore and headed straight for the elevator entrance. Hurried footsteps sounded behind me: “Sophia, that report… is it real?” Ethan caught up with me and pulled the door shut just as I had opened it. I looked up, meeting his somewhat vacant eyes. “Does it have anything to do with you? Wasn’t your goal to ‘catch me in the act’ so I’d leave with nothing?” Just like that morning, Ethan still refused to believe the report. But before it was disdain; now, it was denial. “Sophia, it’s not like that…” He scratched the back of his head in frustration, then suddenly grabbed both my hands as if he remembered something. “The reason I came is because Andrew told me just now that he’s selling all his shares. He also told me that the person who initially invested was actually you.” He looked at me, his eyes full of remorse and helplessness. “Why?” he asked. “Because I loved you.” When you like someone, it’s just like that. You only want them to be happy, you don’t want to see them defeated by difficulties, you don’t want to see them sad or dejected. So back then, I took out all my savings and asked Andrew to put on an act for me. I knew Ethan’s pride, so I never planned to tell him the truth. Even when I needed to sell the shares to pay off my dad’s debts, I didn’t let Andrew reveal the truth. I didn’t expect Ethan to find out anyway. “I said loved, Mr. Vance. Don’t misunderstand.” I tried to pull my hands away, but his grip only tightened. “And now?” he asked, the anger surrounding him instantly turning into an obsession. “Now, I don’t love you anymore.” Since he never loved me, why should I keep loving him? Ethan’s eyes flickered, as if stung by something, a faint shimmer in the corners of his eyes. “Why…” “You clearly loved me so much. Why divorce me just like that?” He grabbed my hands and pulled me into his arms, the strong smell of nicotine enveloping me. 04 “Ethan, don’t you find yourself ridiculous?” Unable to bear it any longer, I kneed him hard. He groaned and bent over, but his hands still held on tight. “Sophia, can we start over?” He looked up, tear streaks faintly reflecting the light. “You had plenty of chances to say that. From the time my dad was arrested until you testified against him, for two whole months, you were all lovey-dovey with Chloe, yet you wouldn’t even give me an explanation. Do you think we can start over?” “I only think of Chloe as a sister,” he said, sounding weak and pale. “But she never saw you as a brother. Every single one of her Facebook posts is proof of that,” I retorted. “I didn’t know about those posts.” “I don’t care. Ethan, what’s done is done. Let’s just end it here and leave each other with a shred of dignity.” “Sophia, for the past two months, I’ve been thinking… thinking about how to win you back… Signing the divorce papers was me acting out of spite. I never thought you could be so heartless…” Before he could finish, a phone rang, and my hands were finally released. Ethan pulled out his phone. The screen flashed “Chloe.” One second he was giving a deeply emotional explanation, the next he didn’t hesitate to answer Chloe’s call. I really couldn’t tell which of Ethan’s words were true and which were lies. “Chloe, I’m dealing with something urgent right now…” “What?” “I’m coming right now. Don’t do anything stupid!” Watching Ethan’s brow furrow into a deep scowl as he swiftly stood up. So even deep affection has two faces. I sneered inwardly. Free from Ethan, I couldn’t be bothered to engage with him anymore. I quickly scanned my face to open the door and got into the elevator. It wasn’t until the “ding” sounded that my heart finally settled. But my phone vibrated restlessly. I picked it up to see a text from Ethan: “I’ll come pick you up tomorrow morning. Wait for me.” I let out a silent, cold laugh and blocked his number. That very night, I admitted myself into the hospital. Partly to hide from Ethan, and partly because Liam had discussed it with me and strongly advised early admission. If I needed to leave, he would approve it based on my condition. But the truly ridiculous part was that the person waiting for me the next day wasn’t Ethan, but Chloe. I agreed to see Chloe because she said Ethan sent her to handle the transfer of the house’s ownership with me. But the first thing she said to me was: “Sorry, I was feeling down last night, so Ethan came to keep me company.” She was dressed to the nines, flawless from head to toe, her eyes brimming with smugness. But the dark circles under her eyes, barely concealed by foundation, couldn’t lie. Perhaps those dark circles represent other unspeakable secrets? I mocked myself inwardly for overthinking. “It’s fine. I should be thanking you for getting me out of a tight spot.” My calm response made her smile falter. She dispensed with the pleasantries and got straight to the point: “Sophia, even if my pregnancy was a lie, the person Ethan cares about most will always be me. Don’t think you can win his heart back by secretly getting pregnant!” With a smack, she threw a card at me. “There’s five million in here. Get rid of the child in your belly. If your dad manages to make it out alive, this money will be enough for him to live out his old age.” Unaware of how ridiculous she sounded, she looked at me with haughty arrogance. So, Ethan was telling the truth. Chloe wasn’t pregnant. But from her words, it was clear Ethan tolerated her behavior. “As for the PIN—” Chloe’s voice snapped me back to reality, a malicious smile forming on her lips. “It’s 180907.” “That’s the day Ethan flew tens of thousands of miles just to save me.” September 7, 2018, was the day Ethan changed his flight to end our honeymoon early. His excuse back then was a sudden emergency at the company that required his immediate attention. Maybe Ethan was such a good actor back then that I never felt insecure. Or maybe I trusted Chloe too much and never overthought it. I remember at my wedding, Chloe was my bridesmaid, and I personally handed my bouquet to her. “I hope you find your own happiness soon.” I had said it sincerely. At the time, Chloe’s eyes filled with tears, and as she took the bouquet, she broke down crying. I thought she was crying tears of joy for me, but looking back, seeing the man she loved forced to marry someone else must have been devastatingly sad. During the honeymoon, Chloe had been contacting Ethan intermittently. Ethan would always step away to take the calls. Because I trusted him completely, I didn’t bother paying attention. The last time, Chloe’s voice sounded incredibly panicked. One second later, my lips would have met his. But the moment the phone rang, he pulled away. The name “Chloe” flashed on the screen. Ethan almost subconsciously stepped back and answered it. Because the volume was a bit loud, I could faintly hear Chloe sobbing. Lost in the honeymoon bliss, I didn’t suspect anything. My first thought was that there was a massive crisis at the company that Chloe couldn’t handle. After all, she had been contacting him quite frequently during that time. Sure enough, half an hour later, Ethan looked at me guiltily: “I’m sorry, there’s an emergency at the company. I changed my ticket. I’m leaving tonight.” “I’ll go back with you.” “I promised to spend a whole month with you. Won’t it be too rushed if you come back with me?” Ethan’s face showed no signs of lying, his eyes full of apology as he reached out to stroke my hair. I naturally grabbed his hand. “A honeymoon is for two people. What’s the point of me being here alone? Besides, if we go back separately, my dad will definitely think we had a fight. There’s no need to worry him.” Ethan offered a small smile and nodded. “Okay.” Even though I also rebooked my flight, after landing, Ethan didn’t go home with me. He very “thoughtfully” called two cars. One to take me home, and the other, supposedly, to take him to the office. Only now did I realize that his actual destination that day was Chloe’s apartment. The memory playback in my mind ended. “I’m not pregnant, and I don’t want your money…” “Sophia!” Chloe interrupted me, leaning on the table as she stood up. “Are you still lying? If you’re not pregnant, why would Ethan pull strings to get his hands on your medical report?” Chloe’s words hit me like a physical blow, sending a shock through my body. “What…” “Sophia, do you know what I hate the most? It’s how you pretend not to know anything, when in reality, you’re just as calculating as I am, aren’t you?” Chloe’s face darkened. “Hello, Mr. Vance. Is it true that you donated 3.6 million dollars to the Cancer Foundation?” “Yes, because my wife was recently diagnosed with cancer as well. I hope to use this opportunity to build some good karma for her, and I hope all patients can be like her—actively seek treatment and never give up.” … A familiar voice suddenly came from the restaurant’s TV. Both Chloe and I turned to look. It was Ethan. He was smiling at the camera, and whether intentionally or not, he was twisting the wedding ring on his finger—the ring he should have taken off a long time ago.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “439058”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I harbored a secret crush on Ethan for ten years, never daring to confess, until I was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer. I tied him up and slept with him again and again. His eyes red with rage, he struggled: “Harper! Let me go if you dare.” I thought that once I let him go, he would furiously strangle me to death. Instead, he fiercely claimed every inch of my body, day and night without rest: “Harper, do I look weak to you? How dare you drug me?” 01 I had a crush on Ethan for ten years. From my teenage years into adulthood. He lived in the house right next door to mine. I watched him grow from a green youth into an increasingly mature man. I was completely mesmerized by the mature, masculine charm he exuded, but I never dared to say anything. I was afraid that if I spoke up, he would reject me, and then we would be over. That was until ten days ago when I fainted at work and was rushed to the hospital. The doctor looked at me with deep regret: “Terminal brain cancer. It’s too late. There’s no longer any medical value in treatment.” I couldn’t just die like this. I hadn’t traveled the world yet, and I hadn’t slept with Ethan… My mind was flooded with the dark romance novels I’d been reading recently—all about twisted, forced love. I was about to die anyway; was it so wrong to do something drastic? I called Ethan and invited him over for dinner. Ethan was the CEO of his own company and very busy. But he still agreed to come over later. When Ethan arrived, he looked travel-worn, wearing a long black coat. He brought a gust of cold air with him. Only then did I realize that he had been abroad when I called. He flew all day, came back, and walked straight into my trap. I felt a twinge of guilt. I tried to find an excuse to make him leave, but he walked straight to the dining table and sat down. Before I could say anything, he started helping himself to the food. I watched as he drank the Tom Yum soup—which I had heavily spiked. He even raised an eyebrow at me while drinking. “Haven’t seen you for a while. Your cooking has improved.” Of course, it had improved. Because that was takeout from the highest-rated Thai restaurant in the city. Why takeout? The reason was simple: I was afraid my cooking would be so bad he wouldn’t eat enough for the drug to take effect. By the time I went to the kitchen to grab a bowl and came back, his eyes were already starting to glaze over as he sat at the table. I bit my lip: “Are you tired? Do you want to rest?” He nodded: “A little dizzy.” “Then go rest for a bit.” We had known each other for years, so all defenses had long been dropped between us. He obediently followed me to the guest bedroom. 02 Ethan fell asleep. I struggled to take off his coat, then stared blankly at his torso faintly visible through his white dress shirt. I pursed my lips, feeling a bit panicked and my mouth going dry. But I still didn’t have the courage to completely undress him right then. I rummaged through my closet and found a pile of ties I had wanted to give him over the years but never had the nerve to. Today, they came in handy. I used the ties to bind his hands and feet directly to the bed frame. After laboriously finishing all that, I lost my strength and slumped onto the edge of the bed. Looking up, I saw his handsome, peacefully sleeping face. He was very calm right now. But I could imagine what kind of fury would erupt when he woke up. Just like the fury he showed that one time his mother suggested we should just get married. I stared at his face, not even bearing to blink. I kept thinking that in a few days, I would never be able to see him again, so I just wanted to look my fill all at once. I had been a kind, selfless person for over twenty years. In the end, I insisted on being selfish just this once. Even if he hated me, it didn’t matter. That way, when I died, he wouldn’t be sad at all. His phone in his coat pocket kept ringing; it was his assistant, Liam. Without much hesitation, and afraid of waking Ethan up, I answered it. “Ethan was too tired; he fell asleep after eating.” Liam tactfully hung up the phone. Gradually, my eyelids grew heavier and heavier. I simply crawled into bed, hugged Ethan’s waist tightly, and fell into a deep sleep. I was woken up in the middle of the night by Ethan’s roar. “Harper!” I shot up into a sitting position. The sudden movement made me dizzy; my vision went black, and I fell heavily back into Ethan’s chest. “Harper! What the hell are you doing?” What was I doing? I propped myself up on my elbows and looked at him in confusion. “Guess.” Ethan’s face grew even darker. I kneeled on the bed, looking down at him: “Since you’re awake, let’s get down to business.” Ethan frowned deeply, both arms trying to break free from their restraints. I panicked a little, terrified that if he actually escaped, all my efforts would be in vain. I squeezed my eyes shut and threw my whole body onto him. “Don’t move! Listen to me!” Ethan ground his teeth in hatred. “Are you crazy?” I lifted my head slightly; my face was no more than four inches from his. “I’m not crazy.” “Then what are you doing?” “I’ve got you in bed. What do you think I want to do?” Ethan’s pupils contracted sharply, the disgust on his face impossible to hide. “Harper! I am Ethan!” “Do you have any decency left as a woman?!” I didn’t want to hear his accusations, so I grabbed something soft from the nightstand and shoved it into his mouth. Ignoring his eyes that looked ready to spit fire, I glared at him fiercely. “Shut up!” Ethan tried to break free, but found it useless. My heart was pounding wildly in my chest. “I’m going to kiss you. Don’t interrupt me.” With that, I yanked the gag out of his mouth. Before he could speak, I closed my eyes and kissed him viciously. I clumsily pulled at his dress shirt; the buttons were ripped off one by one and scattered onto the floor. Like someone fleeing an apocalypse, I refused to stop, desperate to find an exit. I had a chest full of pent-up emotions, which I released bite by bite all over Ethan’s body, accompanied by his low grunts. I remembered something my friend Chloe once said: When a man is in bed, he only thinks with his lower half. Sure enough, amidst my somewhat aggressive actions, Ethan actually didn’t open his mouth to curse me. Just a continuous stream of grunts. Afterward, Ethan’s face was flushed, as if he had suffered a great humiliation. I couldn’t bear to look and put on my clothes, wanting to go to the bathroom to shower. Seeing me leaving, Ethan called out to me. “Harper!” I turned to look at him: “What?” His eyes were red with anger. “Let me go if you dare.” I was stunned for a second, then gave a nonchalant smile. “I’ll let you go, but not right now.” 03 After my shower, I originally wanted to go back to my own room. But I remembered Ethan’s eight-pack abs; they were so firm. So, I went back to the guest room. Ethan wasn’t asleep yet; he was staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. Like a frog waiting to be dissected in an experiment. Seeing me enter, he cursed through gritted teeth: “Let me go!” I shook my head: “No.” “Do you have no shame?!” “What exactly do you gain from doing this?” “Didn’t your mother teach you to have some self-respect?” He struck a nerve. On purpose. I pursed my lips and said nothing, just silently walked forward. I kicked off my slippers, got straight onto the bed, and straddled him. He frowned and was about to curse me again, but I reached out and covered his mouth. “Shut up and listen to me. “I’ve known you for eleven years and liked you for ten. I’ve thought about giving up, but I just can’t accept it. “I know you don’t like me. People say whoever loves more should take the initiative, so I’m taking the initiative. “I just want you, and struggling is useless!” With that, my eyes red, I lowered my head and kissed him. Ethan’s lips were thin and cool, like they tasted of mint. I was already exhausted, but I clearly felt a change somewhere on him. I lifted my head, looked at his face, and smiled. “Why pretend to be some pure, untouchable CEO? You’re just like any other guy!” The sounds Ethan made throughout the whole process made me blush, and… extremely satisfied. When I opened my eyes again, Ethan was already awake. But thankfully, his expression didn’t show that he had “suffered great humiliation.” Seeing me awake, his voice was raspy as he called my name. “Let me go.” “No.” He looked somewhat resigned and started trying a different approach. “Harper, what exactly is wrong with you? How long do you plan on keeping me tied up?” I counted on my fingers, then flashed a number at him. “7 days.” Ethan was completely speechless: “Why are you doing this?” “No reason,” I said calmly, throwing on my robe and getting out of bed. “I just insist on staying with you for a full seven days.” I thought Ethan would be angry, but he laughed. “This is illegal imprisonment. You know how many things I have to do every day, how many people will be looking for me. If I just disappear like this, do you think you can keep me here until the seventh day?” I stood by the bed, unable to move a single inch. It was true. He was a grown man. If he didn’t cooperate, how long could I actually keep him here? “Harper, untie me, and I promise I won’t