My life took a devastating turn when I was eighteen. I fell madly in love with Mike Maxwell, a thirty-five-year-old widower. To be with him, I abandoned the ballet career I valued more than my own life and turned down a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to study in Paris. I even ignored my parents’ furious warnings and tearful pleas, ruthlessly cutting all ties with them. But then, the fantasy shattered. I caught Mike red-handed, holding another woman in his arms. They were laughing without a care in the world. I heard him whisper in her ear that girls who danced ballet were just a bit more flexible, and that after marriage, all women were exactly the same. He told her I couldn’t even compare to her little finger. Watching that scene, I didn’t throw a hysterical fit. I didn’t shed a single tear. Taking a page right out of his playbook, I turned around and became the sugar mommy of a handsome, young college student named Declan. Everything was perfect until one night when Declan got dead drunk. Through his slurred, drunken haze, I heard him call Mike “Uncle.” He mumbled, “Uncle, I did exactly what you asked. I played with her feelings. You better treat Phoebe like a goddamn queen from now on.” Those few words felt like a bucket of ice water, completely waking me up from years of delusional dreaming. I finally made my decision. Mike or Declan, it didn’t matter. Both of these men made me absolutely sick to my stomach. 1 “You have to treat Phoebe right and make her happy for the rest of her life. Otherwise, I swear to God I’ll take her far away from here! If it weren’t for Phoebe, there is no way in hell I would have ever helped you with this.” Having said his piece, Declan looked entirely drained. He slumped at the table, downing his drink gulp after bitter gulp. A satisfied smirk crept onto Mike’s lips. His gaze flicked toward me for barely a second before darting away. “Relax. Phoebe is the first woman in this world to ever show me what real love tastes like. She taught me how to love, and I will never let go of her hand as long as I live.” “I only asked you to play this little part because I was worried Sylvia was too obsessed with me to ever agree to a divorce. I just didn’t want my Phoebe to suffer even the slightest grievance.” I lay quietly on the velvet sofa, faking a deep, drunken sleep. But my heart plummeted into an endless abyss. A biting cold seeped into my veins, freezing my limbs completely numb. Mike had once poured those exact same sweet words out to me, holding nothing back. He had held me so tight, his eyes swimming with deep affection and regret. “Sylvia, it’s such a tragedy we were born at the wrong times. We are seventeen years apart. Will you ever resent me when I get old?” Back then, I was totally blinded by the honey trap of love. I fought my parents to the bitter end and turned a deaf ear to my friends’ desperate warnings. “Mike, I am in love with who you are, not your age. We are going to be the happiest couple in the world!” I sounded so incredibly determined back then. Looking back now, it was absurd to the point of being sickening. To force me into asking for a divorce, he carefully orchestrated this entire scheme, bringing in his own nephew to run a romance scam on me. Could there be a more grotesque joke in this world? “Sylvia loves you? Hah! I just fed her a few sweet nothings and took her out for a couple of joyrides, and she is already dead set on me! Just watch. The second I mention marriage, she will slap those divorce papers right in your face tomorrow morning.” “A woman like Sylvia, who falls for whoever gives her the time of day, isn’t even worth a strand of Phoebe’s hair. She actually genuinely believes I am obsessed with her! It’s hilarious!” Declan laughed out loud, completely unbothered, entirely missing the way Mike’s face instantly darkened. Declan’s gaze swept over my body with undisguised mockery. After making sure I was still passed out, he turned back to Mike. “You really think I’d treasure the used trash you got bored of? It’s just a game. Honestly, touching her makes me feel filthy.” The moment those words hit me, a sharp ache shot up my nose, and my eyes inevitably welled up. My chest felt so tight I could barely breathe. When Declan and I first met, he knew perfectly well that I was a married woman. Back then, he would blink those innocent, clear eyes and gently pull me into his embrace. His eyes were always swimming with heartbreaking tenderness. “Your husband clearly doesn’t know how to cherish you. I don’t care that you are married. I just want the right to quietly stay by your side. Can I?” That day, I stood completely frozen for a long time. Even after I wandered home in a daze and mechanically cooked dinner for Mike, my chest still burned from the heat of his hug. It had been so many years. The heart that had long died inside that frigid marriage felt like it was finally beating again. Later on, every time he saw me, he brought a bouquet of vibrant red roses. I tried to push them away, tried to decline, but he would just forcefully yet gently press them into my arms. “Sylvia, it’s just a few roses. I only hate that I can’t give you more right now. Once I finally take over the business, I swear I’ll buy you an entire rose estate!” Roses. How long had it been since I last received them? Ever since I married Mike, whenever I hinted at wanting flowers, he would shoot the idea down with the most half-hearted excuses. The only exception was the night he finished celebrating Phoebe’s birthday and casually tossed a withered, dying rose onto the table in front of me like it was garbage. Because of that, when Declan approached me with such burning passion, I grabbed onto him like a drowning woman clinging to driftwood, refusing to miss out on love again. But looking at it now. That decision was fatally stupid. I was just a laughingstock to him, a toy to be used and tossed aside. The truth was far too cruel. Mike didn’t stay in the private room much longer. Shortly after, Declan carried my body out to leave early. By the middle of the night, I was burning up with a high fever. My head was splitting, and in a dizzy, spinning haze, I was rushed to the hospital by Declan. By the time I finally forced my heavy eyelids open, it was already the next morning. Faint sounds of giggling and flirting drifted in from the hallway. Through the glass window on the door, I caught sight of two highly familiar figures. Declan was breathing heavily, pinning Phoebe tightly against his chest. He lowered his head and planted a deep kiss on her cheek. “Phoebe, what on earth are you thinking? How could I possibly fall for Sylvia? What does she have that could ever compare to you? I am pushing through the disgust to do all this just for you. You heartless little tease, how are you going to make this up to me?” A stunning blush immediately spread across Phoebe’s cheeks, and she gave Declan a playful glare. Then, she stood on her tiptoes and carefully, seductively kissed him on the lips. “Come over to my apartment tonight, okay? Your uncle went out of town on a business trip. I will make sure to reward you properly tonight. You know how it is, Declan. My heart loves Mike, and I want to be his legal wife, but my body and my passion will always belong entirely to you.” Declan’s breathing instantly grew heavier. After they finished their nauseating display of affection outside, Declan slowly straightened his wrinkled shirt collar and pushed open the hospital room door. Seeing that I was awake, a fleeting panic flashed in his eyes, but it was replaced by flawless concern in the blink of an eye. “Sylvia, you’re awake? How are you feeling? Does anything still hurt?” I kept my lips pressed tightly together, saying nothing. My eyes were dead-set on the faint red hickeys peeking out from beneath his collar, a violent bitterness flooding my mouth. So the things I heard last night were not just a bad dream after all. Seemingly noticing my unusual stare, Declan very naturally pulled his collar up a bit, leaning in to pinch my cheek with a grin. “Why the long face? Did you black out? You got completely wasted last night and started gnawing on me like crazy. The marks on my neck still haven’t faded. When exactly are you going to take responsibility for me?” My stomach immediately did flips, and my already pale face lost whatever color it had left. He had used this exact same excuse countless times before. Almost every single time he spent the night at my place, he would wake up the next morning with fresh red marks all over his neck and collarbones. He would always look at me with a suggestive, teasing smirk. “Sylvia’s stamina was incredible last night. Look at all your trophies on me. Are you satisfied with your masterpiece?” Deep down, I never really believed it. All my old friends knew I was a happy sleeper when drunk, never the type to go crazy or lose control. But the evidence was always right there in front of me. So every time, I would be teased into a blushing, utterly mortified mess. And Declan would only take it further, pulling me tightly into his arms and pressing a highly restrained kiss to my forehead. “So, when are you going to make me an honest woman? Sylvia, I really want to marry you and tie myself to you for the rest of my life.” I used to think those words were the absolute pinnacle of romance and happiness. Knowing the truth now made it feel incredibly nauseating. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I leaned over the edge of the bed and started dry heaving violently, my ghostly pale face turning beet red from the strain. Declan was clearly stunned. A flash of genuine worry crossed his eyes. He snapped out of it, hurriedly rubbing my back while frantically pressing the call button for the doctor. His anxious act was absolutely bulletproof. “Sylvia? What’s wrong? Is your stomach acting up again?” Meeting his worried gaze, I zoned out for a split second. Declan. Your acting belongs in Hollywood. By the evening, my high fever finally broke. Declan was incredibly sweet as he stayed with me through dinner, but then put on an apologetic face, claiming a sudden company emergency required his immediate attention. His face was a picture of heartbreaking guilt. “Sylvia, I am so sorry I can’t stay here at the hospital with you. The moment I handle things at the office, I promise I’ll sprint right back to you, okay?” I put down my water glass and locked eyes with him. Deep down in the darkest corner of my heart, I still held onto one last, pathetic shred of hope. “But Declan, today is our three-year anniversary. You promised me you would spend it with me.” He was the one who always initiated our anniversaries. Every single time, he would cancel all his meetings and social events just to focus entirely on me. I used to worry that his impulsive behavior would give his rivals ammunition in the family business, but he always acted like he couldn’t care less. “I am just completely helpless when it comes to you. I am more than happy to be the man in the shadows. Let people talk. In this world, the only opinion that matters to me is yours.” “Sylvia, what the hell is work anyway? How could it ever compare to a single strand of your hair? Being with you is the most important thing in my life.” Those words used to make me want to laugh and cry at the same time. They melted my heart into a puddle, warm and burning. I hadn’t felt that kind of unwavering, devoted preference in years. But this time, Declan frowned slightly, a visible trace of annoyance flashing across his features. His tone became stiff and dismissive. “Sylvia, can’t we just celebrate it in a few days? Be reasonable. This project is life or death for me, and I cannot afford to drop the ball at a critical moment.” “Just be good, okay? I will come straight back to you the second I am done.” He didn’t even leave me a second to argue. He grabbed his coat from the chair and walked out of the room without a single backward glance. I sat quietly on the bed. It wasn’t until the air in the room had completely turned cold and dead that I slowly raised my hand to wipe away the dried tears on my cheeks. That last, pathetic sliver of hope finally vanished into thin air. “Declan, I won’t be waiting for you anymore.” Declan never came back that night. The next morning, however, Mike called me out of the blue. His tone was incredibly nasty, his impatience radiating right through the phone. “Sylvia! Where the hell is Phoebe? Didn’t I explicitly tell you to set up a room for her at the house? Did you pull your lady of the house routine and kick her out again? How can you be this petty? Where is a young girl like her supposed to go out there!” “All I asked was for you to help out and cook her a warm meal! Could you not show even a shred of decency to a young girl? When did you become so vicious?” When it came to Mike, I had long since run out of tears and expectations. After all, his countless, blatant affairs over the years had ground whatever fiery love I once had for him into dust. I had dragged out signing the divorce papers purely out of a sick sense of revenge. I maliciously thought that as long as I refused to give up my title, Phoebe would remain nothing but a dirty little secret in the shadows. But now, I was truly exhausted. I didn’t want to play this disgusting game for another second. “Mike, let’s get a divorce.” I hadn’t absorbed a single word of his harsh accusations, nor did I care to. The line went dead silent. It took him a full thirty seconds to find his voice again. “What, couldn’t handle the loneliness and found yourself a new toy? Or did you actually fall for some random guy? Sylvia, is this another one of your games to play hard to get? Using divorce as an excuse to force me to the negotiating table and beg you to stay? Aren’t you tired of this routine?” “How many times do I have to repeat myself? The only woman I will ever truly love is Phoebe!” I couldn’t even be bothered to argue. I actually found his clownish behavior incredibly funny. Didn’t he set up this entire trap himself? How did he have the nerve to play the victim of betrayal now? I simply gave a calm sound of agreement, coldly stated a time to meet at the courthouse for the paperwork, and hung up without hesitation. When Declan rushed to my house, the first thing he saw was the signed divorce agreement laid flat on the table. Joy practically exploded across his face. He didn’t even try to hide the fresh hickeys on his neck or air out the pungent scent of women’s perfume clinging to him before leaning in close. “Sylvia! You finally decided to go through with it?” I nodded expressionlessly. His smile grew so wide it nearly reached his ears. “This is absolutely perfect! Once you are officially single, we won’t have to sneak around like thieves anymore! You’ll marry me then, won’t you? I swear, I will never let you suffer even a fraction of what your ex put you through!” “Sylvia, you have no idea how happy I am!” Looking at Declan’s beaming face, I couldn’t help but let a small smile curl my lips too. Because once those papers were filed, my future would be scrubbed entirely clean of both of these scumbags. Mike disgusted me. Declan made me want to throw up. I didn’t see Mike in person until the day we finalized the paperwork. For some reason, he looked incredibly grim, a dark storm brewing in his eyes. “Did you really fall for someone else? You’re in such a rush to dump me just so you can marry another guy? Sylvia, your so-called true love is pitifully cheap.” I shrugged indifferently, my face a mask of absolute calm. My complete dismissal seemed to instantly ignite Mike’s temper. He took two aggressive steps forward, invading my personal space. “I am warning you one last time! Playing hard to get won’t work on me! You better actually sign those papers! If you try to pull any stunts in there, I will ruin your life!” “And from now on, Phoebe is my legal wife! After this is done, you will personally apologize to her! If you hadn’t kicked her out, she wouldn’t have had to suffer in a hotel! You are deeply manipulative!” I treated his words like absolute garbage. I pushed open the glass doors of the building first, walked straight to the counter, and slapped my ID down. Before the clerk could even go through the standard questions, I spoke up. “I am absolutely certain. I want a divorce.” The process was faster than expected. With no property disputes holding us up, it was a breeze. Before long, the certificate of freedom was resting securely in my hands. The moment I stepped out of the building, I noticed two incredibly flashy luxury cars parked by the steps. One was Declan’s sports car, the other was Phoebe’s ride. Declan hurried over the second he saw me, a massive grin on his face. “Sylvia! Congratulations on your freedom! I came specifically to pick you up to celebrate! I already booked first-class tickets to Paris. Let’s leave today!” At the same time, Phoebe pushed her car door open. Like a fluttering butterfly, she threw herself straight into Mike’s arms, completely ignoring the public setting. “Mike! I’ve waited for you for so long! Does this mean I get to officially be your wife today? My heart was practically breaking from the wait!” Standing on the steps watching this play out, I actually felt a twinge of admiration. All three of them knew exactly how filthy this whole setup was, yet they could still act with such raw, convincing emotion. But mostly, it was just a physiological urge to gag. To complete their supposedly pure, elevated romance, they had effortlessly offered me up as a sacrificial lamb. Could the world get any more absurd? I wasn’t going to give them what they wanted. I slightly shifted my body, coldly dodging Declan’s hand as he reached for mine. His smile froze instantly. Behind me, I could clearly feel Mike’s piercing gaze locked onto my back. “Sylvia, what’s wrong? You finally got rid of that guy, aren’t you happy? You always said you wanted to marry me. The man you truly love is me.” Mike let out an incredibly grating sneer. He deliberately held up his divorce certificate, sporting the smug look of a victor. “Sylvia, we are legally finished. Let me give you a piece of advice. Don’t stick to me like chewing gum anymore. You were acting so aloof inside. What, the moment you step outside, you’re already dying to take it back?” “Sylvia,” Phoebe’s voice was sickeningly sweet, yet laced with hidden venom. “Please, stop trying to steal Mike from me. We are soulmates. Doesn’t Declan love you too? We both get what we want. Isn’t this the perfect ending.”

