An accident left my face burned and scarred. After that, every mirror disappeared from our home. Thank God my husband Marcus loved me. He’s a plastic surgeon, and he didn’t care that I was ugly now. But one day, I was scrolling through his phone and found a post he’d made on Reddit: “I love my wife, but she was disfigured in a fire and the damage is severe. Every night, I just can’t feel any desire for her. I want to find a beautiful mistress, but I feel so guilty. What should I do?” The top comment read: “Find a woman and give her plastic surgery to look like your wife did before the accident.” The most unbelievable part? My husband replied: “Thanks for the advice!” My mind went blank. I gently locked his phone screen and placed it back on the couch. I didn’t know what that post meant. After my disfigurement, he changed my bandages himself every morning. His fingers were so gentle, like he was afraid I might shatter. The meals he prepared always perfectly matched my taste. He would often hold my hand and say: “Don’t be scared. I promise I’ll design the best surgical plan and make you look like yourself again.” Now, looking at that post, was he planning to abandon me? Just then, Marcus walked out of the bedroom. He hugged me excitedly. “I’m taking you for a checkup tomorrow. Your surgery will start soon.” But I kept my expression calm. Not long ago, you were posting online about finding a replacement. Now you’ve changed your mind? I said flatly: “Plastic surgery is expensive. And there’s no guarantee I’ll look the same. Are you sure you want to do this?” Hearing my defeated tone, Marcus suddenly looked angry. “Elena, what’s wrong with you now?” “Don’t you trust me? I’m one of the best plastic surgeons around. I promise I’ll make you look exactly like you did before.” “Don’t worry about the money. Worst case, we’ll sell our condo and buy something smaller. We can still make it work.” Then I said coldly: “Wouldn’t it be easier to just get a beautiful new wife?” Marcus froze. Then he gripped my wrist tightly, his eyes filled with an almost insane obsession. “No. I don’t want anyone but you.” I wanted to ask him why he made that post. But I swallowed the words. The next day, I went to the hospital for the checkup. I overheard Marcus on the phone, arguing intensely with a woman. “Why aren’t you coming in for the surgery? Do you know how hard it is to get an appointment like this? People wait a year for slots like these.” “I’ve prepared the entire surgical plan. If you don’t show up, I’ll lose hundreds of thousands of dollars. Don’t think I won’t sue you.” The woman on the other end was crying, promising she’d come tomorrow afternoon. Then Marcus’s tone changed, becoming strangely tender. “I’m just kidding. I wouldn’t really sue you.” “I like you too much for that.” Those few words left me frozen. I waited until Marcus hung up before slowly walking out of the examination room. I pretended nothing was wrong. Marcus put his arm around my waist and kissed my forehead, smiling. “How did the checkup go?” He took the report from my hands. Inside, I felt worthless. I’m already this ugly, I thought. How long are you going to keep pretending to love me?

Marcus glanced at the report and smiled. “I’ll schedule everything as soon as possible. Within two weeks, we’ll have the surgery done.” I mumbled agreement and went home, my mind full of doubts. I lay in bed, unable to sleep. Why would Marcus do my surgery if he already had someone else? Maybe he wanted to appease me first, then find an excuse to divorce me later. After all, even the best plastic surgery couldn’t completely restore my beauty. Maybe I should just ask for a divorce. I wouldn’t make a scene. I didn’t want to be anyone’s burden. The next afternoon when Marcus went to work, curiosity drove me to follow him to the hospital. That’s when I saw her. A young woman, laughing and talking with Marcus. I stood there, stunned. The girl’s silhouette looked familiar. I felt like I’d seen her somewhere before, but I couldn’t remember where. She was bold. She wrapped her arms around Marcus and kissed him on the lips. Then he led her inside the hospital. I wanted to follow them, to see what this girl actually looked like. But someone grabbed my arm. I turned around. It was my mother. I froze. “Mom, what are you doing here?” My mother looked anxious and pulled me back. “Honey, come home with me. This isn’t what you think.” Tears filled my eyes. I felt completely betrayed. So my mother knew. She knew Marcus was cheating on me. “Mom, you’ve known about this all along, haven’t you?” My mother nodded and practically dragged me into a car, taking me to my parents’ house. My dad was inside, smoking, his eyes distant. When he saw me, he pulled me to the couch and said: “Your mother went to check on you today and saw you following Marcus. She called me to come home and talk to you.” I sat down on the couch. I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror, half my face wrapped in bandages, and I broke down crying. I pointed at my father through my tears. “I’m ugly now, so Marcus doesn’t love me anymore. You both knew he was cheating and you didn’t tell me. Is it because you think I’m worthless now? You think if I get divorced, I’ll just be a burden to you?” I could guess what they were thinking. They didn’t want me to get divorced. With my ruined face, finding someone else wouldn’t be easy. I sobbed: “Are you going to tell me it’s normal for men to fool around?” But my mother waved her hands frantically. “Honey, don’t think like that. Divorcing now wouldn’t help you at all.” “Marcus is a plastic surgeon. You still need him to fix your face. Once the surgery is done, if you really don’t want to stay with him, you can divorce him then. It’s not too late.” My dad exhaled a cloud of smoke and frowned. “Your mother’s right. We’re not trying to hide things from you. We’re thinking about what’s best for you. Be practical. Once your face is fixed, you can kick Marcus to the curb. We won’t stop you.” My anger started to fade. But… would Marcus really perform the surgery on me? Suddenly, I wasn’t sure anymore.

I clearly remembered that Reddit post Marcus made. He’d said his wife was disfigured, that surgery would be expensive with no guarantee of results. Better to find a beautiful woman and give her surgery to look like me instead. My head started spinning. I thought about yesterday, overhearing Marcus on the phone with that woman, talking about surgery. I couldn’t hear my parents’ words anymore. When I got home, I sat alone on the couch for hours, unable to sleep. Marcus came home after midnight. Seeing I was still awake, he hung his coat by the door and walked over, trying to put his arm around my waist. “Why are you still up? Is something bothering you?” I pushed his hand away. I couldn’t hold back anymore. “I’m so ugly now. How can you even stand to touch me?” Marcus looked stunned. He stared into my eyes, trying to read something there. “Don’t think like that. I told you, I’ll make you look exactly like you used to.” He thought I was having a breakdown over my disfigurement. I said again: “You’re still lying to me. What’s the point?” Marcus laughed awkwardly. His eyes shifted away and he stood up from the couch. “I’m not lying. I know you’re upset, but trust me. This month, I’ll do your surgery. I’ll make you look like yourself again.” I couldn’t take it anymore. “You’re still lying. How long are you going to keep this up? Why don’t you just find some beautiful woman and make her look like I used to? Find yourself a replacement.” Marcus suddenly went silent. He stared at me without saying a word. To me, his silence was guilt. I pressed him: “Why so quiet now? Isn’t that what you’ve been planning all along?” Marcus grabbed his coat, muttered “You’re crazy,” and walked out the door. But I couldn’t let it go. At dawn, I stationed myself outside the hospital and spotted that woman.

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I’m the real daughter of the Harrison family. At my wedding, I was about to exchange rings with my fiancé Zachary. That’s when Clara—the wife of Zachary’s late brother—burst through the doors, her clothes in complete disarray. “Zachary, help me! Melody’s uncle Shane assaulted me!” “He mocked me for being the adopted daughter and said that since he raised the real daughter of the Harrison family, he’s their benefactor—so I should sleep with him… I can’t live like this anymore!” The guests erupted in chaos. They cursed Shane as a perverted asshole and blamed me for bringing a monster into our family. Zachary immediately took off his suit jacket and draped it over Clara’s shoulders, his face full of concern. Then he turned to me, his eyes cold as ice. “Melody, bring Shane out here!” “He needs to face punishment and cut off his own dick, or this wedding is over!” Looking at the murderous expressions on my parents’ faces and Zachary’s parents, I almost laughed. Because Shane didn’t even have that thing.

My mom rushed onto the stage and slapped me so hard my head snapped to the side. “How dare you smile?!” She was shaking with rage, her fingernails nearly poking into my eyes. “We never should have brought you back from the countryside, you ungrateful wretch!” “Clara is sweet and considerate. And you? The person you brought into our lives is a rapist!” My cheek burned with pain. I licked the metallic taste of blood from the corner of my mouth, my eyes ice-cold. “Mom, have the police arrived? Has a medical examiner verified anything? You’re just going to believe everything Clara says?” “How dare you!” My dad kicked over a nearby flower arrangement. “Would Clara joke about her own innocence? The evidence is clear and you still talk back!” He roared: “Security! Drag that Shane out here! Then in front of everyone in this city, castrate him! Make him apologize to Clara!” Clara’s clothes were torn, her neck covered in intimate red marks. She collapsed into Zachary’s arms, lifting her tear-stained face, her voice weak: “Dad, Mom… don’t blame Melody… Maybe Shane just couldn’t control himself… I don’t blame him, I just blame my terrible fate for taking Melody’s place…” Zachary’s eyes turned bloodshot as he held Clara tighter, as if trying to absorb her into his embrace. “That asshole dared to touch you? I’ll make sure he never uses that thing again!” Zachary turned to me, his eyes filled with disgust. “Melody, you heard her. Even now, Clara is begging for mercy for your Shane!” “A vicious woman like you doesn’t deserve to enter the Barrett family!” “You have three minutes. Bring that asshole here. If you let him escape, I’ll send you to prison to atone for what happened to Clara!” The guests below were all cursing me. “So what if she’s the real daughter? Her heart is pure evil.” “Exactly. Enabling a relative to rape a woman—this is a disgrace to high society.” “Mr. Barrett is doing the right thing. Monsters like that should be beaten to death!” I calmly pulled out my phone and stared coldly at Clara. “Clara, are you certain Shane assaulted you?” “It was him! I’ll never let him go, even if it kills me.” Clara glared at me through her tears. “Fine!” I turned to Zachary. “Zachary, you just said you’d castrate Shane, right?” Zachary spoke through gritted teeth: “Yes! I’ll make sure he loses all sexual function!” “Good.” I dialed the number and put it on speaker. “I’ll give you what you want.” The call connected. The massive roar of a motorcycle engine exploded through the speaker system. I spoke into the phone, my voice calm. “Shane, come to the wedding venue. Someone says they’re going to castrate you.”

A light, mocking laugh came from the other end. “Alright. Tell them to sharpen the knife.” Shane hung up. Zachary froze, then exploded in rage, smashing a glass. “She hung up? Melody, you put it on speaker to warn her, didn’t you?” “Zachary… I’m scared…” Clara trembled in Zachary’s arms. “That rapist took naked photos of me… If they get out…” “Clara, don’t be afraid!” Zachary’s eyes turned blood-red as he roared at the security guards: “Lock down the entire city! Find that asshole! Right here—I’m going to personally cut off that filthy thing!” Watching the man I was supposed to marry go insane while holding another woman, my heart grew colder and colder. Ever since Zachary’s older brother died in a car accident three months ago. Zachary had transformed from the devoted boyfriend who kept vigil for me on that snowy night into Clara’s on-call servant. “You ungrateful brat! What are you standing there for? Apologize to your sister now!” My dad, furious beyond reason, kicked me hard in the back. I lost my balance and fell to my knees on the floor. My knees slammed against the hard surface, instantly swelling and turning red. “As long as Clara forgives you, I’ll only send that rapist to prison and won’t kick you out of the Harrison family!” “I did nothing wrong. Why should I apologize?” I endured the excruciating pain and lifted my head, staring hard at these so-called “family members.” Six months ago when they brought me home, they called me the apple of their eye. But the moment Clara shed a tear, I became an ungrateful dog. “Still talking back!” My dad lost it completely and raised his hand to hit me again. “You’re worthless to the core! Since you won’t admit your fault, even if the Barrett family wants you dead today, the Harrison family won’t intervene!” “Dad, please don’t hit her…” Clara sobbed breathlessly, but triumph gleamed in her eyes. “It’s all my fault for having this face… Melody grew up in the countryside, so it’s not surprising she brought back bad people…” “Clara, you’re kind, but those who do evil must die.” Zachary looked up at the dozen live-streaming cameras at the wedding, his face twisted with rage as he announced: “Barrett Group is offering one million dollars for one of Shane’s hands!” “Harrison Corporation adds another million!” My dad immediately followed. The entire venue erupted. Camera flashes went crazy. I endured the severe pain and forced myself to stand up, snatching the microphone from the host’s hand. “Since you all think Shane did this, Zachary, Dad, Mom—dare you bet your entire fortunes with me?” My voice was hoarse but carried to every corner: “If Shane really assaulted Clara, I’ll not only personally arrest Shane but also give up my inheritance rights to the Harrison family and turn myself in to the police immediately!” My parents’ expressions changed slightly, showing hesitation. But I didn’t back down an inch, pressing forward step by step: “But if Shane is innocent, I want all of Barrett Group’s shares and all of the Harrison family assets.” “And you all must apologize to Shane in a live broadcast!” “As for Zachary—if you lose, your dick gets cut off!” “You’re insane!” My dad roared. “Is it worth betting on a rapist?” “Don’t you dare?” I shoved the microphone toward the live-streaming cameras, a mocking smile on my lips. “If the evidence is so clear, what are you afraid of? Or is this whole thing a fraud orchestrated by Clara?” “I’ll take that bet!” Clara suddenly threw off her outer garment, exposing her body covered in kiss marks and bruises, and screamed. “Dad, Mom, Zachary, agree to it! Being assaulted by Shane is a fact. My innocence can’t be destroyed like this!” “I want to watch Melody lose everything and see that rapist go to hell!” “Fine. Bring paper and pen. Let the whole internet witness this.” Zachary slammed his hand on the table. “Melody, today I’ll make you lose so badly you’ll have to accept it! When that asshole gets here, I’ll personally castrate him, then make you kneel at Clara’s feet like a dog!” A few minutes later. A “life-or-death betting agreement” was slapped down on the red carpet as cameras frantically took photos. They had just signed their names when the banquet hall doors were kicked open with a loud bang.

