Two years ago, my intermittent amnesia had completely healed. But I kept it a secret from everyone. Until today, when I overheard a conversation between my husband, Nate Caldwell, and his buddy. His buddy asked him if he wasn’t worried about them getting too real when I lost my memory every few months, and he had them pose as him to live with me. Nate swirled his drink, his tone dismissive, saying I was frigid, and as long as they didn’t actively flirt, I wouldn’t have any needs in that area. He even warned his buddies that they could act, but couldn’t actually touch me. He planned to return to his family once he was done playing around. So, in these three years, I had lost my memory nine times, and there had been nine different men pretending to be my husband. Those moments of holding hands, embracing, even sharing a bed—none of them were the real Nate Caldwell. 1 My ninth “husband” arrived home to find me sitting on the sofa, lost in thought. A clear voice broke my reverie: “Iris, I’m home.” I turned my head to look at the man at the doorway. “Who are you?” I frowned, feigning confusion. “Are you my husband? I recall my husband’s name is Nate Caldwell.” The man paused for a second, then immediately refuted: “No! That… I’m your husband’s friend! Don’t worry, ma’am, I’ll call your husband to come back right now!” With that, the man pulled out his phone and hurried to the balcony. “Nate, she’s lost her memory again! Whose turn is it this time? Get over here and relieve me!” Hidden by the window, I heard Nate’s buddies squabbling through the speaker. “Nate, she’s too clingy, you have to watch her 24/7, we can’t handle it!” “Yeah, she’s great in every other way, but she’s too strict. What cat in this world doesn’t sneak a little fish?” “How about you just come back yourself, Nate?” “No,” Nate’s lazy voice came through the speaker. “I’m not done having fun yet, don’t want to go home. Who’s going to fill in for me? As brothers, it’s not cool to refuse such a simple favor, is it?” Amidst their excuses, a cool, clear voice spoke: “I’ll go.” I recognized it. It was Ethan Thorne, Nate’s best friend. Ethan was known in the social circles as a famously stoic gentleman, rumored to have been single for thirty years. When Nate first suggested finding someone to impersonate my husband, Ethan was the first to object. But now, was he also interested in playing this game of make-believe? Half an hour later, the front door clicked open. Ethan walked in, backlit by the evening sun. “Iris, I’m home.” His cool voice carried a hint of magnetism. I rose, steadily looking at the tall, handsome man before me. “You’re my husband, Nate Caldwell?” “Mm.” Ethan cleared his throat lightly, covering his lips. “Apologies, I worked late tonight, came home late.” No sooner had he spoken than his phone rang. Ethan made an apologetic gesture and took the call on the balcony. Through the earpiece, Nate’s nonchalant voice drifted out: “Oh, by the way, Ethan, I forgot to tell you, at most, just hold her hand, give her a hug. But for heaven’s sake, don’t sleep with her. No matter how much fun I’m having, she’s still my wife, and I’ll eventually come back to her.” “Got it,” Ethan’s voice was low. For three years, no matter how those men pretended to be Nate, they only ever held my hand or hugged me, never crossing the line. For three years, there were never any joint photos in the house, nor any identity documents of any man. They naturally assumed I wouldn’t find out. I also played along, pretending not to know a thing. But this time, I wanted to play a different game. I walked over and actively embraced Ethan’s waist. “Honey, even though I’ve lost my memory, the moment I saw you, I felt a special closeness. You must be my husband, no doubt about it.” I held Ethan’s waist tightly, my hand not forgetting to caress his firm abs. Ethan’s body stiffened for a moment, then he awkwardly pushed me away. “What’s wrong?” I asked innocently. “Honey, I’ve lost my memory. Don’t you like me anymore?” “No,” Ethan’s eyes flickered slightly, his voice hoarse, “…I like you.” I reached out to unbutton his shirt, my hand touching his chest muscles. “Honey, it’s so cold today. How about we go to bed and warm up together?” Ethan’s Adam’s apple bobbed: “…Okay.” That night, Ethan and I shared a bed. Yet, as if by unspoken agreement, we said nothing more. 2 The next day, Ethan took me to a bar, saying he wanted to reintroduce me to his friends. As soon as we entered the private room, we saw Nate passionately kissing a woman. Ethan cleared his throat, interrupting them. Nate saw us both, paused for a moment, then slowly stood up. “Hello, I’m Adrian, Nate’s childhood friend.” Nate extended his hand to me, introducing leisurely, “This is my girlfriend, Anna.” “Oh.” I nodded, not taking his hand. Anna. I knew her, of course. Nate Caldwell’s first love. They had broken up due to family reasons, then reconnected, secretly, while I was suffering from amnesia. Nate’s unwillingness to return home for three years was all because of her. There were many of Nate’s friends in the private room, several of whom had previously posed as my husband. At that moment, they all, as if nothing was amiss, jokingly said to me: “Iris, lost your memory again? Our Nate is truly a great guy; no matter how many times you forget, he’ll always stick by you!” “That’s right, Iris, you should cherish such a good man!” I curled my lips into a sarcastic smile, saying nothing. Ethan put his arm around me and sat me down on the sofa. As soon as we were seated, I picked up a piece of fruit and fed it to him: “Honey, eat more.” In the dim light, I glimpsed Nate’s eyes turn towards us. I leaned close to Ethan’s ear, deliberately nibbling his earlobe: “Honey, you were so hard all night, you hurt me so much~” Ethan’s face stiffened, and he awkwardly squeezed my hand: “Baby, don’t cause trouble.” Nate clutched his glass tightly, his face displeased. Anna, sitting next to him, snickered mockingly: “Iris, you really have a way about you. Our stoic gentleman, who usually keeps his distance from women in our circles, is acting like a lovesick teenager around you.” At her words, Nate’s friends, fearing I might catch on, all let out awkward laughs, trying to smooth things over: “Haha, well, that just shows how strong Iris and Nate’s relationship is!” “Yeah, even with memory loss, it doesn’t stop them from showing affection!” Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Nate taking a sip of his drink, his face as dark as charcoal. A flicker of satisfaction went through me, and I rose to go to the restroom. As I came out of the restroom, Anna walked towards me. The moment we brushed past each other, with a “splash,” she spilled the entire glass of red wine on me. “Oh dear, my apologies, my hand slipped.” “Slap!” I raised my hand and slapped her hard. “My apologies, my hand slipped just now too.” No sooner had I spoken than a sharp rebuke came from behind me: “Iris Caldwell, what are you doing!” Nate strode over. Anna immediately flung herself into his arms, crying as if in the rain: “Honey, I just accidentally spilled wine on Iris, and she got angry and hit me. My head feels so dizzy now.” Nate’s face was grim, clearly displeased: “Apologize to Anna!” I scoffed: “Who are you to tell me what to do?” “Iris Caldwell!” Nate’s eyes were cold and menacing, his face terrifyingly dark. “How did you become so arrogant and overbearing after losing your memory?” “What I become has nothing to do with you.” I couldn’t be bothered to deal with him anymore. Just as I turned to leave, Nate kicked me in the knee, forcing me to fall to my knees with a “thud.” “Iris Caldwell, don’t think you can do whatever you want just because you’ve lost your memory. Apologize to Anna immediately!” Looking at the furious man before me, I felt both pathetic and ridiculous. I had no parents, and in this vast city, Nate Caldwell was my only reliance. We had been together for ten years, ever since we fell in love in college. When he proposed to me, he swore he would always protect and love me, that he would never betray me in this life. But now, he not only betrayed our marriage but also used violence against me for another woman. All the sweet words and solemn vows had turned into a joke. Amidst my sorrow and anger, Ethan’s sharp voice came from behind me: “Don’t touch her!” I endured the pain in my knee, stood up quickly, slapped Nate across the face, and then hid in Ethan’s arms, complaining: “Honey, your friend is so rude, he’s bullying me!” Ethan’s face was displeased, his eyes clouded with gloom, and his gaze towards Nate was full of warning: “Don’t bully Iris.” Nate gritted his back teeth, a furious expression on his grim face. Anna huddled in Nate’s arms, sneering dismissively: “A used bus and a rebound guy, what’s there to be so proud of?” “Shut up!” Nate and Ethan’s voices rang out simultaneously. 3 “Anna, Iris is wrong, but you shouldn’t insult her either.” Nate’s tone was cold and harsh. Ethan frowned deeply, looking at Anna, his eyes icy: “From now on, don’t let me hear you badmouthing Iris again.” With that, he put his arm around me and strode away. We went straight home. As soon as we entered, I embraced Ethan’s waist, my hand caressing his firm abs a few times. “Honey, you looked so handsome protecting me just now, I love it!” Ethan’s ears tinged with a blush, and he lightly cleared his throat: “As long as you like it.” I reached out to unbuckle his belt. “Honey, the weather’s too cold. Let’s go exercise in bed and warm up, shall we?” “…It’s still early.” “Who says you have to wait until a certain time to go to bed?” I kissed his Adam’s apple, coaxing softly, “Honey, I’ve lost my memory, and I can’t remember what intimacy feels like… Can you help me recall?” Ethan’s Adam’s apple bobbed, his voice heavily hoarse: “Iris… don’t tease.” I simply pushed him onto the sofa. Ethan struggled for two seconds, then flipped over, pinning me beneath him. From afternoon to late night, Ethan was like a ravenous wolf tasting meat for the first time, knowing the flavor and never sated. I was so exhausted I fell into a deep sleep. In a hazy state, I heard Ethan’s husky voice asking in my ear: “Iris, are you really suffering from amnesia?” I opened my mouth but said nothing. Did it even matter anymore, whether I was or wasn’t?

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On the livestream, Jaxon, the clout-chasing pop idol with bleached blond hair, was lounging inside the cockpit of a heavily armed stealth fighter jet. He smirked at the camera, bragging to millions of viewers that his CEO sugar mama had gifted him this magnificent beast, and he was about to take her for a joyride. My blood ran cold. One glance was all it took to recognize the classified prototype parked on my private military tarmac. Furious, I dialed my wife’s number. The call went straight to voicemail. How dare she hand over top-tier military hardware to a glorified pretty boy? He did not even deserve to breathe the same air as that machine. I did not hesitate. I immediately contacted Central Command, flagging the incident as a Level One security breach and theft of classified assets. By the time the tactical strike team swarmed the hangar, Jaxon was still fumbling clumsily with the control panels. A split second later, a masked operative ripped him out of the cockpit, tossing him onto the unforgiving concrete of the runway like a sack of garbage. Hundreds of thousands of viewers watched it happen live. The chat exploded into a frenzy of panic. “Oh my god! Did they just send the actual Special Forces?!” “Jaxon is so done…” I glanced at the tactical watch on my wrist, a dark scoff escaping my lips. Unauthorized access to a military-grade fighter jet carried a shoot-to-kill authorization. If he wanted to play stupid games with national security, he was going to win the ultimate prize. Some lines are drawn in blood, and anyone who crosses them pays the toll. 1 Jaxon’s eyes were wide with a pathetic mix of terror and disbelief, yet he still had the nerve to run his mouth. “You can’t do this! My stream is still live!” “Are you seriously going to assault me in front of millions of fans?!” I let out a cold laugh, stepping forward to press the heavy sole of my combat boot against his arrogant mouth. “Too bad your account just got permanently nuked for broadcasting classified military intelligence.” “You still don’t get it, do you? I have zero patience for trash like you.” The moment the words left my mouth, a dozen heavily armed tactical officers raised their rifles in unison, the laser sights painting red dots across Jaxon’s forehead. All the blood drained from his face. He began to whimper, his words tumbling out in a garbled mess. “Tony! Are you out of your mind?!” “If you touch a single hair on my head, Victoria will destroy you!” Even with guns pointed at his skull, the brat was using my own wife as a shield. My eyes turned glacial. I racked the slide of my sidearm, the metallic clack echoing sharply in the tense air. “Tony Kingsley! Put that down right now!” The hangar door violently slammed open as Victoria barged in. Her usually elegant, untouchable demeanor was gone, replaced by a mask of blazing fury. “Do you have any idea what you are doing?! You are going to take his life over a stupid airplane?!” I found the whole situation downright hilarious. Whenever Jaxon was in trouble, she always managed to show up with perfect timing. The tactical commander picked up on the toxic energy radiating between us. He gave my shoulder a brief, solid pat. “Handle your domestic issues, Colonel. We will drag this punk to the holding cells.” “Victoria, save me!” Before Jaxon could even finish his pathetic wail, he was shoved brutally into the back of an armored transport vehicle. Victoria’s brows knit together. Her eyes swam with agonizing pity for him and absolute venom for me. “Are you happy now, Tony? Pulling a stunt like this?” I met her raging stare with absolute deadpan calm. “Who told you to decline my call?” Victoria looked at me like I had just sprouted a second head. Her trembling finger pointed straight at my chest. “You humiliated Jaxon in front of hundreds of thousands of people just because I sent you to voicemail?!” “Do you have any idea how hard he has worked to get where he is? How could you ruin him so viciously!” “You should be thanking yourself for letting him trespass onto my tarmac and break into a classified jet. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have had the legal right to do a damn thing.” I stared her down until she guiltily averted her eyes. “Victoria, do you comprehend the federal penalty for attempting to hijack a military aircraft?” That struck a nerve. Her pupils dilated in sudden fear, but she quickly masked it with stubborn defiance. “Who says he stole it?! The jet is sitting right there, completely fine!” “You are just jealous that I spoil him, so you are abusing your military authority to crush him!” Realizing she was completely divorced from reality, any desire I had to reason with her evaporated. I turned to walk away, but she lunged forward, her manicured fingers digging into my wrist. “Tony, stop making things worse. You are going to march down there right now, clear his name, and get Jaxon released.” Her tone shifted from panicked to outrageously demanding. “You know how cutthroat the entertainment industry is! Jaxon just landed a pilot role in a blockbuster movie. He just wanted to use your plane to practice getting into character!” When I did not even flinch, her voice pitched into a hysterical screech. “A billionaire heir like you could never understand! Jaxon grew up starving in a filthy orphanage! He hustles day and night just so he can donate to kids who suffer like he did.” “Is your heart made of ice, Tony? Why can’t you just show a shred of empathy!” “He hustles?” I looked at the woman I had shared a bed with for years, feeling a bone-deep chill. She looked like a complete stranger. “Do you know how many of my brothers are deployed in hostile territories right now? Men who put their lives on the line every single day, who haven’t seen their families in years, whose names can’t even be carved onto their tombstones if they die?” “In your eyes, their sacrifices mean nothing. The only person who ‘hustles’ is your little pet idol, the one you’ve pumped billions of dollars into?” “What kind of nonsense are you talking about…” Victoria’s face morphed from pale to a sickly green. She opened her mouth to argue, but I shoved my phone screen directly into her line of sight. It was a gallery of Jaxon’s shameless social media flexes. “Shoutout to my CEO goddess for the birthday gift! Just moved into this mega-mansion!” “Wrapped up my new movie, and she rewarded me with a private island! She is obsessed with me!” “Loving the new mega-yacht from my favorite lady!” I erased the last trace of emotion from my face. My voice was a lethal whisper. “Victoria, do you even know when my birthday is?” “Have you ever celebrated it? Even once?” My gaze acted as a scalpel, peeling back her layers of fake righteousness. “Tell me. Who exactly is your husband?” A flicker of genuine panic crossed her features, instantly replaced by defensive rage. “How dare you turn this on me? With your ridiculous military job, you are a ghost! How am I supposed to celebrate your birthday when you are never around!” She grew more frantic, as if years of hidden resentment were finally boiling over. “You are a Colonel, for god’s sake, and you are throwing a jealous tantrum over a kid! Don’t you feel pathetic acting so insecure and petty?” Listening to her toxic mockery, the lingering ache in my chest finally went numb. I looked at her and genuinely smiled. “You are right. I was acting pathetic. But I won’t make that mistake again.” Without sparing another glance at her twisted expression, I turned and walked toward the waiting armored convoy. “Tony Kingsley! Stop right there!” Victoria’s shrill scream tore through the tarmac behind me. “Do you really think I need you to get Jaxon out?” She was practically roaring now, throwing out a desperate, unhinged threat. “Let me make this perfectly clear. The Ashford family has power in this city! You just wait and see!” My boots paused for a fraction of a second, but I never looked back. 2 By the next morning, the hashtag #JaxonReleased was trending at number one. I frowned, clicking on the attached video. Jaxon looked perfectly disheveled, his blond hair intentionally messy to give him that tragic, victimized aesthetic. He offered the camera a weak, teary-eyed smile. “Thank you to everyone who stood by me. I am safe now.” “I was set up. I guess when you shine too bright, people try to drag you into the dark.” “Thank god my CEO benefactor believes in me. If it weren’t for her, I might have been…” He let a single tear slip down his cheek right on cue. The comment section went feral. [Our baby suffered so much! Thank god Victoria is protecting him!] [It broke my heart seeing him dragged like that. That military jerk abusing his power is pure evil!] [Hah, the guy is just a glorified pilot. Did he really think he could stand up to the Ashford empire? Victoria handled him!] The sheer audacity of it all was nauseating. Victoria