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My welcome home party turned into an absolute joke. After five years together, my girlfriend finally showed up, completely late, with a frat boy trailing behind her. The kid didn’t even hesitate. He looked me up and down with a smug smirk. “Man, doing a Ph.D. overseas takes forever. You’re getting pretty old, aren’t you?” He let out a dry, mocking laugh. “At your age, not being married… doesn’t your family get anxious?” Then came the venom. “Oh, wait. I forgot. Your parents are dead.” My face turned stone cold. But Nina, the woman who had always been my gentle anchor, just chuckled and ruffled the kid’s hair. She looked at me with zero remorse. “Noah is young. He doesn’t know any better. Be the mature one, Oliver. Don’t take it personally.” Later that night, near the patio fire pit, I caught Noah pinning her against the brick wall, kissing her hard. He growled against her lips, “Baby, don’t you dare walk down the aisle with him.” Nina let out a breathless moan. “I’m not marrying that cursed loser. I only want to be yours.” Eventually, I let her go. I walked away and married someone else, exactly like she wanted. I never expected her to fly across the Atlantic, stay awake for days, and drop to her knees in front of me, sobbing. “Please. Please marry me.” 1 But that came later. The nightmare started at the party. Nina had texted the group chat saying she was running behind. The guys at the bar nudged my shoulder. “Nina is probably picking up some insane welcome back gift for you, man!” I just smiled, nursing my beer, imagining exactly how I was going to pull her into my arms. Three years of a long distance relationship while I was studying in Europe had almost driven me insane with missing her. Two hours later, as the bartender was calling last orders, Nina finally strolled in. Except she wasn’t alone. She had a younger guy glued to her side. I took a step toward her, but my boots froze to the floor. The silver engagement ring that belonged to me was currently gleaming on Noah’s index finger. The guys around me went wide eyed. Ben leaned in and whispered to Nina, “Are you out of your mind? Why did you bring him?” Nina waved it off like it was nothing. “What is the big deal? Noah wanted to come, so I brought him.” She noticed my eyes locked on the ring. A flicker of panic crossed her face, but she quickly masked it with a casual shrug. “Your ring was just sitting in the drawer collecting dust. I let Noah wear it for fun. You do not mind, right, Oliver?” I stood there, paralyzed. That was the ring she used to guard with her life. If anyone even touched her jewelry box, she would throw a fit. Looking at the woman standing in front of me, I felt like I was staring at a stranger. The sweet, affectionate girl I left behind would never speak to me like this. Noah caught my gaze and threw the ring onto the floor like a piece of trash. “Sloppy seconds from an old guy. Keep it. I do not want it.” The silver band bounced against the hardwood and rolled straight into the glowing embers of the fire pit. Nina did not even glance at the flames. She immediately grabbed Noah’s hand, inspecting his fingers with frantic worry. “Are you okay? Did you hurt your hand?” My body moved on instinct. I hunched over, reaching toward the heat to save the ring. Her voice from the night I proposed echoed in my ears. Oliver, I love you. I swear I will love you until the stars burn out. Feeling the heavy stares of everyone in the room, I forced myself to stop. I pulled my hand back. I was not going to humiliate myself any further. 2 My face was completely drained of color. Ben saw my expression and shoved Noah’s shoulder. “Watch your mouth, kid. Apologize to Oliver right now.” Noah scoffed, rolling his eyes. “The guy literally got his own parents killed. I was doing him a favor. Wearing his ring is bad luck anyway.” That was a line nobody crossed. That was the deepest, most agonizing wound in my soul. I could not fathom how Nina could take my darkest trauma and serve it up as gossip to her boy toy. The anger boiled over. I clenched my fist, pulling my arm back to wipe that smug look off his face. Nina instantly threw herself in front of him, shoving her hands against my chest. “What the hell are you doing!” Almost simultaneously, the rest of the guys stepped in, acting as a human shield for Noah. “Relax, Oliver! He just has no filter. Let it go!” “Yeah, man. Noah is a good kid. He did not mean anything by it!” I froze. What a sick, twisted joke. My closest friends and the love of my life were standing in a united front with a guy I barely knew. And I was standing entirely alone. Three years. It only took three years for my entire world to get hijacked. Nina glared at me, her voice sharp and unforgiving. “Are you done throwing a tantrum? Did he say anything wrong? You are the reason your parents died! Am I lying?” She sneered. “You went off to Europe, lived the high life, and forgot everything, did you?” My breath hitched. She always knew exactly where to slide the knife. She was right. If I had not thrown a fit as a kid begging for candy from the backseat, my dad would not have turned around. He would not have taken his eyes off the road. The truck running the red light would have missed us. But the part about the high life? During my three years abroad, I drowned in fear, isolation, helplessness, and crushing poverty. There was no high life. A cold drop slid down my cheek. I realized with a numb shock that I was actually crying. Seeing the tear, Nina’s harsh expression cracked. She took a half step toward me, instinct taking over. But Noah grabbed her wrist, pulling her back. A dozen eyes stared at my pathetic breakdown. The familiar sensation of absolute helplessness washed over me. I turned and practically jogged to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face. I should have seen the signs. Over the last year, our texts had dried up. Our phone calls turned into hurried excuses. We barely exchanged three sentences a week. I could not even remember the last time we FaceTimed. After I got my breathing under control, I walked back out. That was when I found them in the shadows of the hallway. Noah had her backed against the wall, kissing her with bruised intensity. Noah pulled back just enough to speak. “Baby, don’t you dare walk down the aisle with him.” Nina let out a soft, breathy sound. “I’m not marrying that cursed loser. I only want to be yours.” 3 The party died down. People slowly filtered out. My phone buzzed in my pocket. I stared at the screen and answered on autopilot. “Oliver! Why did you fly back to the States? Are you not coming back here?” When I did not answer, the voice on the other end grew frantic. “Talk to me!” My throat felt like it was lined with glass. “I am coming back.” My girl, my crew, they all belonged to Noah now. There was nothing left for me in this city. Harper let out a massive sigh of relief on the phone before her tone shifted. “Are you crying? Where are you? I am booking a flight right now. Wait for me.” The moment I hung up, Nina’s voice sliced through the silence behind me. Her face was dark with suspicion. “Who the hell are you talking to? Is it a woman? Do I know her?” I ignored her and kept walking toward the exit. She lunged forward, grabbing my wrist with a painful grip. She was not going to let it go. I gave her a deadpan answer just to get her off my back. “A colleague from the lab. She needed the passcode for a data file.” That seemed to satisfy her. She loosened her grip and tugged me toward the parking lot. “Let’s go. My parents are waiting for us at home.” It was only then I realized Noah had slipped away unnoticed. My dad and Nina’s dad had served in the military together. They were brothers in arms. After my parents passed, Nina’s family took me in. I grew up in their house. Out of basic respect, I had to go see them. I walked up to her car and opened the passenger door. Sitting right on the seat was a custom cushion embroidered with Noah’s initials. A tacky little crown sticker was slapped on the dashboard. The neck pillow literally said Prince Noah’s Throne. He did this on purpose. He was marking his territory. I stood there for a long moment, debating if I should just sit in the back. Nina looked over at me, her tone defensive. “Don’t sit there. Noah gets super weird about people touching his stuff. Be the bigger person.” She remembered that Noah was possessive over a seat. But she completely forgot that I get violently car sick and can only ever ride in the front. I did not argue. I shut the door and pulled open the back door. The first thing I saw was a crumpled set of crimson lace lingerie kicked under the floor mat. During those two hours she was late to my party… those two hours where I sat checking the door every five minutes with a stupid, hopeful smile on my face… they were sweating all over the back seat of this car. What an absolute joke my life was. 4 When we walked through the front door, Nina’s parents practically tackled me with hugs. “You are home… look at you, finally home.” After the initial warmth and catching up, Nina’s mom grabbed my arm and pulled out a stack of elegant cardstock. “Look, Oliver. Tell me which invitation design you like. I have been obsessing over your wedding details for months!” Wedding? I immediately took a step back. “Mrs. Davis, we are not…” Nina cut me off instantly. She flopped down onto the expensive leather sofa. “Mom, you guys handle the small details. Oliver is jet lagged and exhausted.” I stared at her, baffled. She was talking like the wedding was actually happening. Then what was the plan with Noah? Her parents exchanged a knowing look and laughed. “Girls always side with their men! You used to fly out to Europe to visit Oliver all the time, but now that he is back, you two can finally be together every day!” Nina looked genuinely panicked for a split second and frantically changed the subject. Every alarm bell in my head went off. I pulled out my phone and texted Ben. Hey, can you check Nina’s social media for the last three years for me? In those three years, Nina had never visited me once. Not a single time. Ben replied instantly. Nothing out of the ordinary. Why? I did not buy it. I texted a few other guys from the crew. They all gave me the exact same story. I almost convinced myself I was paranoid. Then I remembered a burner account I made years ago to check a local restaurant’s hidden menu. I logged in and searched for Nina’s profile. An endless wall of photos loaded onto the screen. It was suffocating. Every single post was a selfie of her and Noah. They had been touring the globe. Paris, Rome, Tokyo, Bali. The room started spinning. I felt like I was going to throw up. Over the last three years, I had begged her to come see me. I scraped together pennies hoping we could meet halfway. She always said she was slammed with corporate projects. I waited three years. She had time to travel the entire world with a frat boy. But she could not spare a weekend to jump on a two hour budget flight to see me in a neighboring country. 5 When I first got my Ph.D. acceptance letter, I was going to turn it down. I had zero money. But Nina’s parents were wealthy, and they insisted I go. They liked the prestige of having a doctor in the family. They promised to send my tuition and living expenses through Nina’s bank account every semester. For the first few months, things were okay. Then the money completely stopped. Nina claimed there was a banking issue, then said her accounts were frozen, then just stopped replying. I had to take on three brutal part time jobs washing dishes, tutoring, and hauling boxes just to pay my university fees. Because I was broke, I had to rent a rotting apartment in a neighborhood crawling with junkies and gangs. My build was not exactly intimidating compared to the massive guys loitering on my corner. Every night was a survival game. I locked every deadbolt, wedged a chair under the handle, and pushed my heavy wardrobe against the front door. Even then, drunk men would pound on the thin wood, screaming threats. I used to call Nina in the middle of the night, shaking, just trying to hear a familiar voice to keep the panic attacks at bay. She would sigh into the receiver. “Babe, I am super stressed at the office. Just tough it out. The sun will be up soon.” Then she would hang up. I would sit on the edge of my mattress until dawn, gripping a kitchen knife with white knuckles, too terrified to blink. I kept scrolling through her secret profile. I found the post from that exact night. Younger guys are such babies. My silly Noah is terrified of thunderstorms. Had to cuddle him all night to get him to sleep. Underneath the photo were comments from Ben and the rest of the crew. Hey, that is our boy! Give him some extra love! Protect Noah at all costs! P.S. Make sure you hide this from Oliver. Everyone knew. Every single one of them. And they all covered for her. While I was bleeding myself dry, working until my hands cracked, trying to finish my degree early so I could marry her… she had slowly infected my entire friend group. She turned my brothers into Noah’s loyal soldiers. They boxed me out. I was the punchline to a joke I did not even know was being told. My skin was completely devoid of color. Nina’s mom noticed and assumed it was the jet lag. She told Nina to drive me to our place. I walked like a zombie following Nina into the garage. The moment I saw her car, a violent shudder ran down my spine. The image of the red lace was burned into my retinas. I gritted my teeth and violently ripped my arm out of her grip. “Back off. Do not touch me.” Nina took a deep breath, playing the patient girlfriend. “How else are you going to get home?” I did not say a word. I turned around and started walking down the driveway into the night. I walked step by dragging step. The sun vanished completely. The suburban streets went pitch black. Nina trailed slowly behind me in her car, the headlights casting a long, mocking shadow ahead of me. Years ago, she knew I hated city noise, so she insisted we buy a house deep in the suburbs. I walked for two straight hours. My dress shoes tore the skin off the back of my heels. When I finally unlocked the front door, Nina stormed in behind me, her face twisted with rage. “What the hell is your problem?” “You go overseas for a few years and come back acting like a dramatic, fragile princess!” Who made me fragile? I survived the absolute trenches for three years. I clawed my way out of the mud. I had zero right to be fragile. I ignored her shouting. I just stared at the interior of the house. My quiet study was gone. It was now an RGB lit gaming room packed with high end consoles. The bathroom vanity was cluttered with men’s cologne and skincare brands I did not use. Even the toothbrush holder had a cute little label that read Noah’s Property. This was supposed to be our sanctuary. The home we built. Now, every corner reeked of another man. I was too exhausted to fight. I walked down the hall and opened the guest room door, just wanting a bed. Sitting dead center on the mattress was Noah. He was wearing my father’s wedding suit. I stopped breathing. That suit was the only physical item I had left of my dad in this entire world. My dad used to point at that suit and tell me, When you get married, wear this. And protect your wife the way I protected your mother. That is what makes a man. Now, that sacred fabric was draped over Noah’s shoulders. He had taken scissors to the vintage lining, letting the yellowed fabric fall to the floor. The subtle embroidered details had been ripped out. My dad was heavily built. A soldier. Noah was lanky. So Noah had haphazardly pinned and stitched the fabric to make it tighter. Seeing me in the doorway, Noah gave me a sick, taunting smile and flexed his shoulders, intentionally stretching the fragile seams. A loud tearing sound echoed in the quiet room. The back seam split wide open. Outside, a massive crack of thunder rattled the windows. I flinched. The sound physically broke something inside me. I watched my dad die all over again. I lost my mind. I grabbed a heavy ceramic vase from the hallway table and hurled it at the floor, shattering it into pieces. I screamed until my vocal cords bled. “Who gave you the right to touch that!” “Take it off! Take it off right now!” Noah faked a look of absolute terror and scrambled behind Nina, though I could see the victorious smirk playing on his lips.

