On our anniversary, my wife’s “surprise” turned out to be a green hat—a symbol of ultimate betrayal. Laughter erupted around us, yet her voice was eerily calm. “I’m pregnant. The child isn’t yours.” Cole Penn smugly wrapped his arm around her waist, his eyes glinting with defiance. “You’re a cripple; you obviously can’t do the deed. Just be a good little cuckold.” But what they didn’t know was that I was only pretending to be paralyzed to unmask the mole within the corporation. The mole hadn’t revealed themselves yet. Instead, I’d stumbled upon two clueless fools. 1 I smirked coldly. Then I backhanded them with the bankruptcy liquidation papers for the Lennox family’s holdings. Cole picked up the papers, glanced at them, then burst into a thunderous laugh. “Leo Lutz, are you out of your mind? Did you pay a few bucks for some fake documents and hire some actors to try and scare us?” Charlotte Lennox recovered from her shock, let out a long breath, and patted her chest. “Leo Lutz, you are truly a pathetic clown.” Charlotte pointed her finger at my nose and unleashed a torrent of abuse. “You’re a useless cripple who’s been paralyzed for two years, needing help even to relieve yourself! Where did you get the money to hire bodyguards? Bankruptcy liquidation? Do you think you’re the wealthiest man in the city?” I watched them, saying nothing. The front door slammed open again with a loud crash. My uncle, Robert Lutz, stormed in with dozens of thugs wielding iron pipes. “Get these annoying people out of my house!” Uncle Robert’s men immediately moved, swinging their iron pipes at the bodyguards I’d hired. My bodyguards retreated, leaving only Uncle Robert, Charlotte, Cole, and me in the living room. “Leo Lutz, you disappoint me greatly.” Uncle Robert walked up to my wheelchair, looking down at me. “You’re not just a cripple, your mind’s gone too. How can the Lutz Corporation be handed over to someone like you?” “Uncle Robert, what do you mean?” I stared at him. “I declare your last five percent of Lutz Corporation shares null and void.” Uncle Robert pulled out a stock transfer agreement and slapped it on the table. “Sign it.” Charlotte snatched the transfer agreement and slapped it directly onto my lap. “Sign it now!” Charlotte hissed. “You’re nothing now. Just accept your fate. The Lutz Corporation already belongs to Uncle Robert and Cole!” Cole wrapped his arm around Charlotte’s waist and kissed her right in front of me. “Leo, Charlotte’s baby needs formula money.” Cole looked at me provocatively. “If you hand over your shares, I’ll be merciful and let you stay with the Lutz family like a dog. We’ll even give you scraps.” I clenched my fists, suppressing the murderous rage building inside me. The big fish behind Uncle Robert hadn’t surfaced yet. It wasn’t time to reel in the net. “I won’t sign.” I refused. Uncle Robert slapped me across the face, a sharp crack echoing in the room. “You refuse a toast and ask for a beating!” Uncle Robert roared. “Do you think you’re still the powerful Lutz heir? You’re nothing but trash who can’t even stand! I can crush you like an ant!” Charlotte stepped forward, grabbing my hair and yanking my head back. “Leo Lutz, don’t push your luck. If you sign, I might let you stay. If you don’t, I’ll throw you out onto the street right now and let you beg for food!” “You wouldn’t dare,” I stared at Charlotte. “Watch me!” Charlotte shoved me, and my wheelchair slid backward, hitting the wall. Cole walked over and kicked over my wheelchair. I fell to the ground, feigning immobility. “Leo, is the floor comfortable?” Cole stepped on the back of my hand, grinding his shoe onto my knuckles. I endured the pain, not making a sound. Uncle Robert knelt, forcing a pen into my hand. “Sign,” he said, pressing my head down onto the transfer agreement. “Otherwise, I’ll break your other leg and you won’t even be able to sit in a wheelchair.” I bit my lip, signing my name on the transfer agreement. Uncle Robert collected the document with satisfaction, laughing as he left. Charlotte kicked me, her high heel digging into my ribs. “Get back to your room,” Charlotte said with disgust. “Cole’s sleeping in the master bedroom tonight.” I crawled from the floor back into my wheelchair, turning the wheels to leave. I had to endure. Once Uncle Robert’s deal with the overseas capital was solidified, I would make them wish they were dead. In the middle of the night, Charlotte kicked open my bedroom door. In her hand, she held a dog bowl and a thick dog chain. “Leo Lutz, get out.” Charlotte threw the dog bowl on the floor, producing a grating sound. I looked at her. Cole emerged from behind her, holding a spiked leather whip. “Leo, the master bedroom bed is too soft; Charlotte can’t get comfortable,” Cole cracked the whip in the air, a sharp snap echoing. “We’ve decided to take over this spare bedroom too.” “This is my room.” I gripped the armrests of my wheelchair. “Not anymore.” Charlotte walked over, grabbed my collar, and dragged me out of the wheelchair. I fell to the floor, my shoulder hitting the nightstand. Cole walked over and roughly fastened the dog chain around my neck, clicking the lock. “From now on, you’ll sleep in the doghouse on the balcony.” Cole tightened the chain, choking me. “Charlotte’s golden retriever just died. You’ll make a perfect replacement. From now on, you’re our family dog.” I reached up to pull at the chain around my neck. Cole lashed my hand with the whip, leaving a bloody welt. “Don’t move,” Cole sneered. “A dog should know its place.” Charlotte kicked away my wheelchair, pointing towards the balcony. “Crawl.” Charlotte commanded. I gritted my teeth, staring at them. Footsteps shuffled outside the door. Charlotte’s parents walked in. Mrs. Lennox saw me on the floor and rushed over, stepping on my back. “You useless man!” Mrs. Lennox shrieked. “You wasted three years of my daughter’s youth, and now you dare to cling to our home! People like you should just die!” Mr. Lennox walked to the closet and began rummaging through it, throwing my clothes everywhere. He found a wooden box, his eyes lighting up. “What’s this?” Mr. Lennox opened the wooden box. Inside was my mother’s emerald jade bangle, a family heirloom. “Put that down!” I looked up, roaring. “Oh, quite feisty.” Mr. Lennox took out the bangle, weighing it in his hand. “The quality is excellent. Could fetch a few million. Consider it compensation for the emotional distress you’ve caused the Lennox family.” “That’s my mother’s keepsake.” I stared at Mr. Lennox. “Your mother’s long dead. This thing is just going to waste,” Mrs. Lennox snatched the bangle and slipped it onto her own wrist. “It perfectly matches my new outfit today. Do you, a cripple, deserve something so fine?” I propped myself up with my hands, but Cole kicked me in the head, pinning me back down onto the cold floor. “Leo, don’t get excited,” Cole said, pressing his foot hard against my face. “You’re a cripple. Do you really think you can hit anyone? Can you even stand up?” Charlotte walked over, knelt in front of me, and slapped my cheek. “Leo Lutz, don’t blame me for being cruel.” Charlotte sneered, “Blame yourself for being useless. Cole can give me the life I want. What can you give me? A paralyzed body? You can’t even satisfy me!” “You’ll regret this,” I stared into Charlotte’s eyes. “Regret?” Charlotte threw her head back and laughed. “The word ‘regret’ isn’t in my vocabulary, Charlotte Lennox! Go ahead and publicly announce that you acknowledge the child in my belly as yours, otherwise, I’ll smash your mother’s jade bangle right now!” Mrs. Lennox obligingly raised her wrist, feigning a move to strike it against the wall. I closed my eyes, concealing the surging murderous intent within. “Fine,” I gritted out the word. “That’s more like it,” Cole released his foot, clapping his hands. “Remember to put on a good show at the banquet tomorrow.” The Lennox family and Cole left the room, laughing. I lay on the cold floor, pulling off the dog chain from my neck. I took out the miniature communicator hidden in my cuff. “Mr. Lutz, your uncle has made contact with the overseas capital,” came the voice of my confidant, Ryan, through the communicator. “Keep a close eye on them,” I said in a low voice. “I want all their transaction records, not a single one missed.” “Understood. Do we need to deal with the Lennox family?” “No,” I sneered. “Let them jump around for a few more days.” I wanted them to climb to the highest point, then crash into a bloody pulp. Three days later, the Lennox family hosted a grand banquet at the city’s most luxurious hotel. Ostensibly to celebrate Charlotte’s pregnancy, it was actually to announce Cole taking over a key project for the Lutz Corporation. Charlotte threw a ridiculous clown costume at my face. “Put it on,” Charlotte commanded. I emotionlessly put on the clown costume. Charlotte then took out a green hat and placed it on my head. “A lot of media will be here today,” Charlotte warned me. “You stay quietly in your wheelchair, don’t say anything out of turn, and do whatever you’re told.” Cole wheeled me into the banquet hall. The hall was packed with the city’s elite and journalists, camera flashes going off everywhere. Seeing me in my outfit, everyone began to whisper and burst into laughter. “Is that Leo Lutz? Why is he dressed like that? He looks like a clown.” “I heard he’s not only paralyzed but couldn’t even keep his wife. He’s a complete disgrace to the Lutz family.” “The child in Charlotte’s belly isn’t his at all, and he still has to swallow his pride and acknowledge it. What a pathetic cuckold.” Cole wheeled me to the center of the stage, exposing me to everyone’s gaze. Charlotte, in a couture gown, walked onto the stage arm-in-arm with Cole. “Thank you all for attending my banquet.” Charlotte took the microphone. “Today, I have two joyful announcements. First, I am pregnant, and the child is Leo Lutz’s.” Sparse applause, accompanied by undisguised mockery, rippled through the audience. “Second, Cole Penn will officially take over the Lutz Corporation’s Southside Development Project.” The entire hall erupted in an uproar. The Southside project was the lifeblood of Lutz Corporation. How could it be handed over to an outsider? Uncle Robert Lutz walked onto the stage, took the microphone, his face flushed with triumph. “This is the decision of the Lutz Corporation’s board of directors.” Uncle Robert loudly announced, “Leo Lutz is unwell and unable to perform his duties. Cole Penn is young and promising, the best candidate. From now on, Lutz Corporation’s operations will be fully managed by Cole.” Journalists immediately aimed their cameras at me, microphones almost poking my face. “Mr. Lutz, what are your thoughts on this? Have your shares been stripped?” “Mr. Lutz, did you put on that green hat yourself? Do you know about Charlotte Lennox and Cole Penn’s relationship?” Charlotte walked off the stage and shoved the microphone to my mouth. “Speak,” Charlotte threatened in a low voice. “Say what