At eighteen, I became Marcus Carter’s exclusive kept woman. I did it until I was twenty-eight. He was about to get married, yet he still refused to let me go. At his bachelor party, I went to pick him up. Right outside the door, I heard his friend ask: “You’re getting married, bro. Has that girl you’ve been keeping caused a scene?” Marcus crossed his legs, looking utterly relaxed. “She did. She tried to make a deal with me.” “Money or a title?” His friend asked, taking those two options for granted. Marcus let out a soft, mocking sneer. “She said she wants to go to Harvard Law.” The room erupted into laughter. “A high school dropout wanting to go to Harvard Law? What a joke!” Marcus smiled helplessly, swirling his drink. “Well, she’s my girl. If she wants it, I’ll buy her way in.” With those words from Marcus, I ignored all the mockery and let my heart settle. Three months later, Marcus kept his promise and drove me to the campus. But the registration desk he brought me to was actually Harvard’s janitorial hiring office! He stood there, hands in his pockets, and gestured toward the door. “With your skills, being a janitor here is more than enough.” Seeing me stand frozen, he laughed softly, tilted my chin up, and whispered: “What? Not happy? You gave me a condition harder than climbing to heaven just because you wanted to be Mrs. Carter, didn’t you?” I snapped my head away, pulled my near-perfect LSAT score sheet out of my bag, and slammed it hard against his chest. “Marcus, I did my part. I just didn’t expect you to be so useless!”

Marcus looked down at the certificate in his arms. Stunned for half a second, he flipped through it carelessly and laughed. “Chloe, how can you be so stupid? You gave me a fake score sheet?” “It’s a bit of a pity you can’t be Mrs. Carter…” As if realizing something, his laugh grew even more mocking. “You didn’t actually think a Harvard degree would make you good enough to marry into the Carter family, did you?” I looked at him and smiled—a bitter, mocking smile. “Mr. Carter, I know exactly who I am.” In the billionaire circle, women like me are just toys. Even though I’ve been with Marcus for ten years, that’s still all I am to him. “But I’ve been with you for ten years. Now that it’s ending, you can’t even get me a college degree?” Marcus looked down at me, his expression arrogant. “Baby, I’d love to help, but you haven’t opened a textbook in ten years. You can’t just get into a school like that.” “Besides, Harvard isn’t Carter territory. Did you really think you could fool them with a fake certificate?” My face went serious as I told him earnestly: “This score sheet is real. While you were busy preparing for your wedding, I was studying my ass off.” Marcus clarified softly, his hand brushing against my cheek. “Jealous?” “You’re quite the actress. I almost fell for it. Maybe I should put you in Hollywood. You’d make a great star.” I jerked my head to dodge his hand and sneered. “Marcus, do you even know me?” The year I moved into his mansion, the thing I gave up was a 1585 SAT score. Back then, I had the brains, but I didn’t have the power to pay off a three-million-dollar debt. Today, I still have the brains, but my freedom was bought by him. The scorching sun began to wear down Marcus’s patience. His tone turned cold and sharp: “Of course I know you.” “You’re putting on this whole show just to remind me not to ignore you, aren’t you?” Hearing that, I fell completely silent. This conversation was going nowhere. As my master, Marcus gave me the best food, clothes, and shelter, expecting nothing but my eternal gratitude. But how could he ever understand that what a caged bird wants most is the endless sky? “Are you taking the janitor job or not?” he asked. “No.” “Fine. I’ll give you one more chance. Ask for another compensation.” “Send me to Harvard.” Marcus’s eyes darkened completely. A mocking sneer slipped from his nose. “I’ve spoiled you too much.” With that, he got into his car and slammed on the gas, leaving me stranded. It was a remote suburb. I couldn’t even get an Uber signal. Pale under the baking sun, I pulled out my phone and called the Harvard admissions office. The voice on the other end said: “An LSAT score alone isn’t enough for your situation. The fastest way is to retake the SATs and get an outstanding score.” “And of course, ma’am, we hope you understand that tuition at Harvard Law is nearly a hundred thousand dollars a year. Please be prepared.” My body swayed. I had no money. Marcus rarely gave me cash. If I wanted something, he would buy it directly. I knew he was afraid I’d take the money and run. After all, that happened all the time in his circle. Lowering my gaze, I spoke in a hoarse voice: “I’ll take the test first. I’ll figure out the money later.” I’d been his secret mistress for so long. If it wasn’t for money, did I actually expect love? Since they all claimed I wanted money, then fine. I would take the money and go.

In the end, I took a local bus back to the city. The bumpy ride made my stomach cramp until I threw up. I forced myself onto a train, feeling half-dead by the time I made it home. The mansion was pitch black. Too exhausted to flip the switch, I fumbled my way toward the bedroom in the dark. “Learned your lesson yet?” Marcus’s voice cut through the silence. He was hiding in the shadows, scaring me so badly I jumped. Stopping in my tracks, I took a deep breath before whispering: “Yes.” “Marcus, I don’t want to go to school anymore. Just give me money instead. Not much. Just one million dollars.” I was telling the truth. One million dollars was just pocket change to men like him—the cost of a few lavish dinners. But Marcus chuckled, leaning back on the sofa carelessly. “Suddenly, I don’t feel like giving it to you.” “Why?” My voice sounded like a dying ember. “No reason.” He spoke with the arrogance of a man who ruled the world. Marcus was always impossible to read. He was willing to pay off my three-million-dollar debt, yet he begrudged me a single million. He clearly didn’t love me, yet he refused to let me go. At that thought, a surge of anger flared up inside me. I spat back: “Did Carter Enterprises go bankrupt? Or are you just like those cheap, married old men who count every single penny they spend on their mistresses?” Marcus stood up and closed the distance. The suffocating scent of expensive tobacco invaded my senses. “Chloe, sometimes I really want to strip away every single one of your thorns.” His fingers traced slowly along my skin, sending a chill straight down my spine. Then, he suddenly pulled his hand back, looking almost disappointed. “But then again, you wouldn’t be any fun without them.” He tossed a pile of designer clothes and bags from the sofa over to me, smiling mockingly. “My wife keeps a tight leash. I can’t give you cash, but these little gifts are fine.” “Oh, and she monitors my time, too. I have to go back to her now.” I sneered, unable to resist poking him again: “She keeps you on such a tight leash, and yet you still can’t stay faithful?” Marcus smirked from the doorway. “You’re just my kept woman. She’s my wife. There’s no conflict there.” The heavy front door slammed shut. I threw the bags onto the floor in frustration. Then, remembering their resale value, I swallowed my pride and neatly packed them away. Looking at the luxury bags, a wave of familiar misery washed over me. Years ago, I tried to run. But Marcus caught me almost instantly. After that, I stopped trying, mostly because he wasn’t married yet. My absolute red line was that I would never be the side-chick to a married man. My mother had been a homewrecker. The legal wife set a trap for her, leaving her penniless and drowning in three million dollars of debt. I was the one who had to pay for her sins. Now, I was about to walk down the exact same path. And I didn’t know if I could survive the punishment this time… The next day, I went to the prep center to pick up my study materials. Afterward, I went to a luxury consignment shop to sell the clothes and bags Marcus had left me. But the moment I pulled the bags out, a beautifully dressed woman burst into the store and slapped me hard across the face. “You shameless little thief! You stole my clothes and bags yesterday, and you’re already trying to sell them today?” The woman who slapped me was Samantha Sterling, Marcus’s new bride. It was as if she had been waiting for me all along. In that instant, sheer terror seized my heart. I had no power to fight back. I stood there helplessly as she produced the receipts and called the cops. The value of the items was high enough to qualify as a felony. She wanted to throw me in prison. I sat in front of the police officers. They asked: “Did you steal these?” I wanted to deny it. But if I said no, I would have to tell them I was a mistress, and that Samantha’s husband had given them to me. That would only drag me into a different kind of public humiliation. Just as the police were pressing me and I was about to speak, Marcus walked in. Without even glancing at me, he wrapped his arm around Samantha, his voice dripping with smooth charm. “Who dared to upset you, sweetheart? Why didn’t you tell me first?” Samantha glared at him, pouting. “Marcus, stop playing dumb.” Marcus shrugged, and only then did he bother to turn his gaze to me. I had been staring at him, my eyes filled with helplessness and desperation. Just like ten years ago, when I begged him to save me. But this time, Marcus didn’t save me. Instead, he smiled. “Pressing charges is such a hassle. Why don’t we just lock her up for ten days to let my wife blow off some steam?” He leaned closer to Samantha, his voice dangerously seductive. “How does that sound, babe?” Samantha’s face flushed pink. “Fine, just this once.” From beginning to end, Marcus never said a single word to clear my name. Instead, he joined hands with his wife to play with me like a toy. At that exact moment, I knew that if I didn’t escape, they would eventually play me to death.

Ten days later, I walked out of the detention center. My clothes hung loosely on my frame. And beneath the fabric, my body was covered in bruises. I had been beaten inside. Every pack has an alpha, and jail was no exception. From day one, the cell leader took a dislike to me. She had her lackeys beat me every single day for ten days, finding a new excuse every time. Because I was too pretty, because I didn’t speak, because I did speak, because I refused to lick their shoes… They dragged me into a living hell and tortured me for ten days. When I finally got back to the mansion, I stood under the hot water for hours. Desperately trying to scrub away every ounce of filth and degradation. Suddenly, the bathroom door was pushed open. Marcus leaned against the frame, clicking his tongue in mock pity. “My poor little bird looks so pathetic.” But his eyes held absolutely zero sympathy. I turned around, swallowing my shame. He asked again: “Chloe, do you finally know what you did wrong?” I ignored his question and asked my own: “The psychos in there—you put them up to it, didn’t you?” Marcus raised his hands in mock innocence. “How could I? I could never bear to hurt you.” “But my wife wasn’t satisfied. She insisted on hiring someone, and I couldn’t say no to her.” I let out a bitter laugh. His permission was no different from him doing it himself. I shut off the water and began to dry myself. Marcus stepped onto the wet floor, opening a tube of ointment and gently applying it to my bruises. “Chloe, don’t ever sell the things I give you again. Understood?” His voice was heavy, intimate. I took a step forward, instantly shattering the suffocating mood. “Fine. Then give me cash.” “What do you need money for? Have I ever let you go hungry or cold?” “I want to go to college.” At those words, Marcus suddenly pressed down hard on a bruise, making me gasp in pain. His voice turned freezing cold: “What’s the point of studying? You’ll still end up crawling back to my bed anyway.” “Does school teach you how to please me?” I wanted to tell him that I wanted a degree so I could escape to somewhere far, far away. So far that Marcus would completely forget about me. So that I could forget my past and live the brilliant life I had planned ten years ago. But I couldn’t say it. I didn’t dare. We parted on horrible terms that night. As if sensing my desperation, Marcus not only locked me inside the mansion but also stationed guards outside the doors. But I didn’t care at all. My only goal was to get a near-perfect score on the SATs. Now that I was trapped inside, I had all the time in the world to study. After a few days of online classes, the camera turned on, and a completely different face appeared on my screen. Looking at the handsome face of the man on the screen, a memory flashed in my mind. He was my high school desk partner, Julian Vance. “My younger sister was busy, so I’m subbing for her class today.” He was just as shocked to see me, but he quickly explained and proceeded with the lesson. After class, we caught up. He asked why I vanished right after graduation, but I avoided the topic. Julian didn’t press me. Instead, he shared what he had been up to. His family’s company was headquartered in Massachusetts, and he had taken over the business after graduating college. Harvard University was right there in Massachusetts. Hearing this, a wild idea suddenly sparked in my mind. After a long silence, I asked: “Julian, would you be interested in making an investment?” He paused for a second on the screen, then looked at me with his bright, warm eyes and smiled. “Tell me about it.”

Marcus kept me locked up for a whole month. If it were the old me, I would have lost my mind. But now, my days were entirely consumed by studying. I studied day and night, barely sleeping four hours a day. When Marcus finally came to see me, the first thing he saw was my deathly pale face. He frowned, his eyes filled with disgust. “Where is Chloe? Why do you look like a ghost?” I rolled my eyes. “Whose fault do you think that is?” Marcus seemed to be in a great mood. He just laughed at my snark. “My bad. I’ll take Chloe out for a walk tonight.” He kept his word. That evening, he took me to a high-society gala. The moment we walked in, whispers broke out around us. “Mr. Carter and Samantha just got married. They spent a whole month on their honeymoon. Their relationship seemed so perfect; I thought he’d finally discarded this girl.” Someone sneered in response: “Well, you know men. They get bored of the same face eventually.” Only then did I realize that the month Marcus had vanished was spent traveling with Samantha. Lowering my eyes, I quietly took a sip of my champagne. Marcus looked down at me, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Jealous?” “I’ll take you on a trip next time, okay?” Hearing this, I snapped my head up, hope flaring in my chest. “Can you take me to Massachusetts?” Marcus frowned. “Are you still dreaming about Harvard?” I shook my head quickly. “No. I just want to see it with you.” Marcus’s expression softened, and he agreed. “Alright. I promise.” My heart leaped. Mentally, I checked off another step on my plan. Halfway through the gala, Marcus left to mingle. I slipped away to the back garden to get some fresh air. I had barely stood there for a minute when a woman suddenly grabbed me from behind, her voice trembling with rage: “You little bitch! I finally found you!” I turned around in utter disbelief. It was my mother, the one who was supposed to be behind bars. “When did you get out?!” Years ago, to pay off her debts, she had conspired with some underground thugs to sell me off. I had found out just in time and called the cops. She and the entire scam ring were arrested. I never expected her to be free already. “You heartless brat, you didn’t even come look for me when I got out.” “Hurry, mom is broke. Give me some cash.” I stared at her warily, my voice icy. “I don’t have any money.” “You’re sleeping with a billionaire, and you’re telling me you don’t have money?” Her voice was shrill, piercing my ears. Disgust washed over me. “I don’t. You need to leave right now, or he will destroy you.” Her face contorted into something vicious, and she let out a low cackle. “I gave you a chance, but you blew it. Don’t blame me for what happens next.” Before I could react, she shoved a chemical-soaked cloth over my nose and mouth. In an instant, my knees buckled, and my entire body went limp. Not far away, a greasy, heavy-set man was rubbing his hands together, staring at me like a piece of meat. “I heard plenty of rich guys in this circle want to sleep with you. I’ll sell you to them one by one. We’ll be swimming in cash.” My mother’s voice was filled with manic excitement. Horror and despair choked me as they dragged me closer to the man. As we drew closer to him, I caught a glimpse of a figure out of the corner of my eye. It was Marcus. He stood there, hands in his pockets, calmly watching the entire scene with a dark, amused smile. It was a silent, sadistic invitation. I gathered every ounce of strength left in my lungs and screamed: “Marcus, save me!” A look of pure satisfaction crossed his face as he strode toward us. Seeing him approach, my mother panicked, dropped me, and fled into the darkness. Before I hit the cold ground, Marcus caught me in his arms. Shivering violently in his embrace, I grit my teeth and asked: “If I hadn’t begged you, would you have just stood there and watched?” He smirked, his voice dripping with innocence. “You’re my kept woman. How could I ever let someone else have you?” Then, he leaned in closer, whispering in my ear: “I just wanted you to realize that in this world, you have no one but me. Your only family is trash, and you? You are utterly helpless on your own.” I stared at him, my eyes wide with shock. Instantly, I understood. He was the one who had tipped off my mother. From the very beginning, he wanted me to realize that he, Marcus Carter, was my only lifeline. But what he didn’t realize was that every living creature will fight to the death to escape its cage. And I had my own fight to win. I reached up, wrapped my arms around his neck, and softened my voice. “You’re right… I guess I really have no one but you.” My submission worked wonders. Marcus finally stopped restricting my freedom. Two months later, I sat for the SATs. When the scores came out, I had achieved a near-perfect score. My tutor was in utter disbelief. “You’re a genius! How do you only have a high school diploma?” I looked down and smiled. “Even geniuses have bills to pay, Mr. Davis.” With the scores in hand, I finally wore down Marcus until he agreed to take me to Massachusetts. The night before the trip, he held me close and asked casually, “So, how did your little test go?” My fingers trembled slightly, but I kept my voice steady. “Just average. I just wanted to feel what it’s like to study again.” He leaned back, his eyes narrowing with a dark threat. “Enjoying it is fine. But if you actually got admitted, I would just drag you right back. Besides, a broke girl like you would get kicked out of a school like that in a heartbeat anyway.” I leaned into his chest, playing the obedient pet. “I know. I’m staying right by your side.” Marcus smiled in satisfaction. Three days later, we boarded a first-class flight from Las Vegas to Massachusetts. I was restless the entire way, constantly looking out the window. Marcus noticed my anxiety. “What are you so nervous about?” I grabbed his hand, my voice shaking. “It’s my first time flying. I’m just a little scare.” “Pathetic,” he sneered softly. He called the flight attendant over, ordered two glasses of wine, and handed one to me. “Drink up. You’ll be there when you wake up.” I took the glass and leaned my head on his shoulder, my eyes darkening. “Okay.” An hour later, the cabin lights dimmed, and we both drifted into sleep. … The plane landed in Chicago for a layover. Marcus was woken up by a flight attendant. He instinctively turned his head, but when he saw the empty seat beside him, his chest tightened. “Where is the woman who was sitting next to me?” Startled by his hostile tone, the flight attendant forced a polite smile. “Sir, the lady got off the plane first. Before she left, she told me to let you sleep. Weren’t you two parting ways here?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “430112”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

The year Victoria Vance—Vicky, my older sister—had her heart broken, she slapped me for the first time. “Chloe, stop showing off your boyfriend in front of me!” After that day, an invisible wall rose between Vicky and me. Right before my wedding, I was diagnosed with leukemia. Vicky didn’t hesitate to donate her bone marrow to save me. I thought we had finally made peace, that we were sisters again. But she fell into a coma after the surgery, her life hanging by a thread. I begged my fiancé, Ethan Caldwell, to help her. But in his eyes, I saw nothing but intense, burning regret. With bloodshot eyes, he finally confessed: “In our second year together… Vicky and I crossed the line.” “Chloe, I can’t marry you. I have to protect Vicky.” I understood. Without a word, I cancelled the wedding. I quietly stepped out of their lives. Seven years later, a reporter interviewed Vicky. “Mrs. Caldwell, how did you and Mr. Caldwell meet?” Staring at the camera, Vicky broke down in tears, looking panicked and unable to answer. Not long after, Ethan burst into my flower shop. “Chloe, why are you tormenting Vicky again?”

