Every six months, my mafia don husband loses his memory for fifteen days. He falls for someone else and ruins my life—only to beg for my forgiveness on his knees when it’s over. My husband is sick. Almost the entire Underworld of New York knows about it. After the men of the Lucchese family marry, they lose their memories for fifteen days every six months. And during these fifteen days, they fall madly in love with other women, turning their wives into the most pathetic laughingstocks. The first time Dominic lost his memory, he fell for a dirty journalist whore who was trying to leak my family’s secrets. For the sake of his so-called true love, he kidnapped me on the exact day of my family’s multi-million-dollar shipment, ordering his men to break both of my legs. The shipment was seized by the feds because I wasn’t there to clear it, and I was completely blacklisted from the Underworld high council. Meanwhile, that journalist whore used him to climb straight to the top, becoming one of the most powerful media rats in the city. But the moment the fifteen days were up, Dominic recovered his memories and literally wept at my feet until he fainted. Then, he ordered his executioners to chop the journalist into pieces and feed her to the dogs; to this day, her name is scratched off the earth, dead or alive. The second time he lost his memory, he fell for a low-life maid who washed our clothes. The maid threw a tantrum, demanding a ring and a divorce. When I refused to sign, Dominic dragged me out, threw me into a cartel-run brothel to be humiliated, and had his men film it to spread around the five families. On the fifteenth day, he snapped out of his fugue state right inside the underground courthouse where we were supposed to dissolve our marriage. The man fell straight to his knees on the concrete, pulling out his blade and stabbing his own thigh to beg for my mercy. As for that maid, she met the same fate as the journalist whore—sold off to a brutal Juarez cartel camp, and within three days, she was tortured into a broken, breathing corpse. The most ruthless time was when he fell for my bastard sister. To prove his loyalty to her, he personally sliced open my stomach at a back-alley underground clinic to rip out my six-month-old unborn heir, nearly leaving both me and the baby dead on the operating table. Once his mind cleared, Dominic tried to hang himself right in our mansion. It took the family doctors three days and three nights of emergency surgeries just to barely keep his pathetic ass alive. And this time, it is his twelfth memory glitch. Looking at my former best friend Sasha, who has successfully crawled into his bed, I let out a tired, heavy sigh. “Dominic, if you’re this fucking sick, why don’t you just hurry up and die? I’d rather be a rich widow and inherit the whole goddamn Lucchese Empire.”

“Elena, I know you’re hurting, but you can’t force someone to love you,” Sasha says, her voice dripping with fake pity. “Dom loves me now, and you need to accept reality instead of wishing your own husband dead.” The parasitic bitch clings like a weak vine onto the half-naked body of the man who rules the city’s streets. The silk nightgown she is wearing happens to be an old piece I was planning to throw into the mansion’s incinerator last week. I take a deep breath. My eyes, cold and entirely stripped of any remaining affection for Dominic, casually glance at the tactical calendar hanging on the wall. Today is day one of his glitch. “If you run out of condoms, there’s a fresh box in the second drawer,” I say calmly. “And if you want to breed his heir, make sure to notify me in advance; I have a lot of family business meetings lately, and I’ll need to clear my schedule to sign the divorce papers.” “Oh, and one more thing, Sasha—did you remember to buy life insurance?” I leave that last sentence hanging in the air with a dark, heavy meaning. Sasha freezes, staring at me as if I’ve lost my mind, her lips curling into a mocking sneer. “Elena, have you gone completely insane from heartbreak? Is a man really worth losing your damn mind over?” “Being this obsessed is pathetic, sweetie.” This is the same “best friend” who used to rage and pull her gun out whenever Dominic stepped out on me in the past, swearing she would kill him for me. Now, she looks like a victorious alley cat. She arrogantly snuggles deeper into the chest of a married Don, radiating pure, disgusting pride. I shrug carelessly, not giving a single shit, and tilt my head. “It’s nothing, just a friendly warning—good luck surviving fifteen days from now.” The moment I turn my back to leave, the master bedroom that once belonged to me and Dominic instantly fills with the loud, breathless sounds of their disgusting lust. The man groans heavily, his deep voice laughing, “Elena is nothing but a political pawn from an arranged marriage, why do you care about her? My heart belongs entirely to you.” Heh, this hereditary mental disease of the Lucchese family is truly fascinating. The second he loses his memory, his brain automatically rationalizes me as nothing but a soulless business transaction. Walking out of the heavily guarded villa, I pull out my encrypted phone and dial my consigliere, giving the order in a flat tone. “I don’t care what strings you have to pull or how many millions you have to burn—within fifteen days, I want our official divorce decree finalized.” And since he is the one breaking the sacred mafia vow, he will be stripped of everything and kicked out of my family’s territories with absolutely nothing. Of course, there is an even bigger surprise waiting for Dominic to personally enjoy once he wakes up from his little trance. I pick one of the hundred safehouses registered under my secret aliases and drive over. I crawl into bed and sleep peacefully until I naturally wake up the next morning. But the moment I open my eyes, my muted phone is practically exploding with missed calls from his private line. “Elena, where the fuck did you hide Sasha?!” Dominic roars the second I hit answer. “Just because I don’t love your pathetic ass anymore, you’re cruel enough to hurt my fucking angel?!” “You can’t force love, Elena, and if anything happens to even a single hair on Sasha’s head, I swear to God I will make you pay for the rest of your life!” The sheer volume of his screaming makes my ears ring. I roll my eyes in pure annoyance and prepare to hang up the call. Suddenly, the reinforced steel door of my safehouse is violently breached with a loud crash. Dominic, phone still gripped in his hand, charges into the room like a rabid beast. Without a single word, he swings his arm and delivers a brutal, backhanded slap right across my face. The entire left side of my face goes completely numb, and the corner of my lip immediately splits open, dripping dark crimson blood onto the floor. “Dominic, you fucking hit me? For Sasha?!” I let my body collapse weakly onto the floorboards. Even though I can’t squeeze out a single real tear to save my life, I still force myself to look completely shattered, cradling my bleeding cheek and trembling as if my world has ended. In the dark corner of the ceiling, the tiny red light of a hidden security camera blinks steadily. Seeing me like this, the man shoves one hand into his tailored suit pocket, leaning over to look down at me like I’m a piece of garbage. He lets out a cold sneer, “Are you really that desperate for my love? Elena, you are truly pathetic!” Before the words even fully leave his mouth, he raises a hand and snaps his fingers. His massive bratva-trained bodyguards instantly step forward, pinning me roughly to the hard floor with calculated cruelty. “But kidnapping Sasha means you crossed my fucking line.” “Beat her,” Dominic orders coldly. “Teach the Don’s wife some fucking manners, and don’t stop until she tells us where Sasha is hiding.” A rain of heavy, iron-like fists begins to pelt my body mercilessly. In the midst of the pain, my mind flashes back to Dominic’s tenth memory glitch, when he almost gouged out my left eye with a broken bottle. The exact second the fifteen-day countdown ended and he saw me covered in dried blood, he turned into a literal caged animal. He locked himself in the mansion’s concrete basement and brutally tortured himself for a solid week. He broke his own arms and legs. If I hadn’t ordered the guards to stop him, he probably would have ripped his own eyes out with his bare hands just to beg for my forgiveness. As the final heavy punch hits my ribs, my throat tightens, and I cough up a mouthful of thick blood onto the floor. Suddenly, Dominic’s encrypted phone vibrates violently in his pocket. The moment his eyes hit the caller ID, his face lights up with frantic excitement, and he answers it immediately. “Sasha?! Baby, yes, I’m coming right now—don’t be scared, stop crying, it breaks my fucking heart.” The man storms out of the safehouse in a desperate rush. Inside the empty, ruined apartment, I am left battered and bleeding on the floor, but I slowly reach out to pull up my laptop. The security footage has already finished syncing to my secure cloud server in real-time. I edit the file, save it under lock and key, and type out the title. Label: [A Gift For My Ex-Husband: Part One—Sent in 15 Days!]

Sasha’s little self-kidnapping performance concludes flawlessly with her “miraculous rescue.” To punish me further for my “crimes,” Dominic completely freezes every single one of my black cards and even contacts my family’s underground network, forcing them to temporarily suspend my position as the head of our smuggling operations. My direct supervisor looks at me in the dim office, offering an awkward, sweating smile as he tries to soothe me. “Elena, look, the Don will get his mind back in fifteen days anyway; you two have survived worse storms over the years.” “He truly loves you, and everyone in the Five Families knows that.” Love? But this kind of “love” that requires me to bleed out every six months is starting to make me feel profoundly exhausted. My supervisor opens his mouth to say more. But I simply close my eyes, cutting him off with a blunt, jarring question, “Do you know exactly how Dominic’s parents died?” “What?” “During his father’s seventy-eighth glitch, the old Godfather accidentally shot and killed his own wife for the sake of a cheap stripper. Then, the moment his sanity snapped back, he took the stripper in his arms and leaped straight off the top floor of the Empire State Building, leaving nothing but a bloody smear on the pavement.” I have absolutely no intention of following the same tragic script. The office falls into a dead, suffocating silence. I take the suspension notice and walk out. The moment I step out of the syndicate’s headquarters, Sasha’s encrypted messages begin flooding my screen one after another. Dozens of high-resolution photos pop up. The absolute King of the New York Underworld, a man who makes hardened killers tremble, is currently on his hands and knees on the carpet, letting that woman ride him like a horse for her own amusement. There are photos of him washing her feet, and kissing her toes. The text messages claim that even if Sasha demanded a literal mountain of blood diamonds, he would gladly burn down half the city within an hour just to make his little queen smile. [Elena, being your friend meant I was always just a pathetic shadow used to make you look better.] [But everything is different now—the most powerful man in the city belongs to me.] [I, Sasha, will be stepping right on your neck soon, taking every bit of wealth and power that used to be yours.] [Are you jealous? Do you hate me? Too bad you can’t do shit about it! Hahaha…] Looking at those texts filled with pure, arrogant malice, I can practically feel her obnoxious gloating radiating through the glass screen. I let out a cold, disgusted snort and take a screenshot of every single message. I upload them directly to the cloud server. Label: [A Gift For My Ex-Husband: Part Two—Sent in 15 Days!] I drive back to our main villa to retrieve one specific item. Before my grandmother, the last true matriarch of our old Italian bloodline, passed away, she handed me our hand-embroidered silk Heritage Crest—the ultimate symbol of our family’s honor and vendetta history. That silk piece has survived generations of mafia wars. It is the living proof and the absolute pride of our family’s survival through blood and fire. Dominic once told me, “Angele, give me something that means the world to you so I can lock it away; only then can my soul rest, knowing you will never abandon me.” Now, I am completely drained, and I refuse to play a part in this sick game caused by his twisted genetics anymore. I am taking my grandmother’s Crest back, cutting every single tie clean! But the very second I step through the grand marble foyer, I spot Sasha holding a filthy, stray dog covered in mud and leaking urine. Her eyes are filled with tears as she reaches out toward Dominic—a man who is severely allergic to dog dander but is forcing himself to stand there and endure it just for her. “Dom, the poor puppy is so dirty, hurry up and grab that old rag on the wall so I can wipe him down.” The “old rag” Sasha is pointing her acrylic nail at happens to be my grandmother’s hand-woven Heritage Silk, beautifully framed and mounted on the center wall. My heart drops into a cold, violent abyss. Before I can even step forward to tear her apart, Dominic moves faster than a bullet. He ruthlessly smashes the glass frame with his bare fist, rips the priceless silk Crest out, and shoves it into her hands. His thin lips part, letting out a mocking scoff, “Is Elena fucking brain-dead? Framing a useless piece of rag and hanging it up here just to embarrass the Lucchese name?” Yet, when he was sane, this exact “useless rag” was the only thing that could anchor his violent soul, guarded like the most sacred treasure in his empire! “Good boy, let mommy clean you up,” Sasha coos, using the ancient silk that represents my entire lineage to wipe away the dog’s filth. My eyes turn entirely bloodshot, and a primal rage drives me to fly across the room, raising my hand to strike her down. Except. I don’t even manage to touch a single hair on Sasha’s head. Dominic grabs the back of my collar as if I am a piece of infected meat, throwing my body through the air with terrifying force. My fragile frame crashes heavily against the massive floor-to-ceiling glass window. The glass shatters into thousands of deadly shards, tearing through my clothes and slicing deep into my skin, causing thick lines of dark blood to gush out instantly. In that split second. The man who was just fiercely protecting Sasha, his face filled with rage, completely freezes as his eyes land on the bloody mess on the floor. His handsome face turns suddenly pale, as if some buried instinct in his twisted mind is trying to scream…

“Waaah… Dom, Elena is so terrifying, the poor puppy is shaking, and I’m so scared. I don’t want to stay here anymore!” Sasha’s high-pitched, fake whimpering echoes through the room. Dominic, his head shaking violently as if trying to fight off the heavy fog of fractured memories, suddenly snaps back to reality. He hardens his gaze, muttering to himself under his breath, “No way! How could I ever give a single shit about a marriage pawn like Elena? The only woman I love is Sasha! It’s Sasha!” Right before the agonizing pain completely knocks me out, I let out a dry, mocking sneer. It looks like the closer we get to the final fifteen-day deadline, the sharper his forgotten memories are trying to bite through. My body is entirely numb from the blood loss. Like a broken worm, I drag myself across the floorboards, reaching out to grab the stained, ruined Heritage Silk. Sasha, safely tucked into the man’s chest as they walk right past me, twists her lips and uses silent mouth movements to mock me: “Elena, you’re just like this trashy rag. As long as I ask for it, Dom will strip you of everything and give it to me. Hahaha…” Behind that silent, ugly laughter, Sasha intentionally lets go of the stray dog. Smelling the filth on the silk, the dog instantly goes wild, baring its disgusting teeth and biting viciously into my exposed skin. The sharp, tearing agony finally pulls me into total darkness. When my eyes finally snap open again, I am holding the filthy silk tightly in my fist, lying inside a private VIP hospital room. The private nurse changing my IV drips mutters in pure pity, “Miss Lucchese, your husband is a literal monster, a cold-blooded piece of shit!” “Last night, you were flatlining on the operating table, and the chief surgeon called your husband to come sign the emergency paperwork.” “But do you want to guess what the bastard said? He said he was too busy comforting his true love, told them he had no time, and that they should just let you rot and die!” Let me rot and die… I slowly turn my head toward the window. The morning sun streams into the room, warm and surprisingly comfortable on my skin. A secure text from my consigliere flashes on the screen. [My Lady, seven more days, and you will have the official divorce papers in your hands. You can leave this hell clean.] Seven days. I prop myself up against the pillows. My grandmother’s Crest has already been sent to a specialized cleaner to be restored. My fingers fly across the screen, saving the voice recording of the nurse directly into the cloud file. At the same time, I remotely access the main villa’s security feeds from last night and pull the footage, saving them together. Label: [A Gift For My Ex-Husband: Part Three—Sent in 15 Days!] Five days later, I officially discharge myself. Sasha, who used to be nothing but a low-tier street girl, is now riding Dominic’s massive empire resources straight to the top of the Underworld social ladder. She has secured leading roles in major media campaigns, and three top-tier syndicate directors are practically begging to produce exclusive projects tailored entirely for the Don’s new favorite girl. Long story short. As my car rolls through the city, every single massive LED billboard I pass displays the exact same face—the newly crowned “Angel of New York,” Sasha. I open my phone, checking the countdown on my calendar. Two days left, and this entire fucking circus will be over for good. Though, I have to admit, I’m slightly curious about one thing. When Dominic finally wakes up from his little trance and personally opens the massive gift bundle I left him, what kind of pathetic show will he put on? Suicide? Hanging? Self-mutilation? Heh, those are all old tricks. I am actually looking forward to whatever new, pathetic drama he comes up with this time! The car pulls up to my safehouse. Before I can even drive into the underground garage, my supervisor calls my line. His voice is trembling violently over the receiver. “E… Elena, look… the Don personally ordered it. He wants you to come back to headquarters immediately to conduct an exclusive live interview with Sasha.” Interviewing Sasha? The broadcast time is set exactly two days from now. I leave the call on speaker, my fingers lightly tapping against the calendar screen. Finally, a smooth smile crosses my face, and I reply in a deadpan voice, “Sure. Tell Dominic I’ll take the job.” A live, unedited broadcast with a thirty-million-dollar marketing push behind it. When the time comes, it won’t just be New York watching; every single faction across the country will witness exactly how insane Dominic gets when his mind snaps back! How fun.