was willing to burn the world down for a two-faced actor. I immediately dialed my legal counsel. “Lawyer Bennett. Draft the divorce papers.” “And file federal charges against both of them for trespassing on a restricted military installation and tampering with classified assets.” Hanging up, my eyes landed on the wedding portrait resting on my nightstand. In the photo, Victoria was leaning against my chest, her smile radiant and full of promises. I still remembered our wedding day. A black-ops mission had gone south, delaying my arrival. I had sprinted into the cathedral smelling like cordite and ash, beating the clock by mere seconds. That was when I heard Victoria’s unwavering voice. “I know Tony carries the weight of the country on his shoulders. I know his boots can never stay planted in one place for me.” “But from this day forward, I, Victoria Ashford, will be his invincible shield back home!” Because of those very words, I gave her everything. I poured my trust, my soul, and the Kingsley family’s vast resources into building her corporate empire. The vows still echoed in my memory, but the woman who spoke them was long dead. I packed my duffel bag, ready to head back to the base. As I opened the front door, I nearly collided with Grandpa Ashford, who was dragging Victoria inside by her arm. She was still wearing yesterday’s clothes, clearly having spent the entire night pulling strings to get Jaxon out of federal custody. “Tony, my boy,” Grandpa Ashford greeted, forcing a warm, apologetic smile. “Victoria acted out of line. I have already given her a piece of my mind.” “She only did this because she loves you so much. She just wanted to make you a little jealous.” “Sit down, talk it out. There’s nothing a husband and wife can’t fix.” Before I could even process the absolute absurdity of that statement, Victoria pointed a manicured finger at my face and shrieked. “You are so utterly despicable, Tony! If you hadn’t gone crying to Grandpa, he wouldn’t have frozen all of Jaxon’s contracts!” I could not help but laugh. “Crying to him? Or did your massive PR circus to bail out a criminal make so much noise that the board of directors noticed?” The icy contempt in my eyes hit her like a physical blow. Her eyes went bloodshot with rage. “You bastard!” She grabbed a heavy, die-cast model jet off the console table and hurled it directly at my head. I dodged instinctively, but a jagged piece of the metal wing grazed my jaw, drawing a thin line of blood. “You ungrateful wretch!” Grandpa Ashford roared, his cane slamming against the hardwood floor. “How dare you raise your hand against your husband! Apologize to him this instant!” Victoria clenched her fists, panic and toxic pride warring in her eyes. “Why should I apologize?! He forced my hand!” I felt the warm trail of blood slide down my neck, soaking into my collar. The last ember of warmth in my chest died out completely. Taking a slow, deep breath, I looked at her with total detachment. “Victoria. We are getting a divorce.” 3 Her eyes widened in absolute shock. “Are you seriously stooping so low as to use the D-word to manipulate me?” “I am warning you, Tony. That toxic behavior won’t work on me!” I did not waste another breath. I pulled the divorce agreement from my jacket, signed it with a heavy stroke of my pen, and pushed it onto the table. “Sign it.” Her mask cracked. Real panic bled into her voice, making it tremble. “Over a stupid plane? You are throwing our marriage away over a piece of metal?” “Jaxon already got manhandled! Nobody is even pressing charges against him anymore… Why do you have to be so incredibly vindictive?” Watching her drown in her own delusions, I closed my eyes, exhausted down to my bones. “That ‘piece of metal’ you keep mocking is my lifeline. It represents billions in research and the safety of this nation.” “It has kept me alive through dogfights over hostile waters. And you handed it over to a plastic entertainer for a photo op?” Victoria froze. All the color drained from her cheeks. “Airplanes all look the same to me… I honestly didn’t know it was that important… Besides, he just took a couple of selfies…” I held up a hand, cutting off her pathetic lies. “The reality is, you bypassed security, gave him access to a lethal weapon, and then burned millions trying to cover his tracks.” “We are done.” Seeing the finality in my eyes, sheer terror finally seized her. Grandpa Ashford scrambled to do damage control. “Tony, she knows she crossed a line. To show you how sorry she is, she just authorized a fifty million dollar donation in military supplies to your base.” “I think you are misinformed, sir. That fifty million was the bribe money she paid to get Jaxon out of a black site. It had absolutely nothing to do with me.” The forced smile on Grandpa Ashford’s face shattered. He began to shake with volcanic fury. “You absolute disgrace! You funneled Ashford corporate funds to save that gigolo?!” Victoria looked completely paralyzed. Seeing me reach for the door handle, she lunged forward, wrapping her arms tightly around my waist. “Tony, the money wasn’t for him! I swear! I felt so guilty, I just wanted to support your unit…” “Please, give me one more chance! I will terminate Jaxon’s contract right now. I swear to god, you will never have to look at him again.” Her nails dug painfully into my ribs. Her voice was wrecked with desperate sobs. “Tony, please. Just trust me one last time. Please?” I looked down at her tear-streaked face. After a long, agonizing silence, I let out a breath. “You have one week. If you actually sever ties with him, we can talk.” She shivered, a look of desperate determination flashing in her tearful eyes. “I promise! You will see!” Surprisingly, she kept her word. That very afternoon, Ashford Corporation issued a brutal public statement, terminating Jaxon and effectively blacklisting him from the industry. Victoria completely completely changed her tune. She became the picture of a devoted, apologetic wife. She canceled her corporate meetings, moved back into our house on the military base, and stuck by my side every second of the day. She even asked to accompany me to the aviation museum to see the retired fighter jets. “Tony, did you fly this one too?” She traced the glass of the exhibit, looking at me with absolute adoration. “You are so incredible.” The golden hour light caught her profile, and for a fleeting second, I saw the girl I had fallen in love with all those years ago. In that quiet museum, my deadened heart gave a faint, reluctant beat. Even Commander Briggs pulled me aside later to offer some fatherly advice. “Marriage is a battlefield of its own, Kingsley. If she is making a genuine effort to fix her fire, maybe let her back in the trench.” Driving back to the base, looking at the soft, hopeful gaze she kept giving me, my resolve softened. Maybe… just maybe, it was worth saving. But the second I stepped into my office, the gate guard rushed in, looking completely panicked. “Colonel Kingsley, sir! Your son is throwing a massive tantrum at the main gate… We don’t know how to handle this!” The blood in my veins turned to ice. In all our years of marriage, Victoria and I never had a child. Whose kid was at the gate?

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1 I am the world’s last Restoration Master, known for healing severe injuries to at least ninety percent of their original state. Yet, I fear and hate this power because of my past life. Back then, old Mr. Grenier paid me a fortune to heal his granddaughter Daisy, who was disfigured in a fire. After six months of work, her looks improved noticeably. His grandson Jason started pursuing me, and Daisy begged me to marry him. I believed they were truly grateful. But on my wedding night, Jason set the bridal chamber on fire, trying to burn me alive. He screamed that I was a fraud—modern medicine could have healed Daisy completely. He blamed me for the death of a girl named Lily, claiming she’d died in despair after I refused to help her. “Let’s see you restore yourself when you’re a charred corpse!” he snarled. Outside, Daisy laughed and shouted, “If not for you, Lily would have cured me! Go to hell!” I burned to ashes, filled with rage. When I opened my eyes, I was back on the day old Mr. Grenier first came, offering his bounty to save Daisy. This time, I just shook my head. “I’m sorry, but her burns are too severe. I can’t restore her face. You should find someone else.” … Old Mr. Grenier seemed to age several years in an instant upon hearing my words. He had exhausted all his resources, consulted the most authoritative experts, yet Daisy Grenier’s appearance remained utterly terrifying. If I didn’t help, Daisy would truly have to live with that face for the rest of her life. “Daisy is my only granddaughter. She has always been so fond of her beauty since childhood. If you don’t step in, Daisy’s life will be ruined.” He looked as if he wanted to kneel directly before me, but I quickly helped him up. Before me, Daisy’s face was horrific, her body covered in scars from surgeries, and her once slender fingers were fused together by the intense heat. In my previous life, I had exerted tremendous effort to restore ninety percent of her appearance. By the later stages, her face and body looked no different from before. Just then, Jason burst through the door, pulling Lily Bell with him, his gaze towards me filled with intense disdain. “Grandpa, this Willow Grey is nothing but a quack! Modern medicine is so advanced, why do we need to beg her?” He quickly pulled Lily in front of old Mr. Grenier, speaking earnestly. “Lily is the one who can save Daisy. She’s already a renowned plastic surgeon in the industry, and she can effortlessly restore Daisy’s appearance to its original state!” “Grandpa, do you want a perfect Daisy or a ninety-percent restored Daisy?” In the last life, Jason never even appeared at my doorstep. Had he also reincarnated? As his words fell, old Mr. Grenier looked at Lily with hopeful eyes. Everyone present had more or less heard of Lily Bell’s reputation as a stoic, goddess-like healer, so their gazes at her held more trust. Lily curled a confident smile. “Of course, I’ve healed more severe injuries than Miss Daisy’s.” “Besides, Miss Daisy is Jason’s sister, so I’ll do everything in my power to restore Miss Daisy’s appearance to its original state.” As she spoke, she looked at me triumphantly. I merely chuckled. “Mr. Grenier, since you’ve found someone who can help your granddaughter, I’ll take my leave.” Jason scoffed as I turned to leave: “Willow Grey, playing hard to get again, are we? This life, Lily will not only save Daisy, but she’ll completely restore Daisy’s appearance.” “If it weren’t for you in the last life, how could Daisy’s face only be restored to ninety percent?!” “You’re nothing but a quack trying to climb the social ladder. Don’t even dream of marrying into the Grenier family this life.” “Evil people like you should suffer all the pain Lily did in the last life.” He whispered, spewing venomous words into my ear. But in the last life, Lily Bell was never assaulted; it was all a play she orchestrated herself to ruin me. Besides, it wasn’t me trying to climb the social ladder; it was Jason who desperately begged me to marry him. With Lily Bell’s medical skills, restoring Daisy Grenier to even thirty percent would be a struggle. Recalling Daisy Grenier’s sinister grin in the previous life, laughing outside the raging fire and urging it to burn fiercer, I turned and left the Grenier mansion. This life, I wouldn’t save her again. 2 As I left the Grenier estate, I saw the very men who had intended to assault Lily Bell in my previous life. They grinned lecherously, surrounding me. “We haven’t had a taste of a Restoration Master yet.” “She looks quite well-endowed, I wonder what she tastes like.” They grabbed my limbs, pinning me firmly to the ground. One by one, my clothes were stripped off, and I struggled to push them away. Seeing my struggle, their actions became even more brutal. Why did they suddenly appear here? Why did they know I was a Restoration Master? I suddenly realized something and looked towards the Grenier mansion’s main gate, incredulously. Jason gently covered Lily Bell’s eyes, watching my humiliated state with a cold sneer. “Lily, don’t look. It’s not for kids. Don’t stain your eyes.” The hatred in my heart spread like a vine throughout my entire body. In the previous life, he blamed me for everything Lily suffered, leading to my fiery death. In this life, he was even finding people to ruin my innocence! Tears of humiliation welled in my eyes. I planned to use the poison needles hidden on my body to kill them. This was the Restoration Master’s last resort for survival, a method not to be used unless in utter despair. Stripped down to just my inner garment, I gathered my strength to strike. The next second, the Miller family suddenly appeared. The leading bodyguards kicked those men away with swift precision. Jason frowned in displeasure when he saw who it was. “Leo, why are you here?” “What are you doing here? Haven’t your sister caused enough trouble for mine?!” Leo ignored him. Who was truly harming whom was clear to everyone present. If Daisy Grenier hadn’t playfully set the fire, how would young Miss Miller have suffered such an unwarranted disaster? Leo hurried to my side, gently helping me up, his tone utterly sincere. “Healer Grey, please, save my sister.” No sooner had he spoken than Jason interjected, his voice dripping with mockery. “You call her a healer? Leo, are you out of your mind? There’s only one true healer, and that’s Lily.” “Let this Willow Grey save your sister? I’m afraid your sister will never be able to look in a mirror again.” “Willow Grey, you’re truly ruthless in your pursuit of marrying into a wealthy family. Disgusting! Seducing me wasn’t enough, now you’re trying to seduce Leo?” Hearing Jason’s comments, Leo quickly shielded me. A cold voice rang out. “Mr. Grenier, you should accumulate some good karma for your sister. Is Healer Grey someone you can slander?” “Whether my sister can look in a mirror again, I don’t know, but your sister likely won’t be able to.” With that, his eyes reddened, and he again pleaded with me to save his sister. I silently recalled his sister’s injuries from the previous life, gaining confidence. His sister, Luna Miller, was not as severely injured as Daisy Grenier. In the previous life, he had also desperately begged me to save his sister, but each time Daisy Grenier had obstructed me in every possible way. Only after I died did I learn. Before the injury, Luna Miller was significantly prettier than Daisy Grenier. Daisy had long disliked Luna. Later, when Daisy’s appearance was restored by ninety percent, she daily taunted Luna, calling her incredibly ugly. A month after that, in the previous life, it was Daisy Grenier’s birthday. She deliberately feigned reconciliation and invited Luna Miller to her birthday party, deceiving Luna into believing no one else would be there. It wasn’t until Luna arrived at the party in a wheelchair that she realized all the prominent figures in the city had gathered there. Ultimately, Luna, unable to bear the strange looks and insults from everyone, committed suicide at home. Until her death, she blamed no one, only mumbling, “I shouldn’t disgrace the Miller family.” Thinking of this, I slowly spoke. “Jason, do you dare to make a bet with me?” “We’ll bet on who dares to show their face at Daisy Grenier’s birthday party a month from now.” 3 “I’m putting my entire fortune plus my Restoration Art on the line against you. Do you dare?” Lily Bell’s eyes flashed with a hint of brilliance when she heard me bet my Restoration Art. But soon, her expression turned disdainful. “How much is your fortune worth? And your Restoration Art might not even be as good as my medical skills.” “Jason, this wager isn’t fair at all.” Jason affectionately ruffled Lily Bell’s head: “It’s just for fun. Ten million, I bet Willow Grey loses.” Lily Bell snuggled coquettishly into Jason’s embrace, pouting sweetly: “Oh, you. Ten million is enough to buy her life. Jason, don’t bully her.” I sneered. “Ten million? Does Mr. Grenier think your own sister is only worth ten million?” “One job for me is worth more than ten million.” “I’ll offer one hundred million. Mr. Grenier, are you in?” Hearing me say this, Jason’s eyes showed strong displeasure, and Lily Bell was so angered her chest heaved. Before Jason could speak, Lily Bell confidently placed his wager. “Of course, we’re in. You’re humiliating Daisy like this, you’re openly challenging the entire Grenier family. We’ll bet one percent of Grenier Industries.” No sooner had she spoken than I burst out laughing. “One percent? Are you trying to pay off a beggar?” Upon hearing my words, Lily Bell’s face turned green then white. “One percent of Grenier Industries is worth at least half a billion! Let’s see if you can match that!” Leo, who had been silent beside me, gently pulled my hand. Then he said, “I’ll bet ten percent of Miller Corporation. Mr. Grenier, are you in?” I wanted to stop him, but he gave me a reassuring look, “There’s a high chance Daisy Grenier caused my sister to be like this. I’ve wanted to get revenge for my sister for a long time. Besides, I trust your skills, Healer Grey.” “Let’s go, saving my sister is the priority.” My heart warmed. Jason looked coldly at Leo, his desire to win almost clouding his judgment. But he still had a sliver of rationality left. Many people were recording with their phones right now; this bet was no joke. As he hesitated, Lily Bell confidently accepted the wager. “Fine, ten percent it is. Willow Grey, I look forward to the day your reputation is ruined and you’re begging on the streets!” Seeing Lily Bell’s confident demeanor, Jason felt much relieved. Jason and I quickly signed the agreement. Before leaving, Jason didn’t forget to mock me from behind. “Willow Grey, being a Healer isn’t for just anyone. I truly look forward to the day your name is dragged through the mud.” I actually agreed with his last statement. Indeed, being a Healer isn’t for just anyone. Upon arriving at the Miller mansion. Luna Miller lay quietly in bed, the Miller family standing by her bedside, all showing looks of heartache. The doctors had done their utmost to repair her, yet they still couldn’t restore Luna to the level of a normal person. I sent everyone away, took a photo of Luna from Leo, and then began the restoration process for Luna. Throughout that entire month, Jason proudly shared Daisy Grenier’s recovery progress with me every day. “I told you Lily’s medical skills are far superior to your so-called Restoration Art!” “Look at my Daisy, she’s about to recover to her original appearance.” “If you admit defeat now, then strip naked and stand in front of Grenier Industries with a sign shouting you’re a whore and a fraud, I can pretend this bet never happened.” I scoffed. Jason hadn’t even noticed that Daisy Grenier’s hands and feet had turned into fleshy lumps, with no trace of finger bones, and even her face had only temporarily rejuvenated. It seemed I had overestimated Lily Bell’s ability to restore Daisy Grenier’s appearance to thirty percent.