Seeing Ethan again, I was so calm it surprised even myself. The love I once wanted to scream to the entire world now felt less important than a $29.90 promotional order in my shop. “I haven’t contacted Vicky.” My voice was dry and raspy, my breath shallow. Ethan stared at me suspiciously. “Chloe, do you have a cold?” “Yeah, just a cold.” I brushed him off, casually sliding my diagnosis report and medication under the cash register. Since my relapse, I had thought about begging Vicky. Begging her to donate her marrow one more time. Begging her to let me live. But the doctor had only shaken his head with pity. Ethan looked around the shop uncomfortably. When he saw the “Lease for Transfer” sign on the window, he frowned. “Why are you renting out the shop?” “I need money.” “How much?” I looked up, genuinely surprised. Ethan immediately cleared his throat, trying to distance himself. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I just don’t want you harassing Vicky. She suddenly started crying during her live interview, and she won’t tell me why, no matter how much I ask.” “Vicky has been strong her whole life. You’re the only one who can make her cry.” “Chloe, tell me. Why is she crying?” A sharp pain pricked my chest. My hand slipped, crushing the floral foam in my grip. The last time Vicky cried for me was when she confessed—her suicide attempt back then had been fake. She had wanted to fake her death to escape our lives. But she didn’t expect that the one who would actually leave was me. We had a screaming match that day, our tears pouring down heavier than the rain outside. Vicky pointed at me and yelled: “Chloe, I knew Ethan two years before you did! If you hadn’t been so shameless and confessed first, the woman by his side all these years would have been me!” From that moment on, we were completely shattered. Vicky didn’t have a single tear left for me. I smoothed over the ruined floral foam. Along with it, I smoothed away the hysterical version of myself in my memories. “Ethan, you’re being ridiculous.” “I haven’t seen her in seven years. You live with her every single day. If you don’t even know why she’s crying, how would I?” Ethan’s shoulders tensed. He looked away guiltily, staring silently at the flowers on my counter. David Austin white roses. Ethan used to love buying them for me. They were also Vicky’s favorite. Thinking I could at least make some money off him, I asked, “Want to take a bouquet home for your wife?” Ethan recoiled as if the flowers were poison. “No.” “She’s pregnant. Things from the outside aren’t clean.” A agonizing pain sliced through my heart. The floral shears in my hand almost slipped. I carefully tied the ribbon before whispering, “Congratulations.” I once had a baby too. But during the 20-week anatomy scan, we found out about my relapse, and the doctor advised me to terminate the pregnancy. At six months, I could already see the baby’s face on the screen… Back then, Ethan held me tight, promising me we would have other children in the future. Now, he finally had his child. It just had nothing to do with me anymore. Ethan’s expression darkened. He muttered, “Is $20,000 enough?” It felt like he was trying to buy his way out of guilt. Suddenly, my phone on the counter buzzed with a Snapchat notification from an unknown account. The tiny shred of guilt in Ethan’s eyes instantly vanished. The screen lit up with a text: [Chloe, karma finally got me. Are you happy now?] Furious rage took over Ethan’s face. “Chloe, what did you do to her?” He grabbed the bouquet on the counter and slammed it to the ground. My brain went numb for a second. He lunged forward, forcing me to stumble back until I crashed into several flower stands. A sharp thorn sliced my ankle. The tiny wound immediately gushed with a large amount of blood. It wouldn’t stop bleeding. My heart hammered wildly against my ribs. I gasped, trying to defend myself. “I didn’t do anything!” Ethan grabbed my wrists, pinning them against the wall. His eyes were dark with rage. “Watching Vicky and me live a perfect life… are you going to tell me you aren’t jealous?” He glared down at me, completely blind to the fresh, bruised needle marks hidden under my long sleeves. Terminal renal failure was a guarantee in my stage, and only dialysis was keeping me alive. I avoided his gaze and said seriously, “Ethan, if I don’t treat this wound right now, I will bleed to death.” But Vicky had begged me not to steal her husband. The truth was, I had never even thought about it.

Ethan let out a cold laugh. He didn’t believe me. But when he saw the thick beads of sweat pouring down my forehead, his grip suddenly loosened. I quickly bandaged my wound with practiced ease and swallowed my clotting medication. Looking at the shattered glass and crushed flowers on the floor, a bitter taste filled my mouth. “Ethan, can you please just get out?” Instead, Ethan walked over to the glass door, turned the sign from “Open” to “Closed,” and locked it. He suppressed his anger. “Chloe, we need to talk.” I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed a handful of ruined white roses and threw them right at his face. “Get out! Stop wasting my business hours!” The next second, a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills slammed against my cheek, stinging like a slap. Ethan looked down at me with pure disgust. “Can we talk now?” It was enough to cover two of my dialysis sessions. I bit my lip, swallowed my pride, and knelt down to pick up the cash. “Fine.” A soft chuckle came from above me. It was quiet. But it felt like a heavy stone, crushing my spine so hard I couldn’t stand up straight. “Chloe, how much money will it take for you to leave Vicky alone?” Ethan was convinced I was pulling strings behind the scenes to make Vicky cry. My heart was too tired to argue. I looked up. “How much are you willing to give?” Ethan hesitated for a moment. “Thirty thousand.” Ten thousand more than before. I pulled out my bank card, which had a balance of less than five dollars. “Transfer it.” Ethan’s eyes filled with disappointment, as if he had just confirmed his worst fears about me. “I have conditions. You close this shop today, pack your bags, and go back to our hometown.” “Delete all your social media accounts. Snapchat, Instagram, all of them. Change your phone number…” To protect Vicky, he wanted me to vanish from the face of the earth. Why was he in such a rush? I didn’t have much time left anyway. Suddenly, loud, frantic banging echoed from the glass door. It was Vicky. Ethan rushed to unlock it. “Vicky? How did you get here? Did she say something to you again?” He turned and glared at me with pure hatred. Vicky walked straight toward me and, without warning, fell to her knees. “Chloe, I’m begging you, please don’t take Ethan away from me. I can’t live without him…” My mind felt like a rubber band stretched to its absolute limit. Vicky was reminding me with her very presence: I owed her my life. Twice. Years ago, right before her SATs, I fell dangerously ill. Her guidance counselor told her not to miss the exam to stay by my hospital bed. But she had said, “Chloe and I only have each other. I can’t live without her.” And seven years ago, during the bone marrow transplant, she had said the exact same thing. My vision blurred with tears. The pain in my chest was so agonizing that I started blaming myself. Why was I clinging so desperately to life anyway? Ethan pulled her into his arms, whispering promises that he would never leave her. He used to whisper those exact same promises to me. But now, they belonged to Vicky. I forced down the metallic taste of blood in my throat and whispered, “Don’t worry. I never planned on taking him back.” A flash of confusion crossed Ethan’s eyes. His grip on Vicky tightened. “Chloe, do you actually mean that?” I kept my eyes down, straightening the crumpled cash. “Give me three months. I’ll disappear completely. I won’t get in your way ever again.” “Chloe…” Vicky reached out to touch me, but I stepped back, avoiding her hand. She stumbled toward the counter, but her eyes caught the medical report I had hidden under the money. As she read the bold letters on the page, her face went deathly pale, as if she were being choked. “A relapse? How is that possible?” “The doctors said we caught it early… our compatibility rate was incredibly high. They said you had a 90% chance of a full recovery…” Shock and guilt tore through her face. She collapsed back into Ethan’s arms, tears streaming down her cheeks. Ethan’s face went cold. “Chloe, you actually forged a fake medical report just to make Vicky feel guilty? Are you trying to kill her?”

Years ago, every doctor in the oncology department told me I was the luckiest girl alive. As long as I took care of myself after the transplant, I could live a long, normal life. But before my anesthesia had even fully worn off, I was betrayed and abandoned by the two people I trusted most. Later, Vicky and I had a fight that shattered everything. She called me an ungrateful leech. She shoved me so hard I fell into a patch of thorny bushes. I ran a high fever for a week, and then I packed my bags and left the city alone. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw their faces. I couldn’t sleep. I started taking more and more sleeping pills. By the time I finally went for a blood test, my numbers were already a disaster. I tried so hard to cooperate with the doctors. I fought with everything I had just to stay alive. But my condition only got worse by the day… I wished more than anyone that this diagnosis report was a fake. Ethan gripped the paper tightly, staring at me. “Chloe, why aren’t you saying anything? Are you feeling guilty?” A heavy weight pressed on my chest, and every vein in my body throbbed with pain. I didn’t have the energy to fight him anymore. I shrugged. “Yeah. It’s fake.” “I just wanted Vicky to suffer every single day…” Slap! Ethan’s hand slammed across my face. My head whipped to the side, my eyes landing on the scattered flowers on the floor. Ethan’s voice was as cold as ice. “If Vicky hadn’t been worried about your feelings, I would have broken up with you years ago!” “You already pushed her to the edge of a rooftop once. I won’t let you do it again!” I let out a breathless, raspy laugh, my eyes blurring with tears again. “If you love her so much, why did you make her cry?” Ethan’s eyes flickered with guilt. Vicky quietly took two steps away from him, her face completely pale. A bitter wave of resentment washed over me. Why did I have to play the villain in their twisted love story when I was the one dying? Ethan tore the diagnosis report to shreds, his face red with embarrassment and anger. “You ungrateful bitch. You’re the one who made her cry!” Vicky looked at me with pleading eyes. “Chloe, let’s go to the hospital. Let’s get you checked.” Ethan sneered. “Vicky, have you forgotten? She loves faking illnesses.” Loves it? In my entire life, I had only faked being sick once. It was after I dragged Vicky back from the edge of that rooftop. She had locked herself in her room, refusing to see anyone. I tried everything to make her smile, but she kept pushing me away. Until I faked a high fever to trick her into leaving the house. I led her to the Whispering Pines Overlook, where I had set up a small table covered in white roses for her. She had held me and sobbed. “Chloe, you have to be happy. You have to get the happiness I never could!” The memories rushed back, hitting me like a physical blow. Thinking of how much she used to love me, I silently sent that blessing back to her. I said, “There’s no need for an exam. The report is fake.” As long as I died quietly, Vicky would get her happy ending. Both of them let out a visible sigh of relief. “Ethan, I need to talk to Chloe alone. Please wait outside.” Ethan looked reluctant, but he finally walked out. I was so exhausted. I leaned against the counter for support, my face completely drained of color. “Vicky, I have nothing to say to you.” But Vicky stepped forward, burying her face in my shoulder, weeping with a lifetime of insecurity. “He calls your name in his sleep.” “Not just once…” My breath caught in my throat. I couldn’t believe it. Vicky whispered that she had confronted him about it. Ethan had denied it instantly, unable to look her in the eye. Vicky took my hand and pressed it against her slightly rounded stomach. “Chloe, please help me. Help my baby.” If I died, would they finally be happy?

I asked defensively, “What do you want me to do?” “I found someone for you… a nice guy…” “No way!” Vicky was silent for a few seconds. Then, she pulled up her Snapchat messages. “Tell Ethan that you were the one who sent these.” I looked at the screen, shocked by how unrecognizable my sister had become. The messages were from an unknown number. They were filled with vicious insults. Written in my tone, they cursed Vicky, saying she would never be happy. I let out a bitter, angry laugh. “Vicky, you want me to take the blame for something I didn’t do? You’re insane!” Vicky flinched at my words. “I’ll give you money. Whatever you want, just name your price.” “I just need him to move on from you completely.” “I just want a real, complete family.” My heart felt like it was being squeezed by a fist. Looking at her desperate, tearful face, my own eyes burned. A complete family. That concept had been an obsession for both of Vicky and me our entire lives. Our mother had walked out on us. Our father told me that the family fell apart because of me, that I should have never been born. Our childhood was a chaotic nightmare. If it wasn’t for Vicky, I wouldn’t have survived. But in the end, she was the one who stole my home. I pushed her away, my voice colder than ever. “Why should my life be sacrificed for your happiness?” Vicky shrieked, “Chloe! How much have I sacrificed for you since we were kids?!” Ethan burst back into the shop. Seeing the messages on Vicky’s phone, he slammed me hard against the wall. “Chloe, how did you become so vicious?” “She’s your sister!” My head spun from the impact. I gasped out, “She wrote those herself!” But Ethan’s eyes were filled with absolute disappointment. “You’re completely remorseless!” He pulled out his phone and made a call. Within minutes, my shop was reported for using toxic chemicals in the floral arrangements and shut down. To protect Vicky, he was willing to drive me into a corner. Furious, I grabbed a wet piece of floral foam and threw it at his face. A crowd began to gather outside the glass doors. Ethan’s loud voice pushed me straight into the spotlight. “You’re just a crazy, jealous brat who wants to steal her sister’s husband!” Instantly, the whispers from the crowd turned against me. “I’m the crazy one? He was the one who cheated on me with Vicky first!” I screamed back, pointing at him. The crowd’s judgmental glares shifted toward Vicky. Ethan, furious, shoved me back hard. The sharp metal of the floral shears on the counter sliced deep into my lower back. A cold chill washed over me. I reached for my clotting pills, but Ethan grabbed my arm, pinning me. His fingers brushed against the thick needle marks on my skin, but he only frowned. “Chloe, Vicky is the only one I love. Stop dreaming!” He snatched my phone from my hand. “I’m deleting your accounts myself. You won’t get another chance to harass Vicky!” I clutched my lower back. Every vein in my body was pulsing with agonizing pain. I went completely pale, shivering from the cold spreading through my limbs. I could only watch as Ethan carried a shaken Vicky out of the shop and into his car. The car door shut, blocking out the noise of the street. And blocking out my last cry for help. My consciousness sank into a dark, endless ocean. In the car, Vicky panicked, clutching her stomach. “My baby…” They had lost two pregnancies over the last seven years. Vicky had always believed it was karma. Now, a familiar, dull ache spread through her abdomen. Ethan slammed on the gas, racing toward the hospital. Only after the ER doctor assured them that the baby was fine and that the pain was just from extreme stress did they finally breathe a sigh of relief. “Ethan, I think… I think I saw Chloe bleeding back there.” Her eyes held genuine worry, but there was also a hint of suspicion. Ethan avoided her gaze. “She’s manipulative. She was definitely faking it.” As they walked toward the exit of the lobby, my phone in Ethan’s pocket began to ring. The caller ID read: Nephrology / Dialysis Clinic. Ethan’s brow furrowed. He picked up. A frantic voice came through the speaker: “Chloe, why aren’t you here for your dialysis session?”

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While cleaning my son’s room, I accidentally found his blood donor card. The blood type was listed as B positive. But my husband and I are both type O. How is it biologically possible for two Type O parents to have a Type B child? I took the card to my husband. Carter, who had always been a polite gentleman, flew into a rage instantly: “Our son is already in college! What more do you want? You’re paranoid all day. Did you stop taking your meds?!” I insisted on a DNA test. He slapped me hard across the face twice, slammed the door, and locked me inside the house from the outside. Listening to the click of the lock, I suddenly laughed. Eighteen years of marriage, eighteen years of giving my absolute everything. It turned out I had wasted it all on a monster. I calmly picked up my phone and dialed the number of my husband’s biggest rival: “I agree to transfer my patents to your company.” After hanging up, a wave of sadness washed over me. Over the years, so many industry giants had desperately tried to recruit me. But I rejected them all for Carter and our child, willingly becoming a nameless shadow behind Vance Enterprises. I gave Vance Enterprises patents worth billions, yet I never received a single dime in dividends. Thinking back now, I was an absolute fool. I sat on the sofa until three in the morning. Carter didn’t return until the dead of night. In the darkness, neither of us spoke. In eighteen years, we did have some beautiful times. In the early days of his startup, I stayed up late with him to revise business proposals. When I was exhausted, I would lean on his shoulder and nap. He used to say, “Chloe, once the company grows big, I’ll give you the absolute best of everything.” And the company did grow massive. But he became so busy that I barely saw him. Whenever he came home, he would just crash onto the bed out of exhaustion. When I complained that the house felt lonely, he would say, “Don’t you have Tyler to keep you company?” When I said I wanted to go to a concert, he would say, “Let my secretary go with you. I really can’t find the time.” Gradually, I stopped asking. I thought this was just what marriage became. Fading from passionate love to comfortable family affection. Now that I think about it, maybe I was the only one who became family. While he became something else entirely. At dawn, I got up to go to the kitchen and ran into Carter. He hadn’t cooked in ages. “You’re awake?” He turned to look at me, dark circles under his eyes. “I made breakfast.” On the dining table were milk, toasted bread, and slightly burnt fried eggs. He sat down too. Neither of us mentioned what happened yesterday. “Tyler is coming home next week.” My hand holding the glass paused. “Okay.” His voice softened. “Chloe, please don’t overthink things, okay? I promise I’ll spend more time with you and Tyler from now on.” I looked up at him. I had looked at this face for eighteen years, watching him grow from a boy to a mature man. I used to be able to tell at a glance if his smile was real or fake, if he was happy or annoyed. Now, I couldn’t see through him at all. Without looking up, I said quietly, “When are we doing the DNA test?” The tenderness on his face froze for a second, then slowly dissolved. “Are you seriously going to keep pushing this?” He threw his fork onto the plate, making a sharp clattering sound. I suddenly remembered when Tyler was a baby. Everyone said he looked exactly like Carter, but no one ever said he looked like me. I stood on the balcony, watching his car pull out of the underground garage. Then, I turned and went into the study. A divorce agreement and a property division agreement were already lying on the desk. I owned one hundred percent of the rights to the patents that kept Vance Enterprises running. But too much time had passed, and Carter seemed to have long regarded them as his own. My phone buzzed. It was my mother. “Chloe, sweetie, are you feeling any better today?” Her voice sounded cheerful. “By the way, Melanie is returning next week. Carter knew you were in a bad mood, so he specifically bought her ticket. He even arranged a director position for Melanie at Vance Enterprises. You two haven’t seen each other in so long. Let’s have a family dinner next week.” Melanie. The name made my eyelid twitch. She was coming back, and Carter had arranged it. I had sacrificed so many years for the company without even holding a title, yet she was being air-dropped into a director position the moment she returned. Scattered memories suddenly rushed into my mind. Since when were Carter and Melanie so close? I pressed my lips together and kept my voice calm. “What time? I’ll prepare the food.” “No need, no need! We’ll bring the food over. Just get some rest.” My mother paused. “Chloe, listen to me. Be warmer to Carter tonight. Men need to save face, you know.” I didn’t want to talk to her anymore, so I muttered a few words of agreement and hung up. Then, I opened my phone and booked an expedited DNA testing service at an out-of-state facility.

