When Iris ran for student representative, even though I wasn’t running, my childhood friend Derek made everyone vote for me. But he wasn’t doing this because he liked me. He just wanted to get Iris’s attention. Once I even heard him joking with his friends, “You guys want to hook up with Luna? I can make the introduction. One night, five hundred bucks.” I froze, and quietly switched all my major classes to different sections. That rainy night when Mom’s condition worsened, I asked my childhood friend for money. He waited until the cigarette in his hand burned out before saying: “Luna, I don’t owe you anything.” After he left, a handsome guy held an umbrella over my head. “Would you be willing to come to England with me?” I nodded. On the first day of school, Iris stood on stage running for student representative. The moment the votes were announced, her flushed face turned deathly pale. Out of thirty students in the class, I got twenty-nine votes. Derek stared at Iris’s devastated expression with great interest, then suddenly started clapping, saying dotingly: “Luna, surprised?” Iris’s expression grew even worse, tears welling in her eyes as she looked at me with jealousy. I sighed silently. Derek and I grew up together. But I was just the daughter of his family’s housekeeper. The summer after middle school graduation, my dad was driving pregnant Mrs. Sterling and my mom when they got into an accident. Only my mom survived, and she became a vegetable. From that day on, I was thrown out of the Sterling house. My relationship with Derek changed dramatically too. Brake failure—he said he didn’t blame my dad. But he never spoke to me again. Everyone at school said my father was a murderer. That he killed Derek’s mom and his unborn baby brother. Derek was happy to watch me get blamed. After the exams, we coincidentally ended up at the same university, in the same class. He intimately took my bag, leaning close to my ear, “Haven’t seen you in so long, I missed you.” During self-introductions, he pointed his chin in my direction, “Luna.” Everyone looked over. The sunlight happened to fall on my profile, and they all thought it was the most beautiful confession from a teen drama. But then he suddenly smirked. “Her dad’s dead, her mom’s a vegetable.” The whole room erupted. They uncomfortably looked away. The professor sternly told Derek to get off the stage. When it was my turn, I just introduced myself simply. Derek found it incredibly boring. Until Iris appeared. She was beautiful, but poor. Like a rose with thorns, declaring she hated rich people the most. When she spoke, her gaze fell on Derek without any attempt to hide it. Derek scoffed, twirling my hair around his fingers, saying: “Don’t get too close to people whose brains haven’t fully developed.” I had a feeling he might be the one getting close to her. That was fine with me.

Sure enough, he sabotaged Iris’s campaign, then turned around and accompanied her to work part-time jobs, experiencing all of life’s hardships. People who bullied her got beaten into the hospital by him. I continued as usual—studying, working part-time, doing homework for others. Just when I thought our lives would become parallel lines. I walked into the classroom and heard a recording. “Luna, you need money badly, right? How much do you charge?” “Quick job’s fifty bucks, slow one’s five hundred.” It was my voice. Someone screamed, others laughed. Derek stood right in the middle. He said it in a frivolous tone. “I told you, she’s cheap.” The noise continued. Lewd stares fell on me. I was stunned for a moment. That recording had been edited. In high school, I did homework for others. The person in the recording was asking about homework prices. Even though I felt uncomfortable, I answered honestly. Now it was being played publicly. Iris threw herself into Derek’s arms in disbelief. “Why did you play that recording?” Derek rubbed her head, “Who told her to steal your competition spot.” I silently sat down and opened my phone. Found all the transaction records and posted them to the class group chat with full context. At the same time, I switched all my major courses to other sections. They could enjoy college life freely, or find entertainment at others’ expense. But I couldn’t. I had to repay the Williams family ten thousand dollars every month. I didn’t have time to participate in their attacks on anyone, including myself. Seeing I had no other reaction. Derek sat in the seat in front of me after class. He smiled carelessly, “Luna, I was just drumming up business for you.” “Shouldn’t you say thank you?” I looked at him. Nasty, arrogant, gloomy. The sunny, cheerful, sincere and polite young master of the Sterling family seemed to have died in that accident. Along with him died the optimistic, confident Luna. I lowered my eyes, my voice dry, “Thank you.” His expression darkened as he twisted his lips, “Don’t thank me.” Derek quickly discovered I’d switched classes. He brought Iris to the coffee shop where I worked part-time. Iris “accidentally” bumped into me, making hot coffee spill all over me. My arm turned bright red from the burn. She frowned and stepped back two steps, “Can’t you even carry coffee properly?” “You got it on me! This outfit costs more than you’d make selling coffee your whole life!” My motion to crouch down and clean up paused. I looked up at her. All designer brands, latest season. Definitely expensive. The coffee splashed on her clothes was so little you could barely see it. I stood up, “Call the police then. The surveillance caught everything clearly.” Especially her deliberately reaching out to push me. She choked, pulling on Derek’s hand, “The clothes you gave me are all dirty.” Derek glanced at her, soothingly patting her head, “I’ll buy you more.” Iris smiled, “Let’s go.” She hummed a song, linking arms with Derek as they left. Leaving behind a floor covered in coffee. I stood silently for a while, then crouched down to clean up. Delivery brought burn ointment with a note attached, “Switch your classes back.” I ignored it. But two weeks later when the big group project assignment came around, classmates would look away the moment they made eye contact with me. A girl I’d talked to a few times told me, “Someone told us not to team up with you.” The professor replied to me, “Luna, the midterm project must be done in groups of 2-3 people as a rule.” I stared at my computer blankly. Derek sent me two words. “Come back.” At the same time, someone sat down beside me. It was Adrian. Top of our year. He said. “Want to team up together?”

I breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed like every time I met Adrian, he could ease my predicament. Last time was during summer break after exams, when I waited anxiously in the Williams family living room for William. Adrian appeared first. I immediately stood up. He smiled warmly, “Don’t be nervous, I’m William’s grandson—Adrian.” I knew that. He was famous at school. I grabbed the corner of my shirt uncomfortably, “I’m Luna.” He poured me tea, “You’re here so early. Grandpa played video games all night, he probably won’t wake up that quickly.” I mumbled, “I can wait.” He said, “Want to play chess with me?” I froze. Adrian, national chess champion. He brought out the board, “Let’s play checkers. I heard you were really good at it in middle school.” That day we played checkers all morning. His presence let me relax when I was at a loss. Now too. I asked him, “Can we submit the form at the last minute?” Not filling it out yet, not telling others, not letting Derek know. I had a feeling that if he found out, he’d go crazy. Adrian agreed. After a while, he said: “If you need help, you can come to me.” On the last day to submit team forms, I got fired from the coffee shop. The manager subtly reminded me I’d offended someone. I stood hesitantly in front of the shop. Not knowing where to go for a moment. Heavy rain fell silently. My heart was in turmoil. I went to the hospital to see Mom. She lay quietly on the bed. Aging so fast, barely recognizable from before. The Sterling family said Mrs. Sterling was going out to play poker that day. Why did she have to bring Mom along? Derek sent me a message. “Come to Skyline. I’ll give you ten thousand.” I replied, “Transfer it first.” Skyline was a bar near school. The pungent smell of alcohol mixed with music. Derek waved his hand, “Come here.” I sat down next to him. The seat was still warm. I wanted to stand up, but he pressed down on my shoulder. “Why didn’t you come to me first?” He leaned close to my ear. “If you don’t come back, does someone else want to team up with you?” “Will Professor Wilson let you work alone?” I said nothing. He viciously bit my earlobe, “Luna, what gives you the right not to talk?” “What gives you the right to act so calm?” “What gives you the right to act like nothing happened?” “Michael is dead!” “Sarah is a vegetable now!” I pressed my lips tightly together, my teeth biting through my cheek to mask the pain. Iris came back from the bathroom to find someone in her seat. She ran over angrily and dumped a glass of alcohol all over me. “Get up! Don’t sit in my seat.” I was almost grateful to her. “Okay.” I only said one word, and the taste of blood spread through my mouth. Just as I stood up, someone tapped Derek’s shoulder. Looking at me strangely. “She already teamed up with Adrian.”

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My step-brother, Brandon, and I got engaged at the same time. He was set to marry Aurora, the piano virtuoso, while my stepmom, Eleanor, decided I’d marry Brianna, a rebellious dropout. But in our first life together, after the weddings, Aurora was framed and ended up in a vegetative state. Brandon cheated, and when it was exposed, he faced a massive online backlash. Brianna, on the other hand, became an influencer, raking in millions annually. Brandon, consumed by jealousy, grabbed me and jumped from a skyscraper. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the eve of our engagements. This time, Brandon switched our fiancées. He smirked, “Enjoy marrying the vegetable.” How rich. Marrying someone in a coma was a way better deal than being stuck with a wife into drinking, gambling, and all kinds of drama. Watching Brandon beg Eleanor not to make him marry Aurora, I knew right then—he’d been reborn too, just like me. In our past life, he was forced into a business marriage with the Aurora family. Aurora was a true piano virtuoso, the ultimate dream girl for many in the industry. “Richard Caleb, I’m telling you, your mom’s gone, and nobody in this house gives a crap about you.” “You don’t deserve better than some trashy dropout!” Reborn, and he still had that same rotten attitude. “I’ve taken so much from you—must eat you up inside, huh?” “So I’ll be ‘generous’ and let you have the arranged marriage instead!” Eleanor grilled him about why he’d waste pity on someone as worthless as me. I stood back, quiet, watching the whole mess play out. “Brandon, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Brandon whispered something into Eleanor’s ear, and her expression softened slightly. “Are you sure about this?” “I heard the Brians girl has a sketchy past. What if she causes problems once she’s in the family?” Eleanor looked genuinely worried, hesitant to agree to Brandon’s demand so easily. “No way, Mom!” “No way,” my ass. Brianna had gotten into all kinds of fights at school before dropping out, then got mixed up with drugs and gambling. Even her nouveau riche dad was bad news. “You’ve always spoiled me best—you wouldn’t say no to this little thing, right?” Brandon whined and latched onto Eleanor. She finally gave in, but not without taking a shot at me. “That’s only because Brandon didn’t want her. Otherwise, you wouldn’t stand a chance!” I didn’t care what they thought. Because I really didn’t deserve someone as brilliant as that piano prodigy. As for that dropout girl… What a train wreck of a family—let’s see how Brandon handles that marriage! Same as last time around, Brandon and I were both set up in arranged marriages. The only difference? He got the genius, and I got what everyone thought was the disaster. They were the ones who tore our family apart, but somehow I was the one who felt like an outsider. Brandon started his marriage all happy, but right after the wedding, Aurora left for an overseas performance. But Aurora got into a car crash on the way to the airport. It was attempted murder, and she ended up vegetative. Brandon threw fits, demanding to divorce Aurora. Eleanor felt sorry for him, but my dad Richard saw things differently. Sons in this family are assets—meant to secure advantages. Even with Aurora out of commission, the Aurora family hadn’t fallen. Richard favored Brandon way more than me, but he wouldn’t let him back out and risk losing the Aurora family’s business connections and company shares. Brandon couldn’t handle being alone and ended up cheating. The Calebs and Auroras were big names in business—his scandal made headlines everywhere. The scandal buried Brandon in online hate, while at the same time, my wife Brianna blew up. Brianna went from being the school outcast to a viral social media star overnight, all because of her looks. Brandon couldn’t wrap his head around it. He was drowning in online attacks. When he heard about Brianna’s success, he suddenly said he wanted to see me. I didn’t get what more he could want. Living in a mansion, driving sports cars, no responsibilities—what wasn’t to like? Since we were still family, I went to see him. But I never saw the murder coming. He thought he deserved a better life than me, and he couldn’t stand it. He hugged me, slammed us against the floor-to-ceiling window, and we both fell to our deaths. That’s why, after he was reborn, he immediately picked Brianna. Well, good for him. This lucky break? All mine!

In early June, Brandon and I got married back-to-back. Last time around, Brandon and Eleanor had deliberately scheduled our weddings on the same day to overshadow me. But this time, things were different. The Aurora family’s reputation wasn’t something they could just trample on. They showed up to my wedding with sour faces, clearly reluctant but not daring to skip it. The reception was packed. It was the first big social event I’d been to since Mom died. Dad had always thought I shouldn’t be in the public eye much after Mom passed. But right after Mom’s funeral, Eleanor and Brandon moved into the Caleb house. “Nervous?” I turned to Aurora standing beside me. We were the only ones outside the ballroom, waiting quietly to walk into our marriage. Aurora was stunning—even more beautiful than the piano prodigy I’d seen in videos. Today she wore a custom white wedding dress, her long hair up in an elegant twist that showed off her slender neck. “I…” Before I could even find the words, Aurora linked her arm through mine. The ballroom doors swung open. I felt a jolt of panic, but the warmth of her hand steadied me. After a long, exhausting day, I collapsed onto the king-sized bed in our bridal suite, letting my body finally relax. “Tired?” “Want to come out for something to eat?” “Not hungry.” Immediately, my traitorous stomach growled loudly, giving me away. “Just a little bit?” Her voice was so soft. And after not eating all day, I was definitely craving something. I ended up sitting across from her at the dining table, eating the meal my new wife had cooked. Who knew those hands—made for playing piano—could cook too? I never would’ve guessed. “I’m sorry.” Halfway through the meal, she suddenly apologized. I wasn’t surprised. News of her upcoming France concert was all over social media. “I’m leaving tomorrow. It’s so last-minute, and I know it might make you look bad.” She explained quietly. “It’s fine—you do what you need to.” After saying it, I realized that sounded too cold, so I added, “This food is amazing, by the way.” Aurora’s apologetic expression broke into a smile. “Thank you!” That night, Aurora naturally stayed in the guest room. I tossed and turned in bed, replaying last life’s events in my head. Thinking about Aurora’s terrible accident and then her gentle, thoughtful ways, I found myself wanting to stop her from dying. I could’ve just ignored it, but Mom always said good deeds come back around. And Aurora was definitely one of the good ones. Someone this good didn’t deserve to die. I jumped out of bed and ran to the guest room door, knocking hard. “What is it?” “Aurora—” “Aurora—” I panted, out of breath from getting up so fast. “Do you want to come in?” Seeing me in my pajamas, her eyes filled with concern. “No!” I looked down at myself and quickly shook my head. “Be careful tomorrow!” “Check the car your assistant prepared—thoroughly.” Aurora looked confused, which made sense. No one would believe such a random warning. But if Aurora didn’t believe me, it could cost her life! I grabbed her shoulders, dead serious, practically begging. “Don’t get in that car. Whatever you do, don’t get in that car!” Seeing how worked up I was, Aurora reluctantly agreed. Back in my room, I checked the mirror and realized I looked like a mess. The next morning, I woke up to find breakfast on the table. It was cold, so Aurora must have left hours ago. I unlocked my phone to find a bunch of texts from her. “Breakfast’s on the table—eat it.” “Cold food’s bad for your stomach. Microwave’s on the cream cabinet in the kitchen.” After seven, she sent a few more updates. “Car had issues. Called the police—waiting for them to sort it out.” “Safely on the plane! No need to worry :)” I must have seemed crazy yesterday. She probably explained everything to keep me from panicking. Her earlier messages were polite, almost formal. I meant to reply with a simple “Okay,” but that felt too short. I thought about a thumbs-up emoji instead. Of course, my finger slipped and I sent an “I love you” emoji by mistake. Before I could unsend it, her reply popped up: “Okay, okay :)” I wanted to die right then and there.

