Damian Cartez Romanov, the most dangerous mafia leader who wants Isabella Cassandra, a spy sent by his enemy to kill him. Initially, Damian wanted to kill Isabella because she dared to disturb his peace, but when he found out who Isabella really was, Damian erased his intention. Isabella Cassandra is someone who keeps a big secret about the Romanov Family and also a secret about their past relationship. Can Damian maintain his true love for Isabella when she is a spy for the greatest enemy who wants his death?

I died, but my husband thought it was just another excuse to avoid divorcing him. Not only did he openly bring that woman into our home, but he also believed every word she said. He ignored our daughter’s unexplained disappearance as though she’d never existed. Until the day he, a forensic pathologist, performed an autopsy on a disfigured child’s body. And when he realized that corpse was our daughter, his world completely fell apart. I died, and my faint, ghostly form drifted through the air, screaming and sobbing. But my husband, Charles Miller, couldn’t see my despair. He was wearing a surgical mask, and his attention was fixed on the body sprawled before him. Charles was a pathologist. Early this morning, he received an order to examine a body found at a remote dump site. For someone used to seeing death and gore, even he dry-heaved at the sight of the child’s corpse. A flash of sympathy crossed his eyes. The small body was unrecognizable. Her face was smashed into pulp, and her entire form was broken and bruised. Time and weather had already begun their work, leaving the body in a grotesque state of decay. The sight was sickening. After a preliminary examination, Charles brought the body back to his lab. His movements were swift, professional, and detached as he began the autopsy. Hovering above him, I watched. A hollow pain ripped through me like I was dying all over again. If Charles knew he was dissecting our daughter—Emma’s body, would he still be this calm? “The victim is a female, approximately six or seven years old,” Charles said with steady voice as he dictated notes. “Blunt force trauma to the back of the head. Cause of death appears to be cerebral contusions from the impact. “Postmortem mutilation is severe. The face has been obliterated with a blunt object. Extensive skin corrosion makes fingerprint retrieval impossible,” He sighed deeply after finishing, and his gaze lingered on the destroyed little body. “Whoever did this is a monster. What kind of sick bastard would do this to a child?” I listened to his words, but my heart seethed with rage. The monster was the woman you brought into our house. That woman, Amelia Wilson, murdered our daughter, Emma. You were grieving over the work of your beloved mistress. The case was brutal. Public outrage was mounting, and with the heavy rains washing away evidence, the investigation was at a deadlock. Charles and the rest of the team were working overtime. When he finally came home, it was nearly dawn. I followed him inside and froze when I saw Amelia lounging on the sofa like she owned the place. My hatred burned white-hot. This wicked woman murdered my baby girl. “Charles, you’re back so late,” Amelia said, getting up to greet him and help him out of his coat. “A child’s body was found in the woods,” Charles replied, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The killer’s vicious and smart. It’s been a nightmare.” He didn’t notice the flicker of panic in Amelia’s eyes. “That… that poor child. How did she die?” Amelia asked. Her voice was light and casual. Too casual. “Amelia, you shouldn’t ask about these things. It’s too disturbing. Besides, it’s not good for you,” Charles said gently, sliding his arm around her waist. His hand rested on her stomach. “You’re carrying a baby, after all.” I stared at them, and my anger twisted into something dark and bottomless. Emma was gone—murdered by her hands. And here was my husband, comforting the woman carrying someone else’s child. He didn’t even know how cruel the joke was. That night, after Amelia had fallen asleep, Charles slipped out of bed and stepped onto the balcony. I watched as he dialed a number—my number. The phone went straight to voicemail. “Damn it,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration before heading back inside. I exactly knew what Charles was trying to do. He wanted to get in touch with me so we could finalize the divorce. He was eager to marry Amelia. But he didn’t know. I was already dead. Dead on the very day I was supposed to meet him to sign those papers.

A week ago, Charles and I had a huge fight. He told me he was going to bring Amelia into our home. “Amelia just got divorced and returned to the country. She’s pregnant, alone, and has nowhere to go. Can’t you let her stay here for a while? Olivia, why are you so heartless?” Charles stood in front of me yelling as if I were the unreasonable one. And his face was flushed with anger, I clenched my fists and shot back with a cold laugh. “Heartless? Would it make me not heartless to let you parade your little affair right under my nose? Charles, don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to.” Charles froze for a moment, and his brows furrowed tightly. “Don’t say things like that. It’ll ruin Amelia’s reputation.” There was his instinctive need to protect Amelia as if she were a fragile treasure. I stared at the man I had loved for nearly a decade. A sharp and twisting ache was in my chest. Amelia had been his childhood sweetheart, his first love that got away. And me? I was just her stand-in. When I found out about their past, Charles and I were already married, and I was six months pregnant with Emma. He’d told me it was over between them, that there was no chance for her to come back. I believed him. I thought time would erase whatever lingering feelings he had for her. But now, with Amelia back in town, it seemed I wasn’t worth him keeping around anymore. “If you bring her here, we’re getting a divorce,” I said firmly. Charles blinked, then let out a cold and angry laugh. “Do you think you can use divorce to threaten me? Fine. I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time.” So that was it. Charles didn’t love me—he never had. His heart had always belonged to Amelia. I bit the inside of my cheek to stop the tears and kept my voice steady. “After the divorce, Emma stays with me.” “Why should she?” Charles snapped. “Do you think you can give Emma a better life than I can?” We didn’t resolve anything. The fight ended with him slamming the door and storming out. He shouted over his shoulder, “Bring your papers tomorrow.” The door slammed shut with a deafening bang. The tears I’d been holding back finally fell. Charles never came home that night. I sat alone in the dark, waiting for dawn. The next morning, Emma was still fast asleep when I left. I left a note, kissed her soft little forehead, and whispered, “Mommy will be back soon to pick you up.” But I never came back. On the way to meet Charles, the taxi driver drugged me. He took me to a desolate and wooded area, where he assaulted me. I woke up halfway through, screaming and fighting with every bit of strength I had. But he grabbed his belt and strangled me to death. When he was done, he buried me in a shallow grave. My body stayed in that cold and dark pit, but my soul lingered—trapped in this world, weighed down by a single and unrelenting thought. I couldn’t leave Emma behind.

My soul drifted back home. Emma had woken up and was quietly eating the breakfast I’d prepared for her. I didn’t know how much time I had left in this form, so I greedily drank in the sight of her, my beautiful and innocent little girl. I tried to burn every detail of her into my memory. Before long, Charles came home. As soon as he walked in, he asked, “Emma, where’s your mom?” Emma held up the note I’d left for her. “Mommy said she had something to do and would be back soon.” Charles took the note, read it with a deep frown, and crumpled it into a ball. He pulled out his phone and dialed my number. But by then, my phone was already switched off—taken by the monster who killed me. No one picked up. “Olivia, do you think this is going to stall the divorce? What, are you planning never to come back?” Charles scoffed bitterly, and his face was twisted with disgust and contempt. Emma flinched at the sound of his anger, shrinking back a little. Charles didn’t notice. He simply turned on his heel and left. And just like that, he brought Amelia home. Emma, though small, was incredibly perceptive. Amelia put on her sweetest and most gentle smile, but Emma stared at her with wary resistance. When Amelia reached out her hand, Emma shrank back, hiding behind Charles. But the man Emma trusted so deeply pulled her forward, shoving her in front of Amelia. “Emma, this is Auntie Amelia. Say hello.” Emma clutched her stuffed animal tightly, her voice timid and small. “Hello, Auntie Amelia.” I watched it all, my heart aching so deeply it felt like I might collapse. What made me even more uneasy was what came next. Charles got a call about a work trip—two days away in a neighboring city. Charles sighed, “Amelia, I’ll have to leave Emma in your care for the next two days.” Amelia agreed without hesitation, and her smile was unwavering. But the moment Charles walked out the door, her entire demeanor changed. Amelia treated Emma like a servant. She didn’t cook anything either—just ordered takeout, and only for herself. By nightfall, Emma hadn’t eaten a single bite. She sat curled up in a corner with tears welling up in her big eyes. Her little tummy growled from hunger. She was too young to understand such deliberate cruelty. Her voice quivered as she whispered, “Amelia, do you know where my mommy is? I miss Mommy.” Amelia let out a cold and mocking laugh. “Your mommy doesn’t want you anymore. You’d better behave, or things will get much worse for you.” Emma froze, and the words cut through her like a blade. Fear and sadness overwhelmed her, and she began to sob. “You’re lying. Mommy would never leave me! She wouldn’t!” “Shut up! You’re so noisy!” Amelia barked, and her patience snapped. When Emma wouldn’t stop crying, Amelia stormed over and grabbed her roughly, trying to clamp a hand over her mouth. Emma panicked, and in her desperation, she bit down on Amelia’s arm. Amelia shrieked in pain, and without thinking, she lashed out. The slap sent Emma stumbling backward. I watched in horror as my little girl fell and her head struck the sharp corner of the table. Her tiny body crumpled to the ground, and blood began to pool beneath her. Amelia stood there, wide-eyed and frozen. I fell to my knees beside Emma, and my screams echoed through the room. I reached for her over and over, but my hands passed uselessly through her, unable to hold her, unable to save her. And then I watched—helpless—as Amelia pulled herself together. She wiped away the blood with gloved hands, changed into my clothes, and stuffed Emma’s tiny body into a suitcase. She drove to an isolated forest on the outskirts of town, dumped Emma’s body, and went about her gruesome work. She gouged out Emma’s eyes, smashed her face with a rock, and poured acid over her small, fragile body to erase all traces. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. How could a pregnant woman commit such unspeakable evil? Amelia was a monster through and through. When she was finished, she burned the gloves and clothes, then sent a message to Charles: [Olivia just came back and took Emma away.] And Charles—fool that he was—believed her without question. He thought I was using our daughter as a pawn to delay the divorce. He never once doubted Amelia.   The sunlight pierced through my soul, snapping me out of my spiraling thoughts. Beside me, Charles and Amelia—the shameless pair—were still tangled up in each other, sound asleep. Suddenly, Charles’ phone rang from the nightstand. It was a call from one of his colleagues at the station. After answering, Charles quickly got up to wash and get ready. The noise roused Amelia. “Charles, are you leaving this early?” Charles replied, “Yeah, I need to follow up on the case from last night.” Amelia’s expression darkened for a moment before she composed herself again. As Charles slipped on his jacket, ready to leave, Amelia suddenly let out a pained gasp, clutching her stomach and dropping into a squat. “What’s wrong, Amelia?” Charles rushed back to her side, helping her onto the couch. Amelia sobbed, “Charles, I think there’s something wrong with the baby. My stomach really hurts. Can you take me to the hospital?” I saw through her act immediately. She was deliberately stalling for time, trying to stop him from going to the crime scene. But Charles, the gullible fool, fell for it in seconds. After only a brief hesitation, he helped her to her feet. “Let’s go now. Be careful.” My numb heart twisted painfully once more as I watched him treat Amelia like a precious treasure. Eight years ago, when my water broke at home, I’d dialed Charles’ number in the midst of agonizing contractions. Panicked and helpless, I’d told Charles what was happening. But he said coldly and dismissively, “Stop making such a big deal out of it. I’m at work. Call an ambulance yourself.” He hung up before I could say another word. Charles didn’t show up at the hospital until after Emma was born, and even then, his attention was solely on the baby. Not one word of concern for me. After that, I convinced myself that his work came first—that his dedication to his job was simply who he was. But now I knew the truth. I just wasn’t important enough. I followed them into the car. As they drove toward the hospital, Charles got another call from his colleague. He glanced at Amelia in the passenger seat and said, “My wife isn’t feeling well. I’m taking her to the hospital first. I’ll head over a bit later.” Amelia froze at his words. So did I. Recovering quickly, Amelia smiled coyly. “What did you just call me?” Charles flushed a little. “Once I get in touch with Olivia, I’ll divorce her immediately. So, Amelia, will you marry me?” “But I’m carrying my ex-husband’s child, Charles. I don’t deserve you.” “I don’t care,” Charles blurted, eager to reassure her. “I know that man tricked you. I swear I’ll treat this baby as my own.” Amelia looked up at him, and her eyes brimmed with gratitude. “Thank you, Charles.” Charles gazed back at her with a deep tenderness that made me want to gouge his eyes out. Eyes that couldn’t see good from evil weren’t worth keeping anyway. Just as I’d expected, after the hospital check-up, Amelia was perfectly fine. Pretending to feel guilty, she said softly, “I’m so sorry, Charles. I think I was just too nervous.” Charles smiled and tapped her playfully on the cheek. “Why are you apologizing? Your health always comes first.” After dropping Amelia back home, Charles finally headed to the crime scene. “How’s it looking?” he asked as he pulled on gloves and a mask, stepping under the police tape. “Not much to go on,” his colleague replied. “We only found part of a shoe print. The killer’s careful—feels like they’ve done this before.” Charles frowned slightly and started combing the area, searching for any clue. But there was nothing. On the way back to the station, his colleague turned to him and asked, “Is Olivia all right? I haven’t seen her in a while. I was hoping to snag another home-cooked meal sometime soon.”

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My name was Emilia Clarke. My husband, Logan Palmer’s mother, Diana Palmer, had a car accident and was in the emergency room. Logan was a lawyer. I called him over twenty times before he finally picked up. “What are you doing now? Rebecca has a situation, and I’m helping her. Stop making a fuss,” he snapped. Swallowing my hurt, I told him about the accident and asked him to transfer 100 thousand dollars. Instead of concern, I was met with anger. “Her accident has nothing to do with me. Don’t think you can wring money out of me. I’m busy!” Before I could respond, he hung up, and soon after, I received the devastating news—Diana didn’t make it. Three days later, I sat in the courtroom, my heart heavy as I watched my husband, the lawyer, passionately defend his first love, Rebecca West, who was charged with drunk driving. With his silver tongue, he argued for her innocence, claiming there wasn’t enough evidence to convict her. I felt utterly defeated. Once the trial ended, I approached Logan and demanded a divorce. He panicked. “My mom treated you so well! If you leave, she’ll be heartbroken!” I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly as I tossed the hospital bill and death certificate at him. I mused, “What a fool. He doesn’t even realize he’s lost his mother.” ***** When I received a call from the hospital, I was in shock. Just hours after Diana had come to my house to drop off Logan’s favorite food, she had been in a fatal accident. I rushed to the hospital, frantically calling Logan along the way. He was a busy lawyer, so it wasn’t unusual for him to ignore my calls, but this time was different. His mother was fighting for her life! After another failed attempt to reach him, I stormed into the emergency room, breathless, as I asked the nurse, “How is she?” The nurse sighed, “The patient is still in surgery, but the situation doesn’t look good. Please prepare yourself.” Panic surged through me, and I called Logan again. This time, he finally answered, but his tone was impatient. “Emilia, what’s with all the calls? Do you know how busy I am?” Before I could speak, a soft, frightened voice came through the line. “Logan, please don’t go. I’m really scared.” Logan rushed to reassure her. “It’s okay, I’m here. Those bad people won’t get to you.” He hadn’t spoken to me like that in ages. It felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head. My throat went dry. “What exactly are you busy with?” He clicked his tongue in annoyance. Even without seeing his face, I could sense his irritation. “Rebecca has a problem; someone’s trying to scam her. She was alone and scared, so she asked me for help. Can you please stop making a scene?” Again, it was Rebecca. In the month since her return, I had lost count of how many times I’d heard her name from Logan. Whether it was a plumbing issue at her house or her being followed by someone, he was always rushing to her aid. In Logan’s eyes, Rebecca was this delicate flower who never wanted to burden anyone. But to me, she seemed like a giant toddler, constantly invading my life. Almost all of Logan’s free time was spent on her. This was a recurring argument between us, one I had grown tired of. From the very beginning, Logan had promised me he wouldn’t be in contact with Rebecca, but as time went on, his patience wore thin. During our last argument, he had even said, “She’s in the past; stop overthinking everything. “If Rebecca and I had anything going on, would I even be marrying you?” The bitterness stung in my heart as I thought about his words. Now, as I prepared to tell him about Diana’s situation, I suddenly heard a dial tone. Logan had hung up on me! I quickly redialed, desperation creeping in with every unanswered ring. My heart sank with each failure to reach him. After what felt like an eternity of trying, the call finally connected. I rushed to spill the news, terrified he might hang up again. “Your mom’s in a car accident and still in surgery! You need to get here fast! “And I don’t have enough in my account to cover the bills; can you transfer 100 thousand dollars?” But to my shock, it wasn’t Logan who answered. Instead, I heard Rebecca’s soft, almost fragile voice, and the words that followed sent a wave of rage coursing through me. “Emilia, I know you want Logan to come back right away, but he’s really needed here. “Once everything settles down, I’ll return him to you, okay? “As for the money… I’d advise against trying to deceive Logan. Just the other day, I heard your mom asking you for 100 thousand dollars to help your brother buy a house.” Logan’s voice erupted in the background, furious and unyielding, “Emilia, you’re unbelievable! Your brother is just a parasite! “Your mom’s accident has nothing to do with me. Even if she dies, don’t think you can squeeze money out of me to support your family. Just leave me alone!”