we taught you.” I looked at Uncle Robert in the audience. Beside him stood a blond-haired, blue-eyed foreigner. That was Mr. Smith, the liaison for the overseas consortium. The big fish had finally appeared. I averted my gaze and spoke into the microphone. “I support the board’s decision,” my voice was calm. “The child is mine, and I look forward to his birth.” The entire hall erupted in deafening mockery. “What a pathetic cuckold! His wife sleeps with someone else and he helps count the money!” “The Lutz family is completely finished. Leo Lutz is an utter failure.” Cole smugly patted my shoulder and walked in front of me. “Everyone heard that, right?” Cole said loudly. “Leo is very generous. To thank him, I’ve decided to toast him.” Cole raised a glass of red wine and walked towards me. He suddenly “slipped,” splashing the entire glass of red wine all over my clown costume, letting it run down my face. “Oops, my bad, my hand slipped,” Cole feigned apology, his eyes full of malicious amusement. Charlotte picked up a basin of foul-smelling water and walked up to me. “No worries, a little wash will fix it,” Charlotte said, pouring the water over my head. The stench instantly permeated the air. People around us covered their noses and recoiled. Journalists frantically clicked their camera shutters, capturing my most humiliating moment. “Leo Lutz, drink it,” Cole pressed his foot on my wheelchair, lowering his voice. “Otherwise, I’ll have someone dig up your mother’s grave right now and scatter her ashes.” I looked up, staring at Cole. “You wouldn’t dare.” “Watch me.” Cole pulled out his phone and played a video. In the video, several men with shovels stood before my mother’s tombstone, their shovels already raised. I clenched my fists, my nails digging deep into my palms, drawing blood. Charlotte shoved the basin to my mouth. “Drink it!” Charlotte yelled. “Drink every last drop!” I opened my mouth and swallowed a mouthful of filthy water. The entire hall erupted in even wilder laughter and whistles. After the banquet, Cole threw me into the hotel’s underground parking garage like a piece of trash. Charlotte and Cole got into a car. “Let’s book a presidential suite at the hotel tonight to celebrate,” Cole said, his arm around Charlotte, his hand roaming inappropriately. “Why bring this useless man?” Charlotte looked at me with disgust. “He’s stinking and dirty.” “He’s still useful,” Cole sneered. “My sister’s eyes can’t wait. His corneas are a perfect match.” I looked up. They were planning to take my corneas. “Then hurry up and do it,” Charlotte urged. “His eyes sicken me. Dig them out and feed them to dogs as soon as possible.” Cole started the car and drove me to a secluded private hospital. Uncle Robert Lutz was already waiting outside the operating room. “Is the agreement ready?” Cole asked. “It’s ready,” Uncle Robert handed over a voluntary organ donation consent form. Cole dragged me from the wheelchair and threw me heavily onto the cold floor. “Sign it,” Cole shoved the pen into my hand. “Don’t make me do this by force.” I looked at Uncle Robert. “Uncle Robert, to seize power, you’d even gouge out your own nephew’s eyes?” I challenged. “You’re a cripple. What good are your eyes?” Uncle Robert showed no remorse. “Cole’s sister needs her sight. You’d be doing a good deed, making a contribution. Sign the papers, and I’ll leave you a complete body.” “I won’t sign.” I snapped the pen and threw it on the floor. Charlotte walked over and kicked me in the ribs, making me grunt in pain. “Do you think you have a choice?” Charlotte pulled out a sharp scalpel. “If you don’t sign, I’ll personally gouge them out right now! No anesthesia. I’ll make you suffer worse than death!” Uncle Robert waved his hand. Several burly men rushed over, forcibly lifted me, and strapped me to the operating table with thick leather straps. Cole took out his phone and started recording. “Leo, smile for the camera,” Cole aimed the phone at my face. “To prove you’re donating voluntarily.” Charlotte, holding the scalpel, slowly approached my eyes. The tip of the blade touched my eyelid, a cold sensation. “Leo Lutz, don’t blame me,” Charlotte sneered. “Blame your bad luck. In your next life, don’t be a cripple.” I closed my eyes. Faint footsteps sounded outside the operating room door. I opened my eyes, looking at Uncle Robert. “That foreigner, he’s Smith, isn’t he?” I suddenly asked. Uncle Robert’s face changed. He turned to look at me. “How do you know?” Uncle Robert asked, startled. “I also know you plan to package and sell the Southside project to Smith in exchange for a billion in overseas funds,” I said, my voice calm, as if discussing something unrelated to me. Uncle Robert rushed over, grabbing my collar. “Who told you?” Uncle Robert yelled. “What else do you know?” “Not only do I know that, I also know your overseas account has been frozen.” I looked into Uncle Robert’s eyes, enunciating each word. Cole put down his phone, frowning. “Uncle Robert, don’t listen to his nonsense. How could a paralyzed cripple know any of this?” Cole urged. “He’s just stalling for time. Charlotte, do it! Gouge out his eyeballs!” Charlotte raised the scalpel, aiming for my eyes.

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1 Three years after my childhood sweetheart vanished, I finally caught a scent of her. My assistant held the photo, his voice hesitant. “Mr. Kingston, should we go now?” I paused, a foot already lifted, and slowly shook my head. “No need.” My thoughts drifted back to the beginning. Not long after the hero appeared, my childhood sweetheart mysteriously disappeared by the ocean. When I saw her again, she had lost all her memories, her world revolving solely around the man who had rescued her from the waves. Jealousy gnawed at me. I subtly engineered his downfall, forcing him away, but never expected it would lead directly to a horrific car accident. She became volatile, raging at me for my despicable tactics and dark heart, even declaring that even if her memories returned, she would never choose me. Her revenge was relentless, driving my family’s company to the brink of ruin. “The debt you owe will be repaid with the entirety of Kingston Enterprises,” she’d sneer. “You got what was coming to you.” Her words were like venom-tipped ice picks. Ultimately, in a car crash caused by brake failure, we both plunged into the ocean, bringing it all to an end. … I gave up searching for Rose King. But a year into this new timeline, she still returned. Friends in our circle threw her a lavish welcome-back party. I had just returned from a business trip, dragged along by a buddy who mysteriously promised me a surprise. The moment I walked in, there she was, Rose King, surrounded by a crowd. Due to her amnesia, she exuded an aura of coldness and detachment towards everyone around her. Our eyes met, and someone excitedly pointed at me, asking her: “Ellie, even if you’ve forgotten us, you must remember Felix, right?” “You two grew up together, even promised to be together forever.” All eyes in the private room shifted to me. Rose looked over, neither confirming nor denying, only repeating slowly after a brief silence: “Felix.” Seeing her reaction, everyone probably guessed the truth and laughed to lighten the mood, consoling me: “Felix, Ellie hit her head and forgot all of us.” “But the doctor said there’s still a chance her memory could return… Even if it doesn’t, at least she’s safe and sound, that’s a blessing, isn’t it?” Their words were tactful, probably to spare my feelings. Then, as if to bridge the gap between Rose and me, everyone started chattering about our past. “When you disappeared at sea, Felix was the most devastated.” “He was the only one who believed you were still alive, searching everywhere for you.” “Man, you never know what life throws at you. If it wasn’t for that accident, you two would be married by now.” He wasn’t wrong. Rose and I had been betrothed since childhood. Before her disappearance, we had even set a wedding date. Instead of a wedding, I got her silent disappearance into the vast ocean. Her last words to me had been: “Felix, I’m so excited for our wedding.” Years later, bringing it up again only brought a sense of melancholy. Holding my drink, I played along with the reunion atmosphere, smiling at Rose. “Welcome home.” But she looked at me and said: “I didn’t come back to honor an engagement.” “I have someone I love.” I knew. I knew that a year ago when I found her. She loved Liam Thorne. Back then, after countless disappointments, it was the only time I had seen her alive and real. The long-held sadness and a sudden burst of joy mingled, almost bringing tears to my eyes. I rushed over, grabbing her arm, choking out her name: “Rose King.” All I got was her shaking off my hand and an unfamiliar question: “Do I know you?” I tried to suppress the bitterness rising in my heart, patiently explaining that we were childhood sweethearts, betrothed since birth, and that she had fallen from a cruise ship three years ago. Afraid she wouldn’t believe me, I pulled out a photo I always carried – a picture of her celebrating my birthday with me. I pleaded cautiously: “Please, come back with me first. Let a doctor examine you, and then I’ll slowly tell you everything, okay?” “Your leg is injured, it needs treatment soon.” More than her amnesia, I was concerned about her slightly limping right leg due to the injury. But before I could hear her answer, a man suddenly appeared, his voice trembling as he asked her: “Are you going to leave me?” The boy’s shirt fluttered in the sea breeze, his short hair casually falling across his forehead, like a sea sprite. This wasn’t my first time on this island, nor my first time seeing him. I had come here the day after Rose disappeared, going door-to-door with that same photo. Back then, he had blocked me at the door, glanced at the photo, and said: “Never seen her.” Only then did I realize I’d been deceived. Anger flared, and I couldn’t help but accuse him: “You lied to me.” He shook his head timidly, his tear-filled eyes turning to Rose. “I didn’t mean to. She was already hurt, and I was afraid you were a bad guy, going to hurt her again. I’m sorry…” Rose walked over, shielding him behind her, and casually tossed the photo at my feet. “It’s just a photo. Why should I believe you?” The wind was strong by the sea, and I couldn’t grab it in time, watching helplessly as it was swept away by the waves. Rose’s soft voice, reassuring him, carried on the wind: “I won’t leave you, ever.” So, the one who would be left was only me. To persuade her to return, I had to stay on the island. Every day, I tried to help her recall her past. But she remained indifferent. Driven by Liam’s anxiety, she grew even more disgusted with me, warning: “Take your made-up stories and get lost!” Two weeks later, I stormed onto her fishing boat, somewhat losing control as I yelled at her: “Even if you don’t care about yourself, what about your grandmother?” “Do you know she had a heart