Aurora was overseas, but I wasn’t idle. Back in college, my friend and I started a fashion studio that was finally taking off. I grabbed my design sketches from home and Ubered to the office. “Well, well, look who it is—Caleb!” “Told you I had an eye for talent back then!” Maya, the studio owner, was an upperclassman I met in college who discovered me at a design competition. She said I was born for this and took me under her wing. We became friends over time and started this fashion design studio together. “Maya, cut it out!” “If you hadn’t pulled me out of that slump back then, I’d still be stuck going nowhere!” It wasn’t that the Calebs couldn’t support me—they just didn’t want to. Like Brandon said, nobody in the Caleb family gave a damn about me. Luckily, I had a passion for design and some talent—more than enough to make it on my own. Last life, Maya and I ran this same studio. But Brianna and her dad thought I was slumming it, acting like marrying her meant I should wait on them hand and foot. Not “waste” family money on some tiny studio. To put me in my place, the Brianses shut our studio down. We ran out of funding and collapsed completely, leaving Maya drowning in debt. Thankfully, Grandma Evelyn never had those hang-ups. Aurora’s parents were always overseas, and even Grandma Evelyn hadn’t seen much of them lately—except at the wedding. When I visited the old estate, I brought a suit I’d designed and tailored myself. Grandma Evelyn loved it, gushing about my good taste. When she found out I’d made it by hand, she loved it even more. “Caleb, marrying our Aurora must feel like a sacrifice for you.” Grandma Evelyn patted my hand, sighing softly. “What are you talking about, Grandma? I’m the lucky one here.” Grandma Evelyn frowned, tapping my hand lightly. “Nonsense! I’m thrilled to have you as my grandson-in-law!” “Handsome and kind-hearted. Aurora’s the one always running around—she doesn’t pay you enough attention.” She was busy, sure, but she didn’t neglect me. Every day, she texted me—simple hellos and meal reminders. For work, I was doing market research at a designer clothing store. Running into Brandon was the last thing I expected. “Caleb, doesn’t Aurora find this embarrassing?” I stared, confused, still holding the suit I’d designed. “Instead of being a proper son-in-law, you’re slumming it as a sales clerk!” At home, Brandon always had custom clothes made for every season. Seeing him shopping for clothes was a shock. He must’ve mistaken me for staff—my studio uniform looked a lot like the store’s. I swapped my surprised look for a polite smile. “Does spending Daddy’s money make you feel like a big man?” “Why do you always stick your nose where it doesn’t belong?” I wasn’t his mom, and I sure as hell wasn’t gonna coddle him. “Caleb! Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?!” Brandon glared at me like he wanted to tear me apart. Then his expression shifted, and a smug grin spread across his face. “Caleb, don’t get too comfortable. Soon you’ll be a pathetic loser with a comatose wife!” I wasn’t scared. I just hauled off and slapped him. “Who the hell do you think you are, wishing that on Aurora?” The noise drew everyone in the store, and they all turned to stare. The people who shopped here were rich and well-connected. Brandon didn’t dare make a scene, so he scurried off like a whipped dog. Playing these games—did he really think I was some kind of saint? “Caleb, Brianna’s not just hot—she’s got abs! You regret it now, don’t you?” A Snapchat notification popped up from Brandon. I’ll admit it—Brianna was good-looking, and her body was definitely something. But some people are all flash and no substance. Her basic morals… I wasn’t about to warn him about Brianna’s future mess. I was betting he’d crash and burn all on his own. He couldn’t blame me—he chose this, didn’t he? I locked my phone without replying.

For the next while, I ignored Brandon’s bragging and threats. When I wasn’t at the studio, I visited Grandma Evelyn at the old estate or stayed home. Grandma Evelyn said she’d taught Aurora piano herself—back in the day, she’d been a famous pianist too. When Mom was alive, I’d been pretty good at cello. Piano? I only knew the basics. I asked Grandma Evelyn to teach me, partly because I was curious—wanted to understand something Aurora loved. And partly to keep Grandma company. Old folks tend to get nostalgic, right? Last life, I’d married Brianna. Her family had all these old-fashioned ideas, but they never taught me anything useful. Just manipulation, petty schemes, and backwards stuff like “men should wait on women hand and foot.” Grandma Evelyn was thrilled I asked. She held my hand and talked for ages. “It’s so nice to see such thoughtfulness in a young man!” Grandma Evelyn taught me carefully. After a few weeks, I could play some of Aurora’s songs. “That was lovely. Aurora would be so happy to hear you play.” Grandma Evelyn smiled warmly and handed me a sheet music book with Aurora’s name on it. “Caleb, how are things going with you and Aurora lately?” Aurora wasn’t even in the country. How were things supposed to “go”? “Grandma, we’re good. Getting along great.” I gave a neutral, polite answer, but Grandma Evelyn still looked hopeful. “Oh really?” She sighed deeply, disappointment written all over her face. Was Grandma Evelyn hoping for great-grandkids? That seemed impossible. “Also, I…” “I really like Aurora.” Grandma Evelyn’s face lit up with a big smile. “Of course! Aurora told me to take good care of you—make sure you’re happy being part of our family.” “I knew it! My granddaughter has a soft spot for her sweet son-in-law!” Really? She was amazing. Grandma too. “Thank you, Grandma. I’m happier here than I ever was at home.” Lying in bed later, I checked the studio group chat. Aurora had texted me too. “Everything’s sorted. Don’t worry, I’m okay!” She forwarded a news article with the headline: “Famous Pianist Attacked.” These tabloids love stirring up drama—making up crazy stories just for clicks. They twist details to get people to read their garbage. “Got it.” “Come home soon.” I hit send, then immediately cringed. Too forward? But there was no taking it back. I just closed the chat, figuring, *I already embarrassed myself with that emoji—what’s one more dumb message?* “Okay, I’ll be home.” I stared at those words, re-reading them for ages. The attack on Aurora made headlines. Even the cops she called got swarmed by paparazzi. Brandon saw the news and came by pretending to offer condolences. I didn’t want to deal with him, so I hid at the studio. He showed up a few times but kept getting turned away. He called, but I ignored it—used work as an excuse. But he was as persistent as ever, sending me this long message. Mostly snarky comments and backhanded insults, with some random praise for Brianna thrown in. I didn’t care. Dude was just a sad clown. Maya found out, flipped him off, and went, “Unbelievable!” “He’s such a creep!” “Your brother’s just here to stir up drama, right? Always with the shady comments!” She looked at my chat with Brandon, fuming. I just smiled and brushed it off. Brandon would learn soon enough how much it sucked to be wrong. Couldn’t wait.

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After six years of marriage, my wife Vivian Williams suddenly posted on social media: “Well, well—look who’s here. Sore loser still won’t admit it, wants a rematch?” The photo showed a young guy in a skull-print tee, pouting with a scowl, cross-legged in a gaming chair. That was Leo Miller, the new artist her company had just signed. I was staring at the screen in a daze when a mutual friend commented below: “Vivian! You forgot to switch accounts!” A few seconds later, Vivian’s post disappeared entirely. But not long after, the exact same post showed up on Leo’s Instagram. Vivian called me right away. In the past, I would’ve screenshotted it, marched over to confront her, and demanded answers. But this time, I just stared at my phone screen in silence, letting it ring until it stopped. When Vivian got home, I was curled up on the couch watching a movie. She tossed her car keys onto the entryway cabinet and bent down to change her shoes. “Why didn’t you answer when I called? You were home, right?” Vivian never used to question me like this—unless she was feeling guilty. I kept my eyes on the TV as I replied casually: “The movie was too good. Didn’t hear the phone.” “Work dinner ran late, so I’m home late. You don’t have to sit around waiting for me every night. No one’s impressed by this little act.” Before, I would’ve patiently explained it was just how I showed I cared. But today, I couldn’t even be bothered to say anything else. Vivian stood in front of me, tossing a luxury brand shopping bag my way. Today marked the premiere of her company’s big new drama series. To celebrate, I’d left work early like always, cooked a whole spread, and invited some mutual friends over to watch the premiere with her when she got home. But after four episodes, our friends had eaten dinner in awkward silence and left, and Vivian—who’d promised to be home early—still hadn’t shown up. I pretended not to notice the ten hours of straight gaming on her phone, took the paper bag, and set it casually on the carpet. I’d seen this bag before, not long ago—when she missed our anniversary. Same size, same style. Vivian stared down at me for a second, then frowned, her voice turning cold: “Jonathan, are you gonna keep moping around?” Buying gifts was Vivian’s go-to apology move. Once I accepted a gift, no matter what had happened before, she’d act like everything was fine. If I brought it up again, I was just “nagging.” Now that I wasn’t letting her off easy, she was clearly ticked off. “Here, let me open it for you.” Without waiting for a response, she ripped open the packaging, pulled out a brand-new handbag, and held it out to me: “The sales girl said this style is super hard to get—you’ll love it.” I looked up. Vivian followed my gaze to the bag I’d tossed on the couch earlier—the one I’d grabbed in my rush to make dinner. It was exactly like the one in her hand. The room went dead silent. “It’s getting late. You should get some sleep—you have work tomorrow.” I said flatly, standing up to head to the bedroom. “I’ll have my assistant take you tomorrow so you can pick out another one.” Vivian’s voice held a rare note of caution. “No thanks.” I refused without turning around. The next morning, maybe realizing she’d gone too far, Vivian uncharacteristically suggested we carpool to work. I hadn’t slept well, so I just nodded. She stood by her car, face tight with bottled-up irritation and impatience. I couldn’t remember when it started, but Vivian had begun making excuses not to let me ride with her. She treated that passenger seat like her personal space—wouldn’t even let me touch it—until I finally bought my own car. Every time I asked, she’d snap that I was being ridiculous, obsessing over “shotgun rights” like some internet weirdo, and that she didn’t have time for my petty jealousy. Now that seat clearly belonged to Leo. It was covered in race car models and stickers. The seat was custom-fitted to his body, and even the sun visor had been adjusted so he could fix his hair easier. Vivian glanced at me, sighed, then opened the door and carefully moved all his stuff to the back seat. Watching her, I frowned a little and said: “Don’t bother. I’ll drive myself.” Vivian kept tidying up the clutter: “I said we’d go together. Leo’s just a kid—he likes that stupid stuff. Don’t take it personally.” Even with the decorations gone, that custom seat still looked totally out of place in her car. In the end, I still didn’t get in Vivian’s car. No real reason—just this sick, twisted feeling in my gut.

I unlocked my car, but Vivian hurried over, opened the driver’s door first, and slid in. “I’ll drive. That way we’re still going to the office together.” I stood quiet outside the window, catching the flicker of guilt in her eyes. Guess even she knew decking out the passenger seat like that was over the top. Vivian paused, like she was trying to think of an excuse. Not wanting to hear it, I cut her off: “We’ll be late. Just drive.” She shut her mouth and started the car. Not even ten minutes into the drive, her phone rang—some loud electronic music blaring. Leo’s voice came through, breathless and whiny: “Vivian, my heart’s racing… We went street racing last night and now I feel dizzy. I think I’m gonna die! You gotta come… I need a doctor.” After hanging up, Vivian didn’t say a word—didn’t even look at me. She pulled over immediately, reached across, and unbuckled my seatbelt. Her voice was all business—sharp and to the point: “My client’s not feeling well. I have to go. The office isn’t far—you can walk from here.” I barely closed the door before Vivian hit the gas, peeling out into traffic and leaving a cloud of exhaust behind her. This was a tech campus—everyone drove. No one walked to work here. A scooter came around the corner, not expecting anyone on foot, and plowed right into me. I scraped up my forehead, palms, and knees pretty good. The clinic nurse cleaned me up, put on some waterproof bandages, and warned: “Take these off before showering tonight so the cuts can breathe. Keep them dry until they scab over.” On the Uber to the office, the driver had two phones going—one for navigation, the other streaming Leo live. The comments were blowing up with people worried about his health. “Thanks for all the love, guys! I’m doing way better now that Vivian showed up like my knight in shining armor. Having her here makes everything better.” “No, no, you guys—don’t get the wrong idea ~ Vivian’s just the best, she takes such good care of me.” While he babbled on, my phone pinged with two texts. “Jonathan, my assistant said you missed the morning project meeting? Where were you? Work comes first—do I really need to spell that out?” “I ask you to walk a few blocks and you throw a hissy fit? Seriously?” You could practically feel the eye-rolling through the screen. Sometimes I swear she must have a split personality. How else could she play favorites so hard? That evening, I changed my bandages in the bathroom mirror, then dragged my sore leg back to the couch to watch TV. The front door unlocked, and Vivian’s snarky voice cut through the room: “I thought maybe you’d finally gotten over that attitude problem, being so quiet lately. Turns out you were just saving up to cause bigger problems?” My silence must have ticked her off, because she marched over and yanked the TV plug out. “Jonathan, are you nuts?! This is an award-winning project—do you have any clue how much money we lose with a one-day delay?!” I didn’t move or say a word, just watched her freeze mid-rant. She squinted at the scab on my forehead and the bandages on my elbow and knee, then frowned: “What happened?” I met her eyes and said flatly: “Nothing major. Got hit by a scooter on the way to work.” Vivian blinked, then suddenly dropped the attitude and stepped closer to check my injuries. “You got hurt and didn’t even call me?” I pulled my hand away, voice light: “Just a scratch. I’m not dying. Besides, you were busy taking care of your client’s ‘health emergency’ at the time.” Some care comes too late. She could talk a big game, but every time I actually needed help, all I got was criticism. Vivian had stopped caring if I was okay a long time ago. After all that, if I still expected her to rush to my side, I really was an idiot. That comment hit a nerve. Vivian shot to her feet, sneering down at me: “Must you be so sarcastic, Jonathan? Asking you to walk a few blocks is a crime now? You’re 28, not 2! You got hit by a scooter while walking—are you really gonna play the victim here? I bet you did this on purpose to get back at me!” I stared at her meltdown, too exhausted to even roll my eyes. What was there left to say? One sentence and I’m getting accused of intentional injury. Too drained to fight, I tried to stand up to go to bed. When she saw me struggling, Vivian dialed back the attitude, sighed, and moved to help. “I’ll sleep in here tonight. Just yell if you need anything.” Vivian hadn’t been in our bedroom before 2 AM in months. Because Leo needed to stream every night to build his following. He claimed late-night streams got too many trolls, and he “couldn’t handle it alone” without someone watching his back. So Vivian locked herself in the home office every single night, glued to his stream. She’d send him virtual gifts to boost his visibility or jump on camera with him, making sure everyone knew Leo was her “priority talent.” I’d argued with her a hundred times—begged, pleaded, fought—but nothing changed. She said it was just work. Then threatened divorce when I pushed back. My throat tightened, but I gave in. I looked at her, not fighting the idea. But when she reached for me, I said quietly: “Vivian, let’s get divorced.”

That sentence hit harder than I expected. Vivian grabbed her keys and bolted, disappearing for a whole week. Classic move when she was mad. Clearly, she still wasn’t taking me seriously. Back in the day, her silent treatment would’ve sent me into a panic—no eating, no sleeping, terrified I’d lose her. I’d stay up all night calling, writing essays of apologies, promising to never upset her again—anything to get her back. Now? I was too busy updating my resume. Working at my ex-wife’s company post-divorce? Not a good look. Ten days later, as I was wrapping up work, Vivian called. For her, initiating contact was a big olive branch. Not accepting would be ungrateful—at least in her book. “We hit Q1 and Q2 targets. Admin’s throwing a celebration tonight. Let’s go together.” I waited downstairs for almost an hour before Vivian showed up—fashionably late, of course. The passenger window rolled down, and Leo—full makeup, perfectly styled—popped his head out, grinning: “I got bored with my wardrobe, so Vivian took me shopping. Hope you didn’t wait too long, Jonathan.” “Oh, and I get car sick super easily, so Vivian said I should ride up front. Cool with you?” Vivian’s knuckles were white on the wheel, eyes darting like she expected me to blow up. But I just opened the back door and got in. Who cared about the stupid front seat? Wasn’t worth the energy. Leo spent the whole ride flirting with Vivian and subtly showing off, but I just stared out the window, tuning it all out. Vivian, though, was weirdly quiet—jaw tight, not really engaging with Leo. She kept checking my reflection in the rearview mirror. When we got to the hotel, Vivian’s childhood friend Michael spotted us and jogged over, grin plastered on: “Jonathan! Been too long. Sorry I didn’t text you personally—work’s been crazy.” Michael was Vivian’s ride-or-die—knew all her business. He never invited me to plus-one events anymore. Because Vivian’s plus-one was Leo now, and if I showed up? I’d cause a scene. And that would embarrass her. I smiled politely: “No worries. Just here to make an appearance.” Michael froze. He glanced at Vivian, then just shrugged. Inside, Vivian worked the room with a drink, then found me holding a slice of cake. “Matcha cake. Thought you’d like it.” I used to love matcha cake in college. Not so much anymore. Before I could say no, Leo appeared with his phone out. Of course he was live streaming. “Hey guys! Look who I found!” “The guy next to her? Just a coworker. Vivian’s being nice, giving him cake. No big deal.” “Oh come on, don’t start that. Vivian and I are just friends~” I held up a hand to block the camera, then got up and left. I found a quiet spot on the outdoor balcony to get some air, but Vivian followed. She actually sounded nervous: “I’m sorry, Jonathan. I didn’t know Leo was streaming.” “Don’t pay attention to the chat. We just play it up for the stream—it’s not real.” “I told him to turn it off. It’s fine now.” I nodded. Whatever. I didn’t care either way. Back inside, the host was hyping up the crowd. I grabbed a drink, and when I turned around, Leo was there with champagne, clinking my glass. “Jonathan, my fans say Vivian and I have crazy chemistry. Who do you think she likes more?” I lifted my glass, deadpan: “Ask her. But right now? Probably you.” Leo laughed, like that was exactly what he wanted to hear, then leaned in and whispered: “Thought so!” Something felt off. I stepped back, but Leo moved faster—he stumbled backward and fell. Before I could react, someone shoved me hard. I tripped and crashed into the champagne tower. Glass exploded everywhere. My arm and back screamed in pain. My vision went fuzzy. I grabbed a table to steady myself. Through the chaos, I felt warm blood running down my back and arm. Vivian helped Leo up gently, then spun around and yelled at me in front of everyone: “Jonathan, are you gonna keep this up forever?! Do you need to see a therapist or something…?” She stopped mid-sentence, staring at the blood spreading across my arm and shirt. Her voice shook: “You… why are you bleeding so much? Where are you hurt?!”

