1 During the holiday weekend, my mother-in-law and I went to visit the city aquarium. The crowds were shoulder to shoulder, and amidst the pushing, an immaculately dressed woman suddenly lashed out. “Do you have eyes in your heads?! You’re crushing my bag! This is a limited edition! If you ruin it, can you two poor beggars even afford to pay for it?!” I looked at her calmly. “This is a public space, not your private living room. If you’re so terrified of someone brushing against your bag, why don’t you build your own private aquarium to look at the fish?” The woman’s face twisted with humiliated rage. “My husband actually did build this aquarium! I make the rules here! I am ordering you to get the hell out right now! Stop polluting my space!” My mother-in-law and I both froze. This aquarium was built by Sebastian Sinclair. Since when did he become her husband? When the realization finally hit me, my entire body began to tremble. Sebastian was keeping a mistress. My mother-in-law was shaking with fury too. She pointed a finger right at the woman’s nose. “Where did this crazy woman come from?! Sebastian is my son! His legally wedded wife is standing right here! Who the hell do you think you are, barking orders in this place?!” Instead of panicking at the harsh scolding, the woman threw her head back and laughed like she had just heard the greatest joke in the world. “You two poor beggars have the nerve to pretend to be Mrs. Sinclair and her daughter-in-law? That is hilarious!” My mother-in-law had specifically dressed down today to avoid drawing attention and have a quiet, normal experience. Who would have thought her low profile would lead to her identity being questioned? “Whether you believe it or not, I don’t care. I never liked using my status to bully people, but this is Sinclair territory. The only one rolling out of here is you!” my mother-in-law snapped sharply. A mocking smirk tugged at the corners of the woman’s lips. Her eyes scanned my mother-in-law’s plain canvas tote bag like a barcode reader. “Right.” She scoffed through her nose. “You put on a decent act. But everyone knows the elder Mrs. Sinclair is a complete recluse. And the younger Mrs. Sinclair is always by the CEO’s side at high-end galas. They would never dress like absolute trash and squeeze into a crowded, sweaty public aquarium. Who are you trying to fool?” People had already stopped walking, forming a circle around us. The curious stares and hushed whispers felt like tiny needles piercing my skin. My mother-in-law’s face went from flushed red to a sickly pale, her breathing growing ragged. I quickly grabbed her arm to support her, terrified she might pass out from the anger. “What? Cat got your tongue?” Seeing our silence, the woman’s arrogance swelled. She pulled out her phone, swiping the screen with exaggerated, dramatic motions. “Do you want me to call Sebastian right now and have him expose you two frauds in person? Oh, wait. He’s incredibly busy making money right now. He doesn’t have the time to entertain a couple of nobodies.” My mother-in-law’s lips were turning purple. I squeezed her hand tightly, feeling the tremors wracking her frame. I took a deep breath, forcing the violent storm inside my chest to settle. Getting into a screaming match with this kind of woman in public would only lower us to her level. That was exactly what she wanted. “Call him.” My voice wasn’t loud, but it carried an undeniable, freezing authority. “Call Sebastian right now. Put it on speaker. Let us all hear how he has absolutely no time for his legally wedded wife and the mother who gave birth to him.” My sheer composure clearly caught her off guard. She paused for a second, but her aggressive facade quickly snapped back into place. “Wow, you are really committed to this bit, aren’t you? You won’t cry until you see the coffin.” She let out a harsh sneer and shoved her phone screen right in our faces. The contact pulled up was Sebastian’s private, unlisted number. “See this? His private line! Do you think a couple of cheap frauds would have access to this?” It felt like a hand made of solid ice had reached into my chest and crushed my heart. The pain was so suffocating I couldn’t breathe. Sebastian… he had actually given this woman his private number. 2 All those nights he claimed he was working late, those business dinners that dragged into the early hours of the morning, those faint whiffs of unfamiliar perfume lingering on his collar. They all rushed into my mind like a violent tide, turning into sharp blades tearing through my chest. The crowd of onlookers was growing thicker, and the whispers were turning into loud murmurs. The woman shrieked at us to take out our phones and show Sebastian’s number. But we had left in such a hurry this morning that neither of us had brought our phones. Seeing that we couldn’t produce any proof, the doubtful looks from the crowd slowly shifted into judgmental sneers. They were completely enjoying the show. She lifted her chin triumphantly, looking exactly like a peacock displaying its feathers. “I knew you two beggars were lying! You’re just making a fool of yourselves!” My mother-in-law’s body shook violently. It wasn’t fear. It was pure, unadulterated rage. She had lived her entire life with grace and dignity. Never once had she been subjected to this kind of public humiliation. Let alone by a woman of such trashy character pointing a finger in her face and questioning her very existence. “You… you…” Her voice trembled so badly she couldn’t even string a complete sentence together. Seeing this, the woman only sneered louder, pouring gasoline on the fire. “Me what? You can’t keep the act up anymore? I highly suggest you take the hint and get lost right now. Don’t wait until I call security to drag you out. That is going to be incredibly ugly for you.” Right as the tension hit a breaking point, a man in a crisp manager’s suit shoved his way through the tight crowd. “What’s going on here? Please keep the peace, everyone…” His authoritative tone completely evaporated the second his eyes landed on the polished woman. An incredibly flattering, almost sickeningly sweet smile took over his face. “Miss… Miss Vanessa! What are you doing here? Is someone giving you trouble?” Vanessa looked at the manager like he was a loyal servant. Her chin tilted even higher. “Manager Davis, perfect timing. These two crazy hags are causing a scene, and they even had the nerve to impersonate Mr. Sinclair’s wife and mother! Get them out of here immediately! Looking at them makes my eyes hurt!” Davis’s expression instantly hardened. He turned to us, his eyes sharp and completely devoid of patience. “Ladies, please leave the premises immediately. Do not cause trouble here and ruin the experience for our other guests. If you refuse, I will have security escort you out by force.” My mother-in-law shook with fury, pointing a trembling finger right at the manager. “You! You are the manager of this facility, and you blindly listen to a one-sided story from her without even asking what happened? Do you have any idea who I am?!” A fleeting look of contempt crossed Davis’s face. “Ma’am. I haven’t had the honor of meeting the elder Mrs. Sinclair many times, but I know for a fact she wouldn’t be dressed like you. Miss Vanessa is a VIP guest, personally entrusted to us by Mr. Sinclair himself. Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” VIP. I caught the keyword, and the chill in my heart turned to absolute freezing dread. Sebastian had blatantly announced the existence of his mistress to his subordinates? I gently pressed down on my mother-in-law’s shaking arm and took a step forward. My cold gaze swept over both the manager and Vanessa. “Manager Davis, is it? You call her a VIP, which means whatever falls out of her mouth is the absolute truth, and whatever we say is just nonsense. Is that how the Sinclair enterprise treats its guests?” My voice was crystal clear and completely calm, carrying an oppressive weight that demanded answers. Davis clearly hadn’t expected me to question him with such ice-cold composure. He was momentarily stunned into silence. But Vanessa was losing her patience. “Stop wasting your breath on them! Manager Davis, call security right now!” “I would love to see who dares!” My mother-in-law, who had been suppressing her blinding rage this entire time, finally erupted with the true, terrifying authority of the Sinclair family matriarch. 3 She stopped looking at Vanessa entirely, dismissing her like a clown. She locked eyes with the manager and spoke with slow, precise hostility. “You will call Sebastian Sinclair right now. Put it on speaker. I want to ask him personally when some random, shady woman got the right to bark orders in his facilities! I want to ask him if his own mother and his legally wedded wife are supposed to be thrown out of a Sinclair enterprise just because this trash said so!” Her aura was absolutely suffocating. Davis was visibly rattled, a flash of genuine panic crossing his face. Seeing his hesitation, Vanessa threw a furious fit. “Call him! Sebastian is in a board meeting right now! Do you really think I’m scared of you two? Call him, Davis! Let these two frauds accept their pathetic reality!” Under the watchful eyes of dozens of people, Davis pulled out his phone with a trembling hand and dialed the number saved as ‘Boss’. After a few long rings, a cold, automated voice echoed from the speaker. “The number you have dialed is currently unavailable…” Davis froze. He quickly dialed again, but got the exact same result. “Mr. Sinclair might be in a meeting…” he tried to explain weakly. But Vanessa whipped out her own phone, looking incredibly smug. “Let me do it. Sebastian told me that whenever I call, no matter how busy he is, he will always pick up.” The call connected almost instantly. The triumphant smile on Vanessa’s face grew wildly arrogant. She even raised an eyebrow at us in blatant provocation. “Baby, what’s wrong?” Sebastian’s deeply familiar voice poured out of the speaker. Her tone immediately shifted into something sickeningly sweet and whiny, playing the role of the spoiled, helpless damsel flawlessly. “Sebastian, I ran into two crazy old women at the aquarium! They’re bullying me! Come back me up!” “What? That is ridiculous. Wait right there, baby. I’m dropping this meeting and heading over right now. How dare anyone touch my girl…” The utter devotion and protective anger in his response felt like a dagger dipped in lethal poison, plunging straight into my chest. My blood froze solid in my veins. My mother-in-law gripped my hand with a deathly tight hold. She had lived her entire life with unparalleled dignity. She had never suffered such a grotesque humiliation. And the worst part was that this humiliation was handed to her by the very son she had raised. Pushed past the absolute limit of her endurance, she lunged forward and slapped Vanessa across the face. “A dirty mistress acting this arrogant in broad daylight!” The slap was incredibly loud and crisp. It carried every ounce of suppressed rage and humiliation, landing squarely on Vanessa’s delicate cheek. Time seemed to freeze. Vanessa’s head snapped to the side. A bright red handprint blossomed across her skin. She covered her cheek, her eyes blown wide in sheer disbelief. The shock in her gaze rapidly morphed into something utterly venomous and unhinged. “Okay. Good.” She gently rubbed her swollen cheek, looking at my mother-in-law and me like we were livestock waiting to be slaughtered. “You ancient bitch. You dare hit me? Impersonating the Sinclair matriarch and laying hands on me? Today, I am going to show you exactly what happens when you cross Vanessa.” She whipped around to look at the terrified manager, her voice sharp and vicious. “Manager Davis! What the hell are you standing there for?! Grab this crazy old hag!” Davis, remembering how fiercely Sebastian had just defended her on the phone, quickly weighed the risks and made his choice. “Grab the old woman!” The second the words left his mouth, two security guards flanked my mother-in-law, grabbing her arms violently. “Let go of her!” My eyes went bloodshot. I fought like a madwoman, scratching and kicking, but another guard easily overpowered me, pinning me back. Vanessa watched the scene with deep satisfaction. She rubbed her cheek again, her eyes darting around the facility before locking onto the massive, deeply illuminated shark tank at the center of the hall. The dark, eerie blue water reflected against the thick glass. Several massive silhouettes were slowly circling in the depths. A completely wicked plan formed in her mind. She let out a chilling laugh and pointed at the guards. “String this old bitch up over the shark tank.” 4 All the color drained from the manager’s face. “Miss… Miss Vanessa, that is incredibly dangerous!” “Shut your mouth!” she screamed, cutting him off entirely. “Do exactly as I say! Or I am calling Sebastian back, and you can kiss your career goodbye!” He swallowed hard, trembling, and finally gave the security guards a defeated wave of his hand. “No! You can’t do this!” I screamed in absolute terror. My mother-in-law finally realized the horrific danger she was in. She struggled violently. “You venomous snake! What are you doing?!” Vanessa completely ignored our desperate screams. She directed the guards to drag my mother-in-law to the service catwalk directly above the deepest, most active section of the shark enclosure. “Vanessa! Stop this! Let her go! Sebastian will never forgive you for this!” I cried out until my voice cracked, thrashing wildly. My nails dug into the guard’s arm, drawing blood, but I still couldn’t break his iron grip. My mother-in-law’s hands were tied behind her back. The mechanical winch slowly lifted her, leaving her dangling helplessly in the air above the massive tank. “How does it feel, old hag? Enjoying the view from up there?” I fought with everything I had, tears entirely blurring my vision. “Vanessa! What do you want from us?! Let her down! Take it out on me!” “Take it out on you?” Vanessa tilted her head as if she had just heard something fascinating. “Sure. You want me to let this old trash go? It’s very simple.” She pointed a perfectly manicured finger at the cold, hard tile floor. “You. Right now. Get on your knees. Kowtow to me eighteen times. And with every single hit to the floor, you will yell, ‘I was wrong, I shouldn’t have offended Miss Vanessa.’ Once you finish, I might consider pulling her back up.” “Don’t you dare!” my mother-in-law screamed from the air. “Audrey, do not kneel! This venomous snake isn’t worth it!” My whole body was shaking. I looked up at the woman who raised my husband, dangling over the jaws of death. I saw the terrifying dark shadows lurking beneath the water’s surface. Dignity meant absolutely nothing compared to her life. “I’ll kneel!” My forehead slammed into the floor with a heavy, sickening thud. “Audrey! Get up! Don’t kneel to her!” my mother-in-law sobbed from above. I didn’t get up. I slammed my head down a second time. “I was wrong… I shouldn’t have offended Miss Vanessa.” Vanessa let out a delighted, ringing laugh, watching me like I was the main event at a circus. By the time I finished the eighteenth kowtow, my forehead was a bruised, split mess. Warm blood trickled down my skin, blurring my vision and coating my face. “Now. Let her go.” Vanessa clapped her hands, laughing so hard her shoulders shook. “Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant! I had no idea you two had such a touching bond!” She walked over to the edge of the railing, placing her hand right over the release latch for the winch rope. But she didn’t press it. “However…” She dragged the word out. “I changed my mind.” A cruel, totally twisted smile stretched across her face. “You ruined my mood today. Just banging your head on the floor isn’t nearly enough to make up for it. I need to give you a lesson… that you will never, ever forget!” “No!” I let out a blood-curdling scream, lunging forward with everything I had. But I was too late. Vanessa ruthlessly hit the release, severing the cord that held my mother-in-law’s life. “Ah!” A short, terrified gasp escaped my mother-in-law’s lips as she plummeted straight into the shark tank below. A massive splash echoed through the hall. The water churned violently as the dark silhouettes of the predators darted forward with terrifying speed. The pristine blue water was instantly tainted with a horrifying cloud of red. The world turned entirely crimson before my eyes. My scream lodged in my throat, choking me into absolute silence. She was gone. Right in front of my eyes, the mistress my husband pampered had sent his own mother into the jaws of death. Just then, a voice rang out from the crowd. “Mr. Sinclair is here!”