attack from worry after you disappeared at sea?” “She’s still in the ICU, waiting for you to come home!” Rose’s hand, holding the fishing net, froze. Her tone was flat: “What does that have to do with me?” “All I know is, now Liam is my only family… and my love.” Just then, a wave surged, and the small boat rocked violently. Rose instinctively gripped Liam’s wrist, then watched me fall from the boat, swallowed by the waves. Seawater rushed in, and every organ ached. Combined with days of exhaustion, I fell into a three-day coma. When I woke, my assistant rushed to tell me: “Mr. Kingston, Ms. King and… that boy left by boat.” “The bodyguards you asked me to arrange are ready. We can still catch them if we leave now.” I stared blankly out at the clear blue sky, remembering the nightmare of being engulfed by the waves. Influenced by my parents, I had learned the art of persuasion and coercion from a young age. Since reasoning with Rose was futile, I had already planned to have bodyguards forcibly bring her back. In the previous life, I had indeed done so. Even amidst Rose’s fierce resistance, I had agreed to bring Liam back with her. Unfortunately, she still didn’t get to see her grandmother one last time. Doctors said her amnesia was due to a head injury and they couldn’t determine when her memory would return. But her right leg received treatment and slowly recovered. During Rose’s three-year disappearance, the position of King Group heir had fallen to her half-sister. The ability to reclaim it was likely due to my steadfast commitment to the engagement, holding her place for her. Weighing the pros and cons, they naturally didn’t want to give up the opportunity for a strong alliance with the Kingston family. After that, I accompanied her, helping her refamiliarize herself with company affairs, naively believing we could return to how things were. Until I saw her and Liam kissing. I had to face the facts I had deliberately ignored. The photos my assistant sent were all of them in intimate moments. Watching fireworks together, shopping, holding hands on walks… I tortured myself by looking through every single one, then, like any villainous male lead in a romance story, I secretly found Liam, without Rose knowing, and threatened him: “I hear your father’s surgery was a great success. You wouldn’t want her to know her son is playing the role of a homewrecker, would you?” “Of course, you saved Rose’s life, and we’re all very grateful.” I pushed a check across the table to him, smiling. “Savior or homewrecker, the choice of identity is up to you.” Liam looked at me, pale, then suddenly laughed: “Felix, you’re just clinging to that engagement, aren’t you?” Yes, I was clinging to that engagement. Rose and I were childhood sweethearts, well-matched, and had promised to be together forever since we were kids. Why should he be able to come in later and take my place? I was convinced Rose would love me once her memories returned. But I never expected Liam to get into a car accident with that check. He was severely injured and lost the baby. When I rushed to the hospital, I happened to overhear him, his eyes swimming with tears, apologizing to Rose: “Ellie, I’m so sorry… I know you’ve remembered that I was the one who caused your head injury and amnesia…” “It’s okay if you don’t forgive me. It was all my fault, consider it my karma.” I stood outside the door, unsure at that moment which revelation hit me harder. That Rose had regained her memory long ago. Or that her amnesia was actually caused by Liam. The check smacked against my face, pulling me back to reality. All my emotions eventually coalesced into a single, bewildered sound: “Rose?” Her eyes, full of malice, stared at me, her voice mocking as she accused: “Happy now? Because of your disgusting ‘love,’ you almost cost someone their life!” “Do you think I’ll like you now that I’ve regained my memory? I’m telling you, Felix, I won’t.” “I’ll only be more aware than anyone of your dirty tricks and malicious heart.” A life lost. It erased the rift between her and Liam; the cause of her amnesia was forgiven. And our childhood friendship completely shattered; I became the killer. She said Liam had grown up on the island, pure and kind. Unlike me, who grew up in the cutthroat world of business, full of schemes. Rose scoffed: “What makes you think I’d ever like someone like you?” So, she conspired with rivals to set up Kingston Enterprises, using every dirty trick to bankrupt my family and plunge us into massive debt. It was to break off the engagement, clearing the path for Liam. And also to get her revenge on me. Rose, arm around Liam, condemned me with the tone of a judge: “Felix, you deserve this.” It was probably like all happy endings in love stories—the hero and heroine living blissfully, while the villainous male lead loses everything. Until, finally, he loses his life too. Due to brake failure, Rose and I both perished in the sea. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day she and Liam were escaping by boat to get away from me. My assistant tapped on the tablet, looking at the location, and seeing me suddenly freeze, cautiously asked: “What’s wrong, Mr. Kingston? Are we still going after them?” I shook my head. “No, we’re not.” After Rose fell into the sea, the search and rescue team looked for her for seven days and seven nights. Everyone believed she was dead. Only I refused to give up, searching for three more years. Then I discarded the files and left the island. To this day, I hadn’t told anyone I found her. Meeting her again now wasn’t entirely unexpected. After all, according to the timeline, Liam’s father should be gravely ill around now. Whether it was medical resources or surgical expenses, she would have to recall the identity I had once told her. So Rose’s return truly wasn’t about honoring an engagement. A few seconds of silence filled the private room. Everyone exchanged glances, then slowly realized. The person she loved was Liam Thorne, her savior. After a brief lull, the room buzzed with chatter again. Someone joked: “Makes sense, a life debt should be repaid in marriage, right?” “Speaking of which, that kid’s got guts, just hauling some strange grown woman home.” I listened calmly to their teasing, suddenly remembering that in the previous life, after my family went bankrupt, Liam had actually sought me out. He was still dressed in white, his short hair neat and clean, smiling cheerfully at me. “When Rose was washed ashore, she wasn’t suffering from amnesia at all. She even asked me to borrow my phone to call her fiancé.” “Unfortunately, some cargo happened to fall from a nearby freighter. She pulled me out of the way, but got hit herself. When she woke up, she had amnesia. I told her I saved her.” “Oh, and when you came looking for me with that photo, she was lying right there in my house.” He laughed, his expression innocent. “Felix, you and her were childhood sweethearts, and you had a well-matched engagement. This was a chance given to you by fate.” “Then her injury and amnesia, that was a chance given to me by fate.” And Rose, whether before or after regaining her memory, chose Liam. Just like now, she frowned slightly in dissatisfaction: “I chose to stay myself.” My friend paused, then explained with a smile: “We all understand what you mean, you don’t need to worry about the engagement.” “Everyone thought you were gone back then, and it’s been four years now.” “Your engagement with Felix was canceled long ago.” It was canceled the moment she was presumed dead. I had just stubbornly dragged it on for three years. But unlike the previous life, this time I hadn’t forcibly brought her back from the island. The private room was still lively. Holding my drink, I met Rose’s inexplicably probing gaze, curving my lips slightly, and calmly told her: “Yes, the engagement is off.” “Rose King, you’re free.” A few days after the welcome-back party, I went to King Group for a collaboration meeting. As I stepped out of the elevator, I saw her half-sister snatch a document from Rose’s hand, saying casually: “Sis, your leg isn’t healed yet. You should go to the hospital and rest. I’ve got things covered at the company.” “If Grandma saw you like this, she’d be heartbroken. She was waiting for you until her last breath.” Her tone held a hint of regret, yet also a subtle smile, as she said each word: “Sis, you came back too late.” Rose’s gaze was cold, and she scoffed: “What? Afraid I’ll come back and snatch your position?” Her sister shrugged indifferently, spreading her hands: “The position is right here. Whoever can grab it, gets it.” In truth, both women were equally capable. But since childhood, Grandmother King had doted on Rose the most; while she was alive, Rose was the undisputed heir. Now, however, she was gone, and Rose had been missing for four years. Times had changed, and anything was possible. I passed by them, remaining uninvolved, my gaze casually sweeping over Rose’s slightly limping right leg. In the previous life, after I forcibly brought her back, I spared no expense, consulting experts domestically and abroad, to cure her leg. The doctor had said then: “Any later, and bone necrosis would have been difficult to treat.” Now, she was standing here a year later. I wondered if it was too late. After finishing the meeting, as I left, I saw Rose downstairs. Her gaze fell directly on me; she was clearly waiting. “You knew all along?” I stopped, turned my head to look at her, and smiled frankly. “Yes, I knew all along.” “But I told you, Rose.” A year ago, when I found her on the island, I had repeated it many times. Her grandmother was critically ill, her sister would steal her rightful place, everyone was waiting for her to come home. But at the time, she had said to me, uncaring: “What does that have to do with me?” “Liam is the only one I care about.” Back then, she wouldn’t come back because she wanted to be with Liam. Now, she had returned, but it was to save Liam’s mother. I felt a little perplexed, wondering why she was now asking me with an accusing tone, so I gently reminded her: “Rose, you said it yourself, you didn’t care.” In the silent confrontation, she suddenly scoffed mockingly: “When you found me back then, you spoke of our feelings as if they were so profound, and now, barely a year later…” “Ha, Felix, your ‘love’ isn’t all that much either.” No sooner had she spoken than someone nearby suddenly called out: “Rose!” It was Liam. He jogged over to Rose’s side, looking at me somewhat nervously, then happily wrapped his arm around her, smiling: “My dad’s woken up! He said he’s really grateful to you.” Rose’s expression softened. Her gaze flickered over me, then she looked down at Liam, saying: “It was the least I could do, and besides, you saved me once too.” “I’ll go with you to the hospital to check on him again.” Liam’s smile abruptly stiffened. The evening sun was fading, and I had no interest in watching their display of profound affection. Before leaving, I simply threw out one last sentence, a reply to her: “Times change, and so do hearts.” My love wasn’t all that much. Then I wished them well. Liam’s father has already had his surgery and woken up. So, it won’t be long until her memories return…