Vivian ran over, yelling at the crowd: “Call 911! Now!” But Leo stopped someone from dialing, pulled Vivian aside, and pulled a bandage roll from his backpack: “Jonathan, you gotta be more careful. Here, press this on your cut.” Vivian froze. She looked at me, face going white: “Just take care of it. Stop making a scene.” So that was it. With Leo around, even the pretense of being a married couple was too much. I bit back the pain, stood up, and called my friend. Shawn picked up right away: “Jonathan? What’s wrong?” I closed my eyes, barely able to speak: “Shawn, I’m hurt. Need to go to the hospital.” Before I could finish, the room spun. Footsteps rushed over. Everything went black, and I fell into someone’s arms. When I woke up, the doctor said I had glass cuts on my arm that needed stitches and a bruised back that needed rest. Walking out of the exam room, Shawn was waiting with sunflowers: “Dude, you’re banged up like this and you still wanna divorce? You really over Vivian?” The numbing was wearing off, making me pale, but I managed a smile. After seeing who Vivian really was? I didn’t want the marriage, let alone anything else. Six years of marriage felt like one big joke now. “She did this to herself.” “Whatever you need, I’m in. Since you’re sure, our lawyer friend will hook you up. Right, Emma?” Emma Hayes, standing next to Shawn, nodded: “Absolutely. She won’t get more than she’s entitled to.” “I’ll draft the papers ASAP, but we should prep for court too.” I thanked her: “I really appreciate this, Emma.” For everything—tonight, the divorce, all of it. Emma knew what I meant and smiled: “Anytime.” I took a week of sick leave. Vivian never called. I didn’t either. After the incident, they’d reassigned my project, so my being out didn’t matter. When I went back to file paperwork, I ran into Leo in the hallway. He blocked my path, smirks all around, eyes daring me: “Heard you took sick leave. Back already? Thought you were hurt bad—shouldn’t you rest more?” I turned to him: “You did that on purpose?” So his little fall wasn’t just for show? He actually planned to make me trip? Leo acted shocked: “Was it that big a deal? Oops. My bad. I just slipped a little. Didn’t think you’d overreact…” Leo grabbed his cheek where I’d punched him, eyes blazing. Then his face changed—suddenly his eyes got all red and watery: “Vivian! I was just being nice and he hit me!” Vivian ran over, checked Leo’s face, then turned to me, totally fed up: “Jonathan, how long are you gonna keep this up?! Faking sick is one thing, but don’t act out at work! Take your drama elsewhere!” I saw Leo’s little victory smirk. He mouthed: “You can’t win. ” I stared at them, then walked away. No looking back. Trash belongs with trash. Hope they stay stuck together forever. I went home, made some soup, and crashed in bed. Being hurt made me tired. Slept till evening. Felt better, so I ordered a healthy dinner. Of course Vivian walked in with the delivery guy. I ignored her, set my plate, and ladled hot soup. Vivian went straight to the kitchen—old habit, grabbing milk to warm. She saw the food and paused. Put the milk back, voice soft for once: “Thanks for the soup. ” I moved her hand away, picked up my bowl, and sipped: “This is mine. Not for you. ” Her hand froze mid-air. Her face went dark. “Jonathan, you know I have a sensitive stomach. ” “Jonathan, you know perfectly well I have a sensitive stomach.” I took another sip, warm and good. “I know. ” “That’s why I used to cook every night after work—followed nutritionist recipes, made sure it was easy on your stomach. Hoped you’d feel better. ” But what did I get? ” You out with him. ” Me sitting there like an idiot, watching food get cold. ” Just like how I felt about you. ” Burned out. Frozen over. ” I kept eating. ” But that’s done. ” “You have Leo now. Let him handle your stomach. ” Vivian stared, jaw tight. Finally, she went to the kitchen and warmed her own milk. No words. ” After dinner, I went to the bedroom. Vivian was already showered, leaning against the headboard—no phone, just grinning like an idiot. She jumped up when I walked in, got close, and whispered in my ear: “Let’s go to bed early. ” I pushed her away. She came back, arms around my waist, voice way too soft: “We haven’t… in so long. What if we have a baby? Hm?” She tried to kiss me. I moved. She got mad, pushed me onto the bed, and started unbuttoning my pajamas. I slapped her. Vivian’s face flashed angry, but she held it in: “Jonathan, you’re my husband! What’s wrong with wanting a baby? Fine, be mad about Leo—but enough is enough!” I looked her in the eye. ” Vivian, I want a divorce. ” “If you want a baby, find someone else. I’m sure there’s a line. ” Vivian stared, like she couldn’t believe it. ” What did you say? Say that again, you—?!” “I want a divorce. ” Vivian just stood there. Then she laughed, bitter. ” You sure about this? ” I held her gaze. ” Absolutely. ” She got off the bed, got dressed. Smirking. ” “What new game is this? Some internet trend? Aren’t you tired of this act?” She slammed the bedroom door so hard the walls shook.

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When I was ten years old, my parents died on their way to pick up my brother from prison. At the funeral home, I stared at the man kneeling by the caskets—my brother, just released after serving five years. I rushed at him and shoved him with all my strength: “This is all your fault! If you hadn’t been in prison, Mom and Dad wouldn’t have gone to get you! They wouldn’t be dead!” Damian stumbled from my push but didn’t look up. He just kept praying harder. From that day on, I never called him my brother again. Mom kept treasures in an old metal box. Young and curious as I was, I couldn’t resist sneaking a look when the adults weren’t home. Inside the box was a very old ultrasound report. It read: [Umbilical cord blood match successful. Donor: Fetus. Recipient: Damian] Damian was my brother, fifteen years older than me. For as long as I could remember, he’d been in prison. Mom and Dad never talked about what he’d done. But every time they came back from visiting him, Mom’s eyes would be swollen from crying, and Dad would chain-smoke in silence all night. Before I turned ten, everything I knew about my brother amounted to this: a blurry name, a stranger who made our parents cry, and the entire reason for my existence. Yes, I knew. I was never the product of my parents’ love. I was just proof of how much they loved him. Mom’s health was poor. She risked a late-life pregnancy with me only because Damian had leukemia and needed cord blood from a newborn to survive. The day I was born, Damian’s surgery was a success. And me? I was just a “useful tool” in this family. Karma’s funny that way. Who would’ve thought the brother wrapped in our parents’ love would commit murder and end up behind bars? I was five that year. I was too young to remember why Damian went to prison. Not that it mattered. What mattered was that I would go from being the family’s “tool” to being Mom and Dad’s only child. That didn’t last long. When I turned ten, Damian was released. Mom and Dad left early that morning, full of hope about giving him a fresh start. Then the news came. A truck’s brakes had failed. It crashed into their car. Dad died instantly. Mom held on until we got to the hospital. She only said one thing to me: “Claire, take care of your brother.” I didn’t understand. Why was I supposed to take care of him when I was the child who needed taking care of? Before I could argue with her, Mom closed her eyes. At the funeral home, I looked at the stiff smiles in Mom and Dad’s photos, then at the stranger kneeling before their caskets—my brother, whom I hadn’t seen in five years. His forehead pounded against the floor, blood seeping out and mixing with his tears. Relatives whispered, their stares like needles in my back. “Poor thing, losing her parents so young…” “Living with a murderer for a brother—what’s going to happen to her?” I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms. Then I rushed at him and shoved with all my strength: “This is all your fault! If you hadn’t been in prison, Mom and Dad wouldn’t have gone to get you! They wouldn’t be dead!” Damian stumbled but didn’t look up. He just kept hitting his head against the floor, harder than before. The night after the funeral, Damian found me in the dark living room. He wore an ill-fitting old shirt, his eyes sunken, looking like a skeleton. “Claire.” His voice was hoarse as he reached to touch my hair. I dodged away. “Don’t touch me,” I said. His hand froze mid-air, then slowly dropped.

We lived in a small town where there were no secrets. Everyone’s business became everyone’s gossip. So it didn’t take long before everyone knew: Damian was out of prison. He was a murderer. Not only morally corrupt, but he’d also brought death to his own parents. And his little sister Claire had lost both parents at such a young age and now had to live with her killer brother. When I returned to school, my homeroom teacher gave me a pointed look during roll call. “Claire, given your family’s special circumstances, if you need anything, talk to me.” The whole class turned to stare. During break, boys crowded around my desk, smirking: “Claire, did your brother really kill someone?” “How’d he do it? With a knife or a rope?” “Are you gonna kill people too?” I buried my face in my arms, pretending not to hear. Walking home from school, girls from another class pointed at me. “That’s her. Her brother’s been to prison.” “Stay away from her. A murderer’s sister can’t be any good either.” I ran home and threw my backpack on the floor. Damian was in the kitchen making noodles, wearing Mom’s old apron, clumsily frying an egg. “You’re home, Claire?” He turned around, forcing a smile. “Dinner’s almost ready.” Looking at his face—so similar to Dad’s—I suddenly exploded: “Why did you come back?! Why didn’t you just die in prison?! Do you know everyone’s laughing at me?! Saying I’m a murderer’s sister!” The pot of water boiled, steam obscuring his face. He turned off the stove, his back to me, shoulders trembling slightly. After a long time, he finally said: “…I’m sorry.” That night, I heard him crying in the living room—suppressed, like a wounded animal whimpering. But I didn’t go out there. I hugged Mom’s pillow and told myself: I hate him. I had no obligation to understand or feel sorry for him. If it weren’t for him, my mom and dad wouldn’t have died in that accident. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be pointed at every single day. He was someone who’d only survived because of my cord blood, yet he “repaid” that debt by turning my life into chaos. I was sick of him. I hated him. Damian started working. During the day he worked construction, at night he helped at the market stalls, and late at night he took on odd jobs assembling cardboard boxes. Probably because of the major surgery he’d had, his health was poor. He coughed constantly and always looked pale. But he spent every penny he earned on me: new backpack, new clothes, even books I mentioned in passing. I had to admit, Damian took good care of me. But my environment was still a swamp. In eighth grade, I ranked first in my year. For parent-teacher night, he borrowed a nicer shirt and combed his hair neatly. But the moment he walked into the classroom, the whispers started. “That’s Claire’s brother?” “He looks pretty harmless. Hard to imagine…” “Murderers don’t have it written on their faces.” Throughout the whole meeting, he kept his head down, fingers gripping his knees tightly. On the way home, I followed behind him, watching his slightly hunched back, and suddenly said: “Let’s move away.” He stopped but didn’t turn around. “Where to?” “Anywhere,” I said. “Everyone here knows you’re a murderer anyway.” He was silent for a long time. “Okay.” A month later, we moved to a city two hundred miles away. Damian used all our savings to rent a tiny studio apartment. We slept in bunk beds. He found work at an electronics factory, working rotating shifts on the assembly line. The night we moved in, I lay on the unfamiliar top bunk, staring at the cracks in the ceiling. “Hey,” I suddenly spoke. Rustling came from the lower bunk. “Yeah?” “Why did you go to prison?” Silence. Long, suffocating silence. Just when I thought he wouldn’t answer, he said quietly: “…I did something wrong.” “What wrong thing?” “Something very bad,” his voice was soft as a sigh. “Claire, don’t ask anymore.” “Just know that I’m sorry—sorry to you, sorry to Mom and Dad…that’s enough.” I turned to face the wall. Always like this. Forever like this. I was never entitled to know the truth.

Apparently, miracles do happen. After working at the electronics factory for half a year, Damian caught the eye of the boss’s daughter. The boss’s daughter was named Vivian, five years younger than Damian, fresh out of college, sent by her father to learn management at the factory. Supposedly, the moment she saw Damian, she couldn’t look away. Fine, I’ll admit—Damian was good-looking. Even I couldn’t deny it. Despite being malnourished, despite always looking exhausted, he’d inherited all of our parents’ best features: deep eyes, a straight nose, and when he was quiet, a kind of broken beauty. Vivian pursued him so openly that the whole factory knew. She brought him meals, medicine, even kept him company when he worked late. His coworkers all urged him: “Damian, just say yes! That’s the boss’s daughter! You’d skip twenty years of struggle!” Damian always shook his head. “I’m not worthy.” Until Vivian’s father—Mr. Palmer himself—came to talk to him. Damian came home very late that night and sat in the dark living room, smoking cigarette after cigarette. He never usually smoked. “What’s wrong?” I couldn’t help asking. He stubbed out his cigarette, his voice dry: “Mr. Palmer…knows I was in prison.” My heart sank. Of course. The background check came through. That was it. He’d lose his job. We couldn’t stay in this city anymore. “He asked me about what happened back then,” Damian continued. “I told him everything.” I closed my eyes in despair. “And then?” “And then…” Damian looked up, his eyes strangely bright in the darkness. “He said next month has an auspicious date, and asked if I wanted a traditional or Western-style wedding.” I was stunned. He must be crazy. I thought. Mr. Palmer must be insane to want a murderer for a son-in-law. But good for him being crazy. I also thought. After all, the Palmer family was truly wealthy. Who wouldn’t want to latch onto a family like theirs? The wedding was simple, just ten tables set up in the factory cafeteria. Damian wore a rented suit, looking like a puppet. Vivian wore a white wedding dress, smiling sweetly. During the toast, she walked up to me, her expression complicated. “You’re Claire, right?” She raised her glass. “We’re family now.” I raised my soda without saying anything. She smiled, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. On their wedding night, Damian moved into the Palmer family’s two-story house. I stayed in the rental apartment, thinking I could finally have some peace. The next morning, Damian came to get me. “Pack your things. You’re moving in.” “I’m not going.” “Claire,” for the first time, he used such a firm tone. “You have to.” “Why? Vivian obviously doesn’t like me!” “Because you’re my sister,” Damian looked at me, his eyes suddenly reddening. “You’re my only family left in this world, Claire. I can’t leave you behind.” In the end, I moved in. Vivian prepared a room for me—north-facing, small, but clean. She was polite on the surface, but that politeness carried an icy distance. I could feel it. She hated me. Not me as a person, but the identity of “Damian’s sister.” Living at the Palmers’, I’d describe it as living under someone else’s charity. Vivian never mistreated me. Food, clothes, everything—even better than what many of my classmates had. But she barely spoke to me, looking at me like I was a defective product she had no choice but to accept. Damian was caught in the middle, growing quieter and quieter. He got promoted to team leader at the factory, became busier, and when he came home, he still had to deal with Vivian and her extremely controlling father. I could see his exhaustion, but he never complained. When I was fifteen, I got into Central High, the best high school in the state. Most importantly, Central was a boarding school. The day I got my acceptance letter, Damian was happy as a kid, specially cooking a whole table of dishes. Vivian was happy too—happier than Damian, even. At dinner, she gave me a genuinely warm smile for once: “Claire’s so impressive. Boarding school is great—you can focus on your studies.” I understood what she meant: I’d be boarding, so she wouldn’t have to see me every day anymore. The night before school started, Damian came to my room and handed me a bank card. “The PIN is your birthday. If you need anything, buy it. Don’t try to save money.” “Does Vivian know?” “…Yes.” He wasn’t telling the truth. I could see the unease in his eyes. “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll study hard and become independent soon. Then…I won’t be a burden to you guys anymore.” Damian opened his mouth to say something but ended up just ruffling my hair. “Claire’s all grown up.” His palm was warm, but I pulled away.