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For seven years, I was with Julian Rubinstein, and for seven years, I was never truly in his heart. His heart belonged to his ‘first love’, Kate Charleson. I was merely a placeholder when he and Kate broke up, a convenient Plan B. For seven years, they broke up and got back together, over and over, and I stayed by his side through it all. Finally, one time, they split for good, and I thought my wait was over. But just as he rolled off me, a satisfied smile still lingering on his face, he told me he wanted to break up. Kate was back. He said he knew I’d waited for him for years, but when it came to Kate, I would always be Plan B. I nodded, understanding. From the very first day we were together, I knew we’d break up eventually. I agreed to the split, then turned around to find my next conquest. But Julian, his eyes red with anger, chased after me, demanding to know how I could change my heart so quickly after waiting seven years. I tilted my head, looking at him. Quick? What was seven years for him? I’d waited eight years for the Crown Prince of the London elite, four years for the dashing playboy of the Manchester scene, and six years for the stoic, ethereal academic. I had a lot on my plate, actually. … “Let’s break up.” Julian said those words just as we finished a passionate encounter. The flush hadn’t even faded from my face, my mind still delightfully blank. I instinctively asked, “What did you say?” Julian’s brows furrowed. “Chloe, don’t play games. It’s unappealing.” “Since you heard me, there’s no need to drag it out. We were always going to break up.” He lit a cigarette, then tossed a card my way. The card slid off the duvet and onto the floor. “These past few months, thank you for taking care of my… needs.” “This is compensation.” Julian was always generous. I quickly got up, picked up the card, carefully brushed off the dust, and slipped it into my bag, smiling. “Thank you, Mr. Rubinstein.” Julian, however, seemed displeased with my reaction, and his brows furrowed again. “You’re not angry at all?” Truly, a high-maintenance character. I quickly tried to smooth things over, my smile extra sweet. “Not at all.” “Julian, I was already happy you agreed to be with me for this time.” “How could I ever be angry with you?” Julian narrowed his eyes in satisfaction, scratching my chin like he would a cat. “Good girl.” He dressed quickly and left in a hurry. I watched his retreating back and sighed. How could I be angry? If he hadn’t brought up breaking up, I would have been racking my brain on how to initiate it myself. After all, if I brought it up, it would be a blow to a man’s ego. Not having him fly into a rage was already a win. Let alone ending it peacefully with a generous severance package like today. Now this was perfect. I could happily and without worry move on to my next target. 2 I’m a serial dater, a heartbreaker. But over the years, I’ve cultivated a reputation for being deeply devoted. I’ve always made sure the men I ‘collect’ never cross paths. So each of them believes they’re my one exception. Take Alexander Sterling, for instance, convinced I’ve waited eight years for him. The aloof academic from London, exasperated by my six years of unwavering patience. Luke Hayes, the charming rebel from Manchester, often boasts about my four years of devoted waiting, making it a regular topic of conversation. The newer ones, not yet ranked, we won’t even mention for now. In short, Julian was just another ordinary page in my collection. But what did I do wrong? I’m just a woman who appreciates all things beautiful in this world, wanting to collect every handsome and attractive man. After all, who can resist a cunning and outwardly reserved CEO, a brilliant and calm academic, a wild and rebellious heir, an aloof and obsessive enigma, a sweet and loyal younger man who’s secretly a powerhouse, and so on? Of course, I’m very sensible. I absolutely never go after men who already have girlfriends. I only strike when they’re single. This creates the illusion that I’ve been waiting for each of them for many years. I put on a red, fitted mini-dress, grabbed my bag, and left the penthouse suite. As I walked out, a tall figure approached. I narrowed my eyes. He was a handsome man. Tall, long-legged, impeccably dressed in a suit with obsidian cufflinks on his pristine sleeves. A few strands of hair fell across his forehead, but couldn’t hide his sharp brows and piercing eyes. His nose was prominent, his lips thin and sensual. I let out an inward gasp. As I passed him, my fingers, light and fleeting, brushed against his. Then I feigned an exaggerated gasp. The man stopped, looking at me, his eyes unreadable. I smiled charmingly, batting my eyelashes: “Excuse me, handsome, in need of a girlfriend?” The handsome man looked quite mature, but his voice, when he spoke, was surprisingly boyish and a little naive: “Miss, can I help you?” My expression stiffened, and I let out a dry laugh. “You… you’re not underage, are you?” “My apologies then.” I awkwardly turned to leave, but the next moment, someone grabbed my arm and pulled me back. I stumbled into the man’s embrace. His hot body pressed tightly against mine, the scent of expensive cologne swirling around my nose, making me feel dizzy. He leaned down, his deliberately lowered, magnetic voice falling into my ear, his breath scorching: “Sister, I’m eighteen.” … At the Rubinstein family estate. Julian entered with Kate Charleson. Kate’s gaze swept across the living room, then darkened. The roses on the table, the new slippers by the entrance, all declared the presence of another woman. Julian pulled her into his arms, but just as he was about to kiss her, Kate pushed him away. She grabbed his shirt collar. A lipstick mark was clearly visible. “Julian,” she said coldly, “What is this?” Julian paused, then, with a playful grin, explained: “Business dinner, you know, sometimes you have to play the part.” “Kate, let’s not talk about this right now, okay?” “Business dinner?” Kate curled her lip, then turned and pulled a torn pair of black stockings from the corner of the sofa. She shoved them in Julian’s face: “Is this also a business dinner? Julian, do business dinners require you to take off stockings? Were you having a ‘business dinner’ in bed?” “Kate—” Julian’s face darkened. He didn’t like being scrutinized by women. Besides, they had been broken up at that time. Was it a crime to see other women? Kate saw his annoyed expression, and her eyes began to redden. She silently threw down the stockings, grabbed her bag, and turned to leave. But Julian caught her arm. His voice softened as he called her: “Kate.” Tears immediately welled up in Kate’s eyes. Julian pulled her into a tight hug, resting his chin on her head, and gently coaxed: “Hubby was wrong, okay?” “I missed you too much, and I was drunk, so I mistook another woman for you.” “Kate, you know you’re the only one in my heart.” Kate cried out, her eyes red: “You men are all scoundrels, eating from the bowl while eyeing the pot!” “Breaking up and immediately looking for the next one.” Julian patted her back, soothing her for a long time. His words were full of endearments, calling her his dearest love and his only one, but his mind was elsewhere. He suddenly found himself missing Chloe’s good qualities. Chloe was so sensible; she never demanded to be coaxed, she was incredibly well-behaved. If he said one, she would never argue two. When he flirted outside, Chloe never questioned him. Unlike Kate, Kate was so delicate. She had to make a huge scene, then force him to humble himself and coax her. Julian suddenly felt a pang of sympathy for Chloe’s obedience. She hadn’t argued or made a fuss when he dumped her, hadn’t dared to ask a single question. No temper at all. He wondered if she was secretly crying in her bed after he left. 3 I was indeed crying. Crying tears of pure bliss. Brent’s body, it hadn’t stopped moving since. I had to admit, an eighteen-year-old young wolf was something else. His technique might be green, but his stamina was first-rate. After just a couple of adjustments, I was already struggling to keep up. Another round ended. I was utterly spent, collapsing into the bedding, completely motionless. Brent climbed on top of me again, biting my earlobe, his voice suggestive: “Sister… I want more.” I let out a long sigh, for the first time feeling like I wanted to surrender. … I didn’t expect to run into Julian again. That day, I went to a specialty lingerie shop I frequented. Lingerie, like men, should be changed often, kept fresh. Just like now, I’m into Brent, the young wolf, so I’m wearing black lace, sexy lingerie. Before, when it was Julian, who preferred Kate’s fiery personality, I would wear light green, fresh, girlish sets. I picked out a few styles, and as the sales assistant was packing them, I turned my head and came face to face with Julian. I froze for a moment, then realized. He must be with Kate Charleson. After all, in the three months we were together, he had never accompanied me to a place like a lingerie store. Julian saw me, and for a moment, his eyes showed surprise. I couldn’t tell if it was delight or nervousness. He walked towards me, his hand naturally finding my waist. He smirked: “What, missing me? You actually followed me to a place like this.” I immediately realized he misunderstood, and uncomfortably pulled away: “Mr. Rubinstein, I’m sorry, I just came to buy some essentials.” “You’re mistaken.” But his eyes grew more intrigued: “Chloe, a few days apart, and you’ve learned to play hard to get? But I really have been thinking about you.” His gaze dropped to the lingerie bag the assistant had packed for me, and he smirked: “Black is nice. A change of style now and then, I quite like it.” He leaned in close to my ear: “Be a good girl, I’ll come find you soon.” A shiver of disgust ran down my spine. I don’t have a habit of being the other woman, nor do I like men who juggle two relationships. Julian was crossing a line. I was about to speak when the fitting room door opened, and Kate Charleson emerged. Seeing Julian and me, her face immediately changed. She strode over. Without a word, she slapped me across the face. I was caught off guard, my mind reeling. Kate’s chest heaved violently, and she pointed a finger at my nose, screaming: “You’re the other woman, aren’t you? Shameless hussy, taking advantage of me being away to seduce my boyfriend!” Everyone’s eyes turned, converging on me, whispering and pointing. Blood rushed to my head. No matter how good my temper was, I wasn’t going to take that slap for nothing. I immediately raised my arm, ready to strike back. Before I could touch her, my arm was grabbed. It was Julian. His gaze became suddenly cold and disgusted. He shoved me hard, and I crashed into the corner of a display cabinet. A sharp pain shot through my lower back, making me gasp. Julian said coldly: “What do you think you’re doing? You dare to lay a hand on my girlfriend right in front of me? Chloe, you’ve gotten bold.” Kate was pleased with his reaction. But she wasn’t done with me. “Julian, who exactly is this woman? Why is she following you here? What is your relationship with her?!” Julian didn’t even glance at me: “Just some trashy girl, clung to me after one night out, climbed into my bed. She wouldn’t give up after I dumped her, kept tracking me down. We were just messing around.” “Kate, you know, you’re the only one in my heart.” I scoffed: “Julian, are you out of your mind? You just open your mouth and start spreading rumors about me, do you?” “And you,” I turned to Kate, “Please use your brain before you speak.” “Being the other woman means stealing a man, and he’s, at most, a second-hand item I picked up for a bit of fun. That’s all.” “Miss Charleson.” I looked at her coldly. “Spreading rumors carries legal consequences, you know.” “Also,” I pointed to the security camera, “I’ll be reserving my right to sue for that slap you gave me today. I hope you’ll act accordingly.” With that, I grabbed my things and walked out. Less than a minute later, my phone lit up with a text message. I opened it. It was from Julian.

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There was a silent secret in my marriage to Daryl Pierce: he was deathly allergic to human hair. For him, I shaved my head for three years. I was once a principal dancer, yet I spent my days bald, scrubbing floors and managing his home. Until yesterday. I walked into his study and saw him tenderly pluck a gray hair from the scalp of his brother’s widow, Bella. The pure love in his eyes turned all my sacrifices into a humiliating joke. The next evening, Daryl hosted a dinner to celebrate his upcoming promotion to CEO. I didn’t cry or scream. I walked into the kitchen, grabbed three live chickens, and slammed them onto the dining table. “Since you love plucking so much, have a field day tonight.” I stared into his eyes. “If you have a reaction, I’ll drive you to the ER. If not, our marriage is over.” Before Daryl could speak, Bella rushed forward, tears in her eyes. “He’s about to be CEO! How could you, a housewife, make him pluck chickens in front of colleagues? Are you trying to humiliate him?” I laughed. “Do you hurt for him that much? Then grab a bird and help.” Bella’s face flushed purple. She bit her lip and ran out sobbing. Instinctively, Daryl shoved his chair back and chased after her without a glance at me. I stood still in the dining room, a bitter smile on my lips. It seemed I had completely lost that three-year bet with my father. 1 The guests exchanged incredibly awkward glances before quietly excusing themselves one by one. Daryl finally paused near the doorway, suddenly remembering I still existed. He turned around. Seeing my bloodshot eyes, he let out a soft sigh and walked over, gently picking a stray chicken feather off my shoulder. “Alright, stop throwing a tantrum.” I instinctively recoiled from his touch. My gaze shifted to the full-length mirror in the hallway. Just because he frowned on our wedding night and whispered that he had a severe follicle allergy. I was the star of my dance company. And I turned myself into this bald, pathetic shell of a woman for him. “Why?” I heard my own voice trembling violently. Daryl sat down on the sofa, not even blinking. “Bella was deeply insecure. You had that beautiful, flowing hair, and she was already finding grey strands. She actually threatened to end her own life over it.” “I had no choice but to invent an allergy to coax you into shaving your head.” “Besides, it’s not like I find you ugly. Why do you care so much about such a trivial detail?” “Be a good girl, Cici. I just care for Bella the way any man would care for family.” As he spoke, he casually grabbed the loose chickens and tossed them back into their cages. A harsh, breathless laugh ripped from my throat. I reached behind my back, pulled out a small vintage tin box, and hurled it forcefully at his chest. “Family? You collect and lock away her plucked grey hairs like they are precious diamonds. Is that how you treat family?!” Daryl’s face drained of color. He crouched on the floor, picking up the scattered hairs, his eyes flashing with intense irritation as he looked up at me. “Who gave you permission to go into my private safe?” His knuckles turned stark white. “Every single grey hair on Bella’s head is a testament to what she sacrificed for this family!” The sheer guilt masking his anger felt like a physical knife twisting in my chest. Suddenly, Daryl let out a cruel scoff. “I definitely made the right choice giving the baby to Bella. If I had left him with you? You would have ruined him.” I froze completely. It felt like someone had poured cement down my throat. “What baby?” Two years ago, my first child died from asphyxiation during a premature labor. I cried until the blood vessels in my eyes burst. It was Daryl who held me in the hospital bed, whispering over and over that we were still young and we would try again. But right now, sitting casually on our living room sofa, he dropped a bomb that shattered my reality. “Bella’s posthumous baby died hours after birth. I was terrified the grief would kill her. So I paid the doctor to slip you a labor-inducing drug. When your son was born premature, I handed him straight to Bella to raise.” “She has been raising your flesh and blood for years. You should be down on your knees thanking her.” Thanking her? Thanking them for practically blinding me with grief? When my hand swung down and slapped him across the face, he didn’t even try to dodge. He just rolled his jaw, reached out, and rested his hand against my pregnant belly. “Got it out of your system?” “If you hate it that much, I’ll burn the tin box later. You are about to be a mother again, you really need to control your temper.” “I was the one who gave the boy to her. If you want to hate someone, hate me.” I grabbed a heavy glass water tumbler from the table and smashed it directly against his forehead. “So is this pregnancy supposed to be my sick compensation?!” Blood immediately trickled down his temple, but he just calmly wiped away a tear that had fallen down my cheek. “No,” he said softly. Before my racing heart could even process that, he delivered the final blow with absolute entitlement. “Bella decided she wants a little girl.” Dead silence swallowed the room. The only sound was my own ragged, hyperventilating gasps. I pointed a shaking finger at the front door. “Get out!” Daryl casually wiped the blood from his brow and let out a dark chuckle. “Cici, you cut ties with your wealthy family years ago.” “You have absolutely nowhere to go. Be a good girl, play your part, and you will always hold the title of Mrs. Pierce.” “I promise you, when this baby is born, I’ll let you be her godmother.” He leaned over, picked up the silk shawl Bella had left behind, making sure not to get a single drop of his blood on it. He walked out the door without looking back. I stood barefoot among the scattered chicken feathers, laughing hysterically as tears poured down my face. I picked up my phone and dialed the number of my father, the notorious casino tycoon I hadn’t spoken to in three years. “Dad. I lost the three-year bet.” “I’m ready to come home.” The second I hung up, my phone vibrated in my palm. Daryl’s voice came through the speaker, dripping with suppressed rage. “Cici, look at what you’ve done! Bella passed out from the stress you caused. Get over here right now!” My hands were violently shaking when I pushed open the door to Bella’s residence. It was the house my biological son had lived in for five years. This was the very first time Daryl had ever allowed me inside. The moment my hand left the doorknob, a blinding, excruciating pain ripped across my scalp. My five-year-old son, Liam, stood right in front of me. He was gripping the wig I had worn specifically so I wouldn’t scare him, laughing so hard he was doubling over. “Look at the bald freak! That’s what you get for bullying my mommy!” My fingertips trembled as I reached out to touch his cheek. This was the boy I carried for nine months. The boy who was stolen from me before I could even hold him. “But… I am your real mother.” He froze for a fraction of a second, then shoved me backward with all his might. “You? Your hands smell like bleach and toilet water. I would rather die than have you as a mom!” Every single word he spat felt like a rusty nail driven straight into my heart. “You’re just a dirty maid! Don’t you ever call me your son!” I turned my head, looking at Daryl as he walked out of the bedroom with one final, desperate plea in my eyes. He didn’t even blink. For three years, I had completely abandoned my stage career to take care of his paralyzed mother. I wiped her down, fed her, turned her in bed to prevent sores. My hands were permanently stained with the harsh smell of medical disinfectants. I gave up the spotlight. I gave up the applause. And he refused to say a single word in my defense in front of my own flesh and blood. Bella walked out of the bedroom, clutching a pair of sharp scissors, pressing the blades against her long, flowing hair. Large, dramatic tears spilled onto the hardwood floor as her voice wavered. “Cici, I will cut my hair right now to keep you company! I am so sorry! Just please, I beg you, stop hurting my child!” She made a massive, theatrical sweeping motion, but the scissors didn’t snip a single strand of hair. I pushed myself up from the floor, a deeply cynical smirk pulling at my lips. “Don’t know how to use them?” “Let me help you.” Before the words fully left my mouth, a heavy slap cracked across my cheek. The sharp metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth. Daryl stared at me, his eyes radiating pure ice. “That is enough! Are you insane? How could you try to force her to take a blade to her own hair! Look at you. No wonder Liam hates your guts.” “We are going to the boutique to pick out her birthday present. You stay here and reflect on your disgusting behavior.” Bella crouched down and gently slipped Liam’s designer shoes onto his feet, her movements practiced and tender. Daryl grabbed his tailored coat and naturally reached out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind Bella’s ear. The two of them moved perfectly in sync, like they had done this a million times before. The living room fell dead silent. The nanny stood in the corner, holding a mop. She picked up my wig and tossed it straight into the trash can. “Mr. Pierce treats his brother’s