leave.” I froze for two seconds, then stubbornly shook my head. “I don’t believe you.” “Harper, I have very important things to do. You can stay by my side, but you have to let me out.” Ethan thought I would definitely agree if he made a concession. But I refused without a second thought. I told him very stubbornly: “Until the police bring people to break down my door, you can only stay here.” Ethan knew it was a dead end. His dark eyes scanned me from head to toe several times. Finally, he unexpectedly compromised. “If you keep me tied up like this for seven days, my hands and feet will be ruined. Is that what you want?” “No.” “But I have no other choice. I can’t fight you off, and I can’t stop you, so I can only inconvenience you like this. Harper, I swear on my grandmother’s name, I won’t leave for seven days.” Grandma Vance. I knew how important she was to Ethan. I also knew she was genuinely good to me. When she passed away, Ethan and I hid in a corner and cried our hearts out together. That was the first time I ever saw Ethan cry. “You need me to cooperate, otherwise it’s highly likely your door will be forced open by this afternoon.” Ethan’s attitude was very sincere. I also knew he was telling the truth. The CEO of his company going missing—how could that not be a major incident? I wanted to keep him, but I didn’t want to leave a bad reputation behind after I died. I could guess with my toes how nasty and outrageous the media would make the story out to be. I compromised. I threw his clothes at him, then freed his hands and feet one by one. He gritted his teeth, flexing his stiff hands, and ruthlessly criticized: “I never realized before what a crazy woman you are.” I kept a straight face: “There’s a lot you never realized.” He stared at the messy pile of ties on the floor and turned to look at me in disbelief: “Where did you get all these ties?” “Whenever I saw one I thought would suit you, I bought it. I accumulated this many without even realizing it.” Well, at least I didn’t buy them for nothing; they finally found their use on him. “Why didn’t you just give them to me?” I sneered: “I don’t make a habit of chasing after someone who acts like I don’t exist.” Ethan’s face turned slightly cold. “So you just forced yourself on me?” I blushed from my face all the way down to my toes. When I was acting crazy, I didn’t care about the consequences. But now that I was calm and hearing him say it, I suddenly felt incredibly embarrassed. To get a man, I actually tied him up. But I quickly let it go, telling myself that doing something like this in my lifetime made it all worth it. 04 Ethan was a man of his word. After I untied him, he didn’t try to force his way out. He just asked for my laptop. “Are you going to email Liam for help?” Ethan looked at me like I was an idiot. “Is your brain not working right? If I wanted to leave, would I need to call someone for help?” My brain wasn’t just not working right; it was completely broken. I handed him the laptop. I had already quit my job anyway, so I didn’t need it. Ethan sat on the balcony handling his work, while I curled up on the living room sofa, quietly watching him. The sunlight poured in at what seemed like the perfect angle, giving me the illusion of a “peaceful, quiet life.” Except this “peacefulness” was something I had shamelessly kidnapped him for. The afternoon sun was glaring, and as I watched, I felt sleep creeping up on me. I tried hard to stay awake, but eventually lost consciousness. When I opened my eyes again, Ethan was nowhere to be seen. I jumped up, barefoot, and panicked, looking around wildly. Until I violently pushed open the bathroom door. My heart dropped back into my chest from my throat, but my sanity abandoned me the moment I saw him. I lunged at him. I had no experience, so I just bit and gnawed haphazardly, only wanting to leave marks. My heart felt like a lost deer, crashing wildly against my ribs. I clung to him like an octopus with all my might, terrified he would throw me off. In my daze, I heard Ethan’s helpless sigh, and then a strong arm scooped me up. “You’re an absolute lunatic, but I like it.” Like what? Before I could process it, he bit down on my neck, and then the tables were turned. I was starting to believe Chloe’s words more and more. In a man’s eyes, love and sex really are two completely different things. Afterward, the thick fog of lust faded, and Ethan leaned against the headboard, studying me. “Harper, I seriously suspect you’ve been possessed by some sort of demon.” Having known me for so many years, it wasn’t strange that Ethan had his doubts. After all, I was completely different from before. “Yeah,” I nodded seriously. “A sex demon.” Ethan narrowed his eyes: “Why doesn’t the sex demon go after someone else?” I tilted my head and thought about it: “Probably because you were the only easy prey around.” I grabbed my phone to order takeout, but Ethan stopped me. “What? You personally cook to lure me here, use me up, and now you’re brushing me off with takeout?” I couldn’t be bothered with him. Half an hour later, the takeout delivery knocked on my door. Ethan watched the yellow paper bag in my hand, his pupils contracting violently. When he saw me pull out a tiny box of pills from inside, he completely lost it. He rushed over and grabbed my chin. “Harper! What the hell are you doing? You’re taking this kind of stuff?” I struggled to speak: “You want me to give birth to an heir for you?” Fury covered Ethan’s face, even the tilt of his eyebrows expressing his rage. His fingers clamped down harder. “You dare to pull a stunt like this, but you’re afraid of having a baby?” “You’re hurting me!” I struggled to break free from his grip, but I knew he was genuinely angry. So I made up a reason that sounded plausible. “Of course I want to have your heir, but I just remembered I took a lot of antibiotics for a cold a couple of days ago.” I frowned at him: “What? Are you hoping I have a kid so you can use it to blackmail me?” Ethan looked away, his voice chilling. “In your dreams, you greedy woman.” “Ethan, you don’t usually act like this towards me! I forced you, sure, but if you hadn’t been willing, I wouldn’t have been able to force you anyway!” Ethan was angry, and I thought he would just turn and leave. But he just slammed the guest bedroom door shut with a loud bang. Heh, quite a man of his word. It made me feel a bit guilty. 05 In my school days, I saw Ethan as the ultimate nice guy. Gentle and polite, but also great at joking around. When his family moved into the house next door, my parents were going through a messy divorce. He watched as I was dumped in the big house, and then my parents never showed up again. I sat crying silently on my front porch, and he was the one who handed me tissues and milk candy. Later, he transferred to my school, same grade but different class. From the moment he arrived, he dominated the number one spot in the grade and never let it go. When I was first abandoned, I was depressed for a very long time. He was the one who brought me lunch from home during the day and came over to help me with homework at night. And later, he introduced his parents to me. Mrs. Vance and Mr. Vance were so good to me, often acting like my own parents. Especially Mrs. Vance; whenever we went shopping for clothes, she would always pick out things for me too, and have Ethan drop them off at my house. I felt incredibly embarrassed. But Mrs. Vance would always smile and pat my shoulder: “Don’t be silly, Harper. I’ve always wanted a daughter, and I just feel such a connection with you. When I see something that suits you, I just want to buy it for you.” When Ethan walked me home, he’d pat the top of my head and laugh: “My mom just likes you. Just accept whatever she gives you. We know you don’t lack money.” It was true. Regarding living expenses, those two so-called parents of mine never shortchanged me. It’s just that they both seemed to treat me as a projection of their failed marriage, so neither of them wanted to look at me ever again. The Vance family was like a warm ray of sunlight piercing through my darkest times. His parents loved me like their own child. I knew his family were genuinely good people. I also knew they felt sorry for me. But now, I had tied up their son. Did I feel guilty? I shook my head. Not at all. If he wasn’t willing, I couldn’t have done a thing. When I thought like that, I was crazy enough to be somewhat delusional. Ethan went into the guest room and didn’t come out all afternoon or evening. I looked at the table full of food, having no appetite. I knocked on Ethan’s door. “Dinner’s ready.” To my surprise, he opened the door and walked out after just a few seconds. He sat down at the table as if nothing had happened. But he remained silent, every pore radiating a “stay away from me” vibe. However, his mood didn’t affect me anymore. Besides buying the pill, I had also bought a bunch of condoms. Deadpan, I held out the different flavors for Ethan to choose from. Ethan lost it. “Are you really this desperate for me?” I nodded earnestly: “Probably.” He snatched a strawberry-flavored box from my hand and laid rigidly on the bed. Maybe it didn’t fit the mood perfectly. But a line of poetry suddenly popped into my head. “May you gather as much as you please.” I worked hard on Ethan, and his movements grew increasingly intense. In the end, he bit down on my ear. “Harper! I seriously want to kill you!” I didn’t have the energy to speak. But in my heart, I thought, You won’t have to lift a finger; you’ll get your wish soon enough. … After three days of this, Ethan’s energy remained normal. He could still handle company affairs remotely with great vigor during the day, and even found time to mock me. I, on the other hand, started feeling unwell all over. So, I kicked Ethan back to the guest room. Ethan leaned against the doorframe, looking at me with a half-smile: “Bored already?” I couldn’t be bothered with him, so I nodded: “Bored.” His response was another loud bang of the door.

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After transmigrating as the mother of a Mary Sue novel’s female protagonist, I awakened a System. Beside me lay a babbling infant. The System’s voice buzzed with excitement: “You need to abandon her. Leave her with her alcoholic, abusive father. “She will grow up amidst hardship and abuse, blooming like a resilient wildflower in adversity, which will ultimately attract the attention of the heir to the Sterling Group. “Once they are married, you can come back to acknowledge her, and you’ll get to live a life of luxury in high society.” I looked at the giggling baby and stayed silent for a long time. “What if I don’t abandon her?” The System froze, clearly not expecting anyone to ask that. Quickly, its tone turned mocking: “Then she will become the most ordinary, average person. She’ll go to a normal school, work a normal job, and she will never catch the CEO’s eye.” I smiled. “That sounds wonderful, doesn’t it?” If all her suffering is merely to attract a man’s attention… Then not going through that suffering is a beautiful thing, isn’t it? 01 I kept the baby. No, she shouldn’t be called Bella Vance anymore. She is now Harper Reed. I ignored the System’s protests and changed her name from the original novel. She takes my last name now. I hate how girls in these novels are always given names that sound fragile, delicate, and overly sweet. Meanwhile, the male leads get names carefully handpicked from classic literature, brimming with depth and power. I love the name Harper Reed. Like a strong reed, standing tall and reaching for the sun. I want my daughter to escape the fate of depending on others and to live independently and freely. 02 When Harper turned seven, she started elementary school. She was cheerful and outgoing, loved by her teachers and classmates alike. Until one day, she came home crying. The French braids I had carefully styled for her were a mess. I asked her what happened. She choked out, “Tommy keeps pulling my braids during class.” I knew Tommy. He sat right behind my daughter. I met him at parent-teacher night—a skinny kid who looked a bit too sly for his age. I frowned. “Did you tell the teacher?” Harper nodded. “I did, but…” She hesitated. “But the teacher said Tommy only pulls my hair because he likes me.” I didn’t lose my temper in front of my daughter. Instead, I gently knelt down and said: “Let’s go talk to Ms. Higgins together, okay?” In the office, the teacher with the red-rimmed glasses looked up from her lesson plans with a teasing smile. She pointed her chin toward my daughter, whom I had seated further away. “Harper is a very pretty girl, and a lot of the little boys in class like her. You know how it is, boys at this age don’t know how to express their feelings, so they tease her a bit, pull a braid here and there.” She seemed to want to use that subtle smile to lump us into the same category. A category of women who had endured the same treatment but were supposed to wear it as a badge of pride. But as I remained silent, her smile gradually stiffened. I said flatly, “I don’t ‘know how it is.’ All I know is that my daughter was bullied, and this is harassment.” The teacher seemed offended by the severity of the word. She slammed her thermos down and sat up straight. “Ms. Reed, you are being unreasonable. They are just kids. What do they know about harassment? They’re just playing around.” “Playing around?” I repeated her words. “If it’s just playing around, can we move Tommy to sit directly behind your daughter?” It was an open secret that Ms. Higgins’s daughter was also in this class. The teacher, who had been arguing so vehemently, suddenly froze. And then I understood. It wasn’t that she didn’t know it was wrong; she just didn’t want to deal with it. Just like many hidden rules in our society. They are clearly wrong, but for hundreds of years, no one has stood up to say no. Because breaking the rules is much harder than following them. Tossing out a flippant “they’re just playing” is so much easier than putting in the effort to teach boys to respect women from a young age. But I was going to break that rule. For my daughter. And for the countless girls in the future who would have their braids pulled. To tell them: This is not love. This is bullying. This is harassment. “Ms. Higgins,” I called her back to reality. “You have two choices right now. Number one: you move Tommy to sit behind your daughter. Number two: you separate Tommy from my daughter, and you teach the boys in your class that the right way to like someone is never to bully them, but to respect and care for them.” The teacher suddenly deflated like a popped balloon. “I’ll choose the second one.” Satisfied, I took my daughter’s hand and left. As we walked out, Ms. Higgins indignantly called out, “Ms. Reed, micromanaging like this will affect your child’s normal social development!” Without turning back, I said firmly, “That is none of your concern.” When we got home, I shared my worries with Harper. “Sweetheart, if Tommy stops playing with you because of what Mommy did today, will you be sad?” Over the years, my daughter and I had a pact: always be honest and never keep things bottled up. Harper thought for a moment, then asked timidly, “Does that mean Tommy will never pull my braids again?” I nodded. “Yes.” She suddenly lunged forward and hugged me, her eyes sparkling. “Then you are the best mommy in the whole wide world!” Wrapped in her warm, soft little arms, all my worries vanished. I thought to myself, this is truly the best compliment in the world. 03 That night, after my daughter fell asleep, the System popped up. Ever since I took matters into my own hands and kept Harper, it rarely showed up. It was a silent protest against my actions. But to ensure our mission was completed, it would still occasionally pop out to remind me. Like today— “Host, our ultimate goal is to get the female lead’s Happiness Index to 100%. You need to work harder.” I was suddenly curious. “According to the original plot, when does she hit 100%?” System: “When she marries the heir to the Sterling Group, of course.” I asked, “And what about after the wedding? What is her happiness index then? Have you guys ever checked?” The System suddenly went quiet. And I knew. They had never checked. Just like fairytales that always end with “and the prince and princess lived happily ever after.” But what happens after? Does the princess ever get homesick? While learning strict royal etiquette, does she ever miss the days she ran free in the forest? Is she tormented by conflicts with her in-laws? Will the prince one day fall in love with someone else? All of these things… no one cares about. If happiness is fraught with anxiety and fear of loss, then it cannot be called true happiness. Because something so fleeting cannot support a lifetime. I asked, “What is Harper’s Happiness Index right now? Can you check?” Not out of a system-host’s ambition, but out of a mother’s curiosity. Is my daughter happy right now? The System disappeared for a moment, presumably checking the data. A few seconds later, its voice cracked, completely losing control: “54%… How is this possible?! This is the index she is supposed to reach only after enduring unimaginable suffering, meeting Preston Sterling for the first time, and being rescued by him! What on earth did you do?” I looked down at my sleeping daughter and smiled. “I just did what a mother is supposed to do.” It turns out, the one who saves the princess doesn’t have to be a prince. It can also be the queen. And I believe that in the near future, the one who saves the princess will be the princess herself. 