Shane walked in. She took off her helmet, revealing purple-pink wolf-cut hair that exploded wildly under the lights, black diamond earrings reflecting cold light. The cursing in the venue stopped as if someone had grabbed everyone by the throat. Shane ignored the surrounding gazes and walked straight to me, casually scanning the crowd. “Which dog was just barking about chopping me up for dog food?” When Clara saw Shane, her pupils constricted sharply and her face turned deathly pale. Her trembling finger pointed at Shane: “Zachary, that’s the one who assaulted me!” “He tore my clothes apart and pinned me down… said that since I’m the adopted daughter, I deserved to be raped…” The guests below instantly exploded! “He’s so arrogant! A rapist actually dares to show up like this!” “This kind of scum should be shot on the spot!” Shane glanced at Zachary, then looked down at me, a flash of heartache in her eyes: “Melody, this is your blind fiancé?” Zachary erupted in rage, pointing at Shane’s nose and roaring: “Shane, you asshole!” “Security, beat him! Now!” A dozen bodyguards with clubs approached menacingly. “Wait.” I stepped forward, standing in front of Shane, my eyes ice-cold. “Zachary, even judges give criminals a chance to speak.” “You’re so eager to convict Shane—are you trying to hide something?” “You…” Zachary was speechless with anger. Just then, Clara suddenly pushed him away and rushed toward the second-floor railing like a madwoman. “Since you’re all deceived by his appearance… I might as well die!” “Clara!” Without giving anyone time to react. Clara climbed over the railing and jumped. The entire venue screamed. Clara crashed heavily to the ground, her left leg twisted at a grotesque angle, blood instantly staining the floor. The venue fell into dead silence. The next second, screaming exploded! “The victim was driven to suicide!” “Beat this asshole to death!” Zachary rushed down the stairs like a madman and scooped up the blood-covered Clara. “Clara! Clara, don’t scare me!” Everyone followed to the first floor. Clara’s face was deathly pale, her lips purple, but she still stared hard at Shane. “Now… do you believe me? Shane did assault me!” Clara’s voice was weak, trembling with every word. “Shane, I want you to pay with your life!!” Zachary’s eyes turned blood-red as he roared at Shane. My mom rushed over and slapped me across the face again. “You brat! Why wasn’t it you who got assaulted!” My dad followed, raising his foot to kick my stomach. “Clara risked her life and you still dare to argue! Today I’ll teach you a proper lesson!” Shane wrapped an arm around my waist and quickly dodged backward. My dad lost his balance and fell to the ground with a thud. So my dad lay on the ground, shaking with rage. Guests frantically took photos. The live stream was filled with curses. “The real daughter is truly vicious!” “The adopted daughter used her life to prove she wasn’t lying, and the real daughter still argues!” Clara was shaking all over in pain, but she still secretly flashed me a triumphant smile. In that instant, I suddenly understood. She deliberately used one leg to completely establish her identity as the “victim.”

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After I became pregnant, the truth about my marriage finally became clear. My husband Andrew’s so-called “childhood friend” Quinn could freely enter our bedroom, spend my money, and live in the house I had paid for. Meanwhile, I, the legal wife who had covered the mortgage and supported the household, was treated like an outsider, mocked, and had my contributions publicly itemized at our housewarming party. When I refused to keep footing the bill, they called me cheap. When I tried to uphold my boundaries, they called me vicious. Then came that stormy night, when he, faced with a life-or-death decision, unequivocally placed me and our unborn child last. In that moment, I finally understood. This wasn’t favoritism. This was calculated abandonment. If they wanted me gone, this time I would make the first move. 1 Emily POV There was never any boundary between my husband Andrew and his childhood friend Quinn. Our friends and family didn’t see it as odd. They praised their “unbreakable bond.” As the lady of the house, I’d watch Quinn walk into our bedroom without knocking. When she admired the matching mugs I’d bought, Andrew gave her the one that said “His” without a second thought. He even let her nap in our bed. “We’re all family,” he’d say. “What’s the big deal?” The moment I showed any discomfort, Quinn would pout and sigh. “Andrew and I have always been like this. I can’t just change overnight.” A cold laugh rose in my throat. Screw your childhood bond. On the day of our new housewarming party, I was in the kitchen, heavily pregnant, preparing dinner. Andrew and Quinn were side-by-side on the sofa, playing video games, just waiting for the meal. Other guests chatted in the living room, wine glasses in hand. Not one offered to help me, a pregnant woman. At dinner, Andrew completely disregarded table manners, immediately forking the tenderest piece of roast beef from his plate to Quinn’s. “I know you like the tender cuts. This one’s for you.” Quinn complained her sauce was too spicy, and without a second thought, she used her own fork to reach into Andrew’s plate and take a side dish. “Andrew, yours looks better. I want this.” Odessa, my mother-in-law, beamed, her face creasing with delight. “That’s right! Quinn grew up in our house, she doesn’t mind!” My hand, holding the knife and fork, hovered in mid-air, feeling utterly out of place. I paid the down payment for this house, I handled the mortgage, and I bought all the party ingredients and drinks. Yet, at this dining table, I felt like a stranger forced to share a meal. After dinner, a friend suggested we play Truth or Dare. The mood was loose and boozy. I sat in the corner with my glass of warm water, watching. Andrew lost. His friends nudged him toward the dare, grinning. “If there were no legal consequences, who would you most want to give this house to?” A few of his childhood buddies immediately shouted, “That’s a given! For Quinn, as a wedding gift!” Andrew chuckled, trying to play it off. “Quinn’s like my little sister. What’s mine is hers.” Quinn chimed in, “Exactly! Emily makes so much money, she can just buy another one, right?” Everyone raised their glasses and cheered, as if they had already decided the ownership of my property. Andrew’s friends even started idly playing with the cash on the table, half-jokingly asking for a share. I walked to the liquor cabinet, grabbed a bottle of Andrew’s prized aged whiskey, and smashed it fiercely onto the marble floor of the living room. Glass shattered, the scent of whiskey filled the air, and the entire room fell silent. “So eager to divide up my house? Fine. The police can come, they can make it official.” I pulled out my phone and dialed 91

“Hello, police? There’s an illegal gambling gathering here, with large sums of money involved.” Andrew rushed over to snatch my phone, his face pale. “Emily, are you crazy? It’s just a friendly card game, why call the cops? Do you want to ruin my career?” 2 Emily POV I looked at Andrew as he shielded Quinn and the money behind him, tears in my voice. “You’re in finance, Andrew. How will you explain this to your company? That you’re using your wife’s salary to fund your neighbor, while your wife is just the fool who pays for everything?” He kept Quinn behind him and lowered his voice to a sharp hiss. “You’re out of line. Quinn was just joking. Why do you have to be so stingy?” “If protecting my own money makes me cheap, then yes, I won’t pay another cent.” Andrew grabbed my arm, accusing me of humiliating him in front of his childhood friends. “Everyone’s here for our new housewarming party!” “Don’t be so obsessed with money.” Hearing that, I turned and slapped him hard across the face. Quinn immediately rushed forward, clutching Andrew’s arm tightly, her eyes welling up with tears. “Andrew, it’s all my fault for being poor and not having a good education. I just made Emily angry.” She sobbed, saying her family was unfortunate since she was little, and Odessa’s family gave her warmth. Andrew just looked out for her like a brother. “Andrew, quickly apologize to Emily. She’s a rich lady, it’s normal for her to look down on people from our background. Don’t let me ruin your relationship.” Her words made all the guests present look at me with hostility and contempt. The guest room door burst open, and Odessa stormed out, pushing me aside to stand in front of the crying Quinn. She pointed a finger at my face. “You dare hit him? You dare hit my son? How can you be so heartless? Quinn is such a good kid, what’s wrong with using your fork? Is someone going to die?” “Odessa, this is about boundaries. This is my home.” “What’s this ‘your home, my home’ nonsense? You married Andrew, you’re part of my family now! So what if you have money? If you look down on us, just say so!” Andrew stood behind the two women, silently condoning his mother’s attack on me. I watched Odessa tenderly wipe Quinn’s tears, while my husband checked his face for a slap mark. I remembered when we got married, I didn’t ask for any valuable gifts, and even paid for Odessa’s medical expenses. She held my hand and said she’d treat me like her own daughter. Turns out, being treated like a daughter meant being an ATM with no right to complain. Andrew stood there, clutching his face, frozen by his wounded ego. Quinn leaned close to his ear and whispered, “Andrew, your credit card payments next month still depend on Emily.” Andrew’s face changed. He looked at me stiffly. “Fine, my attitude was bad, alright? Stop making a scene.” I shook off his hand, slammed the door, and walked out. The elevator still hadn’t arrived. I leaned against the cold wall as a wave of dizziness washed over me, a symptom of the high blood pressure brought on by my pregnancy. Andrew caught up to me. “Just because you’re an executive, you think you’re better than my friends who aren’t as successful. You’re such a snob.” “Can’t you learn from Quinn? She might not have money, but she’s great at socializing! You always have that sour look on your face, like everyone owes you something!” “If I really wanted to support her, why would I wait until today? Our bond is pure familial affection. You’re just thinking dirty!” As he lectured me, I noticed the new watch on his wrist. It was my birthday gift to him last month, bought with my bonus. Now, on the watch face, there was a greasy fingerprint. It was left there when Quinn grabbed his wrist, pouting and clinging to him earlier. “Yes, my thoughts are dirty! Only you two are the most noble!” “The renovation funds? You used them to pay off Quinn’s payday loans. The prenatal check-up money I saved? You used it to buy her gifts.” “Just now, you let Quinn humiliate me, and then you accused me of being cheap.” “From this moment on, Andrew, I’m canceling all your credit cards.” 3 Emily POV I drove out of the complex and parked by the river. My phone vibrated continuously on the passenger seat. It was a text message from the bank about a deduction. Just during that whole drama, Andrew had charged another club private room fee. I was gone, but my money was still paying their bills. The latest transaction was five hundred dollars. The memo read “Just for fun.” I remembered how I cherished my three-year-old foundation empty bottle, refusing to throw it away, to save money for imported baby formula. Andrew didn’t have that kind of spending power. This money was spent on Quinn and his crew of freeloaders. This wasn’t a marriage; it was charity, it was being drained dry. I quickly opened my bank app and froze all his credit cards. No doubt, the house must be in an uproar right now. Sure enough, through the home security camera, I saw- Andrew, his back to the empty doorway, promising Quinn on his phone, “Don’t cry, baby. I’ve ordered your favorite gourmet pizza. I’ll be right back to be with you.” He skillfully opened the payment page, ready to use my credit card. “Everyone didn’t have enough fun tonight, so I’m paying for the pizza too!” “Insufficient balance. Payment declined.” Quinn’s sweet voice urged, “Andrew, why isn’t it ready yet? I’m hungry.” His friends laughed mockingly. “Andrew, did Emily cut off your money supply? It’s clear who wears the pants in your house.” To save face, Andrew immediately opened a high-interest loan app, took out a loan, and gritted his teeth, mentally putting the debt on my tab. When I returned to the complex, before even going upstairs, I heard faint commotion from above. I touched my lower abdomen and sent a message to my lawyer, Brandon. He was my high school classmate, specializing in family law. Brandon’s voice message quickly came back: “Emily, based on the financial statements you provided, if you don’t do a property division promptly, every debt he incurs could be classified as marital joint debt. You’d not only be supporting him but also his ‘dear sister.’ This divorce needs to be strategic.” Back home, as soon as I opened the door, it was a mess. The air was thick with the smell of smoke, alcohol, and greasy pizza. Andrew and Quinn were head-to-head, curled up on the sofa playing games, as if they were the true masters of the house. I calmly walked back to the guest room and closed the door. 4 Emily POV Early Saturday morning, I woke up with a sharp abdominal pain and shook Andrew awake. “Take me to the ER.” He saw my pale face, poured a cup of hot tea. “The company has an urgent meeting with a big client. I can’t go with you.” I weakly clutched his sleeve. “The client is pressing. Just call an Uber yourself.” A hurried honk sounded from downstairs. It was my car. My hand was still gripping him. Andrew’s face suddenly changed. He pushed me away. “Are you done or not? It’s just pregnancy! Don’t be so dramatic! Don’t mess with my important business!” He left in such a hurry that he kicked over the cup of hot tea. The scalding tea splashed onto the top of my foot, leaving a red mark, but he didn’t even look back. The door slammed shut with a loud bang. I collapsed onto the bench in the entryway, unexpectedly noticing Andrew’s forgotten iPad, its screen still lit. On the screen was a group chat interface called “Family Group.” As if possessed, I swiped the screen. Odessa’s voice message popped up: “That useless woman is so difficult to deal with. Quinn is so much more considerate.” I scrolled down further. Quinn: “Andrew, I saw a new LV bag, it’d go perfectly with your car. I want it~” Andrew replied with a transfer screenshot, the amount was eight thousand dollars. “Go wild, if it’s not enough, just ask me. Just don’t let that crazy woman know.” Further down were chat records between Andrew and his childhood friend. “After Emily gives birth, we’ll transfer her house to my mom’s name, then we can have Quinn move in.” It felt as if all the blood had been drained from my body. They were scheming to take my property. There was also a photo in the chat history, a candid shot of my insurance policy. Andrew asked in the group: “Mom, talk to your psychic and figure out, if this woman has an accident during childbirth, am I the beneficiary of this policy?” Mrs. Odessa replied: “As long as you’re not divorced, you’re the primary beneficiary.” Beneficiary. I remembered when I bought life insurance, Andrew’s concerned face: “Honey, let’s get a high-value one. If anything happens, I can still take care of this family for you.” Turns out, that wasn’t to guard against risk; it was to anticipate risk. I accurately exported all chat records and transfer records to my cloud drive. Then I used my phone to photograph my swollen foot and the empty room, sending them to my lawyer, Brandon. “Evidence. This is one piece of evidence that he abandoned a pregnant woman.” 5 Emily POV I slowly and with difficulty walked to the balcony, looking downstairs. The SUV I treasured was parked at the apartment entrance, the passenger window halfway down. Quinn sat there; that was my exclusive seat. “Andrew, what took you so long? I’m practically melting.” Andrew’s face was plastered with smiles, showing none of the irritation he’d had with me. “My mistake, I was just held up by that unpleasant woman back home.” He opened the car door and slid into the driver’s seat. He didn’t rush to drive off but leaned over, naturally pulling Quinn’s seatbelt for her. They were so close their noses almost touched. Quinn took the opportunity to caress Andrew’s face, her voice sweet and coquettish. “You really do love me the most.” Andrew playfully tapped her nose. “Silly girl, if I don’t dote on you, who will?” The engine roared, and the car sped away. I stood in the shadows, watching the pair of red taillights disappear from view. In that scene just now, a pink Hello Kitty charm hung on the rearview mirror. I had wanted to throw it away before, thinking it didn’t match the car’s interior style, but Andrew stopped me, saying it was a lucky charm, for warding off evil. Turns out, it was Quinn’s mark. The entire car, from the scent of the air freshener to the placement of the charms, had long been claimed by that woman. I wasn’t just the housekeeper in this home, I was the driver of this car, and even a pawn in their flirtatious games. After checking myself and confirming there was nothing serious, I called Brandon. “Help me check Andrew’s recent itinerary. Where are they going?” Brandon replied quickly. “Found it. He just posted his location on Instagram, saying he’s taking his ‘sister’ to a mountain retreat for some fresh air. Are you going too?” The mountain terrain was complex, with poor signal. If something were to happen there, for both him and myself, it would be the perfect cover. “Yes,” I told Brandon. “Some debts can only be settled in the right place.” Hanging up the phone, I dialed Andrew’s number again. The phone rang for a long time before he answered, car music blaring in the background. “I’m coming too,” I said into the receiver. “The doctor said I also need fresh air.” Andrew’s voice was full of impatience. “Why would you go to the mountains while pregnant? Don’t make things difficult!” “You haven’t paid the maintenance for that SUV, have you? And all your camping gear for this trip, I heard you wanted top-of-the-line? I just got my bonus, perfect timing to pay for it.” Silence stretched for two seconds on the other end of the line. Then Quinn’s voice chimed in. “Andrew, if Emily wants to come, let her. We could use someone to cook anyway.” Andrew’s tone immediately changed. “Fine. Just call an Uber and meet us there.” 6 Emily POV At the high-end outdoor equipment store, Andrew was holding up an imported two-person tent, priced over a thousand dollars, sizing it up. Quinn stood beside him, holding her phone to find the perfect angle for a selfie, then looked down to edit her Instagram post. Seconds later, I scrolled past her update. The picture was of her and Andrew’s backs, with the caption: “Spontaneous trip, so glad to have a boy who spoils me #AdventureTime.” I stood at the checkout counter, watching Andrew pile up all the items. “Emily, hurry up, it’s two thousand dollars total.” Andrew gestured, taking it for granted. I glanced at the pile of items: besides the tent, there was a full set of camping cookware and two top-tier sleeping bags. “Don’t we already have a tent at home?” I asked. “And why buy a two-person one? How will three of us fit?” Quinn leaned over, looping her arm through Andrew’s. “Emily, the old one is so tacky, it won’t look good in pictures. Plus, this one is windproof and waterproof, it’s for everyone’s good, right? As for sleeping, well, the tighter we cuddle, the warmer we’ll be.” Andrew grew impatient, glancing at the people waiting in line behind them. “Don’t dawdle. There are people waiting. Didn’t you just get your bonus? Don’t be so stingy.” Before paying, I deliberately raised my voice to the cashier. “Could you please issue the receipt in my personal name? And make a note: purchased with pre-marital personal funds.” The cashier paused for a moment, then nodded and processed it. Andrew’s face darkened. He felt I was being too clear about the separation in front of outsiders, making him lose face. But he looked at the pile of new gear and held back from reacting. By the time we arrived at the mountain campsite, the sky was overcast. It was a semi-developed camping spot, and vehicles could only be parked halfway up the mountain. As the only pregnant woman, I was assigned to carry two five-liter water jugs and a box of groceries. Andrew, meanwhile, was busy helping Quinn adjust her live stream stand, searching for the best lighting. I carried the water jugs, a dull ache spreading through my lower back. Suddenly, Quinn’s shriek came from over there: “Ow! I cut my finger!” Andrew immediately dropped the tent peg he was holding and rushed over to grab her hand and inspect it. I looked too. She merely had a tiny hangnail on the edge of her finger. Yet Andrew’s face was anxious. He cupped her hand, gently blowing on it. “How could you be so careless? Does it hurt?” I remembered earlier, when I strained my back carrying the water jugs and gasped for breath, Andrew only glanced back once and said, “You’re so delicate. More exercise is good for labor.” A person’s subconscious reactions don’t lie. In his subconscious ranking, Quinn was a fragile piece of porcelain to be protected, while I was a sturdy earthenware pot built for abuse. I put down the water jugs and emotionlessly began to build a campfire. Once the fire was lit, Quinn sat on a folding chair and directed, “Emily, I want my steak medium-rare, with lots of black pepper. No green onions, please.” I threw the tongs onto the grill pan. “I’m pregnant. I can’t stand the smell of cooking fumes. If you want to eat, grill it yourself.” Andrew frowned, his tone growing stern. “Quinn trusts your cooking! How can you act like this as my wife? Don’t be a spoilsport, everyone’s hungry.” I picked up the tongs again and flipped the meat, mentally adding a labor fee for this meal to my future divorce claims. Once the steak was cooked, Quinn immediately snatched it. She took a bite but spat it directly onto the ground. “Ugh, it’s too tough. I can’t even chew it. Emily, are you doing this on purpose?” A low rumble of thunder rolled across the sky. The mountain air grew humid and sticky. Dark clouds rapidly gathered in the distance. Andrew and Quinn were still laughing and playing, completely oblivious to the approaching downpour. Ten minutes later, the rain poured down in sheets. Water instantly drenched the ground. The three of us scrambled into the sole two-person tent. Rain pounded on the tent fabric, creating a deafening roar. The once spacious area felt terribly cramped with three people squeezed inside. Quinn claimed she was afraid of thunder and insisted on squeezing between Andrew and me. Another explosive clap of thunder. Quinn shrieked and burrowed into Andrew’s arms, kicking her legs wildly. Her heel landed heavily on my swollen belly. I let out a muffled groan and reached out to push her foot away. Andrew, however, turned on me. “What’s wrong with you? Can’t you see she’s terrified? You’re tough. Let her have it.” He took off his windbreaker, wrapped it around Quinn, and patted her back as if soothing a child. “Don’t be scared. I’m right here.” He picked up a thermos and poured hot water for Quinn to drink. My own water bottle lay empty, half-submerged in the muddy corner of the tent. I clutched my aching stomach and watched them hold each other. In that moment, my heart died completely.