The call was abruptly disconnected again. I couldn’t believe Logan would take Rebecca’s words at face value, mistaking his mother’s accident for my mother’s and that accident for something I’d concocted to get money for my brother’s house. Clutching a thick stack of hospital bills, I looked at the nurse waiting by the door, my frustration boiling over. But when I tried to call him again, I found I had been blocked. Panic set in; I felt like a chicken with its head cut off, trying every possible way to reach him, but nothing worked. Logan claimed to be busy, yet he didn’t seem to mind wasting time when he blocked me. His mother was in the emergency room! And he believed Rebecca, who had no proof of anything! I bit my tongue, fighting the urge to break down in front of everyone in the hospital. Now wasn’t the time to confront Logan. Nothing mattered more than Diana’s life. I reached out to a few friends, piecing together enough to borrow the money I needed, and rushed downstairs to settle the bills. When I returned to the waiting area outside the operating room, my back was soaked with sweat. Clenching my fists, I stared at the glowing red light above the door, praying fervently that Diana would pull through. Diana had always treated me like her daughter, especially knowing my family favored my brother over me. Even after her divorce from Logan’s father, she raised him on her own without being overly possessive. Diana respected our privacy, living in her own place and visiting us every weekend, always bringing us delicious homemade meals. This time, she had come over because Logan mentioned he loved her cooking during our last call, and she had remembered. Diana had just delivered her dishes, and on her way back, tragedy struck. It was infuriating to think that our home was so close, just a quick turn away. I heard from a kind soul who had driven Diana to the hospital that the other driver was likely drunk and speeding, which sent Diana flying from her vehicle, blood everywhere. As I recalled the nurse’s earlier comments, an unsettling feeling gripped me. When the doctor finally emerged from the operating room, shaking his head and sighing, my heart dropped. “The surgery was a bit too late. We did everything we could. The patient is still conscious, but… you should go in and talk to her,” he said gently. That last thread of hope snapped, and I felt my legs give way beneath me. I collapsed to the floor, tears streaming down my face, unable to hold back any longer. But I couldn’t afford to waste time. I stumbled back to my feet and made my way into the room. Diana was hooked up to a multitude of tubes and machines. Just hours earlier, she had been smiling at me, promising to bring me her homemade desserts next time. Now, she lay in the hospital bed, her skin a pale shade of blue. When Diana saw me, she managed to force a smile, though it was a struggle. “Emilia, you’re here? Where’s Logan?”

I didn’t know how to respond, my heart heavy with anger at Logan’s lack of trust. All I could manage was a weak smile. “Diana, Logan’s at work; he can’t get away right now.” Diana’s smile faded slightly, and I couldn’t tell if she believed me. She motioned for me to come closer. As I moved in, I noticed her eyes were red-rimmed, too. “Emilia, it’s Logan who’s at fault, and I know it. “Every time I visited your place lately, he was never home. How busy could he really be?” Her words flowed smoothly, and her face seemed to regain a bit of color. My heart tightened as I realized this was likely a fleeting moment of clarity before death, and it made me even sadder. Diana noticed my distress and reached out with her almost cold hand to wipe away my tears. “Once I’m gone, who’s going to keep that little brat Logan in line? “You’re a good girl, and you deserve to be happy. Don’t settle for less—divorce him. “It’s my fault; I never thought he’d turn out just like his father…” A single tear slipped down her cheek, and her hand fell limply to her side. I bit my lip, but the sobs broke free. “Diana!” The machines around her flatlined. I realized I would never again taste her delicious desserts. Later, as I went to Diana’s place to sort through her belongings, I stumbled upon a letter she had written for me. It was tucked away on her desk. I carefully opened it and discovered the truth—Logan’s biological father had cheated, too. Diana had endured a lifetime of heartache, and only when Logan began to mature did her life seem to brighten. She had always despised disloyalty in love, yet here she was, having devoted her life to raising her son, only to see him repeat the same mistakes.   I helped Diana’s relatives organize her funeral. Perhaps it was the countless tears I had shed, but as I looked at her black-and-white photo, I found I could no longer cry. During the service, a relative asked why Logan wasn’t there. This time, I decided not to cover for him. “Logan’s busy dealing with his first love’s trouble,” I replied, the words tasting bitter in my mouth. Diana’s uncle, Vincent Palmer, was furious and immediately called Logan. “Logan, your mother is in trouble. Where the hell are you?” There was a long pause on the other end before Logan finally asked, “Uncle, is Emilia with you?” Vincent shot a glance at me and answered, “Yeah.” “Could you please hand the phone to her?” Logan requested his tone deceptively calm. Vincent hesitated but ultimately passed the phone to me. I furrowed my brow, curious to hear what he had to say. As soon as I said “Hello,” he unleashed his fury. “Emilia, have you no shame? Are you paying my uncle to play along with your little act? “Your mother’s dead, and I can’t believe you’d curse mine after all she did for you! What happened to you? You’re not fit to even touch Rebecca’s shoelaces! “If it weren’t for my mom’s wishes, I’d have divorced you in a heartbeat! Don’t bother calling me again; I’ve got serious things going on with Rebecca!” Before I could respond, he hung up. What Logan didn’t realize was that Vincent had switched on the speakerphone. His rant played out loud for everyone present, and relatives were left in shock at his words. Vincent nearly had a heart attack from the anger, repeatedly cursing Logan as a cold-hearted ingrate. To everyone else, Logan had always been the epitome of a good kid—handsome, smart, successful. But now, as his mother lay dead, he was acting like this. It was utterly heartless! As I listened to my relatives berate Logan, I remained silent, my eyes glued to Diana’s portrait at the front of the room. She wore a gentle smile. It was captured back when Logan and I had just gotten married, and I had taken the photo. I vividly remembered that day, how Diana had clasped our hands and earnestly told us to cherish each other. Diana looked at Logan and warned him that if Logan ever mistreated me, I should tell her, and she would make sure to set him straight. Back then, Logan had retorted, “Mom, why would I ever treat her badly?” Diana had hushed him playfully, saying, “Right now is one thing, but who knows what the future holds?” None of us imagined her words would come back to haunt us. Lost in thought, I barely noticed someone in the crowd suddenly ask, “Hasn’t that reckless driver shown up yet?”   When I heard someone mention the driver responsible for the accident, I couldn’t help but scoff. This was the person who had taken Diana from us, and yet she hadn’t shown her face even once. I found out at the police station that she had been bailed out by a friend. As they left, they just said, “See you in court.” I was furious. When I got back, I contacted a lawyer friend and asked him to help me file a lawsuit. He was surprised and asked why I wasn’t asking Logan for help. After all, Logan was a top-notch lawyer in the field, and if he represented Diana, he could surely put that reckless driver behind bars. I forced a wry smile and didn’t tell him I couldn’t reach Logan, who didn’t even believe Diana was in an accident. I made up some excuses about Logan being busy with another case. But three days later, when we arrived at the courthouse, I was shocked to see Logan standing there with Rebecca. She looked terrified, practically glued to his side, and Logan didn’t push her away; instead, he was comforting her. Perhaps our stares were too obvious because they both looked up and froze when they saw me and my friend in our formal attire. “What are you doing here? This isn’t a place for you to mess around!” Logan frowned, annoyance flashing in his eyes. He must have thought I was there to confront him on purpose. I shot him a cold glance but simply pulled my friend toward the entrance of the courtroom. Seeing me make my way to the door, Logan suddenly rushed over to block my path. “Are you the plaintiff in the case against Rebecca?” Then, it clicked for him. “So, the car accident you mentioned was this one! Emilia, you can drop the lawsuit!” I glared at him, my anger boiling over. “What are you talking about? Drop the lawsuit? Are you out of your mind?” Logan seemed to hit a nerve, and a smug smile spread across his face. He said, “Come on, isn’t your mom just trying to pull a fast one? She’s been in poor health for a while, right? Trying to score a house for your brother? Too bad she picked Rebecca to mess with! “Rebecca has already hired me as her lawyer, so you can forget about your little plan!” In a flash, I slapped him hard, and his head snapped to the side. I could hardly contain the rage that was building inside me. I mused, “How could he believe Rebecca’s side without any investigation? How dare she suggest Diana was faking? Looking at the face of someone I once loved, I felt a wave of disgust wash over me. I roared, “Logan, when did I ever say the person in the accident was my mom? Have you ever visited your mom once during all this time?” He covered his face, a hint of panic creeping into his expression. Rebecca rushed over to shield him. “What’s wrong with you? How can you hit Logan? “Logan, don’t listen to her! She knows how much your mom means to you and is just trying to mess with your head. “Didn’t you tell me your mom usually only goes out on weekends? “That day was a weekday; it couldn’t have been her! After this is done, I’ll go with you to visit her.” Logan’s face softened for a moment, but when he turned to me, his eyes were ice cold. He said, “Emilia, your intentions are downright malicious! If it hadn’t been for Rebecca, I might have fallen for your tricks. “Last time, you and my uncle were in on it together, and now you’re cursing my mom? Just wait and see; your family’s little scheme won’t work!” He spat before walking away. But I barely heard him; my mind flooded with the image of Diana’s lifeless face covered by a white sheet. I couldn’t believe it—the driver who had killed Diana was Rebecca. I lost control and lunged at her, grabbing her by the throat. “Emilia, you’ve lost it!” Logan shouted, grabbing my arm and throwing me to the ground.

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It was on our tenth anniversary that I discovered the secret my son and husband had been holding. I learned that it was no coincidence that there were always spectacles on our anniversaries. They were also caused by my son to keep me from interrupting my husband’s rendezvous with his first love. I stood outside the door and heard my son, who I loved dearly, saying in a clear sound, “Dad, go and see Ms. Grant. As usual, I’ll stay and watch over my mom. “It’s getting tiresome every year, and it’s all my mom’s fault. She’s not any younger anymore. Why does she still want to celebrate your anniversary? “Dad, I want Ms. Grant to be my mom. I’m sure she’s not as melodramatic as my mom.” It was on the same day that I brought up divorce to my husband, who came home late wearing perfume from a strange woman. They all forgot that I am not only a wife but also a mother. But first of all, I am an independent self. The sound in the room gradually died down. I stood outside, feeling as if I had been drenched head to toe with an icy plunge, numbing my bones. But I was still thinking at that moment that perhaps I was too exhausted and heard it wrong. At a moment’s distraction, the cup slipped from my hand, and the hot milk spilled all over the floor. Some even splashed on my skin, burning my hand. Crack. The door was opened from the inside. My son, Ethan Skye, looked at me, and his eyes flashed with a hint of panic. Then, he grumbled, “What are you doing? Eavesdropping on us? “Dad is right. You always sneak up on us as if we were thieves.” At the age of eight, Ethan was quite tall. Not only did he have a fifty percent similarity with Corey Skye’s looks, but he also had a cold temperament just like Corey. Seeing Ethan furrow his eyebrows in disgust, I recalled how Corey used to act the same when he was impatient. However, upon closer reflection, Corey had never shown any patience with me. I just never noticed it myself. Ethan, who was so gentle and thoughtful as a child, had gradually become his father in spirit. I suppressed the waving emotions in my heart and looked at him silently. For a moment, I wanted to get angry and question them. But I found it pointless. I managed to give a smile to Ethan. “I just got here, and I almost fell. But I didn’t hear anything.” “Really?” Ethan glanced at me warily, confirming that there was no trace of anger in my demeanor before he let out a soft huff. “Clean up this mess. Where’s my hot milk?” I crouched down cautiously and picked up the shattered pieces of glass, trying hard to hold back my tears. Suddenly, I felt a sense of powerlessness. “I’ll ask Mary to fix milk for you. I’m a little tired.” Ethan suddenly got enraged and accused me, “I know you’re unhappy because I’m sick today, making you unable to go out on a date with my father. “Can you stop being so petty? “Fixing milk has always been your thing. How can Mary know how hot I want my milk to be?” Ethan had poor digestion, and I always prepared hot milk at 113 degrees Fahrenheit. Not only that, I took care of him in all matters. But he still called me petty. I cleaned the debris and suppressed my tears. Then, I got up and left without looking at him. Following my action was Ethan’s furious slamming of the door. Back in my room, I turned on my computer, searched the divorce agreement templates, and prepared my own divorce agreement. At that very moment, a news update popped up, revealing photographs of the CEO of the Skye Group dining with his childhood sweetheart. Corey must have been engrossed in having fun and didn’t notice the reporters. In the photograph, he and a charming woman smiled at each other. I had never seen him smile so genuinely. That woman was indeed enchanting and delicate, like a porcelain doll. Meanwhile, my weary and expressionless face was reflected in the mirror beside me. Our parents arranged my marriage with Corey, and we didn’t have much choice. I resisted, but it proved futile. Ultimately, our wedding was hastened due to unforeseen circumstances. For that very reason, he missed out on his childhood sweetheart. I still remember the day he said to me that he would move and focus on our lives. I believed his promise. Thus, for ten years after marrying Corey, I dedicated myself as an industrious housewife. I lived day in and day out by taking care of Ethan and doing house chores. Eroded by the trivia of life, I lost my edges and my beauty. As the printer’s hum ceased abruptly, there came the sound of a door opening downstairs. With a hint of anger and irritation in his voice, Corey asked, “Where is Lena?” Coincidentally, the divorce agreement was printed out. I held it and made my way out.

In the living room, Mary and the other servants lowered their heads and remained silent. Opposite them, Corey gently patted Ethan’s back, who had been coughing for what seemed like an eternity, and his face now was flushed with red. Corey’s face, which was as cold as ever, was brimming with frostiness. His brows were furrowed as if a tempest was being brewed. I clenched the divorce papers in my hand and stepped slowly down. “What happened?” Ethan felt much better. He sat on the sofa, giving me an aggrieved and angry stare. Sitting next to Ethan and rubbing his eyebrows, Corey reprimanded me as soon as he saw me, “Do you know that the burning milk choked Ethan? “What’s so hard about boiling milk? Why did you let others handle it instead of yourself? “If I were as casual at work as you, I would have gone bankrupt a long time ago. ” I looked at Corey’s impeccable attire without a single wrinkle to be seen. His inner and outerwear, as well as his tie and socks, were all carefully coordinated in color. I smiled. Corey rarely spoke to me so much. The only exception was when he rebuked me, just like now. In fact, when he and I first got married, we also had some good times together. Corey had a reserved personality that rarely allowed for displays of emotion. He always exuded an unwavering sense of discipline that seemed to be innately devoid of romanticism. But he was very generous with me in material terms. He respected me and cared for me enough. He also treated me with dignity on big occasions. Although our union was void of love, at least we remained respectful to each other. With Ethan being born, our relationship grew even closer. Corey even smiled more. During that time of postpartum recovery, he even put aside his company’s affairs to look after me. I have to admit that I was deeply touched. Later, I just wanted to focus on my family. As I spent more and more time on Corey and Ethan, I began to feel more and more tired. But now it seems that he has never loved me. He just did what a husband should do for his wife. He used to care for me, but now he wanted to discipline me. His affection would only be given to the woman he missed out on when he was young. When I thought this through, the reprimand that I could bear in the past sounded extremely harsh. I even felt the father and son who wore the same expression on the sofa very annoying. I sat on the single couch next to them and looked at them. Seeing me silent, Corey seemed even more enraged. He knocked on the table with a gloomy face and continued in a tone filled with forbearing anger, “It’s just an anniversary. But you took it out on Ethan. “Lena, you are really melodramatic.” My heart felt pain for a moment, but my expression remained unchanged. I put the divorce agreement on the table and pushed it forward. “Have a look. Sign it if there is no problem.” Corey’s lecture came to an abrupt end. He stared at the divorce agreement, first stunned, then angry, and finally relaxed. With a sneer, he crumpled the divorce papers and tossed them into the trash can next to him. “I can understand why you’re unhappy today and doing this. “But I’ll let you think it over. If you still want a divorce tomorrow, I’ll be happy to give you what you want.” “He said he was happy to give me what I wanted.” My eyelids quivered as I thought of his words. So, he had been wanting a divorce for a long time. He was only mad because I brought it up, which made him look bad. Corey turned to leave in anger. Ethan chased after him and said as he walked, “Dad, wait for me. I also think my mom has gone too far. “You should teach her a lesson.”

As they walked away, Mary cautiously approached. “Mrs. Skye, do you want me to help you explain? I’ll just say that you didn’t feel well today. That’s why you didn’t do it yourself. “You can apologize to them. Mr. Skye and Ethan will certainly forgive you.” Feeling ironic, I looked up with a chuckle. “Ethan is eight years old. He isn’t a baby anymore. Why does he need me to look after him? “I made myself pretty clear. I want to divorce Corey. From now on, I don’t care what they do.” After saying that, I went upstairs to pack my things. I only packed some jewelry left by my mom and clothes I bought by myself. Putting my things in one suitcase, I left without looking back once. Corey must have found out about it very soon. On that same evening, he made an uncommonly rare effort to call me three times. I didn’t answer him. I just sent him a screenshot of the news I saw last night, which had yet to be removed online. In an instant, the calling stopped. Five minutes later, the caller became Ethan. He was a kid and thus, we had not intended for him to be exposed to electronic devices too early. But Ethan inherited Corey’s intelligence and self-control. He could control himself when he used the phone. Considering the safety issues, Corey and I tailored a phone for him. I still recalled Ethan immediately saving his number into my contact list upon receiving the phone. He also changed the emergency contact in my phone to him. He took my hand and looked at me with a serious look. “Mom, come to me when you are in danger. I am a man. I can protect you for my dad.” Immersed in my memory, I pressed to answer it. Instantly, Ethan’s angry and sharp sound came over, “Lena, you liar! “You eavesdropped on our conversation. How could you do that? Liar! “I asked Dad to date Ms. Grant. You can be mad at me. Why are you mad at Dad?” “What did you call me?” My heart felt like it had been struck by a big drum, and my body shook with pain. I was disappointed and enraged at Ethan. But he was, after all, the child I gave birth to. He was the last person in this world who was connected with me by blood. Little did I expect that the words spoken by my dear son would hurt me so deeply. Ethan seemed to have never expected that of me. He paused and then snorted. His tone carried a hint of arrogance and confidence. “Ms. Grant is my father’s old friend. They are just ordinary friends. If Ms. Grant were you, she wouldn’t be so jealous. “If you still want me and Dad to forgive you, you should apologize to Ms. Grant and Dad. I will pretend that nothing happened. “In my heart, you are still my mom.” I smiled, but my heart ached as if countless needles were continuously piercing in. My limbs felt like they had been plunged into an icy abyss. Ethan was my son, but he took an outsider’s side. I pinched my palm to stop myself from breaking down. “Ethan,” I spoke in a trembling voice. “I won’t apologize, and I don’t want to be your mom. “I’ve made up my mind to divorce your dad. From now on, we are strangers.” “Well, I don’t want you to be my mom, anyway.” Ethan’s tender voice carried an unyielding determination. “I hope you will honor your promise!” With that, he hung up the phone with a sharp click.