04 A few years flew by, and Harper started high school. Her grades were excellent, and she showed exceptional talent in STEM, especially math. She ranked first in the entire grade in math almost every single time. But one day, she came home looking incredibly depressed and didn’t say a word. I immediately sensed something was wrong and asked: “Are you upset about your latest test scores?” Her voice instantly choked up. “A transfer student joined our grade. On his first exam, he took first place in everything. Including math.” I understood her pain. Having someone beat you in the exact field you excel at is definitely a hard pill to swallow. So I gently asked, “How many students are in your grade, sweetie?” Harper thought for a second. “Six hundred and forty-five.” I smiled. “See? So you didn’t just lose to one person. You beat six hundred and forty-three other people. That’s already incredibly amazing.” Hearing my comfort, her mood visibly improved. But she still looked a bit down. “Mom, our math teacher said girls just aren’t naturally good at STEM. He said even if I’m doing well now, by senior year, the boys will inevitably overtake me.” I kept my smile bright. “And which teacher made this brilliant deduction?” Which. Teacher. Harper sighed. “Our math teacher. He’s the Vice Principal.” The System gloated in my head: “Uh-oh, this one won’t be so easy to deal with.” I turned my head and pondered for a moment. “Sweetheart, do you want to transfer to a better private prep school?” Private schools were much more expensive, but the educational resources were visibly superior. Most importantly, instead of just treating students like subordinates, they treated them like clients. So if someone dared to say “girls aren’t suited for STEM,” I would have the leverage to argue back fiercely. But to my surprise, the one who panicked more than Harper was the System. It screamed in my head: “NO YOU CANNOT!!!” I closed my eyes, annoyed. “Why are you freaking out?” The System frantically explained: “That new transfer student is the secondary male lead! He is a natural genius. He barely tries and gets first place. The female lead is supposed to be crushed by him at first, but gradually, she’ll look up to him as a role model, and their feelings for each other will blossom!” I was confused. “And?” The System was practically tearing its hair out. “Don’t you get it? He’s supposed to be the guiding light on her academic journey!” I kept my bewildered tone. “Treating a rival as a role model just means my daughter has a great mindset. What does that have to do with who the guy is?” The System choked. “But… but…” It stammered for ages without making a coherent point. I continued smoothly, “Forcing the female lead to face setbacks and ‘grow’ isn’t loving the female lead. It’s just creating an opportunity for the male character to show off. At its core, it only glorifies the men. “True love is paving a smooth path for her, giving her the tools to step over everyone else and climb to the very top.” The System fell silent for a long time. Finally, it whimpered, “But in all the missions I’ve ever run, the plot is always like this. The female lead HAS to be misunderstood, framed by villains, and endure every hardship imaginable before she can rise from the ashes and find true happiness.” I shook my head, pointing out sharply, “Then think about the male leads in those stories. Aren’t they always heirs to massive conglomerates? The biggest hardship they ever face in their entire lives is a mild stomach ulcer. The female lead’s happiness relies entirely on his love. If he retracts his love, she loses everything.” I concluded, “These stories are categorized as ‘women’s romance,’ but fundamentally, they’re just male power fantasies.” The System finally stopped arguing. I had completely dismantled its logic. After a while, it sighed. “But if she leaves the secondary male lead, we lose a major plot device to boost her Happiness Index. How is the story supposed to progress now…” I didn’t answer it. Because at that moment, Harper had made up her mind. Her eyes danced with excitement, but she still hesitated. “Can we really? But private school tuition is so expensive.” I smiled and stroked her hair. “Of course we can. Mom has made quite a bit of money over the years.” Over the years, besides raising my daughter, I had been learning to run my own businesses. I didn’t just sit around waiting to die like the original character, hoping to become a rich mother-in-law once my daughter married into wealth. Harper’s eyes grew red, tears rolling down her cheeks. She hugged me tightly. “Thank you, Mom. I know you’re doing this to give me a better environment. I promise I will study so hard and make you proud!” In that moment, I thought, My daughter really has grown up. I used to see parents who loved to practice “hardship education,” constantly complaining to their kids about how exhausted they were and how much they sacrificed. But why do that? It just breeds unnecessary guilt. If you genuinely treat a child well, they will naturally feel it. I wrapped my arms around Harper. “Mom’s greatest hope isn’t about how high your grades are. It’s that you are genuinely happy.” 05 The transfer process was incredibly smooth. With the shadow lifted from her heart, she became even more determined in her studies. I also hired a private math tutor for her. She was a female grad student from MIT’s math department. Perhaps right now, in the STEM fields, there are relatively fewer women reaching the very apex. But that doesn’t mean “girls are inherently unsuited for STEM.” On the contrary, it’s precisely because there are so many questioning voices on this path that girls become increasingly lost and doubtful. More than just tutoring her coursework, my goal in hiring this specific teacher was to provide a role model. Even if very few people walk this path, as long as someone has done it, it proves the path is passable. If someone else can do it, then I believe my daughter can do it too. Because she is so brilliant and resilient. … The day Harper finished her SATs and college entrance exams, my company officially went public. Standing outside the testing center waiting for her, I asked the System, “Can you check Harper’s Happiness Index right now?” System: “One moment.” A few seconds later, it gasped, “76%!” I didn’t understand the scale. “Is that high?” The System’s voice was trembling. “Very high! Out of all the hosts running missions concurrently right now, your score is the highest!” At that moment, Harper came skipping out of the building. She grabbed my arm, smiling brightly. “Mom! The exams went incredibly smoothly. I’m confident. I guarantee you’re going to get a call from MIT admissions!” I smiled and took her backpack. “Oh my god, I guess I’ll be riding my little bamboo shoot’s coattails.” In the original novel, Bella Vance had to work multiple part-time jobs just to scrape together tuition while going to school. Despite working incredibly hard, she was still inevitably dragged down by external drama. She ended up at a perfectly average state college. In this life, I cleared all the obstacles from her path, allowing her to study with peace of mind. She was able to utilize her full potential, getting accepted into the top university in the country. Her life path was visibly widening. Even if she didn’t marry into a wealthy family in the future, she possessed the ability to become her own empire. The System sighed in my head. “Host, maybe your choices were right. You truly changed her life, and you’ve changed my perspective too.” I smirked, neither confirming nor denying. 06 Harper was accepted into MIT’s math department, just as she wished. She was invited back to her old high school to give a speech. On the auditorium stage, Harper stood radiant and confident. After sharing her study tips, she said: “…And finally, I want to say this to all the girls in the audience today. If a teacher ever tells you, ‘Girls aren’t suited for STEM,’ or ‘Boys are late bloomers and will overtake you soon,’ please, absolutely do not believe them. “I am standing here today hoping that in the future, when you start to doubt yourself and your abilities, you’ll think of me. You’ll remember that someone once got into MIT’s math department, and she was a girl too.” The auditorium erupted in thunderous applause. I saw with my own eyes several girls who had been staring at the floor, bored out of their minds, suddenly snap their heads up, their eyes shining brightly. I also saw the Vice Principal who had once belittled my daughter turn ashen. The Principal standing next to him suddenly looked like he had a revelation. As if he finally understood why, despite his desperate attempts to make us stay, he couldn’t change my daughter’s mind about transferring. Losing a top-tier student capable of getting into MIT must have caused him unimaginable frustration. But I didn’t know, and I didn’t care to find out. We had already sailed past those turbulent waters. 07 After Harper went off to college, I poured my focus into my career. We were both fighting hard in our respective fields. A nosy acquaintance once tried to advise me: “Why are you working so hard? You have a daughter, not a son. It’s not like you have to buy her a house or pay for a wedding dowry.” I gave a polite smile. “Wow, being your daughter must be miserable. Thankfully, my daughter is much luckier. The harder I work now, the less she’ll have to suffer in the future. Everything I have is hers, and it’s not just limited to a few houses or a wedding fund.” Her face paled, and she quickly shut her mouth. After she left, the System asked me, “Host, I don’t really understand human emotions. Did she say that because she has a son?” I shook my head. “No. She has a daughter too. An only child.” The System was surprised. “Then why did she say that to you? Doesn’t she love her daughter?” I was silent for a long time, unsure how to explain the complexities of human nature to a machine. “Maybe she loves her, but obviously, even though she gave birth to a girl, she still harbors a deep-seated preference for boys.” Believing that having a son means you have to hustle and fight, but having a daughter means you can kick back and relax. It’s the subtle misogyny ingrained in many people’s minds. In their hearts, they perhaps favor the phantom son they never had. As a result, they project those feelings onto sons-in-law or nephews. So, is it love? Maybe it is, but it’s not a complete love. After all, “where the money goes is where the love flows” is the ultimate, unchanging truth. 08 During Harper’s third month of college, my ex-husband showed up. The System told me that after my daughter got into MIT, our old rural county hung up banners celebrating the news. Unfortunately, my alcoholic ex-husband saw them. He did some digging and discovered that I had founded my own company and was making a fortune. So he went through incredible lengths to get my contact info, demanding money. But I ignored his texts and calls. He showed up at my office building, but security threw him out. He tried to ambush me on the street, but before he could even get close, my personal bodyguards pinned him to the ground. I worked this hard to make money precisely so I could keep toxic garbage like him far away from me. I smiled and told him that if he ever dared to show his face near me again, the people greeting him wouldn’t be licensed bodyguards, but local thugs with a burlap sack. My ex-husband was a coward who preyed on the weak. He nodded frantically, trembling like a leaf. However, not long after, the System informed me that my ex-husband had gone to MIT to find our daughter. I instantly tensed up. “Did he do anything crazy?” I was genuinely terrified that a scumbag like him wouldn’t care about my daughter’s future. He might literally hold up a protest banner at the campus gates or harass her professors and the dean. Making a massive public scene just to blackmail her for cash. The System reassured me: “He didn’t do anything crazy. Your threats terrified him, so he didn’t dare make a scene. He went secretly. This time he’s playing the pity card, claiming he’s destitute and starving, hoping Harper will get a few thousand bucks from you to give to him.” I breathed a sigh of relief. “Good.” The System asked, confused: “Aren’t you worried Harper will be manipulated by him? After all, you’ve never really talked about her dad to her over the years. She doesn’t know her father is an abusive alcoholic. What if she feels sorry for him?” I tapped my index finger on the desk, my eyes darkening. “I trust she has the ability to distinguish right from wrong… Even if she gets scammed this time, consider it a life lesson. It’s just a few thousand bucks. I can afford that tuition.” Not long after, Harper texted me. She said she was entering an AI Robotics Competition at school and needed $30,000 in seed funding. The System sighed in my head. “Looks like she caved.” I didn’t say a word. I just wired the money over. “Host, why don’t you just expose Richard’s lies? And aren’t you angry that Harper lied to you for her father?” I slowly shook my head. I once read a quote: Love is feeling a constant sense of debt. Perhaps that best described my state of mind right now. I didn’t blame my daughter for lying to me. I actually started reflecting on myself. Was it because I hadn’t given her enough love over the years that she would feel sympathy for a “father” she hadn’t seen in over a decade? Thinking of this, I texted my daughter: You’re in college now, entering competitions, your expenses are definitely going up. Mom is increasing your monthly allowance by $2,000. If you need anything, just tell me. Don’t be too frugal with yourself. Her reply was a sweet: Okay, thank you Mom, mwah! 09 A month later, I received a package from an unfamiliar sender. The recipient listed was Harper. That night, my daughter called me, brimming with excitement. “Mom, did you get the package? Open it quickly!” I hesitated for a moment. “What is it? It’s your stuff, I shouldn’t open it. How about we wait until you come home for the holidays?” “I specifically put the home address so you could open it yourself!” Hearing that, my reservations vanished. But when I opened the package, the contents left me utterly shocked. It was a certificate holder, and on the front in gold lettering, it read: “AI Robotics Championship – Gold Medal.” My daughter sounded incredibly smug on the phone: “Am I amazing or what?! Our team’s project even filed for a patent. Big tech companies have already reached out for consultations. We might be able to sell it for a million dollars! That $30,000 investment definitely paid off.” I was too shocked to speak. That money… she actually used it for the competition? “Mom? Mom? Are you still there?” Harper’s voice pulled me back to reality. I quickly responded, “Sorry, sorry, I just spaced out. You are incredible! Mom is so proud of you.” Harper giggled, but then her tone turned hesitant. “Actually, there’s something else…” I held my breath. “My dad came to find me a while ago.” I took a deep breath. “He asked me for money. I ignored him. I debated for a long time whether to tell you. “I was afraid you might feel bad for him, so I didn’t dare say anything. But then I thought about it, and you have the right to know. After all, he was your husband. “Even though you never told me why you two separated, I’m guessing he must have done something terrible to you. “But no matter what, whether you want to help him out or cut him off completely, I support your decision.” After Harper finished, she waited in cautious silence for my reply. Her tone sounded exactly like someone talking to a hopelessly romantic best friend. Terrified she would get hurt, terrified she would go back to a toxic ex. Yet, after immense inner turmoil, resolving to respect whatever decision she made. Though I didn’t want to admit it, in that moment, my eyes welled with tears. I used to think that being a parent meant nothing but giving. Giving unconditionally, without expecting anything in return. But when I saw that the seeds I planted had blossomed into such beautiful fruit, I couldn’t help but feel that every hardship had been worth it. As a mother, I was now the one being cared for, being understood, being supported by her. My little bamboo shoot had truly grown into a tall, resilient bamboo tree. I sniffled quietly, not wanting her to hear my emotions over the phone. “I understand. I won’t give him any money, and I definitely won’t get back together with him. Don’t worry.” As soon as I said that, Harper seemed to let out a massive sigh of relief. “I knew it! My mom is the smartest, most rational mom in the world!” After hanging up, the System, which had been silent, suddenly spoke. “Host, Harper’s Happiness Index just jumped another 5%. It’s at 81% now.” The tears I had just stopped fell once again. My daughter was happy because I was free from suffering. My happiness had become a part of her happiness. 10 During Harper’s sophomore year, the System suddenly alerted me: “Host, Harper just met Preston Sterling.” I was a bit surprised. “I already altered her life trajectory. Why did they still meet?” The System explained: “In the original plot, the female lead bumped into the male lead while working a part-time job at a coffee shop. Now, they’re schoolmates at MIT. They met at the back-to-school gala.” I couldn’t help but sigh. “Fate is like a sudden downpour. Those without an umbrella can’t hide, and those trying to get wet never catch a drop.” … Three months later. During our regular video call where my daughter updated me on her life, her voice suddenly turned shy. “Mom, I think I’m falling in love.” A name immediately popped into my head. But I feigned ignorance and asked, “Who is it? A classmate?” Harper nodded bashfully. “He’s a finance major. We met at the welcome gala. He’s been pursuing me for a while now. I think he’s a really great guy, very considerate.” “What’s his name?” “Preston Sterling.” Without changing my expression, I smiled brightly. “That’s wonderful! College romances are beautiful. You’re in university now, so Mom won’t interfere with your love life. The only thing you need to remember is to protect yourself.” Harper smiled sweetly. “I know, Mom.” After the call, the System asked in confusion: “Host, why didn’t you break them up before they got together?” I countered, “Why should I break them up?” The System sounded even more puzzled: “You put in so much effort to change Harper’s life. If she still ends up marrying Preston and fulfilling the original novel’s ending, doesn’t that mean all your hard work was for nothing?” I smiled and shook my head. “You’re wrong. I poured my heart into raising Harper just so she would have choices. If I interfere with her decisions just to achieve my own agenda, then how am I any different from those toxic parents who rip up their children’s acceptance letters just to keep them close to home? “Harper’s life is hers to decide. The only thing I need to do is support her completely.” I said from the very beginning, I just want my daughter to be happy. That’s all.