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The day Damian Thorne became a mafia boss, I took the bullet meant for his heart. A searing pain tore through my shoulder. Through the haze, I heard Damian say calmly, “Aria, I owe you for this. But I must give Seraphina a wedding.” I forced a bitter smile, handing him the divorce papers I’d already prepared. He glanced at the document, then shook his head. “You will still be my wife in name. But Seraphina will be moving in with me.” Seeing his unwavering resolve, I was too exhausted to argue anymore. He seemed to have forgotten, though. Five years ago, when we went to file our marriage papers in Ireland, he was so drunk he could only scribble his name. Our marriage was never legally binding. It could end at any moment. The blood on my shoulder kept flowing, a steady, silent leak. Damian frowned and lifted me onto the sofa. I watched him stride off to find a doctor. Then I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I hadn’t touched in years. “Caleb,” I said, my voice tight. “Does your promise from five years ago still count?” “Aria. I’ve been waiting for you to call.” I hung up just as Damian led the doctor back in. The physician cut away my blood-soaked sleeve, his face turning grim. “She needs a transfusion now. If I recall, Mrs. Thorne is RH-negative?” The nurse beside him breathed out in relief. “Thank god Mr. Thorne stockpiles rare blood at the estate. Otherwise, this would have been fatal.” But Damian explained, “That blood is reserved for Seraphina. She’s been frail since the accident.” I glanced at Seraphina, sitting in her wheelchair, encircled by bodyguards. In five years of marriage, Damian had never assigned a single guard to me. The day we returned from Ireland, he’d dropped me at an elite combat training facility instead. His message was clear. “If you want to stand beside me, you have to learn to stand on your own first.” The blood entering my veins felt like ice water, chilling me to the core. When it was over, the doctor offered his final note. “Mrs. Thorne is stable, but she requires complete rest.” Damian leaned in, taking my hand. His eyes held no warmth. “You can’t rest yet. You need to introduce Seraphina to everyone first. I won’t have her seen as my mistress. I won’t allow her to be disrespected.” Next to the matter of Seraphina Vance’s reputation, my injury seemed irrelevant. I gave a bitter, almost imperceptible smile. “Then sign the divorce papers.” Our marriage held no legal weight, but the assets we’d accumulated did. They needed to be divided. Damian’s face tightened with impatience. “Don’t be absurd, Aria. Seraphina caught a chill yesterday. She needs to rest. She can’t wait for you to be ready.” I smiled. “Fine, I’ll go.” I stood up from the sofa. “Damian, you know I’m crazy. The second I get near that bitch, I might just lose it and kill her on the spot!” With that, I turned on my heel and strode towards the crowd without looking back.

Damian froze for a moment, then quickly recovered, chasing after me. When I reached out my hand to Seraphina, Damian’s face contorted in utter panic. “Aria! Don’t you dare!” The bodyguards instantly went on high alert. But in the end, I did nothing but gently take the glass of wine from Seraphina’s hand. Turning back, I met Damian’s wary gaze, and I couldn’t help but find it amusing. He was so protective of his true love that he couldn’t even maintain his perfect composure anymore. It was the doctor beside me who worriedly advised, “Mrs. Thorne, you shouldn’t be drinking right now…” I waved him off, signaling him to stop. Then I tilted my head back, drained the wine, and smiled at everyone. “Today’s a good day. I saved my husband, and as a reward, he’s brought me a companion.” The people around us exchanged awkward glances. No one was blind; anyone could see the undisguised affection Damian had for Seraphina. “But Miss Hayes just took a bullet for Mr. Thorne!” “Well, it’s their private business. If Miss Hayes doesn’t mind, what can we say?” I ignored the whispers, smiling sweetly at Seraphina. “Seraphina, you’ll be moving into the Thorne estate from now on. You can keep me company.” I took off a bracelet Damian’s mother had given me and slipped it onto Seraphina’s wrist. “This bracelet is for you.” Seraphina’s face lit up with a flattered smile. She knew the significance of that bracelet. Damian’s expression, however, was grim. He lowered his voice. “What are you doing? Do you know what my mother’s bracelet represents?” I batted away his hand, which was trembling for some reason, and said with a smile, “What’s wrong? You told me to be generous. Aren’t I being very generous right now?” I’d drunk the wine too quickly, and it was already going to my head. I steadied myself, sidestepped a passing server, and was about to leave. Damian grabbed my hand again, his eyes swirling with an emotion I couldn’t decipher. A wave of intense fatigue washed over me. I pressed my temples and whispered, “Do I still need to play along with your charade? If not, I’m going back to my room to rest.” He opened and closed his mouth, hesitating. “You haven’t eaten all day…” How rare. He was actually showing concern for me. Before I could answer, Seraphina’s startled cry instantly pulled Damian’s attention away. “Oh! These shrimp are so hot.” Damian no longer spared me a glance, tenderly examining Seraphina’s slightly reddened fingers. “How can you be so clumsy? If you want shrimp, I’ll peel them for you.” Even though we’d been estranged for five years, Damian and I weren’t without our tender moments as a couple. Once, after I’d worked for weeks to finalize a deal for him, he’d actually carved salmon for me at the dinner table. But when I’d tentatively asked him to peel shrimp for me, his response was a cold, hard line. “I’m not a servant. Don’t push your luck.” Now, Seraphina didn’t have to do anything to receive his complete, unreserved affection. My throat felt constricted. Suddenly, the wound on my shoulder throbbed so much I could barely breathe. In the dim room, I found myself chain-smoking. “Smoking so much? Don’t you want your wound to heal?” Damian had come in unnoticed, pressing down on the hand holding my cigarette. The cigarette was pulled from my hand, replaced by a plate of steak and shrimp. The shrimp were peeled. I was a little surprised. “I peeled too many. Seraphina couldn’t finish them all. Don’t waste them.” My appetite vanished instantly. I picked up my lighter, ready to light another cigarette. “Don’t smoke. From today on, you’re going to quit with me.” Damian casually tossed the lighter into the trash can. Meeting my questioning gaze, Damian explained, “Seraphina isn’t well, I won’t let her breathe secondhand smoke.” Somehow, my eyes felt a little moist. My father was a drunk, and smoking and drinking were things I despised. But Damian was a heavy smoker, and in our first year together, I had tried to get him to quit. Each time, he’d defiantly blow smoke rings in my face. “Can’t stand it? Then get used to it.” He even went so far as to force me to smoke daily, just to get me to stop bothering him about it, until I, too, became dependent on nicotine. A notification from my phone vibrated, pulling me back to reality. I glanced down; it was my flight information. I turned my body, shielding the screen from Damian’s inquisitive gaze. He paused, a frown creasing his brow. “What’s the message?”