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My husband, Carter, had a first love named Jessica. Once, Jessica got into a shouting match with a guy over a minor biking accident. To help her vent her frustration, Carter abused his power as a police captain and threw the man in a holding cell on bogus charges. That petty act of favoritism left the man with a criminal record and a heart full of venom. Sometime later, that same man kicked down the door to my in-laws’ house. He held Carter’s parents and his younger sister hostage with a hunting knife, demanding that Carter show up and apologize. Panicking, I called Carter. But he was too busy picking up Jessica’s son from kindergarten. Not only did he refuse to believe me, but he also cursed me out, calling me a vicious, jealous bitch. He said my lies were pathetic and asked who I was putting this show on for. In desperation, I dialed 911. The emergency dispatcher who answered the call was none other than Jessica. Over the line, she laughed at me. She called me a lunatic, accused me of cursing Carter’s family, and labeled me a psycho. She warned me to never call again, threatening to have Carter arrest me for making a false report. Eventually, the intruder lost his mind waiting for Carter. Right in front of my eyes, he brought his hunting knife down on my in-laws and my sister-in-law. 1 I went to visit my husband’s parents for our usual weekly dinner. The moment I pushed the front door open, I froze. A stocky man in his fifties was standing in the living room, clutching a serrated hunting knife. His wild eyes locked onto me. “Do not take another step! You walk in here, and I kill them all!” On the living room floor, my father-in-law Arthur, my mother-in-law Helen, and my sister-in-law Sarah were bound tightly with thick rope. The man had his heavy work boot pressed firmly against Arthur’s head. Seeing me, Arthur struggled to lift himself up. The man immediately delivered a brutal kick to Arthur’s stomach. “Don’t move! You twitch again, and you are the first to die!” He pointed the bloody tip of the knife at my chest. “Stay back! Who are you? Where is that bastard Carter?” “He locked me up. Because of him, my son got rejected from the military, and my daughter lost her college scholarship. He ruined my entire family. If he does not come here and fix this today, I am going to slaughter his.” It hit me. This was Gary. Jessica had gotten into a minor scrape with him while riding her bike. To play the hero for his ex-girlfriend, Carter used his badge to charge Gary with assault and locked him up. Carter had even bragged about it to me at home. Now Gary was out, and he had come for blood. His screaming echoed down the hall. Neighbors began creeping out of their apartments, crowding the stairwell in absolute shock. Seeing Gary’s hand shaking with rage, I held my hands up slowly. “Gary, please. I am Carter’s wife. Do not do anything stupid. I am calling him right now. I will make him come here.” My hands trembled violently as I pulled out my phone and dialed Carter’s number. When he finally answered, I frantically explained the nightmare unfolding in his parents’ living room, begging him to get there immediately. Instead of panic, Carter’s voice dripped with absolute disgust. “Rachel, are you mentally ill? I am helping Jessica pick up her kid for one afternoon, and you invent a horror story like this?” “Jessica has a shift at the dispatch center today, so I promised to take Tyler to the amusement park. Stop annoying me.” Click. He hung up. Because my phone was on speaker, Gary and every neighbor in the hallway heard every single word. Whispers broke out behind me. “What kind of son is that? He is a cop, and he won’t even save his own family?” “Did you hear him? He is busy playing daddy to another woman’s kid.” “He is worse than an animal. Arthur raised a monster.” Gary’s face twisted into something demonic. Seeing him grip the knife tighter, I dropped to my knees on the hardwood floor. “Please! I am begging you, please do not hurt them!” I slammed my forehead against the floor, ignoring the sharp pain. “I will get him here! Give me a few more minutes, please!” Carter wasn’t answering anymore. I had no choice but to call the station. I dialed 911. The line clicked open. “911, what is your emergency?” The voice belonged to Jessica. Carter had pulled strings to get her a temp job at the emergency dispatch center. I didn’t care who it was. I screamed our address and told her a man was holding Carter’s family hostage with a knife. “Get Carter here now! If he doesn’t come, his parents and sister are going to die!” A cold, mocking laugh echoed through the receiver. “Rachel, have you completely lost your mind? Just to stop Carter from spending time with my son, you are cursing his own parents to die? You really are a wonderful wife.” “The emergency line is not your personal drama hotline. If you fake another report, I will have you thrown in a cell.” The line went dead. The neighbors behind me saw what happened and immediately pulled out their own phones to call 911. Every single one of them was met with Jessica’s threats and hung up on. Realizing Carter was never coming, Gary completely snapped. “Fine! He ruined my family, so nobody gets to live!” Gary grabbed a fistful of Arthur’s gray hair, yanked his head back, and dragged the hunting knife across his throat. Blood coated the living room. 2 Gary ran. After slashing Arthur’s throat, he drove the blade deep into Helen’s chest. Both of them died on the floor. I only managed to throw myself in front of Sarah. In his psychotic rage, Gary wanted to make Sarah suffer. He slashed her face open, then drove the knife straight through her hand, pinning it to the floorboards. He ran out the door waving the bloody knife. The terrified neighbors scattered, completely powerless to stop him as he disappeared into the busy city streets. By the time I got Sarah’s bleeding body into the emergency room, the local police finally showed up at the hospital. Deputy Blake walked up to me. He looked at the harsh red light of the operating room, his face pale with horror. “Rachel, what the hell happened? Why didn’t you call us?” I sat slumped in the corner of the hallway, shivering uncontrollably. “I did. The dispatcher said I was making a fake report.” “I called your captain. He was too busy picking up a kid.” Blake looked confused. “A kid? What kid? You and the Captain don’t have kids.” I looked up, meeting his eyes. “Not mine. Jessica’s kid.” “She was the one on the 911 line. She told me I was crazy and threatened to arrest me.” Blake slammed his fist into the hospital wall. “This is completely insane! I am calling him right now.” He pulled out his radio phone and dialed Carter’s personal number. When Carter picked up, Blake didn’t hold back. “Carter, where the hell are you!” Carter’s tone immediately turned hostile. “Blake, remember your rank. I am the Captain. You don’t get to interrogate me.” “I am at the airport terminal. Make it quick, I am busy.” “The airport? What the hell are you doing at the airport?” “I have been working too hard, and the station is quiet. Jessica and Tyler have been begging to go to the Bahamas. I took my annual leave to take them on a vacation to relax.” Blake let out a hollow, furious laugh. “Carter, your mother and father are dead. Your sister is currently bleeding out in an operating room. And you are taking a vacation? Is your brain rotting?” Carter scoffed over the line. “Blake, I thought we were friends. I can’t believe you are teaming up with my psycho wife to play this sick joke.” “Do not think I don’t know you guys orchestrated this. What did Rachel promise you to make you curse my family like this?” “I am spending the next few days with Jessica and her boy. Do not call this number again.” The call disconnected. Blake tried calling back immediately, but it went straight to voicemail. The phone was off. At that exact moment, the red light above the operating room flicked off. 3 The surgeon pushed through the swinging doors, peeling off his bloody gloves. “Family of Sarah Winston?” I scrambled to my feet. “I am. I am her sister-in-law.” The doctor looked utterly defeated. “We saved her life. But the laceration on her right cheek was extremely deep. It is going to leave a severe scar. As for her right hand… the tissue and nerve damage was catastrophic. We had no choice but to amputate at the wrist.” “She lost a massive amount of blood. She is in a coma and being moved to the ICU.” In a fraction of a second, every ounce of strength evaporated from my bones. The fluorescent lights blurred, the room spun, and I collapsed backward. A couple of nurses caught me under the arms and guided me to a plastic waiting chair. Sitting there, the tears finally broke loose. Carter and I had been married for five years. I had moved across the country for him, leaving my own family behind. Whenever Carter and I fought, Arthur and Helen always took my side. Sarah treated me like her own flesh and blood. Whenever Carter made me cry, Sarah would literally point her finger in his face and scream at him. They never let me feel alone in that house. I loved them far more than I ever loved Carter. And now, because of Carter’s pathetic ego and his obsession with another woman, he had personally handed his parents a death sentence and mutilated his own sister. I dragged my exhausted body to the billing counter and paid for Sarah’s ICU room. Standing behind the thick glass pane, looking at the vibrant, college-graduated girl reduced to a broken body covered in bandages and tubes, my chest caved in. She didn’t even have her right hand anymore. Blake called Carter’s phone until his battery died. It stayed off. He tried calling Jessica’s number. It rang twice and then went to voicemail. They were fully committed to their romantic getaway. I didn’t have the energy to care about his affairs anymore. Aside from giving statements to the detectives, I had to arrange a funeral for my in-laws and keep a 24-hour watch over Sarah. The gruesome double homicide had already made the local news. The rumor mill was working overtime. I stayed awake for two days straight until Sarah finally opened her eyes. When she saw me through the ICU glass, tears poured down her bandaged face. The doctors warned me to keep her stress levels low, so I lied and told her to focus on healing, hiding the truth about her parents. Three days later, the medical examiner released the bodies. I arranged the cremation. Walking out of the crematorium, I placed two wooden urns on the back seat of my car. I started the engine, looking at the polished wood in the rearview mirror. “Dad, Mom, we are going home.” 4 Sarah was young, and her physical recovery was fast. By the fifth day, she was moved to a regular room. When I finally broke the news about her parents, she didn’t scream. She just stared at the wall and gave a slow, numb nod. I was terrified the shock had broken her mind. “Sarah, please cry. Do not hold it in. I am right here. I am not going anywhere.” She slowly turned her head. She stared into my eyes with a chilling emptiness. A long minute passed before a gut-wrenching wail tore from her throat. I wrapped my arms around her trembling shoulders, holding her tight. “Let it out. I’ve got you.” Because she was sobbing so violently, the stitches on her face tore open. I had to run to the hallway and scream for a doctor. As the doctor methodically re-stitched her torn cheek, Sarah laid there perfectly still. Her calmness was terrifying. “Rachel, where is my brother?” she asked bluntly the moment the doctor left. “Sarah, he…” I stammered, completely lost on how to explain the disgusting truth. “Forget it. You don’t have to say it.” Sarah let out a ragged sigh. “When that guy kicked our door down and tied us up, screaming about my brother, I knew Carter had ruined someone’s life.” She covered her eyes with her remaining hand, her body shaking. “I just never thought he would let Mom and Dad die for it.” I had temporarily placed the urns in my home office. I was waiting for Sarah to be discharged so we could bury them together. She was their daughter; it was her right to be there. As for Carter, I truly did not care if he lived or died. Even if you ignored the two dead bodies and the severed hand, his blatant affair was enough to make my skin crawl. I could never sleep in the same bed as him again. Now, every time I heard his name, all I saw was the gaping wound on Sarah’s face, the ocean of blood on the floor, and the absolute despair in Arthur’s eyes before the knife fell. I sat in silence, holding her shoulder. “Rachel,” Sarah whispered into the sterile hospital room. “After all this, do you still consider me your family?” I nodded hard. “Yes. I will be your sister for the rest of my life. Once you are healed, I will take you to the best plastic surgeons in the country. We will fix your face.” “Rachel, I heard you on the phone that day. I heard everything he said.” Her voice turned to absolute ice. “I want him and that bitch to burn in hell.”

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On our wedding anniversary, I unexpectedly found a pair of provocative lingerie in my wife’s car. Seething with anger, I drove directly to her law firm. As I approached the lounge, I overheard her conversation with her colleagues. “Ms. Shaw always seems so buttoned-up, I never expected her to be so wild in private,” a male voice teased. Another person chimed in, “Didn’t you know? Ms. Shaw and her childhood friend signed an agreement. As long as he’s not married, she has to help him with his ‘needs’.” “Poor Noah Vance, he still thinks Ms. Shaw is frigid,” someone laughed. My wife took a sip of coffee, her tone casual. “It’s fine. He’s been going on dates recently. Once he gets married, I’ll make up everything I owe him.” “Noah’s going to have a rough time after that, hahaha…” Everyone burst into laughter. I clamped my hand over my mouth, barely stifling a sob. 1 Walking down the street, utterly distraught, I couldn’t even remember how I got home. I smashed our wedding photo, staring blankly at the shattered fragments scattered across the floor. I don’t know how much time passed before Amelia Shaw’s voice came from behind me. “Noah, what are you doing?” She walked closer, her brows furrowed as she looked at the broken glass. “I know I’ve been busy with work lately and haven’t had time for you.” She continued, “But didn’t I say I’d make it up to you properly in a few days? Do you have to be like this?” I crouched on the floor, picking up the pieces of the wedding photo one by one. My finger was cut by a sharp edge of glass. A bead of blood welled up, dripping onto the white tile floor like a tiny red flower. I stared at the drop of blood for a few seconds, feeling no pain. My heart had shattered long before my finger. Amelia stood behind me, sighing. She pulled a tissue from the coffee table and offered it to me. “Alright, stop picking it up.” I didn’t take it. She then rummaged through a drawer, found a bandage, and bent down to put it on my finger. “I know I’ve neglected you lately; that’s my fault.” Her voice was soft, and her slender fingers wrapped around mine. “Once this busy period is over, I’ll take you to the Scottish Highlands, okay?” She asked, “Haven’t you always wanted to see the snow?” I looked at her, her expression earnest as she tried to soothe me. I wanted to laugh. And I wanted to cry. Three hours ago, I had heard her colleagues joking in the lounge. “Everyone knows about Ms. Shaw’s agreement with her childhood friend. As long as he’s not married, Ms. Shaw has to take care of his ‘needs’.” And now, she was still putting on an act for me. “Noah, Noah, are you listening?” I nodded. “Yeah, Scottish Highlands.” My voice was so flat it sounded alien even to me. Amelia probably thought I had calmed down and reached out to help me off the floor. Just then, the bedroom door opened. Harold Borle emerged from inside, wearing only a silk robe and rubbing his eyes. His hair was disheveled, his clothes unkempt. There were several glaring red marks on his neck and collarbone. Harold paused slightly when he saw us in the living room. Then he quickly pulled at the lapel of his robe, covering the marks on his neck. But his expression showed no panic at all. In fact, a faint, almost imperceptible smile played on his lips. “Amelia? Noah?” He tilted his head, his voice soft and sweet. “When did you two get back?” Amelia’s face changed. She glanced at me. Then she quickly walked over to Harold, whispering something to him. I couldn’t hear what she said. But I saw Harold pout, tugging at her sleeve, and whispered back, sounding wronged, “But I was asleep.” He added, “It’s all your fault for wearing me out.” As he said this, he deliberately glanced in my direction. My temples throbbed. Blood seeped from the edges of the bandage, dripping down between my fingers. I heard my breathing grow heavier and heavier. That phrase echoed repeatedly in my mind: “Poor Noah, he still thinks Ms. Shaw is frigid.” Frigid. I had been married to Amelia for five years. On our wedding night, she said she was too tired and told me to go to bed early. Every night after that, she was either working late, or entertaining clients, or simply slept in the study. I thought she was naturally low on desire. I was considerate of her, never bringing it up myself. To avoid putting any pressure on her, I even kept myself fully dressed at home. And what was the result? She wasn’t frigid. She just didn’t want to touch me. All her energy and passion were reserved for the man in front of me. I took one step forward. Then another. Harold Borle was still pretending to be innocent behind Amelia. I rushed forward and slapped him hard across the face. The sound was crisp and loud, echoing in the spacious living room. Harold shrieked, clutching his face as he stumbled backward. Amelia’s reaction was faster than I expected. She spun around, shielding Harold completely behind her. Then she turned back to me. Her gaze was so cold it sent chills through me from head to toe. “Noah, what the hell is wrong with you?” She demanded, “Harold was just staying the night; did you really need to hit him?” I stared intently at her back, shielding Harold. Five years. She had never once protected me with such a stance. “Staying the night?” My voice trembled. “Amelia Shaw, look at his neck. And then look at whose clothes he’s wearing.” Amelia’s frown deepened, her gaze avoiding mine. “What nonsense are you talking about?” Harold peeked out from behind her, his eyes red-rimmed, biting his lip in a pathetic display of hurt. “Amelia, darling… you misunderstood…” Harold huddled in Amelia’s arms, his body trembling slightly. He raised his hand, pressing it against his slightly red and swollen cheek. Tears began to stream down. “Amelia, it hurts so much…” He whimpered, “If Noah can’t stand me, I’ll leave right now… I don’t want you two to argue because of me…” His tear-streaked, pitiful act successfully provoked Amelia. Before I could react, she suddenly grabbed my wrist. I felt a tremendous force, and my body was brutally flung backward. My lower back slammed hard against the corner of a cabinet behind me. Intense pain instantly swept through my entire body. I gasped, my legs gave out, and I nearly crumpled to the ground. I gritted my teeth, desperately holding on, refusing to fall. Amelia clenched her fists, her voice cold. “Apologize to Harold Borle.” I looked up in disbelief, my eyes bloodshot. Apologize? Why should I? I practically screamed. “Never!” I yelled. “Why should I apologize to a pathetic excuse for a man who slept with someone else’s wife?” The moment I finished speaking, a flicker of anger crossed Amelia’s eyes. Her face was ashen. “Noah, I know you’ve never liked Harold Borle.” She took a step forward. “But there’s nothing going on between us.” Her thin lips parted, her gaze evasive. “Do you really have to use such vile words to insult him?” “Nothing going on?” “Amelia Shaw, do you think I’m an idiot?” I almost laughed aloud. I turned and walked into the walk-in closet, dragged out a suitcase, and started throwing clothes into it. My hands were shaking, and the items were stuffed in haphazardly. Amelia followed me to the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest. “Think carefully,” her voice came from behind me, icy cold. “Once you walk out that door, don’t even think about coming back.” My hand paused. Then I zipped up the suitcase and stood up. “Couldn’t ask for anything better.” Harold Borle’s soft sobs echoed from the living room. As I dragged the suitcase past them, I heard Harold whisper, “Amelia, darling, go after Noah. It’s all my fault…” Amelia didn’t move. I knew she wouldn’t follow. It was raining outside. A heavy rain. I hadn’t brought an umbrella. The wheels of the suitcase rolled through puddles, soaking my pant legs. I didn’t start crying until I walked out of the complex gates. Not for Amelia, but for these five years of my life. So foolish. Truly so foolish. The next morning, I went to the law firm to collect my personal belongings. I had worked as Amelia’s assistant for three years. Calling myself an assistant was a stretch; it was more like doing odd jobs. Serving tea and water, organizing files, greeting clients. The partners treated me as if I were invisible, openly mocking my marriage behind my back. And I, like an idiot, thought they were just being polite to me. The underground garage was quiet. I clutched a bag containing certificates and personal documents, looking down for my car keys. The sound of leather shoes echoed from afar. Clack, clack, clack. I looked up. Harold Borle stood leaning against my car, wearing a white shirt. He looked at me, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “Noah, already leaving?” He tilted his head. “What a shame… Married for five years, and you probably never even saw all of your wife, did you?” I tightened my grip on the document bag, walked around him towards the driver’s seat. But he followed, his leather shoes clicking, and leaned close to my ear. “Let me tell you, Amelia is wild in bed.” He whispered, “It always lasts for hours.” He paused, then adopted a look of feigned realization. “Oh, my bad, you wouldn’t know.” My hands were shaking. “If that’s all you have to say,” I said, my voice strained. “Please, leave.” I opened the car door expressionlessly. Harold Borle suddenly rushed over, snatched the document bag from my hands, and dumped its contents into a puddle nearby. “What are you doing?!” I rushed to pick them up. The documents were already soaked in dirty water, the ink bleeding. “Smack!” “Smack!” Two sharp sounds came from behind me. I spun around. Harold Borle was forcefully slapping his own face. Once, twice. Hitting himself with extreme brutality. Within seconds, his cheeks were red and swollen. Then he directly collapsed to the ground, letting out a heart-wrenching scream. “Help… Stop hitting me… Noah, please stop hitting me…” Hurried footsteps approached from a distance. Amelia Shaw rushed from the garage entrance. She had originally been walking. Hearing Harold Borle’s screams, she immediately ran over, frantic. Harold Borle scrambled into her arms, burying his face in her shoulder. “Amelia, darling… I just came to tell Noah not to leave…” He whimpered, “But he not only hit me… he said he was going to kill me…” Amelia looked down at Harold Borle’s swollen face, and her entire demeanor changed. She strode over to me and snatched the car keys from my hand. “Noah.” Her voice was devoid of any warmth. “I thought a night to cool off would make you think straight.” She sneered. “I never imagined you could be so vicious.” “Amelia, he hit himself—” “Enough!” Her scream echoed through the garage. I clamped my mouth shut. The remaining words stuck in my throat, unable to be swallowed. She wouldn’t believe me. Never would. “Kneel.” Amelia stood before me, her face expressionless as she spoke the word. “Apologize to Harold Borle. Apologize until he forgives you.” My entire body froze. Kneel? She told me to kneel? “Amelia, he slapped himself! Check the surveillance—” “The surveillance cameras on this floor of the garage are broken,” Harold Borle suddenly blurted out from behind her. I turned to look at him, my fingers unconsciously clenching. He had deliberately chosen this spot. He had known there were no cameras here all along. “Amelia, darling…” Harold Borle began again. He softened his body, slowly sliding downwards. “My head feels a bit dizzy… Noah’s hitting me… it seemed pretty bad…” Amelia immediately rushed over, carefully supporting him. After a quick look, Amelia’s face became extremely grim. She turned and walked towards me. One hand grabbed my hair, pulling my head back. “Smack.” A slap landed on my face. My head buzzed. A second. A third. My lip was cut, and the taste of blood spread in my mouth. “Ame—” “Shut up. I don’t want to hear your excuses right now!” She kept hitting me. I don’t know how many slaps it took, but my knees gave out first, and I fell to the ground. Amelia stepped back, looking down at me as I knelt. “Those slaps are a lesson for you.” She warned. “If I ever find out you try to hurt Harold Borle again…” She crouched down, bringing her face close to mine. “Don’t test my patience.” She stood up, walked to Harold Borle, and bent down to help him up. Harold Borle leaned on her shoulder, mouthing a silent message to me. “Serves you right.” The engine started. The tires crunched over the puddles on the ground. Mud splashed all over my face and clothes. I knelt on the ground, my clothes covered in blood, water, and mud. The documents were scattered everywhere, completely ruined. The underground garage was empty, the lights stark and pale. I tried to get up. My arms were useless. I tried twice but couldn’t stand, falling back down. My vision began to blur. It was exhaustion. Or perhaps my heart had died, and my body simply refused to move. Through the haze, blinding headlights flashed. A black Maybach silently pulled up in front of me. The car door opened. A pair of hands lifted me from the ground. I smelled a faint, woody perfume. So clean. Utterly out of place in this dirty environment. Before I completely lost consciousness, I heard an unfamiliar woman’s voice.