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1 Three years ago, on a crisp morning, I stood at the entrance of the academy, clad in a uniform white dress. My parents arrived to pick me up, their faces beaming with satisfaction. Dad spread his arms wide, intending to hug me, but I instinctively recoiled. Following Rule Number Three of the “New Life Protocol,” I performed a perfect bow. “Unnecessary contact within three meters of strangers is prohibited,” I recited, my voice devoid of emotion. They liked me this way—every step measured as if with a ruler, my hands primly clasped in front of me. They liked this rigid version of me. But they’d forgotten the girl I used to be, the most vibrant child in the family. That was before my brother, Richard, was born. After that, every action of mine was deemed a threat to him. I remember his first birthday. I’d spent an entire month, meticulously collecting thousands of parts, to build him a singing castle. The moment it activated, the dazzling lights and mechanical whirring terrified him, making him burst into tears. That night, Dad smashed my castle to pieces, and Mom slapped me for the first time. The next day, I was sent to this secluded institution, ironically named “New Beginnings Academy,” which promised to “remake” children. “Director Feldman, there’s something wrong with my daughter’s mind. Please, make her ‘normal’,” Dad’s eyes were as cold as a winter’s frost back then. He even pledged ten million dollars to the academy and covered all of Feldman’s son’s advanced education expenses. Now, they were finally pleased, because I was “normal.” … Dad’s outstretched arms froze in mid-air. The smile on his face slowly vanished, leaving only bewilderment. Mom hurried over, pulling his arm down firmly, a forced smile plastered on her face. “Look at Eleanor, she’s so well-mannered now, isn’t that wonderful?” She tried to take my hand. I stepped back again, maintaining a three-meter distance. Mom’s smile completely froze. Dad’s face darkened, but he spoke with forced patience: “Eleanor, stop messing around. Let’s go home with Mom and Dad.” I didn’t move, just stared at them expressionlessly. After a full minute, I nodded. “Directive confirmed: Return home.” I turned, my steps precise, each one perfectly identical to the last. They followed silently behind me. The car stopped in front of a familiar villa, but I felt nothing. They led me into a room. Pure white walls, pure white sheets, pure white desk. Aside from necessities, the room held no superfluous decorations. It resembled a high-end hospital room. Dad spoke with a hint of eagerness: “Eleanor, look, your new room. You always complained your old one was messy. You’ll definitely like this.” I scanned the room, then nodded. “Complies with Appendix Two of the ‘New Life Protocol’: Environmental cleanliness standards.” A muscle twitched in Dad’s face. Dinner time. I sat at the dining table, back ramrod straight, hands resting on my lap. Once dinner began, I picked up my chopsticks, only selecting the greens directly in front of me. The number of chews, the timing of sips of water – all strictly adhered to an invisible standard. Mom watched me, her eyes filled with an unspoken heartache. She placed a piece of braised pork into my bowl, piling it up. “Eleanor, you used to love this. Try some.” I put down my chopsticks. Then, right in front of her, I picked up the piece of meat and placed it on an empty side plate. I looked up at her instantly pale face, and calmly recited. “‘New Life Protocol,’ Rule Number Seven: Reject unrequested offerings to curb greed.” “You don’t have to follow those damn rules at home!” Dad finally lost his temper, slamming his hand on the table as he roared. I turned my gaze to him, my eyes utterly devoid of emotion. “Protocols are life. They cannot be violated.” The air was dead silent. Just then, a small boy in an action hero-themed pajama set waddled over. He held up a red action figure, offering it to me. “Ellie, play with me.” It was Richard. I immediately stood from my chair, swiftly stepping back two paces, widening the distance between us. “‘New Life Protocol,’ Rule Number Nineteen: Prohibit contact with entertainment items prone to addiction.” My reaction was swift and mechanical. Four-year-old Richard was startled. He froze, his mouth downturned, and then he burst into a loud sob. His sharp cry pierced the quiet of the dining room. Three years ago, a similar cry led to Dad smashing my castle. History was repeating itself. Mom’s face instantly twisted into an ugly mask. Without thinking, she yelled at me. “You again!” Her voice was shrill, brimming with fury. But when her gaze met my empty eyes, the fire seemed to be doused with a bucket of ice water. Her mouth hung open, the rest of her angry words caught in her throat, replaced by a chill that rose from the depths of her soul. Dad impatiently scooped up the wailing Richard, waving a dismissive hand. “That’s enough! Go back to your room for now!” I didn’t argue. “Directive received.” I turned, my steps measured as if by a ruler, and left the dining room. Behind me, Richard’s incessant crying, and my parents’ increasingly heavy breaths. They had finally gotten a “perfect” daughter. A daughter who was absolutely obedient, absolutely compliant. 2 The next day, Dad tried to compensate me with material things. He bought a brand-new LEGO set, with thousands of pieces. It was the “Star Fortress,” something I used to dream about. He pushed the huge box towards me, a hint of expectation in his eyes. “Eleanor, look, Dad bought this for you.” I walked over, my gaze lingering on the box for three seconds. Then I calmly picked it up, walked to the storage cabinet, and placed it on the highest, most inaccessible shelf. I turned around, meeting his bewildered stare. “‘New Life Protocol,’ Rule Number Fifteen: Prohibit unnecessary complex creative activities to prevent divergent thinking.” Dad’s face instantly turned ashen. The gift he had spent an entire night snatching up was now treated by me like a contraband item to be sealed away. Mom, on the other hand, tried to awaken me with emotions. She pulled out a thick photo album and beckoned to me, wanting me to sit beside her. I remained seated. Seeing this, Mom had no choice but to hold the album up to my face, then pointed at one of the pictures. “Eleanor, look, this is you. So adorable.” In the photo, an eight or nine-year-old girl, wearing a paint-stained T-shirt, smiled brightly at the camera, a little cream still clinging to her teeth. I looked at the photo she pointed to, showing no reaction. After half a minute, I nodded. “Data confirmed: Individual is Eleanor Hayes. Time: Ninth birthday.” I paused, then added. “Emotional response module not activated.” Mom’s hand, holding the album, began to tremble. She looked at Dad for help. Dad’s Adam’s apple bobbed, but he said nothing. That afternoon, Richard was chasing a rubber ball in the living room. He slipped, falling forward, his knee hitting the corner of the coffee table with a thud. “Wah—” A heart-wrenching cry erupted, and blood instantly seeped from his knee. “Richard!” Mom and Dad cried out in alarm, about to rush over. But I was faster. My body activated like an emergency robot, springing into action instantly. I rushed to the medicine cabinet, opened it, and retrieved iodine, cotton swabs, and a band-aid. The entire process was seamless. I quickly walked to Richard, and knelt down. Richard was sobbing uncontrollably, looking at me with fear. I spoke in a flat voice: “Initiating emergency medical procedure. Step one: Cleanse wound.” My fingers were steady as surgical clamps, precisely dipping a cotton swab into iodine and wiping his bleeding wound. I wiped it ten times, changing the swab every five wipes. The wound was irritated, and Richard cried harder, his body starting to squirm. “Directive: Remain still.” I spoke coldly. Richard seemed startled by my voice; his crying paused, and he actually stopped moving. I quickly cleaned, disinfected, and applied the band-aid. After finishing, I stood up and reported to my stunned parents. “Procedure complete. Wound depth approximately two millimeters, length three centimeters.” “Recommend twenty-four-hour observation to prevent infection.” Having said that, I turned to clean the used medical tools. Only Richard’s muffled sobs remained in the living room. Mom looked at my meticulous back, her lips trembling, and finally spoke. “You used to… even if he just scraped his knee, you’d cry harder than him…” I stopped what I was doing and looked back at her. My eyes were empty, as if analyzing an incomprehensible word. “Cry?” I tilted my head, seemingly searching my database for this directive. A few seconds later, I provided the answer. “Database contains no relevant directive.” At that moment, I clearly saw fear, for the first time, creep onto their faces. They were finally starting to realize. What they had personally erased was not just my so-called “flaws.” But also my “humanity.” 3 Late at night. I lay on the pure white bed, my body trapped in an invisible cage. Nightmares surged like a tide. “Subject 734, violating solitude protocol, thinking thoughts unrelated to regulations.” “Punishment… waterboarding…” “No… don’t…” “Alert, alert! Emotional fluctuation exceeding limit! Initiating electric shock…” I began to struggle violently in bed, my forehead slick with cold sweat, teeth clenched, uttering incoherent murmurs. “Pain… I’m sorry…” My parents, in the adjacent room, were woken. They rushed into my room, flicked on the light, and saw me in such agony. “Eleanor!” Mom cried out, tears instantly streaming down her face, her heart aching. She rushed to the bedside, reaching out to hug me, to wipe the cold sweat from my forehead. “Don’t be scared, Eleanor, Mommy’s here, Mommy’s here…” The moment her hand touched my skin. I snapped my eyes open. Those eyes, no longer holding the blankness of daytime, were filled with pure, extreme terror and pain. Like a cornered wild animal. “Alert! Alert! Violating ‘New Life Protocol’ Rule Number Three! Unnecessary contact with a stranger!” I used all my strength, pushing her away. “Initiating Level Two Punishment!” The piercing alarm seemed to ring only in my mind. I shot up from the bed, clutching my head tightly with both hands, my body beginning to convulse violently and uncontrollably. My teeth gnashed audibly, and a guttural, beast-like groan escaped my throat. It was a pure, physiological reaction to pain. Mom and Dad were utterly stunned by the scene before them. They stood frozen, watching me convulse and spasm on the bed, yet not daring to take a step closer. A few seconds, yet it felt like centuries. The convulsions suddenly stopped. I released my hands from my head, slowly sat upright, as straight as a spear. The eyes that had just been filled with pain and terror once again became a dead, empty void. As if that fierce struggle just now had been nothing but a hallucination. I looked up, meeting their horrified gazes, and said in a frighteningly calm voice: “System malfunction resolved.” “Please leave. It is rest time.” Dad’s lips trembled; he couldn’t utter a single word. Mom collapsed onto the floor, looking at me, so utterly different, a chilling dread spreading from her feet to the top of her head. The hell they had personally created, named “discipline.” Dad spent the entire night in the living room, calling Director Feldman, but no one answered. It wasn’t until nine the next morning that the call finally went through. “Director Feldman! What the hell did you do to my daughter?!” “What is that punishment mechanism!?” On the other end of the line, Director Feldman’s voice sounded genteel, even with a hint of a smile. “Mr. Hayes, calm down. That’s our latest ‘deep sleep therapy,’ guiding the subconscious to correct undesirable behaviors. Occasional rejection reactions are quite normal.” “Normal? She was convulsing like a madwoman! Yelling ‘electric shock’! ‘Waterboarding’!” Dad’s voice trembled with rage. The laughter on the other end ceased, and Director Feldman’s tone instantly turned cold. “Mr. Hayes, you personally requested that we use the most efficient and thorough methods to make her ‘normal’ in the first place.” Dad’s breath hitched. Director Feldman continued unhurriedly, his voice like a venomous snake. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. My son just received a full scholarship to MIT and will be leaving next month.” “We owe that entirely to your generous ten-million-dollar donation, Mr. Hayes.” “Our whole family remembers this kindness.” Naked blackmail. He used his son’s future, and that ten-million-dollar “donation,” to silence all of Dad’s questions. Dad slammed the phone down with a bang. I heard the muffled thud of his fist hitting the table, and his repressed, animalistic gasps. He was caught in the grip of the monster he had personally created. Meanwhile, Mom was frantic. She frantically searched online for any information about “New Beginnings Academy.” Aside from a torrent of glowing reviews on their official website, she found nothing. Just as she was about to despair, she finally discovered an encrypted parent forum. She paid someone to crack the password. Inside, was a hell entirely different from the official website. Line after line, word after word, were accusations of blood and tears.