I dodged his hand as he reached for my phone, then looked up, gesturing towards the door. “Your little sweetheart is here.” At the doorway, Seraphina met Damian’s gaze, then meekly lowered her head. “Damian, am I interrupting? I didn’t mean to, I just… it’s raining today, and my leg hurts so much…” Her tears came quickly. “You know I can’t sleep when it rains, without you by my side.” I let out a heavy breath, suddenly understanding whose side Damian was on all those rainy nights he didn’t come home. He had brought Seraphina back as early as our first anniversary. He would never know that on rainy days, my lower abdomen would also ache faintly. That was the first rainy night he didn’t come home. On our anniversary, I waited with my pregnancy test results until past midnight, only to receive a message from his enemies saying he’d been kidnapped. No video, no pictures, not even an audio recording, yet I believed it. I rushed to the docks alone. When it came to him, I always seemed to lose all reason. By morning, he was probably just getting out of Seraphina’s bed. And I was lucky to be alive, after lying unconscious in a pool of blood for so long. Only, I’d lost the baby. A brief separation makes the heart grow fonder; rekindling old flames surely meant hours of whispered intimacies. No wonder when his men frantically urged him to the hospital to see me, he’d snapped impatiently, “Aria, your pity play won’t work on me. I was only gone for one night, there’s no need to make such a huge scene.” Good thing I never told him about the baby, or he’d have thought me even more cunning. My thoughts snapped back to the present. I walked towards the door. I had no desire to watch this loving couple get intimate. I couldn’t stand Seraphina’s feigned fragility. As I passed her, her wheelchair suddenly tipped over, and she landed on the floor with a thud. “Ah! My leg…” “Seraphina!” Damian rushed out to help her, bumping into my shoulder as he sidestepped. That slight force alone shouldn’t have made me fall, but the bullet wound on my shoulder seemed to tear open again. The pain was excruciating. My vision blurred, and I collapsed to my knees. Damian, however, thought I was still trying something. He protectively pulled Seraphina to the other side and sharply reprimanded me. “What else are you trying to do?” Unjustly accused, I said coldly, “I didn’t push her. There are security cameras in the hallway, aren’t there? Go check them.” Seraphina sobbed uncontrollably. “Damian, let it go. She probably didn’t mean it. It’s my fault for not getting out of her way…” Damian patted her shoulder soothingly, a frown on his face. “Is there really a need to check? If you say it wasn’t you, then did Seraphina push herself over? Her leg can’t move.” Her leg can move! I saw it clearly just now. My throat was dry and sore, but the words caught in my mouth and I swallowed them back down. I was leaving anyway. There was no need to say things he’d never believe. “My leg… Damian, my leg hurts so bad…” Damian, oblivious to everything else, hastily scooped Seraphina into his arms. Before he left, he shot me a cold glare. “Today’s incident won’t be forgotten so easily.” It was the housekeeper who noticed the blood still oozing from my shoulder and rushed to take me to the hospital. Before the car even reached the hospital, I received a call. “Miss Hayes, your father’s condition is unstable. He’s threatening to kill himself if he doesn’t see you!” Suicide? No, that wouldn’t do. I still wanted him to live a life worse than death. I rubbed my temples, irritated, and told the driver to turn towards the sanatorium. At the sanatorium, the moment my bastard father saw me, his cloudy eyes suddenly cleared. “Aria, you finally came to see me. I know I was wrong. Will you forgive me? Your mother…” “Shut up!” I couldn’t hold back anymore and lunged forward, grabbing his throat. He had no right to mention my mother. Reason returned, and I disgusted, loosened my grip on his neck. In that instant, a small knife appeared in his hand, and he suddenly lunged, aiming for my throat. “Aria Hayes, die! Just die!” I raised my arm to block him, and the wound stretched from my wrist straight up to my elbow. A sedative shot, and the man on the bed gradually became still. My hand wouldn’t stop trembling. The caregiver thought it was from pain and frantically tried to pull me away to bandage the wound. It wasn’t until she couldn’t move me at all that she followed my gaze to the small knife on the floor. It was the knife I had given Damian for protection. I let out a scoff. Sure enough, the closer people were, the better they knew where to stab to hurt the most.

“Why are you still stubbornly clinging on? Damian said he doesn’t want to see you again.” With Damian gone, Seraphina had no need to act frail around me. I was busy packing my luggage, with no time to deal with her, but I glanced at her empty wrist and casually asked, “Where’s the diamond bracelet? Why aren’t you wearing it?” She was so eager to join the Thorne family; it didn’t make sense for her not to wear the bracelet symbolizing the Thorne family matriarch’s position. Seraphina’s smile froze, then she said viciously, “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?” “Didn’t you use some shady tactics to threaten Damian into taking the ring back? And now you’re deliberately bringing it up to gross me out. You’re clearly not that generous.” She sneered, lifting her chin. “But what does it matter if I have that bracelet or not? The only one who can truly get into Damian’s heart is me!” I frowned. Damian took it back? I shook my head, not wanting to guess Damian’s thoughts anymore, and ignoring Seraphina’s provocation. Lost in packing my luggage, I didn’t notice the sudden vicious glint in Seraphina’s eyes. A commotion erupted in the mansion. By the time I realized something was wrong, a tranquilizer dart hit the back of my neck. Before my vision blurred, I saw the face of one of Damian Thorne’s enemies. I woke up to a swaying motion, on a boat. Seraphina had woken up earlier than me and was tremblingly demanding, “Just grab her! Why did you grab me too?” Sure enough, she had dismissed the bodyguards around the mansion and let these people in. The man only sneered at Seraphina’s naive plea and turned to answer Damian’s call. Damian’s voice came through, rough with strain. “Your father is free. Now let them both go.” “There’s no such thing as two for one, is there? Two women, you can only choose one.” After a long silence, Damian still didn’t make a choice. Seraphina grew anxious. “Damian, save me! My leg can’t move. Aria can escape on her own. I can’t do this without you…” I stayed silent, my sharp eyes noticing that Damian’s men seemed to have already infiltrated the boat. The next second, the boat’s power was cut, and the entire vessel plunged into the boundless darkness of the sea. Then, gunshots, dull thuds, and the sound of bodies falling followed in quick succession. In mere moments, control changed hands. The leader, shot in the abdomen, let out a strange laugh. “Damian, you truly are treacherous. But you never expected this, did you? There’s a bomb on board, and I’m taking both your women down with me!” To approach unnoticed, the rescue boat Damian had dispatched was small, clearly only able to save one person. Damian’s breathing grew heavier. He roared, “Save Seraphina first!” The cold wind made my eyes ache. I heard Damian continue, “Aria, you know how to stop the bomb, right? I taught you.” “Go on!” I stared blankly at the device, its red numbers flashing down. Thirty, twenty-nine, twenty-eight… “Damian,” I said, my voice barely a whisper, “I truly regret ever loving you.” On the other end, Damian heard every word. “Aria…please…I’m begging you, don’t” His voice was almost shock. “Mr. Thorne,” a voice crackled in his earpiece. “Seraphina and I are secure.” At that exact moment, a massive fireball tore across the surface of the sea.

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I dropped by the company Chloe Miller runs for a surprise audit. The second I walked in, I spotted a newly built room. It was kitted out with high-end computers and audio equipment. Inside, a stylishly dressed guy was completely zoned into a game, the volume cranked so loud it made the office walls vibrate. A few minutes later, he lost the game. Pissed, he slammed his keyboard, stormed out, and pointed at the employees outside. “Can’t you guys type more quietly?! If you hadn’t been so loud, I wouldn’t have lost!” I pulled the intern next to me aside and asked who’d hired this clown. The intern whispered, “He’s CEO Miller’s husband, Jake. I heard that he owns the whole company.” My temples started throbbing. He’s Chloe’s husband? Then what the hell am I? I pulled out my phone and called my dad. “Dad, tell Chloe to bring the divorce papers to the office. Now.” Dad sent me to the company to test Chloe. He said it was just a routine check—nothing to stress over, just a chance for me to get acquainted with the business. I figured it’d be just a formality. I told the receptionist I was an auditor from Corporate, and she swiped me through security without a hitch. The second I stepped into the office floor, a deafening wall of game noise hit me. At the far end of the space was a new glass-walled room packed with top-of-the-line computer gear—a massive monitor, mechanical keyboard, high-end mouse, and a full surround sound setup. A silver-haired kid in a trendy hoodie was glued to the screen, headphones on, furiously smashing buttons. “C’mon! You guys suck! Can’t you play any better?!” He muttered curses under his breath, fingers flying across the keyboard, totally zoned into his gaming bubble. Outside, the employees all looked miserable. A few had noise-canceling headphones on, heads down in their work. Not five minutes later, a furious yell erupted from the glass room. The guy ripped off his headphones, slammed them on the desk, then smash his keyboard before yanking open the glass door and storming out. He pointed at the programmers crunching to meet deadlines and started yelling. “Can’t you guys type quieter?! Tap, tap, tap! It’s so freaking annoying!” “I lost that last team fight ’cause you jerks were too loud! A bunch of losers—can’t you work quietly?” The programmer he was yelling at froze, face flushing red then paling, hand trembling on the mouse. “Clearly, you’re just trash at the game…” mumbled a female colleague next to him. “What’d you say?” Jake’s ears pricked up. He whirled on her. “Say that again—I dare you.” The woman flinched, shrinking back in her chair, too scared to peep. I watched the scene go down, my blood starting to boil. I flagged down a young-looking intern nearby. “Who’s this clown?” The intern glanced at me, then quickly at Jake’s retreating back, eyes wide with nervousness. He put his finger to his lips, signaling me to keep it down. “Shhh.” He leaned in close, voice scarcely audible. “He’s Chloe Miller’s husband, Jake—our GM.” My heart dropped. All of Chloe’s weird behavior lately suddenly clicked. The intern kept going. “Word is he owns the whole company—so he’s the real boss around here.” “You new here? You’ll get used to it after a few days.” He sighed, looking way more worn-out than his age. “Chloe even built that room just for him to game. He usually holes up in there, so we don’t deal with him much.” “He must’ve lost a bunch of games today—so he’s in a crappy mood and came out to vent.” His words bounced around my head, mind spinning. He’s Chloe’s husband. Then what the hell am I? The intern caught my expression and frowned worriedly. “You good? You look awful.” I shook my head, forcing a smile. “I’m fine—just a little shocked.” “Having someone like that in a company… it’s definitely an eye-opener.” The intern shrugged dryly. “You’ll get used to it. He never actually does anything. We just grin and bear it, hoping he’ll win a game soon so he’ll go back to his cave.” I didn’t say anything else. Never actually does anything? Publicly humiliating employees, ruining the whole office vibe—that’s not “doing” anything? I watched Jake grumble back to the glass room, slap his headphones on, and the game noise cranked back up. I pulled out my phone, half-tempted to call my dad right then. But I paused, then put it away. Walking out now would let Chloe off way too easy. Dad sent me here to evaluate her skills. And right now, both her skills and her character had massive red flags. I wanted to see just how badly this company had gone off the rails under her watch. I smoothed out my shirt and headed to the front desk. “Hi, I’m Liam Miller, assigned by Corporate to do a project review.” “Can you set me up with a temporary workstation? Somewhere quiet, preferably.” “Also, this is an internal audit—I’d rather Chloe doesn’t know I’m here.” The receptionist nodded politely. I walked into the office floor, found a corner spot, and my eyes landed on the glass room. Jake was already back to gaming, flailing his arms around, totally clueless about the new person in the office.

Chloe wasn’t in the office that morning. Jake must’ve lost a few more games. He strolled out of the glass room, face stormy as a thundercloud. He roamed the office, obviously looking for someone to pick on. He eventually wandered into design, stopping behind a designer and glaring at her screen. “What the hell is this crap? That color scheme’s hideous—looks like dog barf.” The designer, a young woman named Maya, turned bright red, eyes welling up. She bit her lip, too scared to talk back. Then he headed to operations, snatching a freshly printed event proposal off a desk. He flipped through a couple pages, scoffed, and smirked. “Who wrote this crap? A kindergartner? I could run a better guild war in my game.” With that, he flicked the papers back onto the desk, scattering them all over the floor. The operations manager, Ms. Reed, scurried to grab them, hands shaking. Jake kept strolling, making his way to the server room door. He must’ve felt hot, so he grabbed the thermostat on the wall and started mashing buttons. “This AC sucks—it’s not cooling worth a damn.” He hit some random button, and the panel started blaring an alarm. David, the tech lead, bolted out of his office, face turning white when he saw what was going on. “Don’t touch that! That’s the server room’s climate control!” But it was already too late. With a click, the whole office’s AC cut out. A few seconds later, a shrill overheat alarm started blaring from the server room. David ignored Jake and sprinted into the server room. The office temp shot up fast, making everyone swelter. Jake stood in front of the AC panel, scratching his head. “What a piece of crap—breaks just from pressing a button. Why’s all your equipment so cheap?” The guts on this guy—to blame everyone else—was unreal. Mr. Jenkins, the office manager, hurried over too. He glanced at the blaring server alarm, then at Jake. He immediately put on a kiss-up smile. “Didn’t scare you too bad, did it sir? This panel’s always been glitchy—should’ve had it fixed sooner.” “Ain’t your fault—swear! I’ll call someone to fix this right away!” “Why don’t you head back to your room and relax? We’ll handle this.” Jake grunted, still looking put-out, but stomped back to his glass room. Only then did Mr. Jenkins wipe the sweat off his brow and start directing the tech team’s emergency repairs. As he walked by, I called out. “Mr. Jenkins—does this happen often?” Mr. Jenkins glanced at me, recognized the corporate badge, and his face twisted bitterly. He tugged me into the fire escape stairwell and lowered his voice. “You’re the auditor, right? I shouldn’t say this… but today’s incident? It’s nothing.” He sighed heavily. “Truth is—he’s Chloe’s husband. We can’t do a damn thing.” “Chloe’s out at a meeting today—so no one’s here to rein him in.” “On good days, she keeps him locked in that room…” His face crumbled with helplessness. “Last month, he lost a game and trashed his keyboard. Pieces flew everywhere—took out three monitors.” “We tried to replace them, but Chloe said we were negligent—didn’t protect company property. Tanked our whole department’s quarterly review.” “Said it was a ‘learning experience.’” My stomach dropped. This was Chloe’s management style. Letting a deadbeat run wild while making hardworking employees clean up his mess. Chloe… unbelievable. Just then, the glass room door flew open. Jake stuck his head out yelling. “It’s freaking hot! AC fixed yet? My computer’s gonna overheat! And I need more game credits—who’s gonna buy me cards?” No one answered. The office went dead silent—only the server alarm cutting through the air.

The AC barely kicked back on when Dad called. He asked me to grab core data from marketing. Said the board needed it for their afternoon meeting—insisted I handle it personally, no mistakes. I grabbed a USB, copied the files from the marketing director, and headed to the copy room. I’d just finished stapling the reports when the door swung open. Jake strolled in, sipping coffee. His eyes lit up when he saw the shredder humming next to the printer. “Why’s this thing so loud? Ruining my game.” He reached for the stop button. I instinctively pulled the freshly printed reports aside—the shredder was too close, and I didn’t trust him not to knock them in. Jake’s hand hit air, and he stumbled forward. Coffee went flying. The scalding brown liquid arced through the air—landing directly on my freshly printed confidential reports. The thick stack of A4s soaked up the coffee instantly, ink smearing into an unreadable mess. I stared at the ruined documents, my calm facade cracking. I looked up, eyes locking on Jake. He didn’t look remorseful—just annoyed I’d moved the papers and made him miss the button. My voice turned to ice. “You gonna fix this?” Jake had probably never been talked to like that by an employee. He froze. Then his face turned red with anger. “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?” “You know who I am?” He puffed out his chest, looking indignant. “I’m Chloe Miller’s husband!” I stared at him, feeling numb—almost amused. “Oh?” “So Chloe Miller’s husband gets to ruin company documents? Disrupt work because his game got interrupted?” My words clearly rattled him. He blew a gasket, pointing his finger at my face. “Damn right I can!” “Chloe owns this company—so I own it! I can do whatever I want!” His voice screeched—like nails on a chalkboard. “Who the hell do you think you are? Some new hire lecturing me?” Coworkers gathered at the commotion. They saw the mess and held their breath. A couple of admin ladies tugged my sleeve, urging me silently to apologize. I stood my ground. Just stared at him. Jake hated losing face in front of the team. He pulled out his phone, smirking coldly. “Tough guy, huh? Think you can push me around?” “I’ll call Chloe—she’ll remind you who’s boss here.” He fired up FaceTime. It rang once and connected. He held the phone up, waiting for Chloe to rescue him.