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1 When my birth parents found me, they swore they would treat me and the imposter who had taken my place with absolute equality. We wore the same designer clothes, attended the same university, and were even married off to a set of twin brothers. It all fell apart the day the headlines screamed that the imposter’s husband was having an affair with a famous actress. In response, my parents called my husband over. And they arranged a mistress for him—a young, beautiful secretary. This, they said, was a special favor to me. The secretary had a clean background and, crucially, was infertile. She would never threaten my position as the wife of the younger Covington heir. I didn’t lose my temper. I just picked up my phone and called for an entire club’s worth of escorts. I told my family, “Why stop at one? If we’re going to do this, let’s do it with style. And if that’s not enough, I can always call for more.” My brother, Tristan, scowled, accusing me of being too extreme. He insisted our parents were only looking out for me. “Scarlett is prettier and more accomplished than you,” he sneered. “If even her husband cheated, what makes you think you can hold on to your marriage?” I nodded slowly, looking him straight in the eye. “He’s right. I can’t. So I’m done.” “I don’t want the husband. And I don’t want any of you, either.” … My father’s hands trembled with rage. “You wretched girl! How could you say something so heartless to your own family?” My mother’s eyes welled up as she clutched her chest. “Seraphina, we searched so long for you. How can you throw us away so easily?” Tristan’s voice was a furious hiss. “You’re nothing but an ungrateful brat!” Just then, a breaking news alert flashed across the television screen. “Sources report that Ms. Scarlett Blackwood, heiress to the Blackwood Corporation, jumped from the balcony of her marital home at five o’clock this afternoon…” The camera showed Scarlett, pale as a ghost, being loaded into an ambulance. She’d jumped from the fifth floor, but right into the swimming pool below. She didn’t even have a scratch on her. But my parents and Tristan were already in a full-blown panic. “Hurry! Get the family hospital cleared out! I want the best team of specialists on standby!” I watched their frantic retreat, then calmly walked to the window. “Scarlett jumped. So I’ll jump, too. That’s only fair, isn’t it?” I made a move to climb onto the sill. Three terrified screams ripped through the air behind me. They scrambled back, yanking me away from the window with frantic strength. My mother clung to me, sobbing hysterically, while Tristan pinned my arms. My father slammed the window shut, locked it, and then, turning back, he slapped me hard across the face. “Seraphina, how dare you use suicide to threaten us?” Tristan and my mother froze. It was the first time any of them had laid a hand on me since they’d rescued me, covered in wounds, from an illegal sweatshop. My mother was the first to react. “What are you doing? You scared her! Apologize to Seraphina right now!” But I just stared at them, my cheek burning, my voice eerily calm. “You slapped me.” “So now you have to slap Scarlett. To be fair. Right?” All three of them stared at me as if I were a lunatic. My father’s voice shook with fury. “You’ve lost your mind!” I smiled. A broken, empty thing. “Isn’t this what you’ve been teaching me all along?” When they first brought me home, they spent a full week brainwashing me. They said they’d raised Scarlett for twenty years and loved her too deeply to send her back to her impoverished biological family. But they made a solemn vow: they would be perfectly, absolutely fair. Neither of us would ever feel neglected. And they kept their word. If Scarlett got a new haute couture gown, an identical one would appear in my closet. The family assets and company shares were divided equally between us, down to the last cent. If Tristan made a sarcastic remark to me, my parents would immediately force him to repeat the exact same words to Scarlett. Their love was perfectly distributed. No need to fight for it, no need to guess. After seeing so many online dramas about real and fake heiresses tearing each other apart, I once thought this arrangement was for the best. But then, everything soured. Scarlett hit her rebellious phase. She got into fights at school and started dating some dropout with bleached hair. My parents were heartbroken. As punishment, they made her kneel in the cold, dusty family chapel—and they dragged me there to kneel beside her. Their reasoning was flawless, in their eyes. “We share the good times and the bad. That’s what a real family does. That’s what’s fair.” Later, Scarlett flunked her college entrance exams. While my parents comforted her, they were also tearing up my acceptance letter to a top-tier university. They sent me to the same third-rate arts college abroad that Scarlett was going to. I’d studied sciences my whole life, but they changed my major to Arts Management, the same as hers. “You and Scarlett will both be taking over the family business someday, so it doesn’t matter what you study,” they’d said. “But we promised to be fair, which means you must receive the exact same education.” I knew something was deeply wrong. But after a childhood of being passed around and treated like dirt, I was desperate for a family. I couldn’t bear to let go of this fragile, imitation warmth. At least, I told myself, they were trying to be good to me. That delusion lasted until Scarlett became obsessed with Damien Covington, the eldest son of the Covington dynasty. And Damien, conveniently, had a twin brother, Daniel. My parents gave me no choice. They arranged my engagement to Daniel. Our weddings were set for the same day. Scarlett and I wore identical gowns and carried identical bouquets. The venue, the ceremony, even the seating charts for the guests were perfect mirror images of each other. When the priest read the vows, I saw Scarlett beaming with pure joy. But all I felt was a wave of nausea. Today, when they so casually tried to arrange a mistress for my husband, I finally understood the source of that feeling. Their idea of fairness wasn’t about treating me as an equal. It was about turning me into Scarlett’s living duplicate. But there was one thing they didn’t know. I had a way out. I’m not from this world. 2 I was transmigrated here. The System that brought me gave me one mission: to collect affection points from the three members of the Blackwood family. I was close to maxing them out. When I told the System I was giving up, it tried to reason with me. “Host, the affection points don’t lie. They truly care about you.” Before I could argue, my parents and Tristan had dragged me into the car and were speeding toward the hospital. “Are we going so I can be admitted alongside Scarlett?” I asked dryly. “We wouldn’t want her to feel an imbalance, after all.” The atmosphere in the car turned to ice. All three of them looked horrified, but they didn’t dare scold me again. My mother took my hand. “Seraphina, we’re bringing you because we’re a family. Scarlett will need your support.” Her voice softened. “We were wrong before. We hurt you, and it will never happen again.” Just as she finished speaking, Tristan’s phone rang. It was the hospital. Scarlett was pregnant, but the shock of her “jump” had put the pregnancy at risk. The doctors said she couldn’t handle any more stress. My father slammed on the brakes. “Seraphina, you never liked the smell of hospitals, did you? Why don’t you go do some shopping? Clear your head.” My mother pressed a black card into my hand. “Buy whatever you want. Take your time.” Tristan opened my door and practically pulled me out of the car. “Don’t you dare go near Scarlett and cause a scene,” he warned. “She can’t take it right now.” The car sped away, leaving me on the curb. I held the card and asked the System, “Did their affection points go up?” There was a long, strange silence. “…They went up a little.” I laughed, a humorless sound. “It seems your sensors aren’t very accurate. It’s confusing guilt for affection.” “Now,” I said, my voice hardening. “Initiate my exit protocol.” This time, the System didn’t hesitate. “Exit protocol confirmed. Initiating…” I walked into the nearest luxury department store and, for the first time, chose an outfit based on my own taste. I had just changed when Tristan called. His voice was urgent. “Get to the hospital. Now. You need to tell Scarlett that you’re pregnant, too.” “If you can convince her not to terminate her pregnancy, I’ll make Mom and Dad officially add your name to the family trust! I swear!” I was about to refuse, but he cut me off, his voice exploding with rage. “Seraphina Blackwood! I knew it! You’ve always been jealous of her!” “She’s fragile! If she goes through with an abortion, it could destroy her health!” “It’s just a little lie! It’s not like it’ll cost you anything!” No, it wouldn’t cost me a piece of my flesh. But it would cost me my freedom. They would lock me in the house to “gestate” alongside Scarlett. We would wear the same maternity clothes, eat the same nutritional meals. They’d probably even want our weight gain to be identical. Then, after ten months, they would find some random baby and hand it to me. But none of that mattered anymore. I was leaving. I looked up at the hospital looming in the distance. “What I mean is,” I said into the phone, my voice calm, “I don’t need my name on your family trust.” Tristan was silent for a second, then his voice dropped to a menacing growl. “You better not pull any stunts.” Inside the VIP hospital suite, my parents were fussing over Scarlett, who was propped up in bed. When they saw me walk in, their faces filled with worry and apprehension. Before I could say a word, Scarlett snatched a fruit knife from the bedside table and lunged, aiming for my stomach. “I don’t want this baby,” she shrieked, “and I won’t let you have one either!” 3 I didn’t dodge. I even grabbed her hand, guiding the blade, and pushed it deeper into myself. The System had warned me that a self-initiated exit would result in punishment. But there was a loophole: if I died as a direct result of the abuse from the Blackwood family, I would not only be freed but also receive compensation. I watched as my parents and Tristan rushed toward me, their faces contorted in horror. They were screaming for doctors, their hands fumbling to press against the bleeding wound. For the first time, Tristan’s face was a mask of pure, helpless confusion. A small smile touched my lips. Looks like I wasn’t going to die. Not yet. When I woke up, all three of them were by my bedside. They looked haggard, with dark circles under their eyes. Seeing me awake, Tristan spoke first. “Dad already slapped Scarlett.” I gave a faint “mm.” That small sound was like a spark to a powder keg. Tristan shot to his feet, his voice a low roar. “She cried all night because of that slap! The stress almost made her miscarry! And that’s all you have to say? What more do you want?” “I don’t want anything,” I said quietly. My father sighed heavily. “Seraphina, I’ll transfer a portion of Scarlett’s assets to you as compensation. You won’t be at a disadvantage in this, I promise.” My mother dabbed at her eyes. “Scarlett didn’t mean it, darling. She was just… overwrought…” I ignored them, my voice distant as if recalling a dream. “When I first came here, I got a kitten.” “Scarlett was playing with it, and it scratched her face.” “You said that to be fair, you had to do the same to me. You held the cat down and scratched my face with its claws.” “Then you had the cat put down.” The room fell into a dead silence. They were frozen, speechless. Finally, Tristan broke the silence, veins bulging in his neck as he yelled, “That’s not the same thing!” “Dad already promised you compensation! And besides, you’re fine, aren’t you?” Just then, the doctor walked in. “The patient had to have a hysterectomy. The family needs to be vigilant about preventing post-operative infections.” I slowly turned my head to look at the three statues standing by my bed. I smiled. “So, how are you going to make this fair?” My mother stammered, “S-Scarlett’s child will know you as their godmother… when you’re old, they’ll take care of you…” A laugh, sharp and self-mocking, escaped my lips. “So the assets you’re giving me as ‘compensation’ will ultimately go to her child anyway.” They opened their mouths, desperate to explain, but I cut them off, closing my eyes. “I was just kidding.” “I trust you. I trust that you will always be perfectly fair to both me and Scarlett.” 4 Tears welled in my parents’ eyes. They moved to embrace me, but I pushed them away. “I only have one request now.” “I want my own birthday.” “For the last ten years, I’ve had to share my birthday with Scarlett.” “I just want to eat a cake that’s all mine.” “I just want to hear you say ‘Happy Birthday’ to me, and only me.” They agreed without a moment’s hesitation. Racked with guilt, they planned a party of extravagant proportions. Every detail was dripping with luxury. And it was all kept a secret from Scarlett. The System’s voice echoed in my mind. “Are you… starting to feel reluctant to leave them?” I shook my head. Before the System chose me, I was an orphan with no one in the world. But it had shown me the original Seraphina’s memories from before she was lost—a life filled with warmth and genuine love from her family. That’s why I had agreed to come here. I believed they truly loved their daughter. For ten years, I waited, hoping to see a flicker of that love from the memories return. But I was done waiting. On the day of the party, just as I expected, Scarlett showed up. Her face was a mask of pure malice. “Do you really think Mom and Dad love you?” she hissed. “They found you years ago. But I was having a hard time, throwing tantrums, hurting myself. They were worried about me, so they decided not to bring you home. It was the same week your foster father almost…” She let the word hang in the air. “They only came for you later, when you were about to be beaten to death in that sweatshop, because they had no choice.” “But they promised me. They promised they’d use ‘fairness’ as an excuse to make sure you were always one step beneath me.” I looked at her, my expression unreadable. “Are you finished?” Scarlett’s face contorted with rage. “You just wait. In a minute, I’m going to ‘accidentally’ fall down the stairs and tell everyone you pushed me. Let’s see how calm you are when Mom and Dad throw you out!” I grabbed her wrist. “No need to pretend,” I said. “I’ll make it real for you.” And with all my strength, I shoved her down the grand staircase. My parents and Tristan, drawn by the noise, arrived just in time to see Scarlett tumble. My father lunged at me, his foot connecting brutally with the fresh stitches on my abdomen. The force sent me flying over the second-floor railing. I landed in the living room, crashing directly onto the five-tiered birthday cake. Cream and strawberry filling flooded my mouth. It was sweet. Just like the happiness I had always imagined. In the ensuing chaos, Tristan still remembered to have the guards drag me to the basement. “We’ll deal with you when we get back!” he roared. The basement was dark and cold. No one remembered me. Three days later, they finally returned, muttering about how they were going to punish me. But when they opened the basement door, all that greeted them was the thick, cloying stench of decay. From the cake. And from me.