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After seven years of a secret relationship, Teresa Fields’ boyfriend was promoted to vice president of the company. But instead of a proposal, she found a pair of black stockings in his car, left behind by an intern. The girl called him right in front of her, her voice sweet and coy. “Mr. Barron, I need to take a half-day sick leave tomorrow. My boyfriend… went too far, and now, I’m not feeling too well. I think I might be injured.” Later, he used overtime as an excuse to brush her off, only to turn around and openly flirt with the intern on Instagram. Without a second thought, Teresa deleted his contact information and blocked him, wiping out the last seven years of their relationship. She left behind only one message: [We’re done.] And then, she vanished from his world completely. When she reappeared, she was a famous heiress, walking beside her elegant and refined fiancé. He bowed to her, his eyes red, pleading, “Teresa, I know I was wrong. Please come back to me.” The man who had once seemed so out of reach immediately stepped in, shielding her from him. “Mr. Barron, you should be addressing her as Mrs. Crawford now.” When the plane landed, Teresa turned on her phone. As expected, she received a call from her mother, Laura Fields. “You promised to think for half a month about marrying Mr. Chandler. So…” “I agree,” Teresa replied, without slowing down as she grabbed her suitcase. Her tone was firm. There was silence over the phone. After half a minute, Laura finally spoke again, “Are you sure.” “Yes.” “You should have broken up with that poor guy a long time ago.” Laura sounded satisfied and was about to hang up, but Teresa spoke again, “But you’ll need to wait another week.” “What, have you changed your mind already?” “No, don’t worry about it. Just do as I say.” With that, Teresa ended the call and opened the chat with her boyfriend, Clarence Barron, sending a message: [I’ve landed. Where’s your car?] It wasn’t until she was halfway through her taxi ride that she finally received his reply: [I’m working late. Can’t pick you up. Take a cab.] Teresa’s expression didn’t change as she closed the chat and locked her phone. This was the fifteenth time in the past two months that Clarence had used overtime as an excuse. They worked at the same company. Though their positions were far apart, they still kept in touch. Teresa knew better than anyone that Clarence didn’t have any new projects lately. The only change in recent months was the arrival of a new intern. Her name was Janice Gordon, a young woman in her early twenties, as charming as a flower. The most impressive thing about Janice was that on her very first day at work, she proudly displayed a photo of herself with Alfred and Laura Gordon on her desk. They were the founders of Gordon Group, worth billions of dollars. Janice shared the surname with Alfred, so the connection was obvious. Teresa leaned her head against the window, watching the lights outside blur past. It was beautiful and vibrant but fleeting, just like the love she had given over the past seven years. Her phone buzzed, pulling her back to the present. It was a message from her colleague, Shirley Archer. It was a screenshot of Janice’s Instagram. In the picture, Janice looked youthful and playful, puckering her lips while covering her face, adorable to the extreme. The caption read, “The theme of today after work is overtime and butterflies in my stomach.” The first like on the post was from her boyfriend, Clarence, the vice president. Teresa stared at the screen, lost in thought, when Shirley immediately followed up with a message, calling Clarence and Janice a jerk and a shameless girl. [I purposely went to Clarence’s office earlier to ask why he wasn’t at the airport to pick you up. Guess what? I found Janice in his office! You won’t believe what she said. “Teresa is an adult. She should know to give us space.”] [I swear, I wanted to slap her across the face and tattoo homewrecker on her forehead.] Teresa replied in a calm tone: [Don’t get upset. It’s not worth it.] Shirley quickly replied: [How can you not be upset? That’s your boyfriend of seven years. What is she, a nobody?] Seeing that Teresa didn’t respond, Shirley kept typing: [Teresa, seriously, are you okay? Don’t bottle up your anger. If you’re angry, just let it out. Don’t hurt yourself by holding it in.] Teresa sighed softly and replied: [I’m fine.] Then, she put her phone away. She didn’t tell Shirley that, in truth, she wasn’t angry anymore because she had already been angry. She’d been angry the first time Clarence had used overtime as an excuse to create opportunities to be alone with Janice. She had been angry when he’d stood her up and failed to even give her a heads-up, leaving her to wait, sometimes in heavy rain. She had been angry when, just a few days ago, at a company party, she had been handling difficult clients for him while he secretly sneaked off to hook up with Janice in the lounge. By then, Teresa’s heart had already been sinking, little by little, into a pit of despair. Now, watching Clarence openly flirt with Janice, she had become numb to it all. Teresa, who had once loved Clarence with all her heart, was fading, bit by bit, over the past two months. And tonight, her decision to break up was final. But Clarence still hadn’t noticed.

Clarence didn’t return until the early hours of the morning, by which time Teresa had already fallen asleep. She was a light sleeper, and as soon as he stepped through the door, she heard him. His footsteps weren’t heavy. He seemed to be trying to be as quiet as possible, not wanting to disturb her. Finally, he stopped by the bed, leaned over, and kissed the back of her neck gently. “Can’t sleep?” Teresa’s eyelashes fluttered, but she didn’t open her eyes. Clarence chuckled, the sound vibrating lightly in his chest. “So, you’re mad at me for not picking you up today.” His arm slid around her from behind, his hand slipping under her nightshirt. Teresa finally opened her eyes. “You didn’t shower.” “You don’t like it?” Clarence teased his voice full of affection. He reluctantly let go and sat up. “Well, fine.” His footsteps moved away, and Teresa turned over, watching his tall, confident figure disappear into the bathroom. His steps were light. His mood seemed good. She wasn’t sure if it was because he had come home to see her or if it was due to the flirtations that had taken place at the office earlier that evening. Teresa gave a bitter laugh. It was probably the latter. Perhaps even Clarence had forgotten, but Teresa remembered clearly. Seven years ago, when they first got together, just a simple “Come pick me up” from her was enough for him to ride his bike across half the city and show up downstairs in the middle of the night. In winter, with the cold wind biting, his hands had gotten frostbite. She felt both heartbroken and guilty, asking him why he didn’t buy gloves. He’d immediately replied, “I’m saving money to buy you a branded down jacket.” It was that one sentence that made Teresa cry. Clarence, in a flurry, had wiped her tears away while comforting her, “Once I make it big, I won’t let you suffer even a little.” He did become successful, but the promise he made back then had long been forgotten along the way. The sound of running water from the bathroom stopped. Teresa felt the bed sink beside her, and his warm body pressed up against her back. He expertly pulled down the strap of her nightshirt. His needs had always been high, and even after seven years together, he hadn’t lost interest. The past two months had been no different. But this time, Teresa’s body tensed, and she instinctively pulled away from him. “Stop it.” Clarence froze. “What’s wrong?” “I’m not feeling well.” “Oh, period again?” Clarence didn’t remember when her period was, so he didn’t realize that in the span of just one month, she had claimed to be on twice. In fact, ever since that day when she had found a pair of black stockings in his car, Teresa had developed a deep resistance to such things. The irony was that, at the time, she didn’t even know the woman was Janice. On the road, Clarence had even answered Janice’s call right in front of her. The phone was on speaker, and Clarence’s first words were. “It’s after work hours. I’m with my family. Get to the point.” Janice, over the phone, had been clearly stunned before she spoke in a pitiful tone, “Mr. Barron, I need to take a sick day tomorrow.” “You’ll need to provide a medical certificate.” “I will. I’m going to see a doctor. My boyfriend… went too far, and now, I’m not feeling well. I think I might be injured.” Teresa had been shocked at Janice’s bluntness at the time. But later, when she thought back on it, the disgust had only deepened. The two of them had been flirting right in front of her, enjoying the thrill of cheating under her very nose. In the daze, Clarence had already turned her face toward him. In the darkness, everything seemed to fade away, leaving only his deep eyes staring intently at her. Teresa couldn’t stand that look. She turned her head away. “I said I’m not feeling well…” But Clarence held her chin, his fingers lightly brushing over her rosy lips. “There’s more than one way to do this, and this isn’t our first time. No need to be shy, right?” Teresa’s body went rigid. In the past, whenever he wanted, she would do everything she could to please him. She was willing to do anything for the man she loved. But everything had changed without her even realizing it. Now, looking back, she only felt foolish. If she kept going down this path, she wouldn’t even be able to respect herself anymore.

Teresa ultimately rejected Clarence. Clarence didn’t press her, though he was confused. He didn’t ask any further questions, choosing instead to think that Teresa was just in a bad mood due to her period. The next day, while having lunch in the company cafeteria, Teresa suddenly told Shirley, “Shirley, I’ve resigned. My last day is in a week.” Shirley was caught off guard, her hand trembling slightly, but she quickly recovered and said, “It’s a good idea to get a new job. Changing the environment can make a difference. “With your skills, if you hadn’t spent all these years helping Clarence, you’d probably have been more than just a department manager by now.” Shirley was the one who knew best about the past between them. Over the years, Teresa had kept her relationship with Clarence private to avoid suspicion. She had even passed up two promotions, always listening to Clarence’s advice. He’d told her not to rush. He’d once said that with his salary of millions of dollars, he could support her even if she decided to quit her job. Those words had once given Teresa a great sense of security, but now, in hindsight, they felt nothing but bitter and empty. “By the way, where are you going to work?” Shirley casually asked. Teresa poked at her food, no longer enjoying it. “I don’t have a new job lined up.” This time, Shirley disagreed. “Quitting without another job lined up? That’s risky.” Teresa didn’t respond. Since the decision was already made, Shirley didn’t want to make things uncomfortable for her. “It’s fine. Take some time off, and when you’re feeling better, you can look for a new job.” Teresa suddenly looked up, her eyes clear and calm as she met Shirley’s gaze. “Shirley, haven’t you thought about it? I’m quitting to go back and take over the family business.” As soon as the words left her mouth, Shirley burst out laughing. “Teresa, I didn’t know you had such a good sense of humor!” Teresa smiled, too, and then looked down and continued poking at her food, not saying anything else. Her clothes, shoes, and jewelry… there was nothing on her that looked valuable. Not only Shirley but even Clarence had never doubted her claim of having an ordinary background. After finishing their meal, they were about to leave when suddenly, there was a commotion in the corner of the cafeteria. Teresa looked in the direction everyone was staring, and her gaze immediately froze. It was Clarence, holding a woman in his arms, rushing out. He held her so tightly that Teresa couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of déjà vu, as if the woman in his arms was his girlfriend. As they passed by, Teresa saw the woman’s face clearly. It was Janice. She was crying uncontrollably, her face pressed against Clarence’s chest, her tears soaking his white shirt. Teresa instinctively opened her mouth, Clarence’s name almost slipping out, but in the end, she held back. At that moment, when Clarence looked down at Janice, Teresa saw nothing but urgency and concern in his eyes. He didn’t even notice her standing right there. Teresa turned her gaze away, her mind blank for a few seconds. The old Clarence wouldn’t have let any other girl sit on the back of his bike. She had once witnessed him refuse someone. He said, “This is my girlfriend’s. She doesn’t like sharing things with others.” But now, he was holding another woman in his arms. “What’s wrong with Janice?” “Looks like she slipped in the cafeteria and sprained her ankle.” People around them were gossiping. Shirley overheard and rolled her eyes. “She just sprained her ankle. Why is she crying like that? Anyone would think she lost her mom. What a drama queen.” Teresa stood silently, her gaze unconsciously falling on her lower legs. During a recent business trip, she had slipped on the stairs and twisted her ankle. She even sent Clarence a photo of it. She had also sent him a message: [I’m not feeling well.] Clarence didn’t reply until the next morning: [Drink more water.] She wasn’t even sure if he had looked at the photo. Otherwise, how could he have responded with such a bland message? “Do you think Mr. Barron has fallen for Janice?” “Looks like it. Tsk, tsk, our company’s top bachelor won’t be available anymore.” “But the top bachelor is Mr. Crawford, not Mr. Barron.” “Mr. Crawford? Don’t even dream. He’s on the wealth list. We’re not even in the same league.” The crowd eventually dispersed, gossiping in pairs, leaving Teresa still standing where she was. What kept replaying in her mind was the sight of Clarence holding Janice, his concern so obvious, and the whispers from those around her. The saddest thing, perhaps, wasn’t her heartbreak. It was that no one in the world even knew about it.

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I was hospitalized for a week because of my miscarriage. Before I was discharged from the hospital, Zach finally showed up. Melanie was beside him, holding his arm intimately, and said shyly, “Winona, Zach is going to hold a celebration party for me tonight to celebrate my pregnancy. You must come! After all, I can get pregnant thanks to Zach’s help.” Seeing that I didn’t say anything, Zach said impatiently, “You lost your baby, and you don’t allow Melanie to get pregnant? “Winona, how can you become so vicious? “No matter what, you must be there tonight!” That night, I attended the banquet in mourning clothes, which surprised everyone. “You continue. My husband successfully donated sperm to Melanie, and I am commemorating my baby. I won’t affect you.” When I walked into the banquet hall holding my baby’s portrait, the whole audience was silent. Everyone consciously made way for me. Melanie’s friend boldly stopped me and asked, “Who are you? Melanie and her husband are celebrating their three-month pregnancy. What do you mean by dressing like this? ” I ignored her, turned around, asked the workers to put the signboards and wreaths in place, and said loudly, “It’s not easy for Melanie to get pregnant, and it is even harder for my husband. “Zach worked hard for three months to make his friend’s widow pregnant and accompanied Melanie every day to have a baby. Even when I had a miscarriage at five months pregnant, he didn’t come to the hospital to see me. What a great love! I’m really moved by them.” The signboards were printed with Zach’s records of donating sperm to Melanie, as well as their intimate photos. The hall was immediately in chaos. “Oh my God. Such explosive news? So they are not a couple?” The commotion in the front hall quickly attracted the two of them. Melanie nestled in Zach’s arms and cried. “Winona, I just want a child. Do you have to slander me and Zach like this? I understand that you are in a bad mood because you lost your baby, but it’s not my fault. You are going too far!” Zach wiped her tears with a look of pity and looked up at me with disapproval in his eyes. “Winona, you’ve been pregnant before, and you know how hard it is to be pregnant. How could you provoke her like this? “Melanie has given so much for this child, and you treat her like this. You’re so vicious! “Melanie’s husband is like a brother to me. Now that he’s gone, it’s only natural for me to take care of Melanie. You should apologize to Melanie!” I sneered, “If her husband knew his wife was pregnant with his friend’s child, he would probably be furious. Zach, did your good friend who died early know that she was your first love?” After I finished speaking, Zach looked guilty. He argued evasively. “Winona, everything is a misunderstanding. It’s good that you vent it out. Stop making trouble. Just go home, and I’ll be with you tonight, okay?” After that, he turned around and asked people to remove the signboards and explained to the guests. “My wife just had a miscarriage. She was in a bad mood and said the wrong thing. Don’t misunderstand her. Sorry to bother you.” He defined my behavior with just a few simple words. I pushed his hand away and said coldly, “Since the gift has been delivered, I will not disturb you three. Remember to tell Melanie to be careful. Don’t be locked in the kitchen and have a miscarriage like me!”

Zach chased after me. Before he could speak, a woman’s delicate voice cried out in pain behind him. “Zach, don’t worry about me. Go comfort Winona.” Zach struggled for a second. “Winona, be good. Melanie is having a hard time because of her pregnancy. Go home.” Then he went back, picked up Melanie, and ran towards the elevator, looking panicked. “Get out of the way!” He pushed me away. The pain in my lower abdomen reminded me that my husband once again chose to hurt me for another woman. The elevator door slowly closed in front of me, but I didn’t miss the flash of pride and malice in Melanie’s eyes. I went home. The dining table was full of pregnancy books, and every page was carefully marked. The notebook next to the book recorded every detail of the precautions for pregnant women at every stage. This love was for me before Melanie asked Zach to donate sperm to her. The latest note was yesterday, which read: [Winona’s miscarriage scared Melanie. I have to pay attention to Melanie’s mood these days.] [Melanie wants to invite Winona to the party. I need to pay special attention to Winona tomorrow and don’t let her make trouble.] [Melanie wants to eat Meatball. Remember to ask Winona to make it for her tomorrow.] I was the protagonist of this note before. Zach recorded the growth of our baby and was looking forward to the baby. But now, he was only looking forward to Melanie’s child. I suddenly thought of the day when I had a miscarriage. Melanie showed off to me excitedly with the prenatal examination report. “Winona, Zach went through a lot to donate sperm for me. You have to take good care of him.” Zach looked at her with a doting face and ordered me to make soup for her. “Make something nutritious for Melanie. She is only three months pregnant. You need to take good care of her.” I couldn’t stop nausea and vomiting because of the smell in the kitchen. But no matter how I begged, Zach ignored me. He locked the kitchen door and said condescendingly, “Be good. You are also a pregnant woman. How can you have no empathy? Don’t come out before you finish.” Halfway through the dish, I felt severe abdominal pain and begged him to let me go to the hospital. But he threw me a bottle of expired anti-inflammatory medicine. “Don’t pretend, Winona. Take medicine if you are sick. Don’t disturb me and Melanie.” Melanie turned up the speakers to the maximum and pestered Zach to dance with her. Thinking of this, I wiped my tears, called the lawyer, and made an appointment for a divorce consultation the next day.