I did well at school. Nobody knew my family background. I could finally be a normal student. Good grades, a few friends I could talk to, and sometimes I’d even dream about the future— I’d go to college far, far away from here. Get away from this place completely. Get away from Damian completely. When I came home for winter break in tenth grade, I noticed Damian had lost a lot of weight. “It’s nothing, just work stress.” He brushed it off. But Vivian seemed unusually anxious, snapping at everything. One night I got up for water and heard them arguing in the master bedroom. “…You have to be hospitalized! How long do you think you can keep dragging this out?!” “Vivian, just wait a bit longer, the factory’s been…” “The factory, the factory! Do you have a death wish?!” I quietly retreated to my room, an ominous feeling settling in my chest. After New Year’s, Damian collapsed on the factory floor. The diagnosis: End-stage kidney failure. He needed a transplant. In the hospital corridor, the smell of disinfectant was pungent. I looked at Damian unconscious in the bed. He was so thin he looked skeletal, his hands covered in needle marks. Vivian sobbed into her hands, shoulders shaking. The attending physician was a family friend of the Palmers, Dr. Harrison, and he was blunt: “It’s best to have a close family member donate. Highest success rate, lowest rejection risk.” I almost blurted out: “Use mine.” Vivian’s head snapped up, eyes bloodshot. “No!” “Why not?” I was confused. “I’m his sister. The match rate would be high.” “I said no!” Her voice was shrill. “Claire, this isn’t your concern!” When Damian woke up, I brought it up again. His reaction was extreme. He nearly jumped out of the hospital bed: “Absolutely not! Claire, don’t even think about it!” “Why? You’re my br—” “Because I’m your brother!” He grabbed my hand with frightening strength. “Listen to me. Study hard, go to college. My situation…I’ll handle it myself.” “How will you handle it? Waiting for a donor could take forever! The doctor said your condition—” “Then I’ll wait!” He cut me off, his eyes more severe than I’d ever seen. “Claire, if you dare go behind my back to get tested, I will never forgive you. Ever.” I was scared by the determination in his eyes. What confused me more was Vivian’s attitude. Someone who hated me so much should be thrilled at the idea of me trading a kidney for her husband’s life. But this time, she stood firmly with Damian. I went to find Dr. Harrison, wanting to secretly get tested for compatibility. Dr. Harrison looked at me, hesitating: “Claire, your brother specifically told me…not to use you as a match.” “Why?” “He said…” Dr. Harrison sighed. “He said you’re not suitable.” “We haven’t even tested yet. How does he know I’m not suitable?” Dr. Harrison avoided my eyes. “Your brother said you were injured as a child. Your health isn’t good.” The excuse was too flimsy. I didn’t know anything about being unhealthy. I rarely even caught colds. But I was helpless. Damian and Vivian were like two walls, blocking me completely from the truth.

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My parents and sister Maya died when their yacht exploded at sea. There were no survivors. Staring at the empty house and mountains of debt, I was absolutely heartbroken and ready to jump off the roof when a flood of cruel comments suddenly appeared before my eyes: 【Your parents actually won $300 million in the lottery and took Maya overseas to live the high life.】 【Maya has no clue her poor, blind ex-boyfriend—the one she dumped—is actually Liam King, heir to the wealthy King family. He was just faking being poor with her.】 【When Maya blows through all the money and comes back, Liam King will be furious and lock her up to punish her.】 【Chloe, jump already! We’re waiting for Maya to get back.】 I suddenly changed my mind about dying. That night, soaked to the bone and drunk, I stumbled into Liam King’s apartment. After a wild night with Liam, I woke up with every muscle in my body sore. Liam opened his eyes right at that moment. He was blind. He’d lost his sight in a car crash six months earlier. My sister Maya had dumped him countless times, disgusted by his poverty and disability. But for a split second, I had this weird feeling he was staring straight at me. But just as quickly, his eyes went back to their usual empty, unfocused stare. He spoke in a rough, hoarse voice: “Maya, is that you?” The malicious comments surged again: 【What the hell? Chloe didn’t kill herself? How is she sleeping with Liam?】 【Unbelievable! Is she trying to impersonate Maya? Liam’s vision was restored ages ago. If she dares lie to him, she’ll regret it big time!】 So he could see this whole time. I bit my lip, trying to calm my racing heart, forcing helplessness into my voice: “No, I’m her sister, Chloe. My sister… she’s gone.” “Yesterday, I meant to bring you some of her things, but I got drunk and don’t remember anything after that.” Glancing at our torn clothes balled up on the floor, I looked away awkwardly. “Did you mistake me for Maya last night? I’m so sorry—I shouldn’t have drunk so much, but I was just so heartbroken.” “I’m all alone now, after all.” I let out soft, trembling sobs. The comments swirled: 【What an idiot! She’s still making excuses for Liam. Liam wasn’t really blind. Yesterday, when she threw herself at him soaking wet, I saw Liam react right away.】 【Any guy would react to a hot, wet girl throwing herself at him. This chick’s a total schemer, isn’t she?】 A slight tremor ran through my body. The thin blanket slipped off my shoulder, exposing red marks on my pale skin. Liam’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. After a long pause, he finally spoke: “I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else.” With teary eyes, I fumbled to wrap the torn clothes around myself. “In that case, let’s just forget this happened. I’ll leave now. Please don’t be upset.” I stood up, my legs wobbly, nearly collapsing. Liam reached out to steady me. The second his fingertips brushed my wrist, I flinched. The comments started again, spewing insults: 【Liam won’t be upset. He already knows Maya faked her death.】 【Even those debt collectors? He hired them. Pushing Chloe to suicide was his first warning to Maya.】 【Maya has no clue her spot’s been taken.】 【This is so frustrating! Chloe, just die already!】 I ducked my head and rushed out the door. When I got home, the debt collectors who’d been hanging around downstairs were gone. My heart dropped. They really were sent by Liam. I shut the door and collapsed onto the floor, completely drained. Every inch of my body ached. Of course, I hadn’t been drunk. Originally, when I was desperate, I just wanted to get a little sympathy from Liam, hoping he’d go easy on me. I never expected him to react so intensely, keeping me up all night. I curled my lips into a bitter smile. Liam had lost his eyesight in a car crash while saving Maya. But after he went blind and became “disabled,” Maya wouldn’t even look at him. She never answered his messages. She made him wait three hours in the freezing winter rain while she video-chatted with someone else upstairs. She hated his cheap gifts, tossing them in the trash right in front of him. I used to think he was wasting his time. But now, it seemed like it was all just some rich kid’s game.

The comments suddenly erupted into an argument for some reason: 【I think Maya made the right choice. Who doesn’t want a rich guy? Who’d want a boyfriend who’s both blind and broke? Even if Liam wanted to test her loyalty, playing games like this is totally unnecessary.】 【Let’s be real, Maya might be selfish, but she’s just lucky. Once she and Liam make up, she’ll become Mrs. King, and Liam will still spoil her rotten.】 【Exactly. Good girls finish last, bad girls get everything.】 Reading those comments, I thought they were completely ridiculous. Growing up, my parents always favored Maya over me. She stole my toys, my clothes, my scholarships. After I started working, I pulled all-nighters every day, and they’d take my paycheck to pay for Maya’s expensive dance lessons and designer stuff. They wanted me to prop her up, make sure she succeeded. Now they’d won $300 million in the lottery. Not only did they abandon me with mountains of debt, but they wanted to use my life to pave her way too. Why should she get everything while I die like a dog? Resentment coiled around my heart like a poisonous vine. I’d always picked up Maya’s leftovers anyway. Since Liam was one of her castoffs, I might as well take him and use him. My next run-in with Liam happened sooner than I expected. As I walked out of the hotel where I worked part-time, completely worn out, I looked up and saw Liam standing across the street. A cigarette hung from his lips, and a white cane leaned against his leg. The rich really have the strangest hobbies. Maya was gone, but Liam King was still keeping up his little act. Not far away, a guy seemed to recognize him and approached with a fake smile. I called out suddenly, “Liam!” I marched right over to him. Before he could say anything, I grabbed his wrist. “Come with me.” I spoke quickly, lowering my voice: “I saw someone suspicious approaching you. Probably debt collectors.” “My sister took out a huge loan before she left, and since you were her boyfriend, they’ll definitely come after you. You can’t see—you’ll be in danger.” “You got hurt saving my sister, so I’ll look out for you in her place.” “Don’t worry. As long as I’m around, I won’t let them hurt you.” “I’ll never leave you.” My voice was so sincere it almost sounded religious. “Will you trust me?” I don’t know what part of that got to him. Liam hesitated, then took a lazy step forward. He let me lead him, and I took him back to my place. And I kept my word, taking care of him like he was my own family. When his stomach acted up, I’d get up in the middle of the night to buy him medicine. Since he couldn’t see, I’d hold his hand and guide him to feel his way around, over and over until he knew where everything was. Even when I was starving myself, I’d spend every cent I had to take him to eye doctor appointments. Through it all, Liam would just look at me coldly, a hint of amusement sometimes flashing in his eyes. At the hospital, the doctor shook his head and said there was no improvement. I could barely hide my disappointment and heartache. Walking out of the exam room, Liam suddenly laughed bitterly: “I heard you sigh. Is this really worth it? You’re not the one who’s blind—why are you so upset?” I stopped and suddenly cupped his face in my hands. Liam’s eyes flickered with surprise, barely hidden. “You mean a lot to me,” I said, looking straight into his eyes. “So your pain hurts me too.” “You have such beautiful eyes. I won’t give up on them.”

Liam’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and he gave me a complicated look. My face showed how sad I was, but I forced a smile into my voice: “Honestly, I was thinking… if you could see again, I’d do anything.” When we got home, I dragged him inside with teary eyes. While pouring water, I accidentally spilled half the cup on myself. The thin fabric clung to my body when it got wet, showing off my curves. Liam’s expression changed. I noticed the subtle shift in his posture. Biting my lip, I pulled him close by his collar and kissed him first. Liam froze for a second before taking control of the kiss. The next morning, my body ached even more than the first time. I pushed through the discomfort and got up. Liam was already up. He tossed a necklace at me. “I picked this up at a street vendor a while back. It’s not worth much, but it’s pretty. For you.” The comments suddenly exploded: 【Unbelievable! How did Liam end up with this Chloe? Doesn’t he know Maya got tricked into gambling and is in real danger?!】 【Isn’t that the diamond Liam bought at the auction? Why’s he giving it to Chloe? It was supposed to be a peace offering for Maya after she flipped out about being locked up!】 【Are you crazy, Chloe?! How dare you go after Maya’s guy!】 I ignored the crazy comments, looking at the necklace in my hand with fake surprise. A diamond from an auction… That must be worth a fortune, right? If I sold it, would that set me up for life? Just then, new comments popped up: 【Relax, everyone! Can’t you see Liam’s just stringing Chloe along?】 【The King family head found out about his wild behavior this year and flipped, ordering him home immediately.】 【Liam’s worried Chloe will cling to him, so he’s putting on a whole show. He’ll hire guys to fake his kidnapping, then stage his death at sea right in front of her to crush her hopes completely.】 【Chloe’s such a lovesick fool! Can’t she tell Liam looks at her like she’s a stray dog?】 Liam was leaving? I tightened my grip on the diamond, suddenly feeling cheated. I’d played my part so well these days, and all I got was a lousy diamond. Meanwhile, Maya did nothing and would get everything just by coming back. That wasn’t fair. That afternoon, Liam said he needed to go out alone and told me not to follow. I knew exactly what he was up to. And I had my own plans too. I went to the pharmacy and bought a pregnancy test. Thinking about the recent changes in my body, my heart was racing. When I saw the two bright red lines on the test, I let out a huge sigh of relief. I still had an ace up my sleeve in this game. Just then, my phone rang. “Chloe, right? You don’t pay up, you pay the price. Liam’s with me now. If you don’t want him dead, get to this address.” When I got there, I saw Liam’s back. He was tied to the railing of an abandoned cargo ship, hands bound behind his back. The kidnapper gave me a evil grin: “I only gave you twenty minutes. You’re too late. His time’s up.” With that, he cut the rope right in front of me. Liam, still tied up, fell straight into the ocean. My eyes went wide. The next second, I ran forward without thinking. I jumped in. The water was freezing, and my vision started to blur. Through the haze, I saw the “Liam” figure untie himself and swim smoothly toward shore. I scoffed to myself. Liam’s hired double wasn’t very convincing. But I still jumped in without hesitation. Because I was gambling on a possibility. Betting my life on it. I gambled that I would win.

The water was so cold I quickly lost strength, sinking slowly toward the ocean floor. Just as I thought I’d lost the bet, someone gasped and dove into the water. I forced my eyes open. The last thing I saw was Liam’s panicked face—a look I’d never seen on him before. When I came to in the hospital, my whole body felt icy cold to the bone. I heard the doctor scolding Liam beside me. “Do you realize she’s pregnant? And you took her to a place like that! What kind of boyfriend are you?” “Thankfully the baby’s okay, but she’s severely malnourished. If you want this child, you need to take better care of her!” Liam didn’t argue. He turned to look at my unconscious form, his expression complicated: “Chloe, do you really love me that much? You’d risk your life to save mine?” And just then, I opened my eyes. Our eyes met for two seconds before I quickly looked away. My voice was weak but steady: “Doctor, I want to terminate the pregnancy.” Liam’s eyes sharpened: “What did you say?” I turned my head away: “This baby shouldn’t be born. I’m getting rid of it.” “Your eyes have been fine for a long time. Why did you lie to me? Since you don’t need me anymore, I’ll leave on my own.” “If you don’t want me, just say so. I’m not the type to beg.” Liam opened his mouth: “That’s not what I meant.” He stared at my pale face like he was making up his mind. “Chloe, have the baby. We’ll get married.” “I’m not marrying you.” I sniffled and looked away, my voice dropping with disappointment. “Besides, we can’t even afford to raise a baby right now. Why bring a child into this to suffer with us?” After a few seconds of silence, my phone pinged with a text. Bank account deposit: $5,000,000. Liam walked over and put his hand on my stomach. “I promise he won’t want for anything.” I pretended to be shocked as he told me everything. No one saw my hand under the blanket, shaking slightly with excitement. I won the bet! I moved into Liam’s mansion. Liam was even richer than I imagined—even the decorations were worth more than I’d make in a lifetime. With the staff taking such good care of me, I had a healthy baby boy a few months later. Liam’s parents were hesitant about me at first, but their attitude changed completely when they saw their chubby little grandson smiling at them. They gave me $100 million just for pocket money. Our son had multiple properties in his name from birth, all managed by me. I checked my bank balance and smiled—this was better than I could have dreamed. When our son was seven months old, I went back to my old house to sort through some things. As I walked out, someone suddenly grabbed my hair and slapped me hard across the face. “Where the hell have you been! Do you know how long we’ve been looking for you?!” It was my mother. Her hair was a mess, her face dirty, and she was glaring at me like I was her enemy. Behind her were Maya and my father, both looking just as disheveled and pathetic. Maya checked me out from head to toe, shock and jealousy written all over her face. She suddenly stepped forward, linking her arm through mine with a fake smile: “Chloe, did you land yourself a rich boyfriend?” “You got lucky, unlike me—always stuck with poor, blind losers. Good thing I dumped that one ages ago.” “Now that we’ve survived this whole mess, why don’t you introduce us to your new man?” She ran her hand over my expensive designer bag, practically drooling. I knew exactly what she was up to—she wanted to steal from me again. That’s how it had always been, ever since we were kids. My cheek burned from the slap. I looked past them. Liam had just parked the car and was walking over—he’d heard every word. I smirked: “No need. He’s right here.”