After doing this, I went to Tyler’s room and collected a few strands of his hair. Once I sent the hair to the testing center, I texted a private investigator to look into Carter’s bank statements and financial transactions. Twelve hours later, the report from the DNA center arrived in my inbox. I sat in the study, staring at the file for a long time before opening it. I scrolled straight to the very end. “Chloe Sterling is excluded as the biological mother of Tyler Vance.” Even though I already knew the truth in my heart, my hands couldn’t stop shaking when I saw it in black and white. Eighteen years. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. The world was spinning around me. I closed the file, stood up, and walked to the window. Outside, the autumn leaves were starting to turn yellow. In the distance, the ferris wheel of the amusement park turned slowly. I could almost see the happy times when we were a family of three. I once thought they were the two people I would spend my entire life protecting. My phone buzzed. It was the preliminary report from the investigator. A few screenshots of bank statements and transfer records. Carter’s personal account had been sending monthly wire transfers to an offshore account for at least ten years. And the owner of that offshore account was Melanie. The amounts weren’t small—more than enough for someone to live a highly luxurious life abroad. On the last page, the investigator added a note. “Ms. Melanie Sterling owns a property abroad, purchased nineteen years ago, paid in full.” That was the year I found out I was pregnant. That same year, Melanie went abroad. Suddenly, a horrifying theory bloomed in my mind. Over the weekend, my parents arrived with bags of groceries. Melanie followed behind them, wearing an off-white designer suit and holding an elegant gift box. “Chloe,” she smiled, walking over to hug me. I slightly turned my body and dodged her. Her smile froze for a split second, but she quickly recovered. “It’s been so long. I brought you a gift.” The dining table was packed with food. My mother was busy in the kitchen, while my father and Carter chatted about business in the living room. Melanie naturally took the seat right next to Carter. I frowned but said nothing. During dinner, an exquisite emerald jade bangle slid down Melanie’s wrist. My gaze locked onto it. I had seen that exact emerald bangle at an auction two years ago. It was stunningly translucent. I loved it back then, but when I saw the price tag, I couldn’t bring myself to buy it. At the time, Carter had said, “If you like it, bid on it. Money is no object.” I said, “It’s too expensive. Forget it.” When I asked about it later, he told me someone else had bought it. Now, it was sitting on Melanie’s wrist. “Chloe, what are you looking at?” Melanie noticed my stare and smiled, twirling her wrist. “Is this bracelet pretty? Carter bought it for me. He said it suits me perfectly.” Carter, who was drinking soup, choked slightly and looked up at me. “It’s a welcome gift for Melanie joining the company.” “Yes, exactly,” my mother quickly chimed in. “We’re all family. What’s wrong with a welcome gift? Chloe, don’t tell me you’re being petty about this?” I said nothing, just kept my eyes on Carter. He avoided my gaze. Melanie smiled again, her voice soft and sweet. “Don’t misunderstand, Chloe. I just think some things look best on the right person. Like this bracelet—doesn’t it look even more radiant on my wrist than it did at the auction?” As she spoke, her eyes were locked onto Carter. I was all too familiar with that look. It was smug, filled with the possessiveness of a woman looking at her own man. After dinner, Melanie volunteered to wash the dishes. Carter stood up to help, and they went into the kitchen one after the other. I sat in the living room, listening to the running water and low murmurs from the kitchen. I couldn’t hear the words, but I could hear Melanie’s occasional giggles. My mother sat down next to me. “Chloe, look at how sweet Melanie is, always helping out. She came back this time to help Carter with the company. Don’t always keep a cold face. Talk to her more.” My father also spoke up: “It wasn’t easy for Carter to build the company this big. Having family help is a good thing. You need to show some grace.” I turned to look at my father. “Dad, Carter is your son-in-law, and Melanie is your daughter. Don’t you think they’re a little too close?” My father’s face darkened. “What nonsense are you talking? We watched Melanie grow up. She’s your sister. What’s wrong with her helping Carter?” “My sister?” I repeated softly. “What if I told you Tyler might not be my biological son?” Both of my parents froze. My mother reacted first, grabbing my hand tightly. “Chloe! You can’t say things like that! How could Tyler not be your child? Are you losing your mind again?” My father slammed his hand on the table. “Enough! I think you really have a mental problem! Carter was right, you need to see a psychiatrist!” Their reactions completely extinguished the last spark of hope in my heart. In their eyes, only someone like Carter, who could bring them direct benefits, mattered. But they didn’t know that Carter only got to where he was today because of me. At night, after everyone left, I told Carter: “I’m going to stay at our old family house for a few days next week to sort through some old things.” He didn’t ask questions and just nodded. “Do you need me to drive you?” “No need.” Our old family house was where I lived before marriage. My parents had moved to a new condo years ago, leaving it empty. I went up to the attic to dig through old belongings. In an old leather suitcase, I found the things Melanie had left behind years ago. A few diaries, some photos, and a small metal box. I opened the metal box to find a stack of letters. The top envelope was yellowed, with “To Carter” written on it. The handwriting was neat and elegant—Melanie’s handwriting. I pulled out the letter and unfolded it. “Carter, you came to see Chloe again today. The way you look at her when you smile makes my heart ache so much. I know I shouldn’t think this way, but I really love you.” There was another one beneath it. “Carter, I heard you two are getting married. Chloe is so lucky. If I had met you first, would things be different?” My hands began to shake as I kept flipping through. The last item wasn’t a letter, but a photo. In the photo, Melanie and Carter stood side-by-side under a cherry blossom tree. Melanie’s head was resting slightly on his shoulder, and her hand was cradling her belly. On the back of the photo, there was a small line of text: *The unloved one is the real intruder.* Holding the photo, my fingertips went ice cold. It had started that early. And I, like an absolute fool, had been kept in the dark for all these years. Then where on earth did my real child go? I pulled out my phone, took a deep breath, and texted the investigator: “Help me check the birth records and surveillance footage of the Seattle Maternity Hospital on the afternoon of June 21st, eighteen years ago.” “Also, check all of Melanie’s records from eighteen years ago when she was abroad. Focus on whether she has any birth records.”

Right then, my phone buzzed with an alert from my smart home app. “Motion detected in the living room.” I frowned. At this hour, Carter should be at the office, and the housekeeper had the day off. I opened the app, and the live stream loaded. The living room camera was facing the sofa area. Melanie’s figure appeared on screen. Carter was leaning back on the sofa, his tie loosely hanging around his neck. Melanie had changed into a sheer, silk slip dress that clung softly to her body. She was sitting on Carter’s lap, slowly and deliberately unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt with her fingertips. Carter didn’t push her away. Instead, he slid his hand down her hair, letting it rest on her waist, giving it a soft squeeze. Carter’s breathing became noticeably heavy. The living room lights cast their shadows together, tangling into one. Staring at the screen, a wave of coldness hit my stomach, and a sickening feeling rose in my throat. “Carter,” her voice was so soft it could melt, “do you know how much my heart aches every time Tyler calls me Aunt Melanie? He’s supposed to call me…” “Melanie!” Carter interrupted her sharply, turning his face away to dodge her touch. Yet, his hand gripping her wrist didn’t let go. At that moment, I felt like something inside my heart completely shattered. The rest of the footage was too repulsive to watch. I saved the recording. I closed the app and tossed the phone aside. My stomach churned. I ran to the bathroom sink of the old house and dry-heaved, but nothing came up. Only a burning pain radiated from my chest to my entire body. My phone kept buzzing on the bed. It took me a long time to recover enough to walk back and look at it. The investigator’s messages were popping up one after another. “Mrs. Sterling, I found it.” “Melanie Sterling entered the US in July eighteen years ago. In August, she gave birth to a full-term baby boy at a private hospital in Los Angeles. The blood type record was B positive.” “I retrieved the records from the maternity hospital on the day you gave birth. Between 3:00 PM and 5:00 PM that day, two baby girls were born. The hospital they were transferred to has shut down, and the physical archives are lost.” “But when Melanie went to the US again in November of that year, she had a baby girl of about five months old with her.” “The girl is currently working under the table at a local Chinese restaurant in Chinatown. According to the restaurant owner and neighbors, she lives in extreme poverty, has an isolated personality, and often has unexplained bruises on her body. Melanie collects most of her wages every month through a middleman.” Photos were attached. One showed a back alley. A thin, frail girl was carrying a massive black trash bag. Another showed her curled up on a stool in the corner of a restaurant, eating cold leftovers with a blank expression. The latest one was a close-up of her arm, covered in dark bruises. In a place so far away, she was doing the hardest labor, getting beaten, and the money she earned was being handed over to the woman who stole her entire life. A tidal wave of pure hatred instantly consumed me. I stood up, my vision going black for a few seconds. I leaned against the wall, digging my nails hard into my palms. The sharp pain kept me conscious. I cried for a long time, until my tears ran dry, leaving only a searing ache in my chest. I forwarded all the evidence, including the surveillance footage, to my lawyer, and then called Carter’s biggest business rival. “I can sign the patent licensing agreement tomorrow, but under one condition: Vance Enterprises must go bankrupt.” A low, calm male voice came through the line, filled with absolute certainty. “No problem.” Hanging up, I looked at the files in my phone. Carter Vance, I built you up, and I can tear you down just as easily.

On the flight to Los Angeles, I barely closed my eyes. New information from the investigator showed that my daughter’s registered name was Lily. She worked at a restaurant in Chinatown and lived in a windowless basement in the alley behind it. In the photos, she was terrifyingly thin. At eighteen, she had the exhausted eyes of a forty-year-old. What broke my heart the most were the fresh and old bruises covering her arms. The plane landed in Los Angeles in the early hours of the morning. I rented a car and drove straight to Chinatown. At seven in the morning, the restaurant wasn’t open yet. The back alley was piled with overnight garbage. A girl wearing a faded T-shirt and jeans walked out, dragging two giant black trash bags. She was so thin that the bags seemed to crush her. Her face had several burn scars, but I recognized her instantly. Her face looked so much like mine. She struggled to throw the bags into the dumpster, then stood by the sink in the alley to wash her hands. The water was freezing. She shivered and wiped her face with the back of her hand. At that exact moment, she looked up. Our eyes met through the car windshield. She froze, confusion flashing in her eyes, before she quickly lowered her head and turned to go back inside. “Wait!” I pushed open the car door, my voice trembling. The girl stopped, turning to look at me with a cautious, distant gaze. “Are you Lily?” I approached her, trying my best to suppress the shaking in my voice. “Who are you?” her voice was barely a whisper, raspy from a long time of silence. My throat tightened. “I came from Seattle…” “Do you know Melanie?” Her eyes turned cold. “What does she want now? I already sent this month’s money.” “No, it’s not her.” I took a deep breath. “My name is Chloe. I am your real…” Before I could finish, a harsh roar came from inside the restaurant: “Lily! Where the hell are you? The dishes aren’t washed yet!” Her body tensed, and she turned to leave. I grabbed her wrist—it was so thin that I could clearly feel the bones. “I’m taking you out of here.” She pulled her hand back, looking at me with a complicated expression. “Ma’am, I don’t know you. I have to work.” “I’ll pay you double your wage,” I practically begged, “No, ten times. Just come with me, let’s talk.” “Talk about what?” She let out a bitter laugh. “Lily,” when I called her name, tears finally spilled over. “Listen to me, Melanie is not your mother. I am.” She froze. The back door slammed open again, and a heavyset, angry man poked his head out. “Hey! What the hell…” “She quits.” I cut him off, pulling a stack of cash from my bag and thrusting it into his hands without counting. “This is her termination fee. As of today, she no longer works here.” The man took the cash, his eyes lighting up. Then he looked at me suspiciously. “Who are you to her?” “I’m her mother.” I took Lily’s hand, and this time, she didn’t pull away. In the car, she remained silent, staring out the window. I took her to my hotel, ran a hot bath for her, and prepared clean clothes. When she stepped out of the bathroom wearing a soft bathrobe, I finally saw the full extent of the abuse. Bruises of all shades covered her arms, back, and even her thighs. “Who did this?” my voice was ice cold. “Melanie.” I closed my eyes, suppressing the urge to kill. “Lily, I need to tell you the truth. Eighteen years ago, I gave birth to a daughter, but she was switched at birth. The son I raised is actually Melanie’s child, and you are my biological daughter.” She stared at me blankly, trying to process the information. “Do you have proof?” I unlocked my phone and showed her the files the investigator had sent. She read through it slowly, very carefully. When she finished, she looked up, tears welling in her eyes. “So all these years… you didn’t know I existed?” I squeezed her cold hand. “If I had known, I would have fought heaven and earth to find you.” She finally broke down. All the buried resentment, pain, and loneliness of eighteen years poured out in that moment. I held her tight, as if holding a long-lost treasure. “I’m sorry. Mom is late.” We stayed in Los Angeles for three days. I took her to the hospital for a full checkup and to treat her injuries. I took her shopping for clothes, walked with her on the beach, and took her to restaurants she had never dreamed of visiting. She slowly began to open up, telling me about her life. She started working under the table at the restaurant when she was eight, but because of the local school system, she managed to attend some high school classes. “Never again,” I gently stroked her hair. “Mom will protect you from now on.” On the flight back, Lily fell asleep on my shoulder. Looking at the clouds outside the window, I had a complete plan in mind. Carter, Melanie. You stole eighteen years of my daughter’s life. I will make you pay for it with the rest of yours.

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I am an animal communicator. A young woman reached out to me. She said her dog had lost its appetite lately, even though the vet found nothing wrong. My senior dog, Lucky, was very sick and needed round-the-clock care. So, I asked if I could bring Lucky along with me. The woman scoffed, her attitude incredibly arrogant. “Your dog is just a mutt? No way. My Ruby is a ten-thousand-dollar Standard Poodle!” But I stood my ground. If Lucky couldn’t come, I wouldn’t take the job. Only then did she reluctantly agree. After spending a few minutes communicating with Ruby, she finally opened up to me. “It’s all because of Mom’s boyfriend.” “Every time he comes over, he drags Mom into the bedroom for hours. Mom always makes these weird, painful sounds.” I felt incredibly awkward and was trying to figure out how to put this delicately to her owner, when Ruby added: “I absolutely hate that man. His name is Jason!” I froze. Because my fiancé’s name is also Jason. Lucky immediately let out a raspy bark, growling at Ruby: “You’re lying! Jason is my dad!” It was no wonder Lucky was so emotional. He had been abandoned as a puppy. A fifteen-year-old Jason had rescued him and brought him back to life, raising him for ten years. For a decade, Jason had treated Lucky like his own flesh and blood. So even though Lucky was ten, he was still incredibly innocent. Ruby snapped back defensively: “You little street dog! There are so many guys named Jason. How do you know it’s the same one?” “My mom’s lock screen is a photo of the two of them. See for yourself!” Lucky was speechless. He whimpered and curled up at my feet. It was his way of showing submission. But Ruby wouldn’t let it go. She lunged forward and bit down hard on the scruff of Lucky’s neck. Lucky was only twenty pounds. Ruby was a massive, sixty-pound Standard Poodle. The moment Ruby bit down, Lucky let out a heartbreaking, agonizing shriek. I rushed forward to soothe Ruby, trying to get her to let go. Just then, Ruby’s owner, Freya, threw the door open. “Hey! How dare you hit my Ruby!” She charged at me. Caught off guard, I was shoved backward. My lower back slammed hard against the sharp corner of the table. A sharp pain shot through me. I instantly shielded my stomach. Once I was sure the baby inside me was okay, I tried to explain: “Miss Freya, you’ve got it wrong. Ruby attacked Lucky first.” “I wasn’t hitting her. I was just trying to calm her down so she would let go.” Freya wrapped her arms around Ruby’s neck and sneered at me. “It’s just a mutt. Who cares if she got bitten? Why are you overreacting?” I took a deep breath. “Lucky has been my partner’s beloved pet for ten years. To us, he is priceless.” Back when Jason’s stepmother cut his allowance to just a thousand dollars a month, he still spent eight hundred of it to pay for Lucky’s vet bills. Later, when I helped him reclaim his family’s multi-million-dollar empire, he even built Lucky his own custom dog mansion and hired a private vet. But Lucky was always more attached to me than anyone else, so I was the one who usually looked after him. Freya’s face twisted into a mocking grin. “Only broke people talk about things being ‘priceless.’ The diamond collar around Ruby’s neck alone cost thirty thousand dollars.” “You work your butt off for a measly hundred dollars a session. You couldn’t afford Ruby’s collar even if you worked for a year.” “A mutt for a cheap loser,” she sneered. “Perfect match.” I looked at her calmly. I was dressed very simply today because I was scheduled to volunteer at a stray animal rescue center later that afternoon. After helping Jason secure his family inheritance, I had resigned from my position as a corporate executive. I used my life savings to establish a non-profit animal rescue organization. Charging a hundred dollars a session wasn’t much—it barely covered the cost of Lucky’s premium dog food. But every cent of that went directly toward saving the lives of stray dogs. Lucky understood Freya’s insults and barked furiously: “What do you know, you horrible woman? My dad is loaded! He wired my mom five million dollars just as a Valentine’s Day gift!” Freya couldn’t understand Lucky’s barks. Annoyed by the noise, she kicked him. She was wearing pointed, razor-sharp stiletto heels. Lucky’s frail body was sent sliding across the floor before slamming hard against the wall with a dull thud.

“What are you doing?!” Furious, I rushed over to Lucky, my heart in my throat. Lucky already suffered from age-related illnesses. The shock triggered a seizure. He lay on the floor, convulsing violently and foaming at the mouth. “Ugh, what is that smell?” Freya pinched her nose in disgust and shrieked: “Your dog just peed on my floor! That is disgusting! Do you have any idea how much this imported Italian hardwood cost?!” I scooped Lucky into my arms and marched toward the door, glaring back at her with pure rage. “I’ll pay for your damn floor! But if anything happens to my dog, I will make you pay!” Freya let out a cold laugh. “A broke loser like you? Make me pay?” “Ruby! Block her!” On Freya’s command, Ruby lunged forward, blocking the exit. Panic gripped me, but I didn’t want to hurt the dog. I tried to communicate with her: “Ruby, Lucky is one of your own. He’s dying. Please, let me through.” Ruby growled back fiercely: “You threatened my mom! This mutt deserves to die!” Ruby refused to budge, and Lucky was seizing violently in my arms. Gritting my teeth, I tried to push past her. Freya screamed, “Ruby, bite her!” Before I could react, a sharp, agonizing pain ripped through the back of my leg. I screamed in agony. My grip faltered, and Freya seized the opportunity to snatch Lucky from my arms. She held Lucky up by the scruff of his neck, a sadistic smile playing on her lips. “This dog is practically dead anyway. He’s just a burden. Why don’t I do you a favor and end it?” Realizing what she was about to do, I ignored the blinding pain and yanked my leg out of Ruby’s jaws. She tore a chunk of flesh right out of my calf. But I was still too late. I could only watch in horror as Freya raised Lucky high above her head and slammed him violently onto the floor. Lucky’s tiny body convulsed a few more times, and then… he went completely still. His glassy, dark eyes were still fixed on me, wet with unshed tears. I collapsed to my knees, practically crawling over to Lucky. I cradled his lifeless body, sobbing hysterically. He was always so sweet, so intelligent. Jason once told me that during college, there was a time he couldn’t even afford food. It was Lucky who scavenged trash cans for packaged food, and even stole food from neighbors to bring to him. Once, Lucky’s leg was broken by a cruel passerby. Fearing Jason would worry, he endured the pain and pretended he was fine. Jason only found out when the wound became infected and started oozing pus. Another time, Jason’s rented apartment caught fire due to faulty wiring. He had inhaled too much smoke and passed out. It was Lucky who used every ounce of his strength to grab Jason’s shirt and drag him out of the burning building to safety. But Lucky himself was hit by a falling, burning wooden beam, leaving a permanent scar on his back. “Chloe,” Jason had choked out back then—it was the first time I had ever seen him cry. “Lucky saved my life.” “I used up all the luck in my life on two things: finding Lucky, and finding you.” Now, Lucky was dead. I couldn’t even fathom the depth of the agony Jason would feel. I numbly picked up Lucky’s body and whispered, “It’s okay, Lucky. Let’s go find Dad.” But Freya wasn’t done with me. She blocked my path, refusing to let me leave. “You’re not going anywhere until you pay for my floor!” She stepped in front of me, raising her chin arrogantly. “It’s just a stupid mutt anyway. You pay for my floor, and I’ll buy you a new dog.” I glared at her, my eyes burning with hatred. “Freya, you will pay for what you did.” Freya scoffed, entirely unfazed. “Oh, please. Empty threats mean nothing.” Seeing that she was utterly heartless, I shoved past her shoulder. Ignoring the excruciating pain in my calf, I limped toward the door. But Freya grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me backward. Already unstable on my feet, I lost my balance and fell back. With the baby in mind, I instinctively reached out and grabbed Freya, who was closest to me. Freya didn’t expect me to react. Unable to dodge, she fell backward under my weight, crashing into a side table. Bottles and knick-knacks scattered everywhere. I struggled to find my footing, but my foot slipped on something slick. I fell hard against the floor. A bottle rolled right in front of my face. I could clearly read the words on the label: “Personal Lubricant.”