widow like absolute royalty. He pays me top dollar to look after them. You are so lucky to have a husband who values family loyalty so much, ma’am.” I leaned heavily against the wall, forcing myself to stand up straight. Daryl had claimed it was love at first sight when he saw me dance at a charity gala. But my father, a ruthless billionaire, saw right through him. He forced me into a bet. “If your marriage survives three years without a hitch, I will throw the full weight of my empire behind him.” “If not, you come back to New York and marry the man I choose.” The nanny’s voice broke through my thoughts. “Mr. Pierce told me to relay a message. Tomorrow is Bella’s birthday banquet. He expects you to show up and publicly apologize.” “If you do, he will graciously allow you to be the godmother of the baby you’re carrying.” I let out a dark chuckle. I was just about to tell her to go to hell when my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was Bella. Her voice dripped with a sickeningly sweet, breathless tone. “Cici, we are officially even.” “What?” “You threw a fit because he plucked my grey hairs. So I returned the favor and gave him a full wax down there.” She paused, lowering her voice into a filthy whisper. “I even had him tattoo my name right above it. Think of it as my little gift to you.” “Every time he gets excited, it is quite the thrill.” “We owe each other nothing now.” My hands shook violently. I pulled the phone away from my ear just as a text message popped up from my father. “My private jet will be there in three days.” “Tie up your loose ends.” I took a deep, shuddering breath and looked at the nanny. “Fine. Tell him I’ll be there.” “And tell him I’m bringing a very special gift.” The night of the birthday banquet arrived. When I walked into the grand ballroom, the socialites immediately judged my faded, outdated dress. Then their eyes drifted to Bella, who was glowing in a custom emerald-green gown. “Bella is so incredibly blessed. Her husband died, but she has a fiercely loyal brother-in-law to protect her.” “She is a saint, really. Cici is just a barren, ugly housewife. Bella practically carries that entire family on her back.” Daryl suddenly materialized beside me, his brow deeply furrowed. He reached out to grab my arm. “Don’t listen to their gossip.” I smoothly slipped my arm out of his grasp, looking down to unfold the piece of paper he had aggressively shoved into my palm. [My pregnancy hormones have been making me unstable. I was completely out of line to disrespect Bella. I am deeply sorry.] I ripped the paper into tiny pieces and let out a loud, piercing laugh. “Why on earth would I apologize to a homewrecker?” The entire ballroom went dead silent. Dozens of eyes snapped toward us. I reached into my purse and pulled out the vintage tin box. Daryl’s face morphed into absolute panic. “My husband tenderly plucks grey hairs from Bella’s head and locks them in his private safe!” “She stole my biological son, she sleeps with my husband, and she expects me to apologize?!” The ballroom exploded into chaotic whispers. “What is going on? Is he keeping a harem under one roof?” “Is he sleeping with his dead brother’s wife?!” Bella froze for a fraction of a second before a strange, calculated smile crept onto her lips. The side doors of the banquet hall suddenly swung open. My paralyzed mother-in-law was pushed out in her wheelchair, tears streaming down her wrinkled face. “Cici, how could you pluck my hair to frame poor Bella! Do you have no conscience at all?!” I stared at her, completely blindsided. “Mom, what are you talking about? You know exactly who I am!” The old woman trembling rolled up her sleeves, revealing dark, ugly bruises all over her frail arms. “Ever since this vicious woman lost her first baby, she has been wildly jealous of Bella! She has spent years trying to drive Bella out of this family!” She gasped for air, crying hysterically. “Last week, she forced me to let her pluck my white hairs! She told me I only got half a bowl of rice for every hair she pulled!” I stood rooted to the spot, my mind completely blank. Bella stepped forward, her voice breaking with practiced sorrow. “Cici, I am just a grieving widow. Why must you torture us like this? We are a respectable family. How is Daryl supposed to show his face in the corporate world after this?” “I will pack my bags and leave with my son tonight. I will sell my own blood if I have to, but I will raise my boy on my own!” Daryl raised his hands, desperately wanting to pull her into a hug, but forced himself to hold back in front of the crowd. He clenched his fists until his knuckles cracked. “Bella, this is your home. Absolutely no one is kicking you out.” The old woman in the wheelchair wailed loudly. “Exactly! Bella will control the family finances from now on!” My fingernails dug so hard into my palms that blood began to drip onto the marble floor. My voice was raw and hoarse. “Mom. Why are you doing this to me?” Bella leaned in close, her lips brushing against my ear. “Because, you stupid bitch—Daryl’s real mother died a decade ago!” “The paralyzed old hag you’ve been wiping down for three years is MY biological mother!” The room spun. It felt like someone had shattered my spine. Daryl grabbed my arm to keep me from collapsing, a fleeting look of guilt crossing his eyes. “I couldn’t trust a nurse to care for her. You did an excellent job these past few years. I appreciate your hard work.” Suddenly, a glass of red wine shattered against my shoulder, the dark liquid soaking my clothes like blood. Someone in the crowd yelled. “No wonder she looks so ugly! Her outside matches her rotten inside!” “What kind of monster abuses a paralyzed old woman and a helpless widow?!” Daryl opened his mouth, but Bella suddenly clutched her chest and let out a weak gasp. “My heart… it’s palpitating.” Daryl looked at me, hesitating for only a second. “Stay here and learn some grace.” “My promotion to CEO is already in motion. Consider this your lesson in humility.” “I’ll have my driver pick you up later.” He turned his back on me, gently wrapping his arm around Bella while pushing the wheelchair out of the hall. He left me alone to face the furious, judging crowd. I don’t know how long I was pushed and shoved. A heavy, warm cramp gripped my lower stomach. I felt a horrifying rush of fluid soaking my inner thighs. By the time I dragged myself out of a taxi and stumbled into the emergency room, I still hadn’t received a single text from Daryl. The line at the registration desk was massive. I leaned heavily against the tiled wall, dragging my feet forward inch by inch. I desperately grabbed a passing nurse, shoving my marriage certificate into her hands, my lips trembling violently. “Please… I am Daryl Pierce’s wife… please, you have to help me…” Before I could finish, another agonizing cramp hit, and more fluid rushed down my legs. Seeing my deathly pale face, the young nurse quickly helped me into a plastic chair. “Hold on, ma’am. I’ll get you registered right now.” I leaned my head back, gasping for air. No matter how evil Daryl was, the baby inside me was completely innocent. But a second later, someone violently yanked me out of the chair by my arm. “This is a respectable hospital! We don’t treat lying trash!” The young nurse was glaring at me with absolute disgust. In her hand, my marriage certificate was ripped perfectly in half. Another nurse sneered from behind the desk. “God knows whose bastard she’s carrying. She literally brought a forged marriage certificate to skip the line and pretend to be Mr. Pierce’s family!” My blood ran completely cold. The marriage certificate was a fake. Daryl had lied to me about the very legal foundation of our relationship. I lowered my head, the humiliation burning my throat. “Then… I’ll just pay normally.” I handed over my debit card. The nurse snatched it, swiped it through the machine, and let out a loud, mocking laugh. “Are you kidding me? The card is declined. You don’t have a single dollar to your name, and you’re trying to give birth in a private hospital? Maybe think about that before you open your legs.” That was the card Daryl used to transfer my monthly household allowance. How could it be empty? My throat seized. My phone buzzed in my hand. It was Daryl. “From now on, every single dollar you spend requires Bella’s written approval.” “Consider this your punishment.” I started shaking uncontrollably. “But the baby…” He hung up. The younger nurse finally looked at me with a shred of pity. “Did your sugar daddy cut you off? Check your purse, maybe you have something worth selling.” My eyes landed on the designer handbag Daryl had bought me for our first anniversary. “This… this is a limited edition imported bag. It has to be worth something.” The nurse took it, inspected the leather, and smirked. “Lady, are you blind? The paint is peeling off the corners. It’s a cheap knockoff.” I laughed until I tasted blood. I wasn’t just blind. I was completely, utterly braindead. A crushing, world-ending pain ripped through my abdomen. I lay on the cold hospital floor, feeling the life of my child slowly slipping away into nothingness. When I finally dragged my broken body back to the house in the dead of night, the living room lights were blinding. Daryl walked over and handed me a steaming bowl of chicken broth. “I was just about to send the driver for you. Glad you made it back.” “Bella specifically brewed this to help you recover. Drink it.” I stared at the oily broth. A violent wave of nausea hit me. I violently retched, vomiting stomach acid all over Daryl’s expensive shoes. His face instantly darkened into a scowl. “Forget about being the godmother. When this baby is born, I am handing it straight to Bella.” Bella quickly walked over, gripping my arm tightly to support me. “Cici, please don’t be like this. Daryl is just looking out for you. I stood over the stove for hours making this broth. Just take one sip—” Where Daryl couldn’t see, her manicured nails dug viciously into the bruised flesh of my arm. The pain made me gasp. Bella leaned in, lowering her voice to a venomous whisper. “You better make sure this baby survives. You know why your son is so frail? It’s not because he was premature. It’s because I’ve been slipping low-dose poison into his food for years.” “He isn’t going to live much longer. So you better push out a healthy little girl for me to play with.” “Why should my husband die while you get to play happy family? Why am I infertile while you get to breed?!” I shook violently, raising my hand. I had only one thought in my mind. I was going to rip this woman’s throat out. But before my hand could fall, a sudden, brutal force slammed into my stomach. I crashed onto the hardwood floor, screaming in agony. Liam stood over me, clutching a heavy, sharp-edged bronze bookend. He looked up at Bella, practically begging for praise. “Mommy, I smashed the bald freak in the stomach! I got revenge for you!” “I promised Uncle Daryl I would protect you with my life!” Daryl lunged forward, grabbing his son to pull him back, then turned and delivered a brutal kick to my ribs, sending me crashing against the sharp corner of the glass coffee table. I curled into a tight ball, paralyzed by the blinding pain. “You absolute lunatic! You are tearing this house apart!” He turned to his assistant hovering by the door. “Throw her in the psychiatric ward. Tell them to sedate her so she can cool off.” “I’ve been way too soft on her. She is about to be the wife of a CEO, she needs to learn how to behave!” I lay on the floor, bleeding out, watching their perfect little family of three stand together. I laughed until bloody tears stained the floor. Later that night, Daryl sat in his pristine study, feeling a strange, creeping sense of anxiety. He picked up his phone to order his assistant to add some extra amenities to my hospital room. Before he could dial, his phone rang. It was Arthur, the Head of HR for the corporate group. “Daryl, the board just finalized your transfer orders.” Daryl sat up straight. “Which regional branch am I taking over?” “I’ll need to arrange for a medical transport for Cici. She’s pregnant, she’ll need to travel comfortably.” Arthur stammered awkwardly. “It’s… it’s a new position.” Arthur took a deep breath. “You’re being transferred to the agricultural subsidiary…” “You start tomorrow at the poultry processing plant. Plucking chickens.”

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I sat in a forgotten corner of the room, cradling a bowl of soup, a silent observer to the symphony of laughter that filled the air. They were all chattering away in fluent French, toasting to Isabelle and Jasper’s future wedding. No one even glanced at me, her actual boyfriend, hidden in the shadows. I’d secretly poured years into mastering four languages, all for this—to finally fit in. But it was a fool’s errand. The PhDs and art scholars, all back from their stints abroad, looked at me with the barely-veiled condescension they reserved for someone with a community college education. Isabelle, ever the picture of grace, just smiled. She neither confirmed nor denied the talk of wedding dates, accepting their blessings with a placid elegance. I set my bowl down, the soup untouched. Standing up, I walked out of the room and pulled out my phone. “Anna,” I said when she picked up. “Set me up on one of those blind dates back home. I’m done.” 1 After ending the call with my sister, I booked a red-eye flight back to Paris. It was two a.m. and the apartment was dark. Isabelle still wasn’t home. A news alert lit up my phone screen. The renowned philanthropist Arthur Lockwood Sr. had passed away, with half of his massive estate being donated to charity. The comments section was flooded with messages of grief for the business mogul who had given so much back. My father. A lump formed in my throat, my vision blurring with tears as I remembered the last time I saw him. I’d been too late. By the time I rushed to the hospital, he was gone. “His heart was always weak, you know that,” my sister Anna had told me, her own eyes red-rimmed with a grief laced with guilt. “But he was too proud. He hid it from everyone.” She choked back a sob. “He was so disappointed… that he didn’t get to see you one last time. That he never saw you settle down.” I hung my head, a tidal wave of shame and regret crashing over me. “Luke,” she said softly, “I know this is hard, but it’s the Lockwood legacy. Dad always said you were the most gifted of us all. He was heartbroken when you left for Paris, but now… you’re the only one who can…” Her voice trailed off. “Just think about it, Luke. Please.” My father had two final wishes: for me to take the reins of the family empire, and to see me build a family of my own. I had begged Isabelle to come home with me, just once, so my father could pass on with peace of mind. “Isabelle, please, just this once…” But she had already been pulling on her coat, her expression cold. “Luke, there’s a time and place for your drama! Jasper is drunk and it’s freezing outside. He’s all alone!” She ripped her hand from my grasp and slammed the door behind her. But Jasper wasn’t alone. He had Cassie, their mutual best friend of many years, right there with him. Later that night, I saw Cassie’s new post. A picture of Jasper, looking wistfully into the distance. The caption read: Some loves will cross any distance. Makes a single girl like me so incredibly jealous! In that moment, the last of my denial crumbled. I was done making excuses for her. I was done, period. I booked my return flight and started packing. The click of the lock broke the silence. Isabelle stepped inside, elegant as ever in a black trench coat. “You’re back?” she asked, a little surprised. “Why are you still up?” Her eyes narrowed, taking in the boxes around me. “Just packing up some extra stuff to ship home,” I lied smoothly. She nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Well, it’s late. You should get some rest. I can finish this last bit.” No interrogation. No suspicion. My quiet compliance was so out of character that a small frown creased her brow. Just then, her phone shattered the quiet. Jasper’s drunken, sobbing voice crackled through the speaker. “Isabelle… can you come? Please… I don’t think… I don’t think I can make it through the night.” Her voice instantly softened into a gentle, soothing tone I had rarely heard directed at me. “You just stay put, okay? I’m always here for you. Don’t be scared.” She hung up and turned to me, her expression a mask of apology. “It’s his depression, Luke. He’s been drinking…” “You know how it is when an episode hits,” she continued, her voice heavy with meaning. “Someone has to be there, or else…” “I know,” I cut her off, my voice flat. Isabelle flinched, instinctively tugging down the sleeve of her coat to cover the faint, silvery scars on her wrist. Oh, yes. How could I forget? When her own depression had pulled her into the abyss, I was the one who held her, who weathered the storms, who painstakingly guided her back to the light. “You know,” she began, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes, “you asked me about coming home with you. After my competition abroad, I should have some free time.” She looked at my calm face, and a strange sense of panic seemed to well up inside her. “And… I’m ready to tell my friends about us. To make it official.” I just nodded. I had waited years to hear those words, for her to finally acknowledge me. And now, they came only when I was already walking out the door. This whole mess needed a clean ending. This could be it—a final, formal farewell to the years we’d spent in this limbo. “Luke… why are you dressed like that?” “Is there a problem?” I asked, my gaze level. “No… it’s just… that coat looks incredible on you.” She seemed dazed. In front of her friends, I had always worn stiff, formal suits, earning me their snide remarks about looking like an insurance salesman. Perhaps from staying up all night with Jasper, Isabelle looked exhausted, and a deep, genuine apology was etched on her face. “That brand… it really suits you,” she said. “We should buy you a few more when we get back.” “Sure,” I replied, my voice devoid of emotion. Something about me had changed, and she could feel it, even if she couldn’t name it. Jasper and his friends were already waiting by the door to the private room, their faces wreathed in smiles for Isabelle. Once we were all seated, the conversation took off, a whirlwind of artistic theory, cultural critiques, and emotional expression. Inevitably, it circled back to Isabelle and Jasper. “Jasper has waited so many years for you,” Cassie said, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she looked at Isabelle. “You two were always the golden couple in our eyes.” “A true match made in heaven,” another chimed in. Jasper sighed dramatically. “Isabelle… already has a boyfriend. It seems I was too late.” “Not at all!” Cassie jumped in. “We all know who she really cares about.” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, loud enough for the table to hear. “The guy she’s with is just a cheap knock-off. He’s not one of us.” “Cassie, isn’t that a bit harsh?” someone cautioned. “It’s the truth!” she retorted. “Everyone knows Isabelle was crazy about Jasper. She would have done anything for him… If Luke hadn’t swooped in when she was vulnerable, they’d be back together by now. She’s never forgotten Jasper. Luke is just a placeholder, a substitute.” She leaned in, her eyes gleaming. “You’ll see. He’s a total copycat. He even dresses like Jasper, pretends to like the same things.” But when I walked in, a hush fell over the room. The man standing before them was not the awkward imitation they’d imagined. He was composed, handsome, with a quiet confidence that was the polar opposite of Jasper’s curated, brooding artist persona. The atmosphere thickened with an awkward silence. I simply smiled at the stunned faces and offered a polite greeting. Someone muttered under their breath, “He looks nothing like him.” Jasper recovered first, his smile fixed as he walked to Isabelle’s side. “Isabelle, congratulations on winning the Top Artist prize again. Won’t you tell us about your masterpiece?” He pointedly ignored me, drawing Isabelle and the others into a lively discussion. She spoke of her inspiration, of her journey over the years, and with every word, Jasper was there to build on her thoughts, to finish her sentences. They were a perfect duet, a symphony of shared understanding. A true power couple. Then, Cassie switched to French. “So, when’s the wedding?” All eyes turned to me, a sea of knowing smirks. The conversation continued, a fluid stream of French that was meant to exclude me. Jasper graciously accepted their congratulations, and when I glanced at Isabelle, she said nothing to correct them. She let them believe it. I sighed and quietly excused myself from the table. Cassie shot me a look of pure contempt. The community college guy wouldn’t understand a word of French, she thought. But she didn’t know. To break into her world, to understand the woman I loved, I had taught myself four languages. This wasn’t a challenge. It was a confirmation. Listening to the renewed burst of laughter from inside the private room, I dialed the number in my phone. “Anna, I’m in. I’ll come back and take over everything.” This is a premium chapter. Unlock to continue reading. The joy in my sister’s voice was unmistakable. “Luke, I’m so glad to hear you say that. Mom and I have been hoping… you were always Dad’s pride and joy, you know.” Her voice softened. “Whatever happens, we just want you to be happy.” At last, her wandering brother had found his way home. “I’ll need a month, though,” I said. “I have to wrap things up here.” “And your girlfriend?” Anna asked, a note of caution in her voice. “Is she coming with you?” The mention of Isabelle sent a pang through my chest. “Anna,” I said, my voice heavy. “We’re breaking up.” “I’m going to take Dad’s legacy and build it into something even greater. I won’t let it die with our generation.” My sister sighed on the other end of the line. “Luke, she wouldn’t even come home with you to see Dad one last time. A woman like that… you’re better off without her. When you get back, we’ll find you someone worthy of you.” Her voice was fierce with love. “If you’re hurting, you come home. You’ll always be a Morgan, kid.” “Thanks, Anna.” I fought back the tears. No matter what, my family would always be my anchor. Back at the table, Isabelle’s eyes kept darting to my empty chair. A strange anxiety began to gnaw at her. What was wrong with Luke? Ever since he’d come back from his trip, he hadn’t clung to her, hadn’t argued with her. His silence, his easy-going nature… it was more unsettling than his most demanding tantrums. Agitated, Isabelle started drinking, downing one glass of wine after another. When I returned to the room, she was completely drunk. I moved to help her up, but she shoved me away with surprising strength. “I don’t wanna go home!” she slurred, her eyes finding Jasper across the room. “Jasper… why did you leave me? Don’t go, Jasper… don’t leave me again.” She clung to him like a lost child, her eyes glistening with tears. The rest of the table suddenly found their shoes very interesting, a collective wave of awkwardness washing over them. Jasper shot me a look of triumphant pity. “Mr. Lockwood, my apologies,” he said, his voice oozing false concern. “Isabelle seems to be in a state… I’m afraid…” “Then I’ll leave her in your care, Mr. Chambers,” I said, my tone perfectly even as I stepped back. “Luke, are you even a man?” Cassie spat, her eyes blazing with fury. “You’re her best friend, aren’t you?” I replied coolly, my gaze falling on Isabelle, who was still clinging to Jasper for dear life. Without another word, I turned and walked away. The farewell dinner was over. Back at the apartment, I moved with cold efficiency, erasing every trace of our life together. After a moment’s hesitation, I opened the door to her studio. The room was filled with stacks of sketches, countless studies of a woman’s silhouette. With a heavy sigh, I sat down at the easel and dug out a faded, time-worn sketch from the bottom of a portfolio. It was the one I had drawn the day I first met Isabelle, a quick impression I’d accidentally dropped as I left. She had found it, kept it. It had become the wellspring of her inspiration. I picked up a piece of charcoal, and with a final, steady stroke, I finished the drawing, adding the depth and color it had lacked for all these years.