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After four years as the pampered kept woman of Manhattan’s most untouchable billionaire heir, I got pregnant. When asked if he liked kids, he replied coldly: “No. I despise them.” Yet, he immediately turned around and flew out to bring his pregnant “one that got away” back to the States. My heart turned ice-cold. I faked my death and ran away with the baby in my belly. But raising a kid is expensive. To make a living, I became a mommy vlogger online, and accidentally showed my face. That night, my apartment building was surrounded by men in black suits. Even the doggie door in the back was sealed shut. The billionaire pinned me against the wall: “Tessa, you still dare to call yourself a widow whose husband died on the internet?” My daughter poked her little head out from behind the door: “Mister, my daddy isn’t dead. He’s just a giant, irresponsible jerk~” Me: “…” Shut up, my little menace!!! 1 I, Tessa Caldwell, was a very dedicated kept woman. Four years ago, Grayson Sinclair—the untouchable golden boy of Wall Street—rescued me on a stormy night in a rundown Midwest town. That rescue led straight to his bed. Everyone in high society said Grayson was utterly heartless, a man who never took the same woman out twice. But he kept me pampered in his Upper East Side penthouse for four years. Add up the days and nights, and we must have done it five thousand times. Thanks to this untouchable god of Wall Street, I entered high society, often shopping with Park Avenue wives and elite socialites. Right now, they were picking out clothes for themselves. And me, ever the dedicated professional, was following the billionaire’s orders, picking out the lingerie needed for tonight. I had just swiped the black card for a silk piece when a text came through: [Too cheap. Texture is bad. Swap it.] This bastard was monitoring me in real-time! Such high demands! For the sake of my sugar daddy, I endured it! Just as I angrily picked out a second piece, I caught a glimpse of a beautiful woman on a nearby billboard. Underneath it read, Spokesperson: Serena Blair. I unconsciously murmured the name, and suddenly, a mechanical voice rang out in my head. It told me I had triggered a keyword, informing me that I was the evil, villainous female side-character in a billionaire romance novel. I was so shocked I couldn’t remember the rest of the plot, except that my character actually gave birth to a daughter. Bullshit! Grayson used protection every single time we slept together. How could I possibly be pregnant? Was this some new, elaborate dark web scam? But when I finished shopping and returned to the penthouse, I saw Martha the housekeeper’s little granddaughter playing in the master bedroom with a sewing kit. In her tiny hands was a long string of condoms she had poked holes through and strung together. Clearly, the ones we used previously had suffered the exact same fate. Me: ? Am I really just a pawn in the author’s sick game? 2 I fell into deep thought. This deep thought lasted late into the night. I didn’t even notice when Grayson came back. He took a shower, and his lean, muscular body pressed against me from the other side of the massive bed. The warm steam and the gentle kisses landing on the back of my neck snapped me back to reality. “What are you thinking about?” Grayson’s voice was husky, carrying a lazy nasal tone. This was his usual little tell when he was aroused. He was used to being superior and naturally took the initiative. Every time he wanted it first, he made me beg for it. But tonight, no matter how good his massaging fingers were, my mind kept wandering. Grayson was clearly dissatisfied. His large hands gripped my waist, lifting me to lie on top of his chest. Tickled, I finally opened my teary eyes. “Mr. Sinclair…” Grayson had been frowning in displeasure, but seeing my pitiful look, he coaxed me in a low voice: “Baby, what’s wrong? Tell me if you’re unhappy, hm?” Thinking of the mechanical voice from the afternoon, I blurted out: “Nothing, just… will you ever get married?” According to the system’s plot hints, I was the evil side character obsessed with marrying the male lead, Grayson. In the early stages, while Grayson spent fortunes keeping me, he only used me to vent his physical needs. The one he truly held in his heart was the female lead fighting for a career in Hollywood, Serena Blair. Once Serena returned to New York, she would draw all his attention, and he would never look at me again. These events were foreshadowed in the book. For example, when I asked about marriage, he would coldly turn hostile. Sure enough, as soon as I asked, Grayson’s voice instantly turned freezing cold, stripped of any warmth: “Don’t talk to me about marriage.” “I never want to hear that word from you again.” Word for word, exactly what the plot hint said. It seemed my fate as the doomed side character was sealed. I immediately deflated, unsure if I was disappointed by his words or relieved I found out early. Being a side character was fine. I had been the unimportant one my whole life anyway. But being evil and a villain? No way! 3 That night, Grayson got out of bed after saying that, and didn’t sleep in the master bedroom with me. The next morning, I heard from Martha that he smoked in the study all night. After that, he didn’t come back for half a month. I had free time to scroll through social media. Figuring out where to settle down once I left Grayson. I stumbled upon Chanel’s new spring collection, and my finger hovered over the pre-order button. But then I thought about it. I was a side character destined to be ruthlessly abandoned. I needed to save the money in my account. So I angrily typed a comment: [So expensive! Can’t afford it!] An hour later, I received a wire transfer of one million dollars from Grayson. Me: ? That bastard. Disappears for half a month because of one question about marriage, and thinks throwing money at it works?! Then, transfer notifications kept popping up. One million, one million, one million… A total of 19.99 million dollars. I immediately leaped off the sofa, put on flawless makeup, and headed out. I even stopped by a deli to buy some chicken soup that looked homemade. When I reached the top floor of his company, I heard voices through the slightly ajar office door. “Serena is coming back to New York. You know, right?” “Yeah.” It was Grayson’s cold voice. “Figures. She definitely told you first. By the way, she seems to know about that little pet you’ve been keeping…” The other male voice tried to say more but was cut off by Grayson: “It doesn’t matter. I will deal with it.” My heart skipped a beat. Deal with me? 4 I wanted to keep eavesdropping but was interrupted by the secretary behind me. The office door opened, and the man who was just talking walked out. It had to be Grayson’s childhood friend from the Hamptons. I had seen him in the tabloids. But Grayson never introduced me to his friends, so I didn’t know him personally. Thinking about it now, it was probably because I was just a side character, unworthy of introductions. Driven by curiosity, I turned my head to look at the man a few more times. When I turned back, I met Grayson’s ice-cold glare. ? I thought about the massive wire transfers and remembered you don’t bite the hand that feeds you. I smiled sweetly and leaned in: “Mr. Sinclair, you’ve been so busy lately. Are you tired?” Grayson didn’t say a word. He reached back, shut the door, and locked it. He turned around, picked me up, and set me down on his massive mahogany desk. After four years of being intimately connected, Grayson knew me inside and out. “The moment you step out, you stare at other men, but you won’t even look your own man in the eye?” “While I wasn’t home, you didn’t call or text once. Seems you didn’t miss me at all?” “Tessa, you’re begging to be punished, aren’t you?” I couldn’t hear what he was saying. Fireworks seemed to explode behind my eyes. In my daze, I whimpered and cursed, “Grayson Sinclair, you huge jerk! Ughhh!” “Do your employees and fangirls know you like bunny ears in bed?!” “Your technique sucks! Are you getting old and useless?!” Saying the wrong thing leads to a miserable end. Terrified we were making too much noise and people outside would hear, I quickly swallowed my pride and begged for mercy. “Okay, okay, you’re very useful.” “Grayson, you’re not old. Daddy! You’re my daddy!” “Daddy, daddy!” As soon as the words left my mouth, the veins on Grayson’s neck bulged with excitement. He lowered his head and kissed me fiercely. ?? Wait, why did that turn him on even more? 5 The one being stimulated was soon me. I was pregnant. When I walked out of the office that day on wobbly legs, my lower abdomen felt sore and heavy. I took a test. Two pink lines. It seemed I was already pregnant. You really can’t fight the plot. The mechanical voice in my head told me that next, I would give birth to a daughter. Then, out of jealousy, I would psychotically swap my daughter with Serena’s daughter and abuse the kid. After a series of baby-swap drama, I would be exposed, and both kids would end up loving Serena. Grayson would hate me to the bone, refusing to even look at me. Finally, I’d be thrown into an underground auction ring, tortured for life, wishing for death. My face went pale. I sat down and took a long time to recover. I immediately made the decision to leave right now. The baby was mine. I didn’t want to be like my own mother, who abandoned her biological child because she hated my father. The money I had was enough to raise my child. I packed a few essentials and left the penthouse under the cover of night. Unfortunately, my first escape attempt didn’t go smoothly. I planned to land in Miami first and then catch a connecting flight. But as soon as I got off the plane, someone was waiting for me at the exit. It was Grayson’s personal assistant. “Ms. Caldwell, Mr. Sinclair said you left in a hurry and probably forgot some essentials, so he sent me to buy them for you.” He handed me a connected phone. I took it stiffly. Through the receiver, Grayson’s deep voice came: “Leaving so suddenly. Wanted to take a vacation?” “…Yeah,” I tried to sound natural. “I was bored at home, and you weren’t coming back. Where are you?” “In Europe. Handling some business.” I knew he went to bring back a pregnant Serena. Playing dumb, I asked, “What business?” “Company matters.” I fell silent for a few seconds. My lowered gaze landed on my stomach, and I suddenly spoke up. “Grayson, do you like kids?” It was quiet on Grayson’s end for a moment. Then came a few clearly displeased words: “No. I despise them.” I froze. Then I smiled in relief. “What a coincidence. Me too.”