A sudden surge of warmth, accompanied by a sharp contraction, rushed from my lower abdomen. I looked down. A pool of blood was spreading beneath me. Years ago, Jason’s stepmother hired thugs to break his legs. I had thrown myself over him to protect him. That wooden bat ended up striking my lower back instead. It cost me our three-month-old baby back then, and left me with severe fertility issues. This pool of blood dragged me right back into that nightmare. I dug my fingernails so deep into my palms that they bled, barely managing to stay conscious through the sheer terror of losing this miracle baby. My phone had slid far out of reach during the fall. I used every ounce of my remaining strength to yell at Freya: “Freya, call 911! Now!” Freya finally panicked when she saw the blood pooling around me. With trembling hands, she unlocked her phone and dialed a contact. After a few rings, a deep, familiar male voice answered: “What’s wrong, baby?” I froze completely. Having loved Jason for five years, I knew his voice better than my own heartbeat. I knew the placement of every single mole on his body. But that familiarity now turned into a razor-sharp blade, stabbing straight into my chest. There was no coincidence. The man on the other end of the line—Freya’s boyfriend—was my fiancé, Jason Vance. Freya whimpered, her voice cracking as she fake-cried: “Ruby hasn’t been eating well, so I hired this pet communicator.” “But she started beating Ruby, and she let her dog pee all over our floor.” “I asked her to pay for the damage, but she pushed me! Then she slipped and fell, and now she’s bleeding everywhere!” Hearing Freya twist the truth, my throat felt like it was being squeezed. I couldn’t utter a single word. “Are you hurt?” Jason’s voice was instantly cold and protective. “It hurts so bad,” Freya pouted. “You have to make it up to me tonight, babe.” “Not tonight. I have to spend time with my fiancée.” A flash of resentment crossed Freya’s eyes, but she kept her voice sweet and whiny: “Why waste time with that boring plain Jane? Don’t you want to see the new lingerie I bought?” Jason went silent for a few seconds. When he spoke again, his voice was icy: “I told you to remember your place.” Freya’s face went pale. Embittered by the humiliation in front of me, she glared at me before whispering an apology: “I’m sorry, babe. I know. But what should I do with this girl?” “Take her to the hospital first. I’ll be there soon.” Jason’s tone softened once Freya apologized. As pain washed over me, I vaguely remembered that Jason was supposed to have an incredibly important board meeting this morning. Because I knew how hard he had worked to get to the top, I never dared to disrupt his work for any reason. Even during my previous miscarriage, I had forced myself to stay calm just to comfort him. I waited until he left for work before cradling Lucky and crying my eyes out. Freya hung up, swaying her hips as she walked over to me. “Well, you heard him. My man is a billionaire CEO.” “Lucky you. You’re about to get a massive payout from me. I suggest you take the money and shut up.” While she was on the phone, I could feel the tiny life inside me slipping away completely. I closed my eyes in agonizing grief, a single bitter tear rolling down my cheek. … Even though I had already braced myself, hearing the doctor officially declare that the baby was gone still felt like a physical blow. My heart was ripped raw. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t close my eyes. Every time I did, images of Jason and Lucky flooded my mind. We had already fully decorated the nursery. I picked out the crib. Jason picked out the stroller and the toys. I was only four months pregnant, but he had already rushed to sign up for parenting classes, eager to learn everything. He was so excited. Every single night, he would press his ear against my stomach, trying to hear any sign of life. But he was also terrified. He was scared this baby would slip away just like the first one. Sometimes he would wake up from nightmares in a cold sweat. Then he would hold me tight, comforting me—and comforting himself: “I won’t let anything happen. I won’t let anyone hurt you or our baby again.” When Lucky found out I was pregnant, he was ecstatic. I had heard him bragging to the other neighborhood dogs: “It’s amazing! Mom and Dad are having a baby.” “Now I don’t have to worry about them being lonely after I’m gone.” “But I have to stay strong and fight this sickness. I have to live long enough to see the baby with my own eyes.” I stared blankly at the ceiling, tears flowing silently down my face. After a commotion outside the VIP ward, Jason and Freya’s voices drifted through the door. “How is she?” “The doctor said she lost the baby. What do we do, babe? Do you think she’s trying to scam us?” “If it can be solved with money, it’s not a problem,” Jason scoffed. “Oh, by the way, her mutt tried to bite Ruby. I threw the mutt to protect her, and it died.” “Do you think I was too cruel?” “Of course not. Ruby was my gift to you. I’m glad you protected her.” “Besides, a worthless mutt trying to bite Ruby? Truly, a dog is just like its owner.” Hearing Jason’s words, I gripped the bedsheets so hard my knuckles turned white. “Alright, people like her will do anything for money. You can’t handle this.” “Let me go in and talk to her. Wait out here for me, good girl.” With that, Jason pushed the door open and stepped inside.

“So you’re the one who hurt my girl?” He looked down at me, his eyes filled with impatience and disgust. I brushed my messy hair away from my face and pushed myself up, staring straight at him. His eyes widened in utter shock. “Jason,” I whispered. “Who exactly is your girl?” Jason’s face froze instantly. “Chloe?” “How… how is it you?” I let out a hollow, bitter laugh. “Because I am the pet communicator Freya hired.” Jason’s gaze slowly drifted down to my stomach, his voice trembling. “The… the baby…” I kept my voice flat, almost detached. “Dead. Obviously.” His eyes turned red instantly. He rushed to my bedside and dropped to his knees. Reaching out, he pulled back the blanket, trying to touch my stomach the way he always did. “No… how is this possible?” he stammered, in complete denial. “Just one more month, and we would have felt the baby kick.” I smacked his hand away. “Jason, how long have you been sleeping with her?” Jason froze, a cold sweat breaking out across his palms. I didn’t press. I just watched him quietly. After a long silence, he hung his head. “Five months.” Which meant every time he touched me, he had just come from her bed. A sudden wave of intense nausea hit me. I leaned over the side of the bed and dry-heaved. Panicked, Jason jumped up, poured a glass of warm water, and handed it to me. Looking at my distorted reflection in the glass, my hatred boiled over. I grabbed the glass, threw the water straight into his face, and slammed the cup hard against the wall. “Get the hell out!” Panic flared in his eyes. “Chloe, please listen to me. I was set up. It was a trap.” I laughed mockingly. “The first time was a setup, and what about the rest? Did someone force you to use lube with her too?” “‘Don’t you want to see the new lingerie I bought?’” I mimicked Freya’s whiny voice, laughing so hard that tears streamed down my face. “When you bought her a luxury penthouse and spent thirty thousand dollars on her dog’s collar, did you think about me and our baby once?!” Jason’s fists trembled at his sides. “She was only twenty when she was set up to sleep with me. I felt like she was an innocent victim, so I wanted to compensate her.” I couldn’t believe such a raw, screeching voice was coming from my own throat: “Compensate her in bed?! Jason, do you even remember?!” “When I first got with you, I was twenty too!” “You didn’t have a single penny back then! You wanted to start a business, so I worked three jobs just to keep a roof over our heads!” “You were allergic to alcohol, so I drank for you at corporate dinners until my stomach literally bled!” By the end, my voice cracked, dissolving into choked sobs. Five years of sacrifice, poured down the drain. My tears flowed endlessly. Jason closed his eyes in agony. “It’s because I owed the twenty-year-old you too much.” “Whenever I look at her… I just see shadows of you.” For a second, the million things I wanted to scream got stuck in my throat. I stared at his face as he guiltily looked away. “So that’s how you justified it to yourself,” I whispered, a hollow feeling settling in my chest. “Tell me, did you see shadows of Lucky in Ruby too?” Jason froze. He suddenly snapped his head back to look at me, his entire body trembling. “Where… where is Lucky?” I stared coldly at his pale face. “Didn’t Freya tell you? She threw Lucky to the ground and killed him to protect Ruby.” “Oh, that’s right. You even praised her for doing a good job.” Jason pulled out his phone with shaking hands. “No. No, that’s impossible. It must have been a rescue dog. It’s just a coincidence.” He frantically dialed our private vet. “Where is Lucky? FaceTime me right now!” The vet answered honestly: “Chloe was heading out this morning, and Lucky refused to leave her side. He was holding onto her jeans.” “So she had no choice but to take him with her.”

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On our wedding anniversary, I secretly booked a flight to another city, wanting to surprise my husband on his business trip. Instead, I found his secretaries crowded around a little boy, gushing over how the child’s eyes and nose looked exactly like my husband’s when he was young. Trembling, I pushed open the heavy wooden door of the CEO’s office, only to hear his assistant’s mocking laugh from inside. “Mrs. Sinclair didn’t even finish high school. What kind of quality could her genes possibly have? To keep her from getting pregnant, Mr. Sinclair purposely swapped her vitamins with anti-fertility pills.” “My wife is not yours to gossip about.” Julian Sinclair’s voice rang out, cold as ice. But in the next second, he walked over to the sofa where a woman in a delicate white dress was sitting. His voice softened instantly. “Vivian, what gift do you want? Jewelry? Or a new property in the Hamptons?” My mind went completely blank. For over two thousand days and nights, I had suffered so much. I had taken countless painful hormone pills and endured three grueling rounds of IVF. In the end, it was all a meticulously designed trap by the man I loved. I pushed the door wide open.

Seraphina’s POV Having been married to Julian Sinclair for six years, my greatest wish was to have a child of our own. Yet, over those six years, I tried every method possible, and my pregnancy tests always came back with a single, devastating line. I, who feared pain more than anything, endured countless injections and took handfuls of bitter pills. I even went through three painful IVF cycles, all of which ended in failure. Seeing me suffer so much, Julian would hold me tight, his eyes red with tears. “Sera, let’s stop. We don’t need a baby. I don’t care about having an heir. I only care about you.” I always blamed myself. I thought my body was broken. Until today, our wedding anniversary. I took a flight to our branch office in Chicago, hoping to surprise Julian. Instead, I saw a crowd of secretaries surrounding a little boy who looked about two years old. “Happy birthday, Oliver! Here’s your gift. Do you like it?” “Oliver is so adorable! His eyes, his expressions… he looks exactly like Mr. Sinclair’s childhood photos!” “Honestly! Mr. Sinclair is so blessed. A thriving empire, a perfect family, and such a cute son. Anyone would be jealous!” Staring at the boy who was a carbon copy of Julian, my mind shattered. I tried to tell myself it was a mistake. How could Julian have a son this old? Refusing to believe the nightmare unfolding before my eyes, I decided to ask Julian directly. While everyone’s attention was on the child, I bypassed the front desk and walked straight toward the CEO’s private office. Just as I raised my hand to knock, I heard the voices inside. Through the crack of the door, the scene inside became clear. Julian’s assistant, Marcus, was speaking in a flattering tone. “Mr. Sinclair, using a business trip as an excuse to see Vivian and Oliver was brilliant. Your wife bought it again! She’s so incredibly gullible. For the past two years, you’ve used this excuse, and she has never suspected a thing!” “If you ask me, you and Ms. Sterling are the true power couple. She’s from an old-money family and graduated from the Ivy League. With her genes combined with yours, Oliver will definitely be a genius. Taking over the Sinclair Group in the future will be a breeze!” “As for your wife, she didn’t even finish high school. What kind of quality could her genes possibly have? A child from her would only drag down the Sinclair family’s IQ. Besides…” Before Marcus could finish, Julian’s icy voice cut him off. “Who do you think you are to talk about her?” His eyes were like daggers, the sheer coldness making the assistant shut his mouth instantly. “My wife is not someone you get to look down on. If I hear another disrespectful word about her, you can pack your bags and leave.” Marcus turned pale and apologized profusely. “Yes, sir. My apologies.” Julian didn’t look at him again. He turned and walked toward the sofa. Through the crack in the door, I saw a woman sitting on the sofa. She wore a white dress and carried herself with an elegant, gentle aura. I recognized her. Vivian Sterling. Years ago, when the Sterling family went bankrupt, Vivian had tried to save her family by drugging Julian and climbing into his bed. But she had failed. Julian had her thrown out of the hotel room, barely clothed. At the time, Julian’s face had been dark with disgust. “Ms. Sterling, I have a wife. You come from a noble family and graduated from a top university, yet you resort to such cheap tricks to save your business. Don’t you find it pathetic?” That scandal had rocked the New York elite back then. Everyone said Vivian had ruined her life by offending the devoted Julian Sinclair. In fact, I hadn’t heard her name in years. I never imagined that the missing Vivian had been hidden away by Julian at this branch office. And they even had a child together! “Today is Oliver’s birthday. I already gave him his present. What about you? What do you want?” Julian stopped in front of Vivian, his voice dropping to a gentle whisper. “Jewelry? A new house? Or…” “I don’t need anything,” Vivian said softly. “The contract was very clear. I give you an heir, you fund the revival of my family’s company. It’s a pure transaction. Oliver is two now; he’s long past the nursing stage. Take him back to New York and let your wife raise him. After today, we have nothing to do with each other.” The smile on Julian’s face vanished. “Who told you we’re done?” His voice deepened as he reached out, pinching her chin. “Vivian, what do you take me for? A tool you can just discard when you’re done?” Seeing the tension rising, Marcus quickly chimed in, “Ms. Sterling, to help you get pregnant back then, Mr. Sinclair spent almost every night here with you, barely going home. For the past two years, no matter how busy he was, he always carved out time to fly here to see you both.” “And to keep Mrs. Sinclair from conceiving, Mr. Sinclair personally swapped her daily hormone supplements with anti-fertility pills. She still thinks it’s her own fault and goes to the fertility clinic every week.” “Ms. Sterling, Mr. Sinclair has done so much. Can’t you feel his heart? How can you just cut ties with him now?” Outside the door, the blood in my veins rushed to my head before freezing into solid ice. Over two thousand days and nights… I had suffered so much, cried so many tears. In the end, it was all a trap he had meticulously designed? It wasn’t that I couldn’t have children. It was that he wouldn’t let me!

Seraphina’s POV The office fell into a dead silence. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I pushed the door open. The moment Julian saw me, he let go of Vivian’s chin in a panic. “Sera?” His brow furrowed, a flash of pure panic crossing his eyes. “What… what are you doing here?” I didn’t look at him. My gaze swept past him and landed on Vivian, who was still sitting on the couch. Vivian’s face remained expressionless as she spoke first. “Mrs. Sinclair, did you hear what we said? Are you here to cause trouble?” She stood up. “Please don’t misunderstand. Your husband and I have a strictly contractual relationship. There are no feelings involved, and I never intended to ruin your marriage. Oliver is two years old. According to the agreement, you two can take him back to raise. From now on, I have nothing to do with Julian.” She paused, then added with a calm, deliberate tone, “So, if you want answers, you should probably look at your husband. He’s the one refusing to let go, not me.” Every word felt like an icicle piercing straight through my heart. I turned my eyes back to Julian’s face. The face I had looked at for six years. The man I had loved with all my soul. His brow, his nose, his lips. I had traced them a thousand times with my fingertips. Now, those eyes that used to look at me with nothing but warmth were filled with shock, panic, and a humiliating shame of being caught red-handed. Slowly, I walked toward him. Slap! The sharp sound of a hand hitting flesh echoed through the quiet office. Julian’s head snapped to the side. A bright red handprint quickly swelled on his left cheek. He slowly turned his head back, his dark eyes clouded with a storm, his jaw clenched tight. My hand was still trembling, the palm burning with pain. But I didn’t stop. I turned toward Vivian, raising my hand again. This time, my wrist was caught in mid-air, gripped tightly. “Seraphina!” Julian roared, violently shoving me away. “That is enough!” His strength was terrifying. Losing my balance, I stumbled backward, my lower back slamming hard against the sharp corner of the mahogany desk. A sharp, blinding pain shot through my spine, forcing a scream from my throat. I collapsed onto the floor, unable to stand up. Julian rushed forward, but not to help me. He stepped in front of Vivian, shielding her completely with his tall frame. He glared down at me, his face dark. “If you have anger, take it out on me. Don’t take it out on an innocent person.” An innocent person? My vision blurred from the pain. The agony in my back was nothing compared to the violent tearing in my chest. Suddenly, I remembered a charity gala six years ago. Shortly after I married into the Sinclair family, I had accompanied him to a high-society event. A group of wealthy socialites had surrounded me, mocking me, calling me a “gold digger” and saying a “high school dropout didn’t deserve to stand next to Julian Sinclair.” Julian had overheard them. His face had gone cold instantly. He not only forced them to bow and apologize to me on the spot, but he also ruined their family businesses within a month. Back then, he had shielded me just like this, telling the world, “My wife is not someone you get to insult.” But now, he had thrown me against a desk, showing no concern for my pain, only rushing to protect another woman, calling her “innocent.” How laughable. “Security!” Julian’s sharp command snapped me out of my thoughts. The office door opened, and two bulky bodyguards walked in. “Mrs. Sinclair is emotionally unstable. Take her back to the villa in New York,” Julian ordered coldly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “She is not allowed to leave without my permission.” “Yes, sir.” The bodyguards grabbed me by my arms, lifting me up. “Let go of me!” I struggled, but the pain in my back robbed me of all my strength. Julian’s gaze finally landed on my face. Those eyes that once held nothing but tenderness now held only annoyance and coldness. “Go home first. Once you’ve calmed down, we will talk.” The bodyguards practically dragged me out of the office, down the long corridor under the shocked stares of countless employees, and threw me into the waiting car. Julian’s private jet was already waiting at the airport. By the time I was brought back to the New York villa, it was already midnight. The bodyguards dropped me onto the cold marble floor of the living room and stepped outside, locking the grand doors from the outside. The villa was dead silent, with only me left in the empty space. Clutching my bruised lower back, I struggled to stand up. The pain was still throbbing, like needles piercing my flesh with every movement. The living room was brightly lit, and piles of beautifully wrapped gift boxes lay on the coffee table. They were wedding anniversary gifts Julian had ordered for me. There was antique jewelry bought at a premium from an auction, a limited-edition haute couture gown from Paris, and a painting by an artist I had casually mentioned liking. Even my best friend had once said enviously, “Julian is so good to you. He doesn’t care that you can’t have kids. He only cares about you. He’d bring the whole world to your feet.” For a long time, I thought so too. I felt so guilty for not being able to give the Sinclair family an heir, thinking my own body was a failure. But now, looking at these gifts, they felt like the ultimate mockery. The man who claimed he didn’t care about having a child simply didn’t want me to have his child. He wanted another woman to bear his bloodline. Since he and Vivian already had a two-year-old son, I would happily get out of their way.

Seraphina’s POV I grabbed my phone, found the contact for Julian’s mother, Eleanor Sinclair, and dialed. “Seraphina?” Eleanor’s voice was as cold and aloof as ever. “Why are you calling me this late?” I took a deep breath, my voice surprisingly calm. “Mrs. Sinclair, I agree to divorce Julian.” “What did you say?” Eleanor couldn’t hide the gasp of delight in her voice, though she quickly turned cautious. “Are you serious?” Eleanor had always despised me because of my background. The last time she tried to force us to divorce, Julian had threatened to hurt himself right in front of her. Since then, Eleanor hadn’t dared to openly force us apart, only applying pressure on me in secret. I bit my lip. “I will sign the papers. But under one condition: you must help me prepare a completely new identity and send me out of the country. Otherwise, with Julian’s obsession, he will never let me go.” “Deal,” Eleanor said, her voice shaking with excitement. “I will come to the villa myself tomorrow morning.” At ten the next morning, Eleanor arrived at the villa. Dressed in a pristine Chanel suit, she looked every bit the powerful matriarch. She didn’t even sit down. She simply tossed a manila folder onto the coffee table. “Read it. If there’s no problem, sign it,” Eleanor said flatly. “I’ve agreed to your terms. Your new identity and travel documents will be ready in ten days. The official divorce certificate will be handed to you then.” I picked up the papers. The terms were simple. I would voluntarily waive all marital assets, leaving only with my personal belongings. The Sinclair family would pay me a lump sum of twenty million dollars as a settlement, and from then on, we would have no further association. I didn’t even bother to read the financial details. I flipped directly to the last page and signed my name. The scratching of the pen on the paper sounded incredibly loud in the quiet room. Six years of marriage, ended in a few seconds. “You’re smarter than I thought,” Eleanor said, sliding the signed agreement back into her bag with a satisfied smile. “Someone will pick you up in ten days. Remember, you chose this. I didn’t force you.” With that, she turned and left. I sat on the sofa, staring at the bright sunshine outside, unable to tell if I felt heartbroken or relieved. But the endless hormone treatments, the agonizing IVF procedures… it was finally over. At three in the afternoon, my phone rang. It was an unknown number. I picked it up. “Hello?” “Is this Julian Sinclair’s wife?” a stern male voice asked. “Your husband was involved in a physical altercation. The other party is refusing to settle, and we need a family member to come down to the precinct. Please come as soon as possible.” I blinked. “A fight?” “Yes, it’s pretty severe. Please get here quickly.” After the line went dead, I frowned and opened Instagram. Sure enough, the internet was already exploding with news. #Billionaire CEO Julian Sinclair involved in street brawl# #Julian Sinclair’s secret child exposed# #CEO fights another man over mistress# The top video had already racked up millions of views. I tapped on it. The footage was shaky, but it clearly showed Julian pinning a man to the ground, his fists raining down mercilessly. Vivian was screaming, trying to pull him off, while little Oliver stood nearby, sobbing hysterically, crying, “Daddy, stop! Stop hitting him!” Under the video, the comment section was filled with mockery, and many of the comments were aimed directly at me. “See? Men’s promises are trash. He claimed he didn’t care about his wife’s infertility, but he went ahead and had a son with a gorgeous Ivy League heiress anyway.” “A woman who can’t produce an heir in a wealthy family always ends up discarded. This Mrs. Sinclair is the perfect example.” “Do you guys think the wife will divorce him? I bet she won’t! She’s a high school dropout; she relies entirely on him for her luxury lifestyle. Without him, she’s nothing. Who would want a useless, infertile woman?” “She definitely won’t leave the money.” “I heard he spoils her rotten. If I were her, I wouldn’t divorce him either. Just take the money and shut up.” I scrolled through the comments, my expression completely blank. I hit retweet on the most-liked comment and added a simple caption: Ten days. Wait and see.