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I am known throughout the university as the hot-tempered rich girl. My favorite thing to do is spend money to boss my classmates around. A new transfer student couldn’t stand it and put me on blast online. As a result, I was cyberbullied, and the whole school panicked. Because I paid people $150 just to run errands. And $750 to argue with people for me. My classmates immediately grabbed their keyboards to defend me: [How dare you anger my sugar mama! I’ll fight you!] [I love being her lackey, mind your own business!] The transfer student was stunned. But the netizens went wild, flooding my social media comments: [Please, I want to be your minion too!!] 01 The day the transfer student arrived. It happened to be the day of our class’s basketball game against the rival class. Everyone was crammed together under the scorching sun, looking anxious. Except for me. I was sitting under the shade of a tree, wearing sunglasses, and eating a popsicle. In a thirty-foot radius around me, there were only three other people. One was holding a parasol for me, one was holding a portable fan, and the last one was holding my water bottle. Chloe Sterling appeared right at this moment, carrying her backpack. Wearing a white dress, she aggressively pushed through the crowd and asked indignantly: “Excuse me, did you rent out this entire patch of shade?” I lowered my head slightly, looking at her over the rim of my sunglasses, and readily admitted: “Yeah, I Venmoed them $30 each to give up this spot. I don’t like being squeezed with people in the middle of summer. It’s too hot.” The basketball court was only so big, and the area assigned to each class was fixed. It just so happened that our class’s section had a shady spot under a tree, so I booked it. I stared at her face and suddenly realized: “Oh, you’re the new transfer student the counselor mentioned. Since you’re in our class, you get a share of the shade too. Pull up your Venmo QR code, I’ll scan you $30.” To my surprise, not only did Chloe not pull up her QR code, but she also looked at me with disgust. “For your own selfish desires, you force everyone to cram together under the blazing sun. Aren’t you just acting like a stereotypical evil rich girl from a movie, using money to oppress people? This is too much! This is blatant bullying!” Hearing that last word, I laughed speechlessly. I instantly put away the phone I was about to use to transfer her money. Then I turned to ask the three girls surrounding me: “Am I bullying you?” The three of them hurriedly shook their heads in unison. The one holding the parasol even teared up. “Of course not! You saw that the three of us are struggling financially and were about to be unable to pay our tuition. Out of the goodness of your heart, you hired us to run errands for you. $300 a day for holding the umbrella, $150 an hour for fanning! We can finally pay our tuition! Now I don’t even have to ask my family for living expenses, which greatly reduces their burden.” “Queen B” was the nickname my classmates gave me. I thought it was cute, so I never objected. After hearing what they said, I turned back to Chloe and shrugged: “See? No bullying. They’re all very grateful.” When Chloe heard those numbers, her eyes turned red with anger. She almost couldn’t maintain her holier-than-thou expression. “My living expenses for a whole month are only $150, and you use that to tip someone for fanning you for an hour? You…” She glared at me fiercely: “The school won’t allow someone like you to do this!” With that, she stormed off angrily. Watching her back, I couldn’t help rolling my eyes. Sounding so self-righteous, when really she was just coveting someone else’s money. She was faking it. “But $30 each seems a bit low. It’s not easy for everyone in this heat.” I took a bite of my popsicle, thought for a moment, and turned around to drop $4,500 into our class’s group chat. There are about thirty people in our class, so that’s an average of $150 per person. As soon as I hit send, the crowd in front of me erupted. I don’t know who started it, but someone yelled, “I love you, Queen B!” In an instant, the entire basketball court was covered by similar shouts. Even the players on the court were confused, wondering which player had such an incredible cheering squad. The people from the other classes, upon learning what happened, could only look over with extreme jealousy. They wished they could immediately fill out a transfer form and live a blissful life of being showered with money by me every day. And Chloe, who hadn’t joined the class group chat yet, heard the cheers behind her, stumbled, and almost fell over from anger. 02 The next day during homeroom. Chloe followed our counselor into the classroom. When her gaze fell on me, she wore an extremely smug smile. Sure enough, Mrs. Davis stood at the podium, scanned the room with a sharp gaze, and said: “I’ve heard reports from students that a bad trend has appeared in our class recently. Paying classmates to serve you? Are you here to study or to be an emperor? I won’t name names here, but certain students should watch themselves!” Chloe puffed out her chest, looking triumphant: “Exactly! If I hadn’t told Mrs. Davis in time, she would still be in the dark! Some people really are the bad apple that ruins the bunch, turning a good campus environment into a toxic mess.” Watching this teacher-student duo put on a show, I curled my lip. Growing up, I hated it most when teachers said “certain students” or “some people.” Everyone clearly knows who they mean, but they insist on using these terms. It strips the person being called out of even the chance to defend themselves. So I had no intention of holding back. I stood up with a bright smile: “Mrs. Davis, why don’t you just say my name?” Mrs. Davis’s face darkened: “Audrey Miller, I was planning to give you a chance to reform, but I didn’t expect you to be so shameless as to admit it yourself!” I shrugged my shoulders: “Not at all. I stood up because I wanted to say that you’re right. Spending money to buy services is simply a heinous crime. Although I’m willing to spend the money, and my classmates are happy to provide the service—a free market—since you disagree, this practice must be banned.” The counselor heard the sarcasm in my words. She turned green with anger and pointed her index finger sharply at me. “Audrey Miller, don’t get too arrogant! You will write an essay of reflection. One thousand words… no, two thousand words!” I smiled and continued: “No problem, Mrs. Davis. But before I do, I have a question. Since this whole thing is wrong, shouldn’t my classmates return the money to me? After all, according to you, this is ill-gotten wealth. I’ll give everyone their dignity back, and everyone will return my money.” As soon as those words fell, the entire classroom went silent. The students who had been treating the verbal sparring between me and the counselor as a show suddenly couldn’t sit still. They immediately turned their hostility toward the two people at the podium. “What the hell? Why? I’m happy to buy water for Queen B. What does it have to do with the teacher?” “Exactly! And that new girl. I hate snitches the most in my life. She likes showering us with money, why are you being so nosy?” “I didn’t have money for tuition, so I asked Mrs. Davis for a low-income grant. She turned around and gave the spot to a student she likes. That student uses an iPhone and wears Air Jordans, and she knows it! If it weren’t for Queen B tipping us from time to time, I would have dropped out a long time ago!” “Yeah, I was able to get into the top ten in our grade last semester only because she gave me money, so I didn’t have to work a part-time job. Otherwise, my grades definitely wouldn’t be this good.” “When it comes down to it, it’s all Chloe’s fault. Stirring up trouble as soon as she joined our class. Get out of our class right now, you’re not welcome here!” 03 Hearing the uproar below, Chloe’s face turned pale. She bit her lip and stomped her foot: “Why are you all so ungrateful! I’m helping you regain the integrity college students should have!” It would have been better if she hadn’t spoken; as soon as she did, the arguments below became even fiercer. “Spit! So taking money means having no integrity? Then give all your money to me, and you can stay pure and untainted.” Chloe couldn’t argue with so many people, and tears were forced out of her eyes. She originally wanted to use the counselor to take me down a peg, but she didn’t expect to incite mass outrage. Chloe nervously tugged at the counselor’s sleeve: “Mrs. Davis, I…” Mrs. Davis gave her a comforting look, then slammed her hand on the desk. “Are you all rebelling?! Opposing me like this—do you still want recommendations for internships? Do you still want your credits?!” Instantly, the classroom quieted down again. Having managed students for so many years, she knew exactly how to manipulate them. After all, many opportunities and quotas were in the counselor’s hands. The students below looked at each other, not knowing what to choose. Offend me, and there’s no money to be made. Offend the counselor, and they feared they wouldn’t be selected for many future activities. At this moment, I let out a cold laugh and asked: “Mrs. Davis, what about you? Do you still want your job?” “What do you mean?” “I mean, you’re targeting me today, and it’s not just because of Chloe’s snitching, is it? You know my family is wealthy, and you know I’m generous with my money, but I’ve never paid you ‘tribute.’ You’ve been pissed off for a long time, haven’t you?” Mrs. Davis, having her true intentions exposed, revealed a momentary look of guilt. But she quickly adjusted her expression and reprimanded me loudly: “You need evidence when you speak! Is this how your parents raised you?” Bringing up anything else would have been fine, but dragging my parents into it instantly ignited my fury, and I exposed everything she had done one by one. “Isn’t it true? We have to pay a $150 class fee every semester, but you never publish where these funds go. Weren’t they all embezzled by you? And you secretly accept gifts from parents behind the scenes. Every position in the class has a clear price tag. Do you think we’re all blind?” My words sent a shockwave through the classroom, followed by gasps. Someone realized: “Holy shit, so the class fees were embezzled by her! I was wondering why our class paid ten times more than other classes.” “Are you an idiot? You’re just realizing this now?! If Queen B didn’t give us enough normally, who knows how long I would have had to eat instant ramen to make up for that $150.” Mrs. Davis’s face was now as white as a sheet of paper. In a panic, she stammered: “O-other teachers do this too!” The next second, she violently covered her mouth. But it was too late. That sentence proved everything I said was true. Long ago, she had hinted that I should send her gifts. My dad’s assistant had even prepared a debit card. After all, in their eyes, spending some money to make my life at school more comfortable was well worth it. But I refused. Because in my eyes, there’s a difference between giving voluntarily and being forced to give. I hadn’t reached the point where I needed to be manipulated by a counselor. From the moment this homeroom meeting began, I knew the focus wasn’t on judging me, but on the “apologize and hope the counselor won’t hold a grudge” phase afterward. Unfortunately for her, Mrs. Davis had kicked a steel plate. 04 After the homeroom meeting ended, all the students, filled with righteous indignation, reported the counselor’s bribery to the school administration. Often, parents give gifts secretly so their children don’t have to worry. When they asked their parents, they found out that almost all of them had been hinted at by Mrs. Davis. And they had all obediently given gifts. Instantly furious, they wanted to kick down the principal’s door and demand an explanation. So very quickly, Mrs. Davis was fired and replaced by a young woman who had just graduated. And because Chloe was a snitch, she was blacklisted in the hearts of all our classmates. She was completely isolated in every class; no one even wanted to sit next to her. Chloe blamed all of this on me. She even went around spreading rumors to students in other classes who didn’t know the truth: “That Audrey Miller acts like a tyrant in our class. I just pointed out her mistakes, and she actually led the charge to isolate me. Even Mrs. Davis, who spoke up for me, was pushed out by her.” The students who heard her complaints looked hesitant: “Huh? But I heard Mrs. Davis was fired for accepting bribes.” Chloe panicked: “Of course that’s the excuse they used! Our class is full of greedy people who were bought off by Audrey Miller’s petty cash. They twisted the truth, spread rumors, and forced out a good teacher just like that!” I stood behind the two of them, arms crossed, and sneered: “The one spreading rumors is you, right?” Both of them froze. After a few seconds of stiffness, Chloe turned around and scolded: “How dare you, Audrey Miller, eavesdrop on our conversation!” I rolled my eyes: “Please, this is a lecture hall, a public place. Your voice badmouthing me was so loud, it would be hard not to hear you.” Although Chloe was sitting in the last row, she deliberately raised her voice. She wanted the students around her to “accidentally” hear my gossip, get a bad impression of me, and then sympathize with her. Using other people’s private lives to spark interest and form cliques. Such a childish trick—I thought only elementary school kids used it. I knocked my knuckles on the desk and said to the girl next to Chloe: “Give up your seat.” Chloe grabbed the girl’s arm and glared at me: “Why should she? Don’t give it up!” I didn’t waste any more words and pulled out my phone: “Here, pull up your Venmo QR code.” The girl had clearly heard about my generosity. Her eyes lit up, and she quickly pulled out her phone. “Ding, $750 received.” The girl couldn’t suppress the excitement on her face. She quickly stood up, gave a slight bow, and said: “Please, have a seat!” Then she ran off to an empty seat in the front row. Chloe’s face looked like she had swallowed a fly: “Spit! Another money-grubber!” Then, she looked at me, taking my seat, as if facing a mortal enemy. “W-what are you going to do?” I chuckled softly: “You really look down on me and my money, don’t you?” Chloe scoffed coldly, showing disdain: “Glad you know. I came to college to study, unlike you, ruining the academic atmosphere. It makes me lose my focus.” “Then do you know that your scholarship is also my family’s money?” Our college’s scholarship is very unique. In other colleges, only top students or those with high rankings can get it. But in our college, the scholarship covers 100% of the students. And all of this is funded by my dad. His original intention was to hope that other students would take better care of me because of this. But now, this money was falling into the hands of someone like Chloe. As the owner of this money, I was pissed. Chloe raised her chin: “So what! I earned this scholarship through my own hard work. It has nothing to do with who funded it!” I smiled faintly: “Is that so? Then let me inform you, from now on, you will be the only person in the entire college who cannot receive this money. Since you treat money like dirt, having a little less shouldn’t matter, right?” Chloe’s face instantly went white, and her voice became shrill: “Audrey Miller, what gives you the right?!” With a cold face, I yelled louder than her: “Because this money comes from my family! Because you, blind fool, dare to spread rumors about me everywhere!” Chloe was a bully to the weak but a coward to the strong. Seeing my aura overpower hers, she immediately backed down. She stammered: “You… you… the counselor won’t allow you to act so recklessly!” With that, she ran to the office to complain to the new counselor. However, the counselor couldn’t do anything about it. She sighed: “At the end of the day, this money really is from Audrey’s family. If they don’t want to give it to you, what can we do? We can’t reach into her pocket and force her. It’s useless to come to me about this; it’s useless to go to the department head or the principal. If you want a scholarship, you can work hard yourself, get to the top of the class for finals, and get the one issued by the university.” Chloe’s face flushed with anxiety, and she stomped her foot: “But even if I get into the top ten, the university’s scholarship isn’t as much as Audrey’s family gives!” A big reason she transferred to this major was hearing that the college offered generous scholarships. But now, because she offended me, the scholarship was gone. And her academic ranking had slipped to the very bottom. It was a complete loss. She wasn’t a highly gifted student. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get into the top ten to get the university’s scholarship. The new counselor massaged her temples: “Exactly. So why did you provoke her?” Seeing that this new counselor wasn’t protecting her like Mrs. Davis did, Chloe could only walk out of the office with red eyes. Later, I heard from her roommates that Chloe’s living expenses weren’t enough to cover her costs, so she had to take a part-time job. But she was afraid of being laughed at by people she knew, so she secretly worked as an internet cafe attendant in the middle of the night. Sleep-deprived, she became irritable, looked much more haggard, and her grades plummeted even further.

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My mom once dumped the richest man in our city. Eight years later, I beat up the billionaire’s son, and my teacher forced my mom to kneel and beg for mercy. The billionaire pushed open the door: “I used to treat you like a princess, terrified of you getting hurt. And you’re f***ing kneeling to someone?” “Chloe, whose face are you disgracing right now?” 01 I never had a dad, and I’d never met any relatives. It was always just my mom and me. She worked the night shift at a convenience store and often came home very late. So she asked our neighbor, Mrs. Miller, to set an extra plate for me when she cooked dinner for her granddaughter. Of course, it wasn’t a free meal. My mom paid Mrs. Miller every month. But Mrs. Miller would take that money, turn around, and buy me milk and fruit. She often sighed about how hard my mom worked and told me not to tell her. I nodded, and she praised me for being such a good girl. Honestly, I just felt that if I was a little better behaved, my mom’s life would be a little easier. At school, I was the most invisible student in the class. I paid attention in class, but I never stood out. My classmates sometimes called me a “little mute” because they thought I didn’t like talking. Actually, I just liked eavesdropping on their conversations. The most common topic for third graders was their families. Some kids would even tell everyone about their dad’s hemorrhoids or their mom fighting off mistresses. There was a boy in my class named Leo Vance. He was a new transfer student, and he was always complaining about his CEO dad. He said his dad had a temper like a rabid dog and a face as cold as a widower. He said his dad had no time for him, and usually, it was just the driver and the nanny at home. He said his dad only cared about money, and for his birthday, he just had his secretary pass along a black Amex card. … In short, he didn’t like his dad. But I envied him for having one. I don’t know why, but out of all the kids in class, I wanted to be close to Leo the most. Because I didn’t have a dad, and rumor had it, Leo didn’t have a mom. In a way, we were the same. While walking in line after school, Leo was complaining about how bad his dad’s cooking was. I couldn’t help but chime in: “The desserts my mom makes are really delicious.” I thought if he just said one thing back, I could bring him some of my mom’s desserts. But Leo turned his head and glared at me fiercely: “What’s that supposed to mean?” I looked at him in confusion. “You’re mocking me for not having a mom, right?” Leo shoved me hard, his face full of hostility. I fell to the ground. While I was still in a daze, our homeroom teacher, Ms. Evans, yelled from behind: “Audrey! Are you blind? You’re ruining the line’s discipline. Get up right now!” I had no choice but to slowly climb up and dust off my clothes. Ever since I spoke to Leo after school, I inexplicably became a thorn in his and his followers’ sides. Every time he walked past my desk, he would pinch my arm through my clothes. If we met face-to-face, he would slam his shoulder into mine. Not to mention, he was always surrounded by a group of lackeys. Every time I walked by, they would yell out of nowhere: “Audrey, the little mute. So embarrassing,” and make weird noises at me. I mustered up the courage to tell a teacher. But when I went to Ms. Evans’s office, she was sitting cross-legged, holding her phone, talking to someone. She kept saying “Mr. Vance,” smiling from ear to ear. I stood at the door for ten minutes, but she didn’t even notice me. The bell rang for the next class, English. I had to go back. The English teacher assigned an essay today titled “My Father.” I didn’t know how to start, so I just sat there awkwardly for the entire period. The sky outside was grey, looking like it was about to rain, making everyone feel heavy. However, Leo was very happy. He told everyone that his dad was coming to pick him up today. When school ended, a torrential downpour started, just as expected. Surprisingly, in the entire huge school, Leo and I were the only ones left waiting. The security guard brought us to the guardhouse. Leo looked terrible. He kept yelling into his smartwatch: “I don’t care! I don’t want to hear any excuses! You have to come pick me up!” Then he put his watch down and started stomping on the floor, “Bang, bang, bang.” I thought he really looked like an angry, unreasonable monkey. I don’t know how long it had been, but the Vance family driver finally appeared outside the guardhouse. “I don’t want you. Where’s my dad?” The little tyrant threw a tantrum at the driver outside the window. The driver awkwardly made a phone call. Not long after, a man holding a massive black umbrella walked over at a leisurely pace. The sky was still gloomy, and the wind was howling outside. Even though the umbrella shielded his face, you could tell the man had an upright, straight posture, possessing a calm composure that feared no storm. Leo had already jumped up, rushed out of the guardhouse, and sprinted into the man’s arms. The man extended a hand, firmly grabbing Leo by the collar. It was a pair of hands that looked powerful and reassuring—wide palms with pronounced knuckles. It looked exactly like the kind of hands a dad should have. The man set Leo down, held the umbrella with one hand, and tilted most of it toward Leo’s side. Then, without mercy, he smacked the back of Leo’s head. That crisp smack sounded like someone thumping a watermelon. I stared, a little dazed. Leo didn’t mind. Instead, he suddenly turned around and flashed me a smug, gloating smile. “Poor little thing.” He mocked me with a funny face. “Keep waiting by yourself!” 