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1 Six years ago, my life plunged into an abyss. My daughter suddenly fell gravely ill, and the exorbitant medical bills loomed over me like a mountain, crushing my spirit. My husband, Eric, not only chose to abandon her treatment but also ran straight into the arms of his childhood sweetheart, Gisele Evans. Just as I was consumed by despair, my first love, Jake Hall, appeared. Without a word, he transferred five million dollars into my account and stayed by my side, helping me care for our daughter. But fate was cruel, and our daughter ultimately couldn’t be saved. She left me forever. Now, six years later, Jake and I have built a new life, and I’m pregnant with our child. That day, I went to the hospital alone for a prenatal check-up. In the hallway, I unexpectedly overheard Jake and the doctor’s conversation. The doctor asked him with concern, “Mr. Hall, you and Ms. Thompson now have a child. What if what happened back then comes to light?” Jake’s answer pierced my heart like a cold knife: “Gisele was so sick back then, I had no choice but to use some means to transplant the child’s heart to her. Besides, Ruth is pregnant again now; she should have moved on from the past.” It was only at that moment that I realized my daughter had been deliberately misdiagnosed. Her heart, it turned out, had been secretly taken by Jake and transplanted into Gisele Evans! … Hearing this, tears silently streamed down my face. It turned out the baby in my belly wasn’t the fruit of love between Jake and me, but merely an offering of atonement. These past six years of our relationship were nothing but Jake’s elaborate act, all for Gisele Evans, the one true love of his life. I gently touched my slightly swollen belly, a bitter smile twisting my lips. Six years ago, I couldn’t save my daughter. Now, I refuse to continue this cursed entanglement. In the hospital office, the doctor sighed softly, a hint of regret in his voice: “Alright, Mr. Hall, but is this truly worth it? Gisele is already married, and you should be living your own life. After all, Ms. Thompson loves you so much; she’s a good woman.” Jake paused, then answered firmly: “Of course it’s worth it. I don’t care about titles, as long as I can protect Gisele. She can love whoever she wants; I just want her to be healthy and happy.” “As for Ruth Thompson, she is indeed wonderful. She’s a good wife and will be a good mother. Unfortunately, I don’t love her. You can’t force love.” Hearing Jake say this, the doctor shook his head, asking no further questions. “Ms. Thompson’s pregnancy is very unstable. She’s a woman who’s suffered greatly, having already lost one child. Please, be good to her and this child.” Silence stretched for a long time on the other end, until Jake finally uttered a soft “Mmm.” I bit hard on my lip, stubbornly refusing to make a sound. It wasn’t until Jake and the doctor left that I dared to sob openly. So, my daughter, who had been born just a few days earlier, hadn’t died of illness, but had been deliberately misdiagnosed by a doctor bribed by Jake. All for a fresh heart to be transplanted into Gisele Evans. Back then, when my daughter was diagnosed with a severe illness and admitted to the intensive care unit, my husband, Eric Vance, unwilling to bear the burden, walked out of the hospital and into the arms of his childhood sweetheart, Gisele. Jake’s appearance was the only light in our lives. Now, it seemed Jake’s helping hand was merely to better oversee this heart that belonged to Gisele. After divorcing Eric, Jake marrying me was probably just out of guilt. Leaving the hospital, a heavy rain began to fall. I didn’t hail a cab, stumbling along like a drowned rat. The rain mixed with my tears; I’d lost count of how many times I’d cried. When I got home, the housekeeper saw my disheveled state and rushed to meet me: “Madam, why didn’t you call the driver to pick you up in this rain? You’re pregnant; getting soaked isn’t good for you.” Hearing the commotion, Jake emerged from his study. Seeing my red eyes and messy hair, a flicker of something that looked like concern crossed his face. He set down his coffee and swept me into his arms. Jake’s tone held a hint of scolding: “You’re about to be a mother, and you’re still as willful as a child.” “Not to mention catching a cold, what if you hurt the baby? I don’t know what to do with you.” I glanced at him, muttering: “Jake, I’ve been a mother before. I don’t need you to teach me.” “If the baby dies, it dies. I’ve already lost one child anyway.” Jake’s steps faltered. He frowned deeply but ultimately said nothing. The bathtub was already filled with hot water. Jake tried to help me undress, but I refused. Jake looked at me suspiciously, seemingly puzzled by my uncharacteristic behavior. After a long standoff, Jake left the bathroom. I scrubbed myself repeatedly with shower gel, trying to wash away every trace Jake had left on me over the years. 2 By the time I returned to the bedroom, Jake was fast asleep. Looking at the profile of the man I’d lived with day in and day out, I felt an unsettling unfamiliarity. In a hazy dream, Jake reached for my hand. “Don’t go. Stay with me forever.” “Gisele.” Jake’s face was etched with infinite tenderness and dependence, an expression he had never shown me. The next second, Jake’s phone lit up. It was a message from “Princess Gisele.” I tried several times to unlock his phone, but none of the passwords worked. My birthday, Jake’s birthday, even Gisele’s birthday—nothing. On my last attempt, I tried the date my daughter died. Unexpectedly, it worked. I almost forgot, the day my daughter died, Gisele received a new life with her heart. It turned out Jake had been silently loving Gisele in such a meticulous way all this time. In the chat, Gisele had sent a few photos. In the pictures, Gisele’s smile was even more dazzling than the warm sun in March. She clung to Jake’s side like a fragile bird, and Jake, with a somewhat stiff movement, made a heart shape with her. “Jay, it’s so much more fun going to the amusement park with you. Eric is so boring compared to you.” “You promised to go to that photoshoot with me tomorrow. See you then, love you.” Jake and Gisele looked like a couple deeply in love, making me feel like a clown peeking into someone else’s happiness. But tomorrow was the day Jake promised to accompany me to my prenatal check-up. So, which was more important, the child or the woman he loved? That night, I didn’t sleep a wink. I was gambling. If Jake chose to accompany me to the prenatal check-up tomorrow, then, for the sake of this new life, I would give him another chance. The next morning, Jake was up early, getting ready to leave. Jake’s face was alight with triumph. Just before he stepped out the door, I tugged at his sleeve. “Jake, where are you going? Didn’t you say you’d come with me to my prenatal check-up?” Jake’s smile vanished. After a long moment of thought, he gently patted my hand. “Ruth, I’m sorry, I have a very important meeting today. I can’t accompany you to the hospital right now.” “You’re so understanding, you’ll surely understand how hard your husband works, right?” “You even said yesterday that you have experience with having children, and everything will go smoothly without me.” Seeing me look down without speaking, Jake smiled and kissed my forehead. “Be a good girl, I’ll bring you a present when I get back.” With that, Jake left without a backward glance. Watching Jake’s retreating back, this time, I completely gave up hope. I checked the nearest flights to Sterling City and called my best friend. The flight was the night after tomorrow. Once I landed in Sterling City, I would officially bid farewell to everything here. 3 I put on some light makeup to make myself look less haggard. I went to the best law firm in the city, consulting on the divorce procedures and the matter of my daughter’s misdiagnosis leading to her death. For the divorce, the lawyer quickly drafted the papers. However, to pursue Jake and Gisele’s responsibility, more evidence was needed. That evening, I personally prepared a candlelight dinner and opened two bottles of Jake’s prized red wine. When Jake returned home and saw me sitting quietly at the dining table, he first paused, then smiled knowingly. “Ruth, you should leave these things to the housekeeper. You’re my wife; you just need to live in comfort.” He smiled and pulled me into his embrace. We were so close; I could even smell the intoxicating rose perfume, distinctly feminine, on him. I asked Jake when he started wearing such a flamboyant and common perfume. Jake seemed a little guilty. He sniffed his collar, then quickly explained: “Oh, the person I met in the meeting today was the female CEO of the Lunar Group. It’s normal to accidentally get some on me.” “What, Ruth, are you doubting me? Are you still upset that I didn’t go to your prenatal check-up? I’ve already explained it; I thought you would understand.” A person with a guilty conscience is always quick to confess without being prompted. I had only asked a simple question, and I was met with a torrent of accusations. Seeing my silence, Jake changed the subject, pulling out a delicate emerald necklace from his pocket and putting it around my neck. “Ruth, don’t be mad. This is a special gift I brought for you. There’s only one in the world, unique. Do you like it?” The emerald necklace glowed with a dark green luster under the candlelight, utterly beautiful. I ran my fingertips over the cool, smooth necklace. In our six years of marriage, after every cold war, Jake would give me jewelry. But what good were all these treasures when they couldn’t change the fact of his infidelity, couldn’t change the fact that my daughter had been murdered? Seeing that I finally managed a smile, Jake began to sample the meal I had prepared. Jake praised my cooking lavishly. But in the end, he only took a few bites. After all, someone who had already “eaten” elsewhere naturally wouldn’t have an appetite for home-cooked food. During the meal, I plied Jake with several glasses of wine, and he quickly passed out in bed. While Jake was drunk, I secretly slipped into his study, trying to find some evidence that my daughter had been deliberately killed. After a thorough search, I only found a document from six years ago regarding organ transplantation. In the document, Jake had signed the organ transplant contract on my behalf, as my spouse. No wonder Jake had been so eager to marry me back then; it was just so his precious Gisele could recover sooner. I photographed the document, then put it back in its original place, along with the divorce agreement, which I packaged and sent to an email, setting a countdown for it to send. The moment the plane took off, these documents would all be sent to Jake’s inbox. 4 The next day, I was woken by Jake. He’d squeezed toothpaste for me, just like before, and even tried his hand at cooking in the kitchen, looking quite serious about it. As I brushed my teeth, he gently wrapped his arms around my waist from behind: “Ruth, I was wrong. How could I let you go to such an important prenatal check-up alone? How about I go with you today?” Before I could reply, Jake ruffled my hair, smiling shyly and sweetly. Watching Jake busy himself in the kitchen, a wave of bitterness washed over me. Jake, you’re always so inconsistent. Six years. It took me six years to realize I’d never truly seen you. Forget it. I don’t love you anymore, and I don’t need to understand you from now on. When Jake and I arrived at the hospital, Gisele Evans was there too. But Gisele was at the dermatology department. As a popular celebrity, Gisele was surrounded by fans wherever she went. From afar, I could hear the fans whispering: “Poor Gisele, she just recovered from a serious illness two years ago, and now she’s back in the hospital.” “Don’t worry, Gisele will be fine. This hospital is the top hospital in the city.” “And the actual controlling shareholder of this hospital is Jake Hall. He’s our Gisele’s rumored boyfriend, her biggest fan. He’ll definitely use all his power to protect her.” “Wow, a popular celebrity and a CEO, they sound like such a perfect match.” The next second, Gisele’s eyes locked onto Jake in the crowd. She shouted his name. The fans all turned to look at Jake and me. Gisele ran towards Jake, clinging intimately to his arm. “Jay, it’s all your fault for insisting on taking me for king crab yesterday. It gave me allergies. So, are you here to accompany me today specifically? Well, I’ll begrudgingly forgive you then.” Jake glanced at me, then at Gisele. Finally, he smiled and nodded at Gisele. The surrounding fans all looked like they were eating up the drama. I knew, this time, Jake was going to abandon me again. I stared intently at Jake’s face, enunciating each word: “Jake, didn’t you say you were coming with me to my prenatal check-up?” The passersby now looked even more surprised, as if they’d stumbled upon major gossip. A flicker of emotion crossed Jake’s eyes. Just as he was about to step towards me, Gisele pulled him back. The look Gisele gave me no longer held her previous innocence; it was sharp and triumphant. “Jay, isn’t she just your housekeeper? Sending her to the hospital is already generous enough; there’s no need to accompany her for a prenatal check-up.” “If that got out, people would think the baby is yours. It would really damage your reputation and the company’s.” Hearing Gisele’s words, the passersby suddenly understood, looking at me with endless disdain. Jake’s lips moved, but he ultimately didn’t utter a single word in my defense, allowing Gisele to lead him away. Leaving me alone, stunned, in place.

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1 The next thing I knew, I found myself reborn on the stage of the Hatfield family’s annual music gala. This gathering of Silver City’s top elite, nominally a musical feast, was in reality a meticulously arranged matchmaking event. My sister and I had both received invitations. According to strict custom, the debutantes were to wear masks and enter the inner hall in turns to perform. In my previous life, I had been inside for nearly twenty minutes when my sister, Anya, grew impatient. The moment I emerged, she immediately conspired with the music professor, accusing me of plagiarizing her sheet music. Faced with two identical scores, I had no way to argue. My parents wouldn’t listen to my explanations, directly pinning the plagiarism on me, all to protect Anya’s reputation. They even forcibly committed me to a mental institution, leaving me there to endure endless torment. After finally escaping, I met a tragic end in a car crash meticulously orchestrated by Anya. It wasn’t until my dying breath that I understood: the so-called blood ties were utterly fragile in the face of my sister’s hypocritical lies. This time, I simply played a mobile game right on stage, not even touching a musical instrument. I was eager to see how she would manage to pin the “plagiarism” label on me now. … Whack! The moment I stepped into the lounge, a resounding slap landed squarely on my face. I turned my head, my messy strands of hair concealing the icy glint in my eyes. The one who struck me was none other than my own mother, Eleanor Thompson. At this moment, she was pointing a finger at my nose, her well-maintained face contorted with fury. “Scarlett Hayes, you shameless wretch! How dare you steal your sister’s hard-earned musical score to curry favor!” “This is the prestigious Hatfield family’s estate! How could you use such a despicable trick?!” The lounge was packed: curious socialites, discreet media reporters secretly recording, and my sister, Anya Hayes, standing nearby, her face a mask of “heartfelt anguish.” “Mom… please don’t hit Scarlett anymore. If people see the handprint on her face, they’ll misunderstand you.” “It’s my fault… I knew Scarlett had lived a tough life in the countryside and was desperate to marry into a rich family, but I still didn’t guard against her, leaving my score manuscript on the table.” “Scarlett just wants a man like Mr. Hatfield too badly; she didn’t mean to steal my hard work to impress him.” “If Mr. Hatfield gets furious and implicates the Hayes family, then… then just blame it all on me!” “As a sister, it’s okay for me to suffer a little…” By the end, her voice was laced with a sob. What a truly moving performance. Every word she uttered spoke of her magnanimity, yet every word also subtly reminded our parents—that I was shameless, that I stole her hard work, that I was a hussy trying to hook a man, and that I would even bring ruin upon the entire Hayes family. In my previous life, she loved to sow discord between my parents and me this way. Sure enough, Mom, Eleanor, looked at me as if I were her enemy: “What a cripple, sick in body and twisted in mind!” “You fix the mess you’ve made this time. If you implicate your sister, you’ll regret it!” With that, she glared at me, her disgust practically spilling from her eyes. Even after dying once, hearing those words again, my heart still ached. When I was born, I was diagnosed with a minor heart condition. The doctors said no surgery was needed; with proper care, it would naturally heal as I grew older. But my parents despised me as a “defective product.” Three weeks after my birth, they sent me to live with my grandmother in the countryside. The following year, they had another healthy child—my sister, Anya Hayes. It wasn’t until my grandmother passed away that my parents reluctantly took me back. The first night in that house, Mom, Dad, and Anya sat chatting on the sofa while I washed dishes in the kitchen. Anya’s innocent yet cruel voice rang out: “Mom, Dad, since you don’t like Scarlett, why did you even bring her back?” My hands paused, a strange tension gripping my heart. “Who would want to bring her back if we weren’t afraid of people saying the Hayes family was cold-hearted and abandoned their own flesh and blood?” Mom’s voice was gentle, yet her words were the most cutting. “She’s just an unhealthy, defective product. Not like our Anya, who’s been a perfect little princess since childhood.” “In this house, she’s barely a maid. You don’t need to pay her any mind.” Plop! The porcelain bowl in my hand fell into the sink, splashing water and suds onto my face. I reached into the water to retrieve the bowl, but I couldn’t grasp it. From then on, I knew not all parents would love their children, especially when they deemed you less than “perfect.” 2 This gala was a private event. Each girl wore a mask and entered the inner hall in the order on the list to perform her talent, hoping to win the favor of the Hatfield heir. On the list, number 24 was my name, directly following Anya Hayes. After noticing I had been inside for nearly twenty minutes, Anya panicked. After all, she had been escorted out by an assistant less than five minutes after her performance, while I, the “sickly weakling” despised by the whole family, had managed to stay in there for so long. How could she not be jealous? So, she conspired with her long-time music professor, Professor Davis, to accuse me of plagiarizing her work. And my biased mother, Eleanor Thompson, didn’t hesitate for a moment, directly condemning me. “Mom, you say I plagiarized, but where’s the proof?” I looked at her calmly, no emotion detectable in my voice. Eleanor froze, seemingly surprised that I, usually so timid, would actually argue back. Then, her anger intensified. “Proof? Professor Davis already laid the evidence on the table, and you still dare to quibble?!” Professor Davis was a typical opportunist. Ever since I was brought back to the Hayes family from the countryside, she had disliked me. That was because my music theory knowledge was poor, and my personality was dull. Anya, on the other hand, had received top-tier artistic training since childhood, had excellent musicality, and was her most prized student. “Anya is just too kind. This wild girl from the countryside, her roots are rotten; she’s nothing but trouble!” Professor Davis scoffed, slamming a stack of photocopied “sheet music manuscripts” onto my face. “This is ‘Starfall Nocturne,’ which Anya composed for tonight’s grand event, working on it for three months!” “Just now, I found an identical photocopy in your bag. The notes, rhythm, even the fingering markings for the cadenza are exactly the same.” “You both performed individually, so no one knew what the other played.” “But you can barely read sheet music. If you didn’t steal your sister’s work, how could you have stayed in there for so long?” “Once Mr. Hatfield comes out, we’ll expose you! We’ll let him see what a morally corrupt thief you are!” Hearing this, everyone around me pointed fingers, their eyes full of disdain. “I heard the Hayes’ eldest daughter, brought back from the countryside, was jealous of her sister. Didn’t realize she was so vicious.” “Plagiarist! So embarrassing, just to marry into a rich family.” “A defective product is a defective product. You can’t turn into a phoenix by stealing a peacock’s feathers.” Seeing the situation, Anya feigned an air of righteousness, stepping forward as if to take my hand: “Scarlett, if you really like Mr. Hatfield, I can help you.” “But you shouldn’t resort to stealing like this…” “Don’t touch me!” I yanked my hand away. I didn’t even push her; she simply cried out, stumbled back a few steps, and landed on her backside. I instinctively reached out to help her up, but my arm was violently slapped away. “What are you trying to do?!” The person who struck me was my father, Robert Hayes, CEO of Hayes Industries. He glared at me furiously, then turned to help Anya up, his eyes full of concern. Anya, her eyes brimming with tears, was embraced by Mom and Dad, her body completely unharmed. My arm, however, was already swollen and bruised where I’d been hit. It was clear Robert hadn’t held back his strength at all. “Anya, Daddy’s late. Are you feeling alright anywhere?” my father asked solicitously. “I’m fine, Dad. As long as Scarlett is happy, it’s okay if she hits me,” Anya squeezed out two tears, her voice sounding wronged. “It’s just… Scarlett was in there for a full twenty minutes.” “I’m worried she might have done something shameful to please Mr. Hatfield…” “What if Mr. Hatfield thinks all the Hayes daughters are as flighty as Scarlett? Our family’s reputation would be completely ruined!” 3 Hearing Anya’s words, Robert’s face had already darkened. Professor Davis, not missing a beat, stepped forward to fan the flames: “Mr. Hayes, Anya is absolutely right!” “Not only did that girl steal the score, but she stayed in there for so long. Who knows what vulgar tricks she used to seduce Mr. Hatfield!” “According to the rules of the music world, for plagiarism, her hands should be broken directly! Let’s see how she’ll go out and flaunt herself after that!” Hearing this, Robert turned around, raising his hand to slap me again. This time, I didn’t let him. I sidestepped, grabbing his wrist. “Dad, before you act, it’s best to understand the situation.” Robert looked at me in disbelief, seemingly shocked by my resistance. “Rebellion… sheer rebellion!” “You ungrateful daughter! Not only are you shameless for plagiarizing, but now you dare to strike an elder?” “Understand the situation? The situation is that you are shameless, plagiarizing Anya’s music, trying to steal her chance at marriage!” Robert’s eyes turned sinister, and he roared at the bodyguards behind him: “Pin her down for me!” “Since her hands like to stray onto the wrong path, like to steal other people’s achievements, then break her hands for me! Let’s see how she’ll play the piano after this!” Eleanor watched coldly from the side, even chiming in: “She deserves a lesson! To stop her from thinking her looks give her license to ruin the Hayes family name!” Extreme favoritism, extreme malice. In my previous life, they used these very tactics, step by step, to break my spirit and drive me mad. The two bodyguards guarding the door moved at once, stepping forward to seize me. “Hold on.” I took a step back, pulling a folding knife from my pocket. The blade glinted coldly under the crystal chandelier. “Anyone who dares to touch me, I don’t mind seeing some blood here today.” “The desperate have nothing to lose. You’ve already pushed me to a dead end, so taking a few of you down with me wouldn’t be a loss.” I idly toyed with the blade, my gaze sweeping over the three Hayes family members and Professor Davis. The entire room fell silent. Everyone was intimidated by the ferocity emanating from me. Eleanor shrieked, pulling Anya behind her: “You… what do you want? Are you going to murder someone now?” Robert was trembling with rage: “Mad… you’re truly mad! I’m sending you to a mental institution!” “A mental institution?” I scoffed. “A fine place, indeed. But before I go, we need to settle accounts.” I pointed the knife tip at the stack of “evidence” on Professor Davis’s table. “Professor Davis, you accuse me of plagiarizing Anya. Is this sheet music manuscript your evidence?” Professor Davis swallowed, maintaining her bravado. “That’s right! Is that not enough?” “Then I’d like to ask, since you claim I’m a loser who can’t even read sheet music, how could I have stayed in there for twenty minutes with just this rough manuscript?” “Could it be that my sister’s title of ‘genius composer’ is merely for show, and her performance was worse than even a beginner like me?” I paused, my gaze piercing: “Or are you, along with Anya, deliberately planting this so-called manuscript in my bag beforehand, just waiting for me to come out so you can blame me?” Professor Davis’s face paled, then she shrieked even more frantically: “You stop making baseless accusations! Anya’s excellence is obvious to everyone, why would she frame you?” “The score was found in your shabby canvas bag, caught red-handed! You just won’t admit it until you’re staring at your coffin!” The more frantic she became, the calmer I remained. “Professor Davis, calm down. If you can’t be sure about the score, can you be sure… that I actually played music on stage?” Hearing this, Anya’s heart sank, an ominous premonition washing over her. “Scarlett, stop being so stubborn,” she said, feigning composure. “The performance schedule clearly has your name, right after mine. How could you not have performed?” “I practiced until my fingertips bled every day to compose ‘Starfall Nocturne.’ Not only did you steal it to seduce Mr. Hatfield, but now you’re trying to bite me back? Do you even have a heart…?” “Oh, really?” I put away the folding knife, looking directly at her. “Then how about we request to view the gala’s video footage right now?” “I’m quite curious myself how exactly I ‘plagiarized’ you.”