Seraphina’s POV When I arrived at the precinct, I immediately saw the two of them sitting on a bench. Vivian was holding an antiseptic swab, gently dabbing at the cuts on Julian’s face. Her movements were tender, her eyes filled with worry. Julian sat with his eyes closed, letting her tend to him. Without saying a word, I walked past them to speak with the officers and the lawyer of the man Julian had beaten. By the time the paperwork was finalized and we stepped out of the police station, the sky had gone completely dark. Julian walked ahead with a dark face, and Vivian followed a few steps behind. She suddenly stopped and looked at me, biting her lip. “Mrs. Sinclair, about today…” Before she could finish her sentence, I turned around and slapped her hard across the face. The force of the blow caught Vivian completely off guard. She stumbled back, clutching her cheek, her eyes instantly filling with tears. “Seraphina!” Julian reacted instantly. He lunged forward, grabbing my arm and pulling me away so hard I almost lost my footing. He shielded Vivian behind him, his face livid, his eyes blazing with fury. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why did you hit her?!” I stabilized myself and glared back at him coldly. “Why? Because she knowingly slept with a married man. What’s wrong with giving her a slap?” “I didn’t!” Vivian sobbed, lowering her hand to reveal the bright red finger marks on her pale cheek. Her voice cracked with tears. “Mrs. Sinclair, I’ve explained this to you. I never wanted to ruin your marriage! It’s Julian who won’t let me go! What more do you want from me?” “He won’t let you go?” I let out a mocking laugh, my gaze sharp. “Vivian, stop playing the victim. Three years ago, didn’t you try everything to drug Julian and get into his bed? Did you not know he was married then?” Vivian’s face drained of color. “Yes! I admit I was wrong back then, but I was desperate to save my family’s company! Only Julian could help me! I had no choice! And I was punished for it!” “Oh really?” I sneered, about to tear her apart verbally, when Julian barked, “That’s enough, Seraphina!” He stared at me, his face grim. “Vivian and Oliver were publicly humiliated at the mall today by some random thugs. They called her a mistress and called my son a bastard. You hired them, didn’t you? If you’re mad at me, take it out on me! Using such disgusting tactics against a woman and a child… don’t you think you’ve gone too far?” I froze. Looking at the pure accusation in Julian’s eyes, a freezing coldness swept from the soles of my feet to my chest. What was he saying? He thought I hired people to humiliate Vivian and his son? How absurd! I was the one who had been lied to, drugged into infertility, betrayed, and humiliated. Yet, in his eyes, I had somehow become the vicious villain, bearing the weight of his baseless accusations. Julian frowned deeply. “Sera, I know it’s hard for you to accept Vivian and Oliver. But everything is my fault. I’m the one who hid her away. I’m the one who made the contract for the baby. Vivian never wanted to steal my heart. If you have anger, throw it at me. What is the point of targeting her and a two-year-old child?” His words pierced my eardrums and stabbed into my heart. Looking at the man I had loved for six years, the man I thought I would grow old with, I felt only a profound sense of disgust and exhaustion. I curled my lips into a bitter smile. “Julian, you tampered with my daily supplements, making me infertile for six years. I thought my own body was broken, living in constant guilt and pain. You cheated on me, had a child with another woman, hid them in another city, and enjoyed a secret family. Now, you’ve dragged your mistress and bastard into the spotlight, making me the laughingstock of the entire city. And you have the audacity to call me cruel?” Julian’s brow furrowed, his face incredibly cold. “Sera, I will explain all of this to you later. But do not call Vivian a mistress. She isn’t one.” “She’s not a mistress?” I was about to spit back a retort when a sudden commotion erupted around us. “Look, Julian Sinclair and Vivian Sterling are over there!” “The wife is here too!” “Quick! Get the cameras!”

Seraphina’s POV A swarm of paparazzi rushed out from the shadows, surrounding us instantly. Under the blinding flash of the cameras, Julian’s expression changed. His very first instinct was to violently shove me forward, using my body to block the lenses, while he quickly pulled Vivian into his arms, wrapping his designer suit jacket around her head to shield her. “Move!” He shielded Vivian, pushing through the crowd. I was thrown off balance by his shove. My forehead slammed hard against the sharp metal edge of a paparazzi’s heavy camera. A sharp pain exploded in my head. Warm blood instantly flowed down my forehead, staining my eyelashes and blurring my vision in one eye. I clutched my head, my hand instantly covered in thick, warm blood. In the midst of the chaos and dizziness, I raised my eyes, searching for that familiar figure through the gaps in the crowd. In the past, whenever we were in a crowded place, Julian would always pull me into his arms immediately, shielding me from the world. But now, all I saw was his back as he carefully ushered Vivian into the passenger seat of his car. He was so protective, so desperate to keep her safe. He didn’t even turn around to look at me, the wife he had shoved to the ground, bleeding and surrounded by vultures. He just drove away, leaving me behind. When did he start changing? I wondered dizzily as the paparazzi screamed questions at me, pushing their microphones into my face. Was it when Vivian drugged him? Or did he simply never love me as much as I thought? Swallowing the bitterness in my throat, I forced myself to stand and pushed through the suffocating crowd. I went to the hospital alone, got my forehead stitched, and dragged my exhausted body back to the villa, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep. I don’t know how much time had passed when I heard footsteps approaching. A cool hand, carrying a familiar warmth I once craved, gently touched the bandage on my forehead. “How did you get this cut on your head?” Julian’s voice echoed in the dark room, carrying a hint of genuine worry. I snapped my eyes open. The next second, before he could pull me into his arms, I pushed him away with all my might. “Don’t touch me,” I said coldly. “You disgust me.” The air in the room froze instantly. Julian’s hands hovered in mid-air. The warmth in his eyes slowly turned to ice. “I disgust you?” He let out a low, humorless laugh. “Seraphina, you’re a high school dropout. You married me and enjoyed a life of luxury because of me. If I hadn’t protected you all these years, do you really think you could have lived so peacefully as Mrs. Sinclair?” He leaned down, his shadow towering over me with suffocating pressure. “I only wanted a child of my own bloodline. What did I do wrong?” Every word felt like a poisoned needle, piercing the most vulnerable part of my heart. A high school dropout. This had actually become the weapon he used to humiliate me today. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I forced them back, my chest aching. I didn’t drop out of school because I was stupid or lazy. Quite the opposite. I was a straight-A student, on track for a full scholarship. But during my senior year, my parents died in a horrific car crash, leaving behind massive debts. The predatory lenders practically invaded my parents’ funeral, threatening to desecrate their graves if I didn’t pay. I had no choice but to drop out, working three jobs a day, dragging myself through the mud just to survive. Six years ago, Julian met me while I was working at a coffee shop. He pursued me relentlessly, promising to pay off all my debts if I stayed with him. At the time, I had rejected him. “I didn’t even finish high school. I don’t fit into your world.” But he had held my hand, looking into my eyes with pure sincerity. “Sera, I love you, not your resume. I don’t need a wife with a prestigious degree to secure my status. The only thing I want in this life is you.” I hadn’t believed him at first. Not until a speeding car had hurtled toward us, and he had thrown his own body to shield me, taking the impact himself. That was the moment I believed that a savior had truly entered my dark world. Looking back, maybe his love was real then. But now, he simply didn’t love me anymore. “Since you think my education is too low for me to carry your child,” my voice trembled. “Why did you pursue me so desperately back then? Why did you go through the trouble of swapping my medicine?” “You made me live in guilt and misery for six years. You made me think I was the broken one.” I looked up, tears spilling over. “Julian, if you had just said the word, I would have happily walked away. I would have divorced you and handed the title of Mrs. Sinclair to Vivian.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “430108”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

Everyone in the Sicilian underworld knew it. Adrian Moretti was the youngest godfather in the Moretti family. For five years, he had held Chloe in the palm of his hand, spoiling her until everyone knew it. Everyone said he loved Chloe more than his own life. Until their son’s birthday, when Chloe accidentally saw a medical file. From that moment on, she realized her life might not be as perfect as it looked on the surface. A husband she had loved for five years. A secret of unknown origin. Missing memories. All the truth was buried under lies. When she tried to uncover it all, she realized she had already stepped into a carefully woven net. And the man who kept saying he loved her was far more dangerous than she had imagined. When love and possession, salvation and destruction, arrived at the same time. Would Chloe break free from the cage and walk toward a new life? Or would she be dragged back into that abyss full of blood and lies? And the man willing to give his life to protect her. Could he really lead her out of the dark?

Chloe POV “Chloe, you did so well. It’s a boy.” When the smell of disinfectant rushed into my nose, Adrian held my icy hand and spoke in a gentle voice. I forced my eyes open. The baby in my arms had his eyes shut, and his cries were faint. But my head was heavy and foggy. I couldn’t remember the tearing pain of labor, couldn’t remember the details of carrying the baby for nine months, and even what happened before I entered the delivery room felt like it was hidden under a thick fog. But the moment I looked down at the child, my heart still softened against my will. I instinctively held him tighter, as if he were the most important thing in my life. Until that day, when Adrian flew to Naples and said there was an important shipment he had to receive in person, with no return date set. The huge estate suddenly fell quiet. With nothing to do, I went to the study to tidy up the things he had not had time to organize before leaving. In one corner of the desk sat a black tablet, Adrian’s dedicated device for handling overseas affairs and confidential files. He must have left in a hurry and forgotten to take it with him. I was just about to lock the tablet in the safe when the screen suddenly lit up and a private message from a medical center popped up. I thought it was just a routine medical archive notification, so I tapped it without thinking. Then a document titled Medical Custody Authorization Agreement appeared right in front of me. On the patient name line, it clearly read Elena Rossi. That name stabbed into my nerves like a needle. She was the Bellini family’s youngest daughter, and also Adrian’s first love. Back when she found out Adrian was going to marry me, she kept harassing me like a madwoman, even staging a car accident in an attempt to make me disappear. After Adrian saved me, the Moretti family had her driven out of the country and banned her from ever coming back. Over the years, Adrian had never once brought her up on his own. But now, her medical file was on Adrian’s private device. I forced myself to stay calm and kept scrolling: Informed consent for emergency C-section, postpartum hemorrhage resuscitation record, intensive care record… The family signature line was Adrian’s handwriting. I would never mistake it, and the surgery date was the very same day I gave birth. Same time, same medical center, and then the blank memory in my head from when I delivered the baby. All the scattered pieces snapped together, and an icy sense of wrongness instantly swept over my entire body. My hand started shaking. I took out my phone and called Adrian, wanting to ask him clearly what was going on. But the receiver only played a cold robotic voice. “The number you dialed is turned off. Please leave a message after the tone.” After the call automatically ended, my mind only grew more chaotic. I headed straight for the private dock behind the estate, wanting to make sure he had really left Sicily. Just as I got close to the deck, I saw a black yacht slowly pull into shore. The next second, a familiar figure appeared. Adrian carefully supported a weak woman. I knew that face all too well. It was Elena. My heart sank little by little, and I instinctively retreated quickly into the shadows between two rows of shipping containers. They walked over the gangway, and their voices grew clearer and clearer. “The doctor said the C-section incision heals slowly. You need to rest properly and stop running around all the time.” Adrian draped his coat over her shoulders, his movements so gentle it hurt to look at them. “Does it still hurt?” Elena shook her head gently with red eyes. “I just couldn’t relax. I wanted to see Leo with my own eyes.” Leo. That was the name I had given my child. My whole body turned cold, and Adrian’s next words shattered every fantasy I had left. “Don’t worry. Chloe is taking very good care of him. She even loves this child more than you do now.” Elena swayed and leaned weakly against his shoulder. “But what if one day she finds out the truth?” A confident smile curved Adrian’s lips. “Relax. I’ve already cleaned up every trace that needed to go. She won’t know.” “But the baby was born by me…” Elena choked softly. “I know.” Adrian pulled her tightly into his arms. “It’s better for everyone if the child stays at the estate. Chloe will raise him for you.” The sound of waves crashing against the shore rang dull and heavy, but my mind went completely blank with a buzzing roar. I slowly crouched down and covered my mouth hard, not daring to make a single sound. All these years of Adrian’s tenderness and promises suddenly became a joke. He didn’t love me. He just needed someone who would never question the truth to raise the child he had with another woman. The sea wind grew colder and colder, but my thoughts had never been so clear. Then I suddenly remembered something. Back when Adrian’s grandfather had just passed away, I helped sort through his belongings and found a folded medical report of Adrian’s tucked between the pages of his diary. In the diary, his grandfather had handwritten: Adrian had suffered a gunshot wound when he was young, and his reproductive system was severely damaged. The chance of natural conception was practically zero. Because it involved the family’s honor and the godfather’s dignity, he worked with the family doctor to hide the truth. Not a single person in the family knew. Later, when I successfully “got pregnant,” I naturally assumed it had just been a misdiagnosis. But now that I thought about it, if that report was true, then Leo’s existence itself was a huge lie. I took out my phone, contacted an underground fixer, arranged a new identity, and urgently applied for overseas residency. After I gave one last look at the two people embracing in the distance, I turned and left. The sea wind lifted my long hair and scattered the last thread of attachment with it. That secret buried for so many years, I would uncover it myself and treat it as the final farewell gift I gave Adrian. I couldn’t help but start looking forward to it. When he found out that the heir he had destroyed another life to protect wasn’t his own blood, what kind of reaction would he have?

Chloe POV After I returned to the estate, I went straight to the nursery. Leo was lying in his crib, crying nonstop. I stood by the bed and looked down at him, but Elena’s face kept flashing through my mind. So similar. They were so damn similar. Even the way they frowned when crying was exactly the same. I had never doubted it before. But now, looking again, there were flaws everywhere. The emotions I had been suppressing all night suddenly surged up. I reached out, my fingertips hovering above the crib. Even I didn’t know what I was about to do at that moment. Just then, an exclamation came from behind me. “Mrs. Chloe!” The nanny rushed in quickly. She scooped Leo into her arms at once and looked at me with obvious caution, as if I were some kind of dangerous person. “What are you doing?” I looked at her coldly. “Give me the child.” But the nanny instinctively took a step back. “Leo just woke up, I can calm him down…” “I said, give me the child.” My voice turned completely cold. The atmosphere in the room instantly stiffened. At that moment, the sound of a car pulling into the driveway came from outside. A few minutes later, Adrian appeared at the nursery door. His eyes swept over everyone in the room before finally settling on Leo in the nanny’s arms. “What happened?” The nanny visibly relaxed and quickly explained what had just happened. By the end, her voice had grown softer and softer. Adrian was silent for a moment, then spoke in a flat tone. “Chloe would never hurt the child. She’s kinder than anyone. I don’t want to hear that kind of thing a second time.” The nanny’s face turned pale, and she immediately lowered her head to apologize. Adrian walked over to my side, wrapped an arm around my shoulder, and the gesture was intimate and natural. “What’s wrong? Have you been tired from taking care of Leo lately?” I didn’t answer. I just looked at him quietly. If I hadn’t heard those truths with my own ears, I probably would have gone on forever without doubting this man. But Adrian acted like nothing had happened and ordered a maid, “Bring the lady’s calming supplement.” Soon, the maid came back with a silver tray. On it sat a dark medicine bottle and a cup of warm water. Adrian personally placed them in front of me. “I had the doctor adjust the supplement formula again. It’ll help with postpartum recovery.” I looked at the bottle and suddenly remembered how, starting at some point, Adrian would tell me every night to take it on time. He said it would improve my sleep and stabilize my emotions. “Do I look really off lately?” I asked slowly, lifting my head. Adrian froze for a moment, then gave a helpless smile. “You’re just a little sensitive. All women after giving birth are like that.” “Don’t put too much pressure on yourself.” He said it so naturally, as if he were really a considerate husband. “Take it and get some rest early.” He poured out two pills and placed them in my palm. His eyes never left me. I obediently put the pills in my mouth, took a sip of water, and quietly pressed the pills under my tongue. Seeing me take them, Adrian clearly relaxed. The moment he looked at his phone, I lowered my head and spat the half-melted pills into the hidden pocket inside my sleeve. “It tastes a little bitter today.” I set the glass down. “Maybe because the formula changed.” He adjusted my shawl for me. “Don’t overthink it. Go to sleep early.” I nodded and went back to the bedroom without looking at him again. Late at night, I lay in bed and couldn’t fall asleep no matter what. Those words at the dock kept echoing in my head like a curse. I don’t know how much time passed before the mattress suddenly shifted slightly. Adrian slowly sat up, his movements very light, as if he were checking whether I was asleep. A moment later, the door was gently shut. I opened my eyes right away and followed him out without making a sound. I watched him go down the west corridor and head to the deepest part of the wine cellar. That place was always locked in ordinary times, and even the servants were forbidden from coming near it. I hid in the shadows and watched him stop in front of a row of wine racks, then reach out and turn one of the bronze statues. The next second, the entire wine rack slowly split open to both sides. It revealed a hidden entrance to a room tucked behind the wall. My breathing stopped instantly. I had no idea the wine cellar was hiding a place like this. Adrian didn’t hesitate at all and walked straight in. The wine rack hadn’t fully locked back into place. There was a very narrow gap left in the middle. Through that gap, I saw the interior of the secret room lit up brightly. It didn’t look like storage at all. It looked more like a carefully arranged private suite. The person inside heard the footsteps and rushed straight into Adrian’s arms. “I thought you weren’t coming tonight.” She looked up at him, her tone carrying a hint of grievance. “It’s so tiring having to wait until she falls asleep every night just to see you. She didn’t suspect anything, did she?” Adrian lowered his head and kissed her forehead. “No. Just hold on a little longer. I gave her a new formula.” Elena leaned into his arms. “That’s good. Come in. I miss you so much I’m going crazy.” The two of them tangled together tightly, kissing each other fiercely. I stood outside the hidden door, and it felt like all the blood in my body had frozen at once. So the calming supplement every night was really a drug that dulled the mind. So my husband waited until I fell asleep every night, then slipped underground to meet his mistress. I thought the night at the dock had already been cruel enough. Only now did I realize that the truly disgusting truth was far uglier than I had imagined. I didn’t sleep at all that night, and by the time Adrian came back, it was almost dawn. He called me to wake up in his usual gentle voice and pressed a good morning kiss to my lips. “Chloe, let’s go to the riding stables this afternoon and clear our heads. The doctor said equine therapy is good for postpartum recovery, and some light activity will help your body too.” I didn’t refuse. I just nodded lightly. “Sure.”