Jake’s face did a complete 180 the second Chloe appeared. He turned to the camera, voice quivering with fake hurt. “Chloe! This guy’s bullying me!” “I tried to turn off that loud shredder, and this new guy attacked me!” “He spilled his own coffee on his papers and blamed *me*! Yelled at me!” He twisted the story so hard, acting like the biggest victim ever. Chloe’s soft, soothing voice came through the phone. “Calm down,baby. I’m here. No one’s gonna hurt you. I’ll fix this.” I could see she was in a fancy boardroom—company logo blazoned behind her. Probably at that international summit—make-or-break for the company’s future. And she paused it—for his stupid tantrum. “Be a good boy, honey. Hand him the phone.” Her voice dropped to subzero. She addressed the crowd behind Jake—ice in every syllable. “Who hurt my Jake?” “Give them the phone. I’ll handle this myself. Let’s see who’s got balls big enough.” Jake’s grin could’ve split his face. He thrust the phone at me—chin high, eyes glinting with glee. I took it calmly. My face filled the screen. Chloe saw me—and her face blanched. Panic flashed in her eyes. “Liam?! What are you doing there?!” Her brows knit—like I was the worst inconvenience. “Don’t do this! I’ll explain when I’m back—please!” I stared at her face—the one I used to dream about. Now she just looked ridiculous. My cold silence made her voice sharpen—edging on threats. “Don’t be petty, Liam! This meeting’s critical—the company’s future’s on the line!” Blamed me for being “petty.” Her stupidity made me laugh—bitterly. I spoke into the camera—voice like steel. “Perfect, Chloe.” “I’ve seen all I need to see—about your leadership, your judgment.” Before she could process it, I flipped the phone back to Jake—who fumbled to catch it. I pulled out my phone and called Dad. It rang once. My voice stayed calm—but it cut through the entire copy room. “Dad, assessment’s done.” “Tell Chloe Miller to get back here—with divorce papers.”

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My father ordered my older sister, Valerie, and me to choose our fiancés from the Thorne family’s twin brothers. In my previous life, Valerie chose the healthier younger brother, Brandon Thorne, leaving me with the disabled, quiet, and introverted Julian Thorne. I didn’t want him to die in the future, so I accepted my fate. He walked with a limp, so I took him to top specialists nationwide. He couldn’t protect me, so I learned self-defense to get strong, begging my father not to send him away. I thought he was just physically disabled and emotionally withdrawn. I believed if I was patient enough, he’d eventually open up to me. Until the day the mansion caught fire, with thick smoke billowing everywhere. He spoke to me for the first time, his voice clear and icy: “I’m sorry, but Valerie is still inside.” He let go of me, turning and rushing back into the flames. I was trapped under a fallen beam, watching his retreating back as he jumped from the second-story window carrying Valerie. The last thing I heard was his hoarse voice: “I failed you in this life. I promise to make it right in the next.” I realized then that his disability and silence had been only for me. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day we chose our fiancés. This time, I’d choose the ruthless man who controlled half the city’s underworld.

I stood in front of the two men, frozen. Valerie glanced at me, pursing her lips. “Forget it, I’ll choose Julian Thorne. Sera isn’t feeling well—she should pick a strong fiancé to protect her.” With that, she moved from Brandon Thorne’s side to Julian Thorne’s. Brandon Thorne, impeccably dressed in his suit, tensed visibly, his fists clenching slightly. I stood frozen, processing the shock of being reborn. In my past life, I’d also hesitated after Brandon and Valerie chose each other. Seeing my indecision, Valerie suggested we swap fiancés. Looking at Valerie’s face—so perfectly innocent and wounded—I genuinely believed back then that she wanted to give Brandon to me. I was naive, thinking she cared about me, so I flat-out refused. I didn’t want Valerie to miss out, and I couldn’t bear to see “disabled” Julian get sent back and scorned by the family. Until the mansion fire, when Valerie’s fiancé Brandon had already reached her. But Julian Thorne still rushed in to save Valerie first. Valerie clung tightly to Julian Thorne’s neck, yet she was murmuring, “Put me down.” She was always like that—knowing she wouldn’t truly lose anything, yet always managing to come off as sweet and kind. But this time, I nodded. “Okay.” Valerie, who’d been expecting me to refuse, froze. She wasn’t the only one shocked—Julian Thorne looked at me too. His deep-set eyes held a mix of confusion and surprise. “Absolutely not!” my father cut in. “You’re the eldest daughter of the O’Connell family—your safety comes first. Julian Thorne has a leg injury and barely speaks; he’s not fit to be your fiancé.” I smiled. So my father had known about Julian Thorne’s condition all along. Yet he still brought him here. It seemed letting Valerie and me choose was just a formality. “But…” Valerie secretly let out a relieved breath, dabbing the corner of her eye, about to speak. But then Julian Thorne spoke up, his voice low but perfectly clear: “My leg works fine.” I looked up, shocked. The man who hadn’t walked normally in seven years in my past life—the one supposedly with a severe leg injury—was standing perfectly straight now? Meeting the knowing depth in his eyes, I finally realized. He’d been reborn too. Typical. All that talk about making it right in the next life… but when he actually got a second chance, he was still scared to be my fiancé again. But he had no idea I didn’t want him anymore. “As for protection,” Julian Thorne continued, “Mr. O’Connell can reassess.” I didn’t doubt Julian Thorne’s abilities. After I died, my spirit had watched him jump from the second floor of the burning building to save Valerie, using his body to shield her as they landed—his back badly burned. The irony of it all. In my past life, I’d learned self-defense, terrified my father would send away this “broken, defenseless” fiancé. Sure enough, once Julian Thorne dropped the act, he easily took down the top bodyguards sent to test him. My father started to waver. The wounded innocence vanished from Valerie’s face. Between the two, Julian Thorne was undeniably more handsome. If not for his supposed disability, Valerie would’ve picked him from the start. “Very well, then Julian Thorne will be betrothed to you. Brandon Thorne, you’ll be responsible for protecting Sera O’Connell.” At my father’s decision, Brandon Thorne glanced my way. When he saw the scar on my face, his brow furrowed noticeably. He stepped forward. “Mr. O’Connell, I must respectfully decline this arrangement.”

“What is the meaning of this?” My father scowled. “The Thorne-O’Connell alliance was settled long ago. Are you really going to break our agreement?” Brandon Thorne couldn’t hide his disgust for my appearance. “Brandon Thorne… isn’t worthy of the youngest miss.” I sighed. Ever since I got this scar at ten years old saving Valerie, this face has been a constant source of contempt. Maybe Julian Thorne’s behavior in my past life was because of this too. “Brandon Thorne! Are you abandoning Sera O’Connell?” Valerie grabbed his arm anxiously. Brandon Thorne looked at her, his eyes filled with affection. “I never came here for her.” I said nothing. Valerie quickly hid the brief flash of joy in her eyes, replacing it with a fake frown of anger. “No! That’s not how this works! The engagement has to stand!” “Simple solution,” I said. “Valerie can just take both of them, can’t she?” Valerie’s face flushed. “You… what are you talking about?” Both men were devastatingly handsome—from the moment they walked in, Valerie hadn’t taken her eyes off them. My father looked contemplative. “You truly don’t want either of them?” “No, I have no interest in either of these men.” Both men turned to look at me at once. They seemed to be wondering what gave me the right to say such a thing. Julian Thorne’s gaze was more complicated—his pupils narrowing, as if his confusion went beyond just my words. I couldn’t read him, and I didn’t care to try. “Then can you guarantee your own safety?” I looked up, meeting my father’s gaze with calm resolve. “I can. Not only can I protect myself, but I can also become an asset to this family.” My father paused, clearly taken aback. “Your brother’s been struggling to secure that territory, hasn’t he? Let’s see what you can do.”

In my past life, all my focus had been on Julian Thorne. I’d even overlooked the true foundation of our family’s power: territory and influence. Valerie and I were different. Though my father claimed to treat us equally, the family’s most profitable territories and businesses always went straight to Valerie and my brother. My brother expanded our territory and solidified our reputation, with his businesses and income growing year after year. Valerie, just collecting her annual share of profits, earned enough to last several lifetimes. Meanwhile, I’d had to beg my father just to cover Julian Thorne’s medical bills. If I wanted to raise my status, I had to get my hands dirty—fight for it, take it for myself. My brother, who barely acknowledged his less-favored sister, didn’t even bother meeting with me. He just tossed me a run-down operation in some backwater district, told me to “figure it out myself,” and never asked about it again. I wasn’t angry. I took it over quietly, starting with restructuring—weeding out the disloyal and those colluding with outsiders. Step by step, I reclaimed territory that small gangs had taken over and reestablished order. In my past life, I never got to handle things like this. Now, doing it, I surprised myself with how naturally I handled street politics, balanced competing interests, and even outmaneuvered stronger opponents. After single-handedly taking down a troublesome rival gang from the next district—making them agree to pay protection fees and hand over two key intersections—my brother actually agreed to a formal meeting, which surprised everyone. He threw me a belated welcome party, three months late. He even handed over management of another chaotic waterfront area that connected to major smuggling routes. The family’s recent expansion had hit a wall, with several tough problems stalling progress. We needed someone to break the deadlock badly. Even though he favored Valerie, my proven skills and value meant he had to take me seriously. Slowly, my reputation in our circles even started to overshadow Valerie’s famous beauty. One day when I got home, Valerie stopped me. “Sera O’Connell, don’t you think you’re showing off too much?” I frowned. “You’re meddling in violent conflicts everywhere, putting yourself around ruthless thugs way too often. I’m not trying to put you down, but your success in such a short time is just luck—and those goons being idiots.” “What if you mess up later and provoke the wrong people? It would bring shame to the O’Connell name and could get us all in trouble.” “Besides, you already have that scar on your face. If you keep acting so tough, fighting men over territory, no guy will ever want you.” She then subtly glanced at Julian Thorne. I cut to the chase. “Are you afraid I’ll steal your thunder, Valerie? Or that I’ll claim power and profits that used to go only to you and my brother?” She froze. “Valerie, who do you think you are to tell me not to show off? The family’s pampered princess who just sits back and collects checks?” “You’re a beneficiary here. What gives you the right to look down on me for fighting while you enjoy your comfortable little life?” “Sera O’Connell, you…” Her eyes instantly welled up. But I didn’t let up. “Since you brought up the scar on my face, let me ask you: Have you forgotten what you did to me when I was ten?” “I was trying to protect you from an enemy. If you hadn’t pushed me, Valerie, I never would’ve fallen onto their blade—and this face wouldn’t be ruined.” Valerie covered her mouth, tears spilling onto her hands. “Save the tears. I’m the one who suffered and bled, not you. Go back to being your pampered princess.” I turned to leave. But she suddenly lunged forward, upset, trying to grab me to explain. The second our arms touched, her foot slipped, and she fell backward—tumbling down the winding staircase!

“Ah—!” A bloodcurdling scream echoed through the grand hall. Everything happened in a split second. Before I could react, I watched her tumble awkwardly to the stair landing, her arm sliced by shards of a broken vase—blood gushing instantly. Brandon Thorne and Julian Thorne came rushing over like lightning. “Valerie!” Brandon Thorne’s eyes widened in rage as he swept her into his arms. Julian Thorne quickly examined her wound, his movements surprisingly gentle yet urgent. He looked up at me, still standing on the stairs, his eyes full of shock and icy accusation. “Sera… I just wanted to hold you, to apologize… Why… why did you push me?” Valerie’s face was ashen, tears mixing with cold sweat, her voice weak and overwhelmed by incredible grievance. “I didn’t push her! She fell on her own!” I immediately shot back, but my heart sank. This scene was all too familiar—she’d used similar tricks to frame people in my past life. “We all saw it! Sera, you said those terrible things to Valerie, and she still tried to stop you and apologize—but you were so cruel to her!” Brandon Thorne held Valerie, his bloodshot eyes glaring at me like I was the most evil person on earth. Julian Thorne silently bandaged Valerie, but his silence was colder than any accusation. He believed her. “No, Brandon, Julian… don’t blame Sera…” Valerie leaned weakly in Brandon’s arms, her voice barely a whisper. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have made Sera angry… She didn’t mean it…” That performance sealed my “guilt.” My father rushed in at the commotion, only to find this scene: his oldest daughter covered in blood, weak and crying; both fiancés glaring at me; and me, standing on the stairs, “coldly” watching it all unfold. “Father, it’s not Sera’s fault—it was my own carelessness…” Valerie was still “kindly” trying to “excuse” me. My father’s face turned ashen. Finally, he waved a tired, disappointed hand. “Sera, you’ve disappointed me deeply! Go to West Hill Estate and stay there. You’re not to return without my permission!” West Hill Estate was a remote, dilapidated mansion the O’Connells used to punish wayward family members. Brandon Thorne carried Valerie off to the hospital. Julian Thorne, meanwhile, got stuck with “escorting” me to West Hill Estate. We didn’t say a word the whole drive. When we arrived at the eerily empty mansion, he finally spoke, his voice low: “You… should reflect here. Once Valerie’s injuries heal and she calms down, maybe…” “Maybe what?” I scoffed. “Maybe she’ll graciously forgive me? Julian Thorne, are you blind too?” He pressed his lips together, avoiding my gaze, and said nothing more. He turned and left, locking the heavy front gate behind him.