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Everyone knew how much Julian Sterling loved me. He started a film and television company just for me and proposed to me live on a global awards show. But then, my mother was diagnosed with late-stage kidney disease. Julian found a donor named Briar, but on the day of the surgery, she was “in a car accident.” I watched him carry a seemingly injured Briar, whose forehead only had a small scrape, out of the hospital. “She’s scared. Let’s reschedule the surgery.” My mother flatlined on the operating table. At that very moment, Julian was in bed with Briar at her place. I signed the divorce papers and left for Finland. Yet, there he was, covered in snow, standing outside my door. “I gave her back her kidney. Please, come home.” I turned toward the kitchen. “Leo, could you take out the trash by the door?” Scarlett POV Everyone knew how much Julian Sterling loved me. As CEO of the Sterling Group, when I said I wanted to be an actress, he poured a fortune into building a film and television company just for me. He poached the industry’s top talent at premium rates and soon became celebrated in elite circles as the ultimate devoted husband. Later, I achieved my dream, winning the coveted Actress of the Year award. At the globally televised awards ceremony, he got down on one knee in front of all the cameras, pulling out a custom-made diamond ring, and proposed to me with heartfelt devotion. From then on, I gradually stepped back from the spotlight and settled into my role as his full-time wife. For three years after our marriage, our relationship was seen by the outside world as the perfect example of enduring love. Until one day, my adoptive mother, Martha, was suddenly diagnosed with end-stage kidney disease in both kidneys. Her life depended on a kidney transplant. Julian offered a hefty reward and found us a highly compatible kidney donor-Briar. But on the day of the surgery, she was nowhere to be found. I was practically frantic, dialing her number dozens of times before the call finally went through. “Briar! Where are you?” My voice trembled beyond my control. “We agreed on the surgery for today! Why are you-” Her voice on the other end was weak and shaky. “I’m so sorry, Ms. Scarlett, I… I got into a car accident on my way over…” I froze. “A car accident?” She sniffled softly. “I’m hurt, so I might not be able to donate my kidney. Can the surgery be rescheduled?” Before I could even answer, a deep male voice, one I knew all too well, suddenly came from her phone. “Okay, stop crying. Reschedule it is. I’ll take you home to rest first.” It was Julian. The call was abruptly disconnected. Listening to the dial tone, I stood rooted to the spot. Like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head, my mind went completely blank. The doctor beside me asked anxiously, “Ms. Scarlett, how much longer until the donor arrives? Your mother has already been moved into the operating room; her condition is critical, we really can’t delay any longer.” I snapped back to reality, my face pale. “Please wait, I’ll go get her right now.” I practically stumbled out of the corridor. Soon, on the other side of the hospital, I saw Julian. He was carrying Briar, emerging from the emergency trauma department. The man who usually only held me, was now, in a public place, holding another woman in his arms. Briar had a bandage on her forehead and was leaning against his chest, her voice soft. “Mr. Sterling, aren’t you getting tired holding me? Maybe you should put me down, I can walk.” “Aren’t you dizzy? The doctor said you have a slight concussion. It’s safer if I carry you.” He looked down at her, his tone gentle in a way I’d never heard before. I stood not far away, completely frozen. My chest felt like it had been pierced sharply. And the “car accident” she’d claimed? It had only left a slight scrape on her forehead. Other than that, she had no obvious injuries. Then, I heard her speak hesitantly. “But… I promised Ms. Scarlett I’d donate my kidney today. Now I can’t go through with the surgery, I’m worried she might get angry…” Julian’s tone was calm. “You had an accident, it’s unavoidable. If the surgery is delayed a bit, she won’t blame you.” She looked up at him, her eyes slightly red, her hands resting on his shoulders. “Mr. Sterling, I’m actually really scared of the surgery. Just thinking about having a kidney removed from my body, I just…” Julian paused, then said, “If you’re truly scared and don’t want to donate, I’ll find another suitable kidney donor for her mother as quickly as possible during this time.” “Really?” “Of course.” Just as I saw him carrying Briar towards the elevator, I finally snapped out of my shock. I rushed over, my voice out of control as I shouted: “Julian! The doctor said Mom can’t wait any longer! Briar has to go in for the kidney transplant right now, immediately!”

Scarlett POV I don’t know if Julian heard me call out to him. The elevator doors slowly closed before my eyes. He stood inside, holding Briar, without looking back, without reaching out to stop them. The numbers on the elevator display steadily dropped. I didn’t waste a second, turning and rushing down the emergency stairwell to the underground parking lot. But by the time I got there, I only saw his car speeding out of the exit, disappearing into the distance. He just left with Briar. Completely disregarding my mother, who was currently lying on the operating table, and me. A chill spread from the depths of my heart. I couldn’t stop trembling, my fingers stiff as I fumbled for my phone and dialed Julian’s number. The phone rang twice, then was abruptly hung up. I dialed several more times. This time, only a cold, robotic voice answered: “The subscriber you have dialed is unavailable.” Unavailable. I couldn’t believe it. Not only was he not answering my calls, he had deliberately turned off his phone. The person lying on the operating table was my mother. I dragged my jelly-like legs back to the operating room waiting area, my throat so dry I could barely speak. “The person who promised to donate can’t make it,” I told the doctor. “Is there really… no other suitable kidney donor at the hospital?” The doctor shook his head. “I’m sorry, Ms. Scarlett, currently there isn’t.” “What about mine?” The doctor looked at me, his voice cautious and objective. “You and your mother are not biological relations. We already did compatibility tests, and it wasn’t a match. Even if you were willing to donate, it couldn’t be used.” I was an orphan. Mom adopted me from a foster home, raising me little by little. All these years, she treated me like her own daughter, never mistreating me. My only wish was to one day earn a lot of money and repay her properly. But now, I couldn’t even find a suitable kidney for her. My throat tightened, I could barely form a complete sentence. “Doctor… can you find a way to keep her going for a few more days…” Before I could finish, the operating room door suddenly opened from the inside. A nurse walked out, her expression solemn. “I’m so sorry, Ms. Scarlett.” “We’ve done everything we could, but your mother… flatlined a minute ago.” In that instant, my world shattered. Everything went black. I couldn’t stand anymore, collapsing directly onto the cold floor. After that, I don’t remember much. I moved like a numb automaton, mechanically signing all the paperwork, and sending Mom for her final arrangements. “Mom, I’m so sorry…” “I was useless…” My chest felt like a vital piece of my soul had been ripped out, the pain making it almost impossible to breathe. Clutching Mom’s urn, I returned home in a daze. The moment I collapsed onto the bed, my eyes, which hadn’t closed for days, finally gave out. I fell into a fitful sleep, punctuated by sobs. In my dream, I kept returning to the year I turned twenty. Back then, Julian hadn’t taken over the family business yet. And I was just an unknown extra, trying to make it in the industry. That day, we were filming a scene involving a high fall. The safety harness suddenly malfunctioned, and I plummeted five meters straight down. The anticipated pain never came. I landed in a warm, strong embrace. Looking up, I met a pair of deep, captivating eyes. Julian Sterling. The scion of a powerful, well-known dynasty. He held me, looking down at my panicked expression, a light laugh in his voice. “Good thing I caught you. Otherwise, that fall would have caused quite a bit of trouble.” It was from that day on that he began to pursue me. He appeared on set again and again, sharing the most ordinary crew meals with me. I casually mentioned wanting to see the Northern Lights, and he arranged everything, taking me on a trip. Because I said I didn’t like the smell of smoke, he actually quit smoking. Later, he established a film company that served only me. Against his family’s objections, he insisted on marrying me, a woman with no background. The media called our wedding the “Wedding of the Century.” In front of everyone, he held my hand and said: “Scarlett, in this life, I will only ever love you.” But it had only been three years. Yet, because Briar was afraid of losing a kidney, He abandoned my critically ill mother.

Scarlett POV When exactly did Julian start falling for Briar? I vaguely recalled that when Briar first appeared, she was almost identical to how I had been back then. Also a fledgling actress, just starting in the entertainment industry, with no real name for herself. She was young, with the same innocent, clear eyes I’d once had. To thank her for agreeing to donate her kidney, Julian established a dedicated studio team for her, arranged for her to live in a luxurious house, and personally accompanied her for medical check-ups and health consultations. Later, he even started taking her to private dinners. He would interrupt important meetings because of a single message from her. He would meticulously pay attention to her diet, her sleep schedule, and her emotional state. I wasn’t oblivious; I had asked him. “Don’t you think you’re paying too much attention to Briar?” “Are you… falling for her?” That time, he was visibly displeased. “What are you talking about?” he said. “I’m only taking care of her so she can rest and recover, to donate her kidney. Don’t overthink things.” For the sake of my mother’s condition, I didn’t press the issue. I could only choose silence, enduring his care for Briar, which had long crossed the line of normalcy. I thought that if I just endured it, my mother’s kidney source would be secured. But in the end, this was the outcome I got. Over the next few days, Julian never showed up. He did send me a message: “Briar got into a car accident, and her emotions are a bit unstable. Let’s put the kidney donation on hold for now. I’ll take her out to clear her head for a while. Take care of yourself and your mother.” I looked at that message, then down at the urn in my arms, a cynical laugh escaping me. He still didn’t know that my mother was gone. And no longer needed anyone’s kidney. But then again, why would he? He clearly didn’t plan on letting Briar donate anymore anyway. I didn’t reply to him. Instead, I privately contacted the relevant personnel and chose a quiet, suitable burial place for my mother. From the final arrangements to the burial, I didn’t inform anyone. Five days passed by the time everything was done. That day, I opened my social media. The first post on my feed was from Briar. It was a photo of her and Julian at a ski resort. In the picture, her head rested naturally on his shoulder, and the expression on his face was one of gentle softness I hadn’t seen in a long time. The caption read: “Mr. Sterling brought me out to relax. The trauma from the car accident has faded so much. So happy!” I stared at that photo, feeling my heart being pierced by countless tiny needles, making it almost impossible to breathe. I exited the page and dialed another number. The call connected, and the voice on the other end was cold. “Scarlett? Why are you calling me?” “Mrs. Sterling,” I said calmly, “haven’t you always thought I wasn’t good enough for Julian? Well, now, I agree to leave him, to divorce him.” There was silence on the other end for a few seconds. “What made you suddenly see sense?” They had always despised my humble background. In their eyes, being an actress, a celebrity, was nothing more than an undignified profession. Even if I had won the highest honors, and later completely left the industry for Julian, learning the lifestyle they approved of, the Sterling family had never truly accepted me. If Julian hadn’t insisted on marrying me back then, I would never have set foot in that house. “Mrs. Sterling,” I didn’t explain why, but continued, “you must have a way for Julian and me to end this marriage quietly, right?” She seemed to understand something, her tone immediately lightening. “This is your decision to divorce, so don’t say I forced you later.” I replied, “Don’t worry, it’s my choice.” “Good,” she said, “I’ll have someone send you the divorce papers tomorrow. Sign them, and once the process is complete, your marriage will be over.” “Understood.” She added, “Remember, once the paperwork is done, never appear before Julian again.” I gripped my phone, silently answering in my heart. I wouldn’t. More than anyone, I hoped to have no further ties with Julian Sterling in this lifetime.

Scarlett POV The next day, Mrs. Sterling sent someone to the house with the divorce papers. I carefully read through all the clauses, found nothing unfavorable to me, and signed my name without hesitation. “Then I won’t disturb your rest.” The butler took the agreement, placed it in a file folder, and turned to leave the mansion. He had just reached the door when he met Julian, who was driving back. Whenever someone from the family came over, it was rarely for a good reason. Julian saw the butler, and his face immediately darkened. “Is my mother bothering Scarlett again?” His tone was clearly displeased. “Go back and tell her that as long as I’m here, anyone who dares to secretly cause trouble for Scarlett is going against me.” In the past, every time I was targeted or bullied, he would stand in front of me like that. And back then, I truly loved him, couldn’t bear to leave. So no matter what cold treatment or injustice I received, I chose to endure it. But this time, it was different. The butler stood there, looking somewhat awkward. I calmly intervened for him. “No one’s bothering me. He just came to drop something off.” Julian frowned, looking at me. “Drop something off?” I nodded, gesturing to the butler. “You can go back.” “Alright.” After the butler’s car left, Julian looked back at me, still with a hint of suspicion. “What did he give you?” I managed a slight smile. “Nothing important.” If he had returned five minutes earlier, he would have known what that “something” was. Unfortunately, he came back too late. I didn’t want him to press further, so I changed the subject. “Didn’t you go out to relax with Briar? When did you get back?” His attention was indeed diverted. He looked at me, testing the waters. “Still angry?” I didn’t answer. His tone softened. “These past few days, you’ve been alone at the hospital taking care of your mother. It must have been hard. I apologize, okay?” Apologize? He suddenly took my hand. “I heard a new restaurant opened. I’ve already made reservations. Let’s go grab something to eat.” Without waiting for my response, he pulled me out the door. Only when the car stopped did I realize that Briar was already waiting in the restaurant. She sat at the table, saw us, and smiled, raising her hand to wave. “Mr. Sterling, Ms. Scarlett, over here.” My steps faltered, and I instinctively looked at the man beside me. Julian then explained. “This restaurant’s food is supposedly good for post-operative recovery, so I brought Briar to try it out first. If it’s suitable, after her donation, we can arrange meals here for her and your mother.” After the surgery. How ironic. But my mother had already been cremated and buried. And he, to this day, was completely oblivious, still bringing Briar here to sample so-called “nourishing meals.” I only felt a bitter irony. But I said nothing, letting him lead me to the table. He ordered a whole spread of dishes. He picked up a piece of pan-fried fish and placed it in her bowl. “I checked; this fish is high in protein and low in fat, easy on the body. Eat more.” Briar’s face flushed slightly, and she obediently replied, “Okay.” Julian smiled, then served a bowl of soup and pushed it in front of her. “This soup is good for recovery. Try it and see how it tastes.” She took a sip, her eyes lighting up. “It’s really delicious.” “You’re too thin. Eat more.” A smile on his lips, he kept serving her food. Almost every dish on the table was for body recovery. I sat there quietly, watching the tenderness in his eyes as he looked at Briar. That kind of gaze once belonged only to me. Including his current focus, patience, and thoughtfulness-they were once exclusively mine. But now, he gave all of it to another woman. Briar seemed afraid I would misunderstand, and explained softly, “Ms. Scarlett, please don’t overthink it. Mr. Sterling is only being kind to me to ensure I’m in the best possible condition to donate my kidney to your mother.” I lowered my gaze, a cold, indifferent curve on my lips.

Scarlett POV I could barely eat that meal. After a few bites, I put down my cutlery, made an excuse about going to the restroom, and temporarily left the table. When I returned after nearly ten minutes in the restroom, Julian was no longer at the table. Briar spoke up. “Mr. Sterling went out to take a call. He said something urgent came up at the company.” I pursed my lips, offering no response. She studied me, then suddenly chuckled. “Ms. Scarlett, Mr. Sterling is so good to me, and you don’t mind at all?” In the past, I certainly would have minded. And I suffered for it for a long time. But now, I was about to leave Julian. What was there left to mind? I sat back down calmly. “Didn’t you say he’s only being good to you to keep you in shape to donate your kidney to my mother?” “Do you really believe that?” Briar laughed out loud, her words loaded with obvious insinuation. “Mr. Sterling has already fallen for me. You can’t possibly not see that.” I gave a faint, cynical smile. “Is that so?” “Mr. Sterling told me you’re too cold,” her voice held undisguised triumph. “Spending time with you is like being with a block of ice, utterly boring.” “Unlike me, I’m young, vibrant, and always bring him new excitement.” Cold. Like a block of ice. My heart stung faintly. Just as I was about to speak, our phones chimed almost simultaneously. It was a message from Julian: “I’m waiting for you downstairs. Come down.” Briar glanced at it, picked up her bag, and stood. We left the restaurant together. In the elevator, it was just the two of us. She didn’t seem ready to stop, continuing, “Ms. Scarlett, do you know what Mr. Sterling told me the day I had the car accident?” I closed my eyes, not looking at her, simply waiting for the elevator to descend. She went on. “He said, if I didn’t want to donate…” Before she could finish, the elevator jolted violently. Then, after a brief pause, it began to plummet rapidly. A powerful sense of freefall instantly overwhelmed me. Briar shrieked. “What’s happening?!” “Back against the wall, knees bent!” I was closer to the control panel, instinctively pressing all floor buttons and the emergency call button. In less than a few seconds, the elevator jolted to a violent halt mid-descent. A voice crackled over the intercom. “Please remain calm and do not move. Rescue personnel are on their way.” “I’m so scared!” Briar’s voice was hysterical. “Help me! I don’t want to die!” No sooner had she spoken than the elevator shook violently again. Screams filled the confined space. My palms were drenched in cold sweat. I dared not think what would happen if the elevator continued to fall. Soon, urgent, chaotic sounds came from outside. Julian’s voice vaguely reached us from outside. “Scarlett? Are you two in there?” Briar immediately cried out, “Mr. Sterling, save me! I’m so scared!” “Don’t worry, rescue is here.” The staff’s voice sounded again. “The equipment malfunction hasn’t been completely resolved. The elevator could fall again at any moment. We can only get one person out first.” The air suddenly went silent. Just a few seconds, yet it stretched like an eternity. “Briar is timid. Get her out first.” Julian’s voice came through. In that instant, I felt completely frozen. So, in a life-or-death situation, the answer was still so clear. Rescue personnel pried open the elevator doors, creating a gap just wide enough for one person to squeeze through. Julian rushed forward and pulled Briar out. She collapsed into his arms, trembling all over, sobbing uncontrollably. “It was so horrible… I was really terrified…” “It’s okay, it’s okay now.” He patted her back, just about to instruct the rescuers to continue- The elevator suddenly vibrated violently again. The next second, a powerful sense of freefall returned. The elevator plummeted. I felt a dizzying disorientation, my heart seemingly stopping at that very moment. “Scarlett!” Julian’s shout was completely swallowed by the rapid descent.