Chloe POV In the afternoon, just after walking into the riding stables, Adrian raised his hand and pointed to a figure not far away. “Chloe, this is the riding therapist I hired for you.” I followed his gaze, and my heart tightened all at once. Elena was wearing a black riding outfit, her long hair tied back, looking capable and sharp. She gave me a gentle smile. “Mrs. Chloe, I hope we can work well together.” I didn’t respond. I just nodded calmly, as if I had never seen her before. Adrian seemed very satisfied with this harmonious atmosphere. “Elena has worked for the Equestrian Association all these years. She’ll take good care of you.” After saying that, he turned and took a seat on the viewing platform. Before the riding session began, Elena took the initiative to step forward and check my gear, carefully inspecting the saddle and reins. Her movements were skilled and natural. Once everything was ready, the training officially began. Elena personally led my horse, patiently explaining the movements. She looked very professional. But when we entered the obstacle area and passed a wooden fence, the saddle strap suddenly loosened and slid hard to one side. I didn’t even have time to react before my body lost balance and I was thrown off, crashing heavily to the ground. A sharp pain swept through my body, and my ears buzzed loudly. Through the daze, I heard cries of alarm all around me, followed by a rush of hurried footsteps. Adrian ran over. But his first reaction wasn’t to check on me. It was to grab Elena’s hand. “What happened? Are you hurt?” Elena’s eyes immediately turned red, and she looked frightened and guilty. She lifted her palm. Somehow, a raw cut had been rubbed into her hand by the reins. “I just noticed the saddle was a little loose. I was worried the horse would get spooked and hurt Mrs. Chloe, so in a panic I grabbed the reins too hard and scraped my hand… but I still couldn’t steady it, and she fell off.” Adrian’s expression changed drastically, and he immediately checked her wound. “Idiot, this isn’t your fault. You didn’t need to risk yourself like that.” His voice was full of concern. And I lay on the ground, my back burning with pain, not even able to stand up. Only when someone nearby reminded him did Adrian finally look at me. “Chloe, are you okay? I’ll take you to the medical center right away.” He hurried to my side and lifted me into his arms. Then he turned back and said in a deep voice to his men, “Take good care of Ms. Elena. Her injuries are serious. Send her to the medical center too and treat her wound immediately.” I weakly leaned against Adrian’s chest, clearly feeling the steady, powerful beat of his heart, just like every time he had held me before. But now I only felt cold. Cold to the bone. How did this man do it? One second he was worried about another woman, and the next he could act like a devoted husband to me. I slowly closed my eyes, and my heart was left with nothing but emptiness. I suddenly thought that if I had really died from that fall at the stables, maybe that would have been a kind of release.

Chloe POV At the medical center, the results came back quickly: A superficial abrasion on my arm, a minor fracture in my tailbone. Not a serious injury, just bed rest and recovery. Adrian stayed by the bed, his brow never relaxing. “Will there be any lasting damage? How long will recovery take? Will she be in pain at night and unable to sleep?” The private doctor answered each question one by one. Anyone who saw that scene would think he loved me to the core. After confirming all the injury precautions, Adrian arranged for a car to take me back to the estate. By evening, the estate had become lively again. Countless cars drove into the front courtyard of the main house. Important members of the major families arrived one after another for Leo’s christening party. The whole estate was brightly lit, and faint music from the band and the sound of guests talking drifted up from downstairs. Because I was injured, I stayed alone on the second floor to rest. Before leaving, Adrian pulled the blanket up around me. “Rest well. I’ll come back to keep you company after the banquet.” The door closed softly, and the large bedroom fell quiet again. Half an hour later, a maid walked in carrying a silver tray. “Mrs. Chloe.” She lowered her head respectfully. “The old lady was worried you’d feel upset about not being able to attend the banquet, so she specially asked the kitchen to prepare your favorite dessert and send it up.” I glanced at it and didn’t think much. Sophia didn’t like me, but she cared a great deal about the family’s image. She always made sure the surface work was done perfectly. I casually picked up a pastry and took a bite. The maid stood where she was, as if she had been watching my reaction the whole time. After seeing me eat it, a trace of barely noticeable relief flashed in her eyes, and then she quickly left. Not long after she was gone, I suddenly felt that something was off. At first, it was just a tightness in my chest. Very quickly, breathing became difficult, my heart started beating faster and faster, and it felt like something was blocking my throat. I froze hard. There were hazelnuts in that pastry, and I had been severely allergic to hazelnuts since I was a child. I braced myself against the bed and struggled to stand, then staggered toward the door. The hallway was empty. The servants had all been sent downstairs to the banquet hall. I held onto the wall and moved forward step by step, my breathing becoming more and more labored. At last, I reached the circular corridor on the second floor. Holding the railing, I looked down. The guests below were laughing and talking with glasses of champagne in hand. Elena was sitting on a sofa, and the wound on her hand seemed to have split open again. Doctors, bodyguards, and servants stood around her. Almost everyone was gathered by her side. And Adrian was crouched in front of her, bending his head to adjust the bandage on her hand. He looked focused, his movements gentle, and the sight made my eyes sting painfully. I tremblingly took out my phone and called Adrian’s number. The ringtone sounded downstairs. I could see it clearly. After he took the phone from his suit pocket, he only glanced at it indifferently and put it back. Then he went right back to lowering his head and fixing Elena’s bandage. My hand slowly dropped, and my breathing became harder and harder. The lights in front of me started to blur.

Chloe POV When I opened my eyes again, it was already the afternoon of the next day. Adrian was sitting by the hospital bed. When he saw me wake up, he leaned forward excitedly and grabbed my hand, his expression full of guilt. “Chloe, you’re finally awake. It was all my fault. I didn’t answer the phone in time last night, and that’s why you almost got hurt.” I looked at him quietly as he acted, but in my mind, the image of him ignoring my desperate call for help last night kept flashing over and over. “Where is the maid who brought the dessert?” I asked softly. Adrian’s eyes turned cold. “She’s already been dealt with. The person investigating will make her tell us who was behind it.” After that, he put on a gentle expression again. “Chloe, I promise you, I won’t let anyone hurt you again.” Listening to his soft words of comfort, I only felt disgusted. He said a few more soothing things, then glanced at his watch, got up, and said, “A shipment just arrived at the dock. It’s a batch of rare red wine brought back from a vineyard in France. I have to go inspect it myself.” As he spoke, he tucked the blanket around me. “I’ll come back to keep you company when I’m done.” After saying that, he bent down and kissed my forehead before turning to leave. The hospital room door slowly closed. I looked at his back and gave a slight curl of my lips. These years, his excuses had always been the same. After leaving the medical center, the car stopped in front of the main house of the estate. Servants at the entrance were busy carrying wooden crates back and forth. In the living room, Adrian’s mother, Sophia, was sitting on the sofa holding Leo, and Elena was sitting right beside her. “Look,” she said with a smile as she handed Leo to Elena. “This child loves being held by you the most. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were his mother.” Laughter immediately broke out all around them. Elena’s cheeks turned slightly red as she carefully took the child. And Leo really did quiet down, obediently lying in her arms. That scene hurt my eyes. Only when someone noticed me standing at the door did the laughter in the living room stop abruptly. Sophia’s face stiffened for a moment, then she spoke as if nothing had happened. “Why are you back? Just in time. Since you’re fine, go to the wine cellar and bring me my prized red wine.” Sophia lifted her teacup, speaking in a flat tone like she was ordering a servant. “Elena just came back from overseas. We’re having a welcome dinner tonight. Don’t keep the guest waiting.” I said nothing and turned to leave. The underground wine cellar was at the deepest part of the main house, and I walked down the stone steps. Following the location Sophia had given me, I headed toward the innermost wine rack. I took down the bottle of red wine and was about to leave. Then I heard it. High heels clicking on the steps behind me. Slowly. Closer. I turned around. Elena was standing not far away, a faint smile on her face. “Sophia was right. Leo really does like me. That part is just like his father.” My hand tightened around the bottle, but I ignored her and walked straight toward the door. As I passed by her, Elena suddenly snatched the red wine from my hand and smashed it hard onto the floor. Bang. The bottle shattered, and bright red wine instantly flooded the ground. Then, she let herself fall down right along with it. “Ah!” A scream echoed through the wine cellar. “Chloe, I already apologized to you! Why won’t you let me go?” At almost the same time, the cellar door was pushed open. Adrian rushed in quickly. Elena became even more wronged when she saw him. But the next second, Adrian put away all emotion and walked straight toward me. “Chloe, are you okay? Did you get hurt anywhere?” I looked at him and said nothing. After checking me over, Adrian finally turned to Elena. His voice was cold enough to frighten anyone. “Elena, didn’t I tell you not to be alone with Chloe?” Elena’s face went pale. “I just wanted to explain things to her…” “Get out.” Adrian cut her off immediately. Under his icy stare, Elena could only stand up and leave with red eyes. Adrian reached out and pulled me into his arms. “Ignore her. The one I love has always been you. Don’t overthink it. Trust me. I’ll handle everything.” Those familiar words sounded again, and all I felt was laughter, bitter and hollow. After speaking, he turned around, took another bottle of red wine from the rack, and handed it to me. “Take this upstairs first. This batch just came in from the Luke family. I need to check the handover documents. See you later.” With that, he turned and left. His footsteps faded away, and the wine cellar fell quiet again. I didn’t leave right away. A few minutes later, when I passed the private tasting room, familiar voices came from inside. “I’m so sick of this. Why is it me hiding away?” Elena cried out in grievance. “I was also a victim of that car accident. Why won’t anyone believe me?” Adrian gently patted her back and soothed her. “Don’t cry. I know you’ve been wronged. I’ll investigate the truth and give you justice. After this is over, you won’t have to hide anymore.” I stood at the door and listened quietly. If this was the love Adrian talked about. Then I would rather never have had it at all.

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My billionaire parents publicly announced to the high society crowd that I, the biological daughter of the Andrews family, was actually just an adopted child. Mrs. Gable, our nanny, leaned against the doorframe, stabbing her words directly into my heart. “So what if you’ve been back for ten years? Your parents look down on you from the bottom of their hearts. The family shares, the company, the real estate—everything belongs to Evie.” “They’ve never missed a single birthday for Evie. But what about yours?” She sneered, her eyes filled with contempt. “An uncultured country bumpkin like you is only fit to be an adopted daughter who gets nothing.” I said nothing. But the floating comments in front of my eyes were flashing like crazy: [Don’t believe her! Every time your dad finishes yelling at you, he sits in his study all night! Your mom cried holding your childhood picture at midnight!] My mind was still stuck on the phrase “gets nothing”. There is no such thing as “unspoken love” in this world. Where the money is, that’s where the love is. I learned this truth when I was very young.

My father found me in a quiet corner with his assistant. Without a word of explanation, he slapped me across the face. His face was pale, his voice dripping with impatience. “Why are you throwing a tantrum here? Is a stupid title really that important to you? Do you have to make us a laughingstock in front of our guests?” “Rain, I honestly wish you had died out there.” I stumbled and fell against a passing waitress. The wine glasses on her tray shattered onto the floor along with me. My father’s face stiffened. He coldly ordered the waitress to help me up, then turned around to call the family doctor. Listening to his anxious voice, I felt dazed for a moment. [Look, your dad’s eyes are red! He must feel so guilty. He wishes the doctor could fly here right now to treat your wound. And this dress—your mom picked it out specifically for you!] [They were angry at you for being disappointing, but seeing you hurt, they couldn’t help but feel heartbroken. What a great pair of parents!] My father turned around to say something, but his assistant, Mark, stopped him. “Sir, Mrs. Andrews and Evie are waiting for you to cut the cake.” The tension on his face instantly melted into a warm smile. When he looked back at me, his eyes had returned to their usual coldness. “Forget it. If you don’t want to go in, then don’t.” “You look like a mess anyway. Going in would only embarrass us. Go back to your room.” Before leaving, he thought of something and pointed toward the back of the house. “If you’re hungry, go make something in the servants’ kitchen. Don’t show your face in the front yard.” I lowered my head, whispered an agreement, and walked toward the small kitchen. This was the kitchen reserved for the house staff. Because of the massive party these past few days, the servants had been eating in the main hall. No fresh groceries had been bought for this kitchen. Inside the fridge, there was only stale, molded food. It looked utterly revolting. My stomach burned with hunger. I reached out to grab the only decent-looking dish left, but a few flies landed on it. The sight made me sick to my stomach. “Forget it. I’m not eating.” I clutched my stomach and turned around, only to run right into my glittering, diamond-adorned mother. She furrowed her eyebrows, looking at me with disgust. “Was the food in the banquet hall not enough for you? Are you a starving ghost? Or are you trying to make our guests think Arthur and I are abusing you?” She glanced at my hand clutching my stomach. “What? Did you overeat? How did I end up with a daughter like you?” [Her mom was worried and came looking for her, only to see her daughter scavenging for food in the servants’ kitchen!] [No wonder she’s disliked. On such an important day, she has no sense of propriety. Can’t she just bear a little hunger?] I ignored the floating comments. I stiffened my posture and walked past her toward my room. Behind me, my mother muttered a few more curses before hurrying away in her high heels. When I reached my room, the sound of fireworks boomed outside. I looked up through the window. The brilliant lights in the night sky formed words: “Happy Birthday, Evie.” Evie. That was supposed to be my name. And today was my birthday, too. My stomach pain grew sharper. The cut from the shattered wine glass was oozing blood. I sat on the cold floor, pulled out my battered old phone, curled my legs tightly, and played a birthday song. Happy birthday to me.

I was brought back to this family when I was twelve. My parents didn’t like me. But the floating comments kept telling me they just didn’t know how to interact with me. They said blood is thicker than water, and no parents could ever hate their own child. Just like the first time we met. They looked at my shrinking, timid posture and spoke with disgust. “Greet us. Why are you so rude?” “This child is too cowardly. She can never handle big responsibilities.” I gripped my sleeves, my whole body trembling. Then, the floating comments appeared for the first time. [Is this the real daughter? She looks so unlikable and gloomy.] [Why hasn’t she noticed that her mom’s eyes are swollen from crying? Her dad is so nervous he keeps checking his watch. They’re just too tense, so they use criticism to hide their affection. In reality, they want nothing more than to run over and hug her!] I froze. I quietly observed their micro-expressions. Finding that they matched the comments, I ran forward crying and hugged them. “Mom, Dad.” My mother’s eyes welled with tears. My father kept a stern face. “It’s good that you’re back. Remember, children of the Andrews family do not cry.” They drummed this rule into my head for ten years. Until the year I graduated. I was at a restaurant celebrating with my classmates when a gas explosion tore through the shopping mall. The flames roared, and everyone ran for their lives. Because of my chronic malnutrition, I was knocked to the ground by the stampeding crowd. Surrounded by fire, I saw my father’s silhouette rushing in, and I heard my mother’s desperate screams. When I woke up, my mother was draped over my hospital bed. For a woman who was always perfectly put together, her eyes were swollen, and her clothes were a mess. My eyes welled with tears of gratitude. But my father, who was working on his laptop in the corner, looked up with deep disapproval. “Why do you always bring trouble to us? Why can’t you be more like Evie? Just stay home quietly.” “From now on, you are not allowed to go out without my permission.” The tears spilled onto my wrists. I let out a bitter smile. There was no comfort. No hug. Only a barrage of accusations. But I couldn’t have predicted the explosion. I had only gone out with friends to buy a thank-you gift for my parents. Forget it. It didn’t matter anymore. The comments kept scrolling. [Oh my god, don’t believe his cold words! Your parents ran to the mall like madmen when they heard you were trapped!] [They’ve been watching over you for days. He’s only saying this because he’s terrified of losing you again. If you don’t believe me, look at your dad. He hasn’t shaved in days!] [They already lost you once. They can’t bear to lose you again!] I strained to lift my head, but I only saw his hurried back as he walked out of the room. After that day, I stopped looking at what they did or listening to what they said. I clung desperately to those floating comments, feeding on the tiny drops of love hidden between the lines. I told myself they really loved me. They must love me, otherwise, why would they bring me home and give me this luxurious life? But love has tiers. They were business people. And business people never make a losing investment. Compared to Evie, who was clever, elegant, and beloved by everyone, I was like a swamp rat. I couldn’t understand the financial reports of the company, nor could I master their elite social etiquette. Even at a simple high-society tea party, I couldn’t bring any pride to my mother. Gradually, my father’s eyes turned to complete disappointment. My mother felt embarrassed to even walk beside me. To save face, they simply gave up on announcing my true identity. They let Evie remain the public’s one and only “biological” daughter of the Andrews family. I cried silently at night. The comments told me that in billionaire families, interests and alliances were the most important things. They said Evie was just a tool for business alliances. They told me to be understanding. But I couldn’t understand. I couldn’t accept that my own parents were letting a thief steal my life. Yet, that was the reality. Once I saw the truth, I became quieter and quieter. No matter how they treated me, I submitted to it all. I thought as long as I stayed in this house, I still had parents. But now, I was truly exhausted. What didn’t belong to me would never be mine.

The birthday song played on a loop. I stood up and began packing my bags. Over the years, my parents’ eyes had been entirely on Evie. They rarely bought anything for me. A single backpack was enough to hold all my belongings. It was so pathetic it made me want to laugh. Just as I was about to walk out, Mark knocked on my door. “Rain, Mr. and Mrs. Andrews had too much to drink at the party. They want you to make them some soup.” [They’re using the drunk excuse to give you a way out! Don’t be stubborn, Rain. Go see them.] [She’s the only one who can make these powerful billionaires bend their knees!] The comments were deeply moved. After all, when did the great Arthur Andrews and his wife ever bow their heads to anyone? If they wanted soup, a hundred people would line up to make it for them. I used to think like the comments, too. But now, I just found it incredibly tedious. “I’m sorry. I’m exhausted and need to rest. If they want soup, tell them to ask the chef.” Not long after Mark left, my door was kicked open. Reeking of alcohol, my father stood there, glaring at me with displeasure. “I provide you with food, shelter, and everything you could want. And now, when I ask you to do one simple thing, you refuse?” My mother looked past him at my backpack. Her face was lined with exhaustion. “Rain, why do you have to be so difficult? We already agreed on the identity issue. What are you throwing a fit for now?” Following her gaze, my father spotted the backpack. He strode over, grabbed it, and slammed it hard onto the floor. “If you hate this family so much, why did you even bother coming back? Stop throwing these pathetic tantrums!” Evie, who had followed them, gasped in dramatic fright. She quickly grabbed my father’s sleeve, speaking in a soft, sweet voice. “Dad, don’t blame Rain. It’s my fault. I stole her identity.” She then turned to look at me. “I’m so sorry, Rain. It’s all my fault. Please don’t fight with Mom and Dad. Dad even got a special cake just for you.” She waved her hand toward the door. Mrs. Gable walked in holding a gorgeous cake covered in a thick layer of fresh strawberries. My childhood trauma instantly flashed in my mind. I swiped my hand, slamming the cake to the floor. The white cream splashed everywhere, staining their expensive shoes and designer clothes. “Rain! Have you lost your mind?!” My father’s face contorted in rage. He raised his hand and slapped me again. “Your sister and mother went out of their way to get this cake for you! Who do you think you are, throwing a tantrum like this?!” This time, metallic-tasting blood seeped from the corner of my mouth. Evie’s face turned pale with faux terror. “Mom, look at Dad…” Tears welled in her eyes as she whimpered and hid in my mother’s arms. I stared at the bright red strawberries mashed on the floor. I crouched down and began to gag, tears streaming down my face. “Have you all forgotten what my foster parents did for a living?” My childhood was a nightmare of being forced to gorge on rotten, unsold strawberries from the Harpers’ failing farm. My mother’s breath hitched. She averted her eyes, unable to look. My father, however, only looked down at me coldly. “You’re just too petty. That’s why you can’t let go of the past. It’s just a cake. I didn’t force you to eat actual strawberries.” Didn’t he? I bit my lip so hard I almost drew blood, forcing back the tears. [Oh my god, the parents must feel so guilty! They wanted to make it up to her with a cake, but it triggered her trauma.] [I seriously can’t stand her. Her parents weren’t the ones who forced her to eat strawberries. Why is she blaming them for everything?] [They already lowered themselves to apologize. Can’t the female lead just make peace? I want to see a heartwarming family reunion!] The comments were unanimous in their condemnation of me. Yes, they weren’t the ones who forced me to eat those strawberries. But they were the ones who lost me in the first place. I wiped my face, stood up in silence, picked up my backpack, and organized my things. My father took a step toward me, but Evie suddenly screamed and stumbled backward. “This… this news… Rain, are you trying to ruin me?”