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The year I was at my absolute brokest, I sold myself to Carter Sterling for $50,000 to act as a stand-in for “the one that got away.” His friends egged me on to drink until my stomach bled. They asked him: “Does your heart ache for her?” He lowered his eyes, his tone indifferent: “She’s just a placeholder.” Later, to save his first love, Carter watched helplessly as I plunged off a cliff into the ocean. Search and rescue teams never found my body. He suddenly went mad, searching the entire world for me. Five years later, I was invited back to the States and ran into him at an event. He stared at me intensely, his eyes red: “I knew you didn’t die. I’ve been looking everywhere for you—” I took a step back, smiling politely but distantly: “I’m sorry, who are you?” 1 In Carter Sterling’s mind, I was his girlfriend in name only. In reality, I was just a cheap replica of Serena Blair. A very low-budget one at that. She was a glamorous Hollywood actress, surrounded by adoring fans. And I was just a girl from the slums. With $50,000, Carter had bought my entire sense of self-worth. The day Serena returned to the States, her name dominated the trending topics on X. Carter went to the airport to pick her up for a welcome party. Before he left, he dropped a single sentence on me. “I’m not coming home for dinner tonight.” Yet, only an hour into my studying, he called. “There’s a vintage bottle of wine in the cellar. Find it and bring it to the restaurant.” My focus was broken. I sighed, hung up, found the bottle, and drove over. The private dining room was heavily guarded, brightly lit, and reeked of luxury. In the center of the room, like a king and queen, sat Carter and Serena. She wore a shimmering silver gown, leaning intimately against him. Everyone was cheering: “Serena is finally back! You have no idea how long Carter has waited for you.” I walked over and stopped in front of Carter. “The wine you asked for. I checked the label; it should be the right one.” The perfectly harmonious atmosphere froze for a second the moment I arrived. Setting the bottle down, I turned to leave. Serena’s light voice rang out behind me: “Stop right there.” “Come over here, open the wine, and pour it for us.” I turned back and instinctively looked at Carter. He was leaning back in his chair, his dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, looking at me with cool indifference. “Did you not understand her?” “I understood,” I lowered my eyes. “I’ll go outside and ask a waiter for a corkscrew.” The moment I stepped toward the door, Serena’s sharp question pierced my back. “This is the kind of trash you’re into now?” Carter remained silent. A friend next to him chimed in: “Don’t be mad, Serena. Carter only has you in his heart.” “Yeah, you can’t blame Carter. She’s the one who clung to him like a leech. We couldn’t chase her away.” After I poured the wine, Serena still refused to let me leave. She was venting her frustration on me, making me serve her soup and peel her shrimp. Then, with a sweet smile, she asked: “What college did you graduate from?” “MIT.” “Such a famous school, and they didn’t teach you self-respect?” Her face darkened. She suddenly raised her hand and splashed half a bowl of hot soup directly onto my chest. “Clinging to Carter like a stray dog, don’t you feel pathetic? Are you that desperate to climb the social ladder?” The liquid soaked through my shirt, leaving a burning sting on my skin. Carter gently held Serena’s hand, soothing her softly without even glancing at me. “I ordered that pink diamond necklace you liked. Don’t be mad at me anymore, hm?” A friend, looking for trouble, mixed vodka, red wine, and beer into a massive glass and shoved it in front of me. “Drink this, and we’ll consider it your apology to Serena.” Another guy complained: “Giving her such expensive liquor is a total waste.” In Carter’s social circle, Serena was everyone’s golden girl. Because of that, no one respected me. They went out of their way to humiliate and toy with me. Carter never stopped them. Especially not tonight, right in front of Serena. I picked up the cloudy mixture of alcohol and downed it in one go. An intense burning sensation ripped from my throat straight down to my stomach. Tears instantly welled in my eyes. I doubled over, leaning against the table, uncontrollably dry-heaving. “Alright, you’re ruining our appetite. Get out.” Carter casually picked up the heavy metal corkscrew and tossed it at me. He misjudged the force. It hit my temple. After a sharp sting, warm blood gushed out, running down my cheek. He froze, instinctively standing up and taking a step toward me. I covered my forehead, bowed deeply, and hurried out the door. 2 When I got home, I took a shower and clumsily bandaged the wound. Only then did I realize Carter had come back too. He looked furious. I figured it out quickly: “Did you and Serena get into a fight?” “Hazel!” He snapped coldly, striding over to me. He grabbed my wrists and shoved me hard against the edge of the bed. I struggled to push him away, but the difference in our strength was absolute. The chandelier swayed above us, the light stabbing my eyes until I squeezed them shut, but the tears kept leaking out. He paused for a second, pinching my chin to force me to look at him. “Why are you crying? Feeling wronged?” “Hazel, didn’t you say you liked me? That as long as you could stay by my side, you didn’t care what your title was?” His kiss was bruising, savage. I quickly tasted the metallic tang of blood in my mouth. Carter commanded: “Did you forget what I taught you? Close your eyes.” “Your eyes are the one part of you that look nothing like hers.” Under his rough hands, the pain intensified. When I opened my eyes in a panic, I met his dark, turbulent gaze. He was venting his rage on me. I suddenly understood. I had made Serena unhappy, so Carter was punishing me. A massive wave of humiliation swallowed me, and my mind drifted back to the past. When we first met, I was a dirt-poor college student. He was the high-and-mighty CEO. I worked at a bar. He got drunk, looked at my face, and lashed out: “Don’t wear a face that looks like hers while doing such cheap work here!” Later, my grandma, my only family, fell deathly ill. I maxed out every credit card and loan app, but I was still $50,000 short for her surgery. For that $50,000, I sold myself to Carter Sterling. I threw myself at him. The price was that he forbade me from continuing my master’s degree. “A stand-in needs to act like a stand-in.” His tone was flat, deciding my entire life in just a few words. “Didn’t you say you liked me? Then for the next three years, you stay right by my side. You go nowhere.” Back then, Serena had left him to study acting in Europe. Carter wouldn’t allow history to repeat itself. From that day on, my dream of pursuing academic research truly became an unattainable fantasy. My grandma didn’t survive the post-surgery complications. She held on for six months before passing away. I was in a daze, sitting in the cemetery for an entire night. At midnight, a freezing rain started to fall. Suddenly, an umbrella appeared over my head. It was Carter. He looked down at me from his towering height, his tone unusually gentle: “How much longer are you going to stay here? I’ll wait with you.” We were together for three years. I took care of his every need perfectly. In the quiet moments between us, there was occasional, fleeting warmth. But I knew Carter secretly despised me. Once, I went to pick him up from a gathering with his rich buddies. They blocked my way, hooting and hollering. They looked me up and down, laughing: “She really does look a bit like Serena—I heard she’s a top student at MIT? Even worked on some patent projects?” “No way. Hey, top student, how exactly do you do your little science projects? Why don’t you perform one for us right here?” I dug my nails into my palms and looked at them: “Scientific research is a serious matter. It’s not a parlor trick for your entertainment.” The ringleader sneered: “Stop acting so high and mighty. You talk about science, but aren’t you just trying to slap a higher price tag on yourself?” A bottle of liquor was shoved in front of me. “Not willing to perform? Then drink. Finish this bottle, and we’ll let Carter leave with you.” Through it all, Carter just leaned back on the leather sofa, flipping his silver lighter, watching me. Probably because he was drunk, the usually stoic man looked at me with a lazy smirk. “Drink it. Show everyone how well you can hold your liquor.” I stayed silent for two seconds before asking him: “If it were Serena standing here today, would you make her drink it?” That day, Carter completely lost his temper. He snatched the glass and shattered it against my chest. “What the hell are you? Do you think you deserve to be compared to her?” “She’s not as cheap as you. She wouldn’t sell her body for fifty grand.” I blinked hard, picking up a shot glass that had rolled onto the floor. “Okay. I’ll drink it.” A poor person’s life is worthless, let alone their dignity. I did take his $50,000. I brought this on myself. 3 Before Serena left for Europe, she was already an A-list actress. Now that she was back with an international aura, she was drowning in movie offers. She called Carter and told him she lacked a reliable personal assistant. “I think that Hazel girl you keep around isn’t bad. She seems like she knows how to serve people.” Carter went silent for two seconds. She chuckled: “What? Can’t bear to part with her?” “No.” Carter replied flatly, “If you need her, I’ll send her over.” I followed Serena onto the movie set as her assistant. During a break, the supporting actress, Chloe Vance, came over to gossip. “Serena, your assistant actually looks a lot like you.” “Except her eyes are different. She has a teardrop mole. Honestly, she looks a bit more charming than you.” Chloe was originally cast as the female lead for this movie, but when Serena returned, she used her connections to snatch the role. Chloe was pissed. She said that purely to get under Serena’s skin. Sure enough, Serena’s face dropped. The disgust in her eyes when she looked at me was barely concealed. After wrap-up that afternoon, she announced she had lost her ring. “I still had it when we were shooting by the lake. It must have fallen in.” Her eyes shifted, finally landing on me. “Hazel, go into the lake and find it for me.” The artificial lake wasn’t deep; the water barely reached my waist. I waded in, bending over, feeling through the freezing mud at the bottom inch by inch. The setting sun painted the sky a bloody red. As night fell, the light slipped away inch by inch. Everyone on set knew Serena was doing this on purpose. They stood on the shore, watching in silence. No one was going to stick their neck out for a nobody assistant. My fingers grew pale and pruned from the freezing water. Whenever I pulled my hands up, freezing mud dripped from them. It suddenly made me think of college. I used to spend hours in the lab working on my thesis. My hands had to be dry and impeccably clean to handle test tubes, petri dishes, and glass slides, observing results and logging data. My mentors all said I was an incredibly gifted student who would go far in this field. But a normal person’s life can’t withstand even the slightest storm. Just one bad break can destroy everything. It had only been three years, but that life felt like a previous incarnation. Finally, when the sky was pitch black, a stylist spoke up: “Serena, I found your ring! It was on the table in the makeup trailer.” “Oh, I must have accidentally left it there.” Serena took the ring and casually tossed it into her Birkin bag. “Come on up, Hazel. Clean yourself up. Don’t act like I was bullying you or something.” After work, Carter came to pick her up. I was sitting under a pear tree outside the set, soaked to the bone. I don’t know how much time passed before that black Rolls Royce doubled back. Carter got out and walked over to me. “Go home and change.” I didn’t look up. His tone softened slightly. “Don’t be mad at Serena. She was just in a bad mood. Once she vented, it was fine.” When I still didn’t respond, Carter lost his patience. “Enough is enough, Hazel. Who are you throwing a tantrum for?” I sniffled, holding back my tears, and looked up at him. “Carter, it’s been three years. And now Serena is back.” “Let me go.” His face shifted slightly. “Where are you going to go?” I reached into my canvas tote bag and pulled out a stack of papers. “I applied to the bioscience graduate program at Stanford. They already sent my acceptance letter…” Before I could finish, Carter violently snatched the papers from my hand and ripped them to shreds. He grabbed my freezing, wet wrist and shoved me into the car. His burning palm pressed against my icy skin, the heat slowly transferring over. Under the dim dome light, Carter stared at me with terrifying, dark eyes. “Don’t even think about it. You’re not going anywhere.” “Hazel, you are my girlfriend.” 4 After that day, I didn’t return to the movie set. Carter found Serena a new assistant and moved me into his corporate office as his executive assistant. “You’ll follow me from now on.” He spun a fountain pen in his hand, looking up at me, his tone softening. “That day on set, Chloe Vance intentionally provoked you and Serena. I’ve already made some calls. No one in Hollywood will ever hire her again.” Seeing that I had no reaction and remained silent, Carter’s face darkened. He warned me: “Hazel, don’t push your luck.” Was I the one pushing my luck? Chloe was just bitter about losing her role and threw a few verbal jabs at Serena. Carter and I both knew perfectly well who the real culprit was. But because I made him angry that day, he ignored the fact that I was freezing and soaking wet, and deliberately tormented me in the back of his car for hours. I had been running a low-grade fever for days. Dizzy from the meds, I had no energy to argue with him. I just lowered my head. “Understood.” That evening, after Serena wrapped up filming, I drove Carter to meet her for dinner. The moment she saw me, her voice turned icy: “Carter, I don’t want to fight with you, but stop bringing this eyesore around to ruin my mood.” Carter glanced at me. “Wait in the car.” I nodded and walked away. On my phone, there was an email from my prospective advisor at Stanford. “Hazel, the acceptance letter has been mailed. When can you arrive on campus? After reviewing your portfolio, I’ve applied for a full-ride fellowship for you. I am very much looking forward to mentoring a student as gifted and hardworking as you.” I squeezed my hand in the empty air. As if that would somehow let me grasp the torn pieces of the acceptance letter Carter had ripped apart and thrown away. That night, Carter didn’t come home. He sent me a text: “I’m taking Serena home. Don’t wait up.” “Are you staying the night there?” His reply was ruthless: “Hazel, you have no right to ask that.” I drove the car to the cemetery on the outskirts of the city. My grandma had been buried there for over two years. The photo embedded in the tombstone was taken during her final days. Back then, she was gravely ill. I combined the money she saved her entire life with everything I shamelessly begged from my professors and classmates. It still wasn’t enough. I was short fifty grand. To Carter, that was just the cost of a night out drinking with his friends. Or a handbag for his flavor of the week. But to me, it was an insurmountable chasm. After her surgery, my grandma clutched my hand and repeatedly warned me. She said we couldn’t treat this money lightly just because it meant nothing to Carter. So for three years, I obeyed Carter’s every command, agreeing to even his most unreasonable demands. “But… do I have to waste the rest of my life, my ideals, and my ambition, trapped here?” The cemetery was completely empty, save for the wind and the crickets. My grandma on the tombstone just looked at me in silence. She would never answer me again. 5 That afternoon, a familiar face suddenly sought me out. It was Chloe Vance. She was no longer the arrogant starlet who traded barbs with Serena on set; she looked utterly disheveled. Sitting in the corner of the coffee shop, she asked me: “You must be furious about how Serena treats you, right?” “I know how hard you worked to climb Carter’s social ladder, only for her to return and ruin everything. I hired someone to take pictures of her and Carter spending the night together. Once they leak, all you have to do is step forward and say you’re the official girlfriend. Serena will be ruined.” “America’s sweet little darling is actually a homewrecker. Hilarious.” I finished my glass of lemon water, shook my head, and rejected her. But I underestimated Chloe’s madness. Her proud acting career had been effortlessly crushed by Carter; she had lost her mind. That night, intimate photos of Serena and Carter hit #1 on X. A so-called “insider” spilled: “Carter Sterling has a girlfriend. They’ve been together for years. I’ve seen them having dinner, and it definitely wasn’t Serena Blair.” To prove they weren’t lying, they posted a photo. It was a blurry paparazzi shot, but you could still see the woman in the photo had short hair, a slender frame, and a teardrop mole by her eye. She was looking up at the man across the table, her eyes shining brightly. I stared at the photo, slightly dazed. This was from two years ago, right after my grandma passed away. I was severely depressed. Carter took me to a niche, newly opened restaurant. They served the regional cuisine from my hometown. The seasoning tasted exactly like the food my grandma cooked for decades. I took one bite, knew he had brought me here on purpose, and looked up to earnestly thank him. “Thank you, Mr. Sterling.” He smirked: “Hazel, is that what you call your boyfriend?” He wanted me to call him Carter. I couldn’t get used to that kind of intimacy, so I just called him by his full name. Only later did I learn that was how Serena had called him since they were kids. “Hazel!” I snapped back to reality to see Carter storming through the door. He took massive strides toward me. He raised his hand and slapped me across the face, then grabbed my collar and slammed me against the edge of the table. A photo was violently thrown in my face. It was a picture of Chloe and me sitting in the dimly lit corner of the coffee shop. His voice was like ice: “What more do you want? If you didn’t have a face that looked somewhat like Serena’s, you wouldn’t even have had the right to sell yourself to me to save your grandma! And now you’re teaming up with outsiders to frame Serena? How can you be so vicious!” My cheek burned. My tightly gripped collar choked me, waves of suffocation washing over me. I opened my mouth, struggling to speak: “It wasn’t me.” “I rejected her.” Carter didn’t believe me. He violently pinched my chin, scrutinizing my face as if he wished he could carve the flesh right off my bones. After a long moment, he sneered: “Cheap trash. You sicken me.” He let go, watching me collapse weakly onto the floor, and slammed the door as he left

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I think my boyfriend might have reincarnated. He seems to have realized I’m a toxic woman who was just playing with his feelings. And he’s started treating my sweet, pure-as-an-angel little sister exceptionally well. The other day, I saw him pin my sister against the wall. With red eyes, he gently pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, holding back his emotions. “I was so stupid,” he whispered. “It turns out you were the one I was looking for all along.” “In my last life, I missed my chance with you.” “In this life, I’ll use everything I have to make it up to you, okay?” 1 This was the fifth time Carter hadn’t picked me up after class. In the past, this would have been absolutely impossible. I sat by the window, staring at the endless rain outside. I made sure my makeup would get ruined by the rain just the right amount. And then I dashed out into the downpour. 2 Carter and Lily were sitting in a coffee shop. He raised his hand and gently brushed her bangs aside. She shrank back shyly. I pushed the door open and burst into the shop. The chime of the bell sliced through the quiet atmosphere. My little sister turned pale with fright, while Carter dropped his hand and looked up at me. “What are you doing here?” I offered a weak, fragile smile. When I first walked in, I caught my reflection in the glass door. My makeup wasn’t totally ruined, but just smudged enough to invoke pity. So when I sat down next to Carter, he ultimately didn’t push me away. “You promised to pick me up. Did you forget again?” I leaned in close, almost bumping the tip of his nose. I had complete confidence in my looks, especially when I stared at him this pitifully. The man hesitated for a long moment before lowering his eyes and apologizing. “I’m sorry.” “Lily had some homework she didn’t understand and asked for my help. I lost track of time…” “I didn’t mean to leave you waiting.” “…” I smiled and magnanimously told him it was fine. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of my dear sister. Her fists were clenched tight under the table. Her heartbroken expression was almost impossible to hide. 3 Back in middle school, when those kids shoved my head into a toilet, I made a vow. I would do whatever it took to live the life I wanted. I would absolutely never let anyone see me in a pathetic state again. So, I’m not a good person. I never have been. I studied hard, worked on my posture, figured out how to present my best side to others, and expanded my social circle. I ruthlessly molded myself into someone outstanding—so outstanding that whenever people mentioned my name, they would say: “Harper? How can a girl that perfect even exist?” I had finally earned the approval of my strict, unsmiling father. My teachers loved me, and my friends supported me. I thought my life could just maintain this delicate balance forever. Until Lily showed up. 4 She was my dad’s illegitimate daughter from an affair. Lily had sought us out herself. The moment she appeared, the balance of our family shattered. I cried and interrogated my dad about why he had another woman on the side. He stayed silent. Meanwhile, Lily huddled in the corner of the room, acting as if absolutely nothing was her fault. Moreover, Lily seemed to possess a natural magic. Her magic was an effortless, genuine pitifulness—completely different from my calculated acting. It was as if everyone around her felt an overwhelming urge to protect her. Before long, my dad started defending her. All my friends told me to be nicer to her, saying it wasn’t my sister’s fault, and begging me not to act like the evil stepsister from a soap opera. Once again, I felt a deep sense of crisis. Because I suddenly realized that everyone around me was being drawn away by her. I needed to protect my territory. 5 So, I stole Carter. But rather than saying I stole him, it was more like Lily handed him to me on a silver platter. Lily, being the kind-hearted Samaritan she is, participated in a hurricane disaster relief effort. While she was there, she saved Carter, the heir of the wealthy Hayes family, who had been vacationing near the mountains. Unfortunately, Carter’s vision was damaged at the time, and his consciousness was blurry. He couldn’t remember her face clearly. So, I swooped in and claimed her rightful place. Carter went to great lengths trying to find the girl who saved him in the disaster zone. But Lily adamantly refused to come forward. I said, “Sister, if you really don’t want him to recognize you, why don’t you introduce him to me?” Lily bit her lip and agreed. But I figured. She was probably regretting it right about now. 6 Carter, oh Carter. Carter was a gentle, righteous guy. When he was good to me… He never missed a single meal for the two of us, and he tracked my cycle better than I did. Every green grape he fed me was carefully peeled. But overnight. His attitude toward me just changed. His former passion turned into resistance, and he even stopped answering my calls. On a Saturday morning, I went to Carter’s art studio. He was an oil painting major, a graduate of a top-tier European art academy. The studio smelled of sunlight and pine resin. Stepping into the spacious room, I saw him sleeping against his easel from afar. He seemed to have pulled an all-nighter; his breathing was steady. I leaned in to look at his canvas. The person on it looked about thirty or forty percent like me, smiling at the painter. It hadn’t been colored yet. It took me a long moment to realize. It really wasn’t me. It was Lily. 7 I was staring at the painting so intensely that I didn’t even notice the man waking up behind me. I was crouching. When I turned around, I caught him silently watching me. “What’s wrong? Why are you painting my sister?” “Paint me next time, won’t you?” I simply climbed into his lap. He sighed and wrapped his arms around me. “I don’t have time.” His actions were gentle, but his words were ruthless. I thought the phrase “ulterior motives” perfectly described our current dynamic. But, I really was a master of disguise. I blinked and looked back at him. “Carter, hey. If I ever do something you don’t like, you have to tell me, okay?” “Don’t keep it bottled up, dummy…” I reached out and pinched his nose. It wasn’t just to show my vulnerable side. It was more to find a way to ease the tension in our relationship. Sometimes, not talking to each other is the real culprit behind a broken relationship. And right now, I still needed Carter. His brown eyes stared at me for a long time. He looked so serious that I got the sinking feeling I was digging my own grave. A moment later, I heard him ask: “That day, was the person who saved me really you?” 8 “…” That was a very hard question to answer. Carter graduated from a prestigious school, and his family’s business covered half the city. He was an ideal and suitable marriage prospect on my path to a perfect life. At first, I really was just dating him with the goal of marriage in mind. But after we got together, I realized that when it came to real feelings, I was just a naive kid. Simply put, I fell for him. So lying to him started to feel incredibly tricky. But he didn’t wait for my answer. He pushed me off his lap. For the first time, I saw disappointment in his eyes. “You don’t have to answer.” “…” Yeah. My silence seemed to have answered everything. It was just that my heart felt a little empty. It was as if the fortress I had so painstakingly built. Had been effortlessly reduced to rubble by someone else. 9 “So? Did you and Carter break up?” On the campus rooftop, I was drinking coffee with another guy. His name was Mason, an underclassman. Even though he was younger, he was one of the few genuine friends I had made. We had known each other since middle school, so he had seen what I looked like when I was being bullied. He even helped me take revenge on the girls who tormented me. I lowered my head and rubbed the edge of the soda can. Given the situation, even if Carter hadn’t explicitly dumped me yet, it probably wasn’t far off. “Oh right, your sister has been coming to see me a lot lately.” Mason stretched lazily and grinned at me. … If you asked me to look back on it now. I definitely should have been on high alert the moment Mason said those words. “Oh right, your sister has been coming to see me a lot lately.” Because gradually. Lily’s name started creeping into my conversations with Mason more and more. After Carter stopped contacting me. The person I talked to the most was Mason. My life was still incredibly busy. I had a lot of competitions to enter. Because it wasn’t just my love life; I needed to be perfect in every single aspect to maintain my carefully crafted persona. Living like this was exhausting, but it was all I knew. I never complained, until one day, during a speech competition. Something happened backstage that made me feel like my entire life. Was just one big joke. 10 I was the last one to go on stage for the speech. The grand finale, you could say. So eventually, I was the only one left in the dressing room. When the door was violently pushed open. I was just pinning my last hair clip. The person who walked in was my boyfriend, whom I hadn’t seen in a very long time: Carter. Oh, and he was holding another girl’s hand. My sister, Lily. He was furious, and Lily was crying buckets. He dragged the girl over to me and shoved her sleeve up for me to see. “You did this, didn’t you?” On the girl’s pale arm were several raw, red welts. They looked like lash marks. I raised an eyebrow. My reaction seemed to make him even angrier. “What is that look on your face?” “Heh, Harper, you won’t even spare your own sister, will you?” My good sister was still sobbing uncontrollably, clutching Carter’s sleeve. “Please, Carter, stop asking.” “It has nothing… nothing to do with my sister…” Carter. How intimate. I lowered my eyes to stare at the wounds on her arm. I had no idea where they came from. But Carter seemed utterly convinced that I was the vicious mastermind behind it all. Just as I opened my mouth to explain. Someone else walked through the door. Mason walked in with his hands in his pockets. Seeing him, I breathed a sigh of relief. I tried to force a calm smile. “Carter, think about it rationally. Why would I do something like this to my own flesh and blood?” “Mason, perfect timing. You know me, I was bullied before, how could I ever…” I stopped mid-sentence. Because I saw the look on Mason’s face. He had never looked at me with such absolute disgust before. My mind uncontrollably replayed his recent words. Over the past few days, Mason had constantly brought up Lily. “Your sister is so shy, man.” “Your sister really sucks at Calculus.” “Bumped into your sister in the cafeteria today.” “Your sister…” In the dead silence of the dressing room, his voice was the last thing to echo. I listened as he said, word by word: “Harper, I was so wrong about you.” “Just because you were bullied, does that give you the right to bully someone else?”