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A two-week trip to the Caribbean had been just what I needed, the endless blue of the sea and sky slowly mending the fractures in my soul. Then the text message came, shattering the peace. It was from her. Her tone was a familiar blend of urgency and unquestionable entitlement. “My mom needs surgery. You’ve got savings, right? Get over here and pay for it.” Her words were a needle, instantly puncturing the fragile calm I’d carefully rebuilt. I stared out at the turquoise water, my fingers slowly tapping out a reply. “For something like that, you should probably ask your new husband.” My mind drifted back two weeks, to the moment I’d found the marriage certificate in her purse. The document felt like a brand against my skin. The man in the photo beside her was grinning, a dazzling, triumphant smile. And I, her boyfriend of five years, suddenly felt like a complete and utter fool. I didn’t shed a tear. I didn’t scream or demand an explanation. I just quietly zipped her purse shut, pretending I’d seen nothing. The next day, without a second thought, I booked a flight to the Caribbean, turned off my phone, and vanished from her world. 1 After sending the text, I immediately dragged Ava’s number into my block list. The screen went blessedly silent. I placed my phone face down on the arm of the deck chair, severing all ties to that other world. The salty air, thick with the unique humidity of the tropics, washed over my face. In the distance, the azure sea churned with white-capped waves, stretching to the horizon. But my world had been cleaved in two by that small, official document. The phone vibrated against the armrest, a persistent buzz against my fingertips. I didn’t need to look. I knew it was her. When her calls wouldn’t go through, she resorted to a barrage of texts. The first was a question. “Nathan, what the hell? Did you block me?” The second was pure rage. “Don’t you forget how my mom treated you! She’s lying in a hospital bed while you’re off living it up. Do you have a conscience?” The third was softer, tinged with a flicker of panic. “Nate, please, stop messing around. My mom really needs this money. I’m begging you.” I picked up the phone. The screen’s glare stung my eyes as I read the messages, and five years of memories flooded back, threatening to drown me. I remembered when we first graduated, crammed into a tiny studio apartment in the worst part of town. I’d used my first paycheck to buy her a suit for an interview. She’d hugged me so tight, her eyes shining like stars, and promised that one day she’d get me the house of my dreams. We did eventually move into a new place—a three-bedroom condo in a great neighborhood. The down payment was $200,000. I put in my entire life savings, $150,000 earned over three years of grinding. Her family scraped together the other $50,000. Both our names were on the deed. This is our home, she’d said. But that home was now the marital home she shared with another man. I remembered paying for her sister’s college tuition and living expenses. Her dad would always praise me on the phone, saying their family was blessed to have a son-in-law like me. Now, those words felt like a series of sharp slaps across my face. I wasn’t their son-in-law. I was a tool, a workhorse dutifully pumping money into their family. A convenient partner. A fool who was bankrolling their family’s financial security. A gaping hole opened in my chest, and a cold wind howled through it. I took a deep breath and called my best friend, Zack. He picked up on the first ring. “Nate, my man! The financial wizard finally decides to rejoin the living! I was starting to think some island beauty had kidnapped you.” My voice was calm, so calm it felt alien. “Zack… Ava got married.” The other end of the line went dead silent. For a full thirty seconds, there was nothing. Then Zack’s roar nearly shattered my eardrum. “She what? Who the hell did that snake marry? What about you? What the hell happened?” “The groom wasn’t me.” I gave him the short version, from finding the certificate to her text demanding surgery money. Zack exploded, a torrent of curses that would make a sailor blush. “That monster! That goddamn leech! She sucks you dry for five years, and now she wants you to pay her mom’s medical bills? The absolute nerve!” “Nathan, I’m serious, you get on the next flight back here. I’ll get some guys, and we’ll go down to that hospital and unplug her mom’s damn oxygen!” His fiery rant actually helped. The suffocating weight on my chest seemed to lift a little. “Easy, man,” I said, my own voice steady. “I’m not going to let this go.” “So what’s the plan? Don’t you dare go soft on me. Any kindness to a person like that is just cruelty to yourself.” I watched the setting sun paint the sea gold, and my gaze turned to ice. “Don’t worry. I’m not a fool.” “Five years isn’t something you can just erase with a few words.” After hanging up, I went back to my hotel room and took out my laptop. I opened an encrypted Excel file. The title read: “Shared Living Expenses.” It was a professional habit, a meticulous record of every major expenditure. Every single dollar I had spent on Ava and her family over five years was logged here, clear as day. The mortgage payments, of which I paid two-thirds. Her sister’s tuition, $15,000 a year. The $20,000 I gave them to renovate their parents’ house. Gifts and cash for holidays and birthdays, totaling over $30,000 in five years. And then there were the countless daily expenses, a dense, endless list that filled the entire screen. I calmly typed a final line at the bottom of the spreadsheet. “Grand Total: $285,750.00.” The number burned my eyes, sharp and painful. So that was what my love was worth. No. It was worthless. I closed the laptop and walked out onto the balcony. The sea breeze whipped through my hair. It was time. Time for a final, ruthless accounting of a love that was now dead. Ava’s text-bombing stopped after I blocked her. I figured she assumed I was just throwing a tantrum and that, once I cooled down, I’d come crawling back like always, ready to clean up her mess. She was so used to me giving, she saw it not as a gift, but as her due. She had miscalculated badly. The next morning, just after a refreshing dive, a call came through from an unknown number. The area code was from my city. I answered but said nothing. A familiar, sharp voice, laced with a pathetic whimper, came through the line. “Nate, son, it’s me.” It was Ava’s father. His voice sounded weary and wronged, as if he were the most injured party in the world. “What’s wrong with you, boy? We couldn’t reach you. Didn’t you know Ava’s mother is sick? How can you be so heartless?” He launched straight into accusations, not even bothering to ask why I hadn’t answered. He’d already found me guilty. I could picture him perfectly, putting on his best “I’m so disappointed in you” face, ready to pass moral judgment. I’d heard it a thousand times over the last five years. “Nate, Ava has a demanding job, you need to be more supportive.” “Nate, the family is counting on you.” “Nate, our Ava is so lucky to have found you.” It all sounded like a sick joke now. I didn’t get angry. I just held the phone, listening to his award-worthy performance. “Did you and Ava have a fight? There’s nothing a young couple can’t talk through. What’s this nonsense about running away from home? Do you have any idea how worried she is?” “Her mother is lying in a hospital waiting for money for an operation, and you’re off on vacation.” “You get yourself back here right now and pay that bill. Whatever the problem is, I’ll sort it out for you.” Every word was a poison-tipped dart, aimed at a place in my heart that used to be soft. Now, it was plated in steel. I waited until he had vented, until he had run out of steam, before I spoke. My voice was soft, but every word was crystal clear. “Sir, are you aware that Ava is married?” His tirade stopped cold, as if he’d been choked. I could hear his sharp intake of breath, followed by a dead, ringing silence. I didn’t give him time to recover. I continued, my pace steady and deliberate. “And her husband isn’t me.” That sentence was a bomb, and it detonated on the other end of the line. After a long moment, her father found his voice. It was dry and shrill. “What… What nonsense are you spouting? Which little tramp has been whispering lies in your ear?” He didn’t believe it. Or rather, he refused to. His first instinct wasn’t to question his daughter, but to attack me, the messenger. Pathetic. “You can ask your perfect daughter if I’m lying.” “I saw the marriage certificate with my own eyes. The guy in the photo is a lot better looking than me, too.” “Right now, your concern shouldn’t be whether an outsider like me is coming back to pay her bills.” “It should be whether your brand-new son-in-law is willing to foot the bill for his new family.” I finished and, without giving him another chance to speak, hung up. The dark screen reflected my emotionless face. I could only imagine his shock and rage. He would call Ava immediately. A storm was about to break within their family. And all I had to do was sit here, enjoy the sea breeze, and watch the show. Ava, this is just the beginning. You owe me. And I’m going to collect every single cent, with interest. My dignity and my money. I’m taking it all back. A friend request from a “Marcus Thorne” popped up on my social media the next afternoon. The profile picture was a guy in a flashy suit at what looked like a black-tie gala. I accepted. A message came through instantly. “Nathan? My name is Marcus Thorne.” Polite. Formal. As if we were strangers. I didn’t reply, just watched the screen. My silence didn’t seem to bother him. A second message appeared. “I know it’s presumptuous of me to contact you, but I wanted to apologize for the situation with Ava.” Apologize? That was a new one. Did he think stealing someone’s fiancée could be smoothed over with a two-word apology? “Ava told me everything. She said she tried to break up with you for a while, but you wouldn’t accept it. I understand. Five years is a long time, and it’s natural to have trouble letting go.” His wording was clever. In just a few sentences, he’d painted a picture where he was blameless. Ava had tried to end it. I was the clingy ex. And he, Marcus Thorne, was the innocent party caught in the middle. What a piece of work. I still didn’t reply, just tapped my finger on the back of my phone, enjoying his sad little one-man show. When I remained silent, Marcus finally got to the point. His tone shifted from fake sympathy to smug superiority. “To be honest, my parents weren’t thrilled about me and Ava at first. You know, our family’s situation… They felt she wasn’t from the right background.” “But Ava really loves me. She stood up to all that pressure for my sake. She told me she’s never loved anyone the way she loves me.” “She even gave me her debit card to manage for her. And the renovations on our new condo? All done exactly to my taste.” He sent a picture. It was the “home” we had planned together. The sofa I had picked out, the design blueprints I’d stayed up all night drawing, the decor I had slowly accumulated. Now, in the center of the living room in the photo, hung a massive wedding portrait of him and Ava. She was nestled in his arms, her smile radiant and sickeningly sweet. It was a declaration of ownership. A brutal, slow-twisting knife for the ex-boyfriend. An invisible hand squeezed my heart, a suffocating ache. But I showed nothing. I just looked at the photo and saved it to my phone. Marcus’s performance wasn’t over. “Nathan, I know you’re a smart guy. Ava chose me. She chose the future my family can give her. Let the past be the past.” “Dragging this out will only make things more awkward for everyone, especially you.” There it was. The final blow. Everything before this was just a warm-up. He was telling me to back off gracefully. “Oh, by the way, I heard Ava’s mom is sick? Ava’s been really worried about it.” “If you’re willing to give her the money you two saved together to help with the medical bills, I’ll consider it your severance package.” “After all, you were with her for five years. We can’t let you walk away with nothing, can we?” Severance package? Using my money as my own severance package? I actually laughed out loud. Was this guy for real? Was he that naive, or just that stupid? He must have thought I was the same pushover who did whatever Ava wanted. That he could buy me off with a pittance of my own money. I didn’t read any further. I took a long screenshot of the entire chat history. Then, I sent him my first and last reply. “Screenshotted.” After sending that one word, I blocked and deleted him. I had no interest in a war of words. It was pointless. The best way to deal with a smug idiot like him was to let him fall headfirst into the pit he’d dug for himself. And these screenshots were the first shovel of dirt I was going to throw on his grave.