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I was out of town on a business trip when my mother-in-law, Carol, called me in the middle of the night. “Jake,” she said, her voice trembling, “Robert has a terminal illness. The doctors say the only chance he has is surgery and a course of specialized medication.” I knew the total costs would run into the millions. I spent the entire night mortgaging two apartments and withdrawing all my savings, planning to visit the hospital the next day. But I discovered all the money I’d managed to gather had been transferred out by my wife, Vanessa. “Brandon said the company needed some research funding,” she explained nonchalantly. “I gave him all of it.” I grilled her: “Do you even realize what that money was for? It was for your father’s medical treatment! He’s terminally ill!” Vanessa scoffed. “Jake, please. At least come up with a plausible lie. Robert is perfectly healthy—stop trying to jinx him.” I stared at the ended call, sitting on the couch in silence for a long time. The next morning, I called Mr. Miller, the company’s CFO, directly. “Can you check something for me? Has Brandon Chen submitted any recent requests for project development funding?” The reply came quickly: “Mr. Dawson, no. However, Mr. Davis did apply for $300,000 for team building last week, and it’s already been approved.” What kind of team building costs $300,000? I remembered the loud music from last night’s call, the suggestive cheers and laughter in the background. My heart sank lower and lower. I called Vanessa again. This time, it rang for ages before she finally answered. In the background, a soft piano melody played—a stark contrast to the previous night’s chaos. “What is it now?” Her voice held a faint edge of irritation. I tried to stay calm, enunciating each word clearly. “That five million dollars—you need to get it back today. There’s no new research project at the company, and your father…” “Jake Dawson, are you ever going to drop this?” Vanessa’s voice suddenly sharpened. “Brandon explained everything last night. It’s a confidential project for a new direction, so of course it wouldn’t show up in regular accounting. You just can’t stand seeing others succeed, can you?” I managed a bitter laugh, though inside I felt a crushing weight of sadness. “The finance department has no record of it. Call him right now and ask for a project plan—even just a draft. If he can provide one, I’ll drop this.” “Who do you think you are, investigating him like this? Interrogating him?” Vanessa shouted. “My father helped you start this company! Now Brandon’s helping me manage *my* legacy! You’re always traveling for work—do you even care if the company survives? I transferred the money, and I’ll take responsibility!” Her claim of being “responsible” sounded like a bad joke. It was true—Robert had provided the seed money to start the company. That’s why I was willing to mortgage everything to save his life. Yet there it was, that money—only to be transferred to a stranger by his own daughter. “Go to the hospital yourself. I’ll text you the address…” Before I could finish, Vanessa scoffed. “Please. I know Robert’s health better than anyone. Brandon said we’ll see initial results in a few days. Then you’ll eat your words about him being a liar.” The call went dead again. I held my phone, staring at the screen where she was saved as “Wife.” For the first time, I felt a strange sense of alienation. I went to the hospital, looked at Robert lying in the bed, and told them the truth. Robert sighed repeatedly, saying nothing. Carol was livid. “That ungrateful girl! We raised her so well, and now her father is dying, and she doesn’t even care? She gave all that life-saving money to a stranger? I need to call her right now and set her straight!” That’s exactly why I’d brought them together—to let them explain directly. As soon as the call went through, Vanessa started complaining. “Mom, I’m in the middle of something. Can this wait until I’m free?” Carol didn’t get a word in before Vanessa hung up.

Carol froze, stunned. She hit redial. This time, it rang forever before finally connecting. “Mom, I told you I’m busy! I’m in the middle of an important business deal!” Vanessa’s voice dripped with irritation. “What’s so urgent it can’t wait? Both of you, blowing up my phone!” Carol couldn’t contain her anger as she confronted her daughter. “Wait until you’re finished? Does your father have to die before you’ll make time for us?!” The line went silent for a few seconds before Vanessa responded. “What are you talking about? Did Jake go running to you again?” “Yes, Jake is right here with me.” Carol looked at her husband’s gaunt face, her voice shaking. “He told us everything, Vanessa. Your father…” “Mom,” Vanessa cut her off sharply. “Let me guess—you’re going to tell me Robert’s deathly ill in the hospital, needs a fortune for treatment, and somehow I’m the one who took that exact amount?” Her words came slowly, each one dripping with sarcasm. Carol had initially doubted my story. But seeing her daughter’s reaction, her heart turned to ice. “What are you talking about? It’s true! Robert is really sick!” Vanessa wasn’t buying it. “I thought Jake was just being petty, making up lies to get his money back. I never thought you’d team up with him to scam me. Mom, when did you become so greedy?” I stood there watching Carol’s face turn bright red. Seeing her helpless frustration, I felt nothing but despair. “That money’s seed funding for company research. Brandon’s a professional—I’ve seen his plans and projections. If this works, the company could be worth millions more! Robert gets annual physicals and he’s perfectly healthy! Stop using him to manipulate me—it won’t work!” Cough… cough, cough, cough… In the hospital bed, silent Robert suddenly erupted into a coughing fit, blood spotting his lips. He stared at his wife’s phone, eyes filled with despair . “Robert?!” Carol rushed to his side in a panic. “Doctor! We need a doctor!” The blood on the sheets terrified Carol. That’s when I learned the full severity of Robert’s condition. The doctor said it was advanced stage. To survive, he needed surgery and long-term specialty medications—costs that would bankrupt most families. The call was still connected, and Vanessa heard the commotion. Just as she started to ask what was happening, Brandon’s voice came on the line. “Vanessa, this is Mr. Stevenson.” She hesitated, then ultimately took Brandon’s side. Robert’s condition deteriorated—his daughter’s words had exacerbated his illness. It took over an hour of treatment to stabilize him, and now he was in the ICU. Naturally, the medical bills would skyrocket. Carol paced outside the room, frantic, calling her daughter repeatedly, but the calls went straight to voicemail. To save Robert, I made a painful decision: “I’ll sell the company. It should net around twenty million. That should cover the ongoing expenses.” Even though Vanessa had made me look like a fool, a human life was on the line. Besides, I was an orphan—ever since I married Vanessa, Robert and Carol had treated me like their own son. Carol hesitated. “But that’s your life’s work, Jake… can you really walk away from it?” “Better than standing here helpless.”

I returned home and immediately started gathering all the company documents. As I did, I couldn’t help but feel the irony. From Robert’s initial million-dollar investment to me fighting for every project, growing it to what it was today—only I knew the blood, sweat, and tears that went into building this company. Now, to save a life, I had to sell it all off just like that. The next day, I contacted several potential buyers through a broker. The process moved faster than expected—probably because the company was solid, with a clean record and stable revenue stream. I finally negotiated an $18 million deal. It was less than I hoped for, but they could pay cash upfront. I rushed back to the hospital to tell Carol the news. “I found a buyer. We’ll sign the contract tomorrow. The process might take a few days, but the money will come through quickly.” I tried to keep my voice steady. Carol looked at the closed ICU door, then at me. Tears silently fell. “Jake… I’m so sorry… you worked so hard to build this company…” I cut her off. “It’s okay, Mom. Companies can be rebuilt. A life lost is gone forever. Let’s focus on getting Robert better first.” She squeezed my hand, nodding gratefully. The next afternoon, I met at a law firm to sign the letter of intent. The buyer’s representative, Mr. Harris, and their attorney, Ms. Rodriguez, were there. My friend Michael, also a lawyer, came to oversee things for me. The initial discussions went smoothly, and all documents seemed in order. Just as we were about to sign, Ms. Rodriguez took a call. After listening, her expression shifted. She stepped aside to confer quietly with Mr. Harris, who immediately frowned. Michael noticed too and leaned over. “Jake, something’s wrong.” At that moment, Ms. Rodriguez approached. “Mr. Dawson, I apologize, but we’ll need to pause this process. I just received a call and faxed document stating that the ownership of Titan Innovations was transferred three days ago. The current legal representative and sole shareholder is Brandon Chen.” I froze when she finished speaking. “As the sole shareholder and legal representative, there’s no way this transfer could have happened without my signature!” Ms. Rodriguez showed me the fax on her phone. “The records we received indicate this. The transfer is listed as a gift from Vanessa Lin.” Vanessa Lin? I stared at the document. Sure enough, my name had been brazenly replaced with Brandon Chen’s in the legal representative field. The shareholder information showed the same. The conference room door burst open. Vanessa strode in wearing high heels, posture elegant, face cold with disdain. “Well, well. Quite the party.” She let out a mocking laugh as she approached the table. “I was wondering where those company documents went. Were you planning to sell *my* company behind my back?” I wasn’t angry—just frowned. “Do you realize what you’re doing? This is Robert’s life-saving money!” Vanessa’s voice turned shrill. “Jake Dawson, I seriously underestimated you. You used my parents for money, and now you’re trying to sell the company out from under me? Good thing Brandon had the foresight to predict your desperation. I transferred ownership to him for safekeeping. At least he’ll manage it properly—better than leaving it with someone who just wants to bleed my family dry!” Brandon stood beside her, eyes glowing with triumph. He sighed dramatically. “Jake, I don’t mean to lecture you. You and Vanessa are married—you should’ve talked this through. Trying to sell the company behind her back… that’s pretty low, even for you.” Honestly, my patience for this nonsense had run out. Looking at this woman, so smug in her ignorance, I felt genuine disgust for the first time. “Low? Using them?” I repeated, voice quiet and dangerous. I stood abruptly, grabbed Vanessa’s wrist, and headed for the door. “What do you think you’re doing?!” “Let go!!!” Vanessa shrieked, struggling violently. I shot back, “You don’t believe me? Fine. We’re going to the hospital—right now. You’ll see for yourself in the ICU if Robert’s faking this.”

Brandon rushed forward and shoved my shoulder. I blocked him with my arm. “This is family business. Stay out of it.” Security guards burst in and separated us. Brandon had only a small cut on his lip, but I was tripped—my lower back slamming into the corner of the conference table. The pain made my vision black out, and I couldn’t stand. Vanessa grabbed an ashtray from the table and threw it at me. It hit my head, and blood poured down my face. But she ran straight to Brandon, looking completely concerned. “Brandon, does it hurt? Are you okay?” Her voice was soft and worried—nothing like the way she’d treated me when I was sick. Brandon shook his head. “I’m fine. It’s just Mr. Dawson…” He glanced at me, trailing off. Vanessa finally looked at me, her expression turning to rage. “Jake Dawson, have you lost your mind?! Assaulting someone in public? Look at you! You’re acting like a thug! This is illegal! Apologize to Brandon right now!” Blood dripped from my forehead into my eyes. I wiped it away with my sleeve, clearing my vision. I forced a bitter smile. In my thirty-something years, had I ever seen anything this absurd? “Apologize? To him?” I looked at Brandon, who was smirking triumphantly. “Yes! Now!” Vanessa insisted, like it was the most reasonable thing in the world. I ignored her, bent down to gather the scattered documents. “Michael, handle this.” I limped toward the door. “You can’t just leave! We’re not done here!” “Jake Dawson, get back here!” Vanessa tried to block my path. I kept walking, didn’t look back. Done? What was there to finish? Robert was still in the ICU waiting for treatment. With the company gone, I needed another plan. I took a deep breath, pushing down my emotions. I called old friends who owed me favors—didn’t go into details. Scraping together everything I could, I borrowed over a million. Surgery first, I thought. We’d figure out the medication and other costs later. I grabbed the money and rushed to the hospital. My phone rang on the way—it was Carol. I answered immediately. “Mom, I got some money. I’m on my way now.” “It’s too late…” Carol’s voice was unnaturally calm. “Robert… he’s gone.” “What? Mom, slow down. What happened? This morning the doctors said he was stable.” Carol’s composure broke. Her voice cracked with despair. “He pulled out his tubes… the monitors went crazy… by the time they found him…” I froze. I never thought Robert would do something like that. The next few days were a blur of funeral arrangements. I asked Carol if she wanted to tell Vanessa. She shook her head, face cold. “I don’t have that daughter anymore. I never want to see her again.”

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On the day of the SAT exam, my fiancé Julian suddenly went ballistic. He pulled out a handgun and blew up every single computer in the testing center. The reason? His sister, Willow, had been caught cheating during the SATs, and her score was invalidated. Even the backup servers failed, canceling everyone’s scores for that entire section. Julian faced severe criminal charges because of it. To save him, I arranged for everyone in our class to study abroad, covering all their tuition and living expenses. Later, he and I successfully got into a world-renowned university. But then, his sister Willow was caught cheating again during another exam. Her cheating scandal went viral online, and consumed by the cyberbullying, she fell into depression and jumped from a building, taking her own life. Julian locked himself away for days. When he finally emerged, he looked at me and said he’d figured it out. “This was her destiny.” But then, on the day we were supposed to fly overseas, Julian drugged me and pushed me out of our private plane. “You were jealous of her since you were a child, always trying to put her down.” “Her depression? You drove her to it.” “If you hadn’t falsely accused her of cheating, how would she have died?” I opened my eyes again. And I was back on the day of the SAT exam. Julian wants to go crazy? Fine. Let him. This time, no one’s bailing him out.