Scarlett POV When I woke up, looking at the stark white ceiling, I briefly thought I had arrived in the afterlife. Until Julian’s joyful voice came from beside me. “Scarlett, you’re awake?” My consciousness slowly returned. I turned my head and found Julian sitting by the hospital bed. “How are you feeling now? Is there anything that’s especially uncomfortable?” His tone was gentle, and he reached out to touch my forehead, but I instinctively turned my head, avoiding his touch. His hand paused in mid-air, then slowly retracted. “I’m sorry, Scarlett,” he said. “The situation was so urgent then. Briar is timid, and I pulled her out first because I was afraid she’d panic too much in the elevator and do something dangerous, making the situation even more uncontrollable…” I only felt a bitter irony. Pain rippled through every inch of my body, yet it still couldn’t compare to the distinct, twisting ache in my chest. Seeing that I hadn’t spoken, he continued to explain. “Besides, she was going to donate her kidney to your mother. She couldn’t suffer any accidents, which is why I saved her first.” “Julian,” I finally spoke, my voice hoarse. “Did you really save her just because she was going to donate her kidney to my mother?” He froze. After a brief silence, he said, “Of course. What else could it be?” I didn’t press further. I closed my eyes, not wanting to speak anymore. His voice was filled with remorse. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t expect the elevator to start plummeting right after I got her out, causing you to get hurt… If I had known, I would have saved you first.” But even with those words, I felt no comfort. Perhaps out of guilt, for the next few days, whenever he wasn’t working, he stayed by my side in the hospital. But he was always distracted. His phone was practically glued to his hand, as he replied to messages one after another. Each time he looked down at the screen, his voice would soften noticeably, even carrying an unconscious smile. He was so engrossed that he didn’t even hear me when I said I was thirsty. I didn’t need to look to know he wasn’t handling work. He was chatting with Briar. Because that expression, I knew it too well. It was almost identical to when he was pursuing me. A little over a week later, I was discharged from the hospital. The day I was discharged happened to be the Sterling family’s annual gathering. Every year around this time, they would return to the Sterling family estate, and we were no exception. Just as the car pulled up to the entrance, his phone suddenly rang. He glanced at the screen and answered. “What’s wrong?” “Mr. Sterling.” Briar’s tearful voice came from the other end. “It’s thundering. I’m so scared. Can you… can you come stay with me?” He looked up at the sky outside. Dark clouds gathered, and thunder rumbled across the sky, as if a heavy storm could break out at any moment. Then, he looked at me, hesitating for a moment, and said, “I’m sorry, Scarlett, something urgent came up at the company, and I need to go deal with it. You’ll be alone…” I lowered my eyes, not looking at him. In the past, he never felt comfortable leaving me alone at these family gatherings. Because he knew very well they didn’t like me, and only with him present would I avoid being deliberately targeted. But this time, I didn’t expose his excuse. I just calmly said, “Go ahead.” He seemed relieved, reaching out to ruffle my hair. “I’ll finish up quickly and come back. Wait for me.” I got out of the car and stood there, watching his car quickly disappear into the night. At the gathering, apart from Victoria Sterling, who already knew about my impending divorce from Julian and no longer bothered me, everyone else still gave me the cold shoulder. They despised my humble background. From beginning to end, they barely gave me a kind look, their words laced with sarcasm. And that night, Julian never returned. He only sent me a message mid-way: “Still busy, can’t leave.” Looking at that message, I felt my heart completely turn to ice. After the gathering, no one cared for me. It was hard to get a cab in that area, so in the end, I walked for four whole hours alone before finally getting back to my place. That night, having just been discharged, I developed a high fever again and completely passed out. Julian called a doctor to the house, who gave me an IV drip to bring down the fever. When I groggily woke up, the first words he said to me weren’t an apology, but a reproach. “Why didn’t you have the staff arrange a car for you? Why didn’t you wait for me to pick you up, instead of walking back in the rain and getting yourself like this?” For a moment, I wondered if I had misheard him. I looked at him, drained. “Are you saying I deliberately walked back in the rain and made myself sick?” He knew they didn’t like me. And he hadn’t shown up until after the gathering was over. But now, he was blaming me. “Fine, I was just worried about you,” he sighed. “The company was genuinely busy that day. I couldn’t get away in time to pick you up. I’m sorry.” All I felt was a wave of utter exhaustion. In that moment, I finally understood what it meant for a heart to truly die. Julian, I will never love you again.

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My husband Liam was a Special Forces captain. My best friend was a military doctor. They didn’t get along at first. I was the one who brought them together. Five months into my pregnancy, I found a heavy metal box at home. Inside, I found a stack of wills he’d written before every dangerous mission. As I opened them, a chilling dread washed over me. Seven hundred and thirty-two letters in total. Every single one started with, “My Dearest Chloe.” And every single one ended with, “I love you, Chloe.” Chloe. Not some stranger, but my best friend. I knelt amidst the scattered pages, my fingertips trembling so violently I couldn’t even grip a single sheet. Tears streamed down my face, blurring the words on the paper. “Chloe, make sure you have an extra slice of that apple pie from the west side tonight. You know the one you love.” “Chloe, I’m sorry to make you sad again.” “Chloe, after I die, please scatter my ashes under the old oak tree, so I can always watch over you.” The old oak tree. Our old oak tree. The devastating news of my parents’ deaths arrived when I was eight. I curled up in a corner of our home, crying until no sound came out. Liam and Chloe, one on each side, stubbornly held my hands and led me away from the house. We ran to the old oak tree on the back hill, the one that had stood there for who knows how many years. Tears still stained Chloe’s face, but she raised three fingers, pointing at the trunk, her voice choked but incredibly clear. “I swear, from now on, I’ll protect Alice for her mom and dad for the rest of my life! No one is allowed to bully her!” Liam immediately mimicked her, his face serious, his voice even louder. “Me too! I’ll protect Alice for the rest of my life! Even longer than you!” And they did. My world felt safe and bright because they were in it. My baby, sensing my turmoil, kicked uneasily within me. I instinctively clutched my belly, but my fingertips brushed against the scattered letters on the floor. My vision blurred again. I futilely tried to shove the letters back into the box. But my hands wouldn’t obey, just clawing at them aimlessly. Each letter felt like a burning ember, scalding my insides, making my stomach churn with agony. I don’t know how much time passed, but eventually, I leaned back against the wall, utterly drained, soaked in cold sweat. Footsteps drew closer from outside, accompanied by their familiar bickering. Chloe’s voice, bright and clear, carried her usual disdain for Liam. “Liam, slow down! You’re always so rushed. You nearly dropped the apple pie! Buying two wasn’t enough, you had to clear out the whole store?” Liam’s voice was deep, laced with his usual impatience. “What do you know? Alice’s cravings are unpredictable these days. What’s wrong with buying extra? What if she suddenly wants some?” The door opened. Chloe peeked her head in first. Seeing me on the floor, she rushed over, reaching out to help me up. “Why are you sitting on the floor? Pregnant women shouldn’t be sitting on the cold floor. Come on, up you go!” Liam also hurried over, feeling my forehead with one hand while steadying me with the other. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell somewhere?” I let them both help me up. Chloe was the first to notice my puffy, red eyes. She pressed urgently. “Why are your eyes so swollen? Did Liam upset you? Tell me. I’ll make him pay!” Liam shot her an irritated look. “Chloe, don’t be ridiculous. I adore my wife. I’d never hurt her!” He turned back to me, his hands cradling my face gently, eyes full of concern. “Honey, what is it?” “Who upset you?” “Or is it your stomach? I’ll take you to the hospital now.”

The concern in their eyes wasn’t fake in the slightest. Chloe’s eyes were even red-rimmed. But when Liam’s hand brushed my cheek, and he asked me so tenderly, I clearly saw a fleeting flicker of heartbreak and forced composure in Chloe’s eyes. I never noticed it before. Now, it was so glaringly obvious. The cold words from the letters crashed into my mind again. “Chloe, I’m going to propose to Alice tomorrow.” “I know this is selfish, and unfair to you. But Alice… she needs me more. She’s too lonely.” “And you, Chloe, you will always be the one I love most, my best comrade, the one I can trust with my life.” “If there’s a next life, I promise I’ll marry you.” At the end of the letter, there was a dark, irregular stain. Like the mark of dried tears. That must have been tears. I once believed marrying Liam was the greatest fortune of my life. I thought his kindness was genuine, born of love for me. I never imagined it was all just a cruel act of pity. How benevolent, yet how utterly ruthless. A strong, metallic tang rose in my throat, which I frantically swallowed down. I doubled over, dry-heaving violently. But nothing came up, only cold, sour bile burning my esophagus. My baby seemed startled, kicking even harder. A tearing, dull pain erupted from my lower abdomen, swiftly engulfing my entire body. “Alice!” “Honey!” Chaos. A blur of motion. Liam’s arms, holding me, were rigid as iron. Chloe’s sobbing voice drifted in and out. A warm dampness spread beneath me. The cold hallway of the military hospital, stark white lights flashing across my vision. I don’t know how long passed before the doctor removed his gloves. “I’m sorry, the fetal heartbeat has stopped. Sudden, severe intrauterine distress, leading to violent contractions… we couldn’t save the baby.” The baby. Couldn’t save. Those three words, so light and airy, yet they sucked the last shred of strength and warmth from my body. Chloe’s and Liam’s voices, broken with grief, echoed in my ears. “Honey, it’s okay… we’ll have a second, a third baby later.” “Yes, Alice, don’t be scared. Once you’ve recovered, you’ll have another one.” They sounded so pained, so genuine. I just lay there, my eyes open, my mind replaying not the words on the letters, but much older memories.

Back in high school, when I innocently started to realize my feelings for Liam had grown beyond friendship, I told Chloe everything, without reservation. Chloe froze for a second, then her face contorted with pure disdain. “Alice, why would you ever like him?” “He’s completely beneath you.” After that, Chloe couldn’t stand Liam even more, and they practically fell into a silent standoff. The day Liam and I officially became a couple, Chloe got into a fight with him. Her eyes were red from crying, but she refused to say anything. Later, Liam went to military academy, and Chloe went to medical school. They both joined the military, and Chloe became the squad’s medic. Because my body couldn’t adapt to the rigorous military environment. Chloe held my hand and said, “Alice, don’t worry, I’ll keep a close eye on Liam for you.” Then, when Liam proposed to me, Chloe cried uncontrollably at our wedding. She grabbed Liam’s collar, her voice choked but fierce. “Liam, if you ever dare to treat Alice badly, I’ll come after you first.” Liam, uncharacteristically, didn’t talk back. He just looked at her trembling lips, his eyes red, and whispered, “Okay.” From then on, Liam’s attitude towards her subtly shifted. When Chloe snapped at him, most of the time he just listened. Sometimes he would even indulge her whims, saying, “You’re always right.” The day I found out I was pregnant, Chloe cried again. That night, she drank a lot of wine, crying as she drank. She said, “Alice, I’m so happy for you. You’re going to be a mom…” “I probably won’t ever get married in this life. From now on, your child will be my child.” “Alice… I really envy you…” She was incoherent, but I just thought she was drunk. Later, Liam walked her home. He was gone for a long time. When he returned, his eyes were red-rimmed, and his lip was busted. He said it was too dark downstairs, and he accidentally ran into a wall. And Chloe was never one to cry easily. But it seemed that whenever it involved Liam and me, her tears flowed effortlessly. Once I asked her, “Chloe, all these years, have you really never liked anyone?” She suddenly looked up, quickly glanced at Liam, and smiled. “Yes, I have. I recently started liking a younger guy. I’ll bring him to meet you sometime.” As soon as Chloe said that, the glass in Liam’s hand clattered to the floor. And that younger guy? I never saw him again. So, everything, everything had been there all along. I just never saw, or didn’t want to see. Now, they knelt by my bedside, heartbroken beyond words. I looked at their two faces, drenched in tears, etched with pain. And suddenly, even breathing felt cold. Finally, I simply closed my eyes and said, “I’m tired.”

Late that night, Liam and Chloe left the room. I opened my eyes, got out of bed, and followed them. At the end of the hallway, Liam pulled Chloe into a comforting embrace, soothing her softly. “It’s okay, don’t be so sad.” His hand stroked her back with a practiced tenderness, full of raw concern. Chloe’s face was buried in his shoulder, her shoulders shaking subtly. “But… the baby…” Her voice was fragmented. “Alice… she loved that baby so much…” “If I hadn’t insisted you come with me to the west side to watch the sunrise today, to watch that movie, to buy those warm donuts from that artisanal bakery…” “It’s not your fault, this was an accident. No one wanted this.” Liam cut her off, pressing his chin into her hair. That intimate gesture made my stomach churn once more. Earlier that morning, Liam had said he had a small mission and Chloe needed to go with him. His tone was normal; he even tucked me in carefully, telling me to rest more. I’d seen the bloodshot veins in his eyes and just thought he was tired, worrying about his safety. How could I have doubted them? They were my husband and my most trusted best friend. My unwavering trust, how utterly laughable it seemed now. Chloe looked up, tear tracks glistening in the dim light. “Liam, I suddenly feel so guilty towards Alice. She’s your wife.” Liam looked at her, his eyes brimming with emotions so thick they almost spilled over. It was pain, tenderness, and torment-all tangled into a gaze reserved for one person, a gaze that had never, not once, settled on me with such profound intensity. “Chloe, don’t think like that,” his voice was hoarse. “I’m the one who’s sorry.” “As for Alice… I’ll take care of her.” A deeper pain and self-reproach flickered in Chloe’s eyes. She opened her mouth, then buried her face in his embrace once more. And I stood there, in the shadows. Watching my husband and my best friend. Comforting each other in their shared grief, on the very night I lost my child. It turned out the deepest pain wasn’t their deception. It was the unspoken, bone-deep connection and anguish between them. That shared, secret world that completely shut me out. I didn’t disturb them. I just slowly, step by step, retreated back to my hospital room. The next day, Chloe’s eyes were still swollen, but she’d already put on an expression of disdain. She picked apart Liam’s porridge for being too hot, and the side dishes for being too salty. Liam frowned, refuting her occasionally. But neither of them mentioned the baby. If it had been before, seeing them like this, I would have felt relieved, felt happy. But now, I leaned against the headboard, watching them in silence. Every deliberately averted gaze. Every unnatural pause. Every raised voice, meant to cover their guilt-ridden arguments. They were like countless tiny needles, piercing my heart. I grew silent. All day, I either stared blankly out the window or closed my eyes, pretending to sleep. Talking required strength. Dealing with them required energy. And all my strength and energy had drained away with the tiny life I would never meet.

On my birthday, they tried to cheer me up. They took me to that old restaurant, my favorite childhood spot. They ordered a table full of my favorite dishes. Liam sat beside me, blowing on a spoonful of soup to cool it for me, his actions still meticulously gentle. Chloe took two sips, then her face suddenly paled. She clapped a hand over her mouth, shot up, and rushed out. Liam practically sprang to his feet on instinct. A clear, undeniable panic flashed across his face. His steps were already directed towards the door, but then he stopped halfway. As if remembering something, he turned to look at me. “Alice,” his voice was a little dry, “I’ll go check on Chloe. You eat first.” In the past, I would have rushed to check on Chloe myself. But this time, I didn’t even look up, just gave a faint nod. My gaze settled on the bowl of chicken soup Chloe had been drinking. He immediately turned and walked out quickly. I sat quietly for a moment, then got up and followed him out. From the old restaurant’s back garden, I heard Chloe’s trembling voice. “Liam, I… I think… I’m pregnant…” “What do I do…” “How can I be pregnant with your child? You’re Alice’s husband, and I’m Alice’s best friend…” Liam reached out, gripping Chloe’s arm tightly, his voice low and strained. “Chloe, look at me. None of this is your fault.” “It’s all my fault.” “If I hadn’t been afraid of hurting Alice, if I hadn’t accepted her confession back then, none of this would have happened.” “Chloe, not being able to marry you is already the biggest regret of my life. Now you’re carrying my child…” “Let’s keep the baby.” “But… Alice just lost her baby…” Chloe’s voice broke into a desperate sob. “How can I…” “No, I can’t keep this baby!” Her voice suddenly became frantic and despairing. “Liam, I’ve thought a lot these past few days.” “You and Alice are married. There’s no possibility for you and me anymore.” “You’re right, Alice needs you more than I do… I’m going to apply for a transfer with my superiors.” “From now on… let’s not see each other again.” “Please, be good to Alice.” “No, Chloe,” Liam’s voice held an undeniable pain and resolve. “I can’t lose you again, and I certainly can’t lose our child.” Watching their entangled figures. Listening to this agonizing conversation. How absurd. I suddenly felt like I was the villain, the shadow who had stolen someone else’s happiness. My heart felt like it was clenched by an icy hand, then suddenly released. Leaving only a numb void. All the pain seemed to peak at that moment, then strangely subsided into a dead calm. I stepped out from behind the pillar. My footsteps startled them. They quickly pulled apart. I didn’t look at Chloe, just walked step by step towards them.