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1 I’ll never forget that absurd night. I was young, naive, and buzzing with a restless energy back then. My boss, Alan Treadwell, had been drugged at a company event, his mind a haze. As his assistant, I made a terrible mistake, and we ended up… together. Afterward, I was terrified. I snuck away, thinking no one would ever know. Alan went ballistic, tearing the company apart trying to find the culprit, but he never traced it back to me. I secretly congratulated myself for hiding so well. Days turned into weeks, and I slowly pushed the whole incident out of my mind. But then, just a few months later, my body started to change. My belly began to swell. … “Still no sign of them, Morgan?” Alan Treadwell leaned back in his office chair, crossing one leg over the other, his face a thundercloud. I nervously reported, “Mr. Treadwell, still no leads. The person was highly cautious, avoiding all surveillance.” Alan pulled out a lighter and lit a cigarette. “I’m giving you three more days. If you still haven’t found them, don’t bother showing up for work.” I nodded frantically. “Understood, Mr. Treadwell.” As I turned to leave, I bravely asked, “Mr. Treadwell, if you find them, what do you plan to do?” He flicked his ash, narrowing his eyes. “Dare to climb into my bed, and I’ll make sure they vanish without a trace.” I swallowed hard. Walking out of his office, a chill ran down my spine. Back at my desk, I found a cushion for my chair. Slowly, carefully, I sat down, then reached up to rub my aching lower back. Damn it! Oh, how I regretted it. How could I have fallen for Alan’s charm? Why didn’t I push his hand away when it brushed my waist? A night of pleasure, a lifetime of trouble. Two nights ago, I’d accompanied Alan to a corporate mixer. It was a chaotic affair, and somehow, he ended up ingesting something illicit. As I helped him back to his suite, the drug started to kick in. I was reaching for my phone to call for help when I felt a warm hand on my waist. “Morgan, you always look good in a suit.” “Your waist… it’s so slender.” “And your backside… very nice.” Alan was burning up. In a few quick movements, he shed his suit jacket. Beneath his white shirt, muscles rippled, threatening to burst through the fabric. Such beauty, it was hard to resist. I didn’t run. In a daze, I found myself tangled with Alan. We burned through half the night like wildfire. It wasn’t until every inch of my body ached that I fully sobered up. Damn it! What had I done? While Alan was still deep in sleep, I hastily dressed and fled the scene. 2 By morning, Alan had called an emergency meeting. He furiously demanded that the person who’d been in his bed be found. I tentatively asked, “Mr. Treadwell, was it a man or a woman?” Alan snapped, “A woman.” A few seconds later, he corrected himself, “It was a man.” The surveillance manager’s face went ashen, and he shot me a helpless look. Internally, I was thanking my lucky stars. Alan not only didn’t know it was me, but he also hadn’t discovered my secret of being intersex. I cautiously asked, “Mr. Treadwell, can we confirm the gender? It would make the search easier.” Alan scowled. “Man or woman, I want them found.” That same afternoon, the person who’d drugged him was found. It was an old rival of Alan’s. Alan ground the man’s hand under his heel, eliciting a guttural scream. I sat there on pins and needles, silently praying: Please, don’t let Alan ever find out it was me that night. Now, Alan had given me only three days. If I failed again, I was out of a job. Between a mysterious, gruesome death and losing my job, I’d obviously choose the latter. These past few days, the entire executive office had been shrouded in a dark cloud. Alan was in a foul mood, lashing out at anyone for the slightest misstep. Colleagues walked on eggshells. I began preparing my work handover. When the three days were up, I submitted my resignation to Alan. “Mr. Treadwell, I apologize. I failed to complete the task you assigned.” He took the resignation letter, pondered for a moment, then finally tore it up, annoyance etched on his face. “Forget it.” “They were too cunning. You’ve worked hard these past few days. Take two days off.” Holy cow! Not only did I keep my job, but I also got two days off. A silver lining indeed! My smile was practically splitting my face. “Thank you, Mr. Treadwell!” Alan’s gaze lingered on me for a long moment, his eyes complex. “Morgan, was it really not you who brought me back to my room that night? I remember…” He trailed off mid-sentence. I quickly replied, “No, it really wasn’t me. I had too much to drink that night too. It was hotel staff who helped you back. You probably just dreamed of me, Mr. Treadwell.” I added playfully, “How honored I am to appear in your dreams.” Alan’s expression immediately turned peculiar. He cleared his throat and waved his hand. “Alright, you’re dismissed.” 3 Two months passed uneventfully. Until, that is, I once again found myself excusing myself to the restroom to throw up during a meeting with Alan. Alan finished signing, handed me the documents, and in a rare moment of concern, said, “If you’re not feeling well, go to the doctor. Don’t push yourself.” “You don’t need to come in this afternoon.” I took my paid leave and went to the hospital for a check-up. I’d been experiencing persistent nausea and loss of appetite, so I figured it was a stomach issue. To my utter shock, the doctor delivered news that made my jaw drop. “Congratulations, you’re pregnant.” Damn it! One shot, and I hit the jackpot? Should I be praising Alan or myself? I walked out of the doctor’s office, my steps unsteady. Abortion? I hesitated. Because of my unique biological makeup, I was an abandoned child. I grew up in an orphanage and received sponsorship throughout my education. Since starting work, I’d accumulated some savings. Many times, I’d considered having a child of my own. I’d even consulted a sperm bank. But I never acted on it. Now, by a twist of fate… Alan was handsome, rich, brilliant, and highly educated. You probably couldn’t find his kind even in a sperm bank. I didn’t hesitate much before deciding to keep the baby. I immediately thought about resigning. The secret of that night would eventually come out. For instance, Alan’s gaze had grown increasingly strange lately. He kept asking me odd questions. “Morgan, do you have a mole on your lower back?” I quickly denied it. If he found out I was pregnant, he’d eventually connect the dots. In his office, Alan frowned, looking at my resignation letter. “Too busy lately?” “Perhaps I should hire another assistant, and give you a raise while I’m at it.” Holy hell! So tempting. Typical capitalist, only offering these things when I’m trying to quit? I tearfully declined. “Mr. Treadwell, you’re great, but I want a change of pace.” Alan hesitated for a long time before signing the resignation letter. He handed it back to me, his gaze sincere: “Treadwell Enterprises will always welcome you back.” 4 Opening the door after work, a little bundle of joy, a tiny human, launched itself at me. His voice, soft and sweet, chimed, “Daddy!” “I haven’t seen you in nine hours, and I missed you so, so much.” I quickly knelt, catching him in my arms, and peppered his chubby cheeks with kisses. “Daddy missed you too, Finn.” Four years after resigning, I moved to a different city. I found a new job. Here, I rented an apartment and hired a nanny to look after Finn Morgan. Life was peaceful and happy. “Daddy, today Ms. Wendy took me out to play, and Lily and Rose fought over who got to hold my hand.” I chuckled, listening to him. Gazing at my son’s adorable, handsome face, I couldn’t help but marvel at the power of genetics. His looks were undeniable; he could easily be a child model. And in other ways, he perfectly inherited the best of both Alan and me. His intelligence had been astounding since he was small. He walked and talked earlier than other kids his age. Now, at only three, he already recognized many letters and numbers. Basic math was a breeze, and he was even learning English from TV. Just as I was swelling with pride, Finn suddenly blurted out, “Daddy, I need to check the cards!” “Shine my shoes!” My eyes rolled back, and a headache bloomed. This kid, he just couldn’t handle a compliment. “Who taught you that?” Finn blinked. “Jake and the others were all saying it.” No sooner had he spoken than he gave me the middle finger. “Daddy, this is a gesture I learned today. What does it mean?” I pulled him onto my lap, my voice serious. “Finn, you can’t make that gesture anymore. It means disrespect.” Finn nestled into my arms and nodded. “Daddy, I know. Don’t be mad.” I said gently, “Daddy’s not mad.” A child’s environment is crucial. I’d rented this place because it was close to work and affordable. Now, Finn was nearing school age. I planned to buy a house in a better neighborhood. The next morning, I awoke to Finn’s little foot, draped over me, burning hot. My heart clenched as I quickly felt his forehead. A high fever. I rushed him to the emergency room for IV fluids. Afterward, Finn’s spirits lifted considerably. When we left the hospital, he walked on his own, holding my hand, no longer needing to be carried. “Watch out, don’t bump into anyone.” No sooner had I spoken than Finn collided with someone’s leg. I was about to apologize when I recognized the person. It was Alan Treadwell. He wore a long trench coat, and the familiar scent of his old cologne wafted from him. What was this? Four years later, he seemed even more handsome. 5 Finn looked up, politely saying, “Excuse me, sir.” Alan looked at me, then at Finn. “Morgan, long time no see.” He glanced at Finn, a question in his eyes. “Is this yours?” I smiled. “Mr. Treadwell, this is my son. He had a fever this morning, so I brought him to the hospital for an IV.” Alan’s brows furrowed, an incredulous expression on his face. “You’re married?” I awkwardly nodded. I was about to ask him why he was at the hospital when a little girl came up behind him. “I told you to slow down!” The girl, held by a woman who seemed to be her nanny, curiously looked at Finn and me. Alan knelt, scooping up the little girl. “Not everyone has short legs like you, you know.” The girl pouted, sticking her tongue out at him. Alan chuckled, dotingly smoothing her hair. He then introduced her to me. “This is my little niece. I brought her for a follow-up.” The girl smiled at me, revealing two adorable dimples. “Hello, sir.” Alan and I didn’t chat for long before parting ways. Remembering the gentle, doting expression on his face when he spoke to the little girl, I realized it was the first time I’d ever seen that side of him. He’d probably be even softer with his own child someday. I pushed away the strange feeling stirring inside me and led Finn to the parking lot. Finn, in the back seat, craned his neck to ask, “Daddy, was that man your friend? I’ve never seen him before.” “He was my old boss.” Finn nodded. “Oh. He’s really handsome.” I laughed. “Well, who’s more handsome, Daddy or him?” Without a moment’s hesitation, he declared loudly, “Daddy! Daddy’s the most handsome in the whole world!” I couldn’t stop smiling. My chance encounter with Alan at the hospital didn’t give me any sense of alarm. After all, four years had passed. Alan surely wasn’t pursuing the matter anymore. A man couldn’t get pregnant, so he’d never suspect Finn was his. 6 I took two days off to care for Finn. When I returned to the office, a colleague sidled up to me, whispering that things had changed. The company had been acquired. A new CEO from headquarters would be coming in to temporarily manage the company. I didn’t feel much about it; there had been rumors of this for a while. As long as my salary didn’t decrease, I was fine. Then, I saw Alan Treadwell walk into the conference room, impeccably dressed in a suit. Damn it! Now I felt something. What kind of bizarre cosmic connection was this? Alan’s meeting was as concise and efficient as ever. But when his gaze swept over me, a clear flash of surprise appeared in his eyes. After the meeting, his assistant, Lin – my former colleague – called me into the CEO’s office. Alan looked at me, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Morgan, what a coincidence. We’re working together again.” I replied, “Mr. Treadwell, what incredible serendipity. I can’t believe I’m still working at Treadwell Enterprises after all this time.” Alan said, “In that case, you can be my executive assistant again. You’re already familiar with the business here.” I remained silent. Alan raised an eyebrow. “Not willing?” Of course, I wasn’t. The more I interacted with him, the greater the risk of my secret being exposed. He added, “I’ll give you a raise.” “I’m in!” Alan let out an exasperated chuckle. After I left his office, Lin excitedly told me, “Oh my gosh, Morgan, I can’t believe we’re reunited!” She whispered a complaint, “Ever since you left, Mr. Treadwell has been so moody, always getting inexplicably angry. He’s called me ‘Morgan, assistant’ so many times!” “This is great! You’re his assistant again. I finally won’t have to walk on eggshells.” I forced a dry laugh. It seemed I’d been such a dedicated worker that my boss couldn’t forget me. A new CEO meant a celebratory dinner. During the meal, I stepped outside to take a video call from Finn. “Daddy, when are you coming home? I want you to tuck me in.” I promised him, “Daddy will definitely be home before you go to sleep.” Finn’s gaze suddenly shifted behind me, and he excitedly exclaimed, “Wow, it’s the handsome man from the hospital!” I turned to see Alan Treadwell standing behind me. I hadn’t noticed him approach. He offered Finn a gentle smile. “Hello, little one.” Alan’s voice was warm and deep. The words “little one” were soft and low. I saw Finn in the video blush, uncharacteristically shy, and hide behind the sofa cushion. Tsk, such a little heartthrob.