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Today marks my third year as Rowan’s captive. He changed overnight. He ripped out every security camera in the bedroom. Wiped his phone completely clean. Then he pulled open the heavy oak doors of the estate. His face was a blank mask. He told me he did not need me anymore. He told me to go home. Home? I had lived here for three years. Without this place, I had nowhere else to go. I stood frozen in the doorway. My hands felt utterly useless. I wondered if he was sick. I reached out to press my palm against his forehead, checking for a fever. But the second my fingers neared his skin, he flinched away. My hand hung awkwardly in midair. My entire body went rigid. Then his voice came, completely devoid of warmth. He told me he was wrong in the past. He never should have locked me up against my will. He said he had already bought an apartment for me downtown. He would wire twenty million dollars to my account as compensation. Finally, he said we should never see each other again. He wanted to live a normal life. 1 The ice-cold words smashed against my ears. But I heard nothing. The world just faded into static. For Rowan, it was love at first sight. Three years ago, my mother fell critically ill. I was drowning in medical debt. He stepped in and pulled me from the edge. His only condition was that I stay by his side. I did not love him back then. I only prayed he would get bored of me and let me go. But I never expected the man known to the public as the ruthless devil of Wall Street to treat me with such overwhelming tenderness. When I felt suffocated, he flew me across the globe. When I mentioned I loved dancing, he spent a fortune custom-making my ballet shoes. During a vacation that year, a sudden earthquake struck. Our hotel collapsed. He shielded me entirely in his embrace. The crumbling roof shattered his ribs. I sobbed until I could barely breathe. He just kissed away my tears and joked with a bloody smile. “What are you afraid of? When I die, you can finally leave me. You should be smiling.” My heart ached for him. I surrendered to my fate. I stayed quietly by his side. Three years passed. My universe had shrunk until it only contained him. Now, I did not take the bank card he offered. My fingers twisted together nervously. “You are not feeling well. Just rest early.” I turned and fled back to our shared master bedroom. This time, he did not follow me. That night, I waited in bed for a very long time. Rowan never walked through the door. Usually, he was addicted to my body. He was obsessed. He would crawl onto the mattress and kiss me with religious devotion, from my toes all the way up to my neck. Through the wall, I heard the sound of running water in the bathroom. I slipped out of bed barefoot. Taking a deep breath, I stripped off every piece of clothing. I pushed the bathroom door open slowly. Inside, the thick steam could not hide his sculpted physique. Broad shoulders. Chiseled abs trailing down his lean waist. And on his back, a terrifying, jagged scar that looked like a giant centipede. He got that scar saving my life. Hearing the door, he glanced over his shoulder. When his eyes dragged over my naked body, they darkened instinctively. His Adam’s apple bobbed. It was a dead giveaway that he was turned on. But just as I braced for him to pull me into the water… He spun around, snatched a towel from the rack, and wrapped it securely around his waist. “Who gave you permission to come in?” I panicked. He had never spoken to me like that. “I… I thought you liked it.” The old Rowan absolutely loved it. He used to coax and beg me daily just to share a bath. Now, his lips pressed into a thin line. He looked like he was suppressing sheer disgust. “Have you no shame?” “What?” He turned his head away. His jaw clenched in restraint. “Get out and put your clothes on.” I could not hold back anymore. I bolted from the room. Ten minutes later, the bathroom door finally clicked open. I heard his footsteps pause outside the master bedroom. Then, they faded down the hall. Early the next morning, Rowan’s assistant, Nolan, found me. He held out a set of keys. And the bank card I had refused the night before. “Mr. Lockwood’s orders. The new apartment is fully furnished. You can move in anytime.” I kept my head down. My eyes burned with fresh tears. Taking a shaky breath, I looked up at him. “Nolan, tell me the truth. Is the company in trouble? Is he sick?” Pity softened Nolan’s eyes. “The boss is perfectly fine. Everything is fine.” I refused to believe it. “If he is fine, he would never throw me away.” Seeing my red, swollen eyes, Nolan sighed heavily. He pressed the items into my palm. “I work for Mr. Lockwood. I probably shouldn’t be saying this. “But feelings come and go. Luckily, the boss is generous. “Take what he gives you. Don’t be foolish and reject it.” The jagged edges of the keys dug into my skin. “When does he want me out?” Nolan looked away, unable to meet my gaze. “Today.” So rushed? He could not even tolerate me for one more night. I forced a bitter smile and whispered a soft okay. I had a lot of things. All bought by him. Rowan was incredibly wealthy and never stingy with me. Over the years, almost as if to compensate me, he bought anything I showed even a sliver of interest in, completely ignoring the price tags. I did not want to take advantage of him, but I also could not bear to leave my past behind. I sifted through my belongings, packing only the most important items. While cleaning out a desk drawer in the study, I noticed a hidden safe. I frowned. I knew almost every inch of this house. But I had never seen this safe before. On pure instinct, I typed in my birthday. The heavy metal door popped open with a click. I blinked and peered inside. No gold bars. No hidden jewels. Just a stack of notebooks. The pages were yellowed with age. I pulled them out and realized they were Rowan’s diaries. The pages were packed with dense handwriting. It was all about me. There were seven notebooks in total. I checked the dates. The earliest entry was from seven years ago. But that was impossible. Seven years ago, I was still in high school. We didn’t even know each other. Confused, I kept reading. That was when I realized our history went back much further than I thought. Back then, he was just a broke kid making deliveries to pay for his tuition. He got into a bad accident on his bike, and I helped him out. Since that day, he could not get me out of his head. Whenever he felt depressed or hit a wall in his career, he would stand outside my dorm building just to catch a glimpse of me. From a poor boy watching from the shadows. To a billionaire standing proudly by my side. It took him four years. I had only meant to skim the pages. Before I knew it, the afternoon sun was streaming through the window. I touched my cheeks. They were completely soaked with tears. When I stood up, a velvet ring box tumbled out from between the pages of the oldest diary. A gorgeous, intricately cut diamond ring rested inside. My mind flashed back to two months ago. Rowan kept kissing my fingers. He even measured my ring size while I was asleep. So all this time… I could not just sit there. I threw everything back into my bag. I had to find him. Every employee at Rowan’s company knew my face. I took the private elevator straight to the top floor. I shoved the heavy oak doors to his office wide open. “Rowan, we need to talk.” The words barely left my mouth when I saw a young woman scrambling off his lap. She hastily adjusted her wrinkled blouse right in front of me. My blood turned to ice. Yet, in that absurdly painful moment, a strange memory surfaced. A few months ago, at a corporate dinner, a female client deliberately brushed her fingers against his hand while pouring wine. Rowan had snapped. He stormed out of the restaurant immediately. When he got home, he scrubbed his hands raw and knelt before me, crying that he was filthy. I finally had to kiss every single inch of his skin to calm him down. Things had changed. I never imagined he would let another woman get this close. “Who let you in!” he roared. “Are the security guards dead?” His secretary rushed in, trembling. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Lockwood. I didn’t know…” “Get out!” The secretary backed away and looked at me. “Ms. Avery?” I did not move. I was terrifyingly calm. I looked straight at him. “I just have a few questions. I’ll leave as soon as you answer them.” Rowan stared at me. Finally, he yielded. He led me into the adjoining conference room, slowly buttoning his dress shirt. “You have three minutes. Speak.” I slid the diaries and the diamond ring across the table. “What is this?” He frowned, picked them up, and flipped through the pages carelessly. “What exactly are you trying to prove with this?” “You were going to propose, weren’t you?” He stayed silent. “I refuse to believe your love just vanished overnight. There has to be a reason. Just tell me the truth.” A beat passed. Then, Rowan laughed. “Avery, did all those years locked up in my house give you Stockholm syndrome?” “Before we make this official, do you want me to hire a shrink for you?” He pulled a sleek silver lighter from his pocket. His tone dripped with casual mockery. “If you think a few pathetic journals prove I still care about you…” His thumb flicked the wheel. A bright flame danced from the metal. “…then I’ll just burn them.” The yellowed paper caught fire instantly, the flames eating away the memories. I gasped. “What are you doing?” Ignoring my panic, he kept talking. “Let it go. A few burnt books won’t change my mind. “Avery, I was sick for too many years. I want to be normal now. I want a normal relationship. “You saw the girl out there. She’s younger, she’s prettier. We are done.” Black ash floated into the air, carried by the AC breeze. My only thought was that I had to save those pages. I lunged forward and snatched the burning book. Searing pain shot up my arm, lighting up my nerve endings. Rowan’s mask finally cracked. Raw, unfiltered panic flooded his eyes. He grabbed my waist and pulled me back. “Are you insane?!” I managed to stamp out the fire before my brain registered the agony. The pain was so intense I blacked out. I woke up groggy to the sound of arguing. “What kind of host body did you stick me in? The guy is a total psycho.” “Did you read those diaries? Absolute garbage! A grown man playing the devoted saint. He really thought he was Romeo.” “And that woman is just as crazy. Locked up for three years, and when she gets a free pass, she refuses to leave. Pathetic.” I peeled my eyes open. Rowan was slumped on the hospital sofa. He looked incredibly annoyed. The room was empty, but he was muttering to someone unseen. “Look, let’s just drop the breakup