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I was at the dealership getting my luxury car serviced when the customer service manager accidentally pulled up a clip from my dashcam. On the screen, my fiancé, Marcus Hayes, was wrapping his arm around a heavily pregnant woman, looking incredibly tender. I forwarded the video to him right then and there. After a few seconds of tense silence, he texted back: “That’s just my distant cousin. Her husband is deployed overseas, so I’m just looking out for her.” I hesitated. Thinking of our seven years of history, I chose to believe him. Just then, a floating screen of glowing, semi-transparent comments suddenly drifted across my field of vision. The comments claimed she was me from ten years in the future. [Don’t believe him! Marcus is cheating on you.] [The luxury wedding gifts from your dad and brother, all the money you invested in his startup—he’s going to use all of it to pamper his mistress.] [In ten years, he will cause the tragic deaths of your father and brother, stealing every single penny your family owns.] My fingers turned ice-cold. I thought I was sleep-deprived and hallucinating. “What the hell? I’ve been with Marcus for seven years. I know what kind of man he is.” The floating screen erupted again: [We knew you wouldn’t believe it.] [Drive to Villa 8 at The Grand Crest right now. That’s the mansion your dad bought for your wedding. Marcus is hosting a baby welcoming party for his son right there!] My heart clenched. Taking a deep breath, I dialed my billionaire father. “Dad, Marcus is cheating on me.” “I’m heading to The Grand Crest now. Bring some security and meet me there.”

On the other end of the line, my dad’s voice exploded with rage: “I knew that penniless loser couldn’t be trusted! Thank God I stopped you from revealing our family’s true net worth to him!” Immediately after, my brother Austin’s cold, sharp voice came through the speaker: “Don’t be scared, Natalie. I’m bringing our security team right now. I’ll personally snap his legs for this!” I hung up, slammed my foot on the gas pedal, and sped toward The Grand Crest. The cold night air rushed through the half-open window, chilling me to the bone. Just a few days ago, Marcus had held me close, whispering sweet promises as we discussed our wedding details. I gripped the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white. Marcus, you better pray this isn’t true, or I will destroy you! Before long, my car screeched to a halt in front of Villa 8. An elegant welcome sign decorated with red roses and pastel balloons stood at the entrance. “Welcoming Party for the Newborn Son of Mr. Marcus Hayes and his beloved wife, Chloe Vance.” I clenched my fists and charged toward the entrance, only to be blocked by two security guards. “Excuse me, ma’am. Mr. Hayes is hosting a private party at Villa 8 tonight. Invitation only.” The security captain looked me up and down with obvious disdain. Since I had been trying on wedding dresses earlier, I was only wearing a simple, thin beige slip dress. I certainly didn’t look like an elite guest. I let out a cold, bitter laugh. “I am Marcus’s fiancée, and more importantly, I am the sole owner of this property!” “This is my house. How did the property management allow strangers to host a party here? Why wasn’t I notified?!” The guard scoffed openly. “Your house? Do you even have a mirror at home?” “Mr. Hayes’s wife is Chloe Vance. The happy couple even held their wedding ceremony right here in this villa! If you want to crash a rich man’s party, do your homework first. Get lost!” My chest tightened so hard I could barely breathe. They held their wedding here?! Marcus had postponed our wedding year after year, claiming he wasn’t ready. Yet, he had already walked down the aisle with someone else. As I stood there shaking with rage, the floating comments popped up again: [Don’t just stand there and take it! Remember the master key card your dad gave you? It’s in your coat pocket!] Right! The key card! Without another word, I pulled out the sleek black card and tapped it against the security scanner. Beep. Master access granted. Welcome home, Ms. Sterling. Leaving the two guards frozen in shock, I marched right in. Inside, Marcus was smiling warmly, his arm wrapped around Chloe as they mingled with the high-society crowd, clinking champagne glasses. The sight made me grind my teeth, fury boiling in my chest. A few days ago, I had suggested we decorate this villa for our upcoming wedding. Marcus had avoided my eyes, claiming his company’s cash flow was tight and that we should wait. It wasn’t because he had no money! He had already stolen my house to nest with his secret family, terrified I would find out! The guests surrounded Marcus and Chloe, showering them with pathetic flattery: “Mr. Hayes, you are so young and successful! And now Mrs. Hayes has blessed you with a beautiful baby boy. You really have it all!” “Exactly! This penthouse estate at The Grand Crest is one of the most exclusive properties in the city. Mr. Hayes really spared no expense for his beautiful wife!” “Chloe is so lucky to have married such a devoted, perfect gentleman!” Marcus beamed with pride, leaning down to kiss Chloe’s forehead. “Chloe went through so much to give me a son. This villa is nothing. In the future, everything I own belongs to her.” I laughed out loud, stepping into the light. “My, what a lively party. I brought a spectacular gift myself. I wonder if Mr. Hayes is ready to receive it?” In an instant, every eye in the room locked onto me. “Who is she? Why is she dressed so cheaply? How did she get in?” The moment Marcus saw my face, the color drained completely from his skin. He rushed forward, grabbing my wrist in a vice grip, and hissed in a panicked whisper: “Natalie? What are you doing here?! Leave right now. I’ll explain everything to you tonight, I promise!” Explain? I sneered, grabbed him by his designer tie, and yanked him forcefully into the center of the ballroom. Marcus gasped in shock, opening his mouth to speak. Slap! I delivered a ferocious slap right across his smug, hypocritical face! Pointing at Chloe, I demanded at the top of my lungs: “If Chloe is your wife, then who the hell am I? Marcus, explain that to everyone right now!”

A hundred eyes stared at us in stunned silence. Marcus’s lips trembled, but he was too guilty to utter a single word. I turned to the crowd of wealthy guests, raising my voice: “Listen up, everyone! I am Marcus’s actual fiancée! This villa belongs to me!” “Now, if you have nothing to do with this trash, get out! I have some family garbage to clean up!” The atmosphere turned freezing cold. Suddenly, Marcus let out a mocking laugh and violently shook off my grip. His eyes filled with disgust and pity. “Where did this crazy bitch come from? How did security let a psycho in?” “Today is my son’s celebration! You came here to cause a scene? Which of my business competitors paid you to do this?!” “Security! Get this lunatic out of here!” Seeing this, Chloe’s eyes welled with tears instantly. She pulled a thick stack of cash from her designer purse and handed it to me timidly: “Miss, if you did this because you’re desperate for money, please take this. Just don’t ruin our special day, okay?” The moment she said that, the crowd erupted in murmurs of disgust directed at me. “So she’s just a gold-digging psycho? Trying to extort a rich family at a baby party!” “Throw her out! Don’t let her dirty the young heir’s celebration!” Just then, the floating comments flashed before my eyes again: [Vile bastards! Don’t back down! Slap him with the truth! You have the digital deed of this villa on your phone!] Yes! I pulled out my phone and brought up the official, legally stamped digital deed of the property. “Look closely, all of you! The sole owner of this villa is Natalie Sterling!” “Who does Marcus think he is? He couldn’t afford a single square foot of this place on his own!” Whispers broke out across the room. Marcus’s face flushed red, then turned a ghostly pale. “Oh, please. Where did you photoshop that fake deed? You dare flaunt it in front of the real owner?” A mocking male voice cut through the room. It was Zach Cole, Marcus’s wealthy best friend. He walked in, flanked by several beefy security guards. He glared at the guards, annoyed: “Are you guys blind? Why is this crazy woman still standing here?” The security captain sweated profusely: “Mr. Cole, she… she had the master key card to Villa 8…” Hearing this, a dark, vicious glint flashed in Marcus’s eyes. He suddenly raised his foot and kicked me hard right in the shin! The sudden pain knocked me off balance, and I crashed onto the hard floor. The master key card slipped from my pocket. Zach bent down, picked up the card, inspected it, and sneered. “The counterfeiting technology these days is impressive. Nice replica.” With a sharp snap, he broke the master card in half and threw the pieces right into my face. “If you’re really the owner, why haven’t any of us seen you around during the six months Marcus has been living here?” “You’ll do anything for money, won’t you? Even fabricating a pathetic lie like this!” The crowd went wild. “This is insane! People are actually counterfeiting security cards now!” “I knew it! She’s dressed like a beggar. There’s no way she owns a mansion in The Grand Crest!” Chloe sighed, tossing a couple of hundred-dollar bills onto my head. “Take this money and get your head checked.” “If you get on your knees and apologize right now, we’ll be generous enough not to press charges for trespassing.” Marcus held Chloe tightly, looking down at me with cold malice: “Did you hear her? Take the money, apologize, and get the hell out! Don’t make me get physical!” The crowd’s mob mentality was fully ignited. “Disgusting! Beat some sense into this shameless bitch!” “Why are we being polite to a grifter? Drag her out!” Someone threw a heavy glass tumbler at me. Smash! Scalding pain bloomed on my temple as warm blood immediately rushed down, blurring my eyes. The next second, a cup of hot coffee was poured directly onto my back. I curled up on the freezing floor, surrounded by their vicious, mocking laughter. Marcus turned to the security guards, his face filled with utter revulsion: “She’s clearly mentally unstable. Call the asylum and have them drag her away!”

Marcus adjusted his tailored suit, raised his glass, and toasted the crowd: “Everyone, I am truly sorry. My apologies for letting a pathetic lunatic ruin our evening.” “I’ll host another banquet next week to make it up to you all.” The guests immediately smiled, kissing his feet: “Don’t worry about it, Mr. Hayes! Your competitors are just jealous of your success. They can only resort to hiring low-life crazy women to do their dirty work!” “Exactly! With your net worth and influence, you’ll be running the New York business scene in no time. This pathetic stunt is just laughable!” I wiped the blood from my eyes, staring at him like a hawk. “Running New York? Without me, he’s absolutely nothing!” My voice ringed through the hall, freezing the room instantly. Everyone stared at me in disbelief. Fighting off the dizziness, I stood up slowly and glared at Marcus: “Marcus! Why don’t you tell everyone how you actually got to where you are today?!” Marcus’s fists clenched, his knuckles popping. He turned to me, a rare, murderous hatred flashing in his eyes. I laughed bitterly. “The Waterfront Plaza project. How did you get the bid?” “If I hadn’t made a personal call to Mr. Davis of the Sterling Group, your pathetic little company wouldn’t have even passed the security gate of the bidding hall!” Someone in the crowd mocked: “Is she still daydreaming? She talks as if she owns the Sterling Group!” I turned to the crowd, my voice dripping with icy pride: “Have you heard of the Sterling family? I am Natalie Sterling, the only daughter of Arthur Sterling, the richest tycoon in New York!” “If I hadn’t poured my family’s endless resources into his startup, do you honestly think this idiot could become a New York tech mogul in just three short years?!” I pulled up the digital copy of our marriage certificate on my phone: “Still don’t believe me? Look at this! Can you fake a government registry?!” A collective gasp echoed through the room. The atmosphere turned incredibly tense. “Shut up! Shut your mouth!” Marcus completely lost his mind. He lunged forward, grabbed my neck, and slammed me hard against the floor! Slap! He delivered another brutal blow to my face! “Who do you think you are?! How dare you spread lies at my party!” “If you’re a Sterling, then I’m the king of the world! Shut the hell up!” Seeing the guests whispering in doubt, Chloe panicked. She threw herself at Marcus’s feet, crying hysterically: “Marcus, stop! Don’t hit her! It’s all my fault!” She turned to me, sobbing: “Natalie, I know you became mentally unstable after Marcus broke up with you, but please stop lying! Please don’t ruin him! We’ll give you whatever money you want!” She reached out to grab my arm, but the moment her hand touched me, a vicious glint flashed in her eyes. She deliberately threw herself backward, crashing onto the floor, clutching her stomach and screaming: “Ah! My baby! My stomach!” “Chloe!” Marcus’s eyes turned bloodshot with fury. He turned back and threw a heavy punch right into my abdomen! “You crazy bitch! How dare you attack my wife in front of everyone!” With a sickening crack, I felt my ribs fracture, and a mouthful of blood sprayed onto the white tiles. I curled up in excruciating pain, reaching out a bloody hand toward Marcus. “Help… call 911…” Marcus stood over me, looking down with pure disgust. “Stop faking it. You brought a fake blood pack just to extort us?” “Nice prop. Too bad your acting sucks.” The crimson blood pooled around me, stainining the marble floor. Looking at the blood, a brief flash of panic crossed Marcus’s face. But his expression quickly hardened. “Throw her into the outdoor pool. Let her sober up!” The security guards stepped forward, grabbing me by my hair and dragging me across the floor like a dead dog. To show their loyalty to Marcus, several guests stepped forward to kick me as I was dragged past. “Shameless whore! Stop pretending to be dead!” “She tried to hurt Mrs. Hayes! Drowning is too good for her!” Splash! I was thrown brutally into the freezing water of the outdoor pool. Marcus walked over, grabbed me by my wet hair, and shoved my head deep under the icy water! “Sober yet? Say one more word, and I’ll make sure you never breathe again!” The suffocating water filled my lungs. The agonizing pain from my broken ribs and the lack of oxygen made my vision go dark. Just as I was about to lose consciousness completely… The sharp screech of tires echoed from the main gates of the estate!