02 I simply stayed in the guardhouse. I had almost finished all my homework by the time the storm stopped. The security guard, Mr. Lee, even shared his dinner with me—a basket of delicious steamed buns. After thanking him, I walked back to the apartment I rented with my mom. I did a quick mop of the floor and read “The Magic School Bus” before my mom finally came home. The bedroom door was pushed open, and my mom peeked half her body in with a beaming smile: “Baby, why aren’t you asleep yet?” My eyes immediately zeroed in on her other arm, which she was hiding behind the door. “Mom! You hurt your left hand?” She scratched her head: “You’ve got sharp eyes, kid. 20/20 vision, I see.” I asked her what happened. “Something fell on it at work,” she sighed. “It’s fine now, but I can’t use my left hand for a couple of weeks.” “Can you rest at home for these two weeks?” I asked tentatively. “What kind of capitalist has that kind of heart? Give you a few weeks off, do you still want to keep your job?” I lowered my eyes, feeling a bit upset. “Ta-da! Look what I have here!” My mom suddenly raised her voice and quickly brought out a roast duck and a can of beer she had been hiding behind her back to distract me. “This is a gift from my stingy boss.” “Were you planning to eat it all by yourself?” I asked quietly. She scratched her cheek: “Am I that kind of person?” I had to help her recall the times after I fell asleep when she hid in the living room drinking boba, eating BBQ, and watching TV shows… Under the dim light, we shared the roast duck. I suddenly remembered seeing Leo’s dad today, so I asked softly, “Mom, what kind of person was my dad?” I knew my mom didn’t like talking about my dad. But after a moment of silence, she actually started telling me: He had a bad temper, spent all his time working, and only knew how to solve problems by throwing a black Amex card at them… “What did he look like? Were his hands big?” “Pretty big, and he was quite tall.” My mom burst out laughing. “Why are you asking this?” I wanted to hear more, but my mom’s voice went flat: “Kid, knowing this won’t do you any good. He’s already dead.” I could only look at her eagerly and ask one last question: “Did my dad love me when he was alive?” She stroked my head and said softly, “Go to sleep, baby.” I don’t know why, but I felt like she looked sad even while smiling. The next day, I got to school early and started writing the essay I hadn’t finished the day before. When I handed it in, Mr. Davis actually used mine as a model essay and read it out loud in front of the whole class. My Father My father often keeps a straight face, always looking unhappy. My father is always very busy and has no time to take care of me, but I know he is always by my side. My father is the best father in the world. Whenever it rains, he drops all his work to come pick me up from school. His hands are so big, just like his big black umbrella, able to shield my mom and me from all the storms in the world… After school, Leo found me, his face burning with anger: “You thief! You clearly wrote about my dad.” He reached out to push me. I quickly ran back, but he caught up instantly, pinning me against the wall at the back of the classroom, yelling fiercely: “Thief!” I suddenly got angry and shoved him hard. Actually, I was already taller and stronger than him. He fell to the ground, his face instantly turning black, and started cursing at me. I had never heard such vicious words before! Old grudges and new resentments piled up. Not only did I not let him go, but I sat on him, throwing a punch for every curse word he spat. By the time I snapped out of it, Ms. Evans had already rushed into the classroom. She screamed, pulled me off Leo, and held him close, comforting him for a long time. Leo pretended to cry for a bit, then said dramatically: “Ms. Evans, my dad entrusted me to you. I’ve always thought of you as a mom. I only have you, boo hoo hoo.” Ms. Evans turned her head and glared at me fiercely: “Audrey! Right now, immediately, call your mother to come to the school!” 03 “Does your daughter have violent tendencies?” Ms. Evans’s voice was shrill. “Look at what she did to Leo!” Leo immediately let out a few groans, pretending to be in a lot of pain. Ms. Evans spoke gently to him: “Be a good boy, Leo. I called your dad, he’ll be here soon.” My mom, with her left arm in a cast, was still wearing the green vest from the convenience store and a cheap hat with the store’s logo. She seemed to have rushed over, her bangs blown into a mess. She glanced at me and said anxiously, “Audrey is usually very well-behaved. She wouldn’t hit someone for no reason.” Ms. Evans raised her voice: “Are you saying I’m falsely accusing your daughter?” “That’s not what I mean,” my mom said quickly. “I just want to hear the children explain what happened.” “Audrey,” Ms. Evans turned to me coldly, “Tell me yourself, what did you do wrong?” I stubbornly kept my mouth shut. Ms. Evans seemed infuriated. “Fine, if you won’t say it, I will.” “You don’t follow discipline when lining up.” “The other students don’t like you. You have no ability to integrate into the group.” “And now you’ve even learned to beat up your classmates.” “Just now when I asked you, you didn’t say a word. You’ve learned how to be deceitful too.” “Let me ask you, do you even respect me as your homeroom teacher?” My mom looked at me, her lips moving: “Ms. Evans, there might be some misunderstanding…” Ms. Evans let out a contemptuous smile: “Since you insist on turning a blind eye to your daughter’s mistakes, I have nothing more to say.” She slammed her thermos onto the desk. “I can’t teach her. You should find a better teacher. Go ask around and see which homeroom teacher in this school is willing to take her. Transfer her out immediately.” At these words, my mom’s face turned completely white. Although she usually didn’t act like a typical strict mother, she was very serious about my education. Usually, if I scored below an 80 on a test, she wouldn’t hesitate to give me a spanking. Not to mention, education had always been more important than life itself to her. “No, please.” My mom panicked, begging her, “Ms. Evans, please give Audrey another chance. She’s young, she doesn’t know any better.” Ms. Evans turned her head, snorted coldly, and faced the wall. My mom continued to beg bitterly, saying everything she could to appease her. But no matter what my mom said, Ms. Evans just told her to find someone else to take me. But in a school, which homeroom teacher would accept a student another teacher rejected? “Please have a little mercy.” My mom raised her injured arm. “I promise I will properly discipline Audrey when we go home. Please don’t give up on her.” Ms. Evans turned back, but still picked at her: “How can I trust you?” My mom paused, as if making a firm decision: “Ms. Evans, I work long hours and don’t have time to pay attention to Audrey’s mental state. She’s always alone, and there’s no one to teach her right from wrong.” It was the first time I saw my mom speak so seriously. I stared at her blankly. My mom gripped the armrest of a chair and slowly knelt down, pleading once more: “Ms. Evans, the person at fault is actually me, her mother. I didn’t raise her well; it’s not Audrey’s fault. Please, give her another chance.” After she spoke, her usually thin, straight shoulders slumped deeply. I stared at her in shock. This woman, who was usually always joking and informal, was my mother; this woman, kneeling on the floor, humbling herself and begging the teacher not to abandon me, was my mother; this woman, who taught me to be an upright person and to study hard, was my mother… A hard life had never crushed her, but at this moment, she surrendered her dignity for my sake. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I immediately hugged her shoulders and knelt down beside her. “I’m sorry, it’s my fault. Mom, it’s not your fault.” I had never felt such intense regret for doing something. Tears streamed from my eyes, and I felt my heart breaking into pieces. Ms. Evans also seemed startled. She lowered her voice: “I didn’t mean…” “I’m sorry, Ms. Evans,” I cried too. “I promise I’ll never hit anyone again.” Amidst the commotion, Leo suddenly shouted excitedly: “Dad, you’re finally here.” Ms. Evans jumped, hurriedly pushed us away, bent down, and quickly touched up her lipstick using a small mirror on the desk. The first thing I heard was a cold voice: “Leo, tell me yourself, what kind of trouble did you cause this time?” The office door was pushed open. The footsteps drew closer, and the man’s voice seemed tinged with fatigue and annoyance: “Confess right now, before I have to make you.” I felt my mom’s body stiffen. She turned her head to look, then immediately lowered it, as if she had seen something unbelievable. For a moment, I felt like she wanted to hide under the desk. “Mr. Vance.” Ms. Evans stood up, beaming. “You misunderstand. Today, Leo was the one who was bullied. Don’t be too hard on him.” The man stopped casually behind her: “Bullied by who?” “Her.” Ms. Evans pointed at me, sighing. “There’s something wrong with this girl’s head.” I didn’t dare to argue, I could only turn around, prostrating myself on the floor, and say, “I’m sorry.” The man squatted down. He looked at the bruises on Leo’s face, his tone completely flat: “Got beat up? Does it hurt?” Leo quickly let out a pathetic “Mhm.” The man frowned, but said mercilessly: “Useless.” After criticizing Leo, his sharp eyes swept over me: “A young girl who likes to use her fists. Didn’t your parents teach you any manners?” Stared down by his dark, gloomy eyes, I almost burst into tears again, so I bit my lip hard. “She really wasn’t raised right,” Ms. Evans quickly added. “I just reprimanded her, and her mom knelt down to apologize. Sigh… Mr. Vance, how do you think we should handle this?” “How should we handle this?” Mr. Vance slowly repeated the words, and anyone could hear the icy tone in his voice. Hearing this, I immediately straightened up, frantically grabbed the hem of his suit jacket, and said: “Mister, I didn’t mean it, I swear, I will never mess with him again.” Mr. Vance looked down at me, suddenly frowning. He pinched my chin with one hand, his gaze even revealing a bit of confusion and bewilderment: “Why do you… look so much like…” He didn’t finish his sentence. After a long silence, he just shook his head: “Ms. Evans, forget it.” Leo started screaming: “How can we just forget it?” “Then what do you want?” Mr. Vance’s tone grew a bit impatient. “I want Audrey to apologize to me in front of the whole class tomorrow.” Leo’s little mouth babbled on. “And last time she mocked me for not having a mom.” Mr. Vance’s face turned as dark as the bottom of a pot, while my mom’s face went completely pale. She secretly glanced at Leo, her eyes a mix of pain and inner conflict. She seemed to want to say something but bit her lip, burying her head even lower, her body trembling slightly. I was a bit worried and quickly squeezed my mom’s hand. “Enough, you little brat,” Mr. Vance raised his hand and grabbed Leo’s collar. “I think you really are asking for a beating.” “Getting beat up by a little girl is embarrassing enough, and you want the whole class to laugh at you?” Ms. Evans seemed surprised that the matter was dropping so easily. She pursed her lips and said: “Since Mr. Vance isn’t pursuing the matter, Audrey’s mom, you should apologize to him.” My mom didn’t say a word, trembling even more violently. Ms. Evans waited, growing impatient: “Audrey’s mom? Does muteness run in your family?” Mr. Vance finally seemed to notice there was a woman kneeling on the floor. He casually turned his head, and with just one glance, he froze. He let go of Leo’s collar and stood up instantly. “I’m sorry,” my mom finally said softly, her head still buried low. The man parted his lips, seemingly using a great deal of effort just to call out a name: “Chloe… is that you?” I didn’t know how he knew my mom’s name. “You have the wrong person.” My mom immediately turned her face away, but her left hand in the cast clenched painfully into a fist, as if she were enduring something. “It is you.” Mr. Vance stared fixedly at my mom, his facial expression a mix of crying and laughing, hatred and joy, his whole face twisting terribly. “Chloe—” He seemed to chew on the name, his eyes glued to my mom. “When did you get back?” My mom turned her head, refusing to meet his gaze. Even Ms. Evans realized something was wrong, her face changing instantly: “Do you know her, Mr. Vance?” “Know her? Far more than that.” He seemed furious, unable to bear it any longer, and pulled my mom up from the floor with one hand. “Eight years since we last saw each other, and you’re this pathetic, ridiculous mess?” “Chloe, I used to treat you like a princess, terrified of you getting hurt. And you’re f***ing kneeling to someone here today?” “Chloe, whose face are you disgracing right now?” “Get up!” Once my mom was pulled up, she quickly grabbed my hand, as if trying to rush me out of there. But Mr. Vance still firmly gripped my mom’s slender wrist. In front of everyone, this tall, intimidating man’s eyes actually grew red: “Chloe, we haven’t seen each other in so many years, and you won’t even look up at me?” He seemed to realize something and suddenly looked at me: “How old are you?” Inexplicably, I met a pair of eyes filled with disbelief. The owner of those eyes spoke angrily: “Chloe, is she our—” “Audrey is seven this year,” my mom interrupted. “She’s my daughter with my husband. Carter Vance, she has nothing to do with you.” She paused, her voice seemingly suppressing immense pain as she continued: “And you have no right to question me now, whether I’m a beggar or anything else.” I nervously glanced between them. Actually, I’m eight this year. I don’t know why my mom lied about my age. But I figured my mom must have her reasons. After hearing her words, Mr. Vance asked, crestfallen: “You… got married?”

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Today is my twenty-eighth birthday. My husband went out of his way to buy my favorite mango cake. At the restaurant, a little boy from the next table was egged on by his mother to come over and ask for a slice. I was reluctant, but out of basic courtesy, I gave him a piece. The result was a severe allergic reaction. The boy went into anaphylactic shock and died in the emergency room. His grieving father stormed into my house and stabbed me to death in a fit of absolute rage. Then I opened my eyes, waking up exactly in the moment before I handed that cake over. … 1 The rich, savory scent of sizzling beef and hot oil hit my face in thick waves of steam. The off-key melody of a birthday song scraped against my eardrums like nails on a chalkboard, making me wince. My grip on my chopsticks tightened until my knuckles turned white. This scene was entirely too familiar. A little boy wearing a bear-patterned vest stood right by our table, singing “Happy Birthday” in a sickeningly sweet, childish voice. Behind him stood a heavily made-up young woman holding her phone. The camera was pointed dead at us. A calculated, artificial smile stretched across her face. “You sang so beautifully, baby. Hurry up and say thank you to the nice lady.” In my previous life, this was the exact moment my heart melted. I had smiled, cut a generous slice of the mango cream cake, and handed it to him. But mere seconds later, the boy broke out in severe hives. He collapsed on the floor, gasping for air, and never made it out of the resuscitation room. I can still vividly remember his father charging into my house with bloodshot eyes. As the fruit knife plunged into my chest, I could hear my husband, Carter, panicking in the background, yelling that it was an accident. I bled out on my living room floor, and the boy’s father was sentenced to death for first-degree murder. “Lady, can I please have a piece of your cake…” The boy looked no older than five or six. He reached out with filthy, greasy hands, his eyes glued greedily to the frosting in front of me. His mother immediately chimed in. “Come on, miss. Look how adorable he is. Just give him a slice. It is not like it is a luxury item. My son is a lucky charm, sharing with him will bring you good fortune.” I took a deep, shaky breath, forcing down the phantom taste of blood rising in my throat. I pulled my lips into a freezing smile. “No.” The air around our table instantly completely froze. The little boy’s hand stopped mid-air. A second later, a deafening, ear-piercing shriek erupted from his lungs. “I want cake! I want the cake!” He threw a massive tantrum, flailing his arms and slamming his hands on our table. The loud clatter of plates and bowls made the customers at the neighboring booths turn their heads in shock. His mother’s face dropped. She lowered her phone and instantly went on the offensive. “What is your problem? It is just a piece of cake. Do you really need to be this petty with a child? You have zero compassion, but I didn’t expect you to be this vicious.” “Vicious?” I thought about my gruesome death, remembering how this exact woman had stood by and gloated while I bled out. I put down my chopsticks and leaned forward slightly. “Number one: I bought this cake with my own money. Giving it away is my privilege, not an obligation.” “Number two: Your kid tries to snatch things he wants. Instead of parenting him, you attack a stranger. Who is the one lacking basic manners here?” “Number three: If I were truly vicious, I would smash this entire cake right into your face right now, just so you could taste what it feels like to be forced into something.” Whispers began rippling through the restaurant. A few people pulled out their phones to record. The woman’s face flushed a deep, humiliating red. Unable to gracefully back down, she literally dropped to the floor and raised her voice to a hysterical pitch. “Everyone, look at this! A grown woman bullying a child on her birthday! She won’t even spare a single slice of cake. She is a total child-hater! A woman this bitter is destined to curse her husband and ruin her own family!” “Oh?” I raised an eyebrow, watching her throw a pathetic fit on the floor. “Since you are so good at predicting the future, how come you didn’t predict your son almost knocking over a boiling grill pan just now? If he had severely burned someone, could you afford the medical bills? Or did you intentionally let your kid cause a scene just to extort money out of me?” “What the hell are you talking about!” The woman panicked. She scrambled to her feet and lunged forward, trying to shove me. I glanced at my husband, Carter. He was sitting there like a complete bystander, casually watching the drama unfold. A fierce fire ignited in my chest, and I stood up abruptly. I have always been tall, and fueled by pure adrenaline, my towering presence instantly intimidated her. She yanked her outstretched hand back, opting to stand her ground and glare at me with venomous eyes. By this time, a waiter had rushed over to our table. Seeing the staff arrive, the woman seemed to find her courage again. She immediately started crying to the waiter, claiming I was aggressive and unreasonable. She whined about how I bullied them, had no respect for kids, and refused to share a simple slice of cake. She demanded they kick us out of the restaurant. The waiter listened to her dramatic sob story and gave me an awkward look. Seeing the cold fury in my eyes, he turned back to the woman, trying to deescalate the situation. “Ma’am, please calm down. Giving away the cake is entirely up to this customer. We cannot force her to share it, and we certainly have no right to kick a paying customer out.” Hearing the waiter’s verdict, the woman started wailing even louder. “You are all in on this together! You are just bullying us because my husband isn’t here! You are picking on a helpless mother and child!” While she screamed, the little boy stealthily crept closer. He suddenly reached out, grabbing a massive handful of cake, and shoved his hand toward his mouth. I spotted him instantly. I slapped his hand away hard, knocking the cake onto the floor, and grabbed a napkin to ruthlessly scrub his fingers clean until not a single speck of frosting remained. Seeing his prize ruined, he burst into fresh tears and yelled, “You ugly bitch!” “What the hell is going on here!” A tall, broad-shouldered man suddenly charged over, glaring at us. The boy saw him and immediately ran to hug his leg. The moment I saw his face, a phantom ache flared up in my chest where the knife had pierced me. This was Griffin, the boy’s father. He glared at me, cracking his knuckles threateningly. “You dare bully my wife and kid? Believe me, I will knock you out right now!” 2 “What? You think hitting a woman makes you a tough guy?” I did not take a single step back, staring directly into his furious eyes. “Where were you when your son was throwing a tantrum and trying to steal from a stranger’s table? Now you show up to play the big hero? Instead of flexing your muscles, why don’t you teach your son some basic manners and teach your wife how to respect boundaries.” Hearing the word “steal,” Griffin froze. He looked down at the little boy, who immediately lowered his head in guilt. Griffin turned to his wife and asked what really happened. The woman stammered, refusing to give a straight answer. It seemed this man was actually capable of reason. In my previous life, it was highly likely that his wife’s malicious instigation, combined with the blinding grief of losing his son, had driven him to murder. The situation was finally deescalating, but my husband Carter suddenly opened his mouth with a horribly snide remark. “Is your family starving so badly that your son has to beg my wife for scraps?” That single sentence instantly reignited Griffin’s rage. “You son of a bitch, you’re asking for it!” Griffin raised his fist, ready to swing at Carter. “Sir! Please do not fight!” Several waiters rushed over to physically hold him back. The shift manager ran over clutching a menu, plastering a massive, apologetic smile on his face. “I am so incredibly sorry. Your meal is entirely on the house today. Please cool off. Let’s not get violent in front of the child, it sets a bad example.” The couple looked like they wanted to keep arguing, but the manager secretly slipped them a hefty discount voucher and gave them a pointed look. Griffin shot me one last vicious glare before grabbing his wife and kid, walking away while muttering curses under his breath. Once the family was gone, the manager turned to me, bowing apologetically. “I am so sorry, Ms. Song. You are a regular here, and this is the first time something like this has happened. I am comping your table today to make up for the trouble.” Carter and I frequented this place, The Sizzling Grill. The food