“What is it?” My mother caught her, looking at the phone in Evie’s hand. Her expression changed instantly. “Rain! Who gave you permission to leak your identity to the press? How dare you! Do you have any idea how much trouble this will cause the family?” “Since the day you came back, your father and I have treated you and Evie equally. We have never wronged you. You… you utterly disappoint me.” My father’s eyes widened as he glanced at the screen. He pointed a trembling finger at my face. “You ungrateful beast! Do you honestly think blackmailing me like this will make me acknowledge you publicly?” I looked straight into his eyes and smiled. “If you want to believe I did it, then so be it.” They stared at me in shock. My mother opened her mouth, but she couldn’t squeeze out a single word. [The parents must be so heartbroken. Do you know how much money and time they’ll have to spend to clean up this PR disaster? And the traitor is their own daughter!] [Rain, just apologize! They will forgive you!] Apologize? I was done apologizing. I swung the backpack over my shoulder, walked past my mother, and headed straight for the door. “You’re right. Coming back to this family was a mistake. Now, I’m correcting that mistake.” The room fell dead silent. Evie rushed forward and grabbed my arm, sobbing hysterically. “I’m sorry, Rain! I never wanted to steal anything from you! I just didn’t want to leave Mom and Dad. This is the only home I’ve ever known!” “Please don’t leave! If you leave, they’ll be heartbroken. Let me be the one to leave!” I turned my head. I caught the brief, triumphant smirk on her face right before she threw herself dramatically onto the floor. “Evie!” My mother screamed, dropping to the floor to cradle her. My father stood beside them, glaring at me with pure hatred. “Get out! If you walk out of this door today, I will consider myself to have no such daughter!” With that, he turned his back on me and knelt to comfort Evie. The comments in front of my eyes were scrolling at a manic speed. [How could the female lead say something so heartless? Things are already chaotic enough, and she’s still stabbing her parents in the heart!] [A child who wasn’t raised by her parents really can’t be tamed. Can’t she tell her dad is just speaking out of anger?] [Rain, turn back! Your parents are watching you! As long as you turn around, everything will be fine!] Fine? More than twenty years of crushing pain had accumulated on my shoulders, suffocating me. If they truly loved me, they wouldn’t have treated me with coldness, accusations, and the systematic stripping of my identity. I was a human being, not a lump of clay they could mold and discard at will. Stepping out of the mansion, I took a deep, long breath. The night air was crisp and clear. I could smell the faint scent of expensive food lingering from the banquet. Only after leaving the Andrews estate did I realize that it wasn’t raining outside. [Whatever, let her go. Why can’t she understand? They raised Evie since she was a baby. How can you expect them to just cut those emotional ties?] [If it were my family, I’d probably love the adopted daughter more, too. It’s just human nature. You can’t force these things.] [It’s good that she’s gone. Having her around the house was like having a miserable rat constantly dampening everyone’s happiness.] I didn’t bother reading those brain-dead comments anymore. Smiling, I walked out of the heavy iron gates, out of the elite gated community, and out of my pathetic past life.

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My boyfriend and I were the most talked-about game designers in the industry. The romance game we co-created, “Heartbeat Echo”, was about to launch. At the press conference, the investors asked us to put on the game’s matching heart-rate wristbands and play through the “Couple’s Synergy” level live on stage. Amidst the roaring cheers of the crowd, we easily made it to the final stage. The screen was about to flash the “Perfect Match” achievement. But a second before the completion animation played, the system’s cold electronic voice made an announcement. My heart rate was 135. His was 80. His heart didn’t even skip a beat for me. Maybe it was time for me to let go. The lights at the venue were so bright they made me dizzy. On the giant digital screen, the game characters Vincent and I designed were hugging tightly, celebrating the unlock of the “Perfect Match” achievement. Below the stage, the applause and cheers were deafening. “They are literally the perfect couple! So sweet!” “Heartbeat Echo” is going to be a massive hit!” But I was the only one who clearly heard that cold, mechanical voice just now. “Chloe, heart rate: 135.” “Vincent, heart rate: 80.” Eighty. That’s just the normal resting heart rate of an adult male. And we had just finished the final stage of the “Couple’s Synergy” level—a level we designed together. The animation on the screen kept playing. The heroine I designed had eyes shining with happiness, while the hero Vincent coded was leaning down to kiss her. But in reality, Vincent, standing right next to me, was completely calm. His heart didn’t even beat faster from the electric atmosphere in the room. Meanwhile, my heart was racing wildly, and my hands and feet were ice-cold. The host’s enthusiastic voice echoed through the microphone: “Incredible! As expected of our star Creative Director and Lead Programmer! Only a perfect couple in real life could make a game that understands love so deeply!” Vincent picked up his microphone and gave the crowd a slight smile. He said, “Thank you, everyone. We just did our job. The success of this game belongs to the whole team.” His response was flawlessly professional, drawing another round of applause. He didn’t look at me once. On my wrist, the heart-rate band felt like it weighed a ton. The flashing numbers silently mocked my spiked heart rate of 135. How pathetic. The very game I designed had used cold, objective data to slap me right in the face. After the launch event was the after-party hosted by the investors. I didn’t have much of an appetite, so I stood in a corner with a glass of champagne. Many people came over to congratulate me. I smiled and thanked them one by one, but my mind was completely blank. I saw Vincent surrounded by a crowd. Next to him stood a young, unfamiliar woman with short hair and black-rimmed glasses. She looked sharp and capable. She was talking to Vincent excitedly, and Vincent was listening intently, nodding from time to time. Our publisher, who was standing beside me, nudged my arm. “Chloe, that’s Bree, the new genius programmer. She just came back from studying abroad. She’s absolutely obsessed with Vincent’s next-gen rendering pipeline.” I followed his gaze. Bree was looking up at Vincent, her eyes filled with undisguised adoration. She said, “Vincent, your vision is so ahead of its time. If we can pull this off, it will completely revolutionize the industry!” A smile crept onto Vincent’s face—a smile I hadn’t seen in a very long time. He said, “It’s just an idea for now. Implementing it will be quite difficult.” “No, we can definitely do it!” Bree’s voice was firm. “You are literally the architect of this entire game’s universe!” The people around them let out a collective, friendly laugh. Someone joked, “Looks like Vincent has found his intellectual soulmate.” Vincent didn’t deny it. He just smiled. He finally noticed me, raising his glass in my direction as a brief greeting. Then, he turned right back to Bree, continuing their passionate discussion about technical details. The scene looked so harmonious, like a perfect painting. A painting that had no room for me. I downed my champagne, the bitter taste spreading from my tongue straight to my heart.

The after-party wrapped up around midnight. I stood at the hotel entrance waiting for my ride, the cold night breeze hitting my face. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Vincent. “Heading back to the office with Bree. There’s an issue with the server architecture that we need to optimize right away. Grab an Uber home.” I stared at the words for a long time. No asking if I needed a ride. No warmth. Just a cold work update. I replied with a simple “Okay,” put my phone away, and got into the Uber that pulled up. When I got back to our shared apartment, it was pitch black. I didn’t turn on the lights. I just sat on the couch in the dark for a long time. Every single piece of furniture in this apartment had been chosen by both of us. Our college photo was still hanging on the wall, showing us laughing brightly. But now, I was the only one left. I opened my phone and habitually scrolled through Instagram. A trending post popped up. Genius Programmer Couple Keyboards I clicked on it. It was a photo of two hands—one with sharp, masculine knuckles, and the other slender and pale—resting on two identical mechanical keyboards. The keyboards were a limited-edition run from a top-tier brand. Vincent and I each had one. But the other hand in the photo wasn’t mine. The caption read: “Overtime coding at the office. Working with my intellectual soulmate makes all the exhaustion disappear. #HeartbeatEchoRelease” The poster was Bree. The background of the photo showed our company’s iconic floor-to-ceiling windows and the city’s sparkling night skyline. The comment section was already blowing up. “Omg, is that Vincent’s hand? Who’s the other one? His girlfriend Chloe?” “Duh, Chloe’s hands don’t look that young. That’s obviously Bree, the new genius girl!” “So, the launch event was just for show, and this is the real deal?” “I’ve always said tech guys need to be with tech girls to actually have something to talk about.” I stared at the comments, my fingers clenching into fists until my nails dug deep into my palms. So, they weren’t optimizing server architecture. They were enjoying their private world as “intellectual soulmates.” And I, his official girlfriend, was sitting here looking like a complete fool. I stood up, walked into the study, and opened my laptop. The screen lit up, reflecting my pale face. I didn’t cry. I didn’t even feel angry. My mind was terrifyingly calm. I found our co-founder’s contact info and sent him an email. Subject: Resignation. The body of the email was only one sentence: “Due to personal reasons, I am resigning from my position as Creative Director of “Heartbeat Echo”, effective immediately.” After hitting send, I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes. My mind drifted back to five years ago. I had just graduated and already had a lucrative offer from Moonlight Games, a famous international studio. But Vincent had grabbed my hand, his eyes shining like stars. He had said, “Chloe, don’t go. Stay and help me. Let’s build our own game together—one that will make the whole world’s heart beat.” Looking at his dream-filled eyes, I chose to stay. I gave up a smooth career path and accompanied him, starting from a tiny three-person workshop to get to where we are today. We made it. Our game was about to be a massive success, and the company was heading toward an IPO. But the man who promised to create a heartbeat with me… his heart no longer beat for me.

The next day, I went back to the office to pack up my things. I didn’t have much at my desk—just a few books, a small potted plant, and a framed photo of Vincent and me. I slid the photo out of the frame and threw it into the trash can without a second thought. My coworkers looked at me in shock. “Chloe, what… what are you doing?” “I’m resigning,” I replied calmly. The news spread like wildfire. Within ten minutes, Vincent stormed into my office. He grabbed my wrist, his brow furrowed. “Chloe, what kind of tantrum are you throwing now?” His voice carried a hint of impatience. I shook his hand off and kept packing. “I’m not throwing a tantrum. I’m serious.” “Is this because of last night?” He looked at me as if I was being completely unreasonable. “Bree and I were just discussing work. As the Creative Director, you should focus on the project instead of letting these petty emotions get to you.” “Petty emotions?” I stopped what I was doing and turned to look at him. “Vincent, to you, your heart rate being 80 at the launch was a ‘petty emotion’? You ignoring me to chat happily with someone else at the after-party was a ‘petty emotion’? You guys showing off matching couple’s keyboards late at night in the office was a ‘petty emotion’?” My voice wasn’t loud, but everyone in the open-concept office heard it loud and clear. Vincent’s expression shifted. He grabbed my arm, trying to pull me out of the room. “Let’s talk outside.” “We can talk right here,” I said, staying rooted to the spot. “Let everyone hear how our brilliant Lead Programmer sacrifices his relationship for the ‘purity’ of the project.” He looked at me, his eyes filled with disappointment. “Chloe, I thought you understood me. Bree is incredibly talented. Her ideas can make our game perfect. I just admire her talent. Why do you have to make everything so dramatic?” “I’m making it dramatic?” I let out a bitter, mocking laugh. “Vincent, do you remember when we first started this company?” He blinked, startled. “Back then, I wanted to go public with our relationship. What did you say?” I answered for him. “You said, ‘We’re a startup. We need to keep a flat structure and avoid workplace romance so we don’t mess up the team dynamic.’” “And I believed you. I stayed by your side for five years as your ‘best partner.’ Everyone thought we were just highly compatible co-founders.” “But look at this now.” I pointed toward Bree’s desk nearby. “You’re totally fine letting the air get thick with tension between you two? You’re fine with people calling you guys ‘soulmates’?” “That’s different!” he defended himself. “Bree and I are just having pure technical discussions!” “Is that so?” I looked into his eyes. “Do your technical discussions require matching couple’s keyboards?” Vincent was completely silenced. His silence was the loudest answer. I packed the last of my things into the box and stood up, holding it. “Vincent, we’re done. From today on, we owe each other nothing.” I walked right past him, not giving him a single glance.

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The moment I stepped off the plane, I was blocked by my daughter, Barbara, whom I hadn’t seen in three years. She screamed at me in front of the entire crowd. “Robert, step up and be a father! Pay your child support!” “Mom works three jobs a day just to support me, while you ran off to Europe to live it up without sending a single dime! Are you even a man?” I was utterly stunned. I had been transferring child support to my ex-wife, Michelle, on the first of every single month, right on time. I had even left her the house, the car, and all of our savings. But now, she was playing the martyr who raised Barbara all on her own, while I was being painted as a deadbeat dad! This meant Michelle had not only pocketed all my money, but she was also spreading filthy lies about me! Fine. From that moment on, I decided to transfer the child support directly to Barbara. The result was predictable: Michelle, who had been secretly hoarding my money, completely lost her mind. After my divorce from Michelle, Barbara chose to live with her. To make sure Barbara would have a good life, I walked away with nothing. I only kept $5,000 from my personal accounts to cover my travel expenses for working abroad. Before my flight took off, Michelle sent me a text. “Child support is $1,800. Transfer it before the 5th of every month. Just make sure the money hits my account, and don’t bother coming back to disrupt our lives!” “Got it,” I replied. With a heavy heart, I boarded the plane. That departure lasted three years. After tasting all the bitters and sweets of working abroad, I finally built a successful business, let go of the past, and decided to return home. I never expected that the moment I walked out of the airport lobby, a fifteen-year-old girl would block my path. Even though it had been three years, I recognized her instantly. She was my daughter, Barbara. “Barbara? What are you doing here? Look at you, you’ve grown so much.” “Come on, let me take you out for a nice dinner.” Barbara violently shook off my hand, her eyes filled with nothing but pure hatred. “Robert, you’ve been living it up abroad for three years without paying a single cent of child support. Now you’re acting like a loving father?” “Do you have any idea how much Mom suffered to raise me? If you didn’t want to support me, why did you even bring me into this world?” Her words left me completely speechless. The people around us noticed the commotion and quickly gathered, whispering and pointing at me. “Look at him, dressed in a fancy designer suit, but he’s actually a deadbeat who abandoned his own daughter.” “Left his wife and kid to suffer while he enjoyed himself abroad without paying child support. What a coward.” “Take a video of him! Post it online! Don’t let this piece of trash get away with it!” Seeing the crowd taking her side, Barbara’s tone grew even harsher. “Robert, I came here today to get my child support. You are my father. It is your legal obligation to pay.” “If you don’t pay up, the moment I turn eighteen, I will sue you!” I rubbed my throbbing forehead and waved my hand to stop Barbara’s shouting. “Hold on, Barbara. You’re saying I didn’t pay child support? That’s impossible.” “The court ordered me to pay $1,800. But because I didn’t want you to struggle, I transferred $5,000 to your mother’s account on the first of every month.” “I have all the bank statements and WhatsApp chat history right here. Let me find them and show you.” Barbara was too emotional to listen to any explanation. “You’re lying! If you really sent $5,000 every month, why would Mom have to work three jobs a day? She barely even had time to come home!”

It took a lot of effort to finally calm Barbara down. I showed her the bank transfers and the screenshots of the WhatsApp messages I sent her mother after every transaction. “No… this can’t be real! You must have faked these documents to trick me!” “I have never seen a single cent of this $5,000. All I saw was Mom working three jobs, crying, and sighing in stress every single day.” “I only believe what my own eyes see. You can’t fool me!” Looking at the stubborn Barbara, I felt a mix of frustration and heartbreak. I could still vaguely remember how she used to cling to my leg when she was little, sweetly calling me “Daddy.” But after Michelle became a stay-at-home mom, Barbara changed. She stopped being affectionate. Instead, she grew to despise me, disrespect me, and take all my sacrifices for granted. When we divorced, Barbara chose Michelle without a single second of hesitation. I didn’t blame her back then. As her father, it was my job to be patient with her. So even though I was being publicly humiliated and slandered in front of a crowd, I kept my voice gentle. “Barbara, everything I’m saying is the absolute truth. If you still don’t believe me, we can walk right into that Chase bank branch over there and print out the official statements. The bank wouldn’t lie for me.” “I don’t know what happened at home while I was away, but there is absolutely no reason for your mother to work three jobs just to feed you.” “When we divorced, I left with absolutely nothing just to ensure you’d have a comfortable life.” “I left the house, the car, and over $400,000 in savings to her. Even if she didn’t work a single day, that money was more than enough to raise you until you graduated from college.” My explanation only made Barbara explode further. “Bullshit! Mom told me you ran off with all the savings and left her with a house that still has twenty years of mortgage! We only just finished paying off the car loan this year!” “Are you trying to say Mom is a liar? I’ve lived with her through thick and thin all these years. I know our financial situation better than anyone!” “If we really had $400,000 in savings, why couldn’t we even afford to buy fresh meat for dinner most nights?” “Why should I believe a father who abandoned his duties over the mother who gave birth to me and raised me?” Barbara kept calling me “Robert” with zero respect. I knew this was the result of Michelle’s brainwashing. Barbara was a victim too. Once she grew older, she would understand. I forced myself to swallow my anger and keep talking to her. “Barbara, calm down. I only took $5,000 for my travel expenses. You can verify this in the bank statements.” “The mortgage and car loans were paid off years ago. I have the official release documents on my USB drive. I can show you.” Barbara shook her head violently, refusing to look at my phone. “Mom told me a long time ago that you’re a liar! These must be fake documents you prepared in advance.” “I don’t care about your files! Just give me my child support!” The onlookers around us had stopped mocking me. Instead, they were looking at me with sympathy. They weren’t stupid. If I was confident enough to offer to go to the bank to check the records, I couldn’t be lying. Everyone knew where the truth lay. I let out a long sigh. “Fine, Barbara. I will pay the child support. But first, you’re coming with me to the bank to open your own account. From now on, I will only transfer the money directly to you.”