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1 The week my phone nearly vibrated itself into oblivion, I was at a competitor’s office, getting up to speed on their operations. This whole mess started with my company’s absurd new policy. They took six years of my work data—every client interaction, every successful pitch, every closed deal—and fed it to an AI to create my “digital twin.” From that day on, my digital twin handled all online tasks. I, the original, was relegated to offline schmoozing, wining and dining clients. Last month, I closed a massive seven-figure deal. Under the old system, my commission should have been at least ten thousand dollars. But when I got my pay stub, the number made my head spin: $960. I stormed into the finance department, convinced there had been a mistake. The finance director didn’t even bother to look up. She glanced at the paper, tossed it back at me, and said in a voice as cold as ice, “There’s no mistake. New company policy. Your digital twin closed the deal online. It gets ninety percent of the commission. You get ten.” She then added, with a syrupy, condescending smile, “You just have a few drinks with clients every now and then. Pulling in almost a grand a month for that? What’s there to be unhappy about?” I was the one who had brought in over seventy percent of the company’s revenue. And she had the audacity to call me lazy. I quit on the spot. And I took the two-million-dollar deal that was on the verge of being signed with me. My next stop was their biggest competitor. … I’d been chasing that million-dollar contract with Apex Corp. for half a year. I remembered sitting at the dinner table with their CEO, Mr. Carter, when he clapped me on the shoulder and said, “Sophie, if it were anyone else handling this, I wouldn’t sign.” But just because the final contract link was sent by my digital twin, it got ninety percent of the credit? My $10,000 commission shrank to a pathetic $960? “What, you think that’s too little?” Seeing my dissatisfaction, Vivian, the finance director, scowled. “I just explained it to you, didn’t I?” she snapped. “From the initial contact and needs assessment to the final contract negotiation, your digital twin handled everything. All you did was meet Mr. Carter a few times and treat him to a few meals on the company’s dime. You should be grateful you’re getting nine hundred bucks at all!” Vivian was the CEO Mark’s sister-in-law, parachuted into the company as CFO three months ago. Her first order of business was a brutal cost-cutting and efficiency initiative, which led to the rollout of the AI digital twins. It started small. They fed all the code written by a few of their programmers into an AI, creating digital versions of them. Then, they “optimized” the human programmers—by firing them—and had the AI write the code. When that proved successful, saving them a few salaries, the floodgates opened. Now, most of the company’s backend developers and customer service reps were gone. All that remained were a few fresh-faced college grads to handle basic maintenance. The once-bustling office floor was now a ghost town of empty desks. My former colleagues were gone, but their digital twins remained, tirelessly working for the company. As a frontline sales rep, I was feeling the pain most acutely. I had spent years building a rapport with our tech team. I could give them a vague description, and they’d instantly grasp what I needed. Now, I was dealing with AI counterparts that couldn’t understand plain English. The demos they produced for clients weren’t just a little off; they were completely irrelevant. My workload skyrocketed. I was spending every waking moment micromanaging these digital morons, constantly correcting their work. I complained to Mark. He just smiled his usual placid smile. “Sophie, AI is the future. As a tech company, we have to be on the cutting edge. There are always going to be some growing pains. You’ll get used to it.” He even tried to reassure me. “Don’t worry, we’re monitoring the situation. The issues you’ve raised will be resolved soon.” I never imagined his solution would be to distill me into a digital twin and have it interface with the tech twins. 2 Now the problem started at the source. On top of my usual client management, I spent every remaining second of my day chasing down project updates and cleaning up the messes made by the digital twins. But in Vivian’s eyes, I was just slacking off, enjoying lavish meals on the company’s dime and still expecting a $960 cut. As if I’d won the lottery. “What, am I wrong?!” she sneered. “The company invested money and resources to build you this digital twin to handle client communication. Do you have any idea how much work that saves you? And instead of being grateful for the company’s investment, you have the nerve to complain that we’re not paying you enough! You think we owe you something?” She was warming up now. “Go on, ask around. Find me one other salesperson who makes nearly a grand a month just for having a few dinners. You’re just pulling rank because you’ve been here a while.” Her voice rose with every word. “Honestly, clients sign with us because of the strength of our products. You really think it’s all because of you? Anyone could do what you do now. I could hire a fresh college grad—prettier, younger, more obedient, and a hell of a lot cheaper. Take the money or get out!” Six years. I had given six years of my life to CloudForge. I was the top seller for four consecutive years. Many of my clients were people I had cultivated since my very first day. If Vivian had ever spent a single day in sales, she would never have said something so ignorant. She thought our products were so good that clients would just line up to sign? She never stopped to consider why, among dozens of similar companies, they chose CloudForge. My clients weren’t loyal to the product; they were loyal to me, Sophie. She had no idea the lengths I went to for them. It wasn’t just about being on call 24/7 for project updates. It was about helping them when their parents were sick, picking up their kids from school, giving them advice on home renovations, even feeding their pets when they were out of town. If they called, I was there, no questions asked. Holidays, birthdays, weddings, funerals—I showed up for all of it. My clients were my friends. Our relationship went far beyond a simple business transaction. But in Vivian’s world, none of that mattered. Honestly, I had been thinking about leaving ever since they “optimized” the tech team. I only stayed out of a sense of loyalty. But if she really thought anyone could do my job, then fine. Let her try. “So, the company is firing me?” Seeing that I understood, Vivian nodded without hesitation. “That’s right. We have no place for ungrateful employees who have no sense of discipline and can’t even be bothered to clock in.” 3 I laughed to myself. I’m in sales. If I sat in the office clocking in and out every day, where the hell did she think all their contracts came from? “Fine. Then please provide me with a written termination notice. According to labor laws, since the company is terminating my employment, you’re required to pay N+1 severance. I’ve been here for six years. I’ll leave as soon as the payment is processed.” “Severance?” Vivian took a long, noisy sip of her bubble tea and looked at me as if I were a joke. “Why should you get severance? You’re the one who wants to quit. What does that have to do with the company? We did you a favor by reducing your workload with a digital twin, and now you have the gall to ask me for money?” She waved a dismissive hand. “Forget it. You’re not getting a single cent. And if you push this, I’ll make sure everyone in this industry knows what kind of person you are. Let’s see who’ll be brave enough to hire you then.” With that, she shooed me away. I was about to argue further when my phone rang. It was Mr. Carter. He said communicating with “me” online was confusing and he wanted to meet in person. No doubt, my digital twin was screwing things up again. Even though I was quitting, I couldn’t just walk away from Mr. Carter after he’d just signed the deal. It wasn’t right. I arranged a time to meet him and went back to my desk to pack my things. As I did, I heard Vivian’s venomous voice behind me. “A real thankless snake. All she cares about is money.” I ignored her and walked back to my desk. My apprentice, Emily, looked at me with worried eyes. “Sophie, what did Vivian say? Was the pay stub a mistake?” I shook my head and told her everything Vivian had said. Not just Emily, but several other salespeople overheard and gathered around my desk, their faces a mixture of shock and outrage. “What? That’s insane! A ninety-ten split with no warning? You can’t run a business like that!” “Are they going to make a digital twin of me next? If so, I’m out of here.” “Seriously. Our base salary is nothing. We live on commission. Who’s going to be motivated to close deals with a policy like this?” As they were talking, the sharp click-clack of high heels approached from behind. It was Vivian. The faces of my colleagues instantly paled. They scrambled back to their desks, heads down. Vivian barked at them, “What do you all think you’re doing? It’s work hours! Stop gossiping and get back to it!” Then her glare landed on me. “Sophie, let me warn you. Don’t think you’re hot stuff just because you’ve closed a few deals. I can’t stand old dogs like you who think they own the place. I’m docking five hundred from your salary this month. And if I catch you spreading rumors in this office again, you’re fired!” 4 I looked at her, my face a mask of calm. “What did I say that wasn’t true? The company did it, but I’m not allowed to talk about it? What right do you have to dock my pay? If you can’t stand the sight of me, just pay my severance, and I’ll be gone in a heartbeat.” “You really think I can’t touch you!” she shrieked, slamming her hand on my desk. I was done arguing. I grabbed my bag and walked out. I wasn’t afraid of her. But facing Mr. Carter, I felt a pang of guilt. I had promised him I would personally oversee his project, and now, I was leaving. “Mr. Carter, I’m afraid I won’t be able to continue managing your project,” I began. “But don’t worry, I’ll entrust it to my most capable colleague. And if you run into any communication issues, you can still contact me anytime.” I added, “The contract also clearly states that if you’re not satisfied with the first version the company delivers, you can cancel the contract at any time.” To my surprise, Mr. Carter was less interested in the project and more interested in my resignation. “Sophie, you’re really quitting?” His voice was filled with excitement. “Then come work for me! Be my sales director. You know how many times I’ve tried to poach you.” I laughed, feeling a little overwhelmed. I told him I’d think about it and headed back to the office. When I walked in, I found my desk completely empty. “Where are my things?” I asked Emily. She pointed, her face flushed with indignation. “Vivian said your presence was bad for team morale. She moved all your stuff… over there.” I turned. A new desk had been set up right next to the restrooms. All my belongings were haphazardly thrown into a cardboard box on top of it. Vivian emerged from her office, arms crossed, leaning against a partition with a smug look on her face. “So, how does our sales champion like her new office? You’re the one who said salespeople have flexible hours and are rarely in the office. I figured you wouldn’t mind where you sat.” I gave the desk a single glance and walked straight to Mark’s office. Mark was an alum from my university. When he was starting his company, he begged me to join him. Out of loyalty to our shared alma mater, I turned down several better offers to join his tiny startup, operating out of a cramped residential apartment. For six long years, I helped him build the company to where it was today: a full floor in a prime commercial skyscraper. I needed to know if this was all Vivian’s doing, or if she was acting with his approval. 5 After I explained the situation, Mark leaned back in his plush leather chair, his expression a mask of friendly concern. “Sophie, it hasn’t been easy getting the company to this point. You know how tough the market is this year. When Vivian proposed the cost-cutting measures, I’ll admit, I thought it was a good idea.” He continued, his tone patient and patronizing. “You’re a veteran employee. You should be setting an example, supporting the company’s decisions. This is just a temporary difficulty. The change in commission structure is mainly for our long-term clients. If you work harder and bring in new clients, the commission rates will be the same as before.” Then he delivered the final blow. “To be frank, you’ve been slacking a bit lately. You haven’t been aggressive enough in developing new business. You can’t just rest on your laurels and live off the company’s existing resources.” Vivian walked in and sat down next to him, rolling her eyes at me. “Exactly. These old clients are company assets. You got a commission when you first signed them; you can’t expect to get paid every time they renew. You’re just a parasite, sucking the company dry and acting like you’re entitled to it.” I looked at Mark. He said nothing, but his expression was one of clear agreement. I’m in sales. Reading people is my specialty. And in that moment, I knew. This was all his idea. Vivian was just his hatchet man. He wanted me gone, and the reason was simple. The company was stable now, with a steady client base. I was no longer the hungry go-getter bringing in new business. In his eyes, my usefulness had expired. It was time to put me out to pasture. My salary was the highest outside of the management team, which made me target number one. But he was being incredibly naive. “Sophie, let’s not use such harsh words,” Mark said, his smile never wavering. “Look, this is the company’s policy now. If you really can’t accept it and choose to resign, there’s nothing I can do. For old times’ sake, I can give you an extra two months’ salary. A personal gesture from me. How does that sound?” Vivian sneered from the side. “Tsk, tsk. Look at you, managing to squeeze even more out of him. The company invests so much in you, and all you think about is money. It’s only because my brother-in-law is so soft-hearted. Any other company would have fired an old leech like you ages ago.” One played good cop, the other bad cop. My heart had already turned to ice. For the past month, coordinating projects and cleaning up after those digital twins, I had been running on less than six hours of sleep a night. Since they were so confident in their AI, fine. Let them try. But as a final courtesy, I offered one last piece of advice. “The work produced by the communication between those AI twins is completely different from what the clients actually want. When two AIs interface directly, the margin of error is huge. You need a human to constantly monitor and adjust.” Vivian burst out laughing. “Sophie, you’re on your way out the door. Why are you still trying to make yourself seem important? So, the high-tech, big-data system we built is useless, but you running to the tech department and causing trouble is useful? The clients haven’t complained. Stop trying to make yourself out to be some kind of hero.” Mark wasn’t listening either. He just waved his hand dismissively. “Alright, Sophie. The company will take your concerns into consideration. Just sign the papers. Finance will process your payment. That’s all. Just make sure you hand over your work properly.” Listen or not, my conscience was clear. I could already picture the clients’ fury when they saw the final product. The Apex Corp. project would have already gone off the rails if I hadn’t been watching it like a hawk. Honestly, I was morbidly curious to see what kind of monstrosity the digital twins would create without my constant intervention. The Apex contract had a specific clause: if the project was not delivered on time due to the contractor’s fault, the penalty would be ten times the contract amount. The contract was for one million dollars. The delivery date was less than half a month away. If they failed, they would be facing a ten-million-dollar penalty. I completed my resignation paperwork. The moment I signed, a look of immense relief washed over Mark’s face. He stood up and clapped me on the shoulder, a little too cheerfully. “Great. No hard feelings. We’ll still be friends. Feel free to stop by anytime.” I forced a smile and said, “Sure.” Knowing Mark and Vivian, I knew my warnings would be completely ignored. After packing up my things, I left the office and bought myself a plane ticket to the Maldives. After years of grinding at CloudForge, I was exhausted. I deserved a real vacation. I spent three glorious days soaking up the sun. Then, Vivian’s call came. She didn’t even say hello, just launched into a tirade. “Sophie! What the hell did you promise Mr. Gunn from Apex? Our tech team has been sending him drafts for days, and he’s rejected every single one!” Her voice was a shrill shriek. “Where are you? Get back here right now! You signed this contract; you need to come back and fix this until he’s satisfied!” I lounged on my beach chair, pushing my sunglasses up onto my head. “Sorry, Vivian. I’ve resigned. I’m on vacation in the Maldives. I don’t think I can make it back.” Her voice was so sharp it could have shattered glass. “Vacation! You haven’t even completed your handover! Who gave you permission to go on vacation? I’m telling you, if this contract defaults because of you, you will be held fully responsible!” So noisy. “I warned you that the project needed human oversight,” I said coldly. “You chose not to listen. That’s on you. I’ve already left. Your little manipulation tactics won’t work on me anymore.” With that, I turned off my phone. I enjoyed three more days of blissful silence. When I finally turned it back on, the phone vibrated so violently it nearly jumped out of my hand. 999+ missed calls. My chat apps had exploded. Most were from Mark and Vivian. There were also a few messages from Emily. [Sophie, Mark and Vivian have been looking for you like crazy.] [Mr. Gunn from Apex came to the office and went ballistic. He said if we can’t deliver something satisfactory, he’s suing us for the ten-million-dollar penalty.] A second later, Mark’s call came through.