and service were usually top-notch. I knew this wasn’t their fault, so I nodded at the manager. He thanked me profusely and hurried away. The surrounding customers finally went back to their own meals. My tightly strung nerves slowly relaxed. That brat didn’t eat the cake, which meant he wouldn’t die. I had successfully dodged my gruesome fate. Just as I let out a sigh of relief, Carter’s face darkened, and he started lecturing me. “You went way overboard just now. It is just a piece of cake. What is the big deal about giving it to a kid? Now everyone in the restaurant is treating us like a joke.” I stared at him in disbelief, my heart feeling like it had been pierced by an icicle. “Did you not see how they treated me? If I gave him the cake and something happened to that child, would you take responsibility?” “What could possibly happen? It is just dessert.” Carter waved his hand impatiently. “You are making a mountain out of a molehill. You have absolutely no empathy. I never knew you were this kind of person.” “Empathy?” I laughed, almost letting a tear slip. “Carter, in my past life, I was literally…” I swallowed the rest of the sentence. He wouldn’t believe me anyway. He would probably just think I had lost my mind. “What are you laughing at?” Carter frowned deeply. “I am being serious. What you did today was incredibly ugly. Do me a favor and don’t tell people you are my wife.” His bystander attitude during the fight and his sudden, deliberate provocation of the boy’s father had already filled me with deep suspicion. I didn’t argue. I silently grabbed my purse and stood up. “I am not going home tonight. I am staying at my parents’ house for a few days. You need to take a good look in the mirror.” The moment I mentioned going to my parents, Carter’s tone shifted from arrogant to impatient. “Harper, can you stop being so dramatic? What are your parents going to think if you run home crying? They are going to assume I am abusing you.” I looked at Carter, a wave of profound disappointment washing over me. In a moment like this, he didn’t care about my feelings at all. He only cared about how my parents viewed him! He walked over and wrapped his arms around me. “Baby, please stop making a fuss. I admit I went a little too far with my words today. Just come home with me. There is a huge promotion opening up at my company, and I really need your dad to put in a good word for me.” So that was his real agenda. Carter and I met at work, and his direct superior was my father. Back when he was intensely pursuing me, my friends warned me that he was only after my family’s money and connections. I refused to believe them back then. But looking at his performance today, I had no choice but to reconsider their warnings. I couldn’t let Carter know I was doubting his motives for marrying me. I forced my posture to relax, pretending my anger had faded. “Don’t worry, I won’t say a word to my parents about what happened. I just haven’t been home in a while, and it is my birthday. I want to see them. I will conveniently bring up your promotion to my dad while I am there.” Hearing my promise, Carter kissed the back of my hand. “Thank you, baby. I knew I had the most forgiving wife in the world.” I fought back the urge to vomit and discreetly wiped my hand on my jeans. When I arrived at my parents’ house and pushed the front door open, they were sitting on the couch flipping through my old childhood photo albums. Their faces lit up with pure joy the second they saw me. They hurried over and grabbed my hands. Noticing my silence, my mom asked softly, “Harper, sweetheart, what brings you home so late?” Seeing their loving, concerned eyes broke whatever dam was left inside me. I threw myself into my mother’s arms and sobbed uncontrollably. My mom gently patted my back while my dad paced nervously beside us, rubbing his hands together. “What happened? Did Carter do something to you?” Choking back my tears, I gave them a filtered version of the restaurant incident, completely omitting the rebirth part. I simply told them Carter failed to support me. Hearing this, my parents instantly took my side. “You did the right thing, sweetheart! You cannot let people walk all over you! And what is wrong with Carter? Why on earth wouldn’t he stand up for his own wife?” Parents will always be your strongest shield. I remembered when I first announced I was marrying Carter, they strongly opposed it. They felt he wasn’t grounded and had too many hidden motives. But they couldn’t win against my stubbornness and eventually compromised. History proves that if your family warns you not to marry someone, you really shouldn’t. 3 I was the absolute princess of my family growing up. My dad would move mountains to give me whatever I wanted. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how shattered they must have been when they received the news of my brutal murder in my past life. To cheer me up, my parents suggested we go out for dinner at my favorite spot, The Heritage Steakhouse. I am an absolute fanatic for a good vintage grill. Before I got married, this was my go-to place. I brought Carter here a few times after our wedding, but he claimed he hated the smoky atmosphere, so I eventually stopped going. From then on, we only ever ate at The Sizzling Grill near our apartment. Once we got a booth, I pulled out my phone to scan the QR code for the menu. By pure muscle memory, I accidentally logged into Carter’s loyalty account. We shared the same phone number for log-ins, and for convenience, we never bothered changing the password. I didn’t think much of it since using either account to order food made no difference. After ordering, I wanted to treat my parents, so I sneaked away to the front counter to pay the bill in advance. While the cashier was ringing me up, she smiled warmly. “Ma’am, your account currently has enough loyalty points to redeem a cash voucher. Would you like to apply it to tonight’s bill?” I felt a twinge of confusion. The last time I came here was during the holidays months ago. Do points really take this long to expire? I tested the waters and asked, “How much is the voucher worth?” The cashier checked her screen. “You can redeem a two-hundred-dollar voucher. If you apply it, your total tonight will only be one hundred and thirteen dollars.” Her words exploded in my brain like a bomb. Earning a two-hundred-dollar voucher required at least four thousand loyalty points. There was absolutely no way I had spent that much money here. That meant Carter was the one spending it. Panic rising in my chest, I quickly pulled up the account’s transaction history. The moment the records loaded, my blood ran entirely cold. Over the past three months, Carter had dined at this steakhouse fifteen times. Every single receipt was for a romantic dinner for two. The timestamps were mostly on weekend afternoons. Those were the exact times he explicitly told me he was stuck at the office doing mandatory overtime. My fingers trembled as I scrolled down. The most recent transaction was from just two days ago at noon. There was even a custom note attached to the reservation: Celebrating our seventh dating anniversary, please prepare table decorations. Seventh anniversary. Carter and I had only been married for five years. It felt like an invisible, icy hand had clamped down on my heart, squeezing until I couldn’t breathe. Was he having an affair this whole time? Who was she? What were they plotting? “Sweetheart, is everything okay?” My mom noticed something was off and reached out to touch my hand. “Why are your fingers freezing?” “I am fine, Mom.” I shoved the phone deep into my pocket, forcing a composed smile. “The AC in here is just a bit strong. Let’s go eat.” My parents could tell I looked pale, so they spent the whole dinner trying to comfort me. But the premium steak tasted like absolute ash in my mouth. My mind was completely consumed by horrifying images of Carter and a faceless woman. When it was time to settle the bill, I paid the full price out of my own pocket, refusing to use Carter’s account to avoid alerting him. Back in my childhood bedroom, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Suddenly, my phone buzzed with a notification. It was a video link sent by a friend, accompanied by a viral caption: Watch this heartless woman at The Sizzling Grill! She bullies a child, curses at the mother, and the staff actually takes her side! Who knows who she is sleeping with to get that kind of treatment! Internet, do your thing! Help this poor mother and son get justice! People like her need to be canceled! The video was exactly the altercation from yesterday. The camera angle proved it was filmed by that woman’s phone. It intentionally captured me looking furious and intimidating, while framing her and her bratty kid as pathetic, helpless victims. My friend asked what was going on. She had seen it on her local feed and immediately forwarded it to me, suspecting I was being framed. I briefly explained the truth to my friend, then clicked directly into the woman’s social media profile. I angrily opened the comment section, fully prepared to defend myself against a tidal wave of hate. To my surprise, the top comments were actually incredibly rational: This mom is acting way too fake. Her kid tries to steal food, and she acts like she owns the place? If I were that girl, I wouldn’t give up my cake either. Stop morally kidnapping people. Did you guys see the dad cracking his knuckles? The girl is lucky she didn’t get assaulted, and now the mom is trying to cyberbully her? The restaurant and the girl in the video should file a police report. This is straight-up defamation! Of course, there was still a massive horde of brainless trolls hurling abuse at me. Even if I posted a detailed explanation right now, without hard evidence, no one would believe me. Right then, my phone chimed with a text message from the manager of The Sizzling Grill. Ms. Song, our restaurant does not tolerate malicious slander that harms our reputation. We have high-definition security footage of the entire argument from multiple angles. If you need it, I can send you a copy immediately. I thanked him profusely and saved the video files to my phone. I needed to use this evidence as a lethal weapon when the time was right. Just as I was about to lock my screen, a brilliant thought struck me. The Sizzling Grill had security cameras. That meant The Heritage Steakhouse definitely had them too. If I went to the steakhouse tomorrow and asked to see their footage, I could absolutely identify the woman Carter was having an affair with. First thing the next morning, I rushed to The Heritage Steakhouse and found the floor manager. “Hi, I had dinner here a few days ago, and I think I dropped a very expensive necklace. Is there any way I could check the security cameras to see if it fell near my table?” The manager asked for the date and table number. I recited the exact details from Carter’s transaction history. He immediately escorted me into the security room. The moment the surveillance footage played on the monitor, my vision went completely black. In the video, Carter was sitting at a romantic window booth. And the woman sitting across from him was Toby’s mother.

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1 Five years of recovery, five years cloistered away, and the moment I was discharged, I pulled every string, twisted every arm, to marry James Osmond—the man I’d secretly adored for years. On our wedding night, his voice was a whip-crack, cold and cutting: “I’m in love with someone else. Don’t expect anything from me.” “This marriage is a business deal, pure and simple. Don’t cross the line.” But one night, he was drowning in liquor, and in his drunken haze, he mistook me for his dearly departed love, Minnie. His eyes, bloodshot and brimming, pressed me against the wall, kissing me with a feverish intensity that stole my breath. We were entangled all night. The morning after, he was nearly throttling me. “Trying to mimic her while I’m drunk? You’re not worthy!” Later, my old illness flared up, and I was wheeled into his private hospital room. The walls were covered in paintings, every single one his work. The woman in the portraits was me, during my sickness. Back then, my hormones were out of whack, my body bloated, my face marred by angry red splotches. A world away from the carefully maintained, slimmer, more attractive woman I am now. … “How could you be so cruel? Not even letting me see you one last time?” James’s hot breath, thick with the scent of whiskey, whispered those words into my ear. And I knew, with a sickening lurch, that I was once again shamelessly stealing the tenderness meant for someone else. James’s chiseled features softened, inch by inch, his gaze burning with an intensity that startled me. My body, held gently by him, stiffened. A chill ran through me, as if I’d plunged into an icy abyss. Yet my heart hammered a frantic rhythm. “I’m not…” I shook my head, a frantic, helpless gesture. But as I tried to pull away, my knee gave a sudden, agonizing jolt. The familiar, searing pain shot through me, tearing a jagged rift in the fragile illusion of warmth. My face went pale, and I instinctively bit my lower lip. He, however, seemed utterly heartbroken, his voice tinged with a mournful whine. “I finally dreamed of you, and you’re pushing me away?” And as if terrified I might confirm it, he pleaded, his voice hoarse with desperation. “I’m not mad anymore, just don’t leave me.” His nostrils flared, and his eyes, glistening with unshed tears, glowed in the dim light, fixed on me with a pitiful, vulnerable plea. My heart clenched, a bitter ache spreading through me. I knew his gaze saw through me to another, yet I, despicable as I was, felt a traitorous flutter. A deluge of kisses, wet with tears, rained down on me, scorching and desperate. Every inch of his invasion, coupled with the pain in my leg, left me helpless yet consumed, clinging tightly to his shoulders. As if only through this fleeting fantasy could I brave the certain chill of tomorrow. The next morning, before the sun had fully risen, I was jolted awake by a familiar, searing ache. Every joint in my body felt like it had been wrenched apart by the previous night’s tempestuous encounter, now screaming with retaliatory agony. My hand trembled as I fumbled under the bed, searching for the hidden compartment where I kept my hormone medication. The coldness of the bottle made my fingertips twitch, nearly dropping the pills. This morning tremor, this weakness, was the permanent mark Lupus had etched into my being. Seven years. This incurable, chronic autoimmune disease was like my emotions: only suppressed and controlled, never truly free. I swallowed the pills dry, pressing my hand fiercely against the worst of the throbbing in my knee. Only when the excruciating pain subsided into a tolerable dull ache did I finally breathe a sigh of relief, cautiously curling back into his embrace. My eyes greedily traced his brow, his nose, to his slightly reddened lips. Four years. It had been four long years since I could look at him like this again. Those four years hadn’t etched a single line on his face; instead, they’d refined the breathtaking softness of his youth, transforming it into a potent, mature intensity. The sliver of stolen tenderness was now laced with an overwhelming sadness. Tears welled up, unbidden, and I quickly wiped them away, terrified of shattering this fragile dream. “Had enough looking?” His voice, crisp and cool, held a hint of annoyance. My heart leaped. I instinctively clapped a hand over my nose, then, realizing the red blotches that once plagued it had long vanished, I sheepishly lowered my hand. The next second, his hand clamped down on mine, viciously, so tightly my wrist began to ache. I looked up, only to fall into the frigid depths of his eyes, seething with anger. “Trying to mimic her while I’m drunk? You’re not worthy!” “Spending so much effort to climb into my bed – you don’t feel ashamed? I find it disgusting.” He flung my hand away in disgust, and I stumbled, losing my balance, crashing into the bedside table. A jolt of pain shot through my left shoulder, leaving it numb. My eyes, betraying me, welled up. He stood, dressing, then looked down at me, his voice sharp and unyielding. “Make an appointment to get checked. You’re not fit to carry my child.” “If this happens again, I won’t hesitate to bankrupt your family and send them to prison.” The door slammed shut with a bang. 2 The tender warmth of last night’s drunken embrace was shattered by his contempt. His words, iced and sharp, felt like countless tiny ice picks, piercing deep into my joints, triggering waves of throbbing pain that threatened to dismember me. After he left, I curled up on the floor alone, taking a long time to slowly regain the strength to support my body. I struggled to the wall, leaning against it, holding my breath as I stepped onto the scale. In the weak morning light, I felt the slightly slack skin around my waist. In the mirror, I pressed hard against my cheeks. As if, with enough pressure, I could peel back the smooth skin and glimpse the ugly red blotches from years ago. A shift in the light, and the faint redness in the mirror vanished. I was so much thinner, so much prettier than back then, yet still, I couldn’t catch his eye. I blinked, forcing back the burning in my eyes, and irritably tossed the hormone medicine bottle back into the depths beneath the bed. James hadn’t come home for days. I stared at the steaming dishes on the table, watching the heat slowly dissipate, a hollow ache spreading in my chest. “Mr. Osmond is busy with a new medical acquisition, Mrs. Osmond. Perhaps you shouldn’t wait up?” Liam, his secretary, came to pick up some documents. Seeing me lost in thought at the dining table, he finally couldn’t help but offer a word of advice. I slowly turned my head, habitually clasping my left wrist, my voice a little shaky. “She… did she pass away from illness?” Liam looked uncomfortable. “Please don’t put me in a difficult position, Mrs. Osmond.” I lowered my head, not pressing further. His deceased beloved was his biggest taboo—unquestionable, unexplorable. Ever since James’s marriage to me, with the help of the Sterling family, he had completely shifted the group’s focus to medical equipment and biopharmaceuticals. Even if he didn’t say it, anyone could see his obsession and guilt regarding his lost love. “I’ve been simmering this chicken soup for ages. I’ll come to the office with you.” Years ago, whenever he visited me at the hospital, he would bring a bowl of chicken soup if he had time. Made with ginseng and astragalus, it was a little bitter. Now that I was making it myself, I realized how much effort it took. The chicken had to be plucked, gutted, blanched to remove impurities, then simmered over low heat for two or three hours, never leaving its side. I wondered how he managed to do all that while attending classes. Now that I could get up and cook, I wanted him to taste it. I also just wanted to see him. Liam hesitated several times, but eventually let me into the car. At the office, Liam swiped me into the elevator, then rushed off to the conference room, clutching his documents. The moment the elevator doors opened, a bright, captivating figure seared my vision. The woman wore a perfectly tailored red strapless gown, her skin like snow, her figure graceful, as she spoke softly to someone nearby, a smile playing on her lips. Hearing the movement, she turned her head slightly and our eyes met. My breath hitched. It was Scarlett Rivers. I would never mistake her. Years ago, when James volunteered at the hospital, she would always follow him, wearing pretty dresses, her laughter clear and bright. Her affection was radiant and bold, her pursuit uninhibited and frank. A stark contrast to me, then, swollen with hormones due to my severe illness, my face covered in red blotches, lying in bed, feeling utterly mortified. “Hello? Are you looking for Mr. Osmond?” She smiled gently, her gaze sweeping over my slightly oversized top and dull, yellowish hair, her tone still perfectly polite. I stood frozen, my fingers unconsciously curling, tightening around the handle of the insulated container. “I… came to drop something off.” “Oh, I see.” She nodded understandingly, her voice still soft, but with a natural, almost proprietorial air. “Mr. Osmond is still in a meeting. You might have to wait a while.” Her gaze returned to my face, as if she suddenly remembered something, and the corners of her lips curved into a perfectly appropriate smile. “Oh, forgive me, I got carried away talking.” “There’s a gala tonight, and Mr. Osmond has high standards for his date. We couldn’t find anyone more suitable on such short notice, so I’m stepping in as a temporary replacement. This outfit is also just put on; I hope it’s not too inappropriate.” Date. High standards. Temporary replacement. These words, like tiny needles, pricked at the most vulnerable spot in my heart. 3 A familiar, dull ache, triggered by emotional turmoil, spread from deep within my knee. I instinctively took half a step back, my spine pressing against the cold wall just to stay upright. The moment I averted my gaze, I suddenly caught my reflection in the nearby floor-to-ceiling window. My face was pale, my oversized top barely concealing my slightly rounded stomach, a result of the hormones. My hair was loosely tied back, dry and yellowish. It was a laughable, tragic contrast to the radiant Scarlett Rivers before me. In that instant, my indignation deflated, and my sense of grievance lost its foundation. Yes, of course. Wasn’t it only natural that he would choose to bring her? What right did I have to feel wronged? I stared blankly out the window as night fell, the streetlights a blur of endless traffic. A car emerged from the distant darkness, then gradually disappeared into the deeper night. The world seemed muted, pressed into silence, leaving only the blurry reflection on the glass, an expression I hadn’t even realized was there – a blankness, a fragile intensity born of pain. When I looked back, James had appeared, standing not far away. He watched me, his eyes swirling with an emotion I couldn’t decipher, a profound sadness. But the moment I looked back, bewildered, a startled shock flashed in his eyes, quickly replaced by icy anger. His probing gaze locked onto me again, his eyes as cold and deep as a dark pool. “Is Sterling Enterprises so powerful that you even investigated her habits and expressions?” “Or do you think climbing into my bed changed your status?” I panicked, suddenly straightening up, the sharp pain in my knee causing me to stumble for a moment. I hurriedly clutched the chicken soup, stammering an explanation: “No, no, I didn’t investigate.” “I just cooked some chicken soup for you, wanted to bring it for you to taste.” “It simmered for two hours…” Under his cold, disdainful stare, my voice trembled, eventually trailing off into a meek silence. He sneered, his tone laced with ice. “Hah, chicken soup?” “Then why, of all things, did you choose to bring me chicken soup?” “I’m sorry, I, I didn’t know you and her, I just, I just…” I was flustered, words stuck in my throat. Just what? That I’m thinner and prettier now, so I want to pursue you again? But even with my illness controlled, I was only better-looking than before. Could I ever compare to the woman who held his heart? I silently closed my mouth, lowering my eyes, not daring to look at him. He strode closer, the silent pressure instantly filling the air around us. His nostrils flared almost imperceptibly, his voice suddenly dropping, laced with an incredulous, furious rage: “You even found out the exact brand of shower gel she liked?!” “I didn’t! I don’t know…” I was frantic and incoherent, my left wrist starting to throb and tremble with nerves. “The one at home ran out, I just bought whatever was handy…” “Silence!” He almost roared, his jawline taut, his eyes swirling with extreme sorrow and pain. “You are not worthy to speak of her!” “And you are not to investigate her!” “And you are certainly not to imitate her!” “I told you, what we have is just a transaction!” “You’re to discreetly uphold the title of ‘Mrs. Osmond,’ who gave you the audacity to desecrate her like this?!” I’d been married to him for two years, and though he disliked me, he’d always been distant and polite. His furious reprimand felt like the final straw, breaking my already taut nerves. My heart felt as if it had been seized, a violent pain exploding and spreading. My left wrist suddenly gave way, unable to hold the insulated container. The scalding chicken soup splashed onto the floor, splattering my calves, stinging with a searing burn. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” I knelt awkwardly, my right hand pressing fiercely against my uncontrollably trembling left wrist. Tears streamed down my face, silently, like a broken dam. Apologizing for repeatedly intruding on his raw, bleeding wound. Apologizing even more for this infatuation and insistence that was destined to be futile. My voice caught in a sob, my shoulders shaking uncontrollably. “I’ll clean it up.” He looked at my huddled, trembling figure, a flicker of something complex in his eyes, but it was quickly masked by an even deeper coldness. He bent down, stopping me from reaching for the spilled container. His eyes held a mix of weariness and disgust. “What exactly are you doing now, looking like this?” His voice had regained its calm, but it was even more cutting. “Trying to win my sympathy?” I bit down hard on my lower lip, shaking my head desperately, but choked too much to make a sound. “You better not be.” 4 Scarlett quietly approached, her face a picture of perfectly calibrated concern with a hint of awkwardness: “Mr. Osmond, we need to leave for the gala.” He flung my hand away, coldly dropping a command: “Have Liam take her home.” “And from now on, don’t let her up here without my permission.” “Understood.” Scarlett replied respectfully, her gaze at me filled with a hint of mockery and taunt. In the news conferences that followed in the next few days, Osmond Industries once again successfully expanded its footprint in the medical field. And always behind him, you could see that dazzling figure. Scarlett Rivers, smiling brightly, her demeanor poised, handled every challenging question from the media. A bold reporter pushed to the front, asking sharply: “Rumor has it you’ve been married to the Sterling heiress for years, yet recently you’ve been attending galas with your assistant. Does this confirm the rumors of your marital discord?” Scarlett tried to intervene, but James raised a hand to stop her. His eyes darkened slightly, his cold gaze fixed on the camera: “It’s true that the Sterling heiress and I are incompatible. We’ve decided to divorce.” His tone was calm and resolute, yet every word was a knife plunging into my heart. The knitting needles for the scarf in my hands tangled, and a needle sharply pricked my fingertip. A bead of blood instantly welled up, staining the yarn. But I was lost in a daze, staring at the screen. Not until the night swallowed the last ray of twilight did I quietly put away my knitting. Silently waiting for him to come home, for the final declaration. That wait stretched for three months. Initially, I just felt unusually tired and drowsy, often falling asleep on the sofa without warning. My body became alternately hot and cold, and my limbs and cheeks began to swell, leaving deep indentations when pressed. What terrified me most was the reappearance of the familiar, butterfly-shaped red rash on my face, growing more vivid by the day. The appearance I had so painstakingly maintained was visibly crumbling, reverting to my most mortifying state from years ago. I frantically rummaged under the bed for my pills, attempting to belatedly control it. But my body felt out of control, plummeting towards an abyss. My joints became unbearably swollen and painful; I couldn’t even hold a water glass. Until one morning, a wave of nausea struck without warning. I rushed to the bathroom, vomiting until I was dizzy, seeing stars. The nausea and dry heaving became more frequent. I often spent entire nights hunched over the toilet. Not from vomiting, but because my joints were so severely swollen and painful that I couldn’t find the strength to even lean against the wall. It wasn’t until my abdomen visibly rounded and my period was long overdue that I belatedly realized. I might be… pregnant. A tidal wave of panic overwhelmed me. This child was coming at the worst possible time. And I couldn’t bear another round of pain and humiliation. I realized that for the sake of the baby, I had to escape! I gritted my teeth, enduring the pain as I packed my luggage. I staggered as I pushed open the door, only to come face to face with James, who had finally returned from his business trip. He looked travel-worn, his eyes pausing, a flicker of confusion. Then those probing eyes sharpened, locking onto mine. I flinched, my heart threatening to leap from my chest, but I quickly calmed myself. I was two sizes larger than three months ago, bloated and almost back to my former state. My face was also wrapped in a thick scarf, revealing only my eyes, so he shouldn’t recognize me. I lowered my head, silently quickening my pace, trying to slip past him. But he suddenly grabbed my wrist, pulling me back. His usually stern voice was now hoarse and broken, even tinged with an unbelievable euphoria and a careful, pleading tone: “Is that you? Violet?” “You’re not dead, are you? You’ve finally come to find me?”

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The instant my husband left for his business trip, water began to seep from the bathroom ceiling again. A familiar dread, mixed with a growing suspicion, twisted in my gut. It had been this way since we moved into this new complex: every time he was away, the upstairs neighbors’ pipes would start acting up. The first few times, he’d flat-out refused to let me go up and confront them, claiming they were unreasonable and he didn’t want me getting upset. After he’d “talked to them,” the leak would indeed stop for a few days. But the moment he was gone again, the dripping would resume. This time, I still called him first. “Babe, the bathroom’s leaking again.” Perhaps it was just my imagination, but I thought I heard the distinct sound of running water on his end before his voice came through. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, his tone dismissive. “I’ll deal with it when I get back. Those upstairs folks are a handful; definitely don’t go up there yourself.” Like always, I mumbled an agreement, but my feet were already carrying me out the front door. I was determined to see just how “difficult” these neighbors really were. 1 Pressing the button for the floor above, a mix of nerves and curiosity churned within me. My husband, Robert, always claimed the upstairs residents were ill-tempered, yet every time he spoke to them, the issue would “magically resolve” for a few days. It was just too strange. The elevator doors opened, and I took a deep breath, heading towards their apartment. As I approached, I could faintly hear the sound of water, accompanied by a woman’s light laughter. I raised my hand and knocked. The sounds abruptly ceased. I waited for what felt like an eternity, but no one answered. I knocked again, harder this time, raising my voice. “Hello, I’m your downstairs neighbor. My bathroom ceiling is leaking again, and I’d like to discuss it.” Still no response. The water sounds remained silent. A faint, sweet scent wafted from beneath the door – a fragrance I’d never bought myself, yet it struck me as oddly familiar. My mind a jumble of unease, I waited patiently for several more minutes. When no one appeared, I finally gave up and headed back downstairs. Back in my apartment, I opened the building’s resident chat, hoping to find contact information for the upstairs unit, but after scrolling for ages, I found nothing. The growing sense that something was off prompted me to call building management, but even they knew little about that particular apartment. I walked out onto my balcony, thinking I might try to call out to them. The moment I peered over, I saw a familiar flash of gray. Wasn’t that Robert’s favorite gray jacket? I strained to see more clearly, but after squatting there for half an hour, no one else appeared on the balcony. Had I just imagined it? I shook my head, convincing myself I was simply overthinking things, conjuring illusions out of stress. Just then, my front door lock clicked. I jumped. Robert was away; who else had a key to my place? Could the upstairs neighbor have been provoked and now decided to retaliate? I grabbed the broom leaning nearby, hid behind the door, and waited, heart pounding, for the door to open. It slowly swung inward. A figure stepped inside, a bouquet of roses in hand. I froze, the broom clattering to the floor. “Robert? You’re supposed to be on a business trip! What are you doing back?” He looked equally startled to see me, then smiled and walked over. “The company had a last-minute change of plans for the project. And when you told me about the leak, I just couldn’t rest easy. Thought I’d come home to check on you and surprise you.” He reached out to hug me, but I instinctively stepped back. “I just went up to talk to them. Someone was definitely inside, but they wouldn’t open the door.” Robert’s eyes flickered, and he quickly changed the subject. “I told you they were difficult. I’ll go talk to them tomorrow; you just stay out of it.” He offered me the roses, then leaned in to kiss me. In that instant, I caught the same familiar scent I’d noticed upstairs, and my stomach tightened. The strong fragrance of the roses had initially masked it. But as he drew closer, I also noticed the hair at the back of his neck was damp. I reached out and touched it. “Why is your hair wet?” His body stiffened for a fraction of a second, then he chuckled. “Didn’t you notice it’s raining outside? Got caught in a downpour when I stopped to buy you flowers.” I pulled back the curtains. Indeed, a light rain had started at some point. Robert’s explanation sounded perfectly plausible, but my suspicions didn’t diminish in the slightest. I kept my poker face, though, taking the flowers with a happy smile. “Thanks, babe. You should go take a hot shower; you don’t want to catch a cold.” He seemed to let out a sigh of relief, heading straight for the bathroom without another word. Lying in bed that night, my mind replayed the day’s events: the persistent leak when Robert was away, the suspicious running water, the scent, the fleeting glimpse of a familiar jacket, and his sudden, convenient return. All these details didn’t quite add up. Tomorrow, I vowed, I would accompany Robert to meet that neighbor. 2 The next morning, as I placed breakfast on the table, Robert came over, pecked me on the cheek, and said casually, “Hey, babe, I tried contacting the upstairs residents. They said they’d have someone come fix it again today.” My hand, holding the milk carton, paused. I looked up at him. “You have their contact info? Can you give it to me? That way, if you’re ever away and there’s a problem, I can just deal with it myself.” But Robert shook his head, a playful glint in his eye. “The upstairs tenant is a guy, and he looked kinda creepy. My wife’s too pretty; I don’t want him bothering you. Besides, once this leak is fixed, we won’t have any reason to interact with him again.” I didn’t reply, just stirred my oatmeal, a fresh wave of doubt washing over me. Yesterday, I distinctly heard a woman’s voice. Why was Robert telling me it was a man? Were they a couple living up there? The next two days, I had to go out of town for work. But I was distracted, my mind consumed by the lingering questions. Finally, with my work done, I decided to head home early. I put my key in the lock, but for some reason, the door was double-locked from the inside. About two minutes later, Robert finally opened it. “Babe, what are you doing back? Aren’t you supposed to be home tomorrow?” I saw the panic in his eyes, but forced a smile. “Missed you, so I came back early. What were you doing? Why was the door double-locked?” Robert gestured to the apron he was wearing. “I was just cooking. Probably just locked it out of habit when I came in. Perfect timing, actually; go wash up and we can eat.” He then turned back to the kitchen, bustling about. Since marrying him, I’d barely set foot in the kitchen whenever he was home. Everyone said I’d snagged a good one. He was also big on holidays, always showering me with gifts, big and small. Watching his busy figure, a sudden wave of guilt washed over me. Maybe I was just being overly sensitive. It was probably just a coincidence. How could I even suspect him of cheating? I nodded cheerfully and walked over to look at the dishes, but then I spotted something that shouldn’t have been on the table. My heart sank. “Why did you make braised prawns? We’re both allergic to shellfish, remember?” The storm clouds of suspicion, which I’d momentarily suppressed, now rolled back in with full force. Robert seemed to suddenly remember, hastily dumping the prawns into the trash. “Oh, right! My subordinate said these were home-grown, so I just took them. Good thing you’re home, babe, otherwise I’d be suffering.” He then put an arm around me, coaxing. “Forget it, let’s go out for a nice dinner tonight; we won’t eat at home.” He hugged me sweetly, then humbly massaged my back and shoulders. Once we arrived at the restaurant, he handed me his phone. “Order whatever you want, don’t try to save money for me, okay? All my earnings are for my precious wife.” As I took the phone to order, my finger accidentally brushed the search icon. The next second, a pink 26-key keyboard popped up. My heart plummeted. I stared blankly at the glaring keyboard. I’d been with Robert for three years, married for two; I knew his typing habits better than anyone. We both preferred the 9-key layout, finding the 26-key too cumbersome. Even if it was an accidental tap, what about the pink cat-themed keyboard skin? Robert always used his phone’s default keyboard. This had to be something someone had deliberately set up. At that moment, I knew for sure: Robert was cheating. That woman loved rose-scented shower gel, enjoyed braised prawns, and used a 26-key keyboard. But I wouldn’t confront him directly. I would catch them myself. 3 In the days that followed, to make Robert lower his guard, I never brought up the upstairs apartment again. And indeed, after he said the upstairs residents had called someone to fix it, there hadn’t been any more leaks. Less than a week later, whether his mistress couldn’t wait or Robert was just eager, he went on another “business trip.” This time, half a day after he left, there were no leaks from upstairs. Had it actually been fixed? Just then, a knock echoed at the door, followed by the delivery driver’s voice. I paused, confused. I hadn’t ordered anything; why was there a delivery? I opened the door and took the package. The moment I saw what was inside, my heart started pounding frantically. The recipient was Robert, the address was our apartment number, and the phone number was my secondary line. But inside the bag were a bottle of shower gel, a box of condoms, and a bottle of lubricant. My heart constricted, the items in my hand suddenly weighing a ton. Just as I suspected, twisting open the shower gel released that familiar scent, instantly assaulting my senses. And I was allergic to lubricant; in all our time together, we had never used such a thing. The truth was now glaringly obvious: Robert was with that woman right now. He had ordered these items but hadn’t paid attention to the delivery address, so they ended up here. The delivery app not automatically switching addresses also suggested his second home was likely somewhere nearby in the complex. If I wasn’t mistaken, the upstairs apartment had to be his little bird’s hideout! That day when I came back early from my business trip, he was cooking for her! But whether she hadn’t arrived yet, or had left early because she knew I was coming back, I still couldn’t figure out. I was so angry I could barely breathe, tears welling up in my eyes. But quickly, I wiped them away and carried the items out the door. Upstairs, I knocked hard. In less than ten minutes, the door opened. “What the hell do you want, banging on my door in the middle of the night?!” Staring at the hulking man in front of me, I was utterly unprepared and froze. What was going on? Had I been imagining things all along?! Before I could react, the man roughly yanked my hair, sending me crashing against the door frame. “I’ve had enough of you! Your man keeps bothering me, and now I’ve fixed the leak, and you’re still causing trouble? I’m going to beat you senseless!” His fist, like a brick, slammed into my body. I cried out in pain, begging him to stop. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please don’t hit me!” Just as I was about to pass out, the man finally stopped. “I’m warning you, if you ever come up here to bother me again, I will kill you!” I lay curled on the floor, too sore to speak. The man slammed the door shut. After about ten agonizing minutes, I slowly managed to get up and stagger back to my apartment. Near collapse, I video-called Robert. When he saw my face, he immediately looked frantic. “Babe, what happened to your face?! Who hurt you?” Ignoring his question, I held up the bag of items. “Robert, how do you explain these?” He looked genuinely surprised, then angry. “This has to be that upstairs tenant’s doing! That day I went up to get him to fix the leak, he got really annoyed and demanded I pay for the repairs. When I refused, he tried to hit me. I told him I’d call the cops before he finally let me go. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to worry you. This is definitely his revenge. I’m coming back right now!” The throbbing pain in my body made it impossible to discern the truth from his words. About three hours later, Robert returned, looking disheveled and wind-blown. 4 The moment Robert stepped through the door, his eyes reddened at the sight of the bruises on my face. He rushed over, gently stroking my injuries, his voice a mix of urgency and tenderness. “I’m going up there right now to settle this with him! He’s going to pay!” Robert immediately grabbed my arm and dragged me upstairs, pounding on the neighbor’s door with such force my heart nearly leaped from my chest. “Open up! Get out here!” There was no sound from inside, so he hammered on the door several more times. Finally, the door opened. It was the same man, looking thoroughly annoyed. “What do you two want now? Looking for another beating, are we?!” Robert instantly pulled me behind him, pointing a finger at the man’s nose. “How dare you say that? You bought all that garbage for my wife and laid hands on her! Today, it’s either you or me!” The man scoffed, completely unfazed. “So what if I bought them? If you won’t give me peace, I won’t give you peace!” Both Robert and I were stunned, completely unprepared for such a blunt admission. I felt a pang of guilt for having doubted Robert and couldn’t help but ask, “Why would you do this? Just because we asked you to fix the leak?” The man leaned against the doorframe, his eyes full of malice. “Yeah, I was sick and tired of you two bugging me! I was annoyed!” He pointed a finger at us. “I’m warning you, if you ever dare to knock on this door again, I will seriously kill someone!” Robert was fuming, about to charge forward, but I held him back. “Forget it. There’s no point talking to this kind of person. Let’s call the police!” But at the mention of the police, the two men exchanged a quick glance, a hint of panic in their eyes. Robert’s anger suddenly deflated. He pulled me close, trying to dissuade me. “Babe, we just moved here. If we make too big a fuss, the neighbors will start talking.” Then the man’s demeanor abruptly changed too. He said in a deep voice, “Hitting you was wrong, but you guys pushed me too far! Your husband came up here how many times? Anyone would get annoyed!” He paused. “Look, how much money do you want? I’ll compensate you and apologize. Just drop it.” Considering how much we’d invested in this apartment, and wanting to avoid further trouble, I decided to let it go. Life returned to normal, and my suspicions evaporated. Until, that is, I was rummaging through a drawer for a bank card and stumbled upon a few old property fee statements. I looked closely at them. The address was the upstairs apartment’s! My hand, holding the papers, trembled uncontrollably. My heart sank completely. Not only that, but I also discovered a new key on Robert’s keyring. I secretly took it off and had an identical copy made. The next time he went on a “business trip,” I opened the tracking app I’d secretly installed on his phone. Sure enough, he was still in the complex. Holding the copied key, I took a deep breath and walked upstairs. My hand trembled as I stood before the door, but I inserted the key, turned it, and the door opened. The next second, a woman’s scream pierced the air: “Who are you?! Why are you in my apartment?!” Ignoring her, I frantically searched the apartment, almost insane with desperation, but there was no sign of Robert. Why? Why? I scanned everything, on the verge of collapse. On the sofa lay a gray jacket that I recognized instantly. On the bedside table was a razor, his preferred brand. Everything screamed one truth: Robert was cheating! But I still couldn’t prove it! Amidst the woman’s furious shouts, I returned home. Pushing open my own door, I froze. Robert was standing there, holding his phone, looking at me with a puzzled expression. “Babe, where did you go just now? I left and then remembered I’d forgotten my phone, so I came back to get it.” I stood in the doorway, staring at him, utterly speechless. My mind, however, was screaming: What in the world is going on?!