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My son inherited my husband’s language talent. At just six years old, he was already fluent in eight languages. He and his father would often chat in foreign languages right in front of me. Today, while we were walking through the mall, my son pointed at my stomach and said in German, “Mama, der Bauch ist groß.” (Mom’s belly is so big.) My husband smiled and replied in French, “On peut mettre un cochon.” (We could fit a pig inside.) My son doubled over laughing, mocking me in Italian, “La mamma è un maiale.” (Mom is a pig anyway.) I turned to ask them what they were saying, but on second thought, I decided not to. Even if I asked, they wouldn’t tell me. Instead, they would just look at me with sneers, telling me to guess or look it up online. I simply quickened my pace, stopped in front of a luggage store, and said to the clerk, “Give me the largest suitcase you have, please.” After the father and son came out of the mall restroom, they went to get ice cream. Seeing me still picking out a suitcase at the storefront, they finally walked over, looking annoyed. Julian said, “What are you buying a suitcase for? It’s not like you’re going on a trip.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him curling his lip, mockingly imitating the way I squatted down to show our son. Leo laughed so hard his mouth wouldn’t close. The ice cream in his hand dripped onto the white denim jeans I had just washed for him. He flinched instinctively, but then, seeing his father backing him up, all fear vanished. He didn’t even bother to move his legs, letting the ice cream melt and run down his pants. I turned my head away, not wanting to watch the scene that was making my blood pressure spike. Instead, I kept discussing the details of the suitcase with the store owner. Seeing me ignore him, Julian asked again. “Clara, are you mute?” “You don’t speak foreign languages, but did you forget English too?” I didn’t see what was so funny about that. But hearing it, Leo burst into laughter again. A wave of disgust washed over me. For the first time, I wondered if there was something wrong with my own son’s head. To avoid making a scene in the mall, I explained that our old suitcase at home was worn out and I was just replacing it. Julian gave a dismissive grunt, then pulled Leo toward the arcade on the second floor. He was always like this. He never asked questions because he wanted answers. He just wanted me to submit to his rules. In his eyes, I was not allowed to ignore him, and I was not allowed to disobey. Naturally, it wasn’t just me. Everyone in this family had to obey his commands. He was a male chauvinist. Before we got married, I actually thought that was a good thing. I was indecisive and weak-willed. So my mother had suggested I find a strong, capable man to spend the rest of my life with. Then I found him. He was indeed very efficient. From daily meals to buying our house, to which school our child should attend and what extracurricular classes to sign up for. Whenever he saw me struggling to decide, he would make the best choice for me. Our life together had seemed pleasant enough. But ever since we discovered our son’s language talent, Cracks began to slowly appear in our lives. Julian wanted Leo to learn as much as possible. He signed him up for French, German, Mandarin, Italian, Japanese, and Korean. Recently, seeing how fast Leo was learning, he added Spanish and Swedish. I felt terrible for our son and tried to convince Julian not to push him so hard, warning him it might backfire. But he wouldn’t listen. He lectured me on how this was for Leo’s future, hinting that I simply didn’t know how to raise a child. Because Leo spent so much time with him, he gradually started harboring resentment toward me too. Everything I did was wrong. Anything I did made him angry. Even today, fearing he was cooped up studying too much, I brought him to the mall, only for him to complain the entire way that I was ruining his study time. It was obvious. I was despised by both my husband and my son. Over the years, it wasn’t that I hadn’t tried to fit in. But I really couldn’t learn those foreign languages. Even though I memorized vocabulary until midnight, carrying word cards while working or doing chores, I just couldn’t retain them. But Leo only had to look at a word once to remember it. He would then laugh at me, calling me the stupidest person in the house. Over time, my confidence was crushed, and I decided to stop trying. I resigned myself to taking care of the housework and being their support. But as time went on, I became nothing more than a maid in their eyes. Aside from sentences like, “Mom, I want steak tonight,” or “Clara, where are my socks?” They had no other communication with me. Their attention was never on me. Even when I cut my hand while chopping vegetables, or got my foot caught in the elevator door, They didn’t even bother to spare me a glance. I was utterly sick of it. In this home, I felt zero love. And on top of that, I had to constantly endure their malicious mockery. During dinner, if Julian wanted to test Leo’s language skills, he would suddenly ask him, “Leo, how do you say ‘Mom’s cooking tastes awful’ in Korean?” Leo would think for a moment, then, getting a bright idea, reply: “엄마가 만든 음식은 정말 맛이 없다” And just like that, Leo would be rewarded with screen time on his computer. Or before bed, Julian would suddenly quiz Leo, asking him to translate a Japanese sentence into English. “母は日本の女性によく似ている” Leo didn’t understand the underlying meaning of the sentence, but he translated it word-for-word anyway. His childish voice echoed in the bedroom. “The translation is: My wife is just like an old-fashioned Japanese housewife.” Then, Leo asked curiously, “Daddy, are Japanese housewives as ugly and submissive as Mommy?” Julian’s eyes flashed with a knowing gleam. He raised an eyebrow and said maliciously, “You’ll understand when you grow up.” Hearing their conversation, I naturally felt sick to my stomach. I pulled Julian into our room, complaining about why he had to do that, why he was teaching our son such things, and why he was always targeting me. But Julian didn’t feel he had done anything wrong at all. He replied unreasonably, “What? Are you saying I don’t know how to raise my own kid?” “Fine, you raise him then.” He knew very well that Leo never listened to me. Saying this was nothing short of a provocation and a show of power. I backed down, uttering a few useless words about not doing it again, And then covered my face with the blanket and went to sleep. Only today, I suddenly didn’t want to hide under the blanket anymore. I had always deliberately pretended not to care. Hiding myself away to lick my wounds. But in reality, it hurt deeply. I couldn’t discipline my son, And I couldn’t get respect from my husband. I was a failure. An absolute failure. That was why I bought that massive suitcase. To pack my few clothes, And my trampled dignity.

When I said I wanted a divorce, everyone around the table laughed. Julian did too. He sat at the head of the table holding his wine glass, looking at me with amusement, As if waiting to watch a comedy show. It wasn’t until they finished their previous conversation that they remembered what I had said about the divorce. Julian’s best friend, Marcus, spoke first. “Clara, you should count your blessings.” “Divorce? If it weren’t for Julian, who would even know your name?” Then, the rest of the group started throwing insults at me, one after another, each worse than the last. “Yeah, Clara. Think about it. You were just a daycare assistant when Julian noticed you. He gave you status, used his connections to get you promoted, and when you weren’t happy, he bought a whole preschool just so you could be the director. What, now that you’re well-fed, you’re going to bite the hand that feeds you and look down on Julian?” “And everything on you—the gold jewelry, the BMW you drive, the latest iPhone—which of these didn’t come from Julian’s pocket? Don’t be so ungrateful, alright?” They were right. Julian had indeed given me everything. But it was a transaction from the very beginning. When he wanted to please me and get benefits from me, he spared no expense. I didn’t force him to do any of it. Besides, I had suffered endless humiliation in this marriage. Yet, I had never said a single bad word about him. In front of others, to maintain his alpha-male image, I always acted like a submissive, quiet wife. But him? He either degraded me at every turn or let his friends look down on me. The higher his image soared, the cheaper my status became. I didn’t understand why he had to do this. In the beginning, his friends respected me, even putting me on a pedestal because of his status. Why couldn’t we be equals? Why did I always have to be a step below him? The more I thought about it, the more wronged I felt. I stood up, wanting to leave. Anyway, I had said what I needed to say. Once I packed up, I would see him at the courthouse. But though I wanted to leave, someone wouldn’t let me. With a single look from Julian, one of his lackeys blocked me at the door. Julian swirled the wine in his glass, ran his eyes up and down my body, and said, “Sure, we can get a divorce.” “I haven’t cheated, and I haven’t abused you.” “Return everything I bought for you, and we’ll sign the papers.” He was convinced I wouldn’t dare to go through with it. So he used every disgusting method to pressure me. I said, “Even in a standard divorce, your assets are partly mine.” “So, the things you bought that I wear are mine too.” After I said that, Julian let out a sarcastic laugh. “Ha. Married for a few years, and you didn’t learn anything else, but you sure learned how to bite.” I didn’t want to waste my breath on him. I took a step to leave. But his lackey hadn’t received the command to let me go, so he still blocked the exit. Furious, I raised my hand and slapped the man hard across the face. The force of the slap was so strong that my own body trembled slightly. Startled, Julian stood up and finally gestured for the man to back off. When I got home, Leo thought Julian was back and quickly shut his computer in fear. But when he realized it was just me, he muttered a curse under his breath and went right back to playing his game. I didn’t nag him like I usually did. Instead, I went straight to the master bedroom. I started packing my everyday clothes into the suitcase. I also packed up all the gold jewelry Julian had given me. I packed until midnight. After making sure Leo was asleep, Julian finally came home. He was being supported by a couple of his friends. When I opened the door, Julian’s eyes were incredibly bloodshot. The man who had insulted me at the dinner table earlier said, “Clara, Julian was crying pretty hard just now.” “Don’t make jokes about divorce ever again.” I ignored him and didn’t offer to take over helping Julian. I just let them dump him onto the sofa. Once the man left, Julian seemed to sober up a bit. He wrapped his arms around my back and murmured, “Clara, come here and help me undress.” “Tonight, I’m going to make you cry, you disobedient little thing.” “Let’s see if you ever dare mention divorce again.” As he spoke, he started unbuttoning my top from behind. I slammed my elbow into him, pushing him away, and stood up straight. Seeing how drunk he was, I didn’t say much. He wouldn’t listen anyway. I went to sleep in the guest bedroom. The next morning, I made a simple breakfast. Once the Italian tutor arrived for Leo, I grabbed my suitcase and drove back to my mother’s house.

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At the kindergarten parent-child showcase, Sinclair abandoned his daughter Juliet, who was wearing a princess dress, and hurried away because of a phone call from his childhood friend. Juliet finished playing the piece alone onstage, and after she stepped down, she calmly threw the out-of-print piano score he had bought into the trash. “Mom, I won’t need Dad to listen to me play piano ever again.” Looking at the light that had gone completely out in Juliet’s eyes, I did not scream or make a scene, but packed our bags overnight and took Juliet away, disappearing from his world for good. Later, Sinclair searched the whole world for us like a madman. But when he finally found us, he saw Juliet riding on another man’s shoulders, sweetly calling him “Dad.” The backstage of the kindergarten auditorium was hot and noisy, and the air was filled with the excited chatter of children and the reminders of parents. Juliet wore the Snow White dress we had carefully picked out, her little hand clutching tightly at the corner of Sinclair’s suit jacket. She tilted up her small face, her eyes sparkling as she looked at the man beside her. “Dad, it’s almost our turn! Are you nervous? I was even practicing the sheet music in my dreams last night.” Sinclair gave an absentminded hum. His brows were slightly furrowed as he kept lowering his head to check his watch, and his gaze never really landed on Juliet at all. One minute before the host announced them, his phone rang abruptly. As soon as he answered, Margaret’s sharp, aggrieved crying pierced through the speaker, so clear that it could be heard even from half a meter away. “Sinclair, come quickly! Brooks was fighting over a toy with someone at the amusement park, and he got pushed down and hit his head!” “He’s crying so hard he can barely breathe, and he keeps saying he wants you, and I really don’t know what to do all by myself…” Sinclair’s face changed at once, and he suddenly pulled his hand back. He pulled away with too much force and flung Juliet aside. Juliet was caught off guard, stumbled, got her foot caught in her skirt, and nearly fell hard onto the floor. Sinclair did not even look at Juliet and threw out a perfunctory sentence. “Something happened to Brooks, so I have to go check on him, and you can play by yourself.” After saying that, he turned and rushed outside. “Dad!” Juliet anxiously reached out to grab his sleeve, and a sob entered her voice. “It’s almost our turn, and you promised you would be with me!” “Stop making trouble! Brooks doesn’t have a dad to protect him, so do you know how pitiful he is? Can’t you be a little more mature?” Sinclair impatiently brushed away Juliet’s hand, pushed open the backstage door without looking back, and disappeared at the end of the hallway. “Next, please welcome Juliet and her father, who will bring us a piano duet.” The host’s announcement came from the front of the stage. The curtain slowly opened, and the spotlight shone down. Juliet stood all alone in the center of the stage, while the piano bench beside her was empty. Whispers of confusion immediately rose from the parents below the stage. My chest tightened, and my eyes instantly reddened, and just as I was about to rush onto the stage and carry her down, Juliet bit her lip and climbed onto the piano bench by herself. The piece that should have been cheerful and smooth came out broken and uneven under her fingers, and she hit the wrong keys several times. Under the glaring light, her tiny shoulders trembled slightly, but she stubbornly refused to stop. When the song ended, scattered applause sounded from below the stage. Juliet walked off the stage. She did not cry, did not make a scene, and did not throw herself into my arms for comfort like she usually did when she felt wronged. She walked straight to the corner backstage and picked up the out-of-print piano score Sinclair had just given her yesterday. She had begged for it for more than half a month before Sinclair finally asked someone to buy it, and last night, she had hugged the score happily and been too excited to sleep. With a smack, she threw the score into the trash without hesitation. Juliet lifted her head, and in her bright black-and-white eyes, the admiration and hope she once had for her father had gone out completely. She looked at me, and her voice was so calm it was frightening. “Mom, I won’t need Dad to listen to me play piano ever again.” I crouched down and hugged her cold little body tightly. There were no hysterical questions, and not a single tear fell. I only pressed her hard into my arms and replied softly, “Okay.” At that moment, I clearly heard the sound of a string snapping in my heart. For six years, at every important moment of Juliet’s growth, Sinclair could always find an excuse to be absent. And those excuses were always Margaret and her son. I once thought that as long as I was tolerant enough, he would eventually settle down and return to our family. But now, looking at the light in Juliet’s eyes completely extinguished, I only felt utterly sick. It was time for this absurd farce to end completely.

At eleven thirty that night, the security door opened with a click. Sinclair came in while tugging at his tie. He put on an exhausted act, but the sharp smell of perfume on his collar could not be hidden at all. It was Margaret’s favorite scent. I sat in the unlit living room and watched him change his shoes coldly. “Why didn’t you turn on the lights? You scared me.” He muttered as he casually tossed a limited-edition souvenir bag from the amusement park onto the shoe cabinet. “Juliet waited for you onstage for a long time today,” I said, staring at him in an unusually calm voice. Sinclair paused, and his brows instantly knitted together. “Samuel, do you have to pick a fight in the middle of the night?” “I told you, Brooks got pushed down at the amusement park and hit his head, and Margaret was so scared she kept crying, so how could I ignore that?” “So you abandoned Juliet’s showcase?” “Didn’t Juliet have you with her?” Sinclair raised his voice and argued as if he were completely in the right. “She’s not going to lose a piece of flesh just because she missed one piano performance!” “What about Brooks? He doesn’t have a dad, and he’s already pitiful enough, so what’s wrong with making Juliet feel wronged once?” “Do you have to be so petty with a kid from a single-parent family?” Looking at the shameless man in front of me, I only found it absurd. This was the husband I had been married to for six years. For someone else’s son, he had not hesitated to leave Juliet onstage as a joke, and then he turned around and forced us to be generous about it. I did not speak and directly threw my phone onto the coffee table, sliding it to his hand. The screen was lit, showing the Ins post Margaret had made half an hour earlier. In the photo, Sinclair was holding Brooks with one arm, smiling with a face full of fatherly tenderness. Brooks was holding an oversized cotton candy, and his forehead was perfectly clean, without even a red mark, let alone a cut. Behind them were brilliant fireworks at the amusement park. The caption was painfully glaring: Even without a complete family, he still has the strongest arms to lean on. Sinclair lowered his head and saw the screen clearly, and his face froze. But he only felt guilty for one second before immediately turning shame into anger. “You checked up on me? Samuel, are you sick?” “Margaret only posted a feeling she had, and Brooks was crying too hard, so what’s wrong with me taking him to watch fireworks to comfort him?” “Do you have to make such a big deal out of it?” “Yes, I don’t have to.” I was too tired to listen to his bullshit, so I picked up my phone and got up to walk toward the master bedroom. In the master bedroom, Juliet was sleeping very uneasily. Her little face was tightly scrunched up, and there were still tear marks at the corners of her eyes. I pulled over a thin blanket and carefully picked her up. “What are you doing?” Sinclair followed me over, his face full of impatience. “Why are you disturbing the child in the middle of the night?” “Because you’re filthy.” I did not look back as I carried Juliet toward the guest room. “Samuel!” Sinclair shouted behind me in frustration and anger. “You are completely unreasonable! Fine, make a scene if you want! Let’s see how long you can stay mad!” With a bang, I kicked the guest room door shut and locked it behind me. From outside came the sound of Sinclair slamming the bathroom door. He probably thought I would be like before, sulking for a few days, shedding a few tears, and then continuing to swallow my anger for the sake of giving Juliet a complete family. But he did not know that when a woman even found arguing unnecessary, it meant she had completely given up. I placed Juliet on the bed and gently patted her back. Looking at Juliet’s sleeping face, I had never felt more clear-headed. I could not live like this anymore.

At two in the morning, a faint whimper came from the guest room. I jolted awake and scrambled out of bed. The moment I turned on the bedside lamp, my heart instantly clenched into a knot. Juliet was curled up under the covers like an injured kitten. Both of her hands were pressed tightly against the lower right side of her abdomen, and she was shaking all over from the pain. Cold sweat had long soaked through her pajamas, and her little face was so pale there was not a trace of color. “Mom… my stomach hurts so much…” In a panic, I fumbled for my phone and dialed Sinclair’s number with trembling hands. “Sorry, the number you have dialed is powered off.” The cold mechanical voice stabbed my eardrums. I refused to believe it and called seven or eight times in a row. Powered off, all of them were powered off! Just a few hours earlier, he had liked Margaret’s Ins post, and the location was a children’s theater in the neighboring city. Now, to accompany someone else’s son to a show, he found my calls annoying and simply turned off his phone! Juliet was in so much pain that she started dry heaving, and she did not even have the strength to cry anymore. I did not dare delay any longer, so I grabbed a thick coat and wrapped it around her, not even bothering to change out of my thin slippers before picking her up and rushing outside. The emergency hall late at night was lit by deathly white lights that made my head spin. “Doctor! Help her!” I rushed toward the triage desk with Juliet in my arms, and my voice was so hoarse it did not sound like my own. The ER doctor moved very quickly, and after pressing her abdomen a few times, he immediately made a judgment. “Suspected acute appendicitis, and the situation is urgent, so prepare for hospitalization and surgery immediately!” My head buzzed, and my legs went weak, almost making me collapse to my knees. “Family member, go pay the fees and complete the paperwork first, then come sign the surgical consent form, quickly!” the nurse urged loudly. I held Juliet tightly with one arm while my other hand frantically searched through my bag. My hands shook too badly, and I could not open the zipper no matter what I did. With a clatter, the bag fell to the ground, and cards scattered everywhere. There was still a long line at the payment window, and Juliet weakly gasped in my arms. Despair was like freezing seawater, drowning me from every direction. “Samuel?” A deep, steady voice suddenly sounded above my head. I lifted my tear-streaked face. Hernandez was wearing a black coat, his brows tightly furrowed as he strode quickly to me. There was no nonsense and no unnecessary small talk. He glanced at Juliet, whose face was ashen in my arms, and immediately crouched down, efficiently picking up the cards from the ground and tucking them into my hand. “Give me the child.” Hernandez’s tone was calm, carrying a force that left no room for doubt. He stretched out his strong arms and steadily took Juliet from me. His broad shoulders instantly blocked the bone-chilling draft in the hall. “Go sit on that chair over there and wait for me, and I’ll pay the fees.” Watching his back as he strode toward the window, my nerves, which had been stretched to the point of snapping, finally found a little room to breathe. Hernandez ran back and forth, and in less than ten minutes, all the procedures were completed. Outside the operating room, a nurse came out holding a form. “Family member, come sign.” I rushed forward and picked up the pen, but my hand shook so badly that I could not hold it, and the tip drew a messy ink mark across the paper. Hernandez came over, and his warm, broad hand lightly covered my wrist. “Don’t be afraid, I’m here. It’s a routine surgery, and Juliet will be fine.” His voice was low and firm. The warmth of his palm miraculously suppressed my panic. I took a deep breath, gritted my teeth, and signed my name. The red light outside the operating room came on. The moment the heavy doors slowly closed, the last breath I had been forcing myself to hold was instantly drained away. My legs went weak, and I slid down the cold wall to sit on the floor. In my line of sight, a cup of steaming hot tea appeared. Hernandez crouched in front of me and tucked the paper cup into my icy hands. “Drink some hot water.” He did not ask why I had brought my child to the emergency room alone in the middle of the night, and he did not ask where my husband had gone. He only stood quietly to the side, blocking the cold wind in the hallway for me. Through the warm paper cup, my tears silently fell onto the back of my hand. When I was at my most helpless and most desperate, while Juliet lay on the operating table and her life was uncertain, my husband had his phone off and was in the neighboring city with someone else’s child. And the person who gave me the last bit of support was actually a high school classmate I had not seen in years. At that moment, the ruins in my heart named Sinclair completely turned to ash. Sinclair, everything between us was over.