The next morning, Zach came home reeking of perfume. He hugged me from behind and whispered, “Baby, don’t be sad. We will have kids again. The most important thing now is that you recover as soon as possible and then take care of Melanie with me.” He coaxed me with a soft voice. “I bought you your favorite soup. Drink some.” In Zach’s eyes, I was someone who could be coaxed with a bowl of soup. He hurt me and then coaxed me. Zach knew this well over the years. But I was really tired. I pushed him away with nausea. “I just had a miscarriage because of Melanie, but you held a banquet to celebrate her pregnancy and asked me to take care of her. Zach, do you really think you are right?” He was stunned for a moment, and then his expression changed. “Winona, this is your attitude? I bought you breakfast early in the morning and came back to coax you, and you talked to me like this?” His cell phone suddenly lit up, and a nursery rhyme sounded. That was the exclusive ringtone he had set for Melanie. “Baby, if you’re not hungry, take some rest.” Zach left in a hurry with his phone. The door closed heavily, and the room fell into silence. The door panel was not soundproof, and the sound of him singing nursery rhymes to Melanie pierced my heart like countless knives. Before I was about to leave, Zach had just hung up the phone. Seeing that I was going out, he asked in confusion, “Where are you going? Melanie wants to eat cake. You can stop by the store in the West District to buy one cake. If you want to eat, buy two cakes.” I pressed the door handle, turned back, and said calmly, “Zach, let’s get a divorce.” He frowned and sighed, rubbing his temples. “Are you done? If you have anything to say, wait until you come back with the cake. Come back quickly. Melanie will be anxious if she waits for a long time.” I raised my voice and repeated it again. “I said I want a divorce.” Zach finally took my words seriously. He looked me up and down for a long time with a scrutinizing look in his eyes. “You are controlled by estrogen now. I understand you are in a bad mood. But you have to be rational. Do you know what you are saying?” The grievances that I have suppressed for a long time could no longer be held back; I slammed the door and yelled, “Rational? Your wife had a miscarriage caused by your mistress, and you went to celebrate your mistress’s pregnancy. Is this rational? Zach, you’ve gone too far!” He felt embarrassed after I said it. He pointed at my nose with his eyes wide open and scolded me, “Winona, are you crazy? Melanie is my friend’s wife, and I just helped her out of pity. Watch your mouth!” Then Zach raised his hand and slapped me hard. I was caught off guard and bumped into the door. My back hit the door lock, and cold sweat ran down my face. “Baby!” Zach looked at his hand with some regret and hurried over to help me up. “I’m sorry, Baby. I lost control.” I stood up against the wall, my heart aching. “Don’t touch me! ” Zach was a little embarrassed with his hands freezing in air. He moved his fingers slightly and then retracted them. “You rest at home. I’ll go buy cakes.” After he left, I removed the memory card of the surveillance camera in the living room and called the police.

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Sadie Bailey’s friend was getting married, and even though I was pregnant, my boyfriend, Waylon Powell, insisted that I attend the wedding just because Sadie said it would be nice for me to see the ceremony and get prepared for my own wedding. During the wedding, the groom raised a toast. Sadie encouraged me to take a drink, saying, “Eloise, there are so many guests here. Just let loose a little!” I declined, and Sadie ended up drinking a glass on my behalf. I noticed Waylon’s expression darken suddenly. As the wedding festivities were winding down, Waylon pulled me aside, his voice tight with anger. “Why aren’t you playing along? Stop pretending!” He pinched my chin and forced me to drink half a bottle of wine before kicking me out of the room, claiming I was ruining the fun. I ended up vomiting all over the floor and blacked out by the roadside. When I woke up, I was naked, and my lower body was covered in blood. My child was gone, and I no longer wanted anything to do with Waylon. My entire body throbbed with pain. I felt cold and utterly drained. As I slowly opened my eyes, I realized I was in an alley. A cold gust of wind swept through, causing me to shiver involuntarily. That was when it struck me—I was naked. Panic surged through me as I trembled in disbelief. I glanced down and saw bruises littering my skin. My lower body was smeared with blood. In an instant, fear gripped me. I touched my stomach—the child I had carried was lifeless now. He had even kicked me yesterday. I burst into tears and called an ambulance with all my strength before succumbing to exhaustion and passing out. When I opened my eyes again, I was on a stretcher in a hospital. Doctors and nurses rushed toward the operating room; their faces etched with sympathy. Upon seeing that I was awake, the doctor leaned in quickly. “Hello, you’re in critical condition and need immediate surgery. Has a family member arrived? They need to sign.” My lips were parched, and it took me a moment to find my voice. “No, I’ll sign myself.” The doctor nodded, quickly instructing the other staff to prepare for the operation. As the operating lights flickered on, I couldn’t help but smile bitterly. Waylon, how could you do this to me? Because of his promise of a grand wedding once he became successful, I devoted myself to him over the years and even had a child before marriage. And this was my reward? All those sacrifices were for nothing. The operation went smoothly, but when I opened my eyes, the doctor wore a look of regret. “I’m so sorry, Ms. Crawford, your child…” I shut my eyes, feeling a wave of sorrow. “I understand,” I croaked. Tears streamed down my face. Even though I had braced myself for this moment, the grief was overwhelming. The doctor and nurses rushed to comfort me, but their words were hollow. This child had meant everything to both Waylon and me. When he first learned I was pregnant, he had taken such good care of me. But after his memorable crush, Sadie, came back, everything changed within months. Feelings could shift so quickly. He disregarded my pregnancy and chose to get me drunk for Sadie’s sake. The doctor called the police after my incident. When I woke up, they showed me their badges and asked, “Ms. Crawford, do you remember where the incident occurred and where you woke up last night?” I briefly closed my eyes, grappling with a splitting headache, but managed to recall a few images and tentatively mentioned the street and the alley. As the officers left, I overheard one of the younger ones muttering in the hallway, “She drank while pregnant! She’s so reckless. Now, the baby is gone. She…” “Shut up! She’s the victim! Remember what I told you?” an older officer scolded, and their footsteps faded away. Infused with sadness, I deserved it. And I also deserved it for falling for a man like Waylon. Suddenly, my phone buzzed on the bedside table. It was Waylon. I answered the call, and he immediately questioned, “Eloise Crawford, where are you?”

When I fell silent, Waylon began to berate me. “I just let you have a little wine, and now you think you can just storm off in a huff? You’re pregnant and still out everywhere. Do you even care about me or this child?” I felt utterly drained and said slowly, “Waylon, so you knew I was pregnant. Why did you make me drink?” Waylon appeared taken aback by the hoarseness in my voice. Before he could respond, Sadie interjected, pretending to sound remorseful, “Eloise, I knew you left because of this. It’s all my fault. I thought your pregnancy was stable, so I suggested you have some wine. I didn’t expect…” Waylon cut her off with a sharp tone. “Sadie, this isn’t on you. It’s all Eloise’s fault. I’ve never seen a pregnant woman run off after just a little drinking. She’s too fragile!” His momentary concern for my weak voice vanished in an instant. As I listened to him, I felt calm, and my eyes grew vacant. Then, Waylon took the phone and commanded with a harsh tone, “Eloise, no matter where you are, get back here immediately and apologize to Sadie. She’s just a girl. How can she handle your cruelty?” She couldn’t handle it? Just a girl? I was actually six months younger than Sadie. I pondered for a moment, realizing it wasn’t about age—it was clear he no longer loved me. Waylon’s frustration grew as he noticed my silence. In all the years we’ve been together, this was probably the first time that I have been so ‘rebellious’ in his eyes, and it infuriated him. “Eloise! Are you deaf?” he shouted. Since Sadie returned, I have fought with him over his lack of attention. Every time we argued about Sadie, he accused me of being petty and maliciously speculating about their relationship. He would even storm out, slamming the door behind him. And Sadie’s Instagram would happen to have some provocative updates, which she clearly intended for me to see. “No,” I replied flatly. Moments later, Sadie sent me a short video of herself in revealing clothing, with someone showering in the bathroom. When I recognized it was Waylon instantly, she quickly deleted the message and followed up with a voice one: [Sorry, Eloise, I sent that by mistake. You didn’t see it, right?] I calmly listened to her feigned apology while thinking about her blatant provocation. I brought my phone close to my mouth and smiled, replying: [I saw it. Have fun.] Sadie didn’t reply, but I knew she had read my message. The operation and the emotional toll had left me completely exhausted. After a night’s rest, I was jolted awake the next day by a loud commotion. “Sir! You can’t come in! The patient needs to rest! Sir!” “I’m here to see my girlfriend! Which department are you from?” As I opened my eyes, I saw Waylon shoving the nurse aside and storming into the ward. His expression shifted from shock at my pale face to a sneer. “I was wondering where you disappeared to. Turns out you’re here!”

I frowned and was surprised at how he had managed to find me so quickly. Then it hit me—I had used his bank card to settle the hospital bill last night. Just then, I heard the sound of high heels clicking down the corridor. It was Sadie, stepping in with a flawless appearance and perfectly done makeup. Upon spotting me, she feigned concern, asking, “Eloise, what’s going on? Why didn’t you tell Waylon and me that you were admitted?” Before Sadie could finish her sentence, Waylon pulled her closer to him. He studied me for a moment. Perhaps it was the thick comforter that concealed the reality, and he scoffed, “Sadie, don’t bother with her. She’s just putting on a show. That pale face of hers is just a ploy to get my attention. She’s perfectly fine.” “Really, Waylon? But I think she…” Sadie acted surprised, with her expression kind yet insincere. Waylon looked at me with disdain, probably comparing me to Sadie and deciding I was even more vicious. “It can’t be alcohol poisoning. She used to be a good drinker. She can’t fool me.” I closed my eyes, recalling the early days of Waylon’s business when he had business dinners everywhere, and I accompanied him. I was never much of a drinker, but every time I saw those powerful bosses making things difficult and making him drink, I couldn’t help but take a few shots on his behalf. I would often end up vomiting in private, suffering countless nights of embarrassment and stomach pain. I never confessed to him. I didn’t want to add to his stress. I accepted that I had bad luck and had spent the past five years with a jerk. After this ordeal, I had learned my lesson. From now on, I was done having feelings for Waylon. “What’s your next act? Just wrap it up. Then let’s go home and stop embarrassing yourself here. So childish!” Waylon said dismissively. At that moment, a voice boomed from outside the door, “Who’s here?” I immediately realized that the earlier conflict must have prompted the nurse to go straight to the director. Waylon and Sadie froze momentarily, and he sneered, “Eloise, you even hired actors for this. Quite generous of you.” The director entered, visibly angry, and the nurse chimed in, “Actors? Who are you? Please leave and don’t disturb the patient. She just had an abortion yesterday and needs to rest!” “Yeah, right. Eloise, you should at least make your act more convincing…” Waylon scoffed, casting a casual glance at the director before turning back to me. Just as he was about to continue, he caught sight of the comforter I had lifted, revealing my flat belly. I cut him off coldly. “Waylon, is this convincing enough?” He paused, momentarily stunned, even caught mid-sentence with his mouth agape, looking ridiculous. In the next instant, his body shook with disbelief, and he finally panicked. “Eloise, did you have an abortion?”

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A video was shared on my husband’s Instagram account, in which he was drinking wine with his first love in a bar as they gazed fondly at each other. Having not eaten for a day, I put down the diaper I just changed for Erica’s mother and looked at the dirty dishes in the kitchen. I took some rest on the sofa, and the baby in my belly protested for food. Staring at my phone for a while, I gave a thumbs up to that picture and commented: [You’re made for each other.] Suddenly, I received a call from my husband, and as soon as I answered, he yelled at me, “That was only a game. Why are you making a fuss over it?” “Fine, I hope you can really be a couple,” I thought to myself. “Of course, they are made for each other. Thank god you know that.” Erica Linch’s friend, Henry Zander, replied to me unceremoniously in the comments. His point was obvious. Without seeing him in person, I could feel the contempt and disdain in his tone. Erica probably didn’t block anyone from seeing this post. All of his friends, including those I had never met or only met a few times, could see it. They might be laughing in front of the screen, or perhaps discussing it privately, imagining the awkwardness and insecurity I, Erica’s wife, feel when I said in the comments that my husband and someone else were a perfect match. They say that the way your husband treats you reflects how his friends treat you. At that moment, I had a deeper understanding of that saying. Erica probably didn’t show the respect and care I deserved in front of them. With these thoughts, an indescribable sense of suffocating pain subtly rose in my heart. They all seemed to agree tacitly that Ann Yates was more suitable for Erica. And I, the woman who had been married to Erica for many years had never been able to bear him a child, seemed to have been quietly excluded from this circle. I had sacrificed so much for this family ever since we got married. Both our parents urged me to get pregnant soon. I had no choice but to temporarily resign from the job I loved and focus entirely on getting pregnant. At the same time, I needed to take care of Erica’s parents, fulfilling my duty as his wife. However, being unemployed made me doubt my worth more than ever. I graduated from a prestigious university with a bright career outlook and my own dreams and pursuits. But I allowed myself to give up my career and dreams and become a housewife for the sake of a man. That was completely different from the ambition and aspirations I had when I first graduated. I rarely met Erica’s friends, not because I didn’t want to go, but because I knew that I wasn’t welcomed in that circle. On the one hand, Erica didn’t really want to take me. On the other hand, I felt that I wasn’t the same kind of person as his friends. That video further confirmed this point. Thinking like this, I felt utterly worn out, not knowing what my efforts over the years had truly brought me. I couldn’t help but feel confused, not knowing if my persistence in this marriage still held any meaning. Just then, there was a soft click from the fingerprint lock outside the door, and Erica had returned. He was taken aback to see that the living room light was still on. Then, his gaze fell on me sitting on the sofa. He must have remembered the video earlier, and upon seeing my impassive face, he started to explain, which was truly surprising to me, “About that video, we were only playing a game to welcome Ann back. She lost the truth-or-dare, and those guys were all my friends. She couldn’t do that with other guys, so I helped her out and drank with her.” His tone carried a hint of helplessness, as if that really wasn’t a big deal. I twitched my lips and looked up at him with sarcasm and disappointment in my eyes. “You were only helping her out? Erica, we didn’t even have a toast when we got married back then. And those so-called friends of yours, each one of them looks like they’re attending a funeral.” My words inevitably carried a hint of sharpness and bitterness. I vented the long-suppressed emotions in my heart. Instantly enraged, Erica widened his eyes and shouted with a trembling voice, “Lola Harrison! Can you stop being unreasonable?! How could you say that?!” I looked into his eyes, and just thinking about the ambiguous atmosphere between them at that time and his friend’s comments made me feel a wave of nausea. I took a deep breath and said decisively, “You sleep in the living room. I don’t want to be in the same room with you.” Unexpectedly, that touched Erica’s sore spot, and he suddenly spoke angrily. “Fine, Lola, whatever!”

I met Erica in middle school, fell in love with him in high school, and had known him for seven years. I lived next door to him when I was a child. When I first moved in, I knew nobody knew, and I was terrified. It was Erica who leaned over from the other side of the wall, smiled, and spoke up, “Hello, my name is Erica Linch! What is your name?” Since then, we often went home together after school. In middle school, we took the school bus together, and as we got older, we rode bikes together. I had always known a girl named Ann Yates, who was Erica’s childhood sweetheart. Later, due to her parents’ work, she moved abroad, and I moved in afterward. These had never been a secret between Erica and me. One evening after self-study during our sophomore year in high school, Erica handed me a big bouquet on my way home, his eyes sparkling. He asked me if I wanted to be his girlfriend. I still remember that feeling of excitement, as if I would never like someone that much again in my life. I was touched by Erica and got together with him. Later, I even moved away from my hometown to get into the university that he attended. I simply devoted all my youth to Erica. Later, we went to college together. After Erica graduated from college, he started his own business, and it was really a tough road. During the bottleneck period of his career, I stayed by his side, caring for him and encouraging him. I was always there, helping him to get out of whack. After going through a career crisis, he proposed to me. I always thought of myself as the happiest woman, even though Erica had never wanted me to meet his friends over the years and even though his friends didn’t particularly like me. They only liked Ann. The issue about Ann was like a time bomb. No one knew when it would break out. It seemed that it wouldn’t go off at all. It would only gnaw my heart until no feeling was left in it for Erica. Thinking of this, I touched my belly where the late-arriving baby was with pity. I had always wanted to have a baby, and I didn’t expect him to arrive at this moment. But I was grateful that he came at this time. If he had come a bit earlier, I wouldn’t have had so much courage. Instead, I would have had a lot of concerns as my belly started to show. I really couldn’t bear to let my child be born into an unhappy family. It was enough for me to be unhappy. It seemed that having an abortion was the only option for me. I made an appointment for the abortion procedure that very evening. I knew I would probably be sleepless all night, so I went to the kitchen to heat some milk. Erica was in the guest room, and when he saw me come out of the main bedroom with a terrible look, he asked, “Are you calm? You’re really a piece of work now, Lola.” Hearing this, I hesitated on whether to tell him the news, but suddenly Erica’s phone rang. The caller ID showed it was Ann. Erica almost immediately picked it up. “Hello? Ann, what’s wrong?” Ann deliberately lowered her voice on the other end of the phone and then spoke, “Erica, I suddenly have a stomachache. Can you come over?” I heard it clearly, and then I watched as Erica responded, “Coming right up.” He didn’t even look at me. He just picked up his coat and was about to leave. “Erica.” I suddenly called out to him, ready to give him one last chance. “Stay and have some food with me. Don’t go.” Erica was slightly taken aback, then furrowed his brows. He thought I didn’t hear Ann’s voice on the other end of the phone. So, he still tried to deceive me. “You know my company needs me. Why are you throwing a tantrum here? Without my company, you wouldn’t even be able to afford food. “Lola, I don’t have time right now. If you want to eat, go ahead. If not, that’s fine. Don’t forget to see my parents tomorrow.” The door slammed shut with a bang, and I felt disheartened. Before long, a message notification chimed in on the phone. It was Ann. She sent me a photo on purpose. In the photo, two people were holding hands, and the man was wearing a ring on his ring finger. It was the same as the one in my hand.

At that moment, I felt utterly despondent, as everything I did seemed absurd in the eyes of others. With Erica’s departure, the once spacious home instantly felt empty, as if the air had solidified, emanating a faint chill that pierced deep into my heart. I suddenly realized that I had never truly regarded this place as my home, and in my heart, I even faintly rejected this cage. The following day, I woke up early and went to the hospital for an abortion. The doctor had probably long been accustomed to pregnant women like me who had no family accompanying them and just coldly instructed, “Sign here, then go wait in the hallway. A nurse will take you to change into the surgical gown shortly.” I pursed my dry lips and nodded, feeling a sharp pain in my heart, and my eyes involuntarily turned red. Only then did the doctor notice my emotions. She sighed deeply, her tone carrying a hint of helplessness, “At this stage, it’s just a fertilized egg. Don’t put too much pressure on yourself. “If you regret it now, it’s still not too late. However, I must remind you that since you can come here, it must be the choice you made after weighing the pros and cons.” I took a deep breath, trying to calm my emotions, and nodded firmly, “Yes, thank you, doctor. I’ve made my decision.” While I was paying, I unexpectedly ran into Erica and Ann at the corner of the hospital. I didn’t know what they were doing in the gynecological department. Although I had doubts in my mind, I didn’t intend to speculate. I was just about to turn around and walk past them when Erica noticed me. He seemed surprised. “Lola? What are you doing here?”