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After five years of marriage and two kids, I was left with C-section scars on my belly and loose skin. Predictably, my CEO husband cheated on me with his young secretary. Devastated and furious, I ran to my rich mom to cry my eyes out. She puffed on a cigarette, a dismissive look on her face. “He found a girlfriend, can’t you find a boyfriend? I’ve sponsored a dozen handsome college guys. Pick whichever one you like.” “Mom,” I stammered, “you want me to cheat?” My mom shook her head. “No, I’m teaching you to love yourself.” I was dropping my two kids off at school when I found out Brandon was cheating. Seeing the photos of him passionately kissing someone in an office on my phone, my hands trembled on the steering wheel. My older son, Leo, said, “Mom, please hurry, I’m going to be late.” He was so much like Brandon — polite, reserved, and not particularly dependent on me. I used to be so proud of that, thinking I’d raised a brilliant son. But now, looking at his calm, brown eyes, I felt a strange fear. I asked him, “Leo, if your dad and I separate, who would you choose?” Leo gave me an indifferent glance but said nothing. When we pulled up to the school, he slowly got out. He looked at me and said, “Mom, you don’t have a job, and you’ve fallen out with Grandma. So, if you two separate, I’ll choose Dad.” My younger son, Charlie, immediately echoed, “Me too, I want Dad!” I felt like I’d been plunged into an ice bath. After dropping Charlie off at kindergarten, I found an empty park before I dared to open the picture again. The message was from a strange woman. She wrote, “Mrs. Miller, you’re so kind, I didn’t want you to be kept in the dark. Mr. Miller is going on a business trip in a couple of days, and he even specifically booked a king-sized couple’s suite and flowers.” A king-sized couple’s suite, flowers. These were things Brandon only did for me when we were madly in love. Now, he was giving them to another woman. After thinking it over, I finally called my mom’s secretary. Half an hour later, Julia led me to my mom. I hadn’t seen her in five years. She was even more beautiful and formidable than before. She rolled her eyes. “You’re this old and still such a coward.” My eyes welled up, and my nose burned. “Yeah, I’m useless, that’s why my life turned out like this.” My mom didn’t care, continuing her taunts: “What else can you do besides act tough in front of me? You can’t even keep a man in line.” The more she spoke, the sadder I got, and the tears I’d held back all morning finally fell. “Yes, I’m useless, I’m a total failure, and I don’t know what to do when my husband cheats. Just yell at me, I don’t even want to live anymore.” My mom glanced at Julia. “You, record this. This pathetic display is perfect for the internet.” I instantly stopped crying, utterly incredulous. “Mom! How can you be like this?” My mom watched me for a moment, then walked over and sharply poked my head. “How did I give birth to such a wimp?” She was right; she was so powerful. After I was born, she found out my dad cheated, and she kicked him out without a second thought. She single-handedly grew a small electronics company into a publicly traded empire, shipping products to over a dozen countries. My mom, fierce as she was, had given birth to a wimp like me. From childhood, besides decent grades, I wasn’t like her in any way. I was also a hopeless romantic, a total love-struck idiot. Even though I knew Brandon was hard to pin down, I was so smitten by his looks that I practically begged to marry him. My mom glared at me for a while, then sighed. “He’s supporting a woman, why can’t you support a man? I have over a dozen sponsored college students. Which one do you like?” I couldn’t believe it. “Mom, you want me to cheat?” My mom shook her head. “No, I’m teaching you to love yourself.” I was a little dazed. My mom continued: “Relationships, male and female, are all about exchanging value.” “When you first got married, you were young, beautiful, and compliant, so he was willing to spoil you and put effort into you.” “But five years have passed, the novelty is gone, and you just stay home all day, like some frumpy old homebody.” “To Brandon, you have no commercial value and no emotional value. Tell me, what else could he want from you?” I mumbled, “But, but I gave him two children…” “Any normal woman can have kids! And you’re not a breeding machine.” My mom lit a cigarette, a faint, knowing smile playing on her lips. “Audrey, your grandparents raised you. I didn’t have time. I know they filled your head with a lot of old-fashioned ideas.”

I’d never done anything so rebellious. For a moment, I was still stunned. My mom sat at her massive office desk, tapping her index finger against the surface. “Audrey, choose: be a princess or a nanny. Remember, you only get one chance. Miss it, and I won’t help you again, and we won’t see each other.” She meant what she said. When I was hell-bent on marrying Brandon, she didn’t answer my calls for five years. She even went abroad and had a daughter twenty-five years younger than me. My mom made it clear she couldn’t entrust her vast empire to a fool like me. Her aura was incredibly powerful; I’d always been intimidated by her. If it weren’t absolutely necessary, I wouldn’t have swallowed my pride and come to her. I felt a bit guilty. “Mom, can I think about it?” She pointed to the office door. “You have 24 hours. After that, the offer’s off. Get out, I have a meeting.” On the way home, my mom’s words replayed in my head. She said the reason she didn’t want me to marry Brandon was because he was the youngest child in his family. People who are spoiled too much don’t cherish people’s feelings. And she’d secretly investigated; Brandon had been flirting with girls since middle school. I was just blinded by his good looks, utterly determined to marry him. I had to admit, my mom was truly prescient. As soon as I walked in, I noticed the house was quite lively. Brandon was already home and had brought someone with him. It was a young, beautiful woman in a white dress, with shoulder-length hair, stunningly gorgeous. She was curled up on my carefully chosen sofa, my two sons nestled on either side, while Brandon sat nearby, looking at documents. From my angle, they looked exactly like a family. But only I knew that the four of us hadn’t eaten together in a very, very long time. When Brandon finally had time off, he always stayed in his study. The kids didn’t like going out with me either. Now, Leo, who was usually quiet, was excitedly holding Chloe’s hand. “Aunt Chloe, you’re amazing, you actually beat the Demon King! My mom can’t even do that.” The girl named Chloe smiled, her eyes crinkling. “Of course not, I’m the star player on our school’s esports team.” Brandon handed her a glass of milk. “Alright, drink some milk first, you’ll get a stomachache later. Audrey will be back soon to cook. Her famous steak is delicious, you’ll definitely like it.” They spoke so casually, as if I wasn’t the lady of the house, but a hired cook. I looked at my sallow reflection in the mirror. Almost instinctively, I dropped the grocery bags on the floor and bolted. Twenty minutes later, I arrived at Vivian’s mansion. I rushed through the door, dropping to my knees with a thud. Loudly, I cried, “Mom, help me! I don’t want to be a tired, worn-out housewife anymore. I’ll listen to everything you say.” My mom walked over. “Starting tomorrow, go see Julia. She’ll help you.” Then she turned to hug Lily, my little sister. I wiped a tear and turned to leave. Back at the Miller house, Brandon and the boys didn’t realize I’d returned. Seeing the bags in my hand, Charlie cried that he was hungry. “Mommy, I want fried chicken wings! Leo wants shrimp.” Brandon and the boys had sensitive stomachs. We used to have a private chef, but after we got married, my in-laws said I stayed home all day and should learn how to take care of them. So, I started from scratch, learning to cook delicious, healthy meals tailored to their needs. I became a wife who perfectly catered to the Miller family, but I also became a complete nanny. I casually tossed the bags onto the table and turned to face them. “I’m a little tired today, so I won’t be cooking. Order takeout. Tomorrow, I’ll hire a chef. From now on, you can tell the chef directly what you want to eat.”

I started to head upstairs, but Brandon blocked me. “Audrey, what do you mean? We have a guest today, how can you make her eat takeout?” “Guest?” I slowly turned my head, looking at Chloe. “She’s just your company’s secretary. What, am I, your wife, supposed to personally wait on her?” Chloe immediately teared up. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Miller, I’ve caused you trouble.” She picked up her bag, looking hurt. “I-I’ll leave right away. Please, don’t argue with Mr. Miller because of me.” Leo rushed forward first. “Mom, how can you be so rude? Aunt Chloe is my friend.” My younger son chimed in, “Yeah, Mom, you cook every day anyway. What’s wrong with making Aunt Chloe a meal? Dad married you so you could do these things, didn’t he?” Their righteous indignation made me feel like a complete joke. The slap from that afternoon started to sting again. My husband, whom I’d spent my youth with, and my children, whom I’d risked my life to bear, were all siding with someone else. I couldn’t help but let out a cold laugh. Audrey Foster, you are such a failure. Brandon, however, misunderstood, thinking I was throwing a tantrum. “Fine, if you won’t cook, then don’t. Come on, Chloe, I’ll take you out to eat.” Both sons clamored to go along. As they left, Leo deliberately took Chloe’s hand, flaunting their closeness in front of me. He usually disliked physical affection, even with me, he rarely let me hold his hand. Now, he was so eagerly trying to please Chloe; he really seemed to like her. I thought I’d be heartbroken. I instinctively touched my chest, but it felt hollow, filled only with an endless chill. After showering, I simply went to sleep. The next morning, no one knocked on my door to remind me to take the kids to school. I ended up sleeping until eleven. After waking, I took another shower, washed my hair, and checked my phone. Julia had booked a slew of appointments for me. Besides getting a haircut, buying clothes, and beauty treatments, there were over a dozen aesthetic procedures. When I got into the car, Julia looked at me as if she wanted to say something. “What’s wrong?” She gave an awkward laugh. “I just didn’t expect that there wasn’t a single dress in your closet.” I silently followed Julia. First, we went to the hair salon, where my messy hair was styled into loose waves. Then I bought dozens of new outfits. For the last appointment, Julia took me to the most reputable aesthetic center to consult about postpartum tightening and repair. Coming out of the doctor’s office, my face was flushed. “Julia, does it really have to be like this?” Julia was matter-of-fact. “This isn’t just a health issue. It’s about psychological and physiological satisfaction, and that’s extremely important.” To be honest, I had been bothered by leakage for a long time. And Brandon had even complained during sex. Over time, he stopped touching me. Sometimes when I initiated, he’d go hide in another room. Julia was right, sex was a very important thing.

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When I found out I was the billionaire’s illegitimate daughter, I raced over to meet my father, my heart pounding with excitement. But when I arrived at Thorne Manor, I discovered 98 other illegitimate daughters already lined up, waiting for their chance to meet him too. As it turned out, Mr. Thorne’s only son had passed away, and he was searching for an heir to his multi-billion-dollar empire. He’d gathered all his illegitimate daughters, hoping to find the strongest successor through a series of challenges. Feeling completely outmatched, I hung my head, ready to slip away quietly. Suddenly, I heard my late mother Eleanor’s voice speaking to me: “Scarlett, don’t go! I know how you can win this. Remember your arch-rival from the orphanage? Valerie? She’s one of them too! If you walk away now, that multi-billion-dollar fortune will all go to her!” I spun around, and sure enough, there was Valerie’s face staring back at me. Ten years ago, she’d locked me in that dusty, rat-infested storage room, stolen my shot at adoption, and condemned me to another decade of misery. The memory made anger burn in my chest. Alright, Mom. I’m listening. I’m not leaving. Mr. Thorne’s billions? They’re as good as mine!

My arch-rival Valerie recognized me right away: “Scarlett? Why aren’t you still stuck in that back alley? What are you doing at Mr. Thorne’s place? Don’t tell me you’re here to steal something? A street rat like you doesn’t belong here.” I clenched my fists, ready to fire back a retort. Mr. Thorne slowly descended the grand staircase, his gaze sweeping over all of us. “For years, I’ve failed as a father. I owe all of you an apology.” “So I’ve prepared $200,000 for each of you as compensation. Those who want it can register with Alfred, the butler, to collect.” The mansion erupted in excited murmurs: “Thank you, Father!” “I really needed this money! You’re the best, Dad!” Watching everyone swarm toward Alfred, Valerie scoffed from the sidelines: “A bunch of greedy fools. Do they honestly think they can compete with me for the inheritance?” After Valerie stole my adoption chance, she’d been living in luxury with a wealthy family. Two hundred grand was pocket change to her. But for me, who was used to eating stale bread every day, $200,000 could buy my freedom. Seeing me hesitate, tempted to join the money line, Mom quickly warned: “Scarlett, this is just the first test.” “Anyone who takes the $200,000 is short-sighted and gets disqualified immediately.” “Those who walk away from the money show they’ve got the ambition to compete in the real challenges.” I froze mid-step and sneaked a glance at Mr. Thorne. Sure enough, he was watching the line of daughters with a critical eye, shaking his head in disappointment. Just then, Alfred announced: “Those claiming the $200,000 must sign this inheritance waiver.” Without hesitation, I stepped out of the line. But the waiver didn’t stop most of them. Watching most of the daughters fixated on the quick $200,000 payout, eagerly signing the agreement, Mr. Thorne sighed, disappointment written across his face, and turned his gaze to the remaining few. When Mr. Thorne and I accidentally locked eyes, Mom’s voice echoed: “See? I wouldn’t lie to you.” “Just trust me and do as I say. I never got a cent from that deadbeat when I was alive, so you have to make me proud and fight for this.” The next moment, Mr. Thorne announced in a stern voice: “Twenty of you have chosen to forgo the $200,000. Please follow the guards upstairs.” Spotting me among them, Valerie looked stunned: “Scarlett, you’re an illegitimate daughter too? So we’re half-sisters?” I ignored her. Because right then, Mr. Thorne was announcing the first round challenge: “To be my heir, financial management and earning potential are essential.” “I’ll give each of you $100,000 in seed money. In one hour, the ten of you with the most remaining funds will move forward in the succession process.”

As soon as Mr. Thorne finished speaking, the other nineteen daughters pulled out their phones and jumped into action. “My mom’s an entrepreneur—I’ve been learning the ropes from her since I was a kid. I’ve got this!” “I have a PhD in finance. I know exactly how to grow this money!” They all started showing off their credentials. Some immediately opened stock trading apps. Others navigated to investment fund platforms. Some used the $100,000 as seed money to draft business proposals on the spot. Others capitalized on the moment by going live on TikTok: “I’m at the billionaire’s mansion, live from the heir selection! Follow for exclusive updates on this crazy family inheritance showdown!” But as I stared at the bank card the guard handed me, I felt completely helpless. I never even finished high school—the orphanage kicked me out to sell things on the streets to survive. These women were all educated, polished professionals. How could I possibly compete? Valerie noticed my panic and laughed mockingly: “Everyone else is hard at work, and you don’t even have a phone. You think you can compete for the inheritance?” Valerie didn’t just look down on me. She looked down on all the other illegitimate daughters too: “I graduated top of my class from business school. When it comes to making money, none of you stand a chance.” She then split her focus: buying stocks and drafting an investment proposal to present to Mr. Thorne in an hour. Mom encouraged me: “Scarlett, remember what they say: ‘Don’t fear the trust fund kids who spend money—fear the ones who think they can actually run a business.’” “Let them play their games. This round, you win by doing absolutely nothing.” “Even if you have to fake it, act like you’ve got everything under control!” She added: “You’ve been in the real world since you were a kid, facing all its hardships. When it comes to reading people, none of them can touch you.” “Now start watching your billionaire dad closely. You never know when that might come in handy.” Her words gave me new confidence. After a moment’s thought, I stepped back to a corner and began studying Mr. Thorne, trying to get a read on his personality and temperament. While the other daughters pulled out all the stops, my focus stayed solely on Mr. Thorne. My unusual calmness caught Mr. Thorne’s attention. He had Alfred come over to me: “Why aren’t you doing anything?” Following Mom’s advice, I answered without hesitation: “Protecting an empire is far harder than building one.” “With today’s economic uncertainty, I’d rather play it safe to protect the wealth you’ve worked so hard to build, Father.” No sooner had I spoken than someone screamed: “My stocks just crashed! This can’t be happening!” Another woman kicked over a chair: “Scammers! This investment firm is a total fraud—my money got converted to crypto and stolen!” “Who shut down my TikTok stream? I just paid for promotion!” In the middle of the chaos, I met Mr. Thorne’s gaze calmly. A faint glimmer appeared in his eyes, but he said nothing. An hour passed quickly. My strategy of doing nothing actually landed me in fifth place, advancing me to the next round. Mom! Thank you! I’m one step closer to that multi-billion-dollar fortune! Valerie, meanwhile, had earned $50,000 through her own efforts. Her written proposal also earned high praise from Mr. Thorne. Watching her advance in first place, the other daughters were green with envy. As we followed Alfred upstairs again, Valerie deliberately bumped into me: “Scarlett, you just got lucky. It’s not too late to quit and leave.” “Otherwise, once I become heir, I’ll make sure you regret it.” I gave her a cold stare, making a silent vow. Once I inherit those billions, she’ll pay for what she did to me as a kid! When we reached the luxurious dining room, Alfred surprisingly pulled out a chair for me: “Scarlett, please have a seat here.” I didn’t think much of it at first. But as I started toward the chair, I noticed Valerie smirking at me, like she was waiting for me to embarrass myself.