Screams echoed through the testing center. When I opened my eyes, Julian had already pulled out his handgun and destroyed the last row of SAT computers. Several proctors and security guards rushed in, pinning him to the ground. As he was dragged away, Julian laughed maniacally: “If Willow can’t take the test, then none of you will!” Twenty minutes later, everyone from the testing center was escorted to the school’s main conference room. The school administration urgently reported the incident to higher-ups, hoping to use backup servers and test papers. While we waited for a resolution, everyone was cursing Julian. “Julian is a lunatic. Willow deserved to get caught cheating. What does that have to do with us?” “This whole section is gone. One SAT score can make or break our college applications. With no score, all our applications are ruined!” “If there’s no retake, I swear I’ll kill Julian and Willow.” “Shh, lower your voice. Scarlett’s here too.” The moment those words dropped, everyone glanced at me. Their expressions were complex, subtle. They all knew Julian did it for Willow. And they all knew Julian was my fiancé, Scarlett. I had always been sickly as a child, repeatedly hospitalized, but doctors could never find a cause. My father was incredibly worried, constantly searching for someone reliable, someone who could look after me from a young age. So, he chose Julian from the welfare system–exceptionally intelligent, incredibly handsome–and groomed him from childhood to be my fiancé. Willow, on the other hand, was the daughter of the maid who later came to work at our house. After Julian met Willow, he changed. He treated Willow like his own sister. But he was my fiancé. Yet he showered her with endless affection. When I brought it up, he’d sneer: “How could someone like you, a rich girl, ever understand what it’s like for Willow and me, living under someone else’s roof?” “I treat her like a sister. We just… understand each other’s struggles, that’s all. Don’t twist it into something sordid.” In my previous life, I believed him. I thought my privileged background made him feel pressured, so I always went out of my way to accommodate them. Over the years, Julian caused endless trouble at school. And every single time, I was the one who cleaned up his mess. But this time, I wasn’t going to. I lowered my head and opened my phone, preparing to message Mr. Davies, telling him to stop handling Julian’s affairs. Just then, the conference room door swung open. The entire room fell silent instantly, all eyes turning to the entrance. Julian walked in, swaggering, hand-in-hand with Willow. Seeing them, everyone’s anger flared. “Julian, how dare you show your face here? Look what you’ve done to us!” “Shouldn’t you be detained? How are you even here?” Julian just smiled dismissively. “Of course I’m here for the exam. The police have cleared everything up. Willow and I are completely fine.” With that, he led Willow directly to the seats beside me and sat down. No one believed the matter could be resolved so easily. But when their eyes fell on me, everyone quieted down again. After all, two-thirds of the students’ parents in this city worked for my family’s corporation. They were angry with Julian but dared not speak out. Julian sat down, not even glancing at me. He was too busy asking Willow if she was feeling better. “I was so scared, my hands are still shaking.” Willow’s eyes were slightly red as she extended a trembling hand. Julian took it publicly, comforting her softly. “It’s okay now. After the SATs, I’ll take you to the Maldives to relax, and you can forget all these unhappy things.” Only then did he bother to look at me. His tone was harsh, like he was ordering a servant. “Scarlett, did you hear me? You’re responsible for making this happen.” I ignored him. Lowering my head, I continued looking at my phone. But then, a message from Mr. Davies popped up: [Mr. Julian and Ms. Willow’s matter has been resolved.]

Seeing that message, I paused. Julian had contacted Mr. Davies directly, making decisions without consulting me. In my previous life, it was also Mr. Davies who bailed Julian out. But I was the one who called Mr. Davies then, and I certainly didn’t bother with Willow’s affairs. Had Julian also been reborn? Regardless of whether Julian had been reborn or not, I wouldn’t allow him to misuse my family’s name for his nefarious schemes again. I sent a message to Mr. Davies, instructing him not to entertain any of Julian’s requests without my explicit approval. At the same time, I messaged several people, one by one, stopping Julian’s credit cards and informing everyone around me that I was no longer responsible for him. The replies came quickly. Some said “Okay.” Others were surprised. My old housekeeper, Mr. Peterson, replied with immense relief: [Ms. Scarlett, you should have stopped covering for that scoundrel ages ago.] I touched my nose, feeling a bit scolded. While Julian was still discussing what dresses Willow should wear to the Maldives, the door was pushed open. The school principal walked in, looking grim, and addressed everyone. “All the backup servers have malfunctioned. There’s no way to retake this section, and everyone’s scores will be canceled.” The conference room was silent for a few seconds. Then, a wave of despair, screams, and crying erupted. The SAT testing center supervisors also looked troubled. With so many students missing a section score, they definitely wouldn’t get into their dream universities. All their hard work, ruined. Soon, everyone’s attention shifted to Julian. At this point, no one cared about his identity anymore. Several tall boys surrounded us, cursing at him and Willow. “Julian, you’ve completely messed up so many people’s lives!” “Willow, you got caught cheating, that’s on you, but why drag all of us down with you?” Some even turned their anger on me: “You’re no better! Julian has been using your name to bully students at school, and you just enabled him, never doing anything about it. You three are all trash!” They were just teenagers, unable to control their tempers. Their shouting escalated, and then hands started flying. Fortunately, I had taken Taekwondo before. After dodging a few punches, I couldn’t help but shout: “They’re the ones who messed up! What does this have to do with me? I’m a victim too!” But their voices were too loud, and my protests were swallowed by the shouts. I could only continue to protect myself. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Julian tightly shielding Willow behind him. Even though I was utterly disappointed in this man, my heart couldn’t help but feel a tiny prick. With school officials present, they couldn’t actually let these students beat Julian to death. The two sides were pulled apart. Julian, having taken a few punches, had blood at the corner of his mouth. He wiped the blood with the back of his hand and cursed, “You damn brutes, how dare you hit me? I’ll sue all of you! You’ll all end up in jail!” Someone in the crowd was furious. “Julian, are you even human? You’ve ruined the futures of so many people, and you can still say something like that!” “We’re not like you, backed by the Scarlett family. We’re ordinary people, and we all relied on the SATs to turn our lives around!” At this, many felt a deep resonance, and couldn’t help but start crying. Julian waved his hand, “Alright, stop crying. I’ll take responsibility for all of you.” One person glared at him, “Easy for you to say. Everyone’s SAT scores are ruined now. How are you going to take responsibility?” “Life isn’t just about the SATs,” Julian smirked. “Don’t you want to study abroad?”

Compared to the SATs, studying abroad was indeed a better and often simpler path. Everyone quieted down, waiting for Julian to continue. He stood on a chair and announced loudly. “As long as you don’t hold me accountable for ruining the SATs today, I’ll help all of you study abroad. I’ll cover all tuition and living expenses.” Hearing that familiar line, I was even more certain that Julian had also been reborn. Because in my previous life, I was the one who said those words. “If anyone prefers not to go abroad and wants to stay and retake the SATs, I’ll also provide appropriate compensation.” At this, no one had any objections. People stopped clenching their fists and instead came forward, fawning, asking if he was serious. Julian tilted his head back, “Of course it’s true. I never lie.” Everyone cheered. Yet not a single person noticed that I, Julian’s financial backer, hadn’t said a word. Not even Julian asked for my opinion. Perhaps in his mind, whatever he said, I would willingly agree. With the problem seemingly resolved, the school no longer detained anyone. The conference room doors opened wide, and Julian and Willow walked out front, as if they had won a great victory. However, as soon as they exited the school building, they were blocked by a crowd of parents. Naturally, these were the parents whose children’s SAT scores had been ruined. Julian was surrounded once again. The parents were even more agitated than the students, yelling insults that were exceptionally harsh. Julian looked annoyed. Seeing this, the students quickly stepped forward to explain for him, saying he had promised everyone a large sum in compensation. The parents naturally didn’t believe it. “He’s just a poor student. Where would he get the money to compensate so many people?” After all, the amount Julian promised added up to tens of millions of dollars. The students excitedly said, “He’s no ordinary student! He’s Julian, Scarlett’s fiancé! You know Scarlett, right? Her dad is super rich!” Hearing this, the parents’ expressions did soften somewhat. My dad genuinely had the means to cover these expenses, and he was famously devoted to his daughter. However, adults thought things through more than teenagers. They still surrounded Julian, blocking his way, saying that a verbal agreement was useless. “You say you’ll arrange for us to go abroad, but how can we believe you without a written agreement? What proof do we have?” Julian coldly swept his gaze over them, disdainfully saying, “You common folk are always so troublesome. It’s just a contract, isn’t it? I’ll call my lawyer to draft it right now.” His tone was arrogant, as if he’d forgotten he was once an ordinary person himself. He pulled out his phone and publicly called Mr. Davies. However, after several attempts, no one answered. Several parents’ faces fell. “See? I told you kids’ words can’t be trusted. Do you really have a lawyer? Why isn’t he answering your calls?” Julian put his phone away and looked at me, demanding, “Why isn’t Davies answering his phone?” I scoffed. “How should I know? Maybe he just doesn’t want to talk to you.” Julian didn’t understand my hidden meaning. He ordered me, “Fire him tomorrow. If he can’t be on call 24/7, then he’s not my lawyer.” I found it a bit amusing. I wanted to say, he’s not your lawyer to begin with. Before the sarcasm could escape, the parents angrily said: “Stop making excuses! No written contract, no leaving today!” Even if Julian had been reborn, he couldn’t handle the interrogation from these adults. “Fine, you just want money, don’t you? I’ll transfer you a deposit first, alright?” Julian took out his phone and spoke to the parent who had been shouting the loudest: “Come on, give me your bank account number. I’ll transfer you one hundred thousand dollars.” The parent happily took out their phone and rattled off their account number. Julian opened his SnapChat, entered the account number, and then the hundred-thousand-dollar amount. After clicking confirm, the screen displayed: [Insufficient Funds!] I couldn’t help but smile.

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My husband, Mark Vance, and his intern, Tiffany Bloom, were in the middle of a three-day sex challenge. I sent him the news: I was pregnant. The next second, Mark called me on FaceTime. On the screen, he and Tiffany were sitting on a sex swing in some kinky hotel room, handcuffs and whips dangling nearby. “Go get rid of it,” he said, his voice flat. “Tiffany would be so upset otherwise.” I calmly refused him. “No way.” Mark paused, then sneered. “Then divorce it is.” A wave of relief washed over me. “Good. I’ll get the divorce papers ready immediately!” My dream of becoming a single mom, on my own terms, was finally coming true. “Ashley Hayes, be reasonable. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” Mark snuffed out his cigarette. I shook my head. “I’m not making anything harder. I love this baby. I’m having it!” At my words, Tiffany, nestled in his arms, burst into louder sobs. Half out of spite, half as a blatant challenge to me, she hooked her arms around Mark’s neck and bit him hard. Mark didn’t spare me a single glance. He just pulled her in for a searing deep kiss. Knowing when I wasn’t wanted, I quietly ended the FaceTime call and called a cab to head home. As soon as I got in the car, Mark’s call came through again. His neck was dotted with fresh bite marks. “She got upset and bit me. Don’t worry, they’ll be gone before I come home.” Only then did I remember. Mark and I had an agreement. No matter how many women he was with, no matter how wild he got, he had to come home spotless. No traces. He had cheated so many times, so often that I’d forgotten when I stopped loving him. I immediately shook my head. “It doesn’t matter. We’re getting divorced anyway.” He stared at me, his lips pressed together, saying nothing. Then, Tiffany started to throw another tantrum. “You’re never going to get rid of the baby! Are you?! I’m never going to be intimate with you again!” Tiffany started punching Mark’s chest. Mark’s expression tightened. He immediately wrapped his arms around her and delivered his final ultimatum to me. “Ashley, I don’t want this baby.” “You don’t want it, but I do!” I quickly hung up. When I got out of the cab, the driver hesitated, then spoke. “Your husband is unbelievable! Aren’t you going to confront that woman?” I simply smiled. “I did! That’s how I lost my first baby.” The driver fell silent, unable to find another word. I’d never been loved by my parents. They showered all their affection on my cousin, barely giving me the time of day. So, I always yearned for someone, a blood relative, to love me unconditionally. I met Mark just a week before I was scheduled to visit a sperm bank. He was handsome, intelligent. Soon, I started wanting to have a child with him. I even fell in love. Later, I married Mark, just as I’d wanted. When I first discovered his infidelity, I, like any wife, was devastated, heartbroken, and hysterical. But he would always apologize, and then, behind my back, he’d continue his affairs. I looked down, gently stroking the life growing inside me. After the divorce, I would raise this child well.

I was drafting the divorce papers when Mark walked in, a bouquet of roses in his hands. Mark always brought me a gift when he came home. Sometimes it was cake, sometimes jewelry. He skillfully replaced the withered roses in the vase, his tone gentle. “Tomorrow, I’ll go with you to the clinic for the abortion.” Such a gentle voice, yet such chilling words. In the past, I would have cried and fought with him. But I didn’t love him anymore. I held up my laptop for him to see. “Here are the divorce papers. If there are no issues, I’ll print them.” Mark, still holding a dried rose, a slight smile playing on his lips, said, “Still throwing a fit, huh?” He sighed, then smoothly ran his hand through my long hair. “Ashley, I’m exhausted. Can we please not do this right now?” Three days and three nights with Tiffany in a kinky hotel, of course he was exhausted. “Mark, I’m serious.” But Mark pushed the laptop back, then ignored me, slumping onto the couch. “Ashley, could you whip up that protein shake for me? The one with all the boosters.” I ignored him. We were getting divorced; he still expected me to be his caretaker?! “If you’re okay with it, I’m heading to the print shop.” Mark suddenly jolted up from the couch. “You’re really going to divorce me?” I nodded without hesitation. He sat up on the couch, waving me over with a dismissive gesture, like I was his pet. “Bring it over. Let me see.” I handed it to him. He scanned it quickly. “Go print it.” Without a moment’s hesitation, I transferred the document to my phone, grabbed my jacket, and headed downstairs. As I closed the door, Mark leaned back on the couch, smiling at me, but the smile never reached his eyes. When I returned from the print shop, I found Mark and Tiffany roughhousing in the kitchen. “Careful! You’re hurting me!” Tiffany pouted, reaching out to pinch Mark’s face. He leaned down, cupped her waist, and kissed her. What a picture of pure domestic bliss, like something from a bad rom-com. Unfortunately, my opening the door broke the spell. Mark’s hand, which had been on Tiffany’s waist, dropped instantly. His eyes, however, remained tender. “You’re back.” Tiffany acted as if she hadn’t seen me, clutching his shirt and murmuring about not having enough kisses. Mark glanced at me. “Tiffany’s spoiled, Ashley. Don’t be mad.” In our three years of marriage, Tiffany had been his longest-running affair, the one he clearly doted on the most. I nodded, walking over with the divorce papers. “I’ve signed it. Once you sign, we can finalize the divorce on Monday.” Seeing Tiffany pouting and clinging to him, I added considerately, “I can move out today to give you two some space.” Tiffany’s eyes immediately lit up. “Oh, can I move in tonight then?!”