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“I agree to the marriage.” My family faced bankruptcy as my parents scrambled for solutions until help arrived with a condition. “The man in power wants to marry you.” I remained silent for a moment and agreed. My mom, Amanda Almond, on the other end of the phone, suddenly fell silent, leaving only the sound of sobbing. I knew that if she weren’t at the end of her rope, my mom would never tell me this. Due to my numerous childhood misfortunes, my mom consulted a fortune teller, who warned of an ominous fate and premature death, advising a southern move to evade disasters. My mom was reluctant to let me go, but she relented after another car accident occurred to me and sent me to the south. It was to recuperate and also to avoid disaster. My dad took the phone with a sigh. “Do you give up that man?” I knew what he meant, smiled bitterly, and shook my head. “He doesn’t love me anymore.” After hanging up the phone, I was about to open the studio for ventilation when the door was suddenly pushed open. Jocelyn Bright ran to my wheelchair and pushed me out. “Where are you pushing me?” She paused and smiled innocently, “Jeremy and Francis said they would take me to the beach to play beach volleyball. Miranda, you should come too.” She looked down at my legs, the malice on her face gradually growing. “Oh, I almost forgot that you’re a cripple and can’t go to the beach!” I’ve gotten used to her two different faces in public and behind people’s backs, having no energy to show my fury. “Since you know I can’t go, just push me back.” But Jocelyn shook her head at me. “No, Miranda.” I suddenly had a bad feeling and reached out to pull her. But she dodged it, and her body fell to the side, hitting her head hard on the railing. After the loud noise, she burst into tears. The two people downstairs heard the noise and came up. Seeing her covering her head, they started accusing me. “Miranda, I just wanted to invite you to go for a walk on the beach. I’m afraid you’ll get bored at home alone. If you don’t want to go, then don’t go. But why did you push me?” Jeremy Dempsey helped her up with a displeased look on his face. Francis Earwood even directly rebuked, “Miranda Almond, Jocelyn thinks of you for everything good. Even when she goes to the beach, she wants to take you with her. Can you please put away your bad temper?” He turned around and looked at Jocelyn, his voice becoming gentle again. “It’s okay, Jocelyn. If she doesn’t want to go, then she doesn’t have to go. We’ll go with you.” Jocelyn tightly grasped Jeremy’s hand. She smiled at Francis when he showed concern but grew wary upon meeting my gaze. “What about Miranda? We can’t leave her home alone!” Jeremy glanced at me and said, “She’s an adult now. Nothing will happen to her if she’s alone at home.” Jocelyn then nodded, turned around and waved to me, then left, pulling the two young men away. It took me a long time to look away and push the wheelchair back to the studio with great effort. This electric wheelchair had been broken for a long time. I wanted to ask them to find a fixer before, but I was put off again and again. I had got used to it. ***** After the car accident, I had problems with the nerves in my legs, which made me unable to walk normally, so my parents sent me to the south. They hired a lot of servants to help take care of me. But the kids of my age around me didn’t like playing with me and called me a little cripple. Sometimes, when I slid my wheelchair out for a walk, some would deliberately pull the wheelchair to tease me. Then, Jeremy and Francis appeared. They said only princesses didn’t have to walk. They protected my dignity and drove away the children around me who wanted to bully me. They grew up with me. My parents would occasionally fly over from the north, and they felt relieved knowing that I had two such good playmates. We all grew up gradually and had our own jobs. Jeremy was now a well-known doctor, and Francis followed in his father’s footsteps and inherited the family business. I chose art because I had a mobility impairment. Fortunately, my work had won awards in various competitions, so I could support myself. I should have gone back to the north last year, but I said that I found the person I loved here. My parents understood and agreed to let me stay here, but they would call me from time to time, worried that the boy’s family would dislike my legs. “No, he won’t.” Jeremy had confessed his love to me many times. He said he would try every means to treat my legs and that he would take care of me for the rest of my life. I was moved. It was not because of the vow but because I could feel his sincere love. “Let me think about it…” Unfortunately, before I could answer, he took back his oath. Because Jocelyn appeared.

In March, I went to the mountains to shoot. There, I met Jocelyn, who was almost beaten to death. I heard that her father hit her because she didn’t want to get married. Girls in the mountains got married and had children as soon as they reached adulthood. Those who were younger than her had even had two children. But she just didn’t want to get married. I didn’t really want to get involved in other people’s lives, so I left her some money and wanted to go. But she hugged my legs and begged, “Miss, please take me away. I don’t want to live a mediocre life. I want to see the scenery outside.” Maybe it was because her eyes were too bright at that time, and the desire in them was too burning, which reminded me of myself as a child. I nodded, left some money to her father, and took her out. I let her go to school and try new things. She didn’t want to go home, so I allowed her to live in my house temporarily. As Jeremy and Francis heard that she wanted to stay, their first reaction was to refuse. “You don’t know her at all.” “You are disabled, and if she has any bad intentions, we are not around.” “Francis is right. Do not let anyone stay here.” I was a little hesitant and wanted to let them get on with each other first. With Jocelyn’s deliberate flattery, the two of them completely changed after just a few days. They took the initiative to ask Jocelyn to stay and even prepared gifts for her. The two made no secret of their love for Jocelyn and made promises to her. Francis said, “Don’t worry. We will always protect you.” And Jeremy followed up. “As long as you live here for one day, I will protect you.” I was just standing by, listening to Jeremy, who once promised to only take care of me, making a promise to another girl. I tried to smile but failed. It was so easy to say protect someone for a lifetime, and it could be said to anyone. Fortunately, I was used to experiencing bad luck. The person I liked fell for someone else? It should also be included in bad luck. I didn’t know why the person in power in the marriage arrangement chose me. Wasn’t he afraid that I’d bring bad luck to his family? I laughed to myself, thinking of the deadline my father told me. The timeline there was very tight, on the 15th of this month, which was only two weeks away. But it was better to be quick so that I wouldn’t get upset when seeing them. I returned to the studio. The sunlight shone on my unfinished painting, and I picked up the paintbrush and continued coloring. Rose Garden at Sunset. The colors on the canvas changed from light to dark, roses gradually blooming, and a little girl squatted on the ground… The painting was still unfinished, but it was not appropriate to continue today. I pushed the wheelchair and returned to the room. It was only then that I noticed the emptiness of the house. It seemed that none of the servants were there. I picked up my phone and called the nanny who cooked for me. The call was connected after a while, and I asked them where they had gone. The nanny said in a surprised voice, “Miss, didn’t you ask Ms. Bright to give us a day off? So we’re at home.” I was stunned and hung up the phone. I wanted to call Jocelyn to question her but stopped at the last minute. Helplessly, I pushed the wheelchair to the kitchen, found instant noodles, and made it for myself. Just as I took a bite, the door was pushed open. Three people carrying packaged food came in and watched me eat noodles. Jeremy came over and took the instant noodles away, saying with an impatient tone, “Jocelyn said she would bring you food. Why are you acting pitiful by eating instant noodles?” Jocelyn placed the packed meal on the table, behaving generously. “Maybe Miranda didn’t see the message I sent. “Miranda, instant noodles are too innutritious. I brought you some seafood. Come and have some.” Staring at the two men, I just found it a little absurd. “Seafood? But I’m allergic to seafood. Don’t you know?” My words made them choke. Yeah, didn’t they know? This was something they knew as soon as we met! Jocelyn smiled and said, “Miranda, my grandma said that if you eat a little bit of something you are allergic to, you will become desensitized. Would you like to try it?”

I ignored her and wanted to continue eating instant noodles. But my wheelchair was pushed over by Jeremy. “Jocelyn is right. It’s okay to eat a little bit of something you’re allergic to, okay? Don’t let her down.” Jeremy forcefully shoved the bowl of seafood soup into my hands and said, “Eat some soup. You’ll be fine.” I looked into his eyes and smiled with a hint of self-mockery, “I’ll be fine?” I suddenly found it ridiculous to hear it coming from a doctor. He turned his head away, not daring to look me in the eyes. I took a sip, and the allergic reaction appeared instantly. The feeling of suffocation came over me, and Jeremy was utterly panicked. He bent down, picked me up, and looked for allergy medicine in the room. Francis also wanted to go but was hugged by Jocelyn while crying. “I thought Grandma was right. I’m sorry, Miranda. I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was so serious.” After taking the medicine, it took a long time for my symptoms to ease. Jeremy wanted to say something, but I pushed him away. “Get out of my house. “All of you.” Jocelyn moved into Jeremy’s house. She sent me a lot of photos, including her current room, several sets of expensive clothes, and two similar dolls. I subconsciously clicked on the photo, and when the picture became clear, I was stunned. Those were… The dolls I gave them. Jocelyn’s voice message followed. “Miranda, Jeremy is so good to me. He was afraid that I would be scared, so he gave me a lot of things. “Ah, did you see the dolls? I said I liked them, so they gave them to me directly. “I heard that it was you who made them. You won’t be angry, right?” I knew she was provoking me, but I didn’t care anymore. On Jeremy’s birthday, I spent a month studying online before I made the doll. After Francis found out, he insisted that I make one for him as a birthday present. So I made one for him, too. The two used to cherish the dolls so much that no one was allowed to touch them. But now, they were easily given away. The next day, the servants came back. I asked them to pack up the things that the two had given me and put them casually in a box. The nanny who had taken care of me the longest was a little puzzled. “Miss, aren’t these your favorites?” “I don’t like them now.” Those two gave me a lot of things since I was a child, both cheap and expensive. From small items like hairpins to large items like expensive dolls. I treated them as treasures and cherished them well. Unfortunately, things had changed and there was no need for it now. It took eight full boxes to fill up the stuff. Then, I had someone put them in the warehouse. Jeremy and Francis came to see me and saw that. They opened the box at the same time and found that those were the things they had given me before. Jeremy was surprised. “Miranda, why did you ask them to pack up all those things?” “Just putting them away and cleaning them up.” I acted like nothing happened. Seeing that I had recovered from yesterday’s anger, Jeremy breathed a sigh of relief. “I really didn’t know your allergy would be so serious. You had never eaten seafood before, so I thought it was just a skin allergy or something like that.” Francis also asked, “We were both a little impulsive yesterday. Are you feeling better now?” Listening to these words, I just found them absurd. Did they realize they were wrong? But if they did, why would they have done those? Forcing others to do things they couldn’t do just for the person they liked would satisfy them so much? “Thank you for your concern.” I turned my wheelchair and wanted to leave but was stopped by Jeremy. He pressed his lips. He would do this every time he was nervous. I looked at him curiously. “Do you have anything else to say?” “Jocelyn’s birthday is coming up soon. I heard that she has never had her own birthday party, so I want to hold one for her.” Francis then added, “Besides, your birthday is right after hers. After that, we can celebrate yours.” They probably hadn’t finished what they were saying. If they were just celebrating a birthday, why would they come to ask for my opinion? I was right. After sharing their banquet ideas, Jeremy added, “Jocelyn has lived here for such a long time and is most familiar with your place, so we are going to set the venue for the party here.”

I knew it. “Whatever!” Jeremy didn’t expect me to agree so quickly, and a look of surprise flashed in his eyes. “You’re not angry?” I looked at him strangely and felt pathetic. Would they stop doing it if I was angry? In the end, they would still do it. Jeremy wanted to continue asking but heard Jocelyn exclaim, “Oh… Stop it…” Eventually, his concern for Jocelyn outweighed his doubts about my condition. With the servant’s help, I resumed painting in the studio, only to be interrupted by a knock at the door. Something seemed to have happened, and her voice was a little anxious. “Ms. Almond, go check it out! Jocelyn demolished your rose garden and said she wanted to grow vegetables there.” I pressed the paintbrush in my hand with more force, then immediately opened the door and had someone push me there. The rose garden, my mom’s gift on my tenth birthday, had always been meticulously tended, for it was special to me. I thought that when I felt better, my mom could come to see me and enjoy the roses together again. ***** After all, it was not very convenient to move around in a wheelchair. And upon arrival at the garden, we found the flowers in that small garden cleaned up. I was a little stunned. But the instigator pretended not to notice anything and pointed to a big dog digging in the dirt nearby. “Miranda, this is a great help in helping me farm. If it weren’t for this Labrador, I wouldn’t be able to demolish it so quickly.” Feeling that it was not enough to stimulate me, she quickly added, “You rich people are always wasting land growing flowers and trees. I think it’s more practical to grow some vegetables. Not only can we eat them, but we can also save money. Don’t you think so, Miranda?” She really knew how to find my bottom line. Those I couldn’t eat. Those I couldn’t touch. Those I couldn’t do. She wanted to try everything that could piss me off. I closed my eyes. I was leaving anyway, so I didn’t have to care much about things that couldn’t be kept. The nanny glared at her and was about to push me away when she suddenly exclaimed, “Miss, that’s Lucky…” Jocelyn looked at the bones in Labrador’s mouth with disdain, picked up the plastic bag, put them in it, and threw it away. Then, she looked back at me and said, “Are all you rich people so unrefined? You buried the dead dog in the garden? What if Star eats it? No need to thank me, Miranda. I just helped you clean it up.” My reason tumbled at this moment. I slid my wheelchair over and slapped her in the face. Jocelyn screamed, covering her face and crying out in pain. The Labrador named Star noticed that its owner was crying, and it showed its ferociousness. It rushed directly towards me, biting my arm with its sharp teeth, and I couldn’t shake it off. The servant wanted to help me but was stopped by Jocelyn. “Don’t go! Star will bite you.” The dog dragged me into the mud, shaking its head wildly. The pain of my skin and flesh being torn apart made me scream, which greatly stimulated the Labrador’s ferocity. I waved my other hand desperately and accidentally grabbed a stone, which I immediately picked up and smashed on the dog’s head. It was hit again and again, making it scream in pain. Jocelyn shouted, “Don’t smash it… Star, stop biting and run!” The noise was so loud that people in the front yard heard it early on. But no one came to see until Jocelyn shouted, and then the two men came over. Seeing the people who supported her coming, she said nothing and rushed to them to complain, “I just wanted a vegetable garden to grow vegetables, but I didn’t expect Miranda to be so angry. After slapping me, she also wanted to beat my dog.” She looked at Francis. “Francis, please help me bring Star here. Don’t let Miranda kill it!” She just twisted the facts with a few words. My hands were still bleeding. But they acted as if they didn’t see it and were very angry. Francis held Jocelyn in his arms and comforted her gently. “It’s okay. It’s fine. If you want to grow vegetables, just grow them. I’ll find someone to help you take care of them later.” He then looked at me again, his anger soaring. “Miranda Almond, have you had enough of making trouble? You can’t bully Jocelyn, so you want to take it out on her dogs. When did you become so hateful?” As the Labrador saw that someone was supporting it, it opened its mouth and ran to Francis’s feet, crying. I was so angry that I laughed. “I am hateful? “You are good at doing favors.” I covered my bleeding hand and pointed at the scattered rose trees on the ground. “These are my flowers, a gift from my mother. How could you give them to her just because she wants it? Who are you to make the decision for me?” I pointed at the pile of exposed bones and said hysterically, “Besides, she wants to throw away my Lucky. Why can’t I beat her? Can you please have a limit to your partiality!”