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My housekeeper’s son came to stay every weekend. Considering Mrs. Davis had been with my family for years, I never made a fuss about it. But that day, I came home to find my key code wouldn’t work. I looked closer and saw a piece of paper taped to the door. Scrawled on it were the words: “NO LEECHES ALLOWED.” I ripped the note off and knocked. When the door opened, I asked the housekeeper what was going on. Her son, Kevin, was sprawled on my sofa, legs crossed, and he shot me a nasty look. “Can’t you read?” he snarled. “You live in our house for free, day in and day out. Have you no shame? If you don’t have a place to live, go sleep on the street. I can’t stand parasites like you!” I was completely bewildered. Mrs. Davis rushed over, whispering, “I’m so sorry, sir. I… I didn’t tell my son I was the housekeeper. He has a bit of a temper… he doesn’t like strangers staying in the house.” She then added, “Oh, and don’t you have that other house out in the suburbs? From now on, when my son is here for the weekend, you should probably just go stay there.” Before I could respond, she shut the door in my face. I stood there for a moment in stunned silence, then calmly pulled out my phone and dialed the police. “Hello, I’d like to report a home invasion. Someone is illegally occupying my property.” 1 I never thought that I, the son of one of the wealthiest men in the country, would ever be called a freeloader. Especially not in my own damn house. Twenty minutes after my call, a police cruiser pulled up to the villa. Before the two officers could even get out and ask for details, the front door flew open and our housekeeper, Mrs. Davis, came scurrying out. She ran up to me, her face pale with panic. “Mr. Vance, what’s all this? Why did you call the police?” I just looked at her, saying nothing. One of the officers sized her up. “Are you the individual Mr. Vance reported for trespassing and illegally occupying his residence?” At the word “trespassing,” Mrs. Davis went into a full-blown panic. “No, no, officer, it’s all a misunderstanding! I’m Mr. Vance’s housekeeper. I take care of him. My son is just on break from school, staying for a couple of days. The keypad was broken, and when the repairman came, he changed the code. There’s no occupation, I swear.” She pointed to the front door, forcing a smile. “See? I came to open the door for him right away.” The officers glanced from me to her. “Mr. Vance, do you still wish to press charges?” I was about to speak when Mrs. Davis leaned in, her voice a desperate, pleading whisper in my ear. “Sir, Kevin’s father passed away when he was young. It hasn’t been easy raising him alone. He’s just started college, you know how it is… full of pride. And growing up without a father… he can be a bit extreme. If he found out I was just a housekeeper, he’d be crushed.” “I only did it to make him feel better about himself,” she pleaded. “For the sake of the twelve years I served your parents, please, just let this one go.” The mention of my parents made my resolve waver. Mrs. Davis had been with us for twelve years. My mother had been frail, and Mrs. Davis had been her constant companion, attending to her every need with unwavering devotion. The day my mother passed, Mrs. Davis had cried harder than anyone, kneeling by the bedside, clutching my mother’s hand and promising she would take care of me. And she had. After Mom was gone, she ran the household flawlessly, treating me like her own son. Every holiday, I’d give her a generous bonus, and she would always refuse it several times before finally accepting. Three months ago, her son Kevin got into the same university as me. Mrs. Davis was ecstatic but also worried. She was proud of his achievement but knew she couldn’t afford the steep tuition. I understood how hard it was for a single mother, so I offered to cover his entire four-year tuition. She had burst into tears, gripping my hands and thanking me over and over, promising she would repay my kindness. But last month, things started to change. I came home one day to find Kevin in my living room. Puzzled, I looked to Mrs. Davis, who pulled me aside. “Sir, my son has the weekend off and nowhere to go. I haven’t seen him in so long, so I asked him to stay for a couple of days.” I nodded. It was no big deal. The house had plenty of space, and it was nice for them to have a reunion. But soon, I started to feel like something was very wrong. 2 “A couple of days” turned into a fixed, non-negotiable weekend ritual. Every Friday evening, Kevin would appear. Every Monday morning, he would leave. At first, he just took pictures in the living room to post on social media, showing off to his friends that he was living in a mansion. I could understand that. Everyone wants to look good. What I couldn’t understand was the look of pure disgust he gave me every time our eyes met, as if I owed him a million dollars. A few times, while I was watching TV on the sofa, he’d pointedly pinch his nose and complain loudly, “Ugh, why does this amazing villa always smell so… poor?” Thinking he actually smelled something, I asked Mrs. Davis to give the house a thorough cleaning. But Kevin’s behavior only got more bizarre. He started spraying disinfectant on any spot where I had been sitting. He even placed a disposable plastic sheet on the sofa and told me to sit on it. I once caught him throwing away a mug I had used, his face twisted in disgust. When I questioned Mrs. Davis, she would just give me a meek, apologetic explanation. “Kevin is just very particular about hygiene, sir. He’s worried about your health and safety.” I didn’t think much of it. Between my classes and managing affairs for my family’s corporation, I was swamped. I didn’t have the energy to argue. Until this afternoon. Seeing that note on my door, it all clicked into place. Kevin thought I was the freeloader. I had been ready to teach them both a lesson. But now, with Mrs. Davis begging and pleading, my anger began to cool. “Sir, I promise, it will never happen again,” she whimpered. “I’ll tell Kevin the truth today, and he’ll never come back. Please, for all the years I served your parents, just forgive me this once.” Looking at her crumpled, desperate face, I sighed. “Fine. I’m dropping the charges.” After the police left, Mrs. Davis let out a long, shuddering breath of relief, thanking me profusely. Her demeanor was impeccable. True to her word, Kevin never showed up again. Mrs. Davis continued her duties with her usual diligence, keeping the house spotless. The only issue was that things started to go missing. One day it was a bottle of vintage wine. The next, a set of silverware. Then, one of my designer suits. Every time I asked, she had an excuse. “Oh, sir, I am so sorry. I broke that bottle of wine while cleaning.” “Sir, that dinnerware was so old, I noticed a crack in it while washing. I was afraid you’d cut yourself, so I threw it away.” “Sir, I took that suit to the dry cleaner, and they lost it.” The excuses were flimsy, but her attitude was so apologetic that I let it slide. I thought that was the end of it. Then came the day of my parents’ memorial. After paying my respects, I decided to drive out to the suburban villa where they had lived for most of their lives. It was their favorite place. The garden was filled with my mother’s prize-winning roses, and the house was a museum of souvenirs my father had collected from his travels around the world. Before my mother passed, she held my hand and told me that the villa was their life’s work, and I had to take care of it. I cherished that house. Even though it was painful to be there, I made a point to go every few months to personally dust every piece of furniture and tend to the garden. But this time, as I pulled up, I froze. The gate, which was always locked, was wide open. From inside, I could hear the thumping bass of loud music and a cacophony of laughter. I strode forward and pushed open the door. The scene inside made my blood run cold. 3 The living room was a disaster zone. Empty bottles, snack wrappers, fruit peels, and cigarette butts littered the coffee table, the sofa, and the floor. The custom leather sofa, worth a fortune, was pockmarked with burn holes. My mother’s beloved Persian rug was covered in muddy footprints and stained with spilled wine. The artifacts on the walls had been taken down, used as props for photos, or simply smashed and left in a corner. My fists clenched at my sides. This was the house my parents had built, piece by piece. Every item had been chosen with love. I walked carefully here, terrified of breaking something. And now, it had been desecrated. My eyes scanned the room and landed on Kevin, lounging on the main sofa like a king. He was surrounded by a group of my classmates from the university. “Kev, man, your family is loaded!” one of them said. “Even your suburban place is this insane.” “Yeah, I just looked it up. That painting on the wall is worth millions!” “Dude, your mom is a powerhouse. A multi-billionaire tycoon!” “Hey, when you inherit the family business, think you can hook us up with jobs?” Kevin’s lips curled into a smug grin. “No problem. Stick with me, and you guys will be set for life.” The group erupted in cheers, showering him with praise. Just then, Kevin saw me standing in the doorway. His smile vanished. He swaggered over to me, his expression arrogant. CRACK. Without a word, he punched me square in the face. “You fucking leech,” he snarled. “Did you follow me all the way out here?” The sudden blow left me stunned. My classmates stared, wide-eyed. “Kevin, what’s going on?” Kevin pointed a trembling finger at me, his voice dripping with contempt. “This is Conrad. He’s the freeloader I was telling you guys about! Squatting in my city house wasn’t enough, now he’s trying to move into the new villa my mom just bought me!” I stared at him in disbelief. “Who told you your mom bought this house?” Kevin scoffed. “My mom did, obviously. You’re just a loser who’s trying to leech off my mom because she’s a CEO. You think I don’t see you, always trying to get her attention? It’s not enough that you squat in our home, trying to get her alone, now you want to defile my personal villa?” “Let me tell you something,” he sneered, jabbing a finger into my chest. “My mom said she only lets you stay with us because she feels sorry for you, you pathetic orphan. Don’t push your luck and think you can take my place.” So that’s what Mrs. Davis had told him. No wonder he hated me. In his mind, his mother was the billionaire owner of the mansion, and I was just a charity case she had taken in. He thought I was the one mooching off his family, trying to usurp his position as the rightful heir. How utterly absurd. Kevin turned to his friends. “You guys have no idea how shameless this guy is. He lives in our house and refuses to leave. I even left him a note, telling him to get out, and you know what he did? He called the cops on my mom! My mom was worried he’d make a scene and hurt the company’s reputation, so she just bought me this place to get away from him.” He was on a roll now. “I don’t get it. I’m her actual son, the real heir, and I still live in the dorms most of the time. But this parasite acts like our house is his! It’s so bad that if I want to wear my own clothes or drink my own wine, my mom has to sneak it out of the city house for me, because she’s afraid he’ll throw a fit and say we’re mistreating him. I’ve never met such a pathetic, shameless loser in my life!” My eyes widened. So that’s where my missing things had gone. Mrs. Davis had been stealing them for her son. So be it. If she wanted to play me for a fool, then I was done being gracious. 4 I pulled out my phone and dialed my legal department. “Get a team to my parents’ suburban villa immediately—” Before I could finish, Kevin snatched the phone from my hand and smashed it on the floor. “You piece of trash, still trying to put on an act? ‘Your parents’ villa’? This is my mother’s villa!” My classmates joined in the jeering. “No wonder he never stays in the dorms. We all thought he was busy with something important, but he was just being a parasite at Kevin’s house, trying to steal his mom. Disgusting.” “Yeah, his own parents are dead, so he goes after someone else’s rich mom. If his parents knew what a shameless loser he turned out to be, they’d be rolling in their graves.” “Some people are just like that. The second they see money, they start scheming. Trying to find a sugar mama to climb the social ladder.” “Kevin, you’re too nice. If someone tried to steal my parents, I’d rip them apart!” I ignored them and looked straight at Kevin. “I suggest you call your mother,” I said, my voice dangerously calm, “and ask her who this villa really belongs to.” Kevin’s face darkened. He grabbed the collar of my shirt. “You loser, you want me to call my mom? I know your game. You’re just trying to trick her into coming here so you can manipulate her again!” Suddenly, his eyes fixed on my neck. His gaze sharpened. “That jade pendant looks expensive. I bet you guilt-tripped my mom into buying that for you too, didn’t you?” Before I could react, he yanked the chain, ripping the pendant from my neck. It happened so fast, I was powerless to stop him. My blood ran cold. “Give it back,” I snarled. Seeing my sudden panic, a cruel smile spread across Kevin’s face. “So tense? Did this cost my mom a lot of money?” “It was my mother’s,” I said, my voice tight with urgency. “It’s not valuable, but it’s important to me. Give it back.” I lunged for it. That pendant was a talisman my mother had nearly died to get for me. I had been a sickly child, and at ten, I fell into a coma. The doctors told my parents to prepare for the worst. My mother, refusing to give up, went to a remote mountain temple to pray for me. To show her sincerity, in the blistering summer heat, she knelt and kowtowed every single step from the base of the mountain to the summit. Her knees were raw and bleeding, her forehead bruised and battered. By the time she reached the top, she was barely conscious, but the monks, moved by her devotion, gave her the pendant. Miraculously, I woke up from my coma. But the ordeal had broken my mother’s health. She never fully recovered. Before she died, she placed the pendant in my hand and made me promise to always keep it safe. It was more than an heirloom. It was the last piece of her I had left. It was a line no one was allowed to cross. “The more you want it,” Kevin sneered, “the more I want to destroy it.” He threw the pendant to the ground with all his might. There was a sharp, sickening crack. The jade shattered into a dozen pieces, scattering across the floor. “No!” A strangled cry escaped my lips. Seeing the one thing my mother had given her life for destroyed… I couldn’t breathe. The world went red. “You’re an animal,” I choked out, and with a guttural roar, I drove my fist into his face. “You piece of trash! You dare to hit me?” Kevin shrieked, clutching his bleeding nose. “Get him! Teach this loser a lesson! Whoever does the best job, I’ll have my mom give you a million bucks!” That was all it took. My classmates’ eyes lit up, and they descended on me like a pack of wolves, kicking and punching. “You hit Kevin? His mom is the richest woman in the city! Who the hell do you think you are?” “Yeah, you’re just a freeloader! That necklace was probably a handout from Kevin’s mom anyway. He can break his own stuff if he wants!” “Shameless trash! Trying to steal someone’s mom is one thing, but hitting the real heir? You’re asking for it.” “You have the nerve to mention your own mom? No wonder your parents died young, leaving a disgrace like you behind!” I was on the ground, shaking with a rage so profound it felt like it would tear me apart. “You’re all going to regret this,” I gritted out through a mouthful of blood. They roared with laughter. “Regret it? Kevin’s mom is a billionaire! What are you, a nobody, going to do to us?” “You’re just a pathetic orphan who lives by leeching off people. Who are you trying to threaten?” “All you can do is rage like a powerless little worm.” They held me down, mocking me, their faces twisted with contempt. Kevin, surrounded by his cheering friends, grabbed a fistful of my hair. “Regret it?” he spat. “I’ve never regretted anything in my life. I can’t wait to see how a lowlife like you is going to make me.” Just as the words left his mouth, the sound of screeching tires filled the air. A fleet of black luxury sedans had pulled up to the villa, their engines purring like predators.