The day after I stopped loving him, I rented an apartment that I’d kept empty all these years. I couldn’t stand being in a place that carried Mark’s scent. “Just sign first. I’ll go pack my things.” I placed the document on the table and turned to get my suitcase from the balcony. “You don’t care about me at all!” Amidst Tiffany’s soft accusations, a warm body pressed against my back. Mark had one arm around me, the other reaching for my suitcase. “Ashley, are you still mad?” I felt a surge of nausea and instinctively tried to push him away. Mark only held me tighter. “You found out about the challenge, didn’t you? If you’re mad, once I’ve recovered, we can try an even bigger challenge…” “Don’t touch me!” I couldn’t help it. I stomped on his foot. As Mark winced in pain, I broke free from his embrace. As much as I used to crave his hugs, I now found them utterly repulsive. His arms had been wrapped around another woman just moments ago, and now he was holding me, whispering sweet nothings. A flicker of shock crossed Mark’s eyes. He maintained the pose of holding me. “Ashley, what will it take for you to stop being angry?” “If you don’t want to go tomorrow, we can pick another day, and I’ll go with you to get rid of the baby.” As he said this, his usual gentleness returned. But Mark’s gentleness was like a puddle of mud; anyone could step in it. I suppressed the urge to gag. “No need. Just sign the papers quickly. I’ll make space for you two.” The curve of Mark’s lips gradually straightened. “Ashley, I don’t want this baby.” “Stop acting out. I’m serious.” “So am I.” The darkness in Mark’s eyes deepened, his aura growing colder. Just as I thought he was about to explode, He simply curved his lips. “How about tomorrow? My friend’s having a birthday party. You don’t mind if I take Tiffany, do you?” Mark was smiling, but I felt no warmth from it. Whether he smiled or not was irrelevant to me now. I shook my head. “Whatever.” Mark turned without hesitation, striding over to sweep the crying girl into a princess carry. His voice was louder than usual, resonating through the house. “My little crybaby. I just said a few words to Ashley, and your eyes are all swollen. You’re only allowed to cry like that in bed from now on.” Tiffany choked back a sob and nodded. As they left, Tiffany spoke, seemingly casually. “Oh, are there roses here too?” “But they’re not as big as the ones you gave me, and not as red…” The rest of her words were swallowed by the closing door. I walked over, picked up the vase, flowers and all, and tossed them into the trash. Mark seemed to be deliberately provoking me, his Ins feed refreshed eighteen times that night. Every single post was sickeningly intimate shots with Tiffany. We were getting divorced anyway; there was no point in keeping him. I unfollowed him, then switched to my burner account to unfollow, only to find those eighteen posts were set to “visible only to me.” I’d made this burner account back when I still loved him, just to keep tabs on his shenanigans. Since I didn’t love him anymore, there was no need for it. I deactivated the burner account and started packing. By midnight, all my belongings had been moved to the rented apartment. For the first time, the air felt fresh, devoid of that foul, decaying stench, filled only with the scent of me and my baby. Lying on the unmade sofa, I slept soundly. Remembering I needed to ask him when he’d sign the divorce papers, I unblocked Mark and sent a message, only to get a red exclamation mark. I didn’t think much of it, quickly tidied up, and went to the supermarket for groceries. Even though I didn’t know if the baby was a boy or a girl, I couldn’t help but linger in the baby section. I picked out a few outfits, wondering if my child would like them. As I hesitated over a pink baby bottle, I heard a familiar voice. “The milk is over there! Don’t go that way…” It was Tiffany’s sickly sweet voice. Then Mark appeared, immediately rummaging through my shopping cart. “Ugh, Ashley, your taste is awful. Are you sure the baby will like these things?” “This outfit is for a five-month-old. The baby won’t even fit into it when it’s born, and you’re buying these already, right after getting pregnant?” “Ashley, do you… do you even like our baby?” Mark’s lips thinned, an expression I couldn’t decipher. I remembered that, from some unknown day, he had started looking at me like that often. Each time I asked what was wrong, Mark would open his mouth but say nothing for a long while. Then he started cheating. I put down the bottle and asked him, “Did you sign the agreement?” Mark scoffed. “Are you really that fond of this baby, or are you just still trying to get a rise out of me?” His expression was cold, completely unlike his usual gentle demeanor. He didn’t even bother to comfort Tiffany, who was now following him, red-eyed. I watched the woman publicly cling to Mark, demanding a kiss, and tugged at the corner of my mouth. “Does it matter?” “It’s either me and the baby, or just you.” Anyone who didn’t know him might think Mark was a deeply loving man. I stroked my belly. “Of course, it’s the baby.” A blood relative, someone who would love me for no reason. I had longed for it, for so long. Mark was, at best, a jerk I used to love. How could he compare to my child? Suddenly, Mark grabbed Tiffany by the waist. “She’s carrying my baby too, and I only want the child Tiffany gives me. Ashley, I don’t want the child you give me.” A flicker of shock crossed Tiffany’s eyes, quickly replaced by joy as she hugged him back, calling him ‘honey’. “Oh, don’t worry. This baby is for me. I would never ask you to take any responsibility for it,” I said. “Fine… just fine,” Mark ground out through clenched teeth. “Who knows if you’ll try to get child support from me!?” “I’m taking you to the clinic to get rid of it right now!”

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I went to pick up my drunk husband. The moment I pushed open the club door, I heard him complaining: “My wife reeks of grease and cooking smoke. Makes me want to puke.” His secretary cut him off with a flirty whine, “If you hate her so much, why don’t you just divorce her?” Marcus ran his hand along her thigh, eyes glazed over: “She’s just a free maid. How could she compare to you?” When he noticed me standing in the doorway, he froze. Then he stumbled over to me: “I was just messing around with my friends. Don’t take it seriously.” Whether it was a joke or not didn’t matter anymore. I’d received a job offer from another city. In seven days, I could finally dump this drunk of a husband. Marcus clearly relaxed when he saw I wasn’t angry. He waved awkwardly at the others: “My wife and I are heading home.” Barely suppressed laughter and gossip followed us out. “Claire used to be the Queen Bee at school. Can’t believe her body turned out like this.” Back home, Marcus woke up in a daze and leaned in to kiss me: “Happy birthday, honey. I really had too much to drink today. I was talking nonsense. I’m sorry.” I turned my head away. He followed, wrapping his arms around me from behind: “Are you really mad? I messed up. I won’t drink anymore.” “Let me make it up to you right now?” His hand slid down habitually. “Claire, we should have a baby.” I closed my eyes. “Marcus, I’m tired. I need some quiet.” He mumbled: “Fine, whatever you want.” Ten years as a housewife. Every day shopping for groceries, cooking, cleaning. Every friend who visited praised how warm and tidy our home was. My hands were covered in calluses from exhaustion. But in Marcus’s eyes, I was just a maid who slept with him. The next morning, Marcus shook me awake. “Amber is coming over today to discuss company business with me. She’s been having stomach issues lately, so make something light.” “If her stomach’s bothering her, why doesn’t she eat at her own place?” Marcus said matter-of-factly, “Just make two extra dishes. How hard can it be?” How hard can it be? I sat up and looked at this man I’d loved for ten years. His brows furrowed slightly, wearing that “why are you being so unreasonable” expression. “Fine,” I said. Then turned around and ordered a whole table of takeout. Not playing maid anymore. At the dinner table, Amber sat in the seat closest to Marcus, constantly serving him food. Talking about their work stories. “Marcus, do you remember? When we went to the beach, you helped me put on sunscreen. You were so clumsy.” Marcus tapped her nose playfully: “Don’t even mention it. I almost got beaten half to death by your parents that day when we got back. They wanted me to take responsibility for you.” Amber covered her mouth: “I was just young back then. You bad boy~” Then she looked at my stomach. “Claire, you have so much fat on your belly. Could use it as a flotation device.” Marcus frowned too: “Honey, you really should lose some weight.” I touched my stomach. There was a tiny life inside. “Marcus, I…” Before I could finish, an urgent voice cut me off. “Claire, Amber and I have work to discuss.” Before finishing his sentence, Marcus and Amber went into the study together. Instantly, a wave of nausea surged through me. I forced down the disgust and slowly walked to the study door. Soon, muffled panting came from behind the wall, mixed with Amber’s moaning. “Marcus, ah, me or your wife, who’s better?” Marcus grunted in response, “Of course it’s Amber. You’re so sexy! I love you the most.” So careful, so affectionate. Turns out Marcus at thirty could still go at it. After listening for a while, right when they were finishing up, I knocked on the study door. The sounds inside suddenly stopped. Marcus’s voice came out hoarse: “What is it, Claire?” “Looking for something.” The door opened. Marcus sat in his chair drenched in sweat, while Amber leaned against the desk, face flushed. “Is Amber okay?” I took a step forward. “Just feeling a bit off. I’ll take a shower and be fine. You do your thing, Claire.” She ran off. Marcus chased after her, “Amber’s not feeling well, I’ll go check on her.” I pulled out the ultrasound report from the drawer. If Marcus had really been discussing work, he would have seen it when he opened the drawer. I’d originally planned to tell Marcus this surprise, turn down the job offer, and settle down to prepare for the baby. Not anymore. Because the baby had already miscarried. And I was completely done with him! I tore the ultrasound report to shreds and tossed it in the trash. When I came out, I saw Amber wearing that silk nightgown I’d been too precious to wear myself.

The nightgown was last year’s birthday gift from Marcus. Water blue. He said it was like the ocean, that it suited me. When she saw me, she showed no embarrassment. Instead, she tilted her head, her tone innocent and sweet. “Claire, I was just looking for nightwear and accidentally went through your closet. Everything in there looks like old lady clothes.” “Marcus just got promoted to general manager. How can he take you anywhere dressed like that?” Hearing this, Marcus’s gaze swept over my faded home clothes. “She has zero sense of style. All day around the stove, all she can think about is housework.” My expression turned cold. Amber seemed frightened, her eyes reddening: “Those clothes were too dated. This was the only decent one.” Marcus stepped in front of her, reaching out to protect her. “Why are you arguing with a young girl?” “Which part of what I said was arguing?” Amber hid behind Marcus and said quietly: “I was just trying to protect this nightgown. One touch from those hands and it’ll snag.” Marcus nodded, “Honey, just let Amber have it. The calluses on your hands will ruin it anyway.” I laughed, “How about this—you can have the husband too?” After that day, Marcus seemed a bit guilty and tried to smooth things over. He bought me flowers, apologizing awkwardly. I didn’t accept the flowers or acknowledge his apology. I started going out frequently, to the library, staying all day. I was picking up those dusty professional books again. Physics, chemistry, bioengineering, cryptography. Complex formulas and theories had once been part of my life. Later, for so-called love and family, I’d sealed them away with my own hands. But now I could restart. Marcus flipped through the books I brought home, his face full of disbelief: “Why are you reading this gibberish? Claire, you’re a housewife. Have you lost your mind? Or are you just putting on a show for me?” He was convinced I was performing, trying to get his attention. I didn’t explain. Explaining would be like talking to a brick wall. Four more days, and I’d be gone. On Amber’s twenty-fifth birthday, Marcus threw her a birthday party at our house. “Isn’t Claire coming down to join us?” “I’m not feeling well.” I lowered my eyes. Marcus put his arm around her shoulder, laughing: “Claire’s been like this lately, don’t mind her. You’re the star today.” As I turned to go upstairs, I heard Amber’s sweet voice: “Marcus, you’re so good to Claire. You’re not even mad when she acts like this.” “She’s getting older, it’s normal for her temper to get weird.” Marcus answered carelessly. I put on my noise-canceling headphones and listened to academic lecture recordings. Better to prepare early so work wouldn’t be so hard to handle. Halfway through the party, I got terribly thirsty and went downstairs for water. At the stairway landing, Amber deliberately tilted her wine glass and bumped into me. Red wine splashed all over me and her dress too. “Ah, my dress!” Amber screamed, tears immediately welling up, “Claire! Why did you push me? This is the birthday gift Marcus gave me!” The commotion drew Marcus and the guests. Amber cried, face streaked with tears, pointing at the stain on her dress, then at me. Then she whispered in my ear: “Could it be that because you’re sagging and your husband won’t buy you body-hugging dresses like this, you’re jealous of me?”

Marcus looked at Amber’s tears, his face dark with anger. He didn’t even ask me a single question. He grabbed my wrist, gripping so hard it felt like he’d crush my bones. “Claire! That’s enough!” He roared, his eyes full of fury and disappointment. “I know you’re resentful, but what did Amber ever do to you?” “She’s innocent, just trying to get along with you. And you? Look what you’ve become!” “Spiteful, vicious. Weren’t you afraid you could’ve hurt Amber pushing her like that? Apologize! Apologize to Amber right now!” The guests whispered among themselves, their eyes full of contempt for me. “I heard last time she threw a fit for days just because Amber mentioned her sagging.” “Women, after thirty, they’re all like this. Sensitive and paranoid.” “Amber’s so young and beautiful, of course she’s jealous.” I used all my strength to pry his fingers off me, one by one. “Let. Go.” He froze, apparently not expecting me to fight back. “Marcus, this kind of stunt is eight hundred years old. Only you would fall for it.” Marcus turned red with rage. Amber made a show of trying to calm things: “Maybe Claire’s just in a bad mood. I’m fine. The dress can be washed…” “It’s a limited edition! It can’t be washed clean!” Marcus got even angrier. He yanked his hand away forcefully. I stumbled backward, my back hitting the wall. I slowly slid down to the floor, a sharp pain in my lower abdomen. When I woke up, I was in the hospital. Marcus’s eyes were bloodshot. “You were pregnant—why didn’t you tell me earlier!” I shook my head, “What would be the point? After I gave birth, would you just start making jokes about my breast milk, my stretch marks, my loose belly?” Marcus’s expression froze. “Why are you taking jokes so seriously?” “Jokes?” I looked at him, “Every time you said my body had gone to hell, that I couldn’t compare to younger women, that I was an old hag—those were all jokes?” “Last time I spoke without thinking!” He said urgently, “I was wrong, I apologize. Whatever exercise you want to do, I’ll support you. I’ll pay for the most expensive personal trainer, the most expensive beauty treatments, okay?” He reached out to touch my face. I turned away. He came closer, hugging me from behind: “Are you really that angry? I was wrong, I was wrong. I won’t drink anymore.” “Can I make it up to you properly now?” His hand slid down habitually. “Claire, we should have a baby.” I closed my eyes. “Marcus, I’m tired. I want some peace.” He muttered: “Fine, whatever.” Ten years as a housewife. Every day grocery shopping, cooking, cleaning. All our friends praised how warm and cozy our home was. Exhausted until my hands were covered in calluses. But in Marcus’s eyes, I was just a maid who slept with him. The next afternoon, Marcus came back, with Amber following behind him. “Claire, I’m sorry.” Her eyes were red and swollen, like she’d been crying for hours, “I hope you can forgive me.” Her attitude was impeccably sincere. Marcus said: “Amber felt so guilty she hasn’t eaten all day. She insisted on coming to see you. Claire, she’s apologized like this, just let it go.” I looked at the two of them, one handsome and wealthy, one young and beautiful, standing together like a poster for a romance series. And me, lying in a hospital bed, pale-faced, body out of shape, the picture of a bitter wife.

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