with Avery.” “I only borrowed this body to complete the system’s mission. I don’t want a murder on my hands.” “I actually don’t hate her. Let’s just keep her in the villa. She’s a spineless little canary anyway. She won’t cause any trouble.” My ears perked up. I quietly digested every single word. Once the room went completely silent, I slowly opened my eyes. Hearing the sheets rustle, he rushed to my side. “You’re awake?” I tried to sit up, but a sharp pain shot through my left hand. “Don’t move. Your burns haven’t healed.” I finally noticed the heavy gauze wrapped around my arm. He helped me prop up some pillows and turned to pour a glass of water. “I want hot milk,” I said softly. He smiled, gently taking my uninjured hand. “Of course. I’ll buy you whatever you want.” My heart turned to absolute ice. I am severely lactose intolerant. Dairy sends me straight to the ER. Rowan knew my body better than I did. For years, he inspected every single thing I ate or drank. I casually slipped my hand out of his grip and forced a weak smile. “Thanks, honey.” My arm injury did not restrict my daily life. But ‘Rowan’ insisted on hiring a private nurse. She was a woman in her fifties, highly efficient. Seeing him sit by my bed all day, she whispered to me with envy. “You don’t see men as devoted as Mr. Lockwood anymore.” “My husband never spends a fraction of that time on me.” I gave her a hollow smile. What she didn’t know was that the real Rowan cherished me like his own life. Forget a severe burn. If I bumped my knee on a table, he would kiss the bruise for hours. He would never trust anyone else to take care of me. A week later, I was discharged. He had already ordered his men to unpack all my bags at the villa. He spoke to me like a generous king granting a pardon. “Since you refuse to leave, just keep living here.” Originally, when he burned the diaries, I truly intended to walk away. But now, I had to stay. I needed to find out where my real Rowan had gone. 2 From that day on, the fake Rowan fell into a routine of leaving early and coming back late. He never mentioned the girl I caught him with. He didn’t bring it up. So I didn’t ask. But that didn’t mean I was blind. At noon, I packed some high-end takeout into a fancy bento box. I took a cab to his office building. Instead of calling him, I rang Nolan. “I made lunch for him. Could you bring it up to his office?” “I also grabbed coffee for the team. Thanks for helping.” The bags were heavy. Nolan took them with a frown. “Why not just call the boss yourself?” “I’m afraid of walking in on… something again. Better not make him mad.” Nolan gave me that look of profound pity again. After a long pause, he sighed. “The girl’s name is Brooke. She’s a new intern.” “But it’s weird. Before the final hiring list was even posted, Mr. Lockwood insisted on putting her in the executive suite. It was like he knew she was coming.” During my time with the real Rowan, he was fiercely loyal. He gave me daily reports on every single person he interacted with without me ever asking. I knew everyone in his circle. Brooke definitely was not one of them. Seeing my silence, Nolan rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t mind my big mouth. Just… look out for yourself, okay?” “Call me if you ever need help.” I nodded and gave him a sincere thank you. That evening, ‘Rowan’ surprisingly came home early. “Why didn’t you call me when you dropped by the office?” I lowered my eyes. “I didn’t want to interrupt your work.” I probably looked incredibly pathetic. A flicker of sympathy crossed his face. “The lunch was great. Really delicious,” he said. “But I want you to have your own life. Don’t just revolve around me.” I nodded obediently. “Okay.” He could not resist patting my head. Since I had nothing real to say to this imposter, I took a shower and went to bed early. Not long after I laid down, I heard footsteps pacing outside my door. He was hesitating. I held my breath and listened closely. I could barely make out his whispers. “I just feel sorry for her. Look how obedient she was today. If I don’t sleep in there, she’ll overthink it.” “I’m doing this for the mission. You don’t want my cover blown either, right?” “Relax, I’m not a freak like Rowan. I’m not gonna touch another man’s girl.” A moment later, the door creaked open. I clamped my eyes shut, pretending to be fast asleep. He slipped under the covers beside me. Seeing me asleep, he seemed to let out a huge breath of relief. He leaned close to my neck and took a deep inhale, sighing in satisfaction. “Smells amazing.” Lately, his attitude toward me had definitely shifted. From initial disgust to gradual acceptance. He even moved out of the guest room and back into the master suite. But my feelings were the exact opposite. Every night sharing a bed with him felt like sleeping next to a corpse. It was revolting. However, there was some good news. His ‘system mission’ was going exceptionally well. I figured that out through Nolan. The assistant wore his heart on his sleeve. Every time he saw me, he looked unbearably guilty, as if he were the one cheating on me. One afternoon, the guilt became too much for him. After taking my ‘homemade’ lunch, he dropped a heavy hint. “The boss is going on a business trip to the neighboring city for a few days. He’s taking an assistant.” “Parentheses, that assistant is not me.” So it was the intern. I nodded to show I understood. When I didn’t react, he added quietly, “The downtown apartment is fully cleared of formaldehyde. Are you really not gonna move in?” I shook my head slowly. Actually, the villa I was living in was legally transferred to my name three years ago. If anyone was getting kicked out, it wouldn’t be me. A few days later, ‘Rowan’ casually brought up the trip. When the real Rowan traveled, regardless of the distance, he dragged me with him. He had severe touch starvation. If he couldn’t hold me, he panicked. So, even knowing the answer, I played my part. “Honey, do you want me to go with you?” He blinked in surprise. “You want to come?” I ducked my head, playing shy. “I’m just afraid you’ll miss me.” His expression became visibly conflicted. After a long silence, he cleared his throat. “It’s strictly business. You don’t need to come.” I nodded eagerly. “Then I’ll wait right here for you to come home.” Wait for the real Rowan to come home, I meant. The minute he left, I grabbed his black card and went on a shopping spree. I never noticed it when he was around. But now that he was gone, I actually missed him. So, I picked out several pieces of highly scandalous lace lingerie. The exact kind Rowan used to beg on his knees for me to wear. The silk was exquisite, and the price tags were astronomical. Thinking about how these expensive pieces usually ended up shredded in Rowan’s aggressive grip made my heart ache a little. When I got home, I laid my loot across the bed and tried them on one by one. Seductive eyes. Flawless curves. No wonder the man was addicted to me. I was just about to change into the next set when the front door clicked open. At this hour… was it him? He was back so soon! Suppressing my joy, I bolted out of the bedroom. “Honey, you’re” The words died in my throat. Wrong. The eyes were wrong. When my Rowan looked at me, his gaze was dark, obsessive, and overflowing with desperate love. The man standing before me looked shocked, and then his eyes clouded with pure, dirty lust. It made my skin crawl. Covering up now would look too suspicious. I forced myself to stay calm. “Honey, why are you back? I thought you were on a trip.” “I figured you’d cry without me, so I rebooked my flight.” Damn it. That meant the mission wasn’t finished. Hiding my bitter disappointment, I forced a bright smile. “That’s great! Let me go change real quick.” I tried to step backward into the bedroom. But he moved faster. He snaked an arm around my waist from behind. “Don’t change. I like this one.” My heart plummeted. My muscles locked up. He leaned directly into my ear. “Did you buy this just to please me?” He was too close. I smelled stale alcohol mixed with cheap women’s perfume on his collar. Nausea clawed at my throat. “I was just trying it on…” Before I could finish, his lips dragged across my neck. “Seriously, did you put a hex on me?” “Why do I have zero interest in touching any other woman but you?” At that exact second, a robotic alarm blared in the air. [Warning. Host has violated Transmigration Rule 384. Intimate contact with anyone other than the designated target is strictly prohibited.] [Stop immediately!] “I am Rowan now, and she is my woman,” he growled. “Claiming her is my right. If I fail, so be it. I’m not going back to my old life anyway.” His grip on my waist tightened brutally. Panic fully set in. I clenched my jaw, swung my arm, and slapped him across the face with everything I had. Smack! The next second, he froze completely. He touched his stinging cheek, his eyes wide, pure, and utterly confused. “Wife?!” “Why did you hit me?” He looked down, taking in my lingerie, and blinked. Then, he tilted his other cheek toward me. “Here.” “Hit this side too.” Holy shit! My beautiful psycho was back! I couldn’t even process my own emotions. I practically climbed him like a tree, sobbing hysterically and wiping tears all over his expensive shirt. Rowan instantly panicked. “What’s wrong?” “Okay, okay, don’t cry. Shh, don’t cry.” “I’m here. Your husband is right here.” It took a long time for me to finally calm down. He told me he had been locked in a dark, empty void. “Most of the time I was unconscious. I could only catch glimpses of the outside world through his perspective.” “Earlier, I thought I heard your voice. I heard something about you wearing a beautiful nightgown, so I fought like hell to open my eyes.” His eyes dragged over my body with zero restraint. “You look gorgeous.” I was speechless. It figures. The only thing that could summon a psycho was psycho energy. That night, the lingerie met its usual fate. Torn to shreds in his hands. Reunited after so long, he completely lost his mind. I didn’t even know how I finally passed out. Half asleep, I felt a wet tongue trailing over the burn scar on my arm. It tickled. I tried to pull away. He sighed heavily against my skin. “Protect yourself.” “It breaks my heart.” When I regained consciousness, the body beside me was still warm. Out of pure habit, I nuzzled into his chest. But he didn’t wrap his arms around me like a golden retriever. Confused, I looked up. I met a pair of calculating, unfamiliar eyes. My blood ran cold. Rowan. He was gone again. Rowan briefly seizing control of his body served as a massive warning to the transmigrator. Gavin did not dare touch me again. He kept his distance cautiously. One night, I woke up thirsty. I walked into the hallway and noticed the light glowing under the study door. Inside, the man’s impatient voice carried through the crack. “Why did I suddenly black out? Why did he wake up? Have your engineers figured it out yet?” [This is unprecedented. Technical