The next afternoon, Juliet’s fever finally went down, and she fell into a deep sleep. Hernandez had hired a caregiver in the morning and brought over hot porridge, and he had just returned to his company to handle an urgent matter. I tucked Juliet’s blanket in and carried the empty thermos into the hallway to get hot water. Just as I reached the corner, a sweet, delicate voice slipped into my ears. “Sinclair, Brooks’s cough still isn’t getting better, and I’m really afraid it will turn into pneumonia, because he’s been weak since he was little…” My steps halted. Not far away, at the entrance to the VIP pediatric clinic, Sinclair was carefully draping his coat over Brooks. Margaret held a medical record booklet and leaned against his side with red eyes. Sinclair’s eyes were filled with distress as he reached out and touched Brooks’s forehead. “Don’t be afraid, I’ve already booked the specialist appointment. With me here, nothing will happen to Brooks.” What a touching family of three. I stood beside the water dispenser and coldly watched this tragic little performance. Maybe my gaze was too sharp, because Sinclair turned his head and met my eyes. He froze at first and subconsciously let go of Brooks’s hand. But immediately after that, he frowned, strode toward me, and spoke with a tone full of defensiveness and interrogation. “Samuel? Why are you at the hospital? Are you following me?” I almost laughed from anger. “Sinclair, do you have some kind of persecution complex?” Only then did he notice the thermos in my hand and my bloodshot eyes. He froze for a moment, and his tone softened slightly. “Are you sick? Why didn’t you call me?” “It’s Juliet.” I looked at him coldly. “She had acute appendicitis last night and just had surgery.” Sinclair’s face changed abruptly. Margaret, who was standing not far away, heard this and immediately clicked over in her high heels, covering her mouth as she exclaimed. “Oh my, how did Juliet get so seriously ill?” “Samuel, honestly, why didn’t you tell Sinclair earlier?” “Look at how much misunderstanding this caused.” In just a few sentences, she placed all the blame on me. As expected, Sinclair took the way out she offered, felt that he had lost face, and immediately lost his temper at me. “Samuel! Juliet having surgery is such a big thing, so why did you hide it from me?” “Were you trying to make me look irresponsible on purpose?” Looking at his ugly face as he blamed me instead, I did not argue hysterically like I used to. I only stepped closer and stared hard into his eyes. “Tell you? I called you twenty times last night! To avoid me, you turned off your phone.” “Sinclair, when you were accompanying them to watch a children’s play, did you ever think about Juliet trembling in pain on the operating table?” Sinclair was exposed in public, and his face turned blue and white by turns. He stiffened his neck and argued in shame and anger. “My phone was dead!” “Besides, appendicitis isn’t some terminal illness, and once it’s removed, isn’t it fine?” “Do you need to yell in the hospital hallway? Didn’t you see Brooks still has a high fever?” In his eyes, Juliet having her abdomen cut open for surgery could not compare to someone else’s son having a little cold. Looking at the man in front of me, I suddenly felt that saying even one more word would be a waste of breath. “Yes, appendicitis isn’t a terminal illness.” I tugged at the corner of my mouth, and my voice was as cold as ice. “Your Brooks sneezing is the terminal illness that needs the whole city to come rescue him.” “Samuel, don’t talk in that sarcastic tone!” Sinclair was completely enraged, and he pulled Margaret and Brooks behind him to protect them. “I only missed your calls, and you have to keep holding on to it, don’t you?” “You’re completely unreasonable! Margaret, let’s go!” He turned around in a rage, without even the thought of asking which ward Juliet was in. Margaret looked back at me, and a hint of smug provocation flashed in her eyes before she held Brooks’s hand and followed him. I stood where I was and watched them disappear at the end of the hallway. The fire in my heart that had once been called hope had completely turned into dead ash. I filled the thermos with hot water, turned around, and walked back to the ward with firm steps.

On the third day after Juliet was discharged from the hospital, she held up her body, which had not fully recovered yet, and sat at her desk assembling a model airplane. It was the project she had prepared for half a month for the science and innovation contest, and even when she had been in the hospital, hurting so badly that she broke out in cold sweat, she had still been clutching the blueprints in her hand. “Mom, only the tail wing is left.” A faint smile finally appeared on her pale little face as she carefully held the plane. I was just about to praise her when the front door was shoved open with a bang. Sinclair swaggered in with Margaret and Brooks. Margaret carried a bag of discounted oranges, smiling so sweetly it felt fake. “Samuel, Sinclair insisted that Juliet was out of the hospital and dragged us over to see her.” I looked at them coldly and did not respond. But Brooks was like a wild dog off its leash, shaking off Margaret and rushing straight toward Juliet’s half-open bedroom door. “Big plane! I want to play!” His eyes lit up as he pounced and tried to snatch it by force. Juliet was so scared that she hid backward, shielding the model in her arms with all her strength. “No! This is for my competition!” “Give it to me! I want it!” Brooks reached out and started yanking. During the struggle, Brooks tripped over his own feet and fell onto his butt. He froze for one second, then immediately howled at the top of his lungs. “Mom! Uncle Sinclair! She hit me!” Sinclair heard the commotion and rushed into the room with a dark face. He did not ask what had happened at all, and he grabbed Juliet’s wrist and yanked her outward. “What are you doing!” I rushed over like a madwoman to protect Juliet. But it was still too late. Sinclair had already snatched the model airplane into his hands. He lowered his head and glanced at Brooks, who was throwing a tantrum and rolling on the floor, and to coax him, he gripped the body of the plane with both hands and snapped it hard without hesitation. With a crack, a piercing sound of breaking rang out. Juliet’s half-month of hard work and its precise structure were instantly broken into several pieces. “Don’t cry, Brooks, I’ll let you play with it.” Sinclair threw the wreckage into Brooks’s arms like he was throwing trash. Brooks instantly stopped crying, grabbed the broken wing, and smashed it wildly against the floor while letting out shrill laughter. I was so angry that my whole body trembled, and I pointed at the mess on the floor and roared. “Sinclair, are you sick? That was Juliet’s competition project that she has to submit tomorrow!” Sinclair patted his hands, his face full of impatience. “What’s the big deal? It’s just some broken plastic toy, so can’t she make another one?” “She has to submit it tomorrow! How do you expect her to make another one?” “That’s your problem!” His brows were tightly knitted, and he glared at me as if he were completely justified. “Brooks wanted to play with it, so what’s wrong with letting him play with it?” “He doesn’t have a dad and is already pitiful enough, so isn’t it only natural for Juliet to give in a little when she’s older?” “Is this how you usually teach your child to be selfish?” Looking at this self-righteous man in front of me, I only found it absurd beyond belief. I suddenly turned back to look at Juliet, afraid that after just having surgery, she would not be able to handle this kind of blow. But Juliet did not cry. She did not shed a single tear, and she did not even argue loudly. She only stood there quietly, staring at the crushed parts on the floor, her eyes as hollow as a dry well. Then she walked around Sinclair, went to the corner, and picked up the broom. “Juliet…” My throat tightened. Without saying a word, she lowered her head, swept the fragments little by little into the dustpan, then walked to the trash can and dumped them all inside. After doing all this, she lifted her head and swept her gaze over Sinclair as if she were looking at a dead object, her childish voice cold enough to pierce bone. “Mom, it’s okay. Trash belongs in the trash can anyway.” Sinclair froze after being stabbed by that look, and he opened his mouth to curse, but the words got stuck in his throat. Looking at Juliet’s thin yet determined back, the string in my heart that had been pulled tight for six years finally snapped completely. Together with this rotten marriage, it was swept into the trash can. I did not want to endure this for even one more second. I was going to take my Juliet and leave this disgusting place.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “431753”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

For the sake of the story, I lived as a shadow designer for ten years to build Raphael’s jewelry empire. But when my father suffered a massive heart attack and desperately needed a transfer, Raphael diverted our private medevac chopper just to find his first love’s lost Ragdoll cat. Looking at his mistress’s Instagram post that read, “Even if the world ends, you’ll always find my cat,” something inside me snapped. Ten years of devotion, gone. I was done. I would take my share of the wealth, tear his company down to the roots, and let that toxic couple rot in hell together. The smell of bleach in the ER hallway was suffocating. “Miss Windsor, your father’s heart attack is severe. This local hospital doesn’t have the equipment to save him.” The doctor pushed the double doors open, speaking rapidly. “Where is the medevac helicopter? If he doesn’t get transferred in the next fifteen minutes, his heart will fail!” My knuckles turned white as I clutched my phone. Half an hour ago, my husband, Raphael, had promised me on the phone that he would dispatch the R-H private medical chopper immediately. He swore it would land in fifteen minutes. It had been forty minutes. I dialed Raphael’s number again. No answer. Biting my lip, I called his executive assistant. It rang for a long time before he finally picked up. “Where is the chopper?” I demanded, my voice shaking. The assistant hesitated. “Ma’am… Mr. Raphael… he diverted the chopper to the Westside estate.” I froze. “The Westside estate? Why? My father is dying!” “Miss Hailey’s Ragdoll cat ran into the forest behind her villa.” The assistant sounded guilty. “Mr. Raphael said there are wild coyotes in the hills. He insisted the cat was in danger and ordered the chopper to use its thermal imaging cameras to search for it.” A loud buzzing echoed in my ears. A human life was on the line. My father was fighting for his life in the ER, and Raphael had hijacked a life-saving medical chopper to search for a mistress’s cat. I slammed the phone down and opened Instagram. The very first post on my feed was Hailey’s, posted ten minutes ago. In the photo, the R-H Medevac chopper was parked on her villa’s lawn. The searchlights made the grass look as bright as day. Raphael’s back was to the camera, cradling a fluffy Ragdoll cat in his arms. The caption was sickeningly sweet: “Even if my world turns upside down, you’ll always find my cat. Thank you, my superhero.” I stared at the screen, feeling utterly hollow. For ten years, I worked behind the scenes, sketching designs until dawn, building Raphael’s name from nothing into a global jewelry giant. I thought we were a team. I thought we loved each other. But in the end, my father’s life didn’t even weigh as much as a cat to him. The red light above the ER door flashed ominously. I took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling. My eyes burned, but I didn’t shed a single tear. Crying over a scumbag was a waste of tears. The pain and betrayal burned away, leaving nothing but absolute, icy clarity. I walked over to the hallway window and called my best friend, Sophia, who also happened to be the city’s most ruthless divorce lawyer. “Hey, Windsor! What’s up?” “I want a divorce,” I said, my voice cold as ice. “Draft the papers.” Sophia went silent for two seconds. “What did Raphael do?” “He diverted my dad’s emergency medical chopper to find Hailey’s cat.” I heard a loud slam on the other end of the line. “That absolute piece of trash!” Sophia cursed. “He’s a monster! Stay there, I’m coming to the hospital right now.” “No, don’t come here. Start working on the assets,” I said, staring out at the dark city skyline. “I want everything that belongs to me. I want his money, and I want to tear his company down to the ground.” “Good!” Sophia laughed coldly. “I’ve been waiting to hear you say that. I’ll freeze his accounts and dig up his secrets. I’ll make sure he ends up broke.” I hung up and walked back to the ER doors. “Doctor!” I called out to the nurse. “The chopper isn’t coming.” “Call the best private ambulance immediately. Use whatever life-support medications we need. I don’t care about the cost—just get my father to the city hospital safely!”

In the VIP ward of the city hospital, the machines beeped steadily. After a grueling night of emergency surgery, my father, Charles, was finally out of danger. Once my mother was settled in the visitor’s chair, I took a cab back to our estate in the hills. I unlocked the front door. The house felt like a tomb. Raphael’s designer tie clip was tossed carelessly on the coffee table. I didn’t even look at it. I walked straight up to the second-floor study. Just as I reached the door, my phone vibrated. It was Raphael. I answered and put it on speaker. “Are you done throwing your tantrum?” Raphael’s voice was dripping with irritation. “My assistant told me you canceled the chopper dispatch? Windsor, when did you become so incredibly petty?” I pushed the study door open, keeping silent. Raphael took my silence as an invitation to keep shouting. “Hailey is just a sensitive girl! She was crying so hard she couldn’t breathe when her cat went missing! Your dad is fine, isn’t he? Did you really have to start a fight over this?” He paused, then sneered. “Sophia just sent me divorce papers. Windsor, is this your new trick to get my attention?” He let out a harsh laugh. “It won’t work. I’ve already frozen your credit cards. Grow up, and don’t make me lose my temper.” I walked over to the desk and pulled open the bottom drawer. “Are you finished?” I asked, my voice flat. Raphael gasped slightly, caught off guard. “Raphael,” I said slowly, “keep your little mistress close. And tell your lawyers to get ready.” I hung up and blocked his number. No yelling, no crying. He didn’t deserve a single drop of my energy. I knelt down, entered the code to the safe, and yanked it open. Dozens of thick, leather-bound sketchbooks were stacked neatly inside. Every single best-selling collection R-H Jewelry had launched in the last decade came from these pages. Raphael was the public face, the “genius designer,” while I was the ghost who did all the work in this dark room. I dragged a large suitcase over and dumped every sketchbook inside. I left nothing. Then, I sat at the computer, logged into the encrypted drive, and pulled up our files. The entire product pipeline for the next three years—hundreds of original, unreleased designs—was saved here. I selected all files. Permanent delete. The progress bar ran to 100%. To make sure there was no way to recover them, I ran a hard drive shredder program and wiped the cloud backup. The screen went blank. I smiled. Raphael thought he was a business genius. Hailey claimed she was a prodigy. Let’s see how far they get without my designs to carry them. I walked into the master bedroom. I left the designer bags and diamond jewelry behind. I only took my passport, ID, and a few change of clothes. Ten minutes later, I stood at the front door with my suitcase. I took off my brass house key—the symbol of being “Mrs. Raphael”—and tossed it into the trash can. I walked out the door and never looked back. To hell with being his wife. From now on, I was just Windsor. And I was going to play by my own rules.