However, partiality was something that had no bottom line. People would always indulge the ones they loved. Jeremy looked at the girl who was throwing herself into Francis’ arms like a kitten with gentleness. But there was only disgust in his eyes as he turned to me. “A dog that has been dead for so many years is worthy of you being so harsh on Star?” At this moment, I felt like my breathing was about to stop. A dog that had been dead for so many years? Anyone could say this except him! When he was kidnapped, it was Lucky who tracked him down and ran dozens of miles to bring him back. Lucky, bloodied from the criminals’ slashes, managed a final glance at me before closing its eyes. I cried out and held its body tightly, not wanting anyone to bury it. Jeremy then came to comfort me despite the injuries he suffered from the beatings. “Miranda, it’s okay. Without Lucky, I will be with you in the future.” I was finally persuaded and joined him in burying Lucky in the rose garden. He told me, “In the future, a bunch of roses called Lucky will grow in the rose garden and continue to accompany you.” Jeremy, at that time, seemed like two different people than he was now. One just wanted to protect me, and the other one indulged in hurting me. ***** They asked me to apologize, but I ignored them. Francis snorted coldly and scolded me for not repenting, “If you’re stubborn, just keep not apologizing.” Then they took the servant and my wheelchair away, leaving me alone there. The unrecognizable rose garden and the bleeding wounds all mocked my initial soft-heartedness. I struggled to move from the mud to the lawn, and rose thorns pierced my palms. I tore the clothes off my arms, revealing the flesh that had been turned inside out. Enduring the pain, I used the running water to wash away the mud. But my aunt, Yolanda, called me at this time. She was married in the south and lived not far from me. She knew that I was going back soon and wanted to come and see me. But I rejected her. “Yolanda, you just got pregnant. Don’t walk around.” She noticed the nasal tone in my voice and was a little surprised. “Do you have a cold again?” I was afraid that she would come over and see my mess, so I quickly made an excuse that I had eaten spicy food. “I’ve been packing up recently. When I’m done, I’ll go to visit you.” Then, Yolanda was relieved and just reminded me. “You are vulnerable. Take good care of yourself, and don’t worry your mom and me.” After hanging up the phone, I finally burst out crying. Tears fell. The sky became gloomy, and a cool breeze blew. Although it was summer, I felt chilled to the bone. The pain in my arm brought me back to my senses, and I prepared to call emergency services again, but unfortunately, I collapsed before I could even make the call. It rained heavily. The raindrops woke me up, and only then did I notice that it was already dark. I felt hot and cold at the same time, and Francis came over with an umbrella and a flashlight. Seeing my embarrassment, he frowned. “Can’t you just give in? “Why are you still so stubborn? “How can Jeremy and I get along with you in the future if you behave like this?” He bent down, trying to carry me, but I smelled his pungent yet familiar scent. It was Jocelyn’s perfume. They were so close to each other, which was really disgusting. I pushed him away with all my strength. “There is no future.” Soon, I’d finish what I needed to do. And I would leave on my initiative. The past would only be the past. But I wouldn’t tell them directly. He thought I was joking and increased his strength. “Come on. I came to you without even joining my meeting. Can’t you just behave yourself? “Jocelyn is different from you. She has suffered so much, but she has the tenacity to climb up. She is also more worldly-wise than you.” I pulled his clothes tightly on his chest to keep a distance from him. Since I couldn’t break free, I didn’t want to have excessive contact. “But I have always been like this. “Why didn’t you say I was stubborn, I was naughty, and I did something wrong before?” My voice got lower and lower, and my head nodded. “But did I really do anything wrong?” Because my hands were infected from being caught in the rain, I developed a high fever that night. The fever didn’t go down even after taking antipyretics. Jeremy found out that I had a fever and paid me a visit with a hint of impatience in his eyes. “Why didn’t you have a fever just when Jocelyn was about to have her birthday party? Do you just want to make things difficult for Jocelyn?” I heard his words clearly, and my heart was filled with bitterness again, but this time, it was less than last time. This should be desensitization. Francis remained silent, staring at the wound on my arm, then arranged medical treatment and a rabies vaccine. I cried for most of the night because of the pain and couldn’t sleep all night. Then, the fever went away the next day. My painting agent, Luke Moore, called me and said that I won second place in the last competition. He was coming over to give me the trophy. I agreed. I fell asleep in a daze, and as I checked the time, I found that it was already three o’clock in the afternoon. But I didn’t see anyone. I took out my phone and saw Luke’s message. [I heard that you were not feeling well, and your sister collected the trophy.]

My sister? I got in the wheelchair and went downstairs. The banquet was still going on downstairs. I saw my trophy being given to her friends by Jocelyn. And I could hear the boasting faintly. “Jocelyn, you are amazing. I heard that this award is very valuable.” “You haven’t received any systematic training, but you can still win this award. You are more talented than her.” All the flattery. Jeremy and Francis just listened without exposing anything. Even after seeing me come out, they locked the living room door tacitly. My phone vibrated. It was a message from Jeremy. [It’s Jocelyn’s birthday. Don’t spoil her fun.] Francis followed closely behind. [A trophy can make Jocelyn happy, so what if you give it to her?] After the party was over and everyone had left, Jocelyn entered the living room with the trophy. Seeing that I was there too, she realized belatedly that she was being protected again. Jocelyn looked at her two good friends with gratitude, which was beyond words. “That’s great. You treat me better than my own brothers.” Hearing such sincere praise, Jeremy and Francis both smiled. “We will always treat you well from now on.” “No one can bully you.” The atmosphere was so harmonious, but I couldn’t fit in at all. I grabbed the trophy and threw it directly into the trash can. They were stunned by my actions. Jeremy was the first to react and asked, “What are you doing?” I tilted my head, my tone puzzled. “I’m throwing trash. Is it bothering you?” I, who had always been docile, now seemed to have turned into a hedgehog, with my quills standing up and stabbing anyone who came near me. “You don’t think that once she touches it, it becomes hers, right?” I turned around and looked at Jocelyn. “Your name’s not on it, right?” Seeing her stunned, I laughed softly. “If it is, just pick it up from the trash can. I don’t mind. You’re a trash picker anyway.” Then, I returned to the studio without paying any attention to the changes in their expressions. Francis followed closely behind, wanting to argue with me. But he was stopped outside. I locked the door. Picking up the paintbrush, I slowly made some changes. The darkness gradually swallowed the warm and cozy rose garden. It was turbid and dark, reminding people of the abyss. There were pairs of hands inside, tentatively pulling me in little by little, trying to assimilate me. I was somewhat relieved that the dog bit my left hand, but that did not prevent me from modifying my painting. My mom sent me a message saying that they wanted to pick me up in advance. They would come in about four days. The time was just right. I added the finishing touches to the painting and a discreet signature. I packed up the other paintings and told Luke to pick them up. I was not selling them, but I had a regular partner for art exhibitions. I would deposit my work with him. Occasionally, I could collaborate with him on auctions. And I donated most of the money from the auctions to poor mountainous areas. My mom often told me that the goodness I accumulated would eventually come back to me. If there was no reward yet, then it was not the right time. I no longer believed it. But I would still do what I should do. Some people were born evil, and I couldn’t generalize, but I was exhausted. Tomorrow was Wednesday, the day for my biweekly visit to the orphanage. The next day, I got up early and didn’t wait for Jeremy and Francis as usual. I brought a servant, rented a car, and took the boxes of things I had packed earlier. as well as the clothes I had bought for the children.

As soon as I entered, Maria Cooper, the orphanage director, enthusiastically pushed me in. “I don’t know how many times those naughty kids have asked me why you haven’t come yet. “They miss you so much.” Hearing this, I felt a little more relaxed. Maria noticed the white gauze on my hand, stunned for a second, and couldn’t help but soften her voice. “Has anything happened recently?” I looked at her but said nothing. She gently stroked my head. “Miranda, you’re a good girl. I can tell whether you’re happy or not at a glance.” Maria’s hands were big and covered with thick calluses, not as delicate as my mom’s hands, but they were both warm and powerful. I smiled and suppressed my annoyance. “I’m fine. Troubles will pass, right?” Maria realized that I didn’t want to talk about it and got over the topic. Many of the children in this orphanage were disabled. They had been abandoned here because of physical disabilities or serious illnesses. I got along very well with them, probably because we had similar childhood experiences, so it was easier for us to empathize with each other. Every month, I would give them lessons, and for the rest of the time, I would just play with them. Maria sent me there, and I asked her to divide the things I brought and distribute them starting from the first floor. She scolded me for wasting money and went downstairs to find a teacher to help. “Stay after class. We’re having dumplings today.” I nodded, feeling somewhat happy. I taught them in a small classroom. But I had just been drawing for a while when a boy rushed in. “Miranda, the doll you gave to Nina was snatched away by an adult.” Several strong boys pushed me. As I got closer to the noise, I saw three familiar figures pointing at a little girl. Jocelyn was also among them, and she was the most outrageous. “Such an expensive doll. Does your director have the money to buy you one? “Your director must have stolen it. The children in the orphanage are all thieves…” She held the finely crafted doll and showed it to Francis. “I remember seeing this doll in Miranda’s room. It costs tens of thousands of dollars! “She must have stolen Miranda’s doll.” Francis thought of this as well and was about to lose his temper when I interrupted him. “I gave her the doll. Are you going to say that I stole my own things and gave them to others?” The children in the orphanage were strong, and they had no difficulty pushing an adult like me. They pushed me over, quickly picked up the little girl, and hid behind me. Children came one after another, and they all held something I gave them in their hands. Jeremy and Francis recognized those things immediately, and their eyes fell on me. “Aren’t these all gifts from us?” I used to treasure the gifts they gave me. And I even joked with them, “I’ll keep them until I die…” Thinking about it now made me feel uneasy. Jeremy looked at the white porcelain doll he gave me when I turned 18, and his eyes slowly drifted towards me. “Why did you give this to them too? “You can give them something else.” I thought about it and found a more appropriate sentence. “I don’t really want to keep anything that’s not important.” After all, I would leave, and it would remind me of the unhappiness if I kept them, so it was better to get rid of them. Their expressions became somewhat strange, which made Jocelyn aware of something unusual. She quickly spoke up to smooth things over. “Those things are given away. Francis, Jeremy, can’t you just give Miranda new ones in the future? “Aren’t you going to take me to play with other kids? Let’s go!” She pulled the two and wanted to leave quickly. But I stopped them. “Shouldn’t you apologize since you wrongly accused her? “You are used to stealing and cheating, so you think the whole world is the same as you!” Jocelyn was furious at the contemptuous looks of the children around her. Unfortunately, Francis and Jeremy were in a trance, and no one stood on her side. She could only apologize. Words spread quickly among the children, and by the time they were eating dumplings, most of what had happened in the morning was known to them. The dining hall was full except for the small table where the three of them sat. They were completely isolated. After returning home, the three of them came in with me. They were silent in the living room, watching me ask the servants to pack up and clean the house. Francis and Jeremy felt something was weird. Jeremy was about to talk to me, but I directly answered the call from my best friends. They heard that I was going home and wanted to ask me out. Remembering that my legs were inconvenient, they called the driver and asked him to take me to the bar. I agreed without thinking. I changed my clothes and prepared to leave, but Francis pulled my wheelchair and asked, “Where are you going?” The bodyguard who came to pick me up was honest. “The ladies invite Ms. Almond to the bar. Don’t worry. I will get her there safely.” Francis frowned when he heard this, and his voice was filled with criticism. “You are a girl, and you are disabled. Why are you going to a bar? You can’t go.” I didn’t hold back any strength and slapped the back of his hand. “Who are you to control me?” Jeremy also stopped me. “Francis is doing this for your own good. Don’t be unreasonable.” The bodyguard showed a trace of embarrassment. As the atmosphere became tense, Jocelyn intervened. She hadn’t been the center of attention for a day, so she felt displeased. She thought this was an excellent opportunity, so she just cut in. “The bar. Is that a fun place?” “Francis, Jeremy, if you are worried that the bar is a bad place, why don’t you take me with you? It will definitely be safer with more people.” I was almost vomiting at her shamelessness. But the other two agreed in unison, “You can go, and we will accompany you…”

My best friend, Gladys Frost, saw the three extra people and showed a dark face. But she wasn’t angry with me. Since Jocelyn came, her eyes couldn’t help but stick to Gladys’ boyfriend, a famous rising actor named Patrick Gellar. Jocelyn was outgoing and called him affectionately, “Patrick, I’ve seen your TV series, and the prince you played was really amazing…” Gladys sneered. “You’re so noisy. My boyfriend’s never seen you before. Why are you pestering him so shamelessly?” Her words made Jocelyn burst into tears, and she began to act again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know he was your boyfriend. I just thought it would be closer to call him Patrick, because I really like the TV series he starred in…” Francis couldn’t stand it anymore and spoke up to defend Jocelyn, but Gladys didn’t give him any face. She just pushed my wheelchair to the bar to have a drink. There were many girls around me, and we had a lot of common topics. Jeremy was worried that Jocelyn would feel a gap, so he ordered several kinds of light wine for her to try. The scene was highly harmonious. Gladys looked away and touched me with a look of distress on her face. “They are so blinded. No wonder you are fed up with them. Do these two always do stupid things?” I didn’t answer. But she had already guessed most of it, and Gladys was so furious that she turned around and was about to rush to them, but I quickly pulled her back. “I’ll just bear with it for a few more days. I’ll be leaving soon. “Then, no matter what they do, it will not affect me…” While persuading her, I was also convincing myself. At some point, Jeremy and Francis had walked away from Jocelyn, one disappearing while the other picked up a computer and started handling official business. Jocelyn was strolling around out of boredom, and she was very envious of the atmosphere where Gladys and I were chatting in the distance. She didn’t know why some were born with everything. They didn’t have to do everything they could to avoid being beaten, try every possible means to avoid getting married in exchange for money, or be afraid of being beaten to death if they were not obedient. For many girls in her hometown, marriage was hell. They gave birth to one child after another. If the first one was a boy, it was fine. But if it were a girl, they would continue to bear children. But why? Jocelyn didn’t want to live that kind of life, and after seeing the girl who was painting, she prostrated herself and begged. She hoped to get a little mercy from that girl. And she made the right bet. That girl was so kind that it made her feel sick. She funded her to see the new world, bought her new clothes, and sent her to vocational school, but she didn’t give her money, the most important thing. Jocelyn could only try every possible way to get close to her friends, deliberately using her pitiful life experience to beg for sympathy from them. Little by little, she lured them to her side and then took away what belonged to her. Jocelyn thought she had taken enough, but why was there someone else around her? No, everything she wanted should be hers! “How is your family’s situation? I can ask my sister to help…” Jocelyn aimed at her target, found Gladys, and forcefully interrupted the topic. “What are you talking about, Gladys? Did something happen to your family?” Jocelyn’s voice was awkward, which disgusted Gladys. “Can you speak in a normal way? At first you sounded like a duck, and now you sound like an old weirdo.” Jocelyn was puzzled, not knowing the meaning of her words. Gladys directly told her, “You know, those old guys with the weird laugh on TV series. “Oh, I forgot. You were in the mountains before, so you probably didn’t watch TV series!” This remark caused a small amount of laughter. Jocelyn became more and more embarrassed and glared at me fiercely. Receiving the gaze, I felt confused. What was wrong with her? I turned around and took a sip of my drink, not bothering to deal with such a person. “Miss, can you give me your number?” A strange young man came over at some point. Jocelyn subconsciously blocked him and slapped his phone away. “I don’t want to! “Don’t you see yourself in the mirror? If you want to ask a girl for her number, at least you should dress decently, like Francis…” The young man sneered and pulled her away. “Can you know yourself first, ugly woman? Asking for your number just makes me sick enough to want to replace my phone! “How dare you throw my phone? Who do you think you are?” He pulled her without mercy and threw her to the ground. All of a sudden, everyone’s eyes turned over. The scene became a little agitated, and boys and girls who were in the same group as the young man also gathered. Francis noticed something was wrong and walked over there. The initially quiet and comfortable atmosphere had changed. Francis was the first to attack me. “Miranda, are you just going to watch others bully Jocelyn like this? “I saw you were here, so I felt relieved that she came to you. Why didn’t you take better care of her?!”

Well, what a high-sounding excuse. He just put the blame on me. Gladys almost exploded with anger. “Francis, just because Miranda doesn’t bother to be angry with you doesn’t mean I won’t get angry with you. “Do you know what a scumbag is? “If you don’t, just look in the mirror.” Gladys had always been generous in her attacks on people she didn’t like. But she forgot that Jocelyn was sitting on the ground. Jocelyn was furious that she cursed at them, so she pushed Gladys. There was a sharp corner of the bar behind her, and if Gladys got hit, she would definitely bleed. I slid my wheelchair to block it, and my arm, which had not yet healed, started bleeding instantly. The bright red liquid stained my white sleeves. Seeing this, Patrick, who was a step late in holding Gladys, instantly got angry and raised his voice. “What’s wrong with you? If you don’t want your hands anymore, just chop them off.” His cruelty revealed in an instant reminded Jocelyn of that show. She was not angry at all but rather a little intoxicated. “Well, I’m sorry. I know you didn’t mean to be mean to me.” But when she thought that this man showed this expression because of another woman, she felt a little displeased. In her eyes, as long as it was related to me, she could take it. “Patrick…” Her lingering call instantly attracted the attention of several girls. “Is that Patrick?” “Patrick, the new actor that I like very much.” “Let’s ask for an autograph.” A hot topic quickly climbed to the top of the trending searches during the confrontation, and almost in an instant, candid photos from various angles were released together. If it weren’t for the fact that there were so many people taking pictures around, Gladys would have wanted to kick her. She could not imagine how Jocelyn could be so stupid. Did Jocelyn see nothing but evil thoughts and affairs? How could she be foolish enough to scream Patrick’s name out loud? So many people had found out! Gladys had no way to end it now. I pulled on her clothes and whispered, “Let’s stop here for today’s gathering. You leave with your boyfriend first. I will leave later.” Right now, this was the best solution. Before leaving, Gladys glared at Jocelyn fiercely and said coldly, “You’d better pray that Francis can always protect you. Otherwise, I will make you regret for what you did.” “Francis, I’m so scared.” After receiving the threat, Jocelyn directly chose to find her greatest helper. There were more and more people in the bar, and many girls were live streaming with their mobile phones. People were pushing and shoving each other, and someone deliberately knocked over my wheelchair. Francis wanted to help me, but Jocelyn held his arm. “Francis, I’m so scared. There are so many people here…” He retracted his hand, carefully protected Jocelyn, and only reminded me in a low voice. “Be careful.” I was used to it, so I didn’t even look at them and picked up the wheelchair. Crazy fans stepped on me. After I finally climbed up, the wheelchair was grabbed by someone. I looked back, a little surprised. They didn’t leave? Patrick helped Gladys push me into the private room before leaving. But little did we know that this scene was recorded in its entirety. The entries on the Internet changed in an instant. Initially, it was suspected that Patrick was arguing with someone, but it turned out to be Patrick’s disabled girlfriend, and Patrick was suspected to be kept by a wealthy woman… The topics were becoming more and more explosive and weird. Patrick’s fans didn’t believe it and started refuting it. Someone said: [It must be some bitch who wants to debut and wants to use Patrick to get to the top.] Another added: [Don’t let me know who you are. If I find out, I will definitely skin you alive.] Others echoed: [Is there anyone in the group chat who is good at IT technology? Please find out that crippling little bitch…] And so on. Meanwhile, a newly registered account uploaded a video. She tagged Patrick’s group of crazy fans several times, claiming to have proof that Patrick had a girlfriend. And she commented: [You want to know if she is Patrick’s girlfriend outside the showbiz? You can tell by just taking a look at the video.] Then, she posted a video. It was apparent that Patrick was wearing a mask and ordinary clothes. But somehow, even though Gladys was there, the camera in the video was all on me. Even from some angles, Gladys looked more like a passing fan. Patrick pushed the wheelchair, bowed his head and instructed, and… Some irrational fans exploded instantly. They swore to find that little bitch. That account continued to release some vaguely true things. For example, I was a painter. My family was kind of rich. And I had a boyfriend but kept a lover. She said I was slutty and even often engaged in some particular sports. Because of my disability, I liked to torture others… And so on. If she said this unilaterally, there would definitely not be many people who believed it. But this account was known by some classmates in my junior high and high school. Those people didn’t like me, so they just got involved and slandered me. Some said: [That person… I am her junior high school classmate. She’s just very pretentious, and there are a lot of men around her.] Another commented: [I am also her classmate. You have no idea how chaotic her private life is. My mother never allowed me to play with her because she was afraid that I would get sick.] And others added: [Boyfriend? You underestimate her. She has more than one boyfriend.] My phone had run out of battery long ago. By the time I charged it and turned it on, it was flooded with calls from unfamiliar people. I tried answering one of them but was cursed. That stranger cursed my whole family and cursed me to die. This was the first time I experienced the viciousness of words. My good mood for the day was ruined. I just felt depressed and panic in my heart. So, I slid my wheelchair to take a breath, but Francis was sitting in the living room, holding Jocelyn.