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I once believed the five years Victor gave me were a testament to true love. He laid the best of the world at my feet. It wasn’t until I was holding the positive pregnancy test, bursting with joy and ready to surprise him, that I stumbled upon the truth. Everything he had done, every grand gesture, was a calculated move to help his sister steal the man I truly loved. When I confronted him, Victor offered me two choices, as if tossing scraps to a beggar: take ten million dollars and disappear forever, or pretend nothing had happened and continue to bask in the warmth of his “love.” Everyone thought I would choose the latter. After all, I had loved him so deeply. But without a moment’s hesitation, I chose the money. That’s when Victor truly panicked. He grabbed my hand, his voice cracking as he pleaded, “Zoe, why can’t you just love me one more time?” I pulled my hand away and told him, my voice calm and steady, “Victor, I don’t want you anymore. This time, I’m choosing to love myself.” 1 For thirty consecutive days, Victor had sent me extravagant, one-of-a-kind gifts. Today, he burst through the door covered in blood, cradling a single, delicate flower in his hands. I recognized it. It was the same type of flower that had been the only splash of color in our bleak world that winter we lived under a bridge. “Zoe, the flower, it bloomed again! I brought it back for you!” His face was alight with a desperate hope, as if this single blossom could erase all the darkness between us. I watched him, my expression a mask of ice. The light in his eyes slowly died. Without a word, he forced a smile, found a vase, and placed the flower on the windowsill where I often sat. I wanted to tell him that his smile was more painful to look at than any tears. Two of his bodyguards rushed in after him, their faces etched with anxiety. “Mr. Augustine, you’re injured! You need to go to the hospital, now!” A drop of blood trickled from his forehead and landed on a pristine white petal. “Zoe, I’ll wipe it off,” he said, his voice frantic. His hands were smeared with blood. I remembered that winter, how he had tried to pick one of those flowers for me then, too. He’d scratched his hands and twisted his ankle in the process. I had thought those were scars of our love. Now I knew they were just part of the act, another scene in the play designed to win my devotion. My gaze was cold. The crimson on the white petal was jarring. “Don’t bother,” I said. “Once it’s stained, it’s stained.” I turned to my housekeeper. “Mrs. Gable, throw it out.” Victor’s hand froze mid-air. His face went white as he watched Mrs. Gable take the vase and toss the flower out the window. He wanted to stop her, but he was powerless. He turned back to me, that painful smile returning. “Zoe, I’ll… I’ll come back tomorrow?” It was a placating question, an attempt to pretend this horror wasn’t happening, just as he had always done after hurting me. The once-dashing tycoon, now covered in mud and blood, looked pathetic. I sighed, the words spilling out before I could stop them. “Victor, don’t come back. I never want to see you again.” He stumbled, as if every ounce of strength had been drained from his body. But his guards caught him, and he managed to straighten up, that awful smile still plastered on his face. “You must be tired, Zoe. Get some rest.” Then, as if fearing another rejection, he practically fled. Mrs. Gable looked from his retreating back to me, then went outside and retrieved the flower, placing it back on the windowsill. “I don’t know what happened between you two,” she said, her tone reproachful, “but I can see that Mr. Augustine is truly sorry. He really loves you. Can’t you find it in your heart to forgive him?” I looked at her, my smile full of a weary sadness. “But, Mrs. Gable,” I whispered, “I don’t have the chance to forgive him anymore.” That very morning, I had lost my sense of taste completely. 2 Five years ago, two men stood before me, and I chose Victor. We were together for five years. At our lowest, we lived under a bridge, scavenged for food, and slept under the open sky. I was with him through poverty and despair, all the way to his triumphant return, when he reclaimed his family’s empire. For those five years, he would have given me the stars from the sky and the moon from the water. He made his devotion to me a public spectacle, a love so grand it overshadowed even the affection he had for his precious sister, Amelia. I believed it was real. Until… The day I found out I was pregnant. I rushed to find him, the test results clutched in my hand, ready to share the joyful surprise. But I found him with Amelia wrapped in his arms. “Victor,” she was saying, “Noah finally proposed! Thank you. If you hadn’t sacrificed yourself to win over Zoe, I might have waited forever for this day!” Victor stroked her hair, his smile gentle. “As long as you’re happy, my sacrifice was worth it.” A lightning bolt struck, and all the strength drained out of me. The pregnancy test slipped from my fingers, but I felt nothing. [Host, you have failed.] Years ago, I had gone against the System’s warnings and changed my mission target to him. The System had been clear: [He is not your destined one. Failure to complete the mission will result in your annihilation.] I had traversed many worlds, completed many missions. This was the first time I had ever let personal feelings interfere. “I want to make a choice for myself, just once,” I had told the System. I lost. I accept that. But… I laid a hand on my flat stomach. A new life was growing there, a life I had yearned for. “Can’t you…” [No! You know the rules!] I laughed, covering my eyes as hot tears streamed through my fingers. 3 In the private room, everyone was celebrating Amelia’s engagement and Victor’s “liberation.” “Vic, once Amelia marries into the Sterling family, Zoe will be useless. What are you going to do with her?” “Hey, how about you give her to me? I’m not ambitious. I just want a taste of the woman who could captivate Noah Sterling and keep you entertained for five years…” “Get lost!” Laughter filled the room. My tears had run dry. I looked at the people inside and pushed the door open. The room fell silent. When they saw it was me, strange, knowing smiles spread across their faces. I’d seen those smiles before, but only now did I understand their true meaning. It was the look of the wealthy elite observing a plaything they had tired of. Victor’s hand, holding a glass of wine, paused. He looked at me, his eyes devoid of emotion. “You heard?” “Yes.” “How much?” “Everything.” A brief, tense silence. Everyone looked at Victor, waiting to see how he would dispose of his “plaything.” He set his glass down, his voice cold and unfamiliar. “Two choices. One, take ten million dollars and disappear. Never show your face in front of Noah Sterling again. We go our separate ways.” “Or two…” He paused, walking over to me. He gently stroked my hair, the coldness in his eyes replaced by a deep, seductive affection. “You can choose to stay with me. We’ll pretend this never happened. I’ll continue to be good to you.” The same old tenderness, as if nothing had changed. Amelia couldn’t help but let out a sneer. “Zoe, you really are pathetic.” Everyone, including Victor, probably thought I would choose the second option. After all, I had loved him so much. I had stayed with him when he had nothing, living under a bridge for six months, surviving on instant noodles for three, ruining my health to the point that getting pregnant was a miracle. I looked at the man I had loved with all my heart for five years and managed a faint smile. I took a step back, out of the warmth of his hand, away from the embrace I had once craved. “I choose option one.” 4 The answer stunned everyone. Victor’s face changed, his hand freezing in mid-air before slowly clenching into a fist. By the time he tucked it into his pocket, his expression was once again cool and detached. I suppose it didn’t really matter to him. One plaything gone, another could be found. He was a prince, after all, his pride untouchable. “Since it’s your choice, I respect it.” I walked out of that room like a zombie. … Back at the villa, I began to put my affairs in order. That evening, Victor arrived with his friends to move his things out. “This villa was bought for you,” he said, his voice flat. “It’s yours.” I didn’t look up, just grunted in acknowledgment. He stood there for a long moment, waiting for a reaction. When he got none, he stormed upstairs, the sounds of him packing echoing through the house like angry thunder. I ignored it. I was busy writing, trying to jot everything down before my memory failed me completely. Mrs. Gable had taken care of this house for years. She was getting older and had arthritis. I would leave most of the cash to her, hoping she could live out her remaining years in comfort. My neighbor, a woman starting her own business, needed designer clothes and bags to make a good impression. She had borrowed from me before, always returning them with a small gift, her face flushed with a mixture of gratitude and embarrassment. I understood her struggle. I had been there, too. Victor had bought me countless designer items over the years, most of which I’d never even used. They would all go to her. The jewelry, I decided, would be donated to charity. I doubted Victor would object. My biggest worry was Pip. He was a stray dog we’d adopted during our time under the bridge. A scruffy mutt of indeterminate heritage, with a perpetually messy coat, a bad temper, and a comical underbite. If I was gone, what would happen to him? Who would tolerate his moods, who would love him despite his scruffy appearance? Pip and Victor had been close. I considered leaving him with Victor, but Amelia despised him. She only liked purebred show dogs and would openly kick Pip away if he got too close, even in front of me. If I were gone, all it would take was a word from her, and Victor would probably abandon him. Pip was old. How long would he survive on the streets? I stroked the fur of the dog curled at my feet. “Maybe you should come with me, Pip? At least you wouldn’t have to suffer anymore…” For a moment, I understood the mothers in the news who took their own lives and their children’s with them. I quickly pushed the horrifying thought away. I would ask my friends at the dog park. Surely one of them would take him. Lastly, I signed an organ donation form. In the end, I would leave nothing of myself behind in this world.

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1 That evening, a message popped up from the kid my mother was sponsoring. He sent a sheepish text explaining that he’d changed our Wi-Fi password when he came over to drop something off for Evelyn. He said he was just bored. He followed it up with a string of letters: CluelessOldFossil. I remembered how the Wi-Fi had suddenly cut out earlier that day, flashing a “wrong password” error. I’d asked Evelyn about it, but she just said it was probably a glitch. She was buried in her work, so I let it go. I didn’t reply to his text. That night, I had dinner with Evelyn, just like always. The next day, I changed the password again. At the morning meeting, I made a point of looking right at the kid. “By the way, the new Wi-Fi password is ‘HomeWrecker.’ Make sure you type it in right next time.” … Evelyn held it together for the entire day. The moment we got home, she exploded. “What the hell was that at the meeting this morning? Now everyone at the office thinks something is going on between me and Liam. Are you happy now?” “So you admit he was in our house while I was gone,” I said, my eyes fixed on the financial news flickering across the TV. I didn’t have to look at her to picture the storm brewing on her face. A second later, she stormed over and snapped the TV off. “Don’t forget, you’re the one who got him the job. He’s an employee, and he was here to deliver work files. What’s the big deal?” she shot back. “And what about that time on the bus? You humiliated him in public. Did you even once think about how that made me feel?” That time. I’d seen it with my own eyes: the cool, ever-composed Evelyn, squeezing onto a crowded city bus right alongside Liam. The old me would never have been able to imagine such a scene. For our anniversary last year, I’d planned a sunset bike ride. It was supposed to be romantic. Instead, she trailed me in her sports car, practically idling, watching me pedal by myself like an idiot. Finally, she’d just rolled down the window and said, “God, could you be any more cliché?” The memory soured in my mouth, and I fought to keep the rage out of my voice. “How long has it been going on between you two?” Silence stretched between us. She tilted her head back and let out a long, weary sigh. “I told you, it’s just work. Do you have to turn everything into a fight?” She paused, a cruel smirk twisting her lips. “You’re becoming more and more like your father. Always looking for trouble where there isn’t any.” My blood ran cold. Eight years ago, my mother began sponsoring Liam and his mom. My father became convinced they were having an affair. The suspicion drove him mad. He slit his wrists in the bathtub. The water turned a deep, sickening crimson, spilling over the edge to lick at my feet. It felt scalding, and my whole body shook. Evelyn rushed over when she got the call. She wrestled the blade from my hand as I tried to follow him, her arm taking the cut meant for me. She just held me, repeating over and over, “It’s okay, it’s okay…” It’s the nightmare that has haunted me my entire life. And now, she was using it to shut me up. By the time I surfaced from the memory, Evelyn was already in the bathroom. Her phone, left on the table, was open to Liam’s social media feed. She’d just liked his latest post. [Did a good deed with the boss today! She was so scared of needles she buried her face in my chest! Guess I’m the only one who’s seen her this vulnerable] The screen was a blur of flower and heart emojis, each one a weight crushing the air from my lungs. Evelyn has a severe phobia of blood. I know this better than anyone. When I was in that car accident, bleeding out, she was a perfect match. But she just stood there, watching me writhe in agony, sweat pouring down my face. She wouldn’t give a single drop. By the time the hospital found a compatible donor, I was already in the ICU. The doctor told me a few more minutes and I would have been gone. The comments section was a party. [Dude, details on the “buried her face” part?] [Her own husband almost died and she wouldn’t give him a drop of blood. How’d you manage this?] [Liam, you’re a legend!] Liam’s replies were flirty and vague, but I couldn’t really see them through the haze in my eyes. The only thing in focus was Evelyn’s thumbs-up. Her “like.” I tilted my head back, wiped the moisture from my eyes, and dialed my lawyer. “I need you to draw up divorce papers.” At 3 a.m., Evelyn shook me awake. “I just learned how to make dumplings. Get up and have some.” She dragged me into the kitchen. Flour dusted every surface, and bits of filling were scattered like confetti. It was my father’s recipe, the one he always used to recite from memory. She’d never stepped foot in the kitchen before. She used to complain about the smell of cooking oil on my clothes. Now, here she was, her face smudged with flour, her hands clumsily but intently folding the dough. The old me would have snapped a nine-photo collage for social media: [My wife made me dumplings by hand. I’m the luckiest man alive.] But now, I just fought back a yawn. “Have you ever cooked for him?” Her hands stilled. She shot me a look that screamed, Here we go again. “I made you food. I said nice things. What more do you want from me?” The next second, the bag of flour hit the floor with a soft thud. The dam inside me broke. “You let him come and go from our house as he pleases, you go with him to donate blood, everyone in the company is whispering about you two—” “Enough!” Her voice shot up, sharp and cracking. “You are my husband, Ryan, not some low-life picking fights in an alley. Look at yourself! Look at how crazy you’ve become!” She wasn’t done. “Liam comes from nothing, but he works hard and everyone at the company loves him. But you? The employees can’t stand you. Maybe you should take a look in the mirror and ask yourself why!” As she spoke, she was already typing on her phone. A notification popped up in the company-wide group chat. An official announcement firing me from my position. It took me five years to climb from an entry-level position to director. It took her one second to erase it all. “There. Are you satisfied?” she spat, yanking off her apron. “Now you won’t have to see any of this so-called ‘gossip’ from your employees anymore!” She stormed out of the house, leaving her phone on the counter. Some dark impulse made me pick it up. I opened her chat with Liam. Liam: [Did the trick I taught you work? Even the most stubborn old fossil can be tamed, right? ;)] Evelyn: [Haha, not so sure it’ll work on Ryan.] So, the dumplings were his idea. And she agreed with him. I was the stubborn, old fossil. Evelyn didn’t come home that night. Instead, she appeared in a live photo on Liam’s social media feed. Two shadowy figures, tangled together in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of her CEO office. The sound of a kiss, just for a second, was a knife twisting in my ear. The comments flooded in. [Is the boss getting a new husband?] [Finally! Maybe we can get rid of that old fossil for good. Things will be so much better at work!] She had to have known he was filming. She had to. She wanted me to see it. She wanted me to know that without the title of ‘Evelyn’s husband,’ I was nothing. No one would respect me. I had no right to question her. I would end up just like my father. My hand trembled as I liked the post. I went back to our bedroom, opened a suitcase, and started packing. The framed photo of us on the nightstand went straight into the trash. I was done. I was done with all of it. I sat awake until the early hours of the morning, when the email from my lawyer finally arrived. The divorce papers. I opened the file, signed my name without a moment’s hesitation, and asked him to have a physical copy delivered. I don’t know how long she’d been standing there, but suddenly Evelyn was behind me, a confused frown on her face. “Who’s getting a divorce?” “A friend,” I said, my voice flat, my expression unmoving. The tension instantly drained from her shoulders. She let out a knowing little laugh. “I figured,” she said. “Your father is dead. Your mother is drowning in debt from a lifetime of charity, needing her son’s wife just to pay her hospital bills. What right could you possibly have to ask for a divorce? I was worried for nothing.” Every word was a razor blade slicing me open. I said nothing. Her tone softened slightly. “As long as you play the part of my husband and stop with these baseless suspicions, I can give you anything you want.” She turned to leave, tossing one last comment over her shoulder. “The company’s promotion ceremony is tomorrow. It wouldn’t look right if you didn’t go.” For a split second, my heart fluttered. A foolish, desperate part of me fantasized that she was going to acknowledge my five years of hard work. I stayed up all night preparing a speech. I tried on the custom-tailored suit she had bought for me. The next day, the banquet hall was buzzing, glasses clinking. I stepped inside, and the condescending stares that met me wiped the practiced smile right off my face. Up on the brightly lit stage, Evelyn personally announced Liam as the new director. My replacement. “Oh, good, you’re here,” she said, her eyes finding me in the crowd. Her tone was casual, breezy. “If Liam has any questions moving forward, you can help him out. You’ll have plenty of free time at home, might as well do something useful.” A wave of snickers rippled through the room. The whispers found their way to my ears. “Looks like we were right. There’s no place for him at the company anymore.” “Not just the company. I bet there won’t be a place for him in the family for much longer either.” “He used to be Mr. Walker, Director Walker, throwing his weight around. Now look at him. He’s nothing! Ha!” … Evelyn heard them. She had to have heard them. She didn’t say a word to defend me. She stepped down from the stage and leaned in close, her voice a low murmur. “This promotion was Liam’s birthday wish. I had to make it happen.” “Besides,” she added, “you won’t have to work so hard anymore. Isn’t it better to just stay home?” She asked it so matter-of-factly, so certain I would just nod and agree. “But I…” But I poured my soul into this for five years to get to this point. She didn’t have the patience to hear me finish. She was already turning away, taking Liam by the arm to introduce him to industry executives, to all the important players. Just like she used to do with me. But that was then. She handed my project proposals to Liam, coaching him line by line on how to handle the executives’ toughest questions. The whole thing was a grotesque farce. I couldn’t stand it for another second. As I turned to leave, Liam’s voice stopped me. “Ryan,” he said, grabbing my arm, his grip deliberately tight. “You’re not mad at me for taking your job, are you? Please don’t hate me.” The innocent, grateful boy my mother had sponsored was gone. In his place was this… thing, his eyes glinting with provocation. I looked down, a bitter laugh escaping my lips, then met his gaze. “My mother sponsored you, paid for your college, supported you and your mom. It wasn’t so you could steal my wife.” The smile on Liam’s face froze for an instant, then returned, wider and uglier. “Well, may the best man win.” With that, he let out a sharp cry and stumbled backward, collapsing right into Evelyn’s arms. “Evelyn,” he whimpered, “seeing Ryan… it’s bringing back all the nightmares from college.” His voice broke. “His mother… she took advantage of me! She used the sponsorship as an excuse to…” The room erupted. Every head turned, every pair of eyes stared at me, filled with shock and disgust. My nerves screamed. My voice rose an octave. “What are you talking about? My mom would never do something like that!” Liam just clung to Evelyn, trembling like a frightened child. “I was always too scared to say anything,” he sobbed. “But now that Ryan’s not at the company anymore… I finally feel safe enough to tell the truth…” Evelyn’s head snapped up. Her eyes were chips of ice. I stared at her, my brow furrowed in disbelief. “You believe him?” Her gaze was venomous. “Your mother,” she said, each word a hammer blow, “knows exactly what she did.” And just like that, it was fact. In the eyes of everyone there, my mother was a predator. And I was her son. “Using charity as a cover for that? What kind of monster does that?” “And him? The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” “No wonder he was always going after Liam. He was afraid the truth would come out!” “To think someone like that was working right beside us. It’s terrifying.” The faces around me twisted into ugly masks. The accusations rained down. I shook my head, helpless. “No, you’re wrong. My mom would never…” I lunged for Liam, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him. “Tell them! Tell them the truth! My mom gave up everything for you! She went without new clothes, she worked while she was sick, just so you could go to college!” A hand shoved me back. It was Evelyn, her face a cold, hard mask of fury. “How dare you threaten him to change his story?” she snarled. “Liam is a good, honest person. Why would he ever lie about something that shames him like this? I think you’re just angry you got caught!” Right there, in front of everyone, she pulled out her phone and called the hospital. “Stop all payments for my husband’s mother’s care, effective immediately. A person like that doesn’t deserve to live.” My world collapsed. Wine glasses and pieces of cake flew through the air, pelting me. The words “predator’s son” echoed from all sides. “His mother doesn’t deserve to live, and neither does he!” “Just go die already!” Fists and palms rained down on my face. They spat on me. Someone slashed my cheek with a broken piece of a glass. Through the chaos, Evelyn started to move toward me, but Liam let out a sudden cry of pain. “My head… it hurts so much! I think… I think I see him coming for me…” Without a second thought, Evelyn had someone hoist Liam up and rush him to the hospital. The shouts and curses around me faded into a dull roar. All I could see was my mother’s face, her expression of anguish when she heard the lie. Amid the kicks and punches, I fumbled for my phone, desperately dialing the hospital. The voice on the other end was calm, clinical. “Mr. Walker, I’m very sorry for your loss. Your mother received several abusive phone calls a short while ago. Her heart gave out. She passed away moments ago.” The fight drained out of me. I went limp, letting the blows fall where they may. The voice on the phone said to “take care,” but I couldn’t shed a single tear. I don’t know how much time passed. The crowd eventually dispersed. My phone rang. It was Evelyn. “I’ve sent some money to your mother’s account. She won’t die just yet. As for the truth, we’ll let the police handle it.” Her voice was tired. “I think you’ve caused enough trouble. Stay home and think about what you’ve done. I won’t be back for three days.” “Okay,” I whispered into the phone. After hanging up, I deleted her number. I deleted everything. I went home, picked up my packed suitcase, and placed the signed divorce papers on the coffee table. I said goodbye to the home I had lived in for nearly ten years. One last stop. I picked up my mother’s ashes from the hospital and boarded a flight that night. Evelyn, this is goodbye. For good. Three days later, Evelyn came home carrying groceries and a bouquet of fresh flowers. The moment she pushed open the door, she froze.