At my new independent studio downtown, the front door was suddenly kicked open. Beatrice, Raphael’s mother, strutted in with her maid. She was draped in gaudy designer logos, heavy gold chains, and chunky diamond rings that practically screamed “nouveau riche.” Her face was twisted in a sneer. “Windsor! You actually had the nerve to move out?” Beatrice pointed a manicured finger at my face. I sat at my desk and didn’t even look up. Seeing me ignore her made her even angrier. She sat on my velvet couch and gestured to her maid to start throwing things. “Raphael freezing your cards was a warning! You’re a barren woman who couldn’t even give our family an heir in three years of marriage!” “And now you think you can threaten us with a divorce?” The maid snickered in agreement. Beatrice’s insults got worse. “Hailey is ten times the woman you are! She’s young, gorgeous, and a true design prodigy!” “When she marries my son, she’ll give me a grandson in no time.” “You need to crawl back to Raphael and beg for his forgiveness right now, or you won’t get a single dime in the divorce!” I picked up the half-full cup of iced Americano from my desk and stood up. Splash. The cold, dark coffee hit Beatrice square in her face. Ice cubes bounced off her forehead. The brown liquid dripped down her expensive silk scarf, staining her clothes. The room went dead silent. “Ah!” Beatrice shrieked, wiping her face in shock. “You bitch! How dare you throw coffee at me?” “Who do you think you are, barking in my office?” I asked, pointing to the door. “Get out in three seconds, or I’m calling the police for breaking and entering.” Beatrice trembled with rage and raised her hand to slap me. But before her hand could land, a firm grip caught her wrist. Sophia stood there, her high heels clicking on the floor, her eyes fierce. “Want to add physical assault to your charges? I’ve been looking for a good lawsuit lately,” Sophia said, shoving Beatrice’s hand away. She turned to the hallway and shouted, “Security! Get these two intruders out of here!” Two building security guards rushed in and dragged Beatrice and her maid out of the office. Beatrice’s screams faded down the hallway. Sophia clapped her hands clean and locked the door. She walked over and slammed a thick folder onto my desk. “They really have some nerve. But don’t worry, I found what Raphael has been hiding.” Sophia sat down, her face serious. I grabbed a wet wipe and cleaned my hands. “What did you find?” Sophia opened the folder. “Your dear husband has been treating you like an idiot.” “Over the past three years, he used shell companies to funnel most of your marital funds into offshore accounts.” She pointed to a copy of a share transfer agreement. “And look at this. He secretly transferred 15% of R-H Jewelry’s core shares to Hailey.” I stared at Hailey’s name on the document. I didn’t feel angry. I just felt cold. Raphael had been using my talent to build his wealth, while using that very wealth to spoil his mistress. It was a beautiful little trap. “If we sue for divorce now, it will be hard to get those assets back quickly,” Sophia said, frowning. “He hid the paper trail well. We don’t have the internal financial records.” “A standard lawsuit could drag on for years.” I closed the folder. “We don’t need to rush,” I said, walking to the floor-to-ceiling window to look at the city. “R-H Jewelry is only successful because of the designs I kept in that safe.” I turned back, my eyes sharp. “If he thinks Hailey is a genius, let’s give her the stage.” “I want to watch their little empire crumble to dust.” Sophia’s eyes lit up. “Are you making a comeback?” “Yes.” I walked to my computer and opened a webpage. “The International Jewelry Design Gala next month will be my first gift to them.” On the screen was my registration confirmation as an independent designer. It was time to take back what was mine.

The news of my comeback hit the jewelry industry like a bomb. I posted an update on my new Instagram account: “Independent Designer Windsor. See you at the International Jewelry Design Gala next month.” The post included a sketch of a stunning, unfinished jewelry design. Within thirty minutes, the media went wild. The “secret genius” of R-H was finally stepping into the spotlight. Meanwhile, in the CEO office at R-H Jewelry, the atmosphere was tense. Raphael stared at his phone, his face pale with anger. He slammed the device onto his desk. How dare she challenge him so openly! Participating in the Gala? She was dreaming. He picked up the office phone and spoke coldly. “Tell all our suppliers and manufacturers. Anyone who helps Windsor gets blacklisted by R-C.” He wanted to see how she would compete without any resources. The door opened, and Hailey walked in, holding a cup of coffee. Her eyes were red. “Raphael, is Windsor still mad at me? Everyone online is talking about her…” Raphael’s expression softened, and he pulled her into his arms. “Don’t worry about her. She’s been sitting at home for too long and doesn’t know how the real world works.” “I’m giving you all our best resources for this Gala. You’re our star. Just show them your work, and the industry will fall at your feet.” Hailey nodded sweetly, but when Raphael looked away, panic filled her eyes. Her own work? She didn’t have any! For years, her “genius” reputation was built entirely on stealing Windsor’s old sketches. Now that Windsor had wiped the company drive, she couldn’t even draw a basic line. The competition was in a few weeks. She couldn’t afford to be exposed. Late that night, in the empty R-H design department, Hailey slipped into my old workspace and searched through the drawers. Finally, in the deepest corner of a locked cabinet, she found an old, dusty envelope. She tried Raphael’s birthday as the passcode. It clicked open. Inside was a beautiful sketch of a necklace. The lines were bold, modern, and perfect for the Gala’s theme. Hailey smiled greedily and quickly took pictures with her phone. The next afternoon, Hailey updated her Instagram: “Midnight inspiration. Can’t wait to show you my new piece, ‘First Love’.” She posted a blurred 3D model of the design alongside a cute selfie. The comments were flooded with praise from her fans and PR bots. In my downtown studio, Sophia slammed her tablet onto my desk, laughing mockingly. “Look at this! Raphael is trying to blacklist you, while Hailey is posting another stolen design.” I glanced at the screen, and my eyes narrowed. Then, I leaned back in my chair and let out a cold laugh. “Do you recognize it?” Sophia asked quickly. “Oh, I do,” I said, tapping the desk. “It’s a discarded draft of mine from five years ago.” Back then, I wanted to try combining carbon fiber with diamond settings. But after testing it, I realized the structure was highly unstable at room temperature. It would break easily. To prevent anyone else from making the same mistake, I had filed a hidden patent for the failed design and thrown the sketch in the trash. I didn’t expect Hailey to be so desperate that she’d dig through my garbage. “Let her make it,” I said, taking a sip of my coffee. “The higher she climbs, the harder she’ll fall.” I couldn’t wait to see her face when it fell apart on stage.

At a private shooting range on the outskirts of the city, the sound of gunshots echoed through the air. Bang! Bang! Bang! Damian took off his safety glasses and tossed his gun onto the metal table. Dressed in all black, he looked intimidating, his eyes sharper than a bullet. As the heir to one of New York’s most powerful families, he was known for being ruthless. Years ago, Hailey had faked a pregnancy to trap him into marriage, only to claim she “miscarried” later. Damian had tolerated her, treating her like a gold-digging trophy wife. But he didn’t expect her to embarrass him by sleeping with another man. The guards opened the door, letting Sophia and me in before stepping out. Standing before this powerful billionaire, I didn’t waste any time. I slid a tablet across the table. “Mr. Damian, you might want to look at your wife’s latest activities.” Damian glanced at me, then swiped the screen. The images were crystal clear. It was Hailey and Raphael caught in an intimate embrace by a hotel window. Further down were security videos of them entering and leaving a private villa, along with financial records of large offshore transfers. Damian stared at the screen, his jaw clenching. Then, he let out a cold, dark laugh. “She told me she was working late at the studio. I didn’t realize her studio was another man’s bed.” He lit a cigarette, the flame reflecting the anger in his eyes. He looked up at me. “I assume you didn’t dig all this up just to do me a favor, Miss Windsor?” I met his gaze, refusing to be intimidated. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.” I sat down. “Raphael has been transferring his company’s shares and cash to Hailey’s name. I want to destroy Raphael, and you need to clean up your own house. We want the same thing.” Damian blew out a ring of smoke, studying me. “What’s the plan?” “The International Jewelry Design Gala next week,” I said, tapping the table. “I will expose Hailey in front of the entire industry.” “But I need you to freeze Raphael’s offshore funds. Cut off his escape route.” Sophia handed over a financial report. “We know your influence in the financial sector, Mr. Damian. If you can freeze those accounts for just three days, Raphael’s cash flow will collapse.” “Once the scandal breaks, R-C’s stock will crash.” Damian glanced at the report and smiled coldly, crushing his cigarette. “Three days is too short. If we’re going to play, let’s play dirty. I’ll make sure he never sees that money again.” He stood up, leaning over the table. “I’ll handle the media and PR for the Gala.” “I want the highest-definition live stream. I want to make sure everyone sees their downfall, and no one can save them.” I stood up and held out my hand. “Deal.” We shook hands—cold, firm, and decisive. Two betrayed people, forming a deadly alliance. The trap was set, and the hunt was about to begin.

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I rushed to the ER the second I got the page—a victim of a brutal assault with severe, life-threatening vaginal tearing. Without a second thought, I immediately prepped her and began the emergency pelvic exam. But my wife, Chloe, who was also the head nurse, snapped. Right in front of the traumatized patient’s family, she flew into a hysterical rage. “Are there no female doctors in the OB-GYN department? Why does a man have to perform this exam?” “And right in front of your own wife, too! Have you no shame, Logan?” In an instant, her words lit a wildfire. The internet erupted, and I became the most hated predator in the city. The hospital board, buckling under the PR nightmare, suspended my medical license and threatened to withhold my pay. In a fit of cold fury, I packed my locker and walked out. Let them. Without me, there wasn’t a single surgeon in this city who could sew that patient back together. “Logan Carter, you’re trending nationwide! Crazy keyboard warriors are driving miles just to throw rotten eggs at our lobby. They’re threatening to shut us down if we don’t make an example out of you!” Director Richard Vance slammed his hands on his mahogany desk, his face purple with rage as he barked at me. Outside, protesters were already lining the streets with picket signs. Online, a hate thread targeting me on Instagram had reached millions of views. I stood my ground, my voice calm but firm. “Director Vance, I followed standard emergency protocols to the letter. As an OB-GYN specialist, when a patient presents with severe active hemorrhaging in the pelvic area, my first and only duty is to examine the wound and stop the bleeding—” Chloe pushed the door open, cutting me off without a shred of respect. “Director Vance, the mob is blocking the ambulance bay. You need to sign his termination papers right now.” She shot me a glance filled with utter disgust. “Being married to a creep like you is the biggest mistake of my life. You make my skin crawl.” Her words felt like a knife twisting in my chest. I had done my duty to save a life. It was her loud, malicious accusations in front of the crowd that had branded me a monster. She had single-handedly destroyed my reputation as a doctor. Chloe slid a blank resignation agreement onto the desk, her tone dripping with self-righteous poison. “Director Vance, under the circumstances, I suggest we fire Logan immediately. He should also be fined three thousand dollars a month from his pension as a penalty.” “If you agree, I’ll post the official announcement on the hospital bulletin board right now.” Director Vance glanced at the paper and gave me a sharp nod, signaling me to sign. Chloe shoved the pen into my hand, mocking me. “For the sake of our past marriage, and so you don’t end up begging on the streets, I’ve pulled some strings. I got you a position as an unregistered orderly.” She threw a low-level staff application at my feet. “Consider yourself lucky.” Without waiting for me to respond, she ordered the security guards to clear my desk. All my personal belongings, including the assault victim’s charts, were tossed onto the hallway floor. I knelt and picked up the patient’s file, which had been scuffed by several footprints. Looking straight at Chloe, I said flatly, “No one else in this city can perform this reconstruction surgery. I hope you can handle the consequences. Don’t come crawling back to beg me.” When I had examined the patient earlier, I noticed her internal lacerations were highly abnormal. She was suffering from deep arterial hemorrhaging and severe localized swelling. Standard suture methods would fail and cause permanent tissue necrosis. Only I had mastered the newly developed dual-tension micro-suture technique required to save her. But before I could even explain this to the director, loud footsteps and excited chatter echoed from the corridor. Chloe’s cold face instantly melted into a beaming smile. She practically ran down the hallway to greet the man walking in. “Julian! You’re finally here! Director Vance has been waiting for you.” Seeing his face, I felt like I had been struck by lightning. In that single second, everything clicked. I finally understood why Chloe, my own wife, had publically humiliated me and branded me a predator. Julian Sterling. He looked at me, a smirk playing on his lips. “Logan, old friend. Long time no see. Thanks for taking such good care of my Chloe while I was away.” “But now that I’m back from my fellowship in Europe, it’s time for you to hand back what’s mine—including Chloe, and your title as the clinic’s top surgeon.” Julian Sterling was Chloe’s “one that got away”—her first love. For the years we were married, his name had been a forbidden shadow over our relationship. I had foolishly believed she had moved on. But not only had she kept him in her heart, she had been plotting to ruin me just to clear a path for him. Director Vance immediately organized a grand welcome in the main lobby. “Dr. Sterling is a brilliant mind with a master’s degree from a prestigious European university and ten years of OB-GYN experience. With him leading the department, our hospital’s reputation will be restored.” “Unlike Logan, who got a little lucky with some basic surgery and let it go to his head, dragging our entire hospital into a PR disaster.” Chloe clung to Julian’s arm, her smile radiant. “Director Vance, Julian is a true gentleman. He would never do anything as shameless and unprofessional as what Logan did.”

The way they flaunted their intimacy, anyone would have thought they were the married couple. Meanwhile, as her legal husband, I had been stripped of my medical privileges, demoted to a janitorial orderly, and was currently sweeping the floors of the main conference room. Julian walked up to me, a smug grin plastered on his face. He threw a patient’s chart directly at my chest. “Take me to the patient, orderly. Let me show you how a real, world-class specialist diagnoses a case.” His sheer arrogance made me want to throw up. But with Chloe glaring at me threateningly, I clenched my fists and led the way. “Fine. Let’s see what a genius can do.” Inside the VIP ward, Julian barely looked at the patient. He listened to her describe her symptoms for less than two minutes before confidently scribbling down a treatment plan and a heavy prescription. Behind him, several junior resident doctors and I exchanged incredulous looks. When Chloe started showering him with praise, my apprentice, Leo, couldn’t take it anymore. “Head Nurse Chloe, are you blind? Dr. Sterling is completely making things up! No real doctor prescribes a heavy hormonal treatment for severe trauma without performing a physical examination first!” “Besides, Dr. Carter already noted that this patient’s lacerations are highly irregular—” Chloe cut him off, her eyes narrowing. “Julian has a master’s degree from a top-tier European medical school. What does Logan have? A degree from a mediocre state college.” “If Director Vance and I hadn’t protected him, Logan’s resume wouldn’t have even gotten him past our HR department.” It was true. My academic credentials weren’t as flashy as Julian’s. But I had been in the trenches of the ER doing real surgeries since the day I graduated. I knew for a fact that my hands-on clinical experience was worth ten of his master’s degrees. I let out a cold laugh. “A fancy degree doesn’t make up for a lack of common sense. I don’t know what kind of ‘experience’ you got in Europe, Julian, but this diagnosis proves you’re nothing but an empty suit.” Turning to Chloe, I added, “Chloe, if you want to put your faith in this fraud, fine. Let’s get a divorce.” Over the years, the thought of divorce had crossed my mind, but I had always held on because I respected her dedication to her job. I had been blind. I had spent years loving a snake. As a head nurse, she knew better than anyone how dangerous it was to prescribe medication based solely on a patient’s self-report. Yet, she chose to risk a patient’s life just to boost Julian’s ego. Chloe’s face turned icy. “Are you threatening me, Logan? Who gave you the confidence to think I’d care if you divorced me?” Julian sneered, “Look at him. The incompetent doctor gets demoted, so he resorts to threatening his wife with domestic drama. How insecure can you get, Logan?” “If you think my prescription is wrong, why don’t we let Director Vance decide?” Chloe didn’t say a word to defend me. She just stared at me with that same cold, disgusted look. To her, I was just a bitter, jealous loser trying to slander her perfect white moonlight. I smiled bitterly. The last shred of affection I had for this woman vanished. “I mean it, Chloe. Support him, and we are done.” “Fine by me! I have Julian now. I don’t need you!” Chloe was so busy helping Julian establish his position in the hospital that she worked day and night. When I handed her the printed divorce papers, she signed them without even reading the terms. Once the divorce was finalized, I submitted my formal resignation. As I walked toward the director’s office to hand in my badge, I ran into the family of another emergency patient. They were frantically demanding updates from Director Vance. Hearing the symptoms, I realized this new patient had the exact same severe lacerations as the first one. Out of sheer professional instinct, I stepped in. “Director Vance, standard suturing won’t work on her. We need to use the dual-tension method—” Before I could finish, Julian rudely shoved me out of the way. “Move it, orderly! Patient privacy is none of your business.” Turning to the worried family, Julian pointed at me. “Don’t listen to him. This is the creep the internet was talking about. He was demoted to janitor for inappropriate conduct with a female patient.”