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The blizzard grounded every flight out of Zurich, leaving me stranded in a sea of frustrated travelers inside the packed terminal. My phone screen suddenly lit up with a push notification. It was a video of Declan and Nancy holding their championship trophies. The comment section was already flooded with people calling them a literal power couple and the golden duo of the interpreting world. What stung the most was the little tag at the top. The video had just been shared and recommended by Declan himself. My fingers went numb as I opened our chat. More than a dozen unread messages sat pitifully on the screen. It was just me, rambling about my day, begging for his help. I had grown so used to talking to a brick wall. I was so used to chasing a silhouette that never bothered to look back. But right then, the sheer exhaustion of it all finally broke me. I had scored half a band higher than Nancy on the advanced French fluency exam. I was the one who originally signed up for this simultaneous interpreting competition with him. Why was someone else standing next to him, soaking up the flowers and the applause? It took me until this very moment to realize the truth. The real distance between us was never about test scores. This was already the nineteenth time he had unilaterally decided we were over. 1 Hour twenty three of being trapped in the Zurich airport. I watched that short video clip until I memorized every frame. When the winner of the French interpreting championship was announced, Nancy wept tears of joy and threw herself right into Declan’s arms. They were an incredibly attractive pair, so naturally, the embrace sent the internet into a frenzy. Declan rubbed her back to comfort her. Then, with a gentle touch I rarely ever saw, he picked a stray piece of confetti out of her hair. That single, simple gesture had the gossips screaming. “This is true love! A couple with matched intellects is just superior!” The internet era was truly magical. A snippet barely lasting a few seconds already had over a million likes. The comments praised them as a romance novel brought to life. Some internet sleuths even dug up their real life details. “That’s Declan! The absolute god of Yale’s linguistics department. He speaks five languages fluently. He went viral before for his looks during a debate, but his actual skills are terrifying.” “No wonder they took the gold. Partnering up with your girlfriend means the chemistry is off the charts.” The comments kept refreshing. I read them one by one until my eyes burned. Then, the words ‘Recommended by Declan’ popped up on my screen. I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. So he was looking at his phone. He had the time to share a viral video of himself and Nancy. He just did not have the time to reply to my desperate cries for help. I was originally supposed to be his partner for this competition in Switzerland. During our layover, he abruptly informed me that Nancy would be taking my place. Yes, informed. He did not discuss it with me. He did not ask for my opinion. Winning this championship guaranteed a fully funded spot in a prestigious overseas grad program in Paris. Declan knew exactly how much this competition meant to me. I wanted to study abroad with him so badly. I practiced from dawn until midnight. I was so sleep deprived my roommates thought I was going to drop dead. My throat was so swollen from speaking drills that I completely lost my voice for a week. I simply could not accept his ridiculous decision. The fragile string holding my sanity together snapped. I broke down and demanded a reason. Declan just sounded utterly indifferent. “Serena, don’t you think you are being incredibly dramatic?” My brain stalled. I had no idea what he meant. “Excuse me?” “I mean your attitude is rarely serious. I simply do not trust you to perform well under the pressure of a live stage.” I felt completely lost. I forced a smile, still trying to negotiate with him. “How can you say that? We practiced together so many times, and you saw my progress. I just scored an 8.5 on the advanced French fluency index. Doesn’t that prove I am capable enough?” Declan cut me off with ice in his voice. “What exactly is there to be proud of with an 8.5?” “You swore up and down you would get a perfect score. And what happened? You are stuck in the exact same percentile every single time. Are you even trying?” “Serena, you grew up traveling the world with your parents. You enjoy a bottomless bank account and endless educational resources. How is it possible that you still can’t master a second language perfectly?” Those three rapid fire questions choked the air right out of my lungs. I knew he was obsessively disciplined. His academic standards bordered on absolute insanity. Back in the day, I studied until I made myself sick just to crack the top ten in our major. That was the only way I managed to catch the eye of the untouchable academic god. Declan had sky high ambitions. He didn’t care about romance or grand gestures. His only goal was to become the top interpreter in his field. He always said his girlfriend had to be equally exceptional. Just to stand by his side, I killed my own lazy habits. I buried myself in suffocating coursework right along with him. Just to keep up with his shadow, I gave it everything I had. I earned scholarships I never thought I could get. I collected certifications like spare change. Even the strictest professors praised my work. But from Declan, I received absolutely zero validation. I could never figure out why. I just kept comforting myself by saying he was naturally a harsh critic. Yet he handed my hard earned spot to Nancy, a girl whose grades were objectively worse than mine. A bitter seed of jealousy and resentment took root in my chest. It grew wild and out of control, wrapping tight around my heart. Even drawing breath hurt. I could not pretend to be calm anymore. “And what about her? Is her 7.0 suddenly the standard of excellence? Is that why you let her replace me?” Declan paused. When he spoke, his voice dripped with cold impatience. “Nancy is not like you. She actually works hard.” “Without your parents’ money paving the way, you wouldn’t even be in the same league as her.” I laughed out loud. It was a harsh, breathless sound. Then I hung up the phone. Works hard. Parents’ money. With just a few lightweight words, he entirely erased years of my blood, sweat, and tears. I tilted my head back, but thick tears still crashed down onto my phone screen. I lost the battle with my emotions. I opened our messages and started a massive argument with him. It ended exactly how it always did. Declan pulled his favorite trick and told me we were done. 2 If I actually sat down and counted, this was roughly the nineteenth time Declan initiated a breakup over academics. My French accent wasn’t authentic enough. I got an A instead of an A plus. I dropped one spot in the class rankings. Any of these were valid grounds for him to dump me. He measured the entire worth of our relationship against his own freezing, mechanical rubrics. He never cared when my menstrual cramps left me bedridden. He didn’t notice my new dresses. He never cared about the cute restaurants I wanted to try. Only a flawless transcript could earn me a kiss or a rare moment of affection. Half the time, I wondered if I was dating a cyborg. But the second I looked at his handsome, aloof face, my brain would turn to mush. In the end, I was always the one begging to get back together. Declan was fully aware of this dynamic. That was exactly why he threw the word ‘breakup’ around without a second thought. After all, I was the one who chased him relentlessly. The person who loves more always ends up losing their dignity. But this time, my fingers hovered over the keyboard. I stared at the screen for an eternity, completely unable to type out an apology. While I was still in a daze, I got a frantic phone call. My dad had suffered a sudden heart attack. I panicked and tried to book the first flight back to the States, only to discover every single route was canceled. That was when I finally looked out the massive glass windows. A heavy, blinding snowstorm had swallowed the city. The entire airport infrastructure was paralyzed. I felt like someone had ripped my spine out. I stumbled around the terminal, frantically trying to find someone who could help. I didn’t speak German. My French vocabulary completely scrambled in my panic. Halfway through trying to explain my situation to a staff member in English, my throat closed up, choked by violent sobs. Strangers shot me looks of deep pity, but they could only shake their heads. The more anxious I got, the worse my hands shook. I wiped the tears off my screen. The only person I could think of was Declan. He knew people in Zurich. He definitely had the connections to get me on an emergency flight home. I sent him over a dozen messages. I got absolute silence in return. I was trapped in that terminal all night. I cried until my eyes were completely dry. It wasn’t until dawn that I got the text saying my dad was out of surgery and stabilizing. Not long after that, the algorithm pushed that viral video onto my feed. A little green dot glowed next to Declan’s profile picture. He was online. I opened our chat and scrolled up. My heart plummeted straight into the abyss. The entire right side of the screen was just blocks of green text. It was my own pathetic monologue. He always claimed he was too busy studying to text back. I respected his focus. I accommodated his habits. I literally forced myself to stop being talkative just to please him. But today, the illusion shattered. He wasn’t too busy for his phone. He didn’t hate social media. He just didn’t give a damn about me. I wasn’t asking him to move mountains. A single text asking if I was okay would have been enough. He gave me nothing. While I was having a mental breakdown begging for his help, was he just rewatching his own victory speech? Or was he busy reading all the comments saying he and Nancy were soulmates? At this point, the answer didn’t even matter. Loving someone this much was utterly exhausting. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life chasing a ghost. It was better to just end it here and cut my losses. I didn’t try to contact him again. The moment I finally landed in the States, I went straight to the hospital to see my dad. The freezing night in the airport caught up to me. I developed a low grade fever and slept in a haze until the next morning. A phone call woke me up. It was one of the guys from my cohort. “Serena, are you not coming to Declan’s welcome back dinner? He’s drinking pretty heavy, and we are not babysitting him!” I opened my mouth to decline, but the guy quickly added more pressure. “Professor Bennett is here too. Are you absolutely sure you want to skip?” Professor Bennett had mentored me through the early stages of the competition. He had always looked out for me. Out of sheer respect for him, I couldn’t just brush it off. But when I pushed the private dining room door open, the room was entirely filled with students. There wasn’t a professor in sight. Nancy was pressed right up against Declan’s side. She looked at me and giggled. “Sorry, Serena. We were just playing Truth or Dare.” “Declan’s dare was to trick you into coming here. We really didn’t think you would actually show up!” 3 The fever made my whole body feel heavy and sluggish. My brain was a step behind. It was a long rectangular table. Everyone else was scattered on the sides, leaving Declan and Nancy sitting dead center like royalty. They looked like the real couple. I was just the intruder crashing their party. Right. I almost forgot. Declan and I were officially broken up. I had absolutely no right to be angry or jealous. When I just stood there without reacting, Nancy’s smile froze. She suddenly jumped up, looking incredibly flustered. “I am so sorry. This was the only empty seat earlier. I will go sit somewhere else right now.” But Declan reached out and pulled her right back down. His voice was laced with alcohol. “Don’t be ridiculous.” “Serena, leave Nancy alone.” He had that same, infuriatingly calm expression. I literally hadn’t said a single word. How was I the one being unreasonable? The irony made me sick. I dug my nails hard into my palms, trying to steady my trembling legs. I turned around, fully intending to walk right back out. One of Declan’s roommates rushed over and grabbed my arm. He pulled a chair up on Declan’s other side. “Come on, Serena, don’t be mad. We were just messing around. It’s a huge night, none of us want Declan’s girl missing out. You look super pale. Have you even eaten? Just sit down and get some food in you.” Standing was somewhat manageable. Sitting down and smelling the heavy grease of the restaurant food made my stomach violently churn. I gripped my chopsticks tight, swallowing down the nausea. “Declan and I broke up. Did he forget to mention that?” The chaotic noise in the private room vanished instantly. You could hear a pin drop. Clatter. Nancy’s chopsticks hit the floor. She muttered a quiet apology. When she bent down to pick them up, a tiny smirk flashed across her lips before vanishing entirely. Declan’s perfect composure finally cracked. He furrowed his brows and glared at me. “Serena, do you have to ruin the mood for everyone?” I stood up briskly and let out a dry laugh. “Then I will just leave.” “I am clearly irrelevant here. I won’t ruin your celebration any longer.” Without another word, I walked out of the restaurant. My fast walk quickly turned into a run. The freezing night wind sliced against my face like actual blades. But this masochistic, physical pain somehow made the suffocating ache in my chest feel a little better. I thought I had run far enough. I finally collapsed by a streetlamp, dry heaving from exhaustion. Then I heard Declan’s voice right behind me. He wasn’t just exceptionally smart. He was athletic, with long, terrifyingly fast strides. He had chased me down while dragging his rolling suitcase, not looking out of breath in the slightest. “Explain yourself. You want to throw us away just because Nancy took your spot?” He reached out to pull me up, but his tone was full of that typical, condescending interrogation. I slapped his hand away and turned my face. “Do you even need to ask? You were the one who dumped me.” Being sick made me disgustingly fragile. The tears just kept coming, no matter how hard I scrubbed my eyes. I rubbed my cheeks until they burned, silently cursing myself for being so pathetic. Suddenly, a warm weight settled against my back. The familiar scent of his clean soap, mixed heavily with expensive liquor, wrapped around me. He pulled me into his chest with one arm, using his free hand to pinch my cheek and shake it lightly. His voice dropped low, his hot breath brushing against my ear. “I’m sorry. You know I only said that because I was angry.” “It was wrong of me to let Nancy replace you. But her family is drowning in debt. She needed this opportunity way more than you did.” “You are completely different. You have endless options. You can just pay out of pocket to study abroad with me, and we can still be partners in the program.” He then pressed a small, red velvet jewelry box into my palm. “An apology gift. Stop being mad at me, okay?” My entire body went rigid. My brain short circuited. A drunk Declan was terrifyingly affectionate. It was overwhelming. He was notoriously rigid. On a normal day, he wouldn’t even hold my hand unless we were hidden on a quiet campus trail. Apologizing while pulling me into a hug? That was unheard of. I stared blankly at the velvet box in my hand. I opened it. When I saw what was resting on the cushion, the tiny bit of hope that had just resurrected plummeted straight down and shattered. 4 The earrings inside were promotional freebies from a niche boutique brand. On my cab ride back this morning, I had scrolled past a massive photo dump on Nancy’s Instagram. In the center photo, she was wearing a thick scarf from this exact same brand, flashing a peace sign at the camera. It was a live photo. The background audio was piercingly clear. “Thank you for the gift, Declan! I promise I’ll keep working hard!” Followed immediately by Declan’s low, soft chuckle. The tiny box in my hand suddenly felt like burning lead. It ground whatever miserable scraps of self esteem I had left into fine dust. I thought about it with deep, pathetic irony. Why did I have to click on her post? If I hadn’t seen that picture, I never would have known the gift he was using to pacify me was literally a piece of trash another girl didn’t want. Wouldn’t it be so nice to just be an ignorant idiot, happily accepting my little prize? This was just sad. I felt like an absolute joke. The corner of my mouth twitched. “Never again,” I whispered. “I’m never doing this again.” I would never shamelessly throw myself at him again. And I sure as hell wasn’t following him across the world. “Hmm?” Declan didn’t catch my whisper. He narrowed his eyes and leaned in closer. A bright, sweet voice shattered the moment. “Um… am I interrupting something?” Nancy was standing there, wrapped up warm in that exact scarf, looking at me with wide, timid eyes. “Declan, I think I left a few things in your suitcase.” Declan nodded casually and unzipped his luggage. She reached right into the inner mesh pocket and pulled out a makeup bag and a box of tampons. I felt like I was nailed to the concrete. I just watched how incredibly natural their routine was. The howling wind sounded like it was laughing at me. It was mocking my entire existence. “Oh, um… Serena, please don’t get the wrong idea. My period started right before the finals, so I had to beg Declan to run to the pharmacy for me. Plus, my suitcase was completely over the weight limit…” Nancy nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, making sure she sounded suitably pitiful. I stared right into her bright, defiant eyes. It was crazy how much things changed. Who would have thought the painfully shy, sunburnt scholarship kid from freshman year would blossom into this confident, manipulative girl? Back then, I genuinely considered Nancy a friend. I was terrified she felt left out, so I constantly dragged her to meals and study sessions. I gave her my clothes, my expensive skincare, everything. I never imagined she would set her sights on Declan, or that she would completely backstab me to steal my competition slot. It felt like I swallowed a handful of crushed glass. I couldn’t cough it up, and I couldn’t force it down. I heard my own voice echoing, hoarse and mocking. “Did the hotel you stayed at not have a front desk? Were there absolutely zero other women in the entire competition circuit?” “You just had to force a guy with a girlfriend to go buy your feminine products? Wow, you and your precious Declan must have a really special bond.” “Serena!” Declan practically roared. “Since when did you become so classless? I just did a favor for a classmate in need. Do you really have to twist it into something so filthy?” “Apologize to Nancy right now!” Nancy’s eyes were already swimming in dramatic tears. “Serena, I know you are still furious that I took your spot.” “But you literally have everything. You don’t need one little competition. Please, can you just forgive me?” Declan gripped her trembling shoulders, his voice instantly softening. “It is not your fault.” Then, he turned his glare back to me, his tone hardening. “Serena. Apologize.” “Why the hell should I?” I raised my voice, my vision blurring with hot, angry tears. Declan didn’t even bother looking at me anymore. He gently guided Nancy to the curb and hailed a cab for her. I didn’t blink. I just watched him display a level of patience he had never, ever shown me. He leaned into the window, softly comforting the sobbing girl. The amber glow of the streetlights caught a warm, genuine smile on his face. I inhaled a lungful of freezing air. The cold sank straight into my bones. It reminded me of the time I had to get emergency appendicitis surgery. My dad was tied up overseas on business and couldn’t make it back in time. I was lying in the hospital, so incredibly lonely. I just wanted to see Declan for five minutes. If he had just held my hand and said a few nice words, the pain wouldn’t have been so bad. But as my boyfriend, his only response was a freezing text. ‘I am busy with finals.’ He couldn’t even be bothered to fake a shred of concern. Seeing him tonight made everything crystal clear. Declan was not a heartless studying machine. He was perfectly capable of loving someone. Being loved gives a person life. But so does the act of loving someone else. The problem was simply that the person bringing Declan to life was not me. It was never me.