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I’m eight months pregnant as I push open the bedroom door. My husband Francis is rolling around on our marital bed with another woman. The floor is littered with torn clothes and used condoms. I rush forward like a madwoman, trying to pull them apart. Francis backhands me with a slap, sending me sprawling. He slowly puts on his bathrobe and looks down at me condescendingly. “Chloe, you’re just a stand-in I bought with money. You really think you’re Mrs. Carter? I’ll fuck whoever I want. Make another scene and get the hell out.” The woman on the bed walks over with a coquettish laugh and kicks me in the stomach. “Mr. Carter says the bastard in your belly doesn’t deserve the Carter name.” The pain makes cold sweat pour down my face. I tumble down the stairs and stop breathing in a pool of blood. When I open my eyes again, I’m back at the moment before pushing open the master bedroom door. Hearing the moans coming from inside, I don’t open the door. I turn and go downstairs, call a welder, and have the master bedroom door welded shut. Then I dial the police station. “I’m reporting illegal prostitution at my house. The scene is extremely perverted.”

The moans and sounds of bodies colliding continue endlessly inside the door. I stand in the hallway, my stomach churning. The excruciating pain from my previous life seems to linger in my abdomen. I touch my protruding belly and take a deep breath before turning downstairs. Half an hour later, two welders carrying equipment stand outside the master bedroom door. “You really want it welded shut?” The welder looks at this expensive solid wood double door with some hesitation. I hand over two stacks of cash. “Weld even the door cracks shut. Add two layers of steel bars.” “You got it!” The welding machine emits a piercing roar. Dazzling sparks scatter through the hallway. The pungent smell of burning instantly fills the air. Inside the room, they finally sense something’s wrong. “What’s going on out there?!” Francis’s irritated voice comes through the door. Then comes the sound of the handle being violently twisted. “Chloe! Are you out there making trouble?” “Open this door!” I pull over a chair and sit steadily outside the door. I watch as the welder finishes welding the last steel bar to the door frame. “Francis, don’t you like playing in there?” “Today I’ll let you play to your heart’s content.” My tone is calm, without a hint of emotion. The door shakes violently from being kicked. “Have you lost your mind! You dare lock me in?” “When I get out, I’ll kill you!” The woman next to him also starts screaming. “Mr. Carter, I’m so scared. Is this woman mentally ill?” I let out a cold laugh and take out my phone. “Officer, yes, the address is Villa A in the Seaside Villa District.” “Come quickly. They’re organizing illegal prostitution inside.” Ten minutes later, five fully equipped police officers rush up to the second floor. “Who called the police?” The lead officer looks at the welded door and freezes. “Officer, I made the report.” “This house is my marital home under my name.” “My husband is illegally soliciting prostitutes inside.” The police exchange glances. “Listen up, people inside! This is the police! Open the door immediately!” Inside the room goes instantly quiet. A few seconds later, Francis’s exasperated voice comes through. “Chloe, you dare call the police? Are you tired of living!” The police look at the steel bars on the door and directly call in the fire department. Hydraulic cutters sever the freshly welded steel bars, and the door is forced open. A foul, fishy smell hits them in the face. Francis is naked, clutching a towel in front of him. The woman is even more terrified, curled up in the sheets trembling. “Don’t move! Put on your clothes and stand against the wall!” The police raise their body cameras. Francis’s face turns ashen as he points at my nose and curses. “Chloe, you’ve got nerve! You dare bring people to arrest me?” “What the hell are you! How dare you meddle in my business?” I walk forward and slap him across the face. The crisp sound of the slap echoes through the room. Francis’s head snaps to the side, half his face instantly swelling and turning red. “You dare hit me?” His eyes widen as he raises his hand to strike back. Two officers immediately step forward and pin him to the ground. “Stay still! You dare assault someone in front of police?” Francis is pressed firmly to the ground, his face against a condom on the floor. He gags in disgust. The woman wraps herself in the sheets, crying pitifully. “Officer, I’m his girlfriend. We’re in a normal relationship.” I throw a stack of photos in her face. “Normal relationship? Lester, last month you were detained for illegal prostitution and drug dealing at a nightclub. Should I pull up the records?” Lester’s face turns deathly pale, unable to say a word. The police pick up the photos from the ground, take one look, and pull out handcuffs. “Take them away! Back to the station for investigation!” Francis is handcuffed and struggles desperately. “Chloe! You wait!” “You’re just a cheap stand-in I bought for Austin!” “When I get out, I’ll make sure you leave with nothing! I’ll make the bastard in your belly die without a trace!” I look at his wretched state and smile slightly. “Sure, I’ll wait.” “Enjoy your time, Mr. Carter.”

At the city police station, I sit in the mediation room drinking warm water. The door is suddenly pushed open. Francis’s mother, Aurora, storms in on high heels with an imposing air. Her well-maintained face is full of fury. Seeing me, she pulls out a check from her bag and throws it in my face. “Chloe, haven’t you caused enough trouble?” “One million. Go tell the police right now it was a misunderstanding.” “Francis is the heir to Carter Group. He can’t have a criminal record!” The check floats lightly to the ground. I don’t even glance at it. “Aurora, soliciting prostitutes is illegal.” “The police caught him in the act. How do you expect me to change my statement?” Aurora crosses her arms, her eyes full of contempt. “Stop acting high and mighty. If you didn’t look somewhat like Austin, would Francis have married you?” “You’re just a poor girl from an orphanage. Being able to marry Francis is incredible luck.” “What’s wrong with men having a few lovers? Don’t you have any tolerance?” I stand up and look directly into her eyes. “He brought a call girl to my marital bed and had sex with her in front of my eight-month pregnant belly. This is your Carter family upbringing?” Aurora chokes on her words and becomes furious with embarrassment. “Don’t refuse a toast only to drink a forfeit!” “I’ve investigated you. That grandmother of yours with kidney failure is still lying in the hospital, right?” “Believe it or not, with one word from me, I can have the hospital stop her medication and throw her out on the street to die?” I look at her condescending face and suddenly laugh. I take out my phone and open a video. In the video, my grandmother is lying in a VIP room at a top private hospital with a dedicated caregiver. “I’m very sorry, Aurora.” “Just an hour ago, I transferred my grandmother to another hospital.” “That hospital is foreign-controlled. Your Carter family’s reach doesn’t extend that far.” Aurora’s face stiffens. “Where did you get the money?” I put away my phone. “That’s none of your concern.” “I’m officially notifying you now that I want a divorce from Francis.” “Have him prepare the property division agreement.” Aurora acts like she’s heard the biggest joke and bursts out laughing. “Divorce? Divide property?” “Chloe, are you still asleep?” “Francis did a prenuptial property notarization. Even if you divorce, you’ll leave with nothing!” “The child in your belly won’t be recognized by the Carter family either!” I nod. “Perfect if you don’t recognize it. I also find your Carter family genes dirty. As for property, I’ll see you in court.” I walk past her and head straight out. Passing the detention room, I see Francis behind the iron bars. He’s wearing a prison uniform, his hair disheveled, no longer showing any trace of the dignity of a wealthy young master. Seeing me, he rushes to the iron railing with a twisted expression. “Chloe! Get my mom to bail me out!” “The food in here isn’t fit for humans!” “If you just get me out, I’ll forgive your unreasonable behavior!” Unreasonable behavior? I stop and look at him coldly. “Francis, soliciting prostitutes carries a detention of ten to fifteen days.” “Enjoy your stay.” “Oh, and remember to exercise more so Lester on the outside won’t think you’re weak.” Francis curses furiously. “Bitch! You dare curse me!” “When Austin comes back, I’m divorcing you immediately!” “You won’t get a single penny!” I ignore his ranting and leave the police station. The sunlight outside is somewhat blinding. I touch the child in my belly. Baby, Mommy will take you away from this cesspool.

Back at the so-called marital villa. The air still seems to carry that disgusting smell. I immediately call a moving company. “Send ten trucks. Bring large garbage bags.” Two hours later, dozens of workers flood into the villa. “Boss, what should we move?” I point at everything in the master bedroom. “The bed, mattress, carpet, men’s clothes in the closet—throw it all away.” “Also all of Francis’s personal items in the study. Don’t leave a single thing.” The workers move efficiently. The custom-made bed worth a million is dismantled into eight pieces. Francis’s expensive custom suits and limited edition sneakers are all stuffed into black garbage bags. They fill five large trucks. “Boss, where should we take these things?” I give the foreman an address. “The scrap recycling station in the west part of the city.” “Tell the manager these things are free. He can dispose of them however he wants.” Looking at the empty room, I feel extremely satisfied. Next, I contact a real estate agent. “This villa—list it at twenty percent below market value for urgent sale.” “Full payment required. The faster, the better.” Although Francis bought this house, he added my name after we registered our marriage. According to the law, I have half the disposal rights. After handling all this, I move into the large flat I bought long ago. I purchased this with my premarital savings and money I earned over the past two years. Francis always thought I was just a housewife depending on him. He had no idea I’m a top-tier financial analyst. Over these three years, using an anonymous identity in the stock market, I earned more money than Carter Group’s annual net profit. Three days later, the agent calls. The house sold. Twenty million in full payment, already transferred to my overseas account. Just then, the doorbell rings. I glance at the monitor. It’s Lester. She’s wearing a revealing camisole dress and sunglasses, standing arrogantly outside the door. I open the door. Lester pushes her way in and looks around. “Well, Chloe, your new place is nice.” “How much hush money did you take from Mr. Carter to afford this kind of house?” I look at her coldly. “What are you doing here?” Lester takes off her sunglasses and smugly touches her flat stomach. “I’m here to inform you that I’m pregnant.” “With Mr. Carter’s child.” “Aurora already promised me that if I give birth to a boy, she’ll give me fifty million.” “The money-losing girl in your big belly—the Carter family doesn’t care about it at all.” I look at her smug face and find it hilarious. “Is that so? Then you should go to the Carter family for money. Why are you looking for me?” Lester leans close to me and lowers her voice. “Mr. Carter says your pregnant body is out of shape, like a sow.” “He gets disgusted just looking at you.” “Be smart and get lost. Give up the position of Mrs. Carter.” Without hesitation, I slap her across the face. “Smack!” Lester screams and covers her face. “You dare hit me? I’m carrying the Carter family’s child!” I backhand another slap. “I’m hitting you, you shameless bitch.” “You think Francis is something good?” “He can even call his own flesh and blood a bastard. You think he’ll care about that piece of meat in your belly?” Lester becomes frantic and lunges at me with bared teeth and claws. “I’ll fight you!” I sidestep and stick out my foot to trip her. She falls heavily to the ground, groaning in pain. I walk over and step on her back. “By the way, let me remind you.” “Francis has severe oligospermia. I only succeeded with this pregnancy after three IVF attempts.” “Whose bastard is really in your belly—you know in your heart.” Lester’s face changes drastically, her eyes shifting evasively. I take out my phone and play the recording I just made. “I’m here to inform you that I’m pregnant… with Mr. Carter’s child…” Lester panics. “You recorded that? Delete it now!” I kick her away. “Delete it? This is evidence you delivered to my doorstep.” Right in front of her, I send the recording to the Carter family group chat and the Carter Group executive group chat. “Get out.” Lester scrambles away on all fours.

When his detention period ends, Francis is released. He immediately rushes back to the villa, only to find the gate locked. Through the windows, he sees the place is completely empty—even the floors have been pried up. He frantically calls me. “Chloe! What did you do to the house? Where are my things?” I sit on the sofa in my large flat, drinking bird’s nest soup. “Garbage naturally goes to the dump.” “I’ve already sold the house. The money is in my account.” The sound of things being smashed comes from the other end of the phone. “You dare sell my house? That’s robbery!” “Give me the money back immediately! Otherwise I’ll call the police and have you arrested!” I laugh lightly. “Go ahead and report it.” “I have half ownership of the house. My sale was legal.” “You’d better worry about your company’s stock price first.” I hang up. Carter Group’s stock price has hit the daily limit down for three consecutive days due to news about Francis’s prostitution and drug use. Market capitalization has evaporated by nearly ten billion. Half an hour later, Francis finds my large flat and kicks the door. “Chloe! Open up!” I open the door. He charges in like an enraged lion. “What the hell do you want?” “Playing hard to get has limits!” “You think making a big scene will make me look at you more?” I throw the divorce agreement I prepared earlier in his face. “Sign it.” Francis sees the words clearly, his face turning ashen. He tears up the agreement. Paper scraps scatter everywhere. “Divorce? Dream on!” “You haven’t finished your duties as a stand-in. What right do you have to ask for divorce?” “You think after leaving me, you can still live this kind of luxurious life?” Just then, his phone rings. The screen flashes with “Austin.” Francis’s expression instantly becomes incredibly tender. He answers the phone, his voice so gentle it could drip water. “Austin, you’ve landed?” “Okay, I’ll send a car to pick you up right away.” “Don’t be afraid. With me here, no one can bully you.” After hanging up, Francis looks at me, his eyes cold again. “Did you hear? Austin is back.” “Your job as a stand-in is over.” “After the child is born, hand it directly to Austin to raise.” “She’s in poor health and can’t bear children. Consider this child your compensation to her.” I look at his matter-of-fact expression and feel utterly disgusted. “My child—why should I give it to her?” Francis snorts coldly. “Why? Because you’re a waste living off the Carter family!” “You’re just a breeding tool.” “Being able to raise a child for Austin is your honor.” I point at the door. “Get out.” Francis straightens his suit and arrogantly raises his chin. “You’d better behave.” “There’s a charity gala tomorrow night. You must attend with me.” “To prove to the public that rumors of our marital discord are false.” “Otherwise, I have a hundred ways to make your life worse than death.” I watch his departing back. A charity gala? Fine. I’ll prepare a gift you’ll never forget.