At Julian’s words, the family’s faces instantly twisted into expressions of pure disgust. “You’re that sick bastard!” the father roared, stepping forward. “And you have the nerve to stand here telling us you want to examine my daughter with some ‘new technique’?” “You just want an excuse to touch her, you sick pervert!” “How disgusting! My daughter has already been through a horrific assault, and now she has to deal with a predator doctor trying to take advantage of her!” Julian stood tall, puffing out his chest. “Don’t worry, sir. Your daughter’s surgery is safe in my hands. I personally guarantee her privacy and the highest standard of care.” Hearing those venomous words from the family, a profound coldness settled in my heart. For the first time in my life, I questioned why I had ever dedicated myself to saving lives. Whatever. I was leaving anyway. Why should I care? I turned to walk away, but Chloe intercepted me at the end of the hall. “Logan! Julian is about to start the surgery. Why haven’t you sterilized the operating room yet? What are you doing slacking off?” “As an orderly, that is your job.” Julian smirked, spreading his arms wide. “Oh, since you’re here, Logan, do me a favor and help me into my sterile gown.” “And make sure the surgical tray is perfectly organized. You used to be a doctor, so I assume you know which instruments I need without me having to hold your hand?” My veins burned with fury. “No problem. Let me help you with that gown.” I grabbed the sterile gown, threw it over his head to blind him, and delivered two brutal punches straight to his ribs. Before he could recover, I landed a heavy kick to his groin. “Logan! Stop it!” Chloe lunged at me from behind, locking her arms around my neck, choking me. “How dare you lay a hand on Julian! Do you want to die?!” I froze. Chloe was actually physically attacking me for Julian. As the head nurse, she was famous for her calm demeanor and polite customer service. She had never raised her voice, let alone her hands, at anyone. Years ago, when a furious patient’s family had assaulted me in the hallway, Chloe had only stood by, calmly explaining the situation to them. “The fetus had already passed away in the womb,” she had told them politely. “Dr. Carter only performed the procedure to save your wife. He didn’t hurt the baby.” She hadn’t fought for me then. But now, she was trying to strangle me to protect Julian. Fearing she might actually cut off my airway, I wrenched myself free, grabbed Julian, and roughly forced him into his surgical gown. Julian shot me a venomous look. The moment my hands were occupied adjusting his sleeves, he slapped me hard across the face. The slap echoed through the hallway. My cheek burned, swelling rapidly. Chloe stood by, watching with cold indifference. “You deserved that,” she sneered. “Don’t ever think you’re on Julian’s level.” To show off his skills, Julian insisted on broadcasting his surgery live to the department’s lecture room. All staff, including me, were ordered to watch. Anyone with basic medical knowledge could see the tissue damage required specialized, delicate care. Yet, Julian proceeded with standard, aggressive suturing. Beside me, my apprentice Leo whispered, “Dr. Carter, look at that tension. That doesn’t look right for a deep pelvic tear…” I nodded silently, but instead of replying, I stood up and walked toward the director’s office. “It’s completely wrong. But it’s no longer my problem.” The day Director Vance signed off on my official exit paperwork, Julian strutted into the office, showing off a brand-new iPhone 15 Pro Max. “Logan, you really were a terrible doctor. You made such a fuss over a simple suture, and it took me less than an hour to fix it.” “Turns out yesterday’s patient is the daughter of a major real estate mogul in the city. Her father wanted to thank me personally. Chloe recommended me for the case, and they just gifted me this new phone as a token of appreciation.” Chloe leaned her head against Julian’s shoulder, looking at me with pure disdain. “If Logan had performed that surgery, our hospital would probably be burned to the ground by a mob by now.” “He’s nothing but a shameless loser.” I stared at them for a second, a sudden realization hitting me. So, the family who had screamed at me was the family of the city’s most powerful developer. Well, what a pity. Since Julian did the surgery, they’d be back in the ER sooner than they thought. I hoisted my duffel bag onto my shoulder. “Congratulations to you both, then.” As I walked out of the main lobby, a group of high-ranking doctors from the State General Hospital brushed past me. At the front of the group was a stern-looking senior expert, speaking sharply to Director Vance, who had rushed down to greet them. “This is the third victim of this serial assault case. The Medical Board, the Governor’s office, and the Police Department are all watching this. Where is Dr. Logan Carter? Chief Detective Andrews needs his forensic assessment immediately.” But I didn’t stop. I walked straight past them and climbed into a cab waiting to take me to the airport. I was done with this place.

The moment I landed in Hawaii, I turned off my brain and slept for two full days. I completely wiped the hospital, the betrayal, and the stress from my mind. It was as if I had never worked a day in my life. A week later, I finally powered on my phone. The screen instantly froze under a tidal wave of missed calls and notifications. Chloe had sent dozens of frantic voice messages on Snapchat. “Logan! Where the hell are you? Get back to the hospital in five minutes!” Then came a message from Director Vance. He sounded desperate. He said the real estate mogul’s daughter was in critical condition. Julian’s surgery had failed, and the family was demanding that I, and only I, perform the revision surgery. He promised that if I saved her, they would completely clear my name and restore my license. Listening to the audio files, I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. I had warned them. I had practically begged them to listen. And now that the patient was dying, they suddenly remembered my name? I ignored the messages, tossed my phone onto my beach towel, and laid back to enjoy the Hawaiian sun. But paradise had its flaws. The beach was notorious for pickpockets. As I was dozing off under an umbrella, I felt a sudden tug on my backpack. I opened my eyes to see a teenager running away with my bag. Instinct kicked in. I sprinted after him, took him down with a clean sweep, pinned him to the sand, and dragged him straight to the local precinct. While the deputy was taking my statement, the station’s radio went off. It was a frantic emergency call. A heavily pregnant woman in a remote cabin was in active labor. The nearest ambulance was at least an hour away, and she was alone and terrified. The deputies were panicking. They weren’t trained for high-risk deliveries. Out of sheer medical instinct, I pulled out my digital board certification from my phone. “I’m an OB-GYN surgeon. I can help.” After verifying my credentials, the deputy practically threw me into the patrol car. Over my career, I had delivered babies in every extreme condition imaginable. This was nothing. Forty minutes later, a healthy baby boy let out his first cry. By the time the paramedics arrived, the mother was stable, and the baby was clean. The lead paramedic looked at me like I was a god. “Dr. Carter, that was incredible work. We are severely understaffed here. Would you consider joining our medical center? We can offer you a premium contract.” I smiled and politely declined. “Thank you, but I’m taking a break from medicine. However, if there’s an emergency while I’m in town, feel free to call.” Though I declined a full-time role, the clinic director was incredibly grateful. He even personally paid for a luxury condo rental for me, hoping I’d stay on the island a bit longer to consult on difficult cases. I was living the dream, completely forgetting about the toxic mess back home. Until Chloe tracked me down. She sent me a furious FaceTime request, her face twisted in rage when I answered. “Logan Carter! Who do you think you are? Ignoring my calls and texts!” “The entire hospital is turning upside down looking for you!” “We tracked your IP address to Hawaii. Get your ass on a plane back to Austin right now! The State Board experts are waiting for you!” I had turned off my GPS before boarding, but I had made the mistake of posting a beach photo on Instagram without blocking her. Director Vance’s call came through immediately after. He sounded like he was on the verge of tears, begging to know when I was coming back. It was obvious. The Medical Board and the Police Department were putting immense pressure on them. This wasn’t just a botched surgery anymore; it was a high-profile criminal case. If the patient suffered permanent damage because of the hospital’s incompetence, it would be a massive civil lawsuit and criminal negligence. “Logan! Get back here!” Chloe’s shrill voice screamed through the speaker. I pulled the phone away from my ear and replied coolly, “First of all, Chloe, we are divorced, and I don’t work for you. I don’t have to do a damn thing you say. Second, I resigned. Why would I fly back to work for free?” “And lastly, is this how you beg someone for help? Where are your manners?” Chloe gasped, momentarily speechless, before she erupted into more venomous insults. “Logan, do you really think this hospital can’t function without you?” “Beg you? In your dreams! Go to hell! I hope you drown in Hawaii!”

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For six years, Ethan Hayes kept me a secret. Today marked the eighteenth time he bailed on our wedding shoot. His excuse? Another “emergency board meeting.” I scrubbed off my flawless makeup. Stepped out of the expensive Vera Wang gown. As I was halfway out the door, a familiar voice caught my attention. It was Ethan! “Bring out your exclusive collection. Only the best for my fiancée.” My heart soared. Who knew this workaholic could be so romantic? I yanked the curtain open, his name on my lips. But the manager’s flattering voice beat me to it: “Trust me, Mr. Hayes, she looks breathtaking. Hands down the most stunning bride in the city.” The smile froze on my face. The manager wasn’t talking about me. He was praising the woman wrapped in Ethan’s arms. Chloe. The manager’s eyes caught mine, then darted away. He stepped in my path, shifting uncomfortably. “Ma’am… since your partner couldn’t make it today, would you like to reschedule?” I shook my head. “Don’t bother.” He looked conflicted. “Just a reminder that the deposit is non-refundable. If next week is too soon, we can always push it to next month.” “No need,” I replied calmly. “He died in an accident today. His schedule is permanently cleared.” …… All the color drained from his face. “O-Oh my god… I am so sorry. Ma’am, given the circumstances, I’ll call corporate right now and make an exception to refund your—” I shook my head again. A pain like a thousand needles pierced my chest. Our relationship was a secret. No engagement party. No public announcements. Not even his closest friends knew I existed. That’s why I clung so desperately to this shoot. It was the only proof that our love was real. Six years. Eighteen broken promises. And now, here he was. Fulfilling my dream with someone else. Mistaking my silence for grief, the manager reached out to steady me. “Ma’am… are you alright?”

My voice was hoarse. “I’m fine. Keep the deposit.” With that, I walked straight toward Ethan. He took a step back, eyes darting away. A bitter smirk tugged at my lips. I brushed past him and walked right out the door. That night, he came home with a bouquet of red roses. A rare sight. He forced an apologetic smile. “Ella… thank you for keeping your cool today. You know how fragile Chloe is. If you’d made a scene, she would’ve shattered.” He paused, then threw me a bone: “Haven’t you always wanted to go to Santorini? Once things settle down at work, I’ll take you there.” A tear slipped down my cheek. This was supposed to be my dream: the flowers, the trip, the man I loved. Turns out, it was that easy. Any other day, I would have cried and thrown myself into his arms. I didn’t answer. I just asked him coldly, “Why her?” Chloe. My stepsister. Together, she and her mother drove my mom to her grave. She was the person I hated most in this world. And Ethan knew that better than anyone. He could have cheated on me with anyone. But he chose her. It was the ultimate stab in the back. Tears spilled over. My voice broke. “You know I’d rather see her dead. What did I ever do to you, Ethan? Why does it have to be her?”

Ethan’s patience finally snapped. “Ella, that’s ancient history! You can’t blame Chloe for your mother’s death. She was just a kid.” “If anyone’s to blame, it’s your mother. She just couldn’t handle it. Giving up was her choice.” My vision blurred. I stared in shock at the man who swore to protect me. How could he say something so cruel? I slapped him hard across the face. I knew then that we were done for good. “We’re over.” The slap shattered his calm facade. He glared at me. “I am so sick of this, Ella! Why are you always so damn obsessive? Why can’t you just let this go? Your mother has been dead for ten years! Ten years of you wallowing in your own hate! You make yourself miserable, and you drag everyone else down with you!” “Your father didn’t love her anymore! If she had just signed the divorce papers, things wouldn’t have gotten so ugly. Her own bitterness killed her. You can’t blame anyone else!”

Hearing him trash my mother, I snapped like an enraged lioness. I lunged at him, swinging my fists blindly. “Shut up! Don’t you dare talk about my mother!” “Those two bitches put her in the ground! They stole my life! They ruined everything!” Smack. He hit me so hard I went down. The glass table split my forehead open. Warm blood trickled down my cheek. Fear and regret flooded his eyes. He rushed forward to help me up. “Oh my god, Ella… I’m so sorry. I was just so mad. I didn’t mean to. I’ll take you to the hospital right now. You’re going to be okay, just don’t panic.” His terrified eyes made me gasp. For a second, he was my Ethan again. After my mom died, my life in that blended family was hell. My father couldn’t care less about me. Chloe and her mother made it their mission to break me. In those dark days, Ethan was my only lifeline. He once brought a baseball bat to my house to scare them off. He took months of grounding without a single complaint. Remembering all that… I wanted to give him one last chance. I looked up at him, begging. “Ethan… please. Just don’t be with Chloe. Okay?” Ethan flinched. He opened his mouth to speak. But the phone buzzed at the worst moment. A familiar voice came through the speaker: “Ethan! My mom found out about us! She’s cutting off my cards and kicking me out! You have to come save me!”

With a dramatic sob, the line went dead. Ethan bolted upright. His rush knocked me back down. He didn’t even notice. The worry in his eyes was another knife to my chest. I stayed on the ground, gripping his leg. “Ethan, don’t go. Please.” He peeled my hand off. His face was a mess of guilt and panic. “Ella, get an Uber to urgent care and get that checked out. Chloe needs me. I have to go.” Without a backward glance, he was gone. I let out a bitter laugh, letting the blood drip onto the spotless floor. Drop by drop. Chloe’s mother stole my mom’s husband. Now, Chloe was stealing mine. But I was not my mother. I refused to throw my life away for a man. A while later, my phone pinged. A friend request. The profile picture was Chloe. She was in my Vera Wang, kissing Ethan. They looked sickeningly in love. To see what her little game was, I hit accept. She didn’t text a single word. Just sent a video. In the video, Ethan was making a promise to Chloe’s mother. “Ma’am, I swear I’ll never let Chloe down. I’ll give her the most spectacular wedding this city has ever seen.”

“But I keep hearing Ella lives in your penthouse. You aren’t… legally married, are you? My daughter will not be some homewrecker.” Ethan clarified. “Ella and I have zero legal ties. She had nowhere to go, so I let her crash. She’s basically just a live-in maid.” “If it bothers Chloe, I’ll kick her out tonight.” The video cut to black. The wedding and the public acknowledgment I begged for? He handed them to her like it was nothing. Six years in the shadows, I was just a “maid” with “zero ties.” Ethan buried our childhood love with his own hands. Fine. Then we’re done. I dialed a number I hadn’t called in years. “Aunt Catherine. Your offer… I’m in.” The next morning, Ethan walked in with breakfast. He wore the same groveling smile as last night. “Ella, I waited in line just for this. Your favorite. Blueberry muffin and an oat milk latte. Come eat.” I am allergic to blueberries. But Chloe? These were her favorite.

Years ago, Chloe found out about my allergy. She spiked my food with blueberry jam. My throat closed up. I broke out in hives. I nearly went into anaphylactic shock. And yet, she went crying to my dad, claiming I was being “greedy.” My dad screamed at me first. Took me to the ER second. When Ethan and I got together, he swore off blueberries to protect me. The fruit was banned from our apartment. And now, he forgot. I smacked the muffin out of his hand. Ethan’s jaw tightened. “Ella, I bought you breakfast to apologize. What more do you want from me?” I looked him dead in the eye. “I’m allergic to blueberries.” It finally clicked. A flash of guilt crossed his face. “Sorry, I was in a rush this morning. I forgot. What do you want? I’ll go back.” “Don’t bother. You remembered Chloe’s favorite just fine.” My mockery hit a nerve. His face hardened. “Drop the attitude. Look at our circle. What guy in my position actually stays faithful?” “Six years, and I’ve only ever stepped out with Chloe. You should be grateful. At least I gave you the title of being a Hayes’s.” I froze. I couldn’t believe he’d say something so disgusting. Caught red-handed, with no remorse. Expecting me to look the other way like a good little girlfriend. Pure insanity. Was I supposed to be grateful to be his dirty little secret? And just let him cheat?

Taking my silence as surrender, he softened his tone. “Good girl. You’re smart. You know what’s best for you.” “I already promised Chloe’s mother a wedding. Her mom would destroy her if I backed out. But don’t worry—you’ll always be the special one to me.” “My estate on Long Island is ready. It’s quiet. Just lay low there while I handle the wedding. I’ll visit you all the time, I swear.” He finally said it. I looked straight at him. “No need. We’re—” Before I could even finish, he cut me off. “Oh, save it, Ella. Who else do you even have? Stop acting tough.” “I’m running late. Pack your things and head over.” I shook my head and started packing in silence. Erasing every trace of my existence in this place. I pulled out my phone to book a moving van. Then, a message popped up.

A scanned copy of a marriage certificate. The two people on it were Ethan and Chloe. With shaking hands, I dug out my own “marriage certificate.” I held them side by side. My legs completely gave out. Real certificates had City Hall’s embossed seal and the clerk’s signature. The one in my hands had nothing. Just a forged piece of trash. We were never married. All those times he called me “his woman,” “his wife”? It was all a sick joke. I laughed until I cried. The man who protected me since childhood trapped me in a lie for six damn years. “You know why Ethan faked that certificate?” Chloe stepped out, smirking. “Because you’re not good enough for him. So he hid you away. Never brought you around friends or family. If anyone asked? You were nothing but a free maid.” “Ella, your mother couldn’t beat mine. And you sure as hell can’t beat me.” She grabbed me by the collar. Pure malice in her eyes. “Don’t you hate homewreckers? Take a look at yourself. You’re the dirty little secret! You’re the mistress!”

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