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Last year, the developer’s son insisted on taking his yacht out during storm season. Half an hour later, he was gone. The yacht was caught right in the eye of the storm. Professional rescue teams couldn’t even get close. Only I knew how to navigate that old fishing boat. I didn’t hesitate. I steered the boat straight into the tempest and pulled him back to shore. But the moment he stepped off, he pointed a finger and cursed me, claiming I, a woman, had steered the boat so erratically that his limited-edition jacket got torn. He demanded I pay him thirty thousand. I confronted the developer, but he merely sized me up, cold and dismissive, telling me I had to take responsibility for my mistakes. This year, his son got into trouble again, in the very same stretch of sea. This time, the developer was literally begging, practically knocking his head on the ground, just for me to save his son’s life. 1 On South Bay Pier, I was patching the last tear in my fishing net. A commotion erupted behind me. Old Man Gunther, the village elder, rushed over, his face etched with worry: “Quick, everyone! Mr. Davies’ yacht is trapped in the storm!” The pier was packed with people. Mr. Davies stood at the front, his face a thundercloud. “What good are these rescue teams? Why aren’t they out there saving my son?” Old Man Gunther hastily waved his hands. “The rescue team says the water in that reef area is too shallow, big ships can’t get in!” A hush fell over the crowd. Then, Old Man Gunther suddenly looked at me, as if he’d found salvation. “Penny, you’re the only one in our village who can handle those old fishing boats. You’re the only one who can save Mr. Davies’ son.” Dark clouds churned ominously across the sky. But a life was on the line. “Alright, I’m going.” I jumped onto the old fishing boat my dad left me and fired up the engine. The storm was fiercer than I’d imagined. Several rogue waves crashed over me, drenching me to the bone, and leaving my arms with several stinging cuts. Half an hour later, I finally spotted the stranded yacht. Lucas Davies lay slumped on the deck, trembling uncontrollably. “Jump over!” I yelled at him. But he hesitated, and another wave slapped against the yacht, sending him cowering back onto the deck. “Jump, now! The waves are getting bigger!” The waves grew more violent, tossing the old fishing boat wildly on their crests. If I wasted any more time, not only would I fail to save him, I wouldn’t make it back myself. Finally, he moved. Lucas scrambled over the yacht railing, closing his eyes as he jumped. The moment his feet touched the boat’s edge, a wave struck, throwing him backward. Just as he was about to tumble into the sea, I grabbed his collar and yanked him up with all my might. I dragged and threw him onto my deck. He lay there, lips ashen, scared out of his wits. As I turned the boat around, I tried to reassure him. “Don’t worry, I’ve sailed this route for over twenty years. I’ll get you back safe.” The return journey was even more perilous than the trip out. The storm raged, and the waves swelled higher and higher. The cuts on my arm burned like hell from the saltwater, making me feel like my whole arm was about to snap off. But I couldn’t stop. After what felt like an eternity, just before the full force of the storm hit, we finally reached the shallows. I collapsed onto the boat, my entire body aching, bones feeling dislocated, blood dripping from my arm. The shore was in chaos. A few villagers helped Lucas off the boat. Old Man Gunther wrapped him in a towel and handed him a mug of hot water. Mr. Davies also embraced his son, his face filled with relief and concern. No one looked at me. Not even a “thank you.” I leaned against the helm, catching my breath for a couple of minutes, before getting ready to head home. A voice from behind stopped me. “Wait a minute!” Lucas, wrapped in a clean towel, strode over. He tossed his dripping wet jacket at me. “This jacket? Limited edition. Three thousand bucks!” I stared at the torn jacket on the deck, my mind blank. “What do you mean?” “Don’t play dumb, you witch! You’re the one who ripped my jacket. Aren’t you going to pay for it?” “And you drive like a maniac! Couldn’t you keep the boat steady? Waves splashed all over me!” I froze. It took a few seconds for it to click. When he jumped, he nearly fell into the sea. I’d grabbed his collar to pull him up, and that’s probably how his jacket got torn. I looked at him, then at my arm, still bleeding. “I just saved your life, and you want me to pay for your jacket?” He puffed out his chest. “A life is a life, a jacket is a jacket!” “You damaged my property, you have to pay! My dad says no one gets a free pass!” I turned to Mr. Davies. I thought he’d say something. After all, I had just risked my life, diving into the storm to pull his son from the sea. Any father would value his son’s life more than a tattered jacket, right? But his reaction completely blindsided me. He glanced at Lucas, a flicker of approval in his eyes. As if to say: Good boy, standing up for your rights. Then he turned to me, his voice flat. “You made a mistake, you have to take responsibility. You damaged the jacket, so you must pay!” I suppressed my anger, staring at Mr. Davies. “Why should I pay? I saved your son’s life!” Mr. Davies sneered. “Who asked you to save him? The rescue team was almost there. People like you, always sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong, just looking for an excuse to cozy up to us, right?” Lucas jumped up, glaring at me. “Exactly! You’re just a boat driver, trying to show off in front of me, hoping to climb the social ladder? Dream on!” I was stunned by his sheer arrogance and shamelessness. I looked at my fellow villagers, hoping they’d speak up for me. But they stood with Mr. Davies and his idiotic son. “This girl is so clueless. Mr. Davies is investing fifty million in our village. Why argue with him?” “Yeah, you damage something, you pay for it. Mr. Davies is right.” “Mr. Davies is a big shot, he treats everyone equally.” Listening to their familiar accents, seeing their familiar faces, I suddenly felt a wave of nausea. Fifty million? This Mr. Davies had promised to invest fifty million dollars in North Reef Village for tourism development. Yet, he hadn’t invested a dime, instead staying here for three months, freeloading and sweet-talking. The villagers dared not offend him, fearing their cash cow would bolt. They practically licked his boots, eager to please. Old Man Gunther, seeing the stalemate, tried to smooth things over. “Penny, just apologize, and this whole thing will blow over. It’s not about the money for Mr. Davies; he just wants an explanation.” An explanation. I saved his son’s life, and he wanted an “explanation” for me tearing his son’s jacket. I smiled. I looked at them and slowly spoke. “Alright, I’ll pay.” Back home, I simply bandaged the wound on my arm. Then I sat in the yard, looking at the old fishing boat docked by the shore. I decided to sell it. Not because I was short on three thousand. On the contrary, my grandparents and parents had accumulated quite a bit of property, including a dozen shops in the adjacent bay. But I felt the boat was unlucky. My dad had gotten into trouble on that very boat. Now this. It felt like bad karma. I pulled out my phone and contacted a buyer in the next bay. He offered four thousand dollars, a thousand more than Lucas’s stupid jacket. The deal was done the same day, and the money was transferred to me in full. The next day, I went to Mr. Davies’ office. Lucas sat on the sofa, legs crossed. Seeing me enter, he grinned. “Well, well, did you actually scrounge up the money? You didn’t have to borrow it, did you?” I ignored him, placing the money on the table. “Receipt.” Mr. Davies had his accountant issue a receipt, which read “Jacket Damage Compensation.” I took it, folded it, put it in my pocket, and turned to leave. Lucas called after me, smirking. “Next time, don’t be so eager to climb the ladder, and try to steer the boat a bit steadier.” The next day, I packed my things, ready to leave North Reef Village. I had a house and shops in the next bay, a place to settle down and shake off the bad luck. As I stepped out of the gate, I ran into Old Man Gunther. He looked surprised. “Penny, are you leaving?” I nodded. He frowned. “Isn’t the Mr. Davies business over? Besides, what’s a young woman like you going to do running off so far?” “I’m not running. My family property is still here. I’m just going to check out the next bay.” Old Man Gunther waved his hand. “Mr. Davies invested fifty million in our village. Falling out with him won’t do anyone any good.” I couldn’t help but laugh. “Old Man Gunther, has the fifty million arrived yet?” He stammered. “Soon, it’s going through the process…” I said nothing more, pulling my luggage and walking out. Just as I reached the village entrance, Mr. Davies’ car pulled up. The window rolled down, and Lucas poked his head out. “Oh, leaving already? Just because you had to pay three thousand? Is that why you’re running away scared?” Mr. Davies also glanced at me, stating calmly. “Young lady, don’t be so impulsive. You grew up in the village, going out might not be as good as staying here.” Lucas added. “Exactly, a boat driver, what can you do out there? Waitress?” I stopped, looking at them. “Mr. Davies, take your time with that fifty million. I’m not waiting.” Lucas’s face changed. “What do you mean?” “Nothing much. You keep scamming and freeloading in North Reef Village. I’m going to live my life in the next bay. No one gets in anyone’s way.” Mr. Davies’ face darkened. I settled into the next bay, taking over a storefront to sell dried seafood. My dad’s old clients, hearing I’d opened a shop, were willing to give me a hand. Business wasn’t booming, but it was comfortable enough. I’d occasionally visit North Reef Village. The village was still the same—run-down, roads unpaved, school unrepaired, not a penny of investment visible. Old Man Gunther would always greet me with the same line. “Soon, soon. Big projects take time, it’s always like this.” I couldn’t be bothered to expose him. One time, I overheard some villagers chatting. “Heard Old Man Hughes’ girl opened a shop in the next bay, doing quite well.” “Pfft, just selling dried goods? How much can she really make?” “She ran off over three thousand dollars, so petty.” “Exactly, a big boss like Mr. Davies, would he really care about her three grand? She just insisted on making a fuss.” I walked past them. They instantly fell silent when they saw me. No one thought Lucas was wrong. No one thought Mr. Davies was a problem. In their eyes, I was just a boat girl, supposed to quietly pay up and shut my mouth. I ignored them. Life went on like this for another year. It was the same storm season again. Lucas arrived in North Reef Village with a few friends. “Last time was just bad luck. This time I bought a new yacht, Italian imported. What storm can it not handle?” Mr. Davies stood nearby, probably feeling his son was now capable enough to venture out. At noon, Lucas set sail. Less than half an hour later, the storm arrived early. Lucas’s yacht was once again trapped in the same stretch of sea. After the distress signal was sent, the rescue team arrived quickly. But large ships couldn’t enter, and the rubber dinghies they launched were capsized by a single wave. Mr. Davies was sweating with anxiety. He seemed to remember something, frantically dialing numbers on his phone. Meanwhile, I was at home, taking a nap. Waking up, the numbers on my phone screen made me pause. Seventy-one missed calls, over a hundred text messages. Before I could even open them, my phone rang again.