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The next morning, I stared blankly at the divorce papers sitting on the nightstand. Right next to them, my wife’s best friend slid a check for one million dollars toward me, plunging my brain into absolute chaos. This entire nightmare started because I came home early from a business trip, hoping to give my wife a romantic surprise. Who could have guessed that my little surprise would turn into a horrifying trauma for everyone involved? Faced with this sudden, massive windfall, was I actually supposed to take the money? 1 After being away on a business trip for nearly a month, I was desperate to get home. I finished the project ahead of schedule and decided not to tell my wife, Sophie. I wanted to give her a proper surprise. At midnight, I dragged my suitcase through the hallway and sneaked up to my front door. I pressed my thumb to the smart lock, and the door clicked open. Perfect. She had not changed the locks. I was still welcome in my own house. The apartment was pitch black and completely silent. Sophie was clearly already asleep. I quietly took off my shoes, left my suitcase in the foyer, and headed straight for the bathroom. The hot shower washed away weeks of travel exhaustion. After nearly a month of forced celibacy, I felt like a caged tiger finally seeing the open door. I wrapped a towel around my waist and crept into the master bedroom on my tiptoes. The moonlight filtered through the sheer curtains, illuminating a curvy silhouette buried under the duvet, sleeping soundly. My blood ran hot. I lifted the edge of the blanket and slipped inside without making a sound. A heavy scent of alcohol hit my nose immediately. Wow. She really let loose while I was gone. Whatever. A little liquid courage meant she might be a little wilder tonight. I wrapped my arms around her from behind. The warmth of her skin pressed against me, and every cell in my body woke up. She mumbled something in her sleep and rolled over to face me. In the pitch black room, I could not make out her features, but the familiar scent of her expensive shampoo destroyed my remaining self control. I lowered my head and kissed her. Things escalated quickly. Looking back, there were definitely a few warning signs. For instance, “Sophie” was unusually enthusiastic tonight. And her curves felt just a tiny bit different than I remembered. But in the heat of the moment, with my blood rushing south, I did not overthink it. I figured the long distance just made the heart grow fonder. The next morning, I was violently jolted awake by two pairs of eyes glaring daggers at my face. I blinked my sleep heavy eyes, my brain still buffering. Then, I witnessed the most terrifying scene of my entire life. On my left lay a woman with messy hair and a flushed face, staring at me like I was a sleep paralysis demon. On my right, sitting in an armchair by the bed, was another woman. She wore her silk pajamas, arms crossed, face pale with a cold fury that could freeze the Sahara. The woman on the left was Emma, my wife’s best friend. The woman on the right was Sophie, my wife. I could not speak. My brain went through the entire process of booting up, crashing, and forcing a hard restart. My logic centers were completely fried. Who was I? Where was I? What exactly did I do last night? The woman from last night was not Sophie? It was Emma?! A phantom thunderbolt struck the top of my skull. My entire body went numb, from my scalp down to my toenails. “Connor.” Sophie’s voice was calm. Too calm. Like the dead silence before a hurricane. “Are you awake?” I nodded mechanically. My throat felt like it had been scrubbed with sandpaper. I could not force a single word out. “How was it?” she continued, a freezing smile curling the corners of her lips. “Was my best friend to your liking?” “No… honey, you have to listen to me!” I finally found my voice. I scrambled to get out of bed, but my leg tangled in the sheets, and I crashed face first onto the hardwood floor. Thud. I felt my dignity shatter right alongside my jaw. “Listen to you?” Sophie scoffed. “Sure. Go ahead. Emma and I have been sitting here for an hour waiting for you to wake up, just so we could hear your brilliant explanation.” Emma, who was still frozen in the bed, finally snapped out of her shock. She yanked the duvet up to her chin, wrapping herself tightly. Her beautiful face was bright red, and tears welled up in her eyes from a mix of humiliation and absolute rage. “Connor! You bastard! What did you do to me!” I stayed on the floor, raising one trembling hand. “Hold on, I should be asking you that! Why were you sleeping in my bed?!” “This is my bed!” Sophie’s voice spiked an octave. “Emma got wasted last night. I let her sleep in the master, and I took the guest room! How was I supposed to know you would sneak back in the middle of the night like a creep!” I understood. I understood everything. The chain of logic instantly clicked into place in my head. I, Connor, an innocent and devoted husband, came home early to surprise my wife. But because my kindhearted wife took in her drunk best friend, I got into the wrong bed and hooked up with the wrong woman. What kind of absolute nightmare was this! This was more ridiculous than a cheap soap opera! I kneeled on the floor, burying my face in my hands. My life was officially over. “Sophie, I swear to God, I really thought it was you!” I pleaded, my voice cracking. “The room was completely dark, and it smelled like tequila! How was I supposed to know the difference!” Emma was shaking with anger on the mattress. “Difference? Are you blind! Do Sophie and I look alike? Do we even have the same body type?!” I instinctively opened my mouth to compare the two, but my survival instincts kicked in and I swallowed the words. Telling the truth right now would be like pouring gasoline on a forest fire. “I… I wasn’t thinking straight. I lost my mind…” Smack. A decorative pillow hit me squarely in the face. Sophie threw it. “Connor!” She gritted her teeth, enunciating every syllable. “Are you telling me that as long as it is a woman, and she is drunk in your bed, you will just lose your mind? You are unbelievable!” It was over. The more I tried to explain, the worse it sounded. I could jump into a river of bleach and still not wash this sin clean. Everything I said was wrong. Everything I did was a crime. The next hour was the darkest moment of my entire existence. It was a full blown interrogation. Sophie and Emma played good cop, bad cop. Actually, they both played bad cop. One led the questioning, and the other filled in the gaps. They grilled me on every single detail, from the exact minute I walked through the door, to how long I showered, to every single move I made in that bed. I kneeled by the nightstand like a convict on trial, confessing everything without holding a single detail back. I desperately hoped that full transparency might buy me a sliver of mercy. “So, from start to finish, you never noticed anything was wrong?” Sophie narrowed her eyes, looking at me like a cat analyzing a mouse. I pulled a miserable face. “I noticed, but things were already moving too fast. I thought you were just trying out a new routine… I thought you were giving me a surprise…” “A surprise?!” Emma’s voice wavered from under the duvet, thick with tears. “More like a horror movie! You took advantage of me!” I wanted to cry. Look, it was my first time cheating too! I had never been with another woman since I got married! “Shut up!” Sophie barked, making me flinch. She stood up and paced the room. The sharp clicks of her slippers against the floorboards felt like she was stomping directly on my heart. Finally, she stopped. She pulled a pen and a stack of paper from the nightstand drawer. She scribbled furiously for a few seconds, then slapped the paper onto the floor right in front of me. “Connor. Sign it.” I looked down. At the top, in bold letters, it read: Divorce Agreement. Below that, she had written: The husband, Connor, commits adultery and gross misconduct. He voluntarily agrees to leave the marriage with nothing. All assets go to the wife, Sophie. My blood ran completely cold. “Sophie, is this really necessary? It was a genuine mistake! I swear on my life, you are the only woman in my heart!” “A mistake?” Sophie sneered. “You call this a mistake? Then please, enlighten me. What exactly qualifies as intentional? Do I need to catch you starring in an adult film for it to count?” “I mean… we technically were starring in one last night,” I muttered under my breath. “Excuse me?!” Sophie grabbed a glass of water from the table, fully prepared to launch it at my head. Emma quickly reached out and grabbed her wrist. “Sophie, don’t. He isn’t worth it.” Emma turned her head to look at me. Her expression was incredibly complicated. There was shame, humiliation, and something else I could not quite read. She reached into her designer purse on the nightstand, pulled out her checkbook, and furiously wrote out a line of numbers. She ripped the check out and held it in front of my face. “Connor, I know you didn’t do it on purpose. But… it happened. Here is one million dollars. Consider it… compensation. Take the money, sign the divorce papers, and get out of our lives. We are completely even, and we will never speak again.” I stared at the divorce agreement on the floor, then looked up at the one million dollar check in her hand. On one hand, I was being kicked out with absolutely zero assets. On the other hand, a million dollars. Instant wealth. This ridiculous fortune had practically fallen out of the sky. I fell into deep thought. I was a man of strict principles. But in the face of a million dollars, my principles started to wobble just a little bit. I swallowed hard and looked up at them. Sophie’s eyes were full of absolute resolve. Emma’s eyes were rushing me to take the deal. I took a deep breath and made the hardest decision of my life. With a trembling hand, I reached out. I did not take the check. Instead, I picked up the pen from the floor. Sophie’s expression softened just a fraction, as if thinking, ‘At least you have some spine left.’ Emma frowned, clearly thinking, ‘Is one million not enough?’ Then, under their watchful eyes, I pressed the pen to the check and quietly added another zero to the end of the number. “Um… Emma,” I looked up, flashing what I hoped was my most sincere smile. “Do you think we could make this ten million? I mean, this was my first time too. The emotional trauma is pretty severe.” The room descended into a dead, suffocating silence. Sophie’s face transitioned from shock, to disbelief, and finally to explosive wrath. Emma’s face went from confused, to blank, to purely homicidal. Three seconds later. “Connor! I am going to kill you!” “You absolute garbage! Go to hell!” Two women, two pillows, a bedside lamp, and an endless barrage of expensive cosmetics rained down on me like a meteor shower. I covered my head as they physically beat me out of the bedroom and down the hall. Slam. The heavy front door closed violently behind me. I, Connor, wearing absolutely nothing but a pair of SpongeBob boxers, still clutching that stupid pen, was officially kicked out of my own home. The cold morning draft blew through the apartment hallway. I shivered and looked down at the pen in my hand. Great. Forget ten million dollars. I did not even have ten cents. I was a project manager at a publicly traded company. Usually, I wore tailored suits and looked like a respectable human being. Right now, I was squatting outside my own apartment in cartoon underwear, deeply reconsidering all of my life choices. My phone, my wallet, my keys. Everything was locked inside. I was broke and practically naked. To make matters worse, my nosy neighbor, Mrs. Higgins, opened her door to take out the trash. She froze and stared at me for three agonizing seconds. “Connor… is this some sort of performance art?” I gave her an incredibly awkward smile and strategically covered my crotch. “Good morning, Mrs. Higgins. I was just… playing a game with my wife. Roleplay.” Mrs. Higgins gave me a knowing look, shook her head, and carried her trash bags away. I heard her muttering, “Kids these days are out of their minds.” I mentally logged another devastating entry into my social suicide diary. I could not stay out here. My only hope was my best friend, Tyler. He lived in the apartment complex right next to mine. I took a deep breath, gathered my courage, and sprinted down the stairs as fast as humanly possible. Along the way, I received highly confused stares from elderly people doing their morning jogs. Some looked at me with pity. Some with disgust. A few pulled out their phones. I did not even want to imagine the absolute bloodbath that would be the neighborhood group chat tomorrow. I just knew I had to reach Tyler’s place before someone called the cops and had me arrested for public indecency. Bang! Bang! Bang! I hammered on Tyler’s door like a madman. It took forever before I heard Tyler’s groggy voice from the other side. “Who the hell is it? Did somebody die?” The door swung open. Tyler was yawning and rubbing his eyes. When his vision focused on me, he instantly woke up. His eyes bugged out, and his jaw dropped low enough to catch a baseball. “Holy shit! Connor? Did you get abducted by aliens and just escape?” I ignored his jokes, squeezed past him into the apartment, and slammed the door shut. I leaned against the wood, panting heavily, feeling like I had just survived a war zone. Tyler looked me up and down, clicking his tongue in amazement. “Not bad, bro. The abs paired with the SpongeBob give off a very innocent yet feral vibe.” “Shut up!” I snapped. “Find me some clothes. And get me a glass of water, I am dying.” Wearing Tyler’s oversized t-shirt and baggy shorts made me look like I was wearing a potato sack. I chugged three glasses of water before I finally explained the entire disaster to him, leaving nothing out. Tyler listened, falling into a long, profound silence. He frowned. He nodded. He occasionally looked at me with deep pity. I stared at him, my nerves completely fried. “Tyler, say something! What the hell do I do now?” Tyler finally opened his mouth. He patted my shoulder with solemn gravity. “Connor. Look on the bright side.” “What bright side?” “I mean,” Tyler said, looking deeply serious, “Your wife, Sophie, is gorgeous. Tall, beautiful, elegant. Her best friend, Emma, is petite, cute, and has a crazy figure. In one night, you got to experience both top tier aesthetics. Sure, the process was a little messy, but the result is a win. From a purely biological standpoint… you scored.” I stared at him. I genuinely wanted to punch his head clean off his shoulders. “Be serious!” I yelled. “Okay, okay, I’m serious.” Tyler dropped the smirk and rubbed his chin, suddenly playing the role of a master strategist. “First, let us analyze the core of the problem.” “The core is that I slept in the wrong bed.” “No,” Tyler wagged his finger. “The core is that you not only got into the wrong bed, but you fumbled the aftermath. It could have been a beautiful accident, but you literally turned it into financial extortion.” I remembered my bold attempt to add a zero to the check, and my face burned. “I had a temporary lapse in judgment!” “You had a poverty possessed brain,” Tyler corrected bluntly. “Right now, Sophie wants a divorce, and Emma wants you dead. You are the villain in both of their stories.” “So what do I do? Beg on my knees? Write an apology in blood?” “Useless.” Tyler shook his head. “When women are that angry, breathing is a crime. The more you beg, the more pathetic you look. In my professional opinion, you need a drastic move.” “What drastic move?” My eyes lit up. I was desperate for anything. Tyler lowered his voice, looking incredibly secretive. “We need to flip the script. Turn your defensive position into an offensive strike.” “How?” “Think about it. Whose fault is this really?” “Mine.” “No. On the surface, it looks like your fault. But what is the root cause? Emma got drunk and slept in your bed! Sophie invited a guest into the master bedroom and did not warn you! You are the real victim here!” I listened, completely stunned. That actually… made a twisted kind of sense? “And?” “And so, you cannot apologize!” Tyler slapped his thigh. “You need to act more wronged, more furious, and more heartbroken than they are!” “What?” “You call Sophie and tell her you never expected her to be so evil. Accuse her of teaming up with Emma to set you up in a honey trap! Tell her your true love was completely wasted on her!” My jaw dropped. “Are you insane? She will skin me alive!” “You know nothing about psychology. This is a survival tactic!” Tyler spat passionately. “Women have soft hearts. If you act convincing enough, if you make her think you are actually the victim, she will start doubting herself. She will wonder if she really misunderstood you.” “What about Emma?” “Emma is even easier.” Tyler grinned wickedly. “You tell her that you are going to take full responsibility for her! From today on, she is your woman! Tell her you are going to marry her!” Pfft. I choked on my water and sprayed it across the room. “Are you out of your mind?! Marry her? What about Sophie?!” “That is exactly the point! You make Sophie realize you are not joking! You trigger her panic! You make her realize that if she doesn’t forgive you right now, you are actually going to become her best friend’s husband!” I looked at Tyler. He wasn’t giving me advice; he was handing me a shovel to dig my own grave. This plan sounded incredibly suicidal. But looking at my current situation, I had absolutely zero alternatives. I had to bet it all. I gritted my teeth. “Fine! We do it your way!”