Jocelyn covered her face and cried, looking so pitiful. “I don’t know why those people scolded me. I didn’t do anything.” Francis looked at me with a look whole of condemnation. “It’s all your fault for insisting on going to that bar. Now Jocelyn has been implicated by you. “Those people dug up your identity and even found Jocelyn’s phone number. What they said was extremely unpleasant.” My phone started ringing again, and I picked it up impatiently. Another strange call. I just rejected it and turned off my phone. I looked into Francis’ eyes calmly, trying to find the boy through these eyes. Leaving my familiar home, I came here alone. Being bullied, I was powerless. Most of the time, all I could do was cry. Later, I fantasized that if I had a brother who accompanied me to school, would I not be bullied? He would definitely chase away the kids who bullied me and called me a cripple. He would definitely hold me in his arms and coax me softly, “Miranda, it’s fine. You’re not a little cripple. You’re an angel…” Then he actually showed up. Francis appeared in my life. After seeing my wrist bleeding from being hit with a stone, he rushed over and chased away those kids. Then, he pushed me back to his home and took out a small first aid kit to disinfect me. Somehow, I looked at his serious profile, and all the grievances that I had accumulated burst out. I kept crying like a wounded little animal. He didn’t mind my noise but just reached out and touched my head. “You feel wronged, right? “It’s okay. Mom said that girls are made of water. Cry if you feel wronged. I won’t laugh at you. “I will be your brother from now on. If you are in danger, call me and I will protect you from being bullied.” I believed that. I also believed him. Unfortunately, it was a mistake. ***** After searching for a long time, I still couldn’t find what I was looking for in him. I smiled with relief, and the tears began to fall. I looked up at the sky and forced the tears back. “Francis Earwood, are you questioning me? “But didn’t you propose to go there with her?” It was the first time that Francis heard me call his name in such a distant way. Every time I saw him, I always smiled, but now I looked indifferent. And even my eyes seemed like I was looking at a stranger. No, not even as good as a stranger. He was a little uncomfortable. “You never called me so distantly…” These words drifted away in the wind. I pretended not to hear anything. Things on Twitter were escalating. My phone had been completely compromised. Gladys, who couldn’t contact me, came to my house directly and saw me eating instant noodles alone. “Well, where are your servants?” I pointed to a room where people were packing up things. “I fired a few and asked the rest to help pack. “After all, it’s almost time, and I have to prepare in advance.” Gladys nodded and returned to the original topic. “Don’t worry about these bad things for now. I have asked my sister for help with the disputes on the Internet.” She took my instant noodle and pushed it away with a look of disgust. “Today is your birthday. No matter how anxious you are to leave, don’t forget your birthday.” “Leaving what?” Two men’s voices were heard behind us. Jeremy and Francis walked to the table with a look of confusion on their faces.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MyFiction” app 🔍 search for “397550”, and watch the full series ✨! #MyFiction #B×G #Marriage #Heartbroken #DaretoLove

“Julius, I’m done with playing around. Honestly, an arranged marriage might not be that bad.” “Let’s set the wedding with the Martin family for a week from now.” Abigail Garcia’s gentle voice echoed in the hospital room, cutting through the sharp smell of antiseptic. On the other end of the line, her older brother, Julius Garcia, chuckled. “What’s going on with you? Did you break up with your mysterious boyfriend?” “I told you, what kind of decent guy could there be in Virelia? You’ve been there for seven years. What’s kept you hanging around?” A sharp pain shot up Abigail’s arm as the doctor cleaned the wound with saline. She stared at her toes, her voice shaking with the pain. “I know, I know, I messed up. But this time, I’m serious. Once I get my master’s degree next week, I’ll come back and go through with the marriage. Please, just… stop lecturing me.” As the only girl in the Garcia family, Abigail was treated like a precious gem, doted on by everyone. Hearing the frustration and guilt in her voice softened Julius’ heart. “Alright, alright, I won’t say anything else. By the way, do you have any requests for the wedding? Just send them to me, and I’ll pass them on to the Martin family.” “Also, I’ll give your number to Theodore right now. You two should probably talk before the wedding.” Abigail bit her lip. “Okay.” After she hung up, the doctor finished cleaning her wound. He glanced at the gash on her arm, and his eyes widened in surprise. “Miss, you can’t keep being this reckless. You took the knife for love, but look at this wound. It nearly hit your artery and tendon. If the knife had gone just a little deeper, you could have been seriously hurt. You could’ve died.” Earlier that afternoon, Abigail had taken a knife for her boyfriend, George Clark. George had gone out to a gathering with friends, and Abigail realized he had forgotten his cross necklace at home. So, she rushed to bring it to him. But when she entered the private room, she saw George and his friend, Samuel Robinson, in a heated argument. By chance, Samuel had just picked up a fruit knife from the table. Without thinking, Abigail threw herself in front of George to shield him. Her forearm was slashed, and the fight ended there. By the time she arrived at the hospital, she overheard a conversation outside the treatment room. “George, Abigail risked her life for you, and you still won’t marry her?” It was one of George’s friends speaking up for Abigail. George was silent for a long moment. “Abigail deliberately jumped in front of the knife, hoping to use marriage as a reward.” “Otherwise, why would she have stepped in the second Samuel pulled out the knife? What a coincidence, huh?” The words hit Abigail like a ton of bricks. The pain in her heart was worse than the physical pain in her arm. After seven years of being together, George really thought she was trying to manipulate him into marriage with this gesture. She whispered to the doctor, “Thank you, doctor. I promise, I won’t do something this stupid again.” The doctor sighed and began stitching her up. The sound of the needle and thread passing through her skin was painfully clear in the quiet room. Abigail tried to distract herself by looking out the window at the chattering sparrows. But then, George’s voice interrupted her thoughts, and it stung. “If it weren’t for Freya, I might have overlooked Abigail’s little tricks. I might’ve even proposed to her for taking the knife for me.” “But now that Freya’s back, I need some time to think about our relationship…” Abigail suddenly remembered when she entered the room earlier, George had been holding a beautiful woman in his arms. She was dressed in a tight, fiery red dress with a lot of skin showing. George had his arm around her, and she was pressed close to him, her chest squashed against his. The doctor, thinking Abigail was in pain, leaned in and said softly, “Hang in there. It’ll be over soon.” Abigail nodded, but her eyes were already red. Now everything made sense. George had been acting distracted lately, always on his phone. He’d even forgotten his beloved cross necklace this morning. It was because Freya Williams had returned. Abigail lowered her head, staring at the bloodstained gauze on the table. For the first time, she realized how pointless these seven years of love had been. And at that moment, she was more certain than ever that calling her brother about the arranged marriage was definitely the smartest decision she had made in a long time.

Abigail and George met seven years ago. It all started when Abigail, fresh out of high school, made a mistake on her university application and ended up in George’s city. George was actually Julius’ college roommate. Concerned about Abigail being on her own in a new place, Julius asked George to look out for her. Without a second thought, George offered Abigail a place in one of his vacant, luxury apartments. He came from a good family, and he was good-looking, not as stiff and serious as her brother. George was charismatic and loved to tease Abigail with harmless jokes. His attention and care for her even surpassed her brother’s. Every weekend, he took her out to eat, drink, and have fun. He also paid attention to the little things, like her period and always keeping painkillers on hand for her. He even secretly remembered her clothing sizes, so when he picked out outfits for her, they always fit perfectly. Over time, Abigail started to develop feelings for him. But there was a problem. George was in love with someone else. Her name was Freya, a bright and lively woman who had George completely enchanted. Abigail thought she and George would never be more than friends. But one rainy night, George showed up at her door, soaked to the bone and dragging a suitcase behind him. Freya had left him to chase her dreams abroad, and George couldn’t bear to be alone in his empty apartment, so he moved into the place Abigail was staying at for some company. That night, as Abigail handed him a glass of water, George pulled her into his arms. “So, you’re this happy that Freya left? Don’t tell me you’re falling for me.” Caught off guard, Abigail blushed and tried to pull away, but he kept her close. His cold lips brushed across her forehead and cheeks, then found hers, warm and soft. They lingered, and soon, he kissed her deeper, exploring every inch of her skin. Completely unprepared for this, Abigail quickly became lost in the moment, overwhelmed by sensations she didn’t know how to handle. The next morning, she was bursting to tell her brother about her relationship with George. But before she could, George stopped her. He whispered, his voice rough and seductive, “If Julius finds out I’ve stolen his precious sister away, he’s going to think I’m taking advantage of you. You know how he is. He’ll probably kill me.” Because of that, Abigail decided to keep the relationship a secret from her family. After finishing her undergrad, she stayed in the city with George to pursue her graduate studies. Her family didn’t understand, though. Julius even called George to ask about it. “George, have you seen Abigail lately? She’s insisting on staying in Virelia for grad school. Is some guy behind this?” “We’ve never minded her dating, but this guy sounds shady. No one’s even seen his face yet!” At that moment, Abigail was lying in George’s arms. He smirked and casually replied, “Your sister has a boyfriend? News to me. I’ll look into it for you.” After hanging up, he started unbuttoning Abigail’s shirt. She grabbed his hands to stop him, meeting his intense gaze. “George, do you really love me?” He chuckled lightly, “Little princess, what are you thinking? If I don’t love you, what do you think we’d be doing right now? And why would I have stayed with you for seven years?” A warm feeling filled Abigail’s chest as she carefully asked, “Then, after I graduate, let’s go meet my parents and Julius. Let’s make this official. Okay?” He buried his face in her neck, his voice soft and steady. “Sure, whatever you want.” With those words, Abigail thought everything between them was set in stone. But now, with just seven days left until they were supposed to go public, everything had changed because Freya had returned.

As the doctor finished stitching her wound, Abigail’s phone buzzed with a message. She picked it up and saw that it was from Theodore, with a formal and straightforward message. [Hello, Abigail. This is Theodore.] Abigail didn’t respond right away. Instead, she scrolled through his social media posts. There were only a few, but they gave her a glimpse into his life. As her brother had mentioned, he was exceptionally good-looking. His features were well-proportioned, and his taste was sophisticated. He was even easier on the eyes than George. Abigail found herself staring at the screen when George walked in. Since the doctor was done, he took her hand and led her downstairs. Along the way, he asked her three times if her wound hurt, but each time, she shook her head. George found it odd. “You’re really that tough now? I still remember when you got a tiny cut on your finger, and you cried in my arms for ages. Were you faking it back then?” His tone was teasing but still affectionate, just like usual. If Abigail hadn’t overheard his earlier conversation, she would’ve never guessed that George’s feelings for her had already started to change. Abigail nodded slightly. “Yeah, I was faking it before.” The truth was, she was scared of pain, but she didn’t want to show it anymore. She didn’t want George thinking she was playing the damsel in distress, trying to guilt-trip him into marriage. George was taken aback by her honest response. Seeing how tired she looked, he thought she was still shaken up. “Don’t worry. Samuel hurt you today, and I won’t let him get away with it.” Abigail looked at him. “Why not just call the police?” George’s expression shifted slightly. “Let’s not do that. He’s a friend.” Thinking about how Samuel had been nice to her before, Abigail bit her lip. “Up to you.” George let out a breath of relief. As he adjusted Abigail’s seatbelt, he noticed the cross necklace still clutched in her palm. Abigail had walked across town four years ago to buy it from a small shop. She wasn’t into superstitions, but her friends swore it brought luck. She’d gotten it just for him. Since then, his life had been pretty charmed. Today was the first time he’d forgotten to wear it. Now it was covered in Abigail’s blood. George’s lip curled. “Why are you holding onto this thing? It’s filthy.” He gently pried her fingers open and tossed the necklace out the window. It fell into the grass, disappearing from view. Abigail let out a bitter laugh but said nothing. From now on, George had Freya and didn’t need anything from her anymore. Halfway through the drive, George’s phone suddenly rang. He glanced at the red light ahead, picking up the call. A languid, almost sultry voice came through the receiver. “George, is your little girlfriend’s wound all taken care of?” Abigail knew that voice anywhere. It was Freya. George paused for a moment, then looked over at Abigail. She was focused on texting Theodore, seemingly ignoring his phone call. George quickly replied into the phone, “It’s done. I’ll be there soon. Just wait for me.” He turned the steering wheel and pulled the car over to the side of the road. “Abigail, there’s an important client arriving at the company, and I need to pick them up right away. I can only drop you off here. Will you be okay taking a taxi back?” Without saying a word, Abigail unbuckled her seatbelt and nodded. “Okay.”

Abigail reached for the car door, but George stopped her again, his eyes scanning her face. “You are unhappy. What’s wrong? Upset with me?” “Relax. Even though my client’s a woman, you don’t have to worry. I’d never cross the line.” Abigail forced a smile, her voice light. “I know. Just one more week, and after I get my diploma, I’ll tell my family about us. I trust you, really.” The warmth in George’s smile faded slightly. “Good girl. Head home now, and text me when you get there.” With that, his car sped off, disappearing into the night. Abigail flagged down a cab, and when she got home, she went straight to her bedroom. Her bedroom was a plushie paradise, with stuffed animals covering every surface. George always teased her about being childish, but he never tried to discourage her from expanding her collection. He even wore those silly cartoon PJs she got him without complaint. Every time she saw his exasperated yet indulgent expression, it gave her a sense of satisfaction she couldn’t quite explain. She used to think it was proof of his love for her. But now, as she looked back on it, maybe it was just him treating her like a little sister. Taking a deep breath, Abigail grabbed some large bags, intending to pack away all the stuffed animals. But just as she started, her phone buzzed with a call from George. She hesitated. It wasn’t like him to call so soon. When she answered, there was no greeting, just the sound of a woman’s heavy breathing mixed with broken words of pleading. “George… slower… please…” His voice came next, low and strained. “You’ve been gone for seven years. Now that you’re back, I can’t help myself. How can I go easy on you?” The woman let out a soft laugh. “Really? I thought you’d gotten your fill while living with Abigail. What’s the matter? She can’t keep up with you?” George’s tone hardened instantly. “She’s just a kid. What would she know?” Rhythmic sounds followed, growing more intense, accompanied by the woman’s breathless moans. Then came a muffled groan from him, and the line abruptly went dead. The beeping of the disconnected call echoed in Abigail’s ears. Her phone slipped from her trembling hands and fell to the floor with a loud thud. It took her a moment to process what had just happened. But when she did, it hit her like a slap in the face. She had just overheard George in bed with another woman. Her chest felt like it had been ripped open, the pain so sharp she collapsed onto the bed. She knew Freya was back. But she hadn’t expected them to waste no time picking up where they left off. His words from the call replayed in her mind, each one cutting deeper than the last. Just a kid? That’s it? With shaking hands, Abigail grabbed her phone. Acting on instinct, she opened a long-forgotten burner Twitter account. Seven years ago, back when George was still with Freya, Abigail had been curious about the woman he loved. She’d created the account to quietly follow Freya’s posts, sneaking peeks into her life. When Freya went abroad and stopped updating, Abigail had put the account aside, convinced that her relationship with George was solid and secure. But tonight, a new post appeared on Freya’s feed. Her breath caught as she clicked it open. It wasn’t just a picture but a two-second video. The clip didn’t show faces, but the story was clear, a woman’s neck covered in love bites, two hands entwined, and unmistakable movements that left no doubt about what they were doing. Abigail’s hands shook as she replayed it. This time, she caught a fleeting glimpse of the man’s face. It was blurry, barely visible. But the sound of his voice in the background and the star-shaped tattoo on his wrist were clear. It was George. Below the post was a short caption: [Still my man.]