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1 Five years. When the mental asylum doors finally swung open before me, I thought I’d be greeted by freedom and the warm embrace of my husband, Ryan Dudek. Instead, I was met by countless cameras, their lenses glinting with cold light, and a declaration that plunged me into an icy abyss: “Ms. Lynch, congratulations! This five-year mental asylum reality show has come to a perfect end!” A reality show? I hadn’t even processed the shock when Ryan, who should have been embracing me, appeared. His voice was calm, utterly devoid of emotion. “Noelle, all of this was Julianne’s idea. She orchestrated this program, and you, you were just the experimental subject I found for her, tasked with completing the recording.” So, this absurd charade had been streamed live, with three hundred million people participating in the voting. Julianne Lynch had, in turn, become a scorching hot, in-demand director. And me? For five years, I’d been subjected to electric shocks until my body convulsed, drooling uncontrollably, my mind often a fog. Ryan himself walked over and unlocked the handcuffs that had confined me for five years, saying with a detached tone, “The show’s over. Now, you can go home.” … The iron chains that had shackled me for five years were finally gone, but my legs felt like they were cast in lead. In my palm, I still clutched the last handwritten letter he’d given me, where he promised he could finally take me home. Now, that letter burned my skin. Ryan shook his head, a look of weary resignation on his face. “Those letters were also part of the experiment. It was Julianne’s idea, a way to test if you could survive on love alone.” “Looks like it worked pretty well.” Countless electric shocks. Now, there wasn’t a single patch of unmarred skin on my body. In the dark, windowless ward, I’d swallowed thousands of antidepressants. And the baby, a fully formed life, became deformed during a medical experiment, stillborn. The only thing that kept me going were his handwritten letters, which turned out to be mere props in an experiment. I touched my flat stomach, tears streaming down my face. “How could you be so heartless as to kill our baby?” When our eyes met, there was no guilt in Ryan’s gaze, only pride for Julianne. “That new drug was Julianne’s first commercial deal. No real pregnant women were willing to participate in the trial, so I could only sacrifice a child to help her achieve her dream.” “But you don’t need to be sad. At least you contributed to medical science.” Every nonchalant word he uttered felt like a stab to my heart. I looked around, then crawled towards him like a desperate dog, looking up. “What about Ethan? Why didn’t he come to pick me up?” The man recoiled sharply, as if he’d touched something filthy. But his words plunged me deeper into despair. “Ethan isn’t your child anymore.” Before I could react, the phone I’d just received suddenly rang. My son’s tender voice came through the line. “Are you really my mom? But I don’t want a crazy mom. I want a successful director mom like Aunt Julianne. Can’t you just… die?” Hearing my long-yearned-for son utter those words, I was so shocked my jaw hung open. My son impatiently hung up, and Ryan continued to explain. “Actually, this was also part of the experiment. For the show’s effect, I gave Ethan to Julianne as her son. We just wanted to air your reaction on the show.” Reporters rapidly clicked their shutters, frantically capturing the despair on my face. It was postpartum depression after giving birth to my son that led to me being taken to the asylum. That day, I cried my heart out. I worried my son would suffer without a mother. I worried Ryan would miss me. I had believed that today, we could finally be a family again, free from five years of nightmares. But on this very day, all my hopes dissolved into a colossal joke. “Ryan Dudek, let’s get a divorce.” Tears blurred my vision, and I could only hear my own hoarse voice. Ryan, who had been directing the reporters, finally looked up at me, frowning. Just as he was about to speak, his phone rang. Seeing the caller ID, he forced a smile as he answered. “Of course, the celebratory dinner is ready. I’ll be right back.” “I’ll transfer the money to her. You’re always the kindest.” Hanging up, he pulled a check from his pocket. “Take it. This is Julianne’s payment for your performance.” Seeing the amount, I laughed. Ten thousand dollars. The price for my five years in hell. I furiously tore the check to shreds and hurled the pieces at him. “I said, I want a divorce!” Ryan’s face instantly darkened. “If you divorce now, what about Julianne’s show? People will talk. Don’t be dramatic.” Instantly, my rage was doused with cold water. I gave a bitter laugh. Even the request for a divorce had to take a backseat to Julianne. Ryan slammed the door shut and left. I threw a cushion after him, like a truly deranged woman. Walking out of the asylum that had confined me for five years, I felt no joy of regained freedom. Seeing my hospital gown, taxis and passersby steered clear of me. In the city center, a giant screen played a promotional trailer for Julianne Lynch’ show. The woman in the sleek business suit was everywhere, alongside my own disheveled photos as a “featured guest.” I walked barefoot on the street, opening her social media feed. In these five years, she had become my son’s mother, my husband’s wife. They had visited Disneyland, the Eiffel Tower, ridden hot air balloons, and dived into the deep sea. They had explored every corner of the country and abroad. Ryan used to say he hated traveling. Every time I suggested it, he would pour cold water on my enthusiasm: “You’re not a child anymore. Where would I find the time to go gallivanting with you? Can’t you try to understand?” But he had not only gone with Julianne alone, he’d also taken tens of thousands of photos. Funny ones, playful ones, intimate ones, even some blurry ones were kept. Yet he hadn’t been willing to take even one wedding photo with me. Most glaringly, there was his support for Julianne’s career. He poured millions of dollars into paving her way, placing all resources into her hands. But he knew perfectly well that if I hadn’t been sent to the asylum, I would have become a renowned director by now. I self-destructively scrolled through countless times, my tears almost completely dried up. When I looked up again, I had walked home from memory. I tried the door lock code several times, but it always showed “incorrect input.” A bodyguard brutally kicked me aside. “Mr. Dudek said you’re not allowed in. The mistress of this house is Ms. Lynch. You’ll have to find somewhere else to stay!” He looked back, glaring at me with contempt. “Psycho.” I collapsed weakly on the ground, and through the glass, I saw the three of them—a happy family—sitting around the dinner table. This warm scene was exactly what I used to dream of. But now, the mistress of the house wasn’t me. Penniless, I huddled on the cold roadside for a night’s sleep. The next day, I returned to my company, only to be thrown out by my boss. “You dare show your face here again? What project would I trust a crazy person with? Mr. Dudek just gave the orders. If you know what’s good for you, get lost.” Thinking of my mother, still hospitalized, I felt close to losing my mind. “How dare he…” Before I could finish, Ryan’s call suddenly came through. “Noelle Lynch, you know Julianne spent five years on this reality show. Why would you ruin her work?!” I froze. “What are you talking about?” Ryan’s enraged voice was deafening. “Look at the big screen in the city center. These photos and rumors are all your doing, aren’t they? Are you not going to stop until you’ve completely destroyed her?!” I sharply looked up. On the large screen, a continuous loop of Julianne’s revealing photos played, alongside intimate pictures of her and Ryan. The furious voice on the phone grew more intense. “Go apologize to Julianne immediately. The breach of contract fees for the reality show, and your mother’s medical expenses—you can’t afford any of it!” As soon as the call ended, Julianne Lynch published a list of breach of contract fees and reputation damage compensation on her official website. She accused me of maliciously spreading her private photos and slandering her for breaking up my family. When the wall falls, everyone pushes it. The company that had just fired me also sent a legal letter, claiming I had damaged the company’s image and demanding compensation. Someone even leaked photos of me looking like a wraith in the asylum, solidifying the claims about my mental state. “Why is this crazy person out? Go die already!” “How can you trust what a psycho says? She’s just deliberately slandering Julianne Lynch!” … Faced with massive compensation demands and defamation, I couldn’t just sit back. I retaliated by posting an “apology video” online. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have allowed Julianne Lynch to take away my husband and child.” “I’m sorry, after being released from the asylum, I should have called the police immediately, instead of letting them turn on me.” The post went viral. Netizens began to question Ryan Dudek and Julianne Lynch’ relationship. Ryan called me repeatedly, but I hung up each time. Just when I thought everything was fine, my son cried in an interview: “Daddy and Aunt Julianne are just friends. My mom has always been crazy. She even said she wanted Aunt Julianne to die, boo-hoo…” Public opinion swung back again, and my phone was practically exploding. Legal letters flooded my phone. Seeing my own son accuse me, coupled with the astronomical compensation demands, my heart sank to rock bottom. Ryan called, his words laced with threats. “Julianne is being cyberbullied to the point of wanting to commit suicide. Do you have to drive her to her death before you’ll stop?” “Get over here and clarify, apologize!” I couldn’t believe it, shouting into the phone: “I haven’t done anything wrong, no way!” To my surprise, Ryan sent me my mother’s medical bill. Thousands of them. “Then you can try me!” Homeless, I wandered everywhere looking for a place to stay. But without exception, landlords slammed their doors in my face. “Who knows what a psycho like you might do? No landlord wants to take you in.” I tried to explain, “It’s all a misunderstanding…” “I saw all the videos online. Can a child lie? Still so stubborn.” The resounding slam of the door echoed heavily in my heart. I tried to borrow money everywhere, but was ruthlessly refused. “Sorry, sweetie, can’t do it.” “To be honest, Ryan told us not to lend you money. If it’s really that bad… maybe just apologize.” The hospital’s messages demanding payment for medical fees grew more urgent by the hour. An unprecedented wave of fear and exhaustion washed over me. I couldn’t hold on any longer. When he saw me, Ryan smiled knowingly. “I knew you’d come around. After this, I’ll take care of all your expenses.” I gave a weak, bitter laugh. Just as I was about to bow to Julianne, Ryan’s cold voice cut me off. “It’s gone too far. A simple apology won’t do anymore.” He pointed to the shirtless men around us and the dozens of cameras. “You cooperate with Julianne and film an R-rated movie. Then this matter will be over.” I looked up in shock, only to hear him continue nonchalantly: “There’s no high or low art. Hurry up and take off your clothes.” My eyes blazed red. “You want me to take off my clothes in front of cameras?” The man who once wouldn’t even let me wear a dress now felt like a complete stranger. Ryan didn’t answer my question, instead impatiently motioning for them to start the recording equipment. I struggled wildly, almost to the point of exhaustion: “It really wasn’t me! Let me go!” But Ryan refused to listen to another word, ordering his bodyguards to drag me onto the set. Julianne, as the director, followed them in. The moment the door closed, her face twisted into a snarl. “How does it feel to be betrayed by both your husband and son?” “Remember, I worked hard to get them, father and son. There’s no way I’m letting you take them back so easily!” Before I could react, she called a bank manager right in front of me: “Freeze the card used for medical expenses immediately!” What followed was a death certificate from the hospital. My heart plummeted completely. “Give me back my mother!” In that moment, I broke free from the bodyguards and lunged, my hands clamped tightly around her throat. “Noelle Lynch, you’re crazy!” Ryan burst in just then, seeing the scene, and shoved me away without holding back. Julianne cried, her face stained with tears: “Ryan, darling, if you hadn’t come in time, Noelle really would have choked me to death. She said I wasn’t fit to be Ethan’s mom…” Ryan’s sharp gaze fell on me, his face terrifyingly grim. “Acting like this in front of so many cameras, do you even care about being Mrs. Dudek anymore?!” I let out a sudden, bitter laugh. “She killed my mom! What else do I have to care about?!” Ryan froze, gritting his teeth. “Using your mother as a shield? You really are something!” “Since you don’t care about anything, then finish filming this movie, and I’ll make you famous!” He scoffed, taking Julianne with him as he left. The next second, the shirtless men closed in on me, frantically tearing off my clothes in front of the cameras. By now, I had no strength left to struggle. My vision swam with black spots, every part of me ached. I was thrown onto the ground like a dog with no dignity, blood gushing from beneath me. That night, Ryan spent a fortune buying trending topics, making the entire ordeal public. Julianne Lynch, as the rising director, received an award at the ceremony for her edited work. Below the stage, my son sat in his chair, eagerly awaiting. “Daddy, didn’t you say Mommy would be here?” Ryan impatiently glanced at his watch, about to make a call. Just then, his assistant rushed in, frantically waving his phone. “Mr. Dudek, bad news! Mrs. Dudek just livestreamed herself taking sleeping pills to commit suicide!”

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The new intern at the office was getting married, and he specially sent me an invitation. I opened it casually, but my entire body froze when my eyes scanned the bride’s name—Chloé Miller? Isn’t that my wife’s name? I reassured myself that there were plenty of people with the same name in the world, and I smiled, accepting the invitation. My colleagues beside me started to tease, saying how lucky Gage Price was to marry such a top-tier socialite. Someone added, “Although she’s a few years older than Gage, she’s incredibly well-preserved. She looks like a young woman.” As they spoke, someone projected the bride’s photo onto the big screen. A chorus of gasps and exclamations of envy instantly filled the room. I stiffly raised my head, and the face on the screen sent a chill through my entire body. It was clearly my wife’s face, an exact match! 1 On the day of their wedding, I arrived early. Gage Price, wearing a custom-made groom’s suit, shook my hand. “Thank you, Mr. Edwards, for taking the time out of your busy schedule to attend my wedding and witness my love.” A faint, cold smile played on my lips. To be precise, today I was here to witness their affair. At the hotel entrance, two floor-length wedding photos were displayed. In the pictures, Chloé Miller was in Gage’s arms, both smiling radiantly, full of happiness. Staring at the photos, my heart felt like it was being stretched and pulled by an invisible force. Gage’s smile was bright as he led me to the guest lounge. “Mr. Edwards,” he paused, a hint of tentative politeness in his smile. “On this special occasion, I’ll be less formal, if I may call you Adrian, sir?” He had just graduated from college this year, only twenty-two. His eyes sparkled, radiating the unique youthful energy of a college student. Seeing him smile so happily, my heart throbbed faintly. But I forced a smile and said, “You may.” I sat in the lounge. He offered me tea and fruit. His unbridled joy was exactly how I had been when I married Chloé. A hard, heavy stone felt lodged in my chest, making me feel suffocated and restless. That morning, before coming to the wedding, I had called Chloé. She said she was still away on a business trip. In the video call, she looked like a homesick child, her eyes filled with longing for me. She even showed me the watch she had bought for me. “I won’t be back for another three days. It feels like an eternity. Honey, I miss you so much.” Several times, I nearly broke down and exposed her hypocritical facade, but I held back. For fifteen years of marriage. In everyone’s eyes, Chloé was a good wife. A good mother, even a good daughter-in-law. Before this incident, I had once believed she was the best woman in the world. As happy as I once was, that’s how much pain I was in now. My colleague, Mark, arrived and complimented Gage. “You look absolutely dashing today!” Gage smiled, looking at me. “I’m happy because of the big day, but Adrian, sir, you’re still the handsome one.” At work, I was considered a handsome man. In college, I was the undisputed campus heartthrob. Even though I was a few years older than Gage, I still looked more attractive than him. But marriage was never won by looks alone. I felt no emotion, just a faint smile. Mark, ever the gossip, asked him, “Gage, I heard you’ve been with your wife for four years.” “How did you meet such a top-tier socialite like your wife?” Mark even playfully nudged his arm. “Are there any other eligible women like her? Introduce me; I’ll get a divorce right away.” Hearing the words “four years,” my heart shattered into ice. Four years. She had kept this from me for four years. And I hadn’t noticed a single sign of Chloé’s infidelity. I just pretended to be calm and listened to Gage speak. “She’s the best gift destiny could have compensated me with.” As he spoke, Gage pulled Mark to sit next to me. He said, “My freshman year, my parents both died in an accident.” “I almost couldn’t afford college. It so happened that my wife’s alma mater was my university.” “She donates five hundred thousand dollars to the university every year, and I was one of the students she sponsored.” “That winter was very cold. To thank her, I personally knitted her a sweater.” “That sweater, it started our love story.” I remembered Chloé did have a handmade sweater. She cherished it. But she had told me it was a gift from my deceased mother. Once, our son accidentally dropped the sweater on the floor. She lost her temper, giving him a harsh scolding. Turns out, that sweater was hand-knitted by Gage. What chilled me most was that she donated five hundred thousand dollars to the school every year, and I knew absolutely nothing about it. Two years ago, she claimed the company was facing a cash flow crisis. She mortgaged our house, her parents’ house, and my parents’ house. Only then did she help the company through its difficult period. Even now, the company’s business remains stagnant, neither losing nor gaining, in a half-dead state. Yet, such a shrewd woman would do something so absurd—cutting off her own arm to help a lover, just for a smile. Mark was incredibly envious and asked again: “I heard your wife might make a lot of money, and she gives it all to you.” “So why are you still working like a dog at our company?” I pricked up my ears, staring at Gage. The smile never left his face. “Even though she gave me all her money, it’s more than I could spend in dozens of lifetimes.” “But I want to do a job I enjoy. I don’t want to just be a man she supports.” “I have my own worth.” More than he could spend in dozens of lifetimes? My chest tightened even more! Just last month, our son couldn’t afford the fifty thousand dollar tuition for his private school. He transferred to a public school, and the huge sense of loss caused my ten-year-old son to develop anxiety and depression. I pretended to be calm and asked: “What industry is your wife in, to be making so much money?” “Her company mainly operates overseas. The domestic company doesn’t make much.” I was stunned. I had no idea Chloé had opened a company overseas. For the past four years, she claimed the company was struggling. And cut off money for the household. My after-tax annual salary of eighty thousand dollars was just enough to cover our family expenses. So I never pressured her. Even a few years ago when my mother-in-law passed away, spending almost two hundred thousand dollars on treatment over a year. I paid for all of it, a hundred thousand of which I had to borrow. To pay off that debt as soon as possible, I had to both maintain the facade that our family hadn’t fallen on hard times and scrimp and save. Chloé witnessed my many nights of worry and sleeplessness, saw my hair rapidly turning gray in my thirties. Yet, she never contributed a single dime. Mark continued to gossip, his voice a little lower. “I heard your wife was divorced, and you’re her second husband.” “Can she manage her relationship with her ex-husband’s side well?” A cold laugh formed in my heart, but I managed to control the churning emotions within me. Gage seemed to have nothing to hide, a smile still on his face. “Her ex-husband and son both passed away.” A gaping hole tore through my chest, and a choking sensation lodged in my throat. Incredulous, Chloé had actually told him that my son and I were dead. A hint of regret appeared on Gage’s face. “It was an accident. Such a shame, that poor guy didn’t get to enjoy life with her.” More colleagues from work arrived. Gage continued to smile, greeting them. He showed no sign of noticing my changing expression. They surrounded Gage, praising him. Everyone envied his good fortune, finding a wealthy, generous, and loving wife. As they were talking, Gage’s phone video rang. It was Chloé calling. Everyone cheered for Gage to answer. Gage didn’t answer, instead saying, “I want her to see me like this today, only when we exchange rings at the wedding.” Everyone cheered again. “Gage wants to surprise his wife at the wedding.” Gage smiled. “To be honest, my wife didn’t have a wedding for her first marriage.” “She never took wedding photos, nor did she ever see her beloved in a groom’s suit.” “So I want her to be happy and unforgettable today.” He was right. Fifteen years ago, when Chloé and I married. She was still a penniless Cinderella. Our wedding was completely bare-bones. Even the rings were fake, bought from a dollar store. I put all my money into supporting her entrepreneurial venture. Three months ago, our son suggested that she take wedding photos with me as a keepsake. She gave a natural smile. “We’re old married folk now.” Then added, “We’ll take a family photo sometime.” I felt a vague disappointment then, but I didn’t dwell on it. I always believed that as long as the family was safe, sound, and loving. Nothing else mattered. She had completely forgotten that on our wedding day, when we lived in a two hundred dollar basement apartment. She had tears in her eyes as she promised me: “Honey, when I have money, I’ll definitely take wedding photos with you, buy you a car, a house, and give you all the best things.” But when she had everything. What she gave me in return was a soul-crushing betrayal. Someone gasped, covering their mouth. “No way, she didn’t have a wedding with her deceased ex-husband?” “She said she had no feelings for her ex-husband, didn’t want to, but her parents forced her.” Gage said this calmly, as if he wasn’t talking about Chloé’s life. “She said, when her ex-husband died, she finally felt a sense of relief.” “Like the whole world brightened up.” My heart was tearing apart with pain. I never imagined Chloé would so cheapen and humiliate our relationship in front of her lover. She was the one who relentlessly pursued me until I agreed to marry her. On the surface, I remained unfazed. As Gage was speaking, he suddenly remembered something and smiled blissfully. “Oh, and my wife is pregnant, two months along.” Everyone gathered around him, congratulating him. Saying his child would be a genuine heir to a wealthy family. Gage didn’t shy away from the topic. “My wife has already given all her assets to me and our child.” “She’s also planning for us to move abroad as a family after the wedding, a honeymoon of sorts, to truly relax.” Again, there was a chorus of envy. My spine turned cold. His child is the heir? What about my child?! My ten-year-old son, at the age of eight, had risked his life to save Chloé from a fire. That time, Chloé was inspecting a warehouse. The warehouse caught fire due to an electrical problem. My son saw her trapped inside and rushed in without hesitation to save her. Since then, my healthy son had a broken leg and has been limping ever since. Chloé had cried for several nights, heartbroken. She promised me and our son, again and again. She would work hard to give me and our son the best life. To make our son a wealthy heir who would never run out of money. Now, those words were the biggest joke in the world. Mark was once again insanely envious, exclaiming again. “Gage, heaven has been so good to you.” “Your wife truly loves you so much! You two must be happy.” Gage patted Mark’s back, his tone full of certainty. “Don’t worry, she’d even risk her life for me. She’ll definitely love me forever.” I raised an eyebrow, deliberately asking, “What reckless thing did she do for you?” “Two years ago, I was with her, meeting at her company’s warehouse.” “Later, I lost a shoe. Actually, a pair of those shoes only cost fifty-nine dollars.” “Just because I really liked those shoes, she went back herself to look for it.” “But the warehouse unexpectedly caught fire, and she almost lost her life.” “Luckily, she was blessed with good fortune and found that cheap shoe for me.” My blood boiled, and I clenched my fists, my fingernails digging deep into my flesh. I never imagined that my son’s broken leg was because of him. Fifteen years of marriage, and I only just discovered that my wife, the person sleeping beside me, was a demon. The one who delivered the fatal blow was my most trusted wife! “Oh my god, how touching, this is just like a novel!” someone exclaimed. Everyone, like Gage, was moved, quietly wiping away the faint tears at the corners of their eyes. Someone else said: “Your wife is so good to you. Are your in-laws also that good to you?” I looked at him, and he nodded firmly. “Her mom and dad are both very good to me.” My spine tingled with coldness. Chloé’s mother had passed away four years ago. Her father suffered from Alzheimer’s and now resided permanently in a nursing home. Gage pulled out a fine piece of black jade from his chest. It was identical to the one I wore around my neck. He held it up for everyone to see. “This was a gift from my father-in-law. Although it doesn’t look like it’s worth much, he said it’s a family heirloom.” “It’s only passed down to sons-in-law. Starting with him, we’ll pass it down generation to generation.” I carefully touched the black jade around my neck, only to realize it was fake. As everyone once again expressed their envy. A staff member called out from a distance: “Where’s the groom? The wedding is about to begin.” Gage immediately smiled and responded: “Coming, coming.” Then he smiled at us and said, “See you later.” I silently thought to myself: See you later! Many people came to the wedding. I saw a couple with “Bride’s Father” and “Bride’s Mother” written on their chest badges. A bitter smile formed in my heart. Chloé, in order to give Gage a happy wedding. Actually hired people to impersonate her parents. The wedding entered the groom picking up the bride’s procession. On stage, Chloé’s lips curved into a blissful smile. I stood in the corner behind her, my heart churning with immense hatred. I watched her eagerly walk towards the door of happiness, take Gage’s hand, and walk back to the stage. At the wedding, they exchanged vows of eternal love. The officiant, following the script, asked Gage: “Groom, do you take this bride?” Gage, without hesitation, smiled and loudly replied, “I do!” I took the microphone, walked onto the stage, and spoke loudly with a sharp tone: “That depends on whether I agree!” My gaze, sharp as a blade, fixed on Chloé’s eyes. “Wife, wouldn’t you agree?”