support is running a diagnostic.] [But I warned you before. This host, Rowan, has exceptionally high mental fortitude.] [Especially regarding Avery. You must not touch her.] [Just complete your mission obediently, and we can both return to our original world.] “And what about Avery?” The system paused. [What about her?] “If I leave, that psycho gets his body back and keeps controlling her life.” The system sounded bewildered. [Why do you care?] The man scoffed. “As long as I occupy this body, she is my responsibility.” “I’d rather stay stuck here forever than abandon her to a control freak.” [???] [You’re just doing a dating sim mission. Where did this sudden superhero complex come from?] “What did you say?” [Nothing. Do whatever makes you happy, sir.] I waited until the room fell dead silent before tiptoeing back to bed. My mind raced. Slowly, a crazy plan began to form. If my touch was the key to waking Rowan up. Then I would go all in. I decided to seduce him. No. I decided to seduce the transmigrator. Since the last incident, Gavin had been sleeping in the guest room. The next night, right as he was getting ready for bed, I changed into a silk slip. It wasn’t overly scandalous, but it clung to every curve of my body perfectly. I spent an hour doing ‘no-makeup’ makeup. I knocked softly on the guest room door. “Honey, are you asleep?” The man reading in bed looked up and froze. “What are you doing here?” “I can’t sleep.” I padded barefoot across the thick carpet. My heart hammered against my ribs. I had never done anything like this before. He closed his book and took off his gold-rimmed glasses. “What do you want?” “You haven’t touched me in so long.” I looked up at him with pleading eyes. “Are you not attracted to me anymore?” I let my fingers trail lightly down his chest. After surviving my intense relationship with the real Rowan, I knew every single sensitive spot on this body like the back of my hand. The soul was fake, but the nerve endings were real. His breathing hitched immediately. I pressed my advantage, swinging a leg over his hips to straddle him. His eyes darkened violently. He grabbed my wrists. A low groan rumbled in his chest. “Wife, keep touching.” That shameless, hungry look. Who else could it be? I knew the bastard couldn’t resist! Since my Rowan was back, the seduction was officially canceled. I scrambled to get off his lap. He clamped his hands tightly on my waist and pulled me flush against him. “Where are you going?” “Why stop now?” Furious, I smacked him right on his painfully obvious erection. “Is this really the time for that?!” He let out a sharp hiss. Then he grabbed my hand and dragged his tongue across my palm. “I need a cold shower.” To prevent him from going feral again, I quickly changed into flannel pajamas and sat cross-legged on the bed waiting for him. A few minutes later, he walked out. He had taken a freezing military shower. I rapidly relayed all the intel I gathered. “The fake guy says he wants to save me.” I rolled my eyes. “Is that the catch? If I leave, his mission is successful?” “What should I do? Should I actually pack up and cut ties with you?” He went totally silent. Then he murmured, “It has nothing to do with you.” “Huh?” He explained. “Since I woke up last time, my periods of lucidity are getting longer. “While I was trapped, I saw his memories.” “His name is Gavin. A broke college grad with too much pride and zero work ethic. “Before he crossed over, his girlfriend dumped him for being a lazy loser. He got evicted and was sleeping on the streets. That’s when the system pulled him in.” “He has absolutely nothing holding him to his original world. He never planned on going back.” His own life was a miserable failure. Coming here, he instantly became a billionaire CEO. Endless money. Supreme power. A perfect body and a handsome face. It was the ultimate reset button.

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A year ago, my roommate ended her relationship. I used to watch how that guy treated her, soaking up his every act of devotion with a quiet, burning envy. Eventually, we found our way to each other. He was gentle, orchestrating my life with a seamless precision, yet there was always this invisible wall of cold detachment between us. Half a year of this lukewarm existence dragged on before something in him finally shifted. I was overjoyed, foolishly believing my absolute sincerity had finally melted the ice around his heart. Until the holidays, when he unexpectedly ran into her. Under the explosive light of winter fireworks, the truth hit me hard. He had never really let her go. 1 The reason I got together with Sebastian was agonizingly simple. I loved the way he cared for my roommate. It was a quiet, unassuming warmth. Back in our dorm days, I had a front-row seat to their long-term romance, standing on the sidelines like a voyeur, envying her and everything she possessed. Even her name. Hunter. It didn’t sound like a girl’s name, but it held her father’s greatest wish for her. To be the hunter, clear in her direction, never having to bend her will or alter her course for anyone else. And my name was Grace. The phrase my father drilled into my head the most was to be graceful, sweet, and compliant. What I mastered was the art of keeping people happy. So when I saw Hunter throwing a fit outside our dorm because Sebastian was running late, my chest tightened. Sebastian just brushed her forehead affectionately and pulled a pastry box out of his bag like a magician. It was a viral croissant from a Soho bakery that required a five-hour wait in line. Hunter took exactly one bite and handed it back to him without missing a beat. “I hate hazelnut. Remember what I like and don’t like.” Sebastian just smiled and said he would. I was stunned, and then a wave of bitter sourness washed over me. Because if it had been me, I would have pretended to love it. In my world, pleasing someone meant being loved, or at least being loved a little more. But Hunter didn’t need to play that game. She just needed to exist as herself, and someone would love her unconditionally. Sebastian and Hunter broke up right around graduation. It rained heavily that day, and he stood outside our building in the downpour for a very long time. A year later, I ran into him at a dinner party. He was genuinely surprised to hear I had also graduated from Columbia. It made sense. Back then, his eyes were entirely filled with Hunter. He probably never even registered my existence. I was just that small, that invisible. So when he actively started pursuing me later, I hesitated. I knew there was a space in his heart that could never be overwritten. But in the end, I nodded. I just wanted to know what it felt like to be treated that way. To feel the weight of being firmly chosen, to be indulged, to have my preferences memorized, to be treated like the center of someone’s universe. All those things I had spied on from the dorm window. I wanted a taste. Once we got together, Sebastian treated me well. Impeccably well. Whenever my cramps flared up, a hot water bottle and ginger tea were already waiting. If I worked late, he was parked downstairs, never complaining. Flowers on holidays, thoughtful gifts on birthdays. He covered every base. But once I actually had him, something felt incredibly off. He rarely showed any raw emotion. He spent most of his time wrapped in silence, lost in thoughts he refused to share with me. We treated each other with the polite courtesy of esteemed guests rather than lovers. The old Sebastian was so vibrant. He used to get nervous when Hunter was mad. He would laugh and coax her when she said the wrong thing. He would get visibly upset if she stayed out too late. I used to hear him through the dorm walls, eagerly telling Hunter what he ate for lunch and what funny thing he saw on the street. With me, he was perpetually mild, proper, and lukewarm. A year into our relationship, he had never once volunteered a random detail about his day. It felt like he was fulfilling the duties of a boyfriend rather than actually loving a person. Sometimes, deep in the night, I would find him sitting out on the balcony. The glowing ember of his cigarette illuminated his face in the dark, his expression unreadable. He was the youngest Managing Director in his region, a man who strategized multimillion-dollar deals without breaking a sweat. What could possibly make him look so profoundly lost? Only Hunter, I figured. When the ache got too heavy, I would ask myself what I even liked about him. The answer terrified me. Maybe I didn’t actually like him at all. Maybe I just wanted a lover who wouldn’t push me away. Someone who would let me be myself and still love me fiercely, just the way he had loved Hunter. But Sebastian never gave me that chance. One day, I tested the waters. “What kind of girls do you actually like?” He looked at me and said he liked girls like me. Quiet. Well-behaved. He hated high-maintenance girls. He practically listed every trait that was the exact opposite of Hunter. A tiny fracture split open in my chest right then. Because I had seen what he looked like when he was truly in love. It wasn’t this. It wasn’t built on a foundation of convenience and peace. But I swallowed the lie anyway. I wanted to make a bet with myself. I boxed up all my messy emotions and played the role of the perfect, understanding girlfriend to the absolute extreme. I wanted to know if being considerate enough, if being the anti-Hunter, could buy the devotion I was starving for. And if it did, would I even be happy? We drifted along in this painless, numb state for another six months. One weekend, I made plans with a friend to catch a movie. We picked a theater exactly halfway between us so it was fair. Right before I left the house, my phone buzzed. “Grace, there’s a new IMAX theater doing a promo nearby. The tickets are super cheap!” I opened the link. It was a five-minute walk from her apartment, but over an hour’s drive for me. Her text sounded so excited, though. I didn’t want to ruin the mood. When I finally arrived, I texted asking where she was. “Still on the road. Traffic is a nightmare.” I stood there for fifteen minutes. My phone buzzed again. “The weather app says it’s going to pour. Should we just skip it?” I stared at the glowing letters. I slowly backspaced my drafted reply of “I’m already here.” “Yeah, let’s just do it another time. It’s a pretty far drive for me anyway.” She replied instantly. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry! Drinks are on me next time!” I texted back a smiley face. Standing out on the pavement in front of the theater, I suddenly felt the urge to laugh at myself. I had done it again. I swallowed the words someone else was too coward to say, handed them a perfect out, and absorbed all the inconvenience they refused to carry. It was as natural as breathing. It was a pathetic instinct. I texted Sebastian. “Where are you?” He replied quickly. “Meeting with a supplier. How’s the movie?” I locked my screen. The thing adults are best at is keeping their mouths shut at the worst possible times. I didn’t go home. I wandered the streets aimlessly until I walked past an exotic pet shop. In the glass display sat a lizard. It was ash-brown, its scales looking like a cracked, dry riverbed. It lay completely motionless on a piece of driftwood. While the other animals scrambled around, it just sat there in absolute stillness. I stared at it for a long time. It didn’t exist to please anyone. You get close, it doesn’t flinch. You ignore it, it doesn’t beg for attention. Its emotions belong entirely to itself. It requires no comforting, and it certainly won’t comfort you. I wanted it. Not because it would provide emotional support, but precisely because it wouldn’t. There would be no expectations between us. No draining demands. I couldn’t achieve that kind of simplicity, but this creature could do it for me. “I’ll take him.” The shop owner blinked in surprise. “A lot of girls think they’re cool but get scared of them once they’re home. This is a living thing, you know. You have to commit.” “I’m not scared,” I said. When Sebastian came home and saw “Duke” in the living room, his expression was incredibly hard to read. He leaned close to the glass tank, staring at the lizard perched on the wood. “You bought this?” “Yeah.” “You’re not afraid of it?” “No.” He looked up at me and smiled. It was a genuinely soft smile. He reached out and lightly tapped my forehead. “You look so delicate. Who knew you were into cold-blooded reptiles. What’s his name?” “Duke.” The corner of his mouth twitched upward. It was subtle, but I caught it. “Pretty arrogant name.” “He earns it.” Sebastian nodded. He pulled out his phone and immediately ordered a premium heat mat and specialized calcium powder, stating that Duke would need them. “How do you know that?” I asked. “Did you research it?” He paused, as if weighing whether to tell the truth. “Yeah,” he finally said. “I used to have one. I gave it away.” “Why?” “Someone was scared of it.” I didn’t say a word. He didn’t elaborate either. He just pocketed his phone and looked at me. “You never answered me earlier. How was the movie?” The moment he asked, something inside me cracked. The floodgates holding back my humiliation and exhaustion just gave way. Tears spilled over my eyelashes. Sebastian actually looked startled. But he quickly masked it, stepping close to wipe the tears from my cheeks. “What’s wrong? Was the movie that bad?” I opened my mouth. I wanted to tell him I got stood up. I wanted to tell him I waited outside like an idiot for nothing. But the words that came out were… “Yeah. It was bad.” He pulled me firmly into his chest. He rested his chin on the top of my head, one hand cradling the back of my neck. His voice was a low murmur. “If it was that bad, we just won’t watch movies like that anymore.” His other hand patted my back in a slow, rhythmic motion, the way you soothe a frightened child. My mind flashed back to my childhood. Whenever I was upset, I desperately wanted my parents to hold me the way other kids were held. Instead, they would scold me, making me feel like my sadness was a burden, an emotion I hadn’t earned the right to express. The memory made me cry harder. I completely ruined the front of his shirt. By the time I pulled myself together and looked up, the fabric over his chest was soaked and severely wrinkled. I sniffled, suddenly feeling incredibly embarrassed. He glanced down at the wet patch on his chest, said absolutely nothing, and just used his thumb to wipe a stray tear off my jaw. “This shirt is designer. You’re going to have to pay for that.” My voice was thick and raspy. “I make a good salary. Send me the bill.” I immediately wired him fifteen hundred dollars from my phone. Sebastian was notoriously picky about his wardrobe. He never compromised on fabric or tailoring. Any random piece pulled from his closet was worth half my monthly rent. But the infuriating part was how effortlessly he wore it all, like those absurdly expensive clothes were custom-grown for his body. He flicked my forehead lightly. “You little brat. You used our joint Amex account to pay me back. You’re using my money to pay for my ruined shirt.” I suddenly remembered he had re-routed my primary payment method to his card the month prior. He caught my expression and let out a genuine laugh. “Do I really look that desperate for cash to you?” His smile slowly faded, replaced by a grounded sincerity. “If you’re upset and don’t want to talk about it, I’m not going to force it out of you. But I really hope you learn to let it out eventually. You can choke back your tears and swallow your voice, but whatever it is you’re keeping bottled up is rotting something inside you. And only you know what that is.” He didn’t press any further. He just softly asked, “Are you hungry? I’ll make us something.” I nodded. “I want pasta. With two fried eggs.” “Done.” His smile was breathtaking. But I never ended up eating that pasta. By the time Sebastian came out of the kitchen to get me, I was shivering on the couch, half-delirious. Getting caught in the cold rain earlier had triggered a brutal fever. When he reached out to check my forehead, I instinctively flinched away. In my past, getting sick always started with my father’s explosive lectures. He would scream about how irresponsible I was, how I was too old to not know how to take care of myself. Only after breaking me down would the pity show up in his eyes. I braced for the scolding, but it never came. Sebastian just turned around, grabbed a cool, damp towel, placed it gently over my brow, and coaxed me into swallowing some ibuprofen. Lying there, I listened to the sounds of the kitchen. The rhythmic chopping, the water boiling, the soft clatter of a wooden spoon against a pot. A long time passed before he walked in holding a bowl of soup. He sat on the edge of the mattress, stirring the broth and blowing on it to cool it down before lifting the spoon to my lips. “Open.” It was extremely late by the time he finished cooking. He could have easily ordered delivery on a corporate card, but he knew I loved his cooking, so he made it from scratch despite his exhaustion. He fed me spoon by spoon, never rushing. When the bowl was empty, he took a tissue and carefully dabbed the corner of my mouth. Then he pulled the heavy duvet up to my chin, tucking me in securely. He rested his warm palm against my forehead, his thumb stroking my hairline. “Go to sleep. I’m right here.” His voice was a deep, quiet anchor in the room. I closed my eyes, my fever-addled brain drifting into a hazy thought. Is this what love is supposed to be? I suppose so. I thought I could survive the rest of my life like this. From that night on, the air between us felt different. When the winter holidays hit, I drove Sebastian to the airport. He pinched my nose playfully at the drop-off zone. “It’s freezing out here. You really didn’t have to drive me all the way down here.” I didn’t say anything. I just threw my arms around his neck and hugged him tight. This was the first time we were going to be apart for an extended period. I hated letting him go, but there was a sick, secret thrill to it. I wanted to see if the distance would make him miss me. I wanted to see if he would panic, if he would finally be the one reaching out first. I was dead wrong. The moment his flight landed, he basically dropped off the face of the earth. I forced myself not to text him the first day. Around midnight, I got a generic “I’m home” text. After that, absolute radio silence. During my family’s holiday dinner, I stared blankly at my phone, waiting for his name to pop up on the screen. The house was packed with relatives. At the dinner table, my dad started recounting stories from my childhood, bragging to the aunts and uncles about how docile, obedient, and completely hassle-free I had always been. Then he looked at me and sighed. “But look at her now.” A suffocating wave of panic gripped my throat. I excused myself to my childhood bedroom and made the very first rebellious decision of my entire existence. At 2 AM, I booked the earliest flight upstate to his hometown. I packed a massive duffel bag full of specialty foods from my city, desperate to share them with him. During the three-hour flight, the window showed nothing but the pitch-black sky and my own tired reflection in the glass. My hair was a mess, but the thought of seeing Sebastian’s face ignited a warm, buzzing energy in my chest. The world was massive, but right now, I only wanted him. By 9 AM, I was standing outside his upscale apartment complex. My heart fluttering, I typed out a message. “I’m downstairs.” Nothing. I hesitated, wondering if I should call him. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught movement on a wooden bench near the courtyard entrance. Sebastian was sitting there. Hunter’s head was resting heavily on his shoulder. She looked like she was crying, her shoulders shaking in small, violent tremors. Sebastian had his arm wrapped securely around her. His other hand was gently stroking her hair. Neither of them spoke. They just sat there, glued together in the cold morning air. I stood behind the thick trunk of an oak tree, the winter chill sinking straight into my marrow. My phone vibrated in my palm. A text from Sebastian. “I’m not home right now.” I looked up. His hand was still firmly pressed against the small of Hunter’s back. He hadn’t let go for a single second. And he definitely hadn’t noticed me. I turned around and walked away in absolute silence. I knew Sebastian had just been sentenced to death in my heart, but the sheer logic of it didn’t stop the excruciating pain. I have zero memory of how I bought the return ticket or boarded the train back into the city. I only remember my hands and feet feeling like blocks of ice, my nose stinging from the bitter wind. On the train, an elderly woman sitting next to me noticed the bulging duffel bag in my lap. She smiled warmly. “Sweetheart, did your boyfriend buy you all those treats? He must really love you.” I nodded slowly. “Yeah. He really does.” The scenery whipped past the window like a broken film reel. The gray northern sky, the skeletal trees, the patches of dirty snow on distant rooftops. Inside the train, the atmosphere was loud and cheerful. It was the holidays, after all. People were glowing with joy. I sat glued to the window, absorbing the desolate winter outside while drowning in the noise inside. I suddenly wanted to scream and cry until my throat gave out. The universe is so endlessly vast, and I am so pathetically small. The world was spinning perfectly on its axis, completely unaffected by the fact that my entire life had just collapsed. I pulled out my phone and typed a message to him. “Sebastian, I miss you so much.” I missed him like I was dying of thirst. I knew I should be screaming in rage, but my heart was still begging for him. I despised myself for it. He didn’t call until much later that evening. I answered, and his voice flowed through the speaker, smooth and gentle as always. “Where are you right now?” I sniffled. Crying for hours had wrecked my vocal cords. “At home.” I paused, clutching the phone. “I was just messing with you this morning. I never left the apartment.” Maybe I couldn’t stomach the reality of what I had seen. Maybe I just refused to look that pathetic. So I lied. “Good. Look out your window. Come downstairs?” My heart slammed against my ribs. I practically ripped the curtains open. Sebastian was standing under the streetlamp below my apartment. He was wearing a charcoal wool overcoat, looking up at my window with a breathtakingly soft smile. “It’s freezing. Put a coat on before you come down.” I flew down the staircase, taking the steps two at a time. The entire way down, my brain spun with scenarios of how I was going to confront him. But the second I burst through the lobby doors and saw him, all my defenses crumbled into dust. I just looked at him, and the tears betrayed me, spilling over my cheeks. I launched myself into his chest. Sebastian wrapped his arms around me, patting my back steadily. He didn’t ask why I was crying. Instead, he pulled a small paper box from a boutique bag. “Basque burnt cheesecake. Just like I promised.” I took the box with trembling hands. But the air around him felt heavy. The conversation wasn’t over. He looked down at me, his gaze painfully serious. “Grace, there is something I need to tell you face to face.” He paused. His voice was still dipped in that same gentleness, but there was a heavy, suffocating finality to it.