The comments section exploded with chatter. [Freya, are you saying George is still as charming and capable as he was seven years ago?] [Wow, I can practically picture the scene!] Abigail’s vision blurred with tears as she replayed the video on loop, dissecting every detail, every sound, like she was punishing herself. She could hear Freya’s flirtatious laughter, followed by George’s deep, breathy groan, the same one she’d just heard over the phone. It all felt so vivid, so real, like the comments weren’t exaggerating. She could almost smell the air in that room, heavy and damp with intimacy. A sharp doorbell chime snapped her back to reality. It was the takeout she’d ordered earlier. Her cheeks felt cold. Wiping her face, she realized it was wet with tears. She accepted the food but couldn’t bring herself to eat it. Just the thought made her stomach churn. After splashing cold water on her face in the bathroom, she dumped the untouched takeout straight into the trash. Then, she stuffed her collection of plush toys into a bag and dragged it to the storage room. Next, she began moving her things out of the master bedroom and into the guest room. She worked mindlessly, hoping the monotony would dull the ache in her chest. Her phone buzzed, pulling her out of her daze. It was a photo from Theodore. In the picture, a clean, minimalist desk was bathed in soft light. A laptop screen glowed faintly, a plate of spaghetti sat neatly beside it, and a well-defined hand rested near the keyboard. Beneath it was a single line of text. [Have you eaten yet?] Through the window in the background, the city lights twinkled like stars, painting a peaceful scene. But the beautiful view only made her heart ache more. Why couldn’t she have fallen for someone like this? Someone composed, steady, and dependable? Her tears fell faster now, splashing onto her phone screen. On impulse, she opened the takeout app and ordered herself a plate of spaghetti. When it arrived, she snapped a photo and sent it to Theodore. They exchanged a few casual messages while eating. Somehow, her empty stomach felt a little less hollow, and the suffocating sadness from earlier started to ease. The next morning, just as Abigail got out of bed, Julius sent her a message. [Abby, don’t forget to invite George to the wedding.] She stared at the screen, hesitating for a moment before replying. [He’s been super busy lately. I don’t think he’ll make it. Honestly, I’ve already bothered him enough. Let’s just leave him out of it. No need to make him spend more money, right?] The door suddenly opened, and George walked in. Abigail quickly tucked her phone away. By the time she stepped out of the bedroom, he had already slipped on his slippers and set down the things he was carrying on the table. Abigail glanced at the star tattoo on his wrist, a mark he’d gotten when he was in a passionate relationship with Freya. It used to bother her, but now, as she looked at it, it just felt ugly. Noticing her change in expression, George pulled her gently into his arms. “Your eyes are swollen. Did you cry because you missed me?” Abigail lowered her gaze and blinked, trying to ease the dryness in her eyes. “My wound hurts a little.” It wasn’t just her arm that hurt. Her heart was aching too. George took her fingers in his hand and kissed them gently. “You’ve been through so much.” The memory of his lips on another woman’s the night before made Abigail pull her hand away. George, thinking it was because of her injury, asked, “Were you texting Julius? I heard something about a wedding. Abigail, don’t tell me you went ahead and announced our relationship and had Julius start planning the wedding?” His tone was soft, but there was an unmistakable edge of concern. Abigail met his gaze. The face she once found so captivating, sharp and defined, now seemed strangely distant. She replied quietly, “You still don’t want to go public, right? I didn’t say anything. It’s just my best friend’s wedding. My brother told me to come.” George’s tension eased. He didn’t even question why her brother was the one telling her about the wedding and not her best friend. He smiled and ruffled her hair. “I knew you wouldn’t try to rush me into marriage. You know me. I don’t like being forced into anything.” Abigail nodded, her expression steady. “I understand.” She did understand. And that was why, to respect his wishes, she was now planning to marry someone else. George hesitated for a moment. “But, I’ve got a lot on my plate right now. I probably won’t be able to go with you.” He was busy, of course, because Freya had returned. He had to keep her entertained, surprise her. Abigail understood that all too well, so she casually pushed his hand off her waist. “It’s fine. I’ll go by myself.” George found her reaction a bit odd. After all, in the past, whenever they were together, Abigail would practically hang on him, always asking for kisses and affection. Then, there was the fact that she had just come from the guest room. George felt something was off. He shifted into a teasing tone, trying to break the tension. “What’s this? Not sleeping in the big bed when I’m not home? Moved to the guest room instead?”

Abigail didn’t say anything and just turned to wash up. George followed her closely, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind. “Are you mad at me? I drank too much with a client last night, and my assistant went ahead and booked me a hotel room.” But she caught the scent of unfamiliar perfume on him, and his eyes were too clear for someone who’d been drunk. No hangover in sight. Abigail shifted uncomfortably and mumbled, “It’s fine.” George nuzzled her neck, his face brushing against her skin. “I know I messed up. I won’t stay out all night again. Give me a kiss, go wash up, and then come eat breakfast.” Abigail sighed, gave him a quick peck on the cheek, then pulled away and went to freshen up. By the time she came out, George had already set up the breakfast. It looked delicious, all of Abigail’s favorites. There weren’t many places in Virelia that sold Kolache, and this one was far from where they lived, but it was close to the address Freya had posted on Twitter. George gave her a lovely wink, almost as if he were showing off. “So, do you like it?” “I do,” Abigail replied. If she hadn’t just seen the same breakfast on Freya’s Twitter a few minutes ago, she might have liked it even more. George went to take a shower. Abigail stared at the breakfast, now cold on the table, with no appetite. While George was still in the shower, she quietly threw everything in the trash. When she came back, she accidentally knocked George’s jacket off the chair. As she bent down to pick it up, she felt something hard in the pocket. Curious, she pulled it out, finding it was a box of opened condoms. It was George’s favorite brand. There were five in the box, but only one left. Abigail froze, like she’d been splashed with cold water. After a long pause, she set the box down on the coffee table. George had used four of them last night. She remembered how intense he’d been with her, and they barely even had sex twice in one night. Abigail sat down on the sofa, her mind a mess, and she couldn’t stop herself from imagining George with Freya. Her thoughts flicked to Freya’s post and then the comment asking if George was still as capable as before. George came out of the shower and noticed Abigail sitting on the couch, deep in thought. As he walked over, his eyes immediately landed on the box of condoms on the coffee table. He froze for a second, unsure how it came there. Then, a sly smile appeared on his face as he quickly thought of a way to deflect the situation. He walked over and teased, “What’s this? You haven’t seen me for a whole night, and now you’re already in the mood?” He leaned in to kiss her. Abigail gently pushed him away and glanced at his jacket, trying to stay calm. “This isn’t from our place. I found it in your jacket pocket just now.” “My jacket?” His face showed confusion, and after a moment, he seemed to figure it out. “Oh, right. We were playing truth or dare last night. I ended up with the dare to bring home an opened condom.” “If you don’t believe me, I can call them right now, and you can ask.” Abigail, feeling a bit mischievous, decided to play along. “Go ahead. Call them. I’ll ask.” In an instant, George’s face fell. “Wait, Abigail, you’re really going to make me do that? I have plenty of friends, you want me to embarrass myself?” “Alright, that’s enough. I’ve been trying to calm you down all morning, and now you’re still not letting it go?” He grabbed the box and tossed it into the trash with a huff. “Abigail, I’ve told you before. I don’t like being forced into things, whether it’s in marriage or in a relationship.” “Stop pushing me so hard, alright?” He stormed off to the bedroom, clearly irritated. Abigail sat there, a tight knot forming in her chest. It was George who had suggested calling to clear his name, but now that she agreed, he turned it around and said she was being too much. She was about to retreat to the guest room when George suddenly appeared again, storming out of the bedroom. “Abigail, what happened to the things in the room? The toys? Where are they?” Abigail winced as she rubbed her sore arm. “You’ve always said those toys were childish, so I threw them out.” George gave her a skeptical look. “Then what about your stuff? Your skincare, your pajamas… where are they?” “Abigail, just because I didn’t come home last night, you’re pulling this separation act on me now?” Abigail’s forehead creased, her lips pressing into a thin line. What was going on in his head? Last night, he had spent time with another woman and used four condoms, and now he was back here, acting like everything was fine. The thought of it made her feel sick. With a deep sigh, Abigail spoke, her voice cold, “George, did you forget I’m hurt? Sleeping together would hurt my injury.” Realization flickered in George’s eyes, and guilt washed over his face. He quickly pulled her into his arms, his tone softer now. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that… It’s just that when I saw you cleaning everything out, I panicked…” Abigail turned her head slightly, her voice laced with sarcasm. “Panicked about what? Worried I might leave you?”

George kissed her lips lightly. “You wouldn’t, right?” Abigail nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. “Of course not. In a week, the whole world will know you’re my fiancé. At such a crucial time, how could I leave?” George paused, his gaze dropping to the neckline of her shirt. The atmosphere in the room shifted, growing warmer. His hand slid around her waist, tugging her shirt up as his fingers found their way underneath. His hand, warm and firm, traced the soft curve of her waist. He leaned in close, his voice low in her ear. “Let’s go to the bedroom. I’ll be careful. I won’t touch your wound.” A chill ran through Abigail. She quickly pushed him away. “I’m on my period.” George looked disappointed, letting out a long sigh. He turned and walked toward the kitchen. “I’ll make you a cup of brown sugar water.” Abigail watched him leave, her heart heavy. He still looked like the thoughtful boyfriend she knew. But this man, who had always kept track of her cycle, had forgotten today. It had only been a week since her last period. After drinking the brown sugar water, Abigail went to wash the dishes. When she came out of the kitchen, George was in the walk-in closet, picking out clothes. But on the living room table, there was an emerald ring. The gem gleamed, a deep, vivid green. Abigail immediately recognized it, which was the ring George’s grandmother had left behind, meant for his future wife. It had always been locked in the safe in the master bedroom, a safe only George had the code to for his most precious things. But today, he’d taken it out. Abigail felt a knot tighten in her stomach. Just as she was about to ask, George’s voice cut through the air. “Abigail, don’t touch that! It’s not for you!” He rushed over, his footsteps quick and flustered. His tie was half-done, hanging crookedly around his neck. Abigail noticed the marks on his neck, faint and unmistakable. Before she could process what she’d seen, George snatched up the ring and quickly placed it in a delicate gift box he’d pulled from the closet. Seeing her confusion, he hurriedly added, “I’m just sending it out to be cleaned.” Abigail lowered her eyes, her voice quiet. “Alright.” After sending George out, Abigail started sorting through the gifts he had given her over the years. She arranged for a secondhand service to pick everything up, exchanging it all for over three million dollars. With the money in hand, she grabbed the stuffed animals she had cleared out the day before and headed to an orphanage on the outskirts of town. The first time Abigail had come here was seven years ago when she’d heard that Freya had grown up in this orphanage. After leaving, Freya often donated money and supplies. Feeling a sudden spark of defiance, Abigail started visiting regularly, making her own donations and volunteering. Over time, the children here had come to know her, and the director had become a friend. Today, Abigail donated the three million, along with the stuffed animals. Just as she was preparing to leave, George called. His voice sounded rough, and he asked where she was, insisting on coming with her to the hospital to help change her bandages. Abigail sighed, knowing she couldn’t argue, and agreed. As the call ended, she heard Freya’s laughter in the background. Abigail’s breath hitched, and she couldn’t help but wonder how many condoms George had used with Freya this time. Her stomach churned. She quickly typed out a message to him. [You go ahead with your work. I’ll go on my own.] George replied almost instantly: [I’m done. Your arm’s injured. Don’t drive. Take a cab to the hospital and wait for me there.] Abigail let out a dry laugh. When she arrived at the hospital, George was already there. His shirt was a little wrinkled, and Abigail gave him a quick glance before looking away. After the bandages were changed, George carefully helped her down the stairs. While they waited for the elevator, a voice suddenly called out, “George.” They turned, and Freya appeared in front of them, wearing a low-cut black dress. Her long hair was swept to one side, and her neck bore fresh bite marks. Her look was sultry and confident, making Abigail feel almost childish by comparison. Abigail glanced at George, but his face was stiff, almost as though he didn’t know the woman in front of them. Meanwhile, Freya, with her usual self-assurance, extended her hand to Abigail. “You must be Abigail, right? I’m Freya.” On her wrist was the ring George had taken out for maintenance earlier. Abigail glanced at the ring, her gaze unreadable, then shook Freya’s hand. “Freya, you’re back?” Freya tilted her head, a confident smile playing on her lips. “Yes, I just got back yesterday. George brought me to the hospital. He didn’t tell you?” George cleared his throat, his voice flat. “It’s no big deal. There was no need to mention it to my girlfriend.” Freya chuckled, glancing at him with a teasing look. “Oh, George, I accidentally smeared some lipstick on your collar. How come you didn’t notice?” Abigail followed her gaze, and sure enough, there were lipstick marks on George’s collar and neck. George’s expression immediately soured. Abigail, trying to maintain her composure, smiled lightly, “It’s fine. I’ll have it cleaned when we get home.” Freya bit her lip and smiled knowingly. “Wow, George, your little girlfriend is so well-behaved. By the way, Abigail, I’m here for a checkup, preparing for a baby. What about you?” Abigail’s fingers clenched into a fist, a wave of anger rising in her chest. “So, George plans to have a child with Freya?” she thought bitterly. Before she could say anything, George spoke up. “Ms. Williams, you’re preparing for a baby? Does that mean you’re planning to get married soon?” Freya tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, thinking for a moment. “We’re not quite there yet…” She glanced at George, then leaned over and added, “We’re still in a secret relationship.” Abigail’s face drained of color, and she stumbled slightly. Freya quickly reached out to steady her. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?” Abigail pressed her fingers to her temples, her voice barely audible. “It’s nothing. Just some pain from the bandages.” Before she could finish, Freya interrupted, “Oh, I know. You took the knife for George, didn’t you? “Actually, I owe you an apology. Yesterday, George and Samuel got into a fight because of me.”

A wave of shock flashed across Abigail’s eyes. She’d already felt something was off the day before. George and Samuel were supposed to be best friends. She couldn’t understand what had happened to make them resort to a fight. Normally, George would’ve handled it by calling the police, but this time, he’d insisted on solving it privately. So it was because of Freya. George didn’t want to involve the authorities because he didn’t want Abigail to find out that Freya was the cause of the whole mess. Abigail couldn’t keep pretending anymore. She looked at him, pale and trembling, and asked, “What’s really going on?” George saw the color drain from her face and immediately picked her up, heading for the stairs. “I’ll explain when we get home.” He didn’t even wait for the elevator. He took the stairs, practically running. But Freya followed them. “George, you brought me here, and now you’re just going to leave me behind?” George clenched his teeth. “Go back on your own.” Freya’s eyes welled up with tears. “George, I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong? I didn’t mean it. “Abigail, I’ve been living abroad for so long. I’m not used to the way things are done here. But please believe me, George and I are over. We’re just friends now. “Please, Abigail, let him take me home.” “Just friends? The kind of friends who sleep together?” Abigail thought, but she didn’t say a word. George finally said, “Abigail, Freya has this thing about cleanliness. She doesn’t like taxis. Can we just give her a ride for a little while?” But Abigail wasn’t exactly keen on taxis herself. The past few days, he’d been making her call for one every time. She knew she couldn’t compete with Freya, so she just sighed and gave in. When they got to the parking lot, George helped Abigail into the passenger seat and buckled her in. Freya climbed into the back without a word. George shot her a warning look through the rearview mirror. Freya just grinned, flicking her hair over her shoulder and sticking out her tongue playfully. As they turned a corner, Freya spoke again, “George, Abigail looks pretty pale. Why don’t you drop her off first, then take me?” Abigail closed her eyes, pale and silent, not giving any reaction. George hesitated, then decided to take her home first. Once there, he helped her inside and into the bedroom. Abigail grabbed onto his sleeve. “George, why did you fight with Samuel yesterday?” George sighed softly. “Samuel… He insulted Freya.” He didn’t elaborate, and Abigail didn’t press further. That one sentence told her everything. She felt stupid, not knowing what people might be saying about her. George had fought Samuel over Freya while Abigail had thrown herself in the way to protect him. How ridiculous. Abigail waved her hand dismissively. “Just go.” George looked flustered. “Abigail, don’t be mad. I wasn’t trying to hide things from you. I just… didn’t mean for things to go like this…” Abigail cut him off. “So you’re saying you had no choice? Like with the ring from your grandmother, you gave it to her because you had no other option, right?” George’s face darkened. “The ring… I can explain. Freya needed something for a party, so she borrowed it. Once the event’s over, she’ll give it back. “I figured you wouldn’t wear a ring like that, so I let her borrow it.” Abigail felt a stab of realization. She knew she wasn’t the right person for that ring, and even more so, she wasn’t the right person for George. But she still couldn’t help herself. “So… now that Freya’s back, am I still your girlfriend?” George’s eyes locked onto hers. “Of course you are,” he said firmly. “Of course.” “Then what about Freya?” Abigail pressed. He immediately pulled her close, his body warm against hers. “Abigail, stop overthinking this. You know I’ve been done with her for a while. “We’re just friends now. She just came back to the country and doesn’t have anyone else to rely on, so I’m just helping her out a bit.” Abigail thought to herself bitterly, “When it came to Freya, you’d go to any length to help her, wouldn’t you?” But instead of voicing it, she said, “Then let’s call Julius. Let’s tell him we’re dating.” George’s expression faltered, and he stammered, “Abigail, it’s just a week. Can we just… forget about that for now? You need to rest. Stop worrying about everything else.” Just then, his phone rang. George just hung up. Abigail let out a heavy sigh. “Go on. Don’t keep her waiting.” George nodded, a little reluctantly. “Promise me you won’t stay mad? Rest, and I’ll be back for dinner.” He walked away, his footsteps growing distant. Abigail froze for a moment, then reached for her phone. The call had been active the whole time. The number on the screen was her backup phone. Before getting out of the car earlier, she had called herself from that phone, then slipped it under the passenger seat. Now, she brought her phone up to her ear, listening carefully. George’s voice came through low and irritated. “Freya, didn’t I tell you not to show up in front of Abigail?” Freya’s voice was laced with hurt. “But yesterday, you told me you didn’t like her. Today, you’re admitting she’s your girlfriend! You’re the one being two-faced. How is that my fault?” George sighed deeply. “She’s been with me for all these years while you were gone. I can’t just break up with her like that, Freya.” Freya’s sobs became louder. “George, you’ve always been mine. When I went abroad, it was to improve myself. I agreed to break up because I didn’t want to make things hard for you with your family. But it’s been seven years, and I can’t forget you. Why should I end up being the one hiding in the shadows?” George’s voice softened. “I know, I know. But things have changed, and we need to figure this out slowly. Just be patient for now.” Freya’s voice turned sweet again. “So, when are you going to break up with her?” George’s voice dropped in frustration. “Freya!” Her tone softened, almost coaxing. “Alright, alright, I won’t ask again. Just take your time. But… if you really plan on marrying her, it’s fine. Just leave a spot for me. I’ll be happy to be your mistress if that’s what it takes.” Abigail couldn’t help but feel a rush of disgust. She couldn’t help but think that no man could resist Freya’s perfect balance of charm and sweetness. That effortless ability to play on a man’s heartstrings was something Abigail knew she’d never master. In the middle of her thoughts, she heard clothes rustling on the line. And then, George let out a low groan. Freya’s voice came through, half-muffled. “Aren’t you taking me home? Why are we heading to the parking garage instead?” George’s voice was rough, his breath shallow. “You’ve turned me on. I can’t wait anymore… Let’s just do it in the garage.”

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