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I quickly dialed 911. The reason? I had just returned home from a month-long trip to the Maldives only to encounter an infuriating scene. Previously, the housekeeper, without my permission, had brought her daughter to live in the house. At the time, she swore the mother and daughter would only stay in the staff quarters, so I didn’t press the issue further. Until that day, a lease agreement on the living room table caught my eye. Beside it was a glaring sticky note that read: “Shameless, living in my house for so long for free. Starting next month, I’m collecting rent, twenty thousand a month, six months deposit, three months upfront!” I was holding the contract, about to confront the housekeeper, when her daughter, arms crossed, rolled her eyes at me disdainfully. She preemptively questioned, “You’ve lived here for so long, have you paid a single penny in rent? Now I’m just claiming what’s rightfully mine. What right do you have to complain?” Her twisted words made me laugh in anger. It seemed I couldn’t let them get away with this without teaching them a lesson. 1 “911? I’d like to report a trespasser.” Hearing I was calling the police, Mandy’s face instantly changed. “Are you crazy? This is my house. Why are you calling the police?” I ignored her, stating the address into the phone. “Yes, someone has unlawfully entered a private residence and is suspected of extortion. There’s written evidence on site.” Mrs. Kinnear rushed out of the kitchen, clutching a handful of greens. “What’s going on?” Seeing the lease agreement in my hand and her daughter’s pale face, the greens in her hand dropped to the floor with a thud. “Ma’am! Ma’am, this is a misunderstanding, Mandy, she doesn’t know any better…” Mrs. Kinnear lunged forward to apologize to me, but Mandy blocked her. “Mom, don’t beg her!” Mandy stiffened her neck, though her voice began to waver. “She dares to call the police? She dares to let the police check whose house this is? She’s just a kept woman…” “Mandy,” I cut her off, “say one more word, and I’ll have you locked up for defamation too.” She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. The police arrived quickly. Two young officers, one taking notes, the other examining the scene. The lease agreement was put into an evidence bag, and the handwriting on the sticky note was photographed for evidence. Mandy stood in the corner, her phone clutched in her hand, the screen flashing repeatedly. I wondered who she was texting. “Ms. Ford,” the officer taking notes looked up at me, “who is the owner of this house?” I said, “Me, Clara Ford. The property deed is in my bedroom safe. I can retrieve it if needed.” “No need.” He closed his notebook. “The on-site evidence is sufficient. However, we need to confirm the relationship between Ms. Kinnear and you?” I glanced at Mandy. She still wore an arrogant, unrepentant expression. “No relation.” “She’s my housekeeper’s daughter. She moved in without my permission and forged a lease agreement to charge me rent.” Mandy suddenly shrieked, “What forged? That contract is real! This house is mine!” “Mandy!” Mrs. Kinnear clapped a hand over her daughter’s mouth, trembling all over. “Stop talking, Mom’s begging you, stop talking…” The officers exchanged glances. One of them told Mandy, “Ms. Kinnear, please come back to the station with us to assist with the investigation. You are suspected of unlawful entry and extortion, which requires further verification.” I watched her coldly, saying nothing. Mrs. Kinnear suddenly knelt down, her forehead pressed to the floor, knocking repeatedly. “Ma’am! Ma’am, I beg you! Mandy’s father died early, I didn’t raise her well. Please, for the sake of me saving you a year ago, spare her this one time…” Her forehead hit the flagstone, making a dull thud. I looked at her greying temples, remembering that rainy night when she also knelt on the ground, begging the doctor to save me. A year ago, I had a miscarriage and fainted on the staircase. Mrs. Kinnear discovered me when she got up in the night. She immediately called for an ambulance and got me to the hospital, which allowed me to receive timely emergency care and saved my life. That’s why I always treated her like family, giving her a generous bonus during holidays and special occasions. “Mrs. Kinnear,” I knelt down, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Please get up.” “Unless Ma’am agrees, I won’t get up…” I sighed. “I agree. I won’t pursue this.” I looked at the police officer. “We’re settling. No charges.” The officer seemed surprised. “Ms. Ford, the evidence is conclusive. Following procedure would mean at least fifteen days in detention. Are you sure?” “I’m sure.” I said. “Mrs. Kinnear saved my life. Today, I won’t pursue charges. Consider it repayment for her kindness.” Mandy froze, as if she hadn’t expected me to let her off so easily. Her expression shifted from fright to confusion, then finally to a barely concealed smugness. She thought I was afraid, that I had some secret leverage preventing me from escalating the situation. I looked at Mandy. “But, if I ever see anything like this again, there won’t be such an easy settlement.” She pouted, saying nothing. “Also,” I pointed to her pajamas, “take those clothes off, wash them, and leave them outside my bedroom door. I want to see them tomorrow morning.” Her face flushed crimson, but with the police still present, she dared not lash out. I turned and went upstairs, hearing Mrs. Kinnear’s endless thanks behind me, and Mandy’s low murmur: “What’s the big deal? It’s not even her house, putting on airs…” Two months ago, my husband and I went on vacation to the Maldives. Only Mrs. Kinnear was left at home. To my surprise, upon returning, I found the house in disarray. My treasured red wine, my silk pajamas. All ruined by someone. I initially thought the house had been robbed and was about to call the police. Mrs. Kinnear, who had just returned from grocery shopping, saw it and tearfully begged for my forgiveness. It turned out her daughter had just come to the city for a job and had nowhere to stay. Mrs. Kinnear thought the house was empty anyway, so she let her stay for a while. She repeatedly promised. She wouldn’t let Mandy touch anything in the house again, and her activities would be confined to the staff quarters. Seeing the mother and daughter, dependent on each other, seemed truly pitiful, so I reluctantly agreed. As a result, Mandy not only wandered around my villa every day but also used my bathtub without permission and stole my skincare products. I tolerated it again and again. To my surprise, a month later, Mandy tossed a lease agreement at me. The lessor on the contract was even her name! I had let her live here, eat and stay for free, yet she turned around and demanded rent from me. That evening, Mrs. Kinnear, her eyes red, knocked on my bedroom door. She handed me the envelopes of money I had given her over the years, her voice hoarse. “Ma’am, it’s my daughter being foolish, causing you trouble. But I’m an old woman, and I only have this one daughter… It’s all my fault, I didn’t raise her well. I left her in the countryside since she was little, didn’t look after her properly.” “Please, in your great generosity, don’t hold it against her. She’s just a child. I’ll make her move out as soon as she finds a job, okay?” “This money is our rent, mother and daughter.” Seeing her like this, I remembered the child I’d lost to miscarriage and couldn’t help but soften. I stuffed the envelopes back into her pocket, ultimately not having the heart to kick them out. “You can continue to stay here.” “But if I find her touching my things again, don’t expect me to be so lenient.” The next morning, as I went downstairs for coffee, Mandy was already sitting at the dining table, fully dressed. She had changed out of my silk pajamas, wearing one of Mrs. Kinnear’s old jackets, her hair neatly tied back, a laptop open in front of her. “Morning, Ms. Ford.” She greeted me with a smile, as if nothing had happened yesterday. “I’m looking for a job. Am I bothering you?” I ignored her, heading directly to the coffee machine. “Oh, right,” she suddenly said, “I posted a TikTok last night, accidentally filmed the living room. Netizens say this house is beautiful.” My hand paused. “Delete it.” “Why should I?” She tilted her head, looking innocent. “I didn’t film you; I filmed my house. Oh, no, it’s your house now, but eventually…” She didn’t finish, just looked at me with a meaningful smile. “Mandy,” I turned, articulating each word, “I’m saying this one last time. This house is mine. My name is on the deed. If you spread any more nonsense, I will hire a lawyer to sue you for defamation.” “Yours?” She scoffed, her fingers typing rapidly on the keyboard. “Clara Ford, do you think I don’t know? This house belongs to Sterling Julian, the heir to the Sterling Group. You’re just his kept woman. You actually think you’re the lady of the house?” I froze. How did she know Sterling? Sterling and I had been secretly married for three years, never publicly announcing it. Even Mrs. Kinnear only knew my husband’s last name was Sterling, and that he occasionally traveled for work, never asking too many questions. “Don’t look at me like that,” Mandy said, confidently lifting her chin. “I checked. This villa is registered under Sterling Julian’s name. You’re a woman with no official status, living here for free, eating and drinking, and you still have the nerve to put on airs with me?” She stood up, leaning close to my ear, her voice soft as a serpent’s hiss. “Clara Ford, aren’t you just a mistress? Why the act?” I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. So that was it. She thought I was Sterling’s mistress, thought she had leverage over me, which was why she dared to be so arrogant. I had intended to explain, but looking at her face, filled with greed and calculation, I suddenly felt it was unnecessary. Explaining to an idiot was a waste of breath. I poured myself a cup of coffee and returned to my room. “Think what you like.” I occasionally scrolled through Mandy’s TikTok, finding her follower count growing alarmingly fast. The video title was “A Day in the Life of a Heiress.” She made breakfast in my kitchen, tried on clothes in my walk-in closet, and had afternoon tea by my pool. She never showed her full face, either filming her back or wearing a mask, coupled with lazy background music and exquisite filters, creating the persona of a mysterious rich girl. The comments section was full of envious messages: [So beautiful, which mansion is this?] [Heard this is the Sterling Group heir’s house. Is she Mrs. Sterling?] [Secret marriage confirmed! Someone once filmed Sterling Julian with a mysterious woman, could it be her?] She never denied it, only posted ambiguous emojis. Friday evening, as I went downstairs for water, I heard an argument from Mrs. Kinnear’s room. “…Are you crazy? That’s illegal!” Mrs. Kinnear’s voice was tearful. “Mom, what do you know? This is called monetizing traffic!” Mandy said impatiently. “Do you know how much I get for one ad? Fifty thousand! Fifty thousand! You won’t earn that in a lifetime as a housekeeper!” “But this is lying… Ma’am, she…” “She what? She’s just a mistress! Flaunting herself in Sterling’s house. I’m just carrying out divine justice!” I leaned against the wall, listening quietly. “Mom, just stay out of it. Once I get a million followers, I’ll land a big deal. Then we’ll move out, buy our own house, and never have to suffer anyone’s bad temper again!” Mrs. Kinnear was still crying, but her voice faded. I carried my water glass upstairs, my heart icy cold. So Mrs. Kinnear knew. But she chose to remain silent. Monday morning, I was woken by my phone vibrating frantically. Checking it, I saw dozens of missed calls, 99+ WhatsApp messages, all from friends and business partners. “Clara, have you seen the trending topic?” “Are you okay? Do you need my help?” “Who is this woman? How dare she?” I opened Twitter. The top trending topic glaringly read: #SterlingJulian’sSecretWife# Clicking into it, the pinned post was a long article by a marketing account, accompanied by screenshots from Mandy’s TikTok. The article vividly narrated: “Sterling Group heir Sterling Julian, secretly married for three years, his wife turns out to be the mysterious online celebrity ‘MandyB’. It is reported that the woman lives in Sterling Julian’s mansion, regularly sharing her opulent lifestyle. Recently, netizens uncovered her true identity…” The comments section was full of blessings. The few dissenting voices were immediately attacked by fans: [Haters begone! Does the legitimate wife need to prove herself to you?] Soon after, another ID named “TruthDigger” jumped out and posted a tweet. He posted nine pictures: me and Sterling in a restaurant, us entering a hotel together, him picking me up at the airport. In the photos, my face was either in profile or my back was turned, but it was clearly the same person. The caption read: [Sterling Julian, secretly married for three years, his wife is discreet and virtuous, yet someone took advantage and interfered. According to insiders, the woman’s last name is Ford, CEO of a certain company, who approached Sterling Julian under the guise of work, repeatedly entering his private residence. Mrs. Sterling, kind and forbearing, was repeatedly provoked and insulted by the other party. Justice may be delayed, but it will not be denied.] The comments section had gone insane. [Holy sh*t! Mistress get lost!] [This woman has the face of a vixen!] [Poor Mrs. Sterling, you can tell from her face she’s kind and easily bullied!] [Last name Ford? Is it that Clara Ford? I always thought she was fake!] I scrolled down and saw my photos photoshopped into various monstrous images, captioned “Mistress, go die.” Someone had dug up my company’s address, and others were talking about sending me funeral wreaths. My phone rang again. It was my assistant, Leo, his voice tearful. “Ms. Ford, the company building is surrounded by reporters, and… and people are throwing things. Please don’t come in today…” I hung up, trembling with anger. I rushed downstairs. Mandy was sitting in the living room, a tripod set up in front of her, livestreaming. She was wearing full makeup today, and my custom-made gown. “Yes, my husband is Sterling Julian. We’ve been married for three years. I didn’t want to go public before because I was afraid it would affect his work, but I never expected to be taken advantage of…” She saw me, her eyes lit up, and she said to the camera, “Oh dear, speak of the devil. Everyone, look, this is the mistress who has been living in my house, Clara Ford.” She spoke, her voice choked with sobs, “I kindly took her in, let her live in my house, but I never expected her to… to be so shameless…” She covered her mouth, as if she couldn’t continue. The comments section instantly exploded: [Holy cow! The true wife is confronting the mistress!] [This woman has such thick skin, still daring to show up!] [Go, MandyB, go! Tear down that home-wrecker!] [Took her in? A mistress living in the real wife’s house?]

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