Mom immediately warned me: “Scarlett, that’s your father’s seat at the head of the table! You can’t sit there!” “They’re not actually going to eat—this is a test of dining etiquette.” My heart skipped a beat. I waved my hands at Alfred. “That’s my father’s seat at the head of the table. When will he be joining us?” Alfred gave me an approving smile. From the corner of my eye, I saw Valerie grind her teeth in frustration. I didn’t dare gloat, focusing intently on Mom’s instructions. With Mom’s help, I aced this round. When pouring wine for Mr. Thorne, my experience as a waitress let me serve without spilling a drop. During the meal, my utensils made no scraping sounds against the plate. After the meal, as Alfred led us downstairs, I noticed five fewer competitors. They’d been forced to sign inheritance waivers and left dejectedly with $200,000. Valerie jabbed my back, sneering: “Scarlett, don’t get too cocky. You’ll be out soon enough!” I wasn’t timid anymore. I shot back coldly: “Valerie, you’d better watch yourself. If I win, first thing I’ll do is lock you in that dusty, rat-infested storage room.” “Scarlett, you’re asking for it!” Valerie’s face turned red, and she raised her hand to slap me. Mr. Thorne suddenly stopped, his gaze sweeping across our faces: “Before we continue, I have a serious question for all of you.”

I immediately knew this was the next challenge. Everyone held their breath, waiting for Mr. Thorne’s question: “If my business faced a crisis that could only be fixed by marrying an infertile man in a permanent vegetative state, would you do it?” “Think carefully. This isn’t hypothetical—it’s a real possibility.” As soon as he finished, Valerie stepped forward first: “Of course I would! Any sacrifice for you, Father, is my duty!” “Of course! With my skills, I can not only save the company through marriage but use my husband’s family connections to take us to new heights!” Seeing her, others rushed to declare their loyalty: “As your daughter, Father, marriage is my duty and mission!” “A vegetative infertile man might be better—I could do IVF and the child would take my last name!” Suddenly, several daughters gathered around Mr. Thorne, creating a falsely warm scene. Mom, worried I might freeze up, reminded me: “Scarlett, don’t fall for his scare tactics. He’s testing your loyalty—just say you’re willing.” But seeing Mr. Thorne’s emotionless face and scrutinizing eyes, I hesitated. Mr. Thorne’s reaction was too strange. I stood frozen, trying to figure out the real meaning behind the question. Mom grew impatient: “Scarlett, what are you waiting for? Say you’re willing now!” “I dated your father for six months—I know him! He falls for flattery. Hurry up!” Mom was wrong. Mr. Thorne wouldn’t be that easily fooled. I remembered our previous eye contacts and his subtle expressions, my mind racing. As I stayed silent, all eyes turned to me. Mr. Thorne frowned, giving me a meaningful look: “Scarlett, is this question so hard to answer? Look at your sisters—they didn’t hesitate.” Valerie wore a smug, triumphant grin: “The country bumpkin’s never seen real life—she probably didn’t even understand the question.” Other daughters whispered, waiting for me to embarrass myself: “She showed off at dinner, but now her true colors are showing!” Mom panicked: “Scarlett, are you trying to drive me crazy? Say it now! Only by agreeing do you stand a chance at that fortune!” I took a deep breath and answered clearly: “I’m not willing.” Mr. Thorne’s expression instantly changed.

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Married for seven years, my doctor husband, Liam, had missed every single one of my birthdays and wedding anniversaries. The first year, his patient, Sophia, claimed she had a headache. He ditched me in Hawaii and flew back overnight. The second year, I put on some lace lingerie, hoping for an intimate night. He’d already unbuckled his belt and was tying me to the bed when Sophia’s call pulled him away again. Her reason? She couldn’t get a cab back to the hospital. After that, no matter the year, Sophia always seemed to have some trouble or another that required his attention. Finally, my heart turned to ice. I decided to file for divorce. But the day I moved out of Los Angeles, he frantically searched for me, like a madman. Today was my seventh birthday since marrying Liam. I threw a birthday party and invited all our friends. Liam promised he would definitely be there this time, as a make-up for all his past absences. But he did come, only he came with Sophia. He sat in the corner of the private room, massaging Sophia’s cramping foot, leaving me standing there awkwardly, alone. My friends shook their heads in dismay, feeling sorry for me. “Look at you, every year you hope he’ll spend your birthday with you, but does he ever truly care about you?” Everyone knew how much this day meant to me, how much I longed to truly celebrate it with him. But halfway through the party, Liam, who was supposed to be cutting the cake with me, left early again. I rushed after him, but he stopped me with a hand. “Sophia’s foot still hasn’t recovered from the cramp. I need to take her home.” “You handle the party tonight. Next time, next time I promise I won’t leave early.” With that, he forcibly pulled his hand away from mine and helped Sophia into his car. Seven years of marriage, and this was the seventh time he’d ruined my birthday because of Sophia. In the past, I would have yelled and screamed, demanding to know why he had to leave at such an important moment. But this time, I stood quietly, a gentle smile on my face. “It’s okay. Sophia’s health is certainly important.” Liam paused, seemingly surprised by my calm. “It’s best you think that way. Tomorrow, I’ll bring you a Tiramisu from your favorite place.” I hummed in agreement, watching him roll up the car window and speed away without a second glance. The moment he was gone, I dropped the smile from my lips. He forgot. I hate caffeine. I can’t stand overly sweet cakes. Tiramisu isn’t my favorite; it’s hers. He’d bought one for me once, trying to cheer me up. Not wanting to hurt his feelings, I forced myself to take a bite, almost gagging. Afterwards, I told him how much I hated coffee and anything too sweet. He’d pulled out his phone immediately, typed it into his notes, and promised he’d never forget. A year later, “never” was already over. The night wind chilled me to the bone, but my heart was already frozen solid. I scoffed, then went back inside. After announcing the party was over, I publicly tore my birthday dress to shreds. I knew this seven-year marriage should be shredded along with it. After all, the annual birthday gift my husband gave me was always the same: his blatant flirtation with another woman. By the end, my best friend, Stella Smith, stayed to comfort me. She watched me sitting dejectedly amidst the ruined party decorations and couldn’t help but speak again: “How about… you finally let go completely this time? Come back to Washington with me. There are more opportunities there. Leave this place, start fresh.” This wasn’t the first time she’d urged me to leave. I looked up, meeting Stella’s worried and indignant gaze. She was my med school roommate and my best friend, from a prominent medical family in Washington. Years ago, when I met Liam during my internship and, head over heels, followed him to Los Angeles, a city where I didn’t know a soul, only Stella vehemently objected, saying I’d regret it someday. Liam came from a small, ordinary town. He was extremely sensitive about his background and hated anyone mentioning family wealth. To spare his feelings, for seven years, I never told him about my true family situation—my parents were also professors at a prestigious medical school, and we were quite well-off. In his eyes, I was just a girl like him, who worked hard to make her way from a modest background. I always thought it wouldn’t be too late to tell him once we were established and our lives were getting better. With this mutual understanding and shared struggle, we grew from resident doctors to key members of our respective departments, winning the hospital’s annual Outstanding Physician Award for three consecutive years. We were considered the “power couple” by everyone. Our lives seemed to be steadily improving. I thought that when the right time came, he would understand everything. But that “right time” was always interrupted by Sophia’s endless “crises.” Lost in thought, I looked at the shredded fabric of my dress scattered on the floor and let out a bitter laugh. In the end, there was no need to say anything anymore. “Okay.” I heard my dry voice say. “Stella, I’ll go with you.” Stella’s eyes lit up. She practically lunged at me, grabbing my cold hands tightly: “You finally came to your senses! I’ll book the soonest flight for you. This crappy place, this crappy guy, we’re done! I’ll help you settle in back home. I’ve got you covered!”

After settling Stella, who was busy arranging my travel, I returned alone to our cold, silent apartment. The entire place was as desolate as ever. After fixing myself a quick meal, I opened Ins and saw Sophia had just posted an update. The picture showed her in a tight-fitting workout outfit, posing intimately with Liam. “Tricked Liam into coming to play basketball with me instead of celebrating Amelia’s birthday! He was a little mad, but I told him we’d go to my place for dinner later, and he cheered right up, hehe.” Seeing that message, I felt a wave of nausea. I knew he wouldn’t be coming home tonight, just like always. Luckily, I had already decided to divorce. I wouldn’t have to suffer in silence anymore. The next morning, I took my packed luggage to the hospital and formally submitted my resignation letter to Dr. Evans, the Department Head, and Human Resources. I started the handover of my work. Because I excelled in my field, Dr. Evans was still trying to persuade me to stay. As we were talking, Liam walked in with a patient’s chart. I glanced over and saw a hickey on his neck, and a perfume scent clinging to him, too strong for even hospital disinfectant to mask. It was clear he’d had a very enjoyable night. He used to hate it when I left marks on him, claiming it affected his rounds. So, even in our most passionate moments, I’d try my best to hold back, or just grip the bedsheets instead. It wasn’t that he didn’t want marks on him, it was just that they couldn’t be from me. As soon as he walked in, Dr. Evans sighed and spoke. “Perfect, you can talk some sense into your wife. She wants to resign. Did you two have a fight?” “It has nothing to do with him.” “You’re resigning?” Two voices spoke at once. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his gaze fixed on me, his lips slightly pressed. “So, you were angry yesterday because I left early, weren’t you?” Dr. Evans, seeing the tension, discreetly left, giving us space. The moment the door closed, Liam stepped forward and questioned me. “I told you Sophia’s foot cramped, that’s why I took her home. Why are you so petty?” I tried to keep my voice calm, looking up and making up a lie. “I’m not angry. I’m resigning because I’m tired and want to take a vacation and rest.” He crossed his arms, frowning in confusion. “If you want a vacation, just take your annual leave. If you suddenly resign like this, people will think you have an issue with Sophia. How can she, a patient, receive treatment with peace of mind?” He forgot. I’d already burned through all my vacation days this year, spending them on every birthday and anniversary he’d ditched. But he only worried about Sophia’s treatment. My heart ached with sadness. I turned my gaze back to the hickey on his neck, saying nothing. He noticed and subconsciously covered his neck. “This is just an allergic reaction, don’t overthink it.” I was somewhat surprised. He wasn’t arguing with me; he was explaining. But it was such a pathetic excuse. The old me might have believed it. I nodded, still silent. Liam breathed a sigh of relief, apparently thinking my anger had passed, and smiled as he put an arm around my shoulder. “That’s better, can’t you try not to be so dramatic? As doctors, sometimes we need to put the patient’s needs first.” “And don’t bother resigning. Tonight, I’ll take you to that scenic restaurant on the hill, okay? As compensation.” I still didn’t speak. He took my silence as agreement. My intention to say a proper goodbye to him was suppressed. Now, I didn’t want to tell him I was going to Washington.

“Liam!” Sophia pushed the door open without knocking. Liam immediately jumped back from me. Sophia gave an apologetic smile. “Oops, sorry to interrupt you and Amelia, but I really couldn’t help it! I’m a little confused about this prescription…” Liam, without a backward glance, walked towards her, took the patient’s chart from her hand, and patiently asked her what she didn’t understand. Sophia deliberately pressed close to him. The two of them whispered together right in front of me, forming their own little bubble. Then Sophia linked arms with Liam and walked out. The moment she closed the door, she turned back and gave me a taunting smile. Thump. The empty office was filled only with the sound of my breathing. The next second, the necklace on my wrist fell, the chain broke, and the pendant shattered on the floor. Out of nowhere. It was the gift Liam gave me on our first wedding anniversary. He’d said then that he hoped our relationship, like the necklace, would be a lifetime of completeness. I stood in silence for a long time, then, ignoring the pain of the tiny cuts, I carefully gathered the fragments. Along with the last shred of my hesitation for us, I tossed them into the trash. After firmly telling Dr. Evans my decision to resign, I returned to my clinic to hand over my remaining work. My colleague, Ashley, who was taking over, was usually quite friendly with me and seemed genuinely sad to hear the news. “Amelia, are you really leaving?” “Then I’ll have to watch those two flirting in front of me every day!” Following her gaze, I saw Liam explaining a prescription to Sophia. Sophia seemed a bit unhappy, apparently having been gently scolded by Liam. To cheer her up, Liam magically produced a Cartier bracelet from somewhere. She immediately brightened up and put it on. Then, she met my eyes and stood up, flustered. “Amelia, Liam and I aren’t really anything. This isn’t anything special!” Her words immediately drew everyone’s attention to us, their eyes darting between her and me. In seven years of marriage, Liam had never given me anything expensive, and they all, like Liam, thought I came from an ordinary family and didn’t recognize designer brands. Everyone felt sorry for me. Even Ashley, standing next to me, was indignant. “You’re his wife! They’re treating you like an absolute fool!” I gently squeezed her hand, shaking my head repeatedly, signaling her not to get into a heated argument. Then I looked back at Sophia. “That bracelet is beautiful. It suits you well.” Sophia, not seeing me get angry, continued, somewhat unwillingly. “Amelia, it’s really nothing special, don’t be mad.” I just felt confused. Mad? There was no need. I had plenty of bracelets like that, though they were all back at my home in Washington. Liam stood up upon hearing my words, frowning as he scolded me. “Amelia, don’t be so unreasonable.” I sighed, shaking my head. “I’m really not angry. You two should stop making wild guesses about me.” My tone was calm. Liam seemed surprised, then scoffed. “You better not be.” He then pulled Sophia down to sit beside him. Ashley couldn’t help but ask me. “Are you really just going to let them off the hook?” I shrugged while organizing patient records. “Yeah, because as far as I’m concerned, I’ve already decided to divorce him.” Seven birthday parties, not one complete. I was tired of it.

After work, Liam, surprisingly, came to help me pack up my things. “Let’s go. I booked the scenic restaurant on the hill for eight o’clock. We can leave now and get there just in time.” Then his eyes fell on my bare wrist. He froze, asking anxiously, “Where’s the necklace I gave you?” “I was worried about breaking it, so I took it off and left it at home.” He visibly relaxed, smiling at me. “You used to wear it every day. Why are you suddenly keeping it safe?” Before I could come up with another lie, Sophia jogged over and stopped beside us. “Liam, I’m all ready!” Liam’s gaze immediately went to her. He nodded, signaling for her to wait in the car. I watched Sophia walk directly to the passenger seat and wait. In seven years of marriage, I had never once sat in his passenger seat. He said that seat was for the most important person, and I would only get to sit there after we celebrated every anniversary together. Meeting Sophia’s challenging gaze, I looked down, offering no response. My heart no longer held any ripples of emotion. At the restaurant, Liam and Sophia sat on the same side, ordering without asking for my opinion. I happily took a back seat, propping my head on my hand and gazing out the window at the view. After all, after tomorrow, I probably wouldn’t see this city again. When the dishes arrived, Liam, for once, peeled a whole bowl of shrimp for me and placed it in front of me. “The shrimp here is good.” I looked up, meeting his somewhat gentle smile. I hadn’t expected him to consider me at a time like this. Sophia couldn’t resist taking credit. “I recommended this place to Liam! Last time we came here, he ate three whole plates!” Liam’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment. “Why are you telling Amelia all this…” Sophia laughed, covering her mouth, and looked at me, pretending to be embarrassed. “Oh, sorry, Amelia. Don’t let this embarrassing story ruin Liam’s image in your mind, okay?” The two of them burst into laughter again right in front of me. I looked at the bowl of shrimp and suddenly lost my appetite. Forcing myself to take one bite, almost gagging, I pushed it back. “I don’t like it. You can have it.” Their playful banter stopped. Liam asked carefully, “Are you unhappy?” I shook my head. “No, the shrimp is just too fishy. I’m not used to it.” Just like you two. Stinks to high heaven. After dinner, Liam drove the ‘drunk’ Sophia home. It was I who closed the door behind them. Watching them leave, I immediately hailed a cab to the airport. On my phone, Liam was still planning how we’d celebrate my next birthday. Perhaps he felt some guilt; he proactively said he’d make sure my next birthday was celebrated properly. “Don’t worry, this time we’ll really celebrate well. No one will disturb us!” I replied expressionlessly. “Okay.” I knew it was impossible. This birthday would be ruined by him, just like all the others. As I was about to board, he sent another message. “Sophia drank too much and has a stomach ache. I won’t be coming home tonight. Take care of yourself at home.” I scoffed, already knowing. “It’s okay. You can stay at her place. I’ve already packed my bags and left. We won’t have any relationship anymore.” “Liam, goodbye for good.” After sending him that last message, I immediately blocked and deleted him. On the plane, I watched Los Angeles, still sparkling, grow smaller beneath me. And when Liam finally got home, he would find the divorce papers I left for him.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “345396”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #重生Reborn