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1 My son, Fred, was with me at the hospital, getting an IV drip, when a little girl nearby started wailing, absolutely refusing to get her shot. I was watching, a frown creasing my brow, when suddenly a male nurse grabbed Fred and pulled him away. “Be a good boy, sweetie, I’ll give him the shot first. He can show you how it’s done, okay?” I immediately protested. Not for any other reason than Fred was severely allergic to many medications. A random injection could be disastrous. But before I could even finish my sentence, a stinging slap landed across my face. “My daughter is a princess of the McKay family! Letting your little brat take a shot with her is an honor! Don’t be so ungrateful!” I had no idea Aurora McKay had a daughter… … “I’m not doing it! No!” In the infusion room, the screams and cries of a child were incessant. Occasionally, tweezers, alcohol swabs, or needles would fly through the air, threatening to hit someone. Several patients, unable to bear it, had already dragged their ailing bodies out of the room. Fred clung to me, his face pale. He’d been frail since birth; my wife, Aurora McKay, and I had coddled him for years to help him function like any other child. Seeing him like this, my heart ached. I regretted giving in to his pleas to accompany me for my IV. This was a McKay-owned hospital; I could easily voice my concerns to the chief of staff. But it was a holiday weekend, and the patient flow was immense; I didn’t want to waste medical resources over a trivial matter. It was strange, though. Despite the crowded infusion room, and those who had fled, not a single person dared to speak up. They just endured it, some silently adjusting their IV drip rates, desperate to finish and leave. Frowning, I raised my voice. “Excuse me, this is a public space, and everyone here is a patient who needs rest. Could you please ask your child to quiet down?” I added, “My child isn’t feeling well, and loud noises upset his heart. Please try to be considerate. Thank you.” The male nurse, who had been trying to pacify the little girl, stopped and turned to look at me. He scowled, his tone self-righteous. “No one else here has a problem, only you. Don’t you know what ‘minority abides by the majority’ means?” He then scanned the room. Wherever his gaze fell, people quickly lowered their heads. Satisfied, he nodded. Then, as if bestowing a favor, he addressed me. “Guess it’s my bad luck today, running into two worthless commoners, big and small, who think everyone should cater to them in a public place. Whatever, I need to take care of my daughter, too lazy to bother with you.” Before turning away, he glanced dismissively at Fred, his eyes practically dripping with scorn. “Knows he’s a sickly kid and still runs around all the time. At such a young age, trying to flirt with rich ladies, like some kind of frail little gold digger?” He paused. “Doesn’t look like it’s working, though. So many people here, and no one’s standing up for you.” He leaned in, his voice dropping slightly. “Know why?” He chuckled darkly. “Let me give you a piece of advice: Do you even know who I am…?” The nurse’s taunts had begun to fuel my anger, but I didn’t want to scare Fred, so I forced myself to be patient and reasonable. “I don’t care who you are. This is a public place!” I insisted. “People should have some common decency!” The nurse stared at me for a long moment, as if he’d discovered something new, then suddenly let out a laugh. He leaned down and whispered something to his daughter, pointing at Fred as he spoke. Although I disliked his finger-pointing, at least his persuasion seemed to quiet the girl down. I breathed a sigh of relief. Then I noticed Fred struggling to breathe, his heart clearly in distress. Frantically patting my pockets, I realized I hadn’t brought his medicine. Panicked, I asked a kind-looking gentleman nearby to keep an eye on Fred, then grabbed my IV bag and rushed out. My phone vibrated; a quick glance showed a message from Aurora. “Sweetheart, when will you be done? I’ll come pick you both up. I already sent Liam over with the herbal soup I personally prepared for you. Waaah, honey, why won’t you let me skip work to be with you?” My mind was a mess; I had no time to reply. Thankfully, I always kept emergency medicine in the car, so I wouldn’t be completely helpless. I sped up, finally feeling a wave of relief once I had the medicine in hand. Still a ways from the infusion room, I saw a shadowy figure lurking behind Fred. A smirk of revenge twisted on his face. By the time I realized what he intended to do, it was too late. 2 “Boo!” The man suddenly jumped out from behind Fred. Several people nearby were startled, ready to curse, but swallowed their words the moment they recognized him. Fred let out a small gasp, convulsing as he clutched his chest and collapsed to the floor. “The little brat’s quite the actor, isn’t he?” I immediately ran over. “What are you doing?!” At the same time, the little girl in the opposite seat suddenly shrieked and, mimicking Fred, slumped in her chair. The man ignored me, rushing towards the girl. “Pearl! My sweet girl! What’s wrong with you?!” He cried. “Pearl! Wake up—” He dabbed at a few nonexistent tears, then wailed dramatically in the infusion room for a few moments before the girl slowly came to. She huddled in the man’s arms, clutching her chest, looking utterly miserable. “Oh, Daddy, I’m scared, my heart hurts so much.” The man’s expression hardened. “Pearl, tell Daddy, who scared you?” The girl pointed a finger at Fred. “It was him—” I found it utterly ridiculous. My heart pounded furiously with anger. I held Fred close, comforting him, ignoring the dislodged IV needle, and sharply reprimanded the man. “That’s absurd!” I snapped. “Fred barely made a sound when he was scared, quieter even than your outburst or the startled gasps of those other gentlemen. Unless you were listening carefully, you wouldn’t have heard it. How could he possibly have scared her?!” But the man ignored me, rushing over and brutally yanking Fred from my arms. I was already weak from my illness and completely unable to resist him. The man grabbed Fred by the hair, holding him up as he addressed the other patients. “Folks, I trust your eyes are sharp. Tell me, whose voice truly scared my daughter?” I looked hopefully at the older gentlemen and ladies. How could any clear-sighted person not see whose fault it truly was? But they avoided my gaze. “I, I saw it clearly. Miss McKay was scared only after that little boy made a sound…” “I saw it too! It was that little boy who scared Miss McKay!” “Poor Miss McKay, she’s ill and still being blamed and picked on everywhere. Mr. Florrick, you’re a generous man to let it go, but these two actually tried to scare Miss McKay! How can there be such a black-hearted father and son in this world!” “Disgusting!” I stared in disbelief at the crowd, who were now vehemently condemning Fred and me. They were indignant, as if Fred and I were truly the most heinous criminals. My vision blurred. After being shoved down by the man, I had remained on the floor, too weak to get up. There were many people around. No one dared to help me up. Most of them were echoing the man, vilifying Fred and me. But Fred was still in his hands. I could only grit my teeth, struggling to get back on my feet. A passing nurse, unable to bear it any longer, bit her lip and helped me up. She quickly whispered in my ear, “I advise you to play along with him, don’t confront him anymore. Just let him vent, and it’ll pass.” She continued, “He’s basically just loafing around the hospital, always throwing his weight around, never doing any actual work, and nobody dares to do anything about him.” I clenched my jaw, asking, “Why is someone like that allowed to stay in this hospital, wasting such good resources?!” The nurse gave me an odd look. “You really don’t know who he is? He’s Florrick Adrian, the husband of Aurora McKay, the head of the McKay family, the wealthiest in the city. His son is truly a McKay princess; it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say his family has a throne to inherit.” She leaned in again. “Do you think these people haven’t tried to stop him before? They’ve all been taught a lesson already. Trust me, he won’t go as far as causing a fatality. Just bear with it; it’ll be over soon.” The nurse’s words left me stunned. If I hadn’t misheard, the wealthiest family in the city, the head of the McKay family, was my wife, Aurora McKay. But when did Aurora McKay get such a grown-up daughter? And how did her husband become Florrick Adrian? My mind flashed back to the sweet message she’d just sent. Before I could ponder it further, Florrick Adrian sighed dramatically. “I really didn’t want to make a big deal out of this,” he declared. “But this lady and her son keep harassing my son and me, again and again.” He continued, “My wife loves me to death. I can’t imagine what the consequences would be if she found out.” He paused for effect. “My wife isn’t like me; she’s not one to be reasoned with. If she found out, I’m afraid everyone here would be in trouble.” He added, “After all, it’s because of your negligence that my son and I have been harmed.” He then pulled out his phone, a sinister smile on his face. “What to do? She just sent me a message saying she’s coming to see me and our son right away.” He concluded, “That’s how much she loves us. During work hours, she heard our son was unwell and is rushing right over.” 3 Such unreasonable remarks, yet everyone’s resentment could only be swallowed. Their primary fear now was the unknown retaliation from the rumored head of the McKay family. These were ordinary people, keenly aware that a single finger from someone with that background could crush them. They dared not blame the irrational Florrick Adrian. Thus, all their anger was redirected towards Fred and me. Between the McKay family and seemingly unremarkable Fred and me, anyone could grasp who held more weight. Someone, anxious to appease, immediately proposed, “Mr. Florrick, please don’t be upset. We’ll all bear witness here. Let’s teach this reckless father and son a lesson, and you can calm down, okay?” Just then, Florrick Adrian, seemingly tired, casually tossed Fred onto the floor. I tried to rush forward, but suddenly several large men from behind me pinned me to the ground. Someone slapped me, the blow making my entire head ring. “Stay put!” “You shameless brat, it’s all your fault for angering Mr. Florrick! Do you want to drag us down with you now?!” Some of the accompanying family members also immediately got up, ready to act. One of them rummaged through a trash can and pulled out a discarded needle. Gritting his teeth, he straddled Fred. “It’s your rotten mouth! Why did you have to speak up and scare Miss Pearl?!” He snarled, “I’ll sew it shut right now! Let’s see if you can still speak up and harm people after this!” Several others, quick to anticipate, immediately rushed over and held down Fred’s limbs, preventing him from struggling. The moment the needle pierced Fred’s lower lip, I erupted with astonishing strength, roaring as I broke free from the men’s grasp and lunged towards Fred. “Get off him! Get away!” I trembled, holding Fred close. The needle was already through his lower lip; I didn’t dare move, unsure what to do. I knelt, crying, begging the nurses nearby for help. “Please, I’m begging you, I’m kowtowing to you. Save my son, he’s really not well…” But no one responded. They watched with cold eyes, no one daring to get involved. Florrick Adrian suddenly began to cry as well. “Is not being well an excuse to harm people?!” He wailed, “Did I say anything when my daughter was scared like that? Why is it now making it look like we’re bullying you?” He added, “If only my wife were here…” Florrick Adrian’s sorrowful cries terrified the crowd even more. Now that he was only crying and not speaking, the others, at a loss, could only bow and scrape before his daughter. Pearl stretched, then announced loudly, “Giving shots is so much fun, Daddy, teach me! I want to give this little brat a shot too—” Someone quick-witted immediately seized the opportunity to flatter Pearl. “Miss Pearl is so kind and generous! She knows he’s unwell and still wants to learn how to give him shots to cure him—” Another chimed in, “You two little wretches should be kneeling and bowing to Miss Pearl and Mr. Florrick!” Florrick Adrian was quite pleased with this suggestion. “Good girl, Pearl! How about Daddy gives him a shot first, shows you how it’s done, and then you can give him one, okay?” My only thought was that I absolutely couldn’t let them take Fred from my arms again. Fred was allergic to many medications; any random drug injected into his body without medical supervision could be fatal. I wanted to escape this place. But the doorway was blocked by several burly men. “You wretch, we gave you a chance to atone, and you refuse! Do you want to drag us all to hell with you?!” Someone tried to snatch the nearly unconscious Fred from my arms. The force was so great I feared Fred’s arm might be torn off. In that brief moment of loosening my grip, Fred was immediately pulled away. Over there, many needles and vials of liquid were already prepared. No. Absolutely not! I could only grit my teeth and lunge at Pearl. In a move no one expected, I snatched a needle and held it to her neck. Extreme rage made my whole body tremble. “Let go of my son.” I warned, my voice tight. “I am Aurora McKay’s husband. If you touch my son again, I swear I won’t let any of you get away with it!” Florrick Adrian shrieked, tears instantly flooding his eyes. “Wife!” Just as he screamed, I suddenly felt a heavy blow to the back of my head with a wooden stick. “How dare you touch my daughter? Do you have a death wish?” Florrick Adrian was overjoyed. “Wife!” The searing pain at the back of my head almost made me collapse. Hearing him say “wife,” I froze. Had Aurora McKay arrived?

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