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I’ve been married to Alpha Connor for five years, yet he’s never marked me. For five years, he’s had an endless parade of mistresses. When he caught us in bed together yet again, Connor finally showed some reaction. Only this time, it was me lying naked in bed. Soon enough, he regained his composure and even thoughtfully tore open a condom for me. “I told you from the start we’d each do our own thing after marriage. Glad you finally listened.” Then he smiled as he tore open the condom and handed it to the man on top of me: “Be careful not to get her pregnant.” As he left, he even patiently reminded me: “I’ll be right next door. Have fun, and if you need any pointers on technique, feel free to ask anytime.” Watching his carefree retreating figure, I lowered my head. This five-year marriage needed to end. “Luna Clara, should we continue?” The man on the bed looked at me, his eyes seemingly filled with pity. I awkwardly got out of bed and stiffly pulled on my clothes, my heart sour and bitter. I took out a stack of cash and handed it to him. “I don’t want a fourth person knowing about tonight.” When I came out of the room, Connor was waiting in the hallway with his arm around his mistress Yvette, looking at me with a mocking smile. “I thought you’d finally grown a spine, but turns out this is all you’ve got?” I froze and looked up at him. Connor laughed. “Clara, since we agreed not to interfere with each other, even if you actually had sex with someone else, I would never make a scene and cause a commotion like you do. Don’t worry, I’m very generous.” These words made my breath catch. Yes. He was indeed generous. In a situation like earlier, even if it was just an act, no wolf would say something so casually like Connor just did. It was simply because he didn’t care. He didn’t care about me, so nothing I did would stir any waves in his heart. Between us, I was always the one who couldn’t be generous enough. That’s why five years ago, when I first discovered him having sex with someone else, I showed a completely different reaction than his current one. I smashed everything I could, cried hysterically, acted like a madwoman. But Connor showed no excess emotion from beginning to end. He just quietly watched me and sighed: “Clara, if it weren’t for your father being the Alpha of Ironpaw pack, we never would have gotten married.” “We’re just a political alliance between Dubois pack and Ironpaw pack. Why make such a spectacle of yourself?” I felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped on me instantly. My heart went completely cold. Connor would never understand how I felt at that moment, just like he didn’t know I’d had a crush on him since childhood. Because I liked him, even when I met my fated mate at eighteen, I told him I had feelings for someone else and broke the mate bond. He would never know that when I learned he was my arranged marriage partner, my heart soared like it was flying on clouds. Because he said we were just a political alliance, I, his wife in name only, no longer had the right to even question his later scandals. After bringing a mistress home to have sex one time, Connor told me: “I’m not marking you because I don’t want to be bound by the mate bond. That’s also why I broke up with my fated mate. I still want to have sex with many women. Of course, you can also find other men to sleep with. We’re just a political alliance. We can each do our own thing.” Facing one instance after another of catching him in bed with others, I gradually evolved from hysteria to calm, and finally to numb. Like now, though I was still sad, I could finally calmly accept the fact that our marriage was coming to an end. I looked at Connor, gathered my composure, and mimicked his manner, curving my lips into a smile. “Sorry for the poor performance.” Connor froze, looking somewhat confused, unable to read me for the first time. But Yvette, standing beside him, laughed out loud and said coquettishly, “Connor, how can you say that to Luna Clara?” “She went through all that trouble to strip naked and throw herself into another man’s arms just to get your attention, to make you jealous! How can she save face after what you just said?” She pushed Connor toward me and poked his chest. “You should comfort her! Look, Luna Clara is about to cry.” Hearing this, Connor glanced at me and smiled carelessly. “It’s just a political alliance. I have no obligation to comfort anyone.” “Deal with your own emotions. If you don’t want to embarrass yourself again, don’t do such laughable stupid things in the future.” He pulled Yvette’s slender waist back into his embrace. “I promised to spend tonight with you. How could I break my word?” After speaking, he didn’t bother looking at me again and turned to enter the room. The moment the door closed, Yvette glanced back at me, her eyes filled with undisguised triumph and provocation. Soon, intimate sounds began. It seemed like they wouldn’t stop until her voice was hoarse. They knew I hadn’t left, and I knew they were doing it on purpose. I don’t know how long I stood outside the door until both legs went completely numb before I stumbled home and called my lawyer. “Draft a divorce agreement for me. Get it to me as soon as possible.” Since Connor kept saying it was a political alliance, it shouldn’t matter if I changed alliance partners. After all, which Alpha I married for political reasons was all the same, wasn’t it?

This time Connor disappeared longer than ever before. He was nowhere to be seen for nearly half a month, but Yvette’s social media updates appeared on time every night. Auctions, banquets, various elite social gatherings—even the private island where I had my honeymoon was now graced with her presence. Yvette truly deserved to be Connor’s longest-standing mistress. She always knew exactly how to hurt me. Rather than showing off, this was more like provocation. But unfortunately, she would be disappointed this time. Since I had already decided to let go completely, I wouldn’t waste emotions on Connor anymore. Just as I closed my phone to rest, a message from Yvette popped up. “I’ve prepared a gift for you. Hope you like it.” It was followed by a trending topic link. The moment I clicked it, I felt like someone had stepped on my face. [Dubois Pack’s Luna Clara Cheats During Marriage, Secret Late-Night Meeting with Lover!] Under the explosive headline were dozens of intimate photos from that night, showing my grief-stricken face and red-rimmed eyes. But my restraint and sadness were completely twisted in the netizens’ mouths into filthy, unspeakable words. The comment section was flooded with unbearable insults directed at me. I scrolled through them one by one, shaking with anger. I was clearly the victim in this marriage, yet the real betrayer remained unscathed while I became the slut condemned by everyone. I finally calmed down and tried to get the trending topic removed, but they told me someone had paid a premium to keep this news on the front page for a full day and night. After hanging up, I felt like I’d fallen into an ice cellar. Yvette didn’t have that kind of power. The person backing her up, wanting to destroy my reputation, was Connor. I racked my brains but couldn’t understand why he hated me so much. Five years of marriage, even if it was hollow, the feelings I had for him weren’t fake. My care and concern for him weren’t fake. Even if Connor had no feelings for me, there was no need to disgust me like this. Fortunately, I soon learned his answer. At the evening banquet the next afternoon, Connor and I attended together. Because I hadn’t slept all night, I had a minor incident driving there and arrived a bit late. The banquet hall was very noisy, but I still spotted Connor immediately. He was surrounded by a group of wolves, with a woman leaning against him like she had no bones. Who else but Yvette? I was about to walk over when I heard his conversation with friends. “Connor, I saw the trending topic! I never thought you’d be the one getting cheated on. Clara’s really something!” “That’s what you get for stealing women from me. How’s that karma treating you?” Someone teased: “Come on! You always brag about your experience. Can’t you even see this? Those photos on the trending topic clearly show nothing real happened! Clara was obviously just putting on a show to win him back!” “But Connor, don’t you think you went too far this time? Keeping it at the top of trending and letting people criticize and insult Clara—she’s still a woman. How can she show her face in public after this?” Hearing this, Connor leisurely picked up his wine glass, a mocking smile curving his lips. “How else will she learn her lesson? I want her to never dare find a lover again, even if it’s just an act.” The person said in surprise: “You can have endless mistresses yourself, so why restrict Clara from finding lovers! Don’t tell me that ‘each do our own thing, don’t interfere with each other’ line you always spout only applies to others and not yourself?” Connor frowned and said nothing. “You’re pretty slick. You don’t fulfill your duties as a husband but demand she fulfill her duties as a wife. And because of your ‘don’t interfere with each other’ line, she doesn’t even have the right to be jealous or angry!” “As your buddy, I really envy you. Unlike me—my wife caused a scene at my company last month. I lost all face!” “Hey, how about this—when I get back, I’ll make the same agreement with my wife. Just like you, we’ll each do our own thing and not interfere. What do you think?” This time Connor laughed outright. “Don’t. You absolutely shouldn’t say that. If you do, just wait for your wife to break the mate bond and divorce you.” “My situation is different from yours. After all, Clara likes me.” His tone seemed both proud and teasing, but all the blood in my body instantly turned cold. So he knew I liked him.

Because I liked him, he could trample me without restraint, stepping on my dignity and letting his mistresses trample on it freely. All these years of suffering were simply because he knew I liked him. How ridiculous. Their conversation continued. “My God! Connor, you’re such a bastard!” “But since Clara is devoted to you and you have no intention of divorcing her, why did you arrange for her to lose your baby when she was pregnant?” Hearing this, I instantly froze in place. He was right. I had once been pregnant with Connor’s child. But at three months, there was an accident. On my way home, I was suddenly attacked by a group of Rogues. I was injured. When I barely escaped and got to the hospital, the baby couldn’t be saved. Not only that, but the doctor announced on the spot that my body was damaged and I likely wouldn’t be able to get pregnant again. What a coincidence—the wolf doctor who performed my abortion was Yvette. When I came out of the operating room, Connor showed me something like heartache for the first time. He walked over and hugged me, his tone rarely gentle. “It’s okay. If the baby’s gone, it’s gone. As long as you’re fine.” I naively thought I had touched his heart back then. Now it seemed there was another story behind it. Connor’s friend continued talking: “The doctor said Clara’s situation was indeed dangerous, but with proper care, the baby might have been saved. But you went ahead and secretly sent her into the operating room without telling her, and the abortion left her with health problems.” “I really don’t know what you were thinking. Connor, can you tell me?” Hearing this, Connor’s expression became complicated. Whether annoyed or something else, he lit a cigarette, squinted as he took a drag, and said irritably: “What else could it be? At the time, I hadn’t had enough fun yet. I didn’t want to be a father so early!” “Besides, Clara getting pregnant with my child was just trying to use it to control me. Our packs are just a political alliance. If a child affected the core interests of our Dubois pack, wouldn’t that be counterproductive?” “Damaging her body wasn’t my intention. I’ll compensate her later. And don’t mention this again. If she finds out, she’ll probably make a fuss again.” Hearing this, I couldn’t control my trembling. Overwhelming and desperate emotions nearly swallowed me whole. When I came to my senses, I had already walked in front of Connor. With my appearance, the scene became so quiet only breathing could be heard. In this situation, even Connor couldn’t stay calm. A flash of panic crossed his eyes. He glanced at me somewhat guiltily and coughed lightly. “Since you’re here, come sit.” I didn’t move or speak. The atmosphere became extremely awkward. Seeing me like this, Connor felt embarrassed and frowned. I knew this was a sign he was about to get angry. I used to fear his anger most, but now I just silently took out the divorce agreement I had prepared and placed it in front of him. “Connor, I don’t know when you’ll have had enough fun, but I don’t want to play along anymore. Sign this divorce agreement. After this, you can play however you want. I won’t interfere anymore, and I’ll never try to use a child to affect your Dubois pack’s core interests.” “Let’s end things here.”

Connor stared at the document in front of him, his expression extremely ugly. After a long while, he looked at me with a cold laugh. “Threatening me?” I smiled bitterly. “If that’s what you think, then sure.” He looked at me, dangerously narrowing his eyes, his tone somewhere between threatening and pressuring. “I’ll ask you one last time. You really want to divorce me?” I nodded without hesitation. Seeing this, the watching friends exchanged glances and couldn’t help but try to persuade me, but my attitude showed no sign of yielding. Connor had never lost face like this before. He immediately signed his name on the divorce agreement like it was spite, looked at me coldly, and said through gritted teeth: “Clara, you’ve got guts. Don’t come crying back to me!” I ignored him, took the agreement, and turned to leave. Not long after I walked out, their conversation reached my ears again. This time Connor’s friends were betting on how long it would take before I came back to him and begged. Everyone chimed in, getting more excited. Finally, Connor concluded: “Stop guessing. Three days at most. She’ll definitely come crying back begging me not to divorce.” Hearing this, I curved my lips in mockery. I was afraid he would be disappointed this time. Not only would I not go to him with my head down, I would make him lose all face! I tolerated him before only because I liked him, but now, there was no need to endure anymore. So after getting home, I immediately contacted the media, extracted surveillance footage of Connor messing around with numerous mistresses from our home security system, and posted it online. The most explosive footage was undoubtedly him and Yvette. I copied his approach exactly, letting this news hang on trending for a full day and night. Public opinion completely reversed. This time, they became the targets of everyone’s condemnation. During this time, Connor kept calling, but I hung up every single time without exception. See? The knife only hurts when it cuts your own flesh. They should also experience what it feels like to be condemned by everyone. But what I didn’t expect was that a few days later, the hospital called. “This is bad, Luna Clara. Your mother’s condition suddenly relapsed. She needs surgery immediately!” My mother had been poisoned by wolfsbane years ago. Though the poison was later cured, it left her body damaged. She’d been bedridden for years. Three months ago she had just finished surgery and her health had slightly improved. I never expected something to happen at this critical moment. Even more unfortunately, my father wasn’t around. He had recently gone abroad to handle business matters and couldn’t return anytime soon. When I rushed to the hospital, the doctor explained the situation to me. “Luna Clara, the lesion has begun to spread. This surgery requires extreme precision, but your mother’s previous attending physician went abroad to study half a month ago. It seems only his student, Dr. Yvette, can try. The situation is urgent. You need to decide quickly.” Hearing this, I felt like I’d been hit with a club. But right now, compared to my mother’s life, what was my dignity worth? Before I could find her, Yvette came to find me first. Connor stood beside her. When they saw me, neither looked pleased. After I explained the situation. Yvette said: “Clara, the stunt you pulled online almost cost me my job. Now you want me to help you. Shouldn’t you apologize first?” I said, “What do you want me to do?” Yvette glanced at me and said with undisguised malice: “Unless you kneel down and beg me now, I might consider it.” Hearing this, my eyes widened and I instinctively looked at Connor standing beside her. But Connor said: “When you’re asking someone for help, you should have the right attitude. Whether to save your mother or not is up to you.” With these words, the hope in my heart completely shattered. For my mother’s sake, I could only throw my dignity on the ground for others to trample. The moment my knees hit the ground, I heard Yvette’s undisguised mocking laughter. A moment later, my mother was sent into the operating room. After an agonizing wait, the light finally went out. Yvette walked out with two nurses. I rushed forward to ask about the situation, but she shook her head and said: “I did my best, but your mother’s fate was sealed. There was nothing I could do.” A nearby nurse whispered: “That’s not true. If you hadn’t… if you hadn’t been distracted during the surgery, the patient wouldn’t have…” She couldn’t continue. Hearing this, my mind went completely blank. When I came to my senses, my hand had already landed heavily across Yvette’s face. “You did it on purpose! Yvette! You did it on purpose, didn’t you!” Seeing me like this, a flash of heartache crossed Connor’s eyes. He reached out his hand toward me, about to say something, but when Yvette started crying, he changed his tune. “Clara, no surgery is one hundred percent successful. Yvette is a doctor. Why make her sound so terrible?” “Your mother had been ill for a long time. This might be a relief for her. You should thank Yvette, not be so aggressive like this.” In this moment, my heart completely died. Over the next half month, I handled my mother’s funeral and completely bid farewell to this disgusting place. The moment I boarded the plane. An explosive news story appeared on the homepage. [Alliance Between Ironpaw Pack and Dubois Pack Terminated, May Form Alliance with Ashclaw Pack Instead!] At the same time, Connor was awakened from his sleep by an urgent phone call!

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