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When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day that changed my life. Sebastian was holding me tight, his body a shield, his clothes soaked in blood. His voice, rough and strained, whispered words of terror and relief, as if we had just cheated death itself. The kidnapping, when I was twenty. I was so overwhelmed with gratitude that I ignored my family’s desperate pleas and married him. But the life that followed was no fairytale. He systematically hollowed out my family’s company, the stress sending both my parents to the hospital. When I finally swallowed my pride and knelt before him, begging for mercy, he casually dropped a truth that shattered my world. The kidnapping was his masterpiece, a meticulously staged play of heroics. The wound that nearly killed him? Self-inflicted. All of it was a grand performance to win my heart and, with it, my fortune. After that confession, he had me committed to a mental institution. My life ended there, strapped to a bed I could never leave. Now, pressed against his chest once more, my heart was a block of ice. But my fingers, they were steady as I dialed 911. When the operator answered, I spoke with chilling clarity. “Hello, I need to report a crime. Someone staged a kidnapping.” 1 The moment the call connected, the hand Sebastian had cradling the back of my head went rigid. It was only for a fraction of a second, but I felt it. “Alice?” He looked down at me, his handsome face paper-white from blood loss, his eyes filled with a mixture of confusion and concern. “Who are you calling?” I didn’t look at him. I switched the phone to my other hand, holding it away from him, and calmly gave the operator our address. “Alice.” Sebastian’s hand slid from my head to my shoulder. His grip was weak, trembling slightly. “It’s okay, the kidnappers are gone. I’m here.” He paused, his voice growing raspier. “You don’t have to call the police. I’m sure someone already did.” Such a flawless performance. Gravely injured, yet his first instinct was to comfort me, his tone a perfect blend of gentleness and restraint. He wasn’t even trying to stop me directly. I met his gaze for a long moment. “I’m still reporting it,” I said. “I want to tell them myself. Someone tried to kill me.” Sebastian’s pupils contracted. “Alice…” He opened his mouth, but his lips were pale and bloodless. He swayed, on the verge of collapsing. The ambulance and the police cruisers arrived almost at the same time. After a few brief questions from the officers, Sebastian was loaded onto a stretcher. He’d lost consciousness, the wound in his back still seeping blood, staining the better part of his white shirt a sickening crimson. The paramedics said he’d lost a dangerous amount of blood and needed to get to the hospital immediately. A young female officer escorted me to the station to give my statement. On the way, she asked if I was scared. I told her I was fine. At the station, I recounted the entire event. The officer taking my statement was diligent, asking for detailed descriptions of the attackers, filling two whole pages with notes. Finally, he closed his notebook. “Miss, we’ll open a formal investigation into this. For now, you should go home and rest. We’ll contact you if anything develops.” I asked him a final question. “If it turns out someone staged the whole thing, would that be a crime?” The officer paused, studying me for a moment. “If it was just a setup with no real harm intended… he’d likely just get a stern warning. It depends on the specifics, of course.” A stern warning. I savored the words, a bitter laugh catching in my throat. It was nearly dawn when I finally left the precinct. My parents, having gotten the news, were already waiting for me outside. My mother threw her arms around me, sobbing, while my father stood beside her, his eyes red-rimmed as he cursed the bastards who had done this. I looked at them, the memory of how Sebastian had destroyed their health in my past life flashing before my eyes. My mother’s stroke, my father’s heart attack—they had fallen one after the other. I wrapped my arms around my mother’s waist, burying my face in her shoulder. “I’m okay, Mom,” I mumbled. This time, I would be. Back home, I lay in bed, my mind a storm of memories from my previous life. Back then, at this exact moment, I was at the hospital, doting on Sebastian. I brought him food and water, staying by his side day and night. My mother had come to visit, her heart breaking for me. “Why are you so devoted to a stranger?” she’d cried. “He’s not a stranger,” I’d told her. “He’s the man I’m going to marry.” And I did. At the wedding, my father placed my hand in Sebastian’s. “This is my only daughter, Lockwood,” he’d said, his voice thick with emotion. “You take good care of her.” Sebastian, ever the gentleman, smiled warmly. “You have my word, sir. I will.” Three months into our marriage, he had me sign over all my shares in the family company. “You’re not well, darling,” he’d cooed. “Don’t you worry about these things. Let me handle it.” I believed him. I signed away every last share my parents had given me, barely glancing at the transfer agreements. Whatever he put in front of me, I signed. By the time I realized those shares were gone for good, my father had already been hospitalized from the shock and betrayal. Sebastian had conspired with other board members, slowly eating away at my father’s control until the company was his. 2 “Where are your shares?” my father had asked me from his hospital bed. “I gave them to Sebastian,” I’d whispered. My father closed his eyes, silent for a long, heavy moment. Soon after, my mother collapsed, too. I went to Sebastian then, fell to my knees, and clutched at his trousers, sobbing. “Please, give the company back to my dad. I’m begging you.” He sat on the sofa, smoking a cigarette, watching me through the haze. The look on his face—cold, distant, triumphant—is seared into my memory. I try not to think about what came next. He had me committed, telling everyone I’d lost my mind, that I was suffering from severe persecutory delusions. He cut me off from my family, isolated me from my friends. The man I called my husband visited once a month, staring at me through a pane of reinforced glass, his face a blank mask. A year of tranquilizers. My body wasted away, my arms a roadmap of needle marks. My muscles atrophied until I couldn’t even turn over in bed. I died on that bed, the one with the permanent restraints. No one knew. No one came. But now, here I was, sitting by that same window in my childhood room. Twenty years old. Alive, healthy, and terrifyingly lucid. My phone buzzed. A text from Sebastian. He was awake, asking if I was okay, if I was scared. He said he’d come see me as soon as he was better. In my last life, he destroyed my family for his own gain. Reporting him to the police was a dead end; there was no concrete proof. Even if they found the two hired thugs, they would never betray Sebastian, and even if they did, he would deny everything. He’d even boasted to me once that he’d “taken care of them” afterward. No witnesses. If the law couldn’t touch him, I would. I wouldn’t let him drain my family dry. I wouldn’t give him a single chance to lock me away. I would make him taste the cold, bitter dregs of having nothing. What he did to me, I would return to him, piece by painful piece. I stared at his text for a few seconds, then slowly typed out a reply. “You just focus on getting better, Sebastian. I’ll make some soup and bring it to you this afternoon.” I hit send. That afternoon, I prepared a hearty beef stew, poured it into a thermos, and took a cab to the hospital. When I pushed open the door to his room, Sebastian was propped up against the pillows, his face turned toward the window. The sunlight caught the line of his jaw, his long lashes casting soft shadows on his cheek. He was in a hospital gown, a bandage wrapped around his neck. He was still pale, but he looked much better than he had yesterday. When he saw me, the corners of his eyes crinkled, a slow smile spreading across his face. “What are you doing here?” His voice was still a little hoarse, but it was laced with pleased surprise and a hint of concern. “You went through such an ordeal. You should be at home resting.” I walked over, setting the thermos on the nightstand. As I opened it, the rich aroma of the stew filled the room. I ladled a bowlful, offering it to him. I kept my eyes downcast, my voice deliberately soft. “I was worried about you. You lost so much blood… all for me.” As he took the bowl, his fingertips brushed against the back of my hand. He paused, then gently enclosed my hand in his. “Alice.” He looked at me, his gaze impossibly tender. “No one will ever hurt you again. I promise.” I met his eyes for a second before looking away, feigning a bashful blush. “You should eat your stew before it gets cold.” He chuckled and began to eat. I sat on the edge of his bed, watching him, just as I had during those long days in the hospital in my past life. I’d fed him spoon by spoon back then, too. Every time, he’d smile and say, “You’re so good to me, Alice. I’ll spend the rest of my life taking care of you.” The old me had melted at those words, convinced I’d found my soulmate. The new me wondered if a single true word had ever passed his lips. He finished the stew and set the bowl aside, leaning back against his pillows to watch me. “By the way,” he said, “the police questioned me yesterday. They said they’re going to keep investigating. They think if they can find those two thugs, they can get them to name whoever was behind it.” 3 I said it casually, but my eyes were fixed on his face from the corner of my vision. His hand, which had been resting on the empty bowl, froze for an instant. Then, as if nothing had happened, he placed the bowl on the nightstand and turned to me, his expression calm and composed. “That’s good. People like that need to be caught before they can hurt anyone else.” “I think so, too,” I said, smiling sweetly at him. He smiled back. I stayed at the hospital for nearly two hours. Before I left, Sebastian held my hand, his voice pleading. “Alice, can you come visit me every day? It gets so lonely in here.” “Of course,” I said. He beamed. The moment I stepped out of his room, my smile vanished. A window at the end of the hall was open, and the October wind whipped through, carrying a chill that cut to the bone. I stood there for a moment, leaning against the sill, piecing everything together in my mind. In his world, I was still the same naive Alice, utterly captivated by his heroic rescue. I was simple, easy to fool, and completely devoted to him. He would follow his script: approach me, woo me, marry me, and then take everything I had. I wouldn’t stop him from pursuing me. In fact, I would help him. Because the only way to win this game was to let him think he was in control, to let him move his pieces onto the board so I could capture them, one by one. The next day, I returned to the hospital with more homemade soup. The day after that, and the day after that. Sebastian’s color returned, his wound healed quickly, and soon he was able to walk around his room. On the fifth day, there was someone else in his room. A woman in her forties, plainly dressed, sat by his bed, holding his hand with red-rimmed eyes. When I entered, she stood and gave me a thorough once-over. “Mom, this is Alice, the girl I told you about,” Sebastian said from his bed, a proud smile on his face. “Alice, this is my mother.” I had met his mother in my past life, but much later. By then, I was already married into the Lockwood family. She was always polite but distant. I never heard her say a harsh word to my face, but I once overheard her telling Sebastian in private, “Her family has money, yes, but it’s not your money. You need to find a way to get your hands on it.” The comment had passed me by then. Now, it echoed with sinister meaning. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Lockwood,” I said, my voice sweet and respectful, placing the thermos on the table. “I didn’t know you were coming, I only brought enough for Sebastian.” His mother glanced at me. “Don’t mind me,” she said, her tone flat as she sat back down. “You two talk. I’m going to get some water.” After she left, a brief silence filled the room. Sebastian beckoned me over. I sat on the edge of the bed, and he pulled an envelope from under his pillow, handing it to me. “What’s this?” I opened it. Inside was a greeting card with a bouquet of roses on the cover. I flipped it open. A few lines were written inside in Sebastian’s elegant script. “Alice, thank you for everything these past few days. Meeting you is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. —Sebastian” It was simple, not quite a love letter, but I knew what it was. It was a lure. In my past life, he had showered me with these small, thoughtful gestures, slowly and methodically reeling me in. I looked up at him. He was watching me, a hint of nervousness in his eyes. “Sebastian,” I said, holding the card, my voice a soft, gentle whisper. “What does this mean?” He took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for a monumental decision, and took my hand in his. His palm was large, his fingers strong, his grip firm enough to hold me but not so tight as to feel forceful. “Alice,” he said, his eyes locked on mine. “I’m in love with you. I have been for a long time.” A long time. A cold laugh echoed in my mind, but on my face was a perfect picture of shocked, blushing delight. My eyes welled with tears, and I sniffled, looking up at him with a trembling voice. “Sebastian, I’m in love with you, too.” 4 He blinked, surprised, then a radiant smile broke across his face. He reached out and gently ruffled my hair. I didn’t flinch. I let him. Let him believe he had me right where he wanted me. Let him think Alice was still that same foolish girl, ready to give her life to the man who had supposedly saved it. As his fingers combed through my hair, I did a quick calculation in my head. Last time, he had gutted our family business, walking away with hundreds of millions. Twenty years of my father’s blood, sweat, and tears, all swallowed whole. My mother’s inheritance, my father’s shares, every asset to my name—wiped out. This time, I was getting it all back, with interest. For the next week, I was a fixture at the hospital. Sebastian’s recovery was swift. In less than two weeks, his stitches were out, and the doctor said he could be discharged after a few more days of observation. The night before he was set to leave, he had a nurse help him book a reservation at a restaurant. He wanted to take me out to a proper dinner, he said, to thank me for taking care of him. He chose a quiet Italian place near campus. Throughout the meal, his eyes never left me. He cut my steak, refilled my water, and asked me about all my favorite things, claiming he wanted to memorize every detail about me. “Alice,” he began, his tone serious. “There’s something I need to ask you.” “What is it?” “I want to marry you.” The words came a few days earlier than I’d expected. My fork clattered against my plate. I looked up at him, my voice a small, disbelieving whisper. “What did you say?” “I said, I want to marry you,” he repeated, his voice firmer now. He reached across the table and took my hand. “Alice, I know we’re young, but I can’t wait. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?” “I will,” I whispered, tears streaming down my face, tracing a salty path to my lips. “Oh, Sebastian, I will.” He smiled, a tender, loving smile, and reached out to wipe my tears away. His thumb was gentle as it brushed my cheek. But I wasn’t crying tears of joy. I was crying for the girl I used to be. The twenty-year-old girl who had sat at this very table, heard these very words, and cried these very tears. She had been so genuinely happy, so certain she was the luckiest woman in the world, so sure that this man would cherish her forever. She had no idea what kind of monster she was marrying. It was almost eleven when Sebastian walked me home. The streetlight at the entrance to my neighborhood cast his shadow long and dark on the pavement. He stood under the light, watching until I was safely inside, then waved. When I got in, my parents were still awake. My dad was on the sofa reading the paper, and my mom was folding laundry on the balcony. I slipped off my shoes and sat down next to my dad. After a moment’s hesitation, I spoke. “Dad, Mom… Sebastian asked me to marry him tonight.” 5 My father’s newspaper slipped from his grasp. My mother rushed in from the balcony, a half-folded shirt still in her hand, her voice an octave higher than usual. “What? He proposed? You’ve barely known him a month!” “He saved my life. If it weren’t for him, I might be dead.” These were the exact words I had used last time. Back then, my father had fallen silent, and my mother had said no more. They couldn’t argue with it. In their eyes, Sebastian was my savior. A marriage, while impulsive, wasn’t entirely incomprehensible. This time, my father fell silent again. My mother, too, held her tongue. But I knew what they were thinking. They didn’t like Sebastian. My father set his paper down, took off his glasses, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. His voice was heavy. “Do you really know him, Alice? Do you know anything about his family? Have you even considered if his feelings for you are genuine?” “I know what you’re worried about,” I said, leaning over and resting my head on my father’s shoulder. “But Dad… how can I not trust a man who was willing to die for me?” My father sighed, a deep, weary sound. Across from us, my mother’s lips parted as if to speak, but she said nothing. In my heart, I apologized to them. But this was the only way. If I didn’t marry Sebastian, he would never show his true colors. I would never have the chance to take back what was mine. Only by drawing him into the trap of marriage could I begin to repay him for everything he had done. The next morning, I called Sebastian, my voice bubbling with fake excitement, and told him my parents had more or less agreed. He was ecstatic, promising to have his parents come over immediately to formally discuss the engagement. “But, Sebastian,” I said, my tone shifting to one of hesitation. “My parents agreed, but… they have one condition.” “What is it?” His voice was still warm, but I detected a new note of caution. “The dowry. My parents said they aren’t the kind of people to sell their daughter, but tradition is tradition. They want this much.” I named a number. A very large number. Three seconds of dead silence on the other end of the line. In my last life, I hadn’t asked for a single penny. My parents had given Sebastian a generous gift and even bought him a condo in the city as a thank-you for saving me. I had thought it was only right. He’d saved my life; of course my parents should be good to him. This time, I was going to make him pay for it all. “That’s… a significant amount,” Sebastian finally said, his voice a little tight, though he struggled to maintain his gentle tone. “Alice, my business is just getting started. I can’t pull together that much cash right now.” “I know,” I replied immediately, my voice soft and tinged with hurt. “I told them that. I told them your family isn’t wealthy, that you couldn’t afford it. But my mother… she said if you can’t provide, you can’t marry me. And she said something else… something I was afraid to tell you.” “What?” “She said, ‘He may have saved her, but who’s to say that wasn’t part of some plan? I won’t let some outsider get his hands on the company your father built his entire life for.’”

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