Walking out of the bank, Barbara kept refreshing her mobile banking app. Balance: $10,000.00. Even on our way to the restaurant, she kept secretly pulling out her phone to refresh the screen, terrified that the money would suddenly vanish. When we sat down at a high-end sushi place, she looked completely out of place and tense. My heart ached for her. I could only imagine what kind of miserable life she had been living for the past three years. I had left so much wealth for her before I left, yet Michelle had never even taken her out for a decent meal. I kept placing salmon sashimi onto her plate. “Eat up, Barbara. Order whatever you want. It’s on me.” After lunch, I took her to the mall and bought her several new outfits to replace her worn-out, faded dress. “It’s getting dark. Let me call an Uber for you so you can get home before your mom starts worrying.” Barbara nodded. Having eaten her fill and gotten new clothes, the hostility in her eyes had mostly faded. She looked at me with a complicated expression, her gaze conflicted and uneasy. “My mind is a mess right now… Is everything you said really true?” I gently ruffled her hair. “If you want to believe it, it’s true. If you don’t, then no amount of proof will ever make it true to you.” “I won’t try to force you to believe me anymore. Time will show you the truth.” This time, she didn’t push my hand away. While opening her bank account earlier, I had printed out all my bank statements from the past three years. My salary flows, the monthly transfers to Michelle, the child support history, and the mortgage release documents… Every single piece of paper proved I was telling the truth. Barbara’s world was visibly crumbling. I could see she wanted answers, maybe even wanted to lean on me for support. But I remained silent. Because back at the bank, when I checked her ID, I noticed something. Her name wasn’t Barbara Miller anymore. It was Barbara Dupont. I asked her when and why she had changed her last name. “Three years ago,” she said, her voice dropping. “Mom made me do it, and… I wanted to do it back then, too.” Her eyes had been filled with a defiant pride when she said that. At that moment, I felt a bond snap between us. I was still her father, and I would still pay her child support, but I could no longer offer her the unconditional warmth I had felt when I first saw her today. It felt as if she was no longer my Barbara, but someone else’s. Her Uber arrived. After adding my WhatsApp, Barbara remained quiet. I opened the car door for her and quietly slipped all the cash from my wallet into her backpack. “Go home. Text me when you get there. Listen to your mother, and if you ever run out of money, just WhatsApp me.” Barbara nodded silently. Watching the car drive away, I let out a long breath. I stood under the streetlights for a long time. The city’s sky looked the same, yet everything had changed. I checked into a hotel and bought a pack of cigarettes—something I hadn’t done in years. Just then, my phone rang. It was Michelle. The moment I swiped to answer, a deafening screech blasted through the speaker. “Robert! What the hell did you say to Barbara?”

Hearing Michelle’s voice after three years was just as irritating as ever. “Nothing much. Sounds like she made it home safely. I’m hanging up.” She immediately called back. “Robert! Why did you tell Barbara you were transferring $5,000 to me every month?” “Did I not? Why did you hide it from her?” Michelle’s voice went up ten octaves. “That money was what you owed us! The court ordered it! What does it have to do with you?” She was still as shameless as ever, twisted in her own sick logic. But she wasn’t Barbara. I had no obligation to tolerate her. “It’s my money, so how does it have nothing to do with me?” “The court ordered $1,800. I gave $5,000 because I cared about Barbara. That money was for her, not for you.” “Michelle, how could you have the face to pocket Barbara’s child support and then turn around and paint me as a deadbeat in front of her?” “Is this how you raise our child? You don’t deserve to be a mother!” A sharp, hysterical shriek came from the other end of the line. “I will raise my daughter however I want! It’s none of your business!” “And when did I slander you? Did you not leave us behind to go enjoy yourself in Europe?” “Did you care about her life or her education for a single second over the last three years? And who do you think paid for the bills and expenses around here? Me!” “How dare you say I don’t deserve to be a mother? You’re the one who doesn’t deserve to be a father!” “You didn’t take an ounce of responsibility, and now you’re lecturing me? The nerve of you!” She hadn’t changed at all. She still took credit for everything and blamed others for all her own failures. I took a deep breath, forcing down my rising anger. “We got divorced three years ago, Michelle. Your life has nothing to do with me. I have no obligation to support you.” “And you were the one who demanded full custody. Raising her is your job. I fulfilled my duty by paying child support.” “I left the house and the car to you, so of course you should be paying the bills. Why should I pay for your lifestyle?” “I gave you all of our savings and only kept $5,000 for myself. That barely covered my plane ticket and basic rent! Where the hell was I supposed to go to ‘live it up’?” Michelle, completely devoid of logic, sneered. “Just because we’re divorced doesn’t mean you stop supporting the family! Just because you gave me the house and car doesn’t mean you stop paying! Are you even a man?” “And you didn’t ‘give’ me those things out of the goodness of your heart! The court awarded them to me! They were mine to begin with!” She grew more hysterical, her voice dripping with self-righteousness. “And you only kept $5,000? Who are you trying to fool? Men never tell the truth!” “You probably hid a fortune from me! That’s why you ran away to another country, because you were afraid I’d find out!” After three years of building a life abroad, I thought I had developed thick skin. I thought I could handle anything with calm, rational arguments. But I was wrong. You can never reason with a madwoman. I only regretted not putting her in her place before we divorced. “Michelle, your twisted logic won’t change the facts. You’d better start thinking about how you’re going to explain this to Barbara.” “And the assets I left were meant for Barbara’s well-being. Since you clearly didn’t use them on her, I will see you in court.”

I bought a nice condo in the city center and got myself a decent SUV. Since my company was shifting its business focus back home, I couldn’t live in a hotel forever. Plus, this was my hometown. I needed a place to call my own. Shortly after I posted a picture of my new place on Instagram, a text from Michelle popped up on my screen. “Wow, three years abroad and you can already afford a luxury condo and a new car? And you still claim you only left with $5,000? What a joke!” “Don’t worry about suing me, because I’ve already contacted my lawyer. You hid and transferred marital assets during our divorce.” “I want my fair share. Transfer $200,000 to my account right now, or you’ll be receiving a court summons.” “If we go to court, it won’t just be $200,000 anymore.” I stared at the screen for a long time, making sure I wasn’t hallucinating. Michelle had gotten even crazier over the years. It was almost funny. “Go ahead and sue me, you psycho!” I replied. “I want to see if you can squeeze a single penny out of me!” “Don’t worry, I won’t miss the court date. I’ll be there.” I immediately blocked her number, refusing to waste another second of my life on her. Michelle had barely worked a day in her life. She had no idea how hard it was to make money, nor did she understand how quickly a motivated man could build wealth in three years. And working three jobs? Only a gullible kid like Barbara would believe that garbage. If Michelle had ever worked a single real job, she wouldn’t be this delusional. On the first of the following month, a random number started calling me repeatedly. The moment I picked up, Michelle’s shrill voice blasted through. “Where is this month’s child support? Why hasn’t it been transferred yet? Do you really want to watch Barbara starve?” “Send the money today, or I’ll file for a court order to freeze your accounts!” It seemed Barbara hadn’t told Michelle that I had already transferred the money directly to her. I decided not to ruin Barbara’s secret. “I will always pay child support. That is my duty. But I will never send another dime to you.” “From now on, all child support goes directly into Barbara’s account. Stop dreaming about touching it.” “Michelle, I don’t care that you lied about me to Barbara. You’re the one raising her, after all.” “You can make her feel indebted to you all you want, but how could you let her live in such poverty?” “I left you all the assets, and I sent you extra money every month. Is this how you take care of our daughter?” “She looks so thin and malnourished it breaks my heart. How could you do that to her?” My words seemed to strike a nerve, and she instantly lost her mind. “You think the tiny amount of money you sent is enough? Do you have any idea how expensive it is to raise a teenager? You have no right to lecture me!” “And how is she living in poverty? Did I starve her? Did I leave her naked?” “I carry all the stress of raising this child every single day, and you, a deadbeat who did nothing, think you can judge me?” Knowing it was useless to argue, I cut her off. “Michelle, I have nothing left to say to you.” “The child support will be paid, but never to your account. Do not call me again.” “No! She’s only fifteen! She can’t manage money! You have to transfer it to me!” I hung up and blocked the number, then sent a message to Barbara on WhatsApp. “Barbara, your mom just called me demanding child support.” Barbara replied almost instantly. “What do you mean? You promised the money was mine! Did you betray me?”

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It had been six months since my wife, Amelia, started cheating on me. Today, her assistant-turned-lover, Julian, showed up at my house, demanding I pack my bags and leave. I gave him a faint smile. “I’m not divorcing her.” “Amelia’s dad put thirty million dollars into a trust fund for me when we got married just to ensure my loyalty. You think your petty insults can faze me?” “If you’re so tough, get me a hundred million dollars so I can pay him back and walk away. Otherwise, shut up.” Julian’s face turned pale with rage. “Fine. I tried to give you a way out, and you threw it back in my face. You’re going to regret this!” The next day, he sent me a video on Snapchat. In the video, an elderly woman was tied up with ropes, dragged mercilessly behind a moving car on the gravel road. “Divorce Amelia, or watch your mother die.” I froze. I knew for a fact my mom was currently vacationing in Europe. I zoomed in and took a closer look at the screen. Holy shit. That wasn’t my mom. That was my mother-in-law, Mary!

When Julian’s video popped up on my Snapchat, I was in the middle of a thirty-million-dollar board meeting. Marcus, my father-in-law, had specifically put me in charge of this deal. He always said Amelia was too reckless and that I was the only one he trusted with the family empire. Over the past few years, Amelia’s parents had truly treated me like their own son. To repay their kindness, I did everything I could to be a perfect husband to Amelia. Not only did I quietly handle all her mess-ups at work, but I also took care of her health. Amelia had a weak stomach, so I drank in her place at business dinners. She hated having strangers in her personal space, so I personally cleaned our bedroom every single day after work. Even when her extended family pressured us to have kids, I took the blame for our lack of children just to shield her from the stress. In my mind, marriage was about building a life together and cultivating love over time. Until Amelia bluntly sat me down one day. “Julian and I are sleeping together. Keep this from my parents, Liam.” “Love isn’t a transaction. Just because you do things for me doesn’t mean I have to love you. And honestly, I don’t.” “If you find someone else you like, go ahead. I won’t stand in your way.” That day, I was shocked for a second, but I accepted it quickly. Our marriage had always been a match of convenience. After we married, Marcus and Mary’s mentorship allowed me to make massive breakthroughs in my career. Compared to chasing after a woman who didn’t love me, I cared far more about the opportunities and resources her parents gave me. So, I promised Amelia I would keep her secret as long as she didn’t do anything too humiliating in public. That was why I had never cared when Julian tried to mark his territory before. But this time, because I didn’t reply immediately, Julian started spamming my Snapchat. [Liam, if you don’t sign the divorce papers, I can’t guarantee this old lady is going to keep her arms.] I frowned, tapping into the chat, and the video started playing. The footage was blurry, but I could clearly see an older woman tied with ropes, being dragged behind a car. Panic surged through me. I quickly typed back: [Don’t do anything stupid. If you cross the line, Amelia and I won’t be able to bail you out.] Julian replied instantly. [Bail me out? She’s your mother. When she dies, just bury her.] My mom?! My mind went completely blank. I paused the board meeting, walked out of the conference room, and FaceTime’s my mom. My heart pounded violently with every ring. Just as the call was about to time out, she finally answered. “Liam, sweetie! Why are you calling me at this hour?” My mom’s voice was bright and relaxed. She didn’t sound like she was in pain at all. In the background, I could hear the bustling sounds of a Parisian café. I let out a long sigh of relief. Thank God, my mom was safe. But before I could even catch my breath, my chest tightened again. If the woman in the video wasn’t my mom, then who the hell was it?! I quickly made an excuse and hung up, then fired off a text to Julian. [You kidnapped the wrong person! That is not my mom! Let her go and get her to a hospital right now!] Thirty seconds later, Julian sent a voice note. A weak, agonizing voice gasped through the speaker: “My son is Liam… He won’t let you get away with this…” My entire body went numb. I froze on the spot. That was Mary’s voice!

I panicked and instantly texted Julian back. [That’s Mary! Amelia’s mother! Get her to a hospital right now, or you’re going to prison for the rest of your life!] But Julian didn’t believe a single word. He sent back a laughing emoji, followed by a wall of text. [You got lucky marrying Amelia, and now you’re actually delusional enough to think you’re the CEO’s real son?] [You’re just a glorified house husband. Know your place.] [You think you’re important to the company, but to the Donald family, you’re just a dog they keep on a leash.] [They don’t view you as real family!] If Julian knew anything about the Donald family, he would never have said that. Amelia was a wild child. Whenever she had free time, she was out partying, barely spending any time with her parents. I was the exact opposite. In my spare time, I loved sitting down with Marcus and Mary, talking about business strategies and management. My own parents lived abroad, so I gave all my free time to them. They genuinely loved me and called me their son. And because Mary had called me “son” to her captors, Julian thought she was my biological mother! I immediately hit the FaceTime button on Julian. “Julian, I swear to God, that is Mary! If anything happens to her, Amelia will destroy you!” On the screen, Julian smirked. “Oh, please, Liam. You’re just saying she’s Mary because you’re terrified I’ll beat your actual mother to death.” “Relax, I’m not a monster. Look, she’s perfectly fine.” He flipped the camera to show Mary. My heart stopped. Mary’s lips were turning blue, and her body was twitching. She was struggling to breathe. She had severe asthma. Under my care over the past few years, she hadn’t had a single attack. But now, she was on the verge of suffocating! Marcus had a weak heart, and his blood pressure had been dangerously high lately. I couldn’t tell him yet, or he might have a stroke. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to calm down. “Mary has asthma! She’s having an attack right now!” “Julian, call an ambulance! She is going to die!” Julian burst out laughing. “Didn’t you just say she wasn’t your mom? Now you’re begging me to save her?” “Liam, you’re so bad at lying. You broke so easily.” “If you want me to save her, get down on your knees and beg me. Do it, and I might consider it.” I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. Rage boiled in my veins. I knew this piece of trash was just trying to humiliate me. But if I delayed any longer, Mary would die! When I first joined the company, many senior executives refused to respect me. They tried to sabotage a massive deal to ruin my reputation. It was Mary who showed up at the client dinner, turned the tide, and secured the contract. Afterward, she fired every single executive who had bullied me. When Amelia complained about me, Mary told her that I needed time to grow. She mentored me, hand-in-hand, teaching me how to run the business. Without Mary, I wouldn’t be where I was today. On the screen, Mary’s face was turning purple. Julian sneered, “What’s the hold-up? Is her life not worth your pride?” “Guess you don’t care about your mommy that much after all.” I gritted my teeth. “I’ll kneel! Just promise you’ll save her!” He nodded, grinning. I got down on my knees right in front of the camera. “Please, save her.” Julian’s hysterical laughter echoed through the phone. I glared at him, my eyes bloodshot. “Now call 911!” Julian sneered coldheartedly. “If the ambulance comes here, it’ll cause a scene and ruin the company’s reputation. We can’t have that.” “But I’ll give you the address.” “370 Spring Road. Come and get her yourself.” “Don’t worry, your mom isn’t that fragile. This was just a warning. I don’t actually want her dead.” With that, he hung up. I rushed out of the office, speeding toward 370 Spring Road. On the way, I dialed 911, explaining Mary’s medical history to the dispatcher. Then, I spam-called Amelia. This was her mother. She had to know. But after ten consecutive calls, she didn’t answer. My car screeched to a halt in front of a private villa. The ambulance and I arrived at the exact same time. But Julian was standing at the gate, blocking the paramedics. He glared at me. “Liam, are you deaf? I said no ambulances! Do you want to ruin the company’s stock price?!”

I was shaking with pure rage. “Now you care about the company’s stock price?” “Why didn’t you think about that before you did something this brainless?!” Julian yelled back, “What did I even do?” “Let me tell you the truth. That video I sent you was a deepfake. I used an AI generator. There is no injured person inside.” “You idiot, take the ambulance and get the hell out of here!” Hearing this, the lead paramedic’s expression turned stern. “What’s going on here? Emergency resources are extremely tight. We don’t tolerate prank calls!” If the video was a deepfake, how did he get Mary’s face? Julian was lying to get rid of them. The nearest hospital was a forty-minute drive from here. If the ambulance left, I was terrified Mary wouldn’t survive. My heart hammered against my ribs. I turned to the paramedics. “She is inside, I swear to you!” Then, I glared at Julian. “This is a matter of life and death! Let them in, or I will call the police right now!” Julian laughed mockingly. “And tell the police what? That I sent you a prank video?” “Liam, I admit I was just trying to mess with you.” “Every time you act all lovey-dovey with Amelia in front of me, it makes me sick.” “But this is a private matter between us. I’ve already admitted the video was fake. Stop wasting medical resources and get lost.” Julian’s words made the paramedics look at me with suspicion. I was stunned. He was painting me as some jealous husband throwing a tantrum! Before I could explain, the paramedic asked Julian, “Are you sure there is no patient inside?” “If someone dies because you blocked us, you will be held criminally liable.” “I swear there is no one inside!” Julian said confidently. Believing him, the paramedics turned to walk back to their truck. I ran and blocked them. “I can prove she’s in there!” I stepped up to Julian and whispered, “Mary has a reddish birthmark on the right side of her neck. Think carefully—does the woman you took have that birthmark?” Julian’s smirk vanished. His eyebrows furrowed. He clearly realized the woman he captured had that exact mark. He immediately pulled out his phone and texted Amelia. [Liam said your mom has a red birthmark on her neck. Is that true?] Thinking about the ten missed calls, I said quietly, “Amelia is busy. She won’t reply to you.” But to my surprise, Amelia’s text popped up a second later. [I don’t think so? Why?] Julian let out a huge sigh of relief and smirked at me. “Nice try, Liam.” “The more you lie, the more it proves that the old bag inside is your mother.” “I wasn’t going to let her die, but you really pissed me off today.” “Now, I’ve changed my mind.”

Julian’s eyes glinted with malice. His voice was so low that only the two of us could hear it. The ambulance was about to leave, and I still didn’t have proof to make them force their way in. Just as I was about to call the police, Amelia’s call came through to Julian’s phone. “Why are you asking about my mom’s birthmark?” her voice echoed. Before Julian could answer, I snatched the phone from his hand. “Amelia! Your mother is having a severe asthma attack inside this villa!” “Julian is blocking the paramedics from going in! If we wait any longer, she’s going to die!” Amelia snapped instantly. “Liam, are you out of your mind? How dare you curse my mother!” “My mom is currently in Europe! How could Julian block her in some villa?!” “I bet your own useless mother is the one dying, and you’re trying to use my mom to get my attention. I’m not helping you beg Julian!” I froze. A cold dread washed over me. Amelia knew Julian was going after my mother. And she had approved of it! I clenched my jaw so hard my teeth ached. For years, I had treated her parents like my own family, and this was how she treated mine. Mary must have returned from Europe early without telling anyone, and Julian kidnapped her by mistake. To make Amelia take this seriously, I threatened her. “The company is at a critical stage. If this gets out and the stocks plunge, you know exactly what will happen to your inheritance.” That finally struck a nerve. Amelia screamed through the phone. “Liam! Are you threatening me?!” “I’m coming over right now. I want to see what kind of game you’re playing!” I finally breathed a sigh of relief. Standing next to me, Julian saw my sweaty, pale face and laughed. “You think Amelia will side with you when she gets here?” “Let me tell you something, she will protect me no matter what. Even if your mother dies here today, she won’t stay mad at me for long.” Just as Julian finished his sentence, his assistant ran out of the villa, panicking. “Julian! The old lady… she’s stopped moving!” The paramedic’s face turned serious instantly. He grabbed his trauma kit from the truck and ran toward the house. But Julian quickly slammed the iron gates shut. “What do you think you’re doing? This is private property! I’ll sue you for trespassing!” “Someone is dying in there!” the paramedic yelled. “So what?!” Julian yelled back arrogantly. “I said I’ll take responsibility! Are you deaf?!” The paramedics cursed at him for being heartless. But no matter what they said, and even though I called the police right in front of him, Julian kept the gates locked, looking completely fearless. My only hope was the police. But before the police arrived, Amelia’s sports car screeched to a halt. She stepped out, frowning at the ambulance. “Who called them? Having an ambulance outside my house is so bad for PR!” She walked over and glared at me. “You called them for your mother, didn’t you?” “Julian was just playing a little joke to blow off some steam. Why are you making such a big deal out of it?” “It’s not like she’s actually that fragile.” “If she’s really that weak, she wouldn’t have lived much longer anyway!” Hearing Amelia say this, Julian looked even more smug. He smiled and told his assistant, “Liam and these doctors really want to see the old lady. Go on, drag her out.” The assistant was fast. Within two minutes, he dragged Mary out of the front door and threw her onto the grass like a sack of potatoes. The paramedics tried to run forward, but Amelia stepped in front of them. “Let me see if she actually needs help first.” She walked toward the limp body on the grass with disgust. But the moment she saw the woman’s face, all the color drained from her cheeks, and she froze.

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