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “426705”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On the third day of our state-mandated divorce waiting period, I suited up and went to the gallery just like any other morning. It was as if a decade of brotherhood hadn’t rotted to the core, as if my marriage was still perfectly intact. But the moment I walked back into the house, I pulled out my phone, pointed the camera at our belongings, and began a meticulous inventory of our assets. The debts she secretly racked up, the cheap trinkets he gifted me over the years, I documented every single detail, tagging them neatly before forwarding the entire file to my attorney. At a weekend gathering, a few mutual friends shot me hesitant glances, carefully dancing around the subject of me, her, and him. I picked up my espresso, took a slow sip, and set it down with a practiced, polite smile. I told them everything was handled. We were parting on good terms, going our separate ways, and leaving each other in peace. The catalyst for all of this was breathtakingly simple. I discovered that my wife of three years had been sleeping with my best friend of ten years. The very day I found out, I dragged her to the attorney’s office to file the divorce petition. 1 The photo was sent to our decade-old college group chat by Tristan. It was an “accident.” In the picture, Vivian was resting her head intimately against his shoulder, their hands overlapping on the glass coffee table. The background was unmistakably my own living room. I stared at the glowing screen for exactly ten seconds. Then I opened Vivian’s contact and typed a single message. “My lawyer’s office. Tomorrow at 3 PM.” My phone lit up with back-to-back calls from her. I let them all ring out into silence. The next afternoon at ten minutes to three, I parked outside the downtown law firm. I straightened my blazer, grabbed my briefcase, and checked my watch. A text buzzed through. “I’m here.” I pushed the car door open. Vivian was standing by the entrance. When she saw me, her posture stiffened. “Silas…” “Ms. Bennett.” I cut her off instantly. “Did you print the petition?” Her hand froze in mid-air. “Ms. Bennett?” she repeated, her eyes wide with hurt. “Why are you calling me that?” “It’s the appropriate title for an ex-wife.” I plucked the manila folder from her grip and flipped straight to the signature line on the last page. “Do you have a pen?” “Silas, you need to listen to me.” She took a desperate step forward. “That picture isn’t what it looks like…” I shifted my weight, sidestepping her entirely, and uncapped my own fountain pen. I signed my name with sharp, precise strokes. Silas Thorne. Wait, I can’t use Thorne. Silas Mercer. “Tristan and I really don’t have anything going on. He was just…” Her voice was frantic. “He was just helping me get through the depression of my failed startup. We are strictly friends.” I capped the pen and handed the clipboard back to her. “The papers are signed. I’ll see you in thirty days when the cooling-off period is over.” “No!” she cried out, grabbing my wrist. “I never intended to betray you! Tristan… he was just being overly supportive. We are completely innocent!” I stared down at her fingers digging into my cuff. Using my free hand, I peeled her fingers off my wrist. One by one. “Ms. Bennett.” I met her eyes, my voice devoid of any inflection. “Holding hands on my couch is your definition of innocent?” She opened her mouth, stammered, and finally whispered. “I only came today because I wanted to see you. Not to divorce you. I don’t want a divorce.” I smoothed out the crease in my sleeve. “I do.” “Just listen to me.” She chased after me as I turned away. “I admit we got a little too close, but I swear on my life we never crossed the line! Tristan took that photo on purpose. He just wanted to get a rise out of you…” “And your point is?” I stopped and looked back at her. “You sat there and happily played along while he tried to provoke your husband?” “That’s not it.” Her voice shrank. “I was just under so much pressure lately. Tristan was constantly there, comforting me. I didn’t even realize things had gotten to that point.” Her eyes were rimmed with red, playing the victim to perfection. Just like every time we used to argue. But this time was different. “Ms. Bennett.” I turned toward the parking lot. “See you in thirty days.” “Silas!” she screamed at my back. “You’re misunderstanding everything!” I didn’t look back. The moment my car door clicked shut, my phone vibrated. It was a text from Tristan. “Silas, don’t be mad at me, man. Viv and I are completely innocent~” I stared at the tilde at the end of his sentence and let out a dry laugh. Delete contact. Block. The thirty-day countdown started today. During the first week of the waiting period, I went to work at the gallery just as I always did. Exactly like every day for the past three years. I got home at seven in the evening. Before my key even turned the deadbolt, the smell of braised short ribs wafted through the door. I pushed the door open. Tristan was standing in my kitchen, ladling soup into porcelain bowls. Wrapped around his wrist was the diamond-encrusted watch I had bought him for his birthday last year. “Viv, soup’s ready!” he called out, carrying the bowl toward the dining table. He froze when he saw me. “Oh. Silas. You’re home.” I dropped my keys on the console and said nothing. Vivian practically sprinted out of the home office. When she saw me, panic washed over her face. “Silas. You’re back.” She shot a terrified glance at Tristan, then back at me. I gave a curt nod and walked straight to the master bedroom. Just before my door clicked shut, I heard Vivian hiss under her breath. “Didn’t I tell you not to come over?” Tristan immediately put on his sickeningly sweet, theatrical voice. “But Viv, I was so worried about you being all alone with no one to take care of you.” I shut the door and walked over to the window. I stared at the amber glow of the streetlights outside. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Ten minutes later, a soft knock echoed through the wood. “Silas, come out and eat.” It was Vivian. “Tristan and I really have nothing going on. He just came over to cook a meal. He’s leaving right now.” I pulled the door open. She stood in the hallway, her eyes darting everywhere but my face. “Can we please just talk?” she pleaded. “I want to explain everything.” “It’s called a cooling-off period,” I interrupted smoothly. “It’s for cooling off, not for giving excuses.” “But…” she tried again. I sidestepped her completely and walked into the kitchen to grab a glass of water. Tristan was busy placing a tender piece of meat onto Vivian’s plate. “Try this, Viv. I spent hours perfecting the recipe.” I picked up a glass from the cabinet and filled it from the fridge dispenser. “Silas, want to join us?” Tristan asked with a bright, innocent smile. “I specifically made your favorite ribs.” I glanced at the spread on the table. “No thanks. I ate downtown.” His plastic smile twitched. Vivian slammed her fork down. “Tristan, you need to leave.” “Viv…” Tristan looked at her, his eyes welling up with fake tears. “Are you annoyed with me now?” “No.” Vivian rubbed her temples in exhaustion. “I just… Silas and I need space.” I carried my water glass back to my room. As I turned the lock, I heard Tristan’s muffled, dramatic sniffling through the drywall. “Silas won’t actually go through with the divorce. He loves you too much. He’ll come crawling back in a few days. Don’t stress yourself out, Viv.” Vivian didn’t reply. I leaned against the back of the door and took a sip of water. It was freezing cold against my teeth. Half an hour later, the front door clicked shut. Footsteps approached my room. Vivian knocked again. “Silas, he’s gone. Can we talk now?” I didn’t answer. “I know you’re furious,” she spoke to the wood between us. “But things are not what you think. Tristan… you guys have been best friends since college. He would never do anything to betray you.” I stared at the door panel, listening to her pathetic defense. “That photo was an accident,” she continued. “I was having a breakdown that day, and Tristan came over to comfort me. We were just talking. When he leaned his head on my shoulder, I didn’t react in time, and he snapped the picture.” “Silas, please just say something.” I unlocked the door and pulled it open. She stood there, her hair slightly disheveled, looking desperate. “Ms. Bennett.” I looked down at her. “Twenty-seven days left.” She froze completely. I shut the door in her face. Lying in the dark, I stared at the ceiling. My brain was a carousel of that damn photo and all the tiny, nauseating details from the past few years. Looking back, the cracks were there from the very beginning. I was just too blind to see them. Ten years ago, on move-in day at the art institute, I rolled my luggage into the dorm room. Tristan was already there, unpacking his duffel bag. He turned around, his eyes lighting up. “Hey man! I’m Tristan.” “Silas,” I replied with a smile. His eyes immediately dropped to my leather Hermès weekender bag. They lingered there for a long time. After that, his favorite phrase became, “Silas, you’re way too good to me.” Whenever I picked up the tab for dinner, he would promise, “Next time is on me, bro.” But next time never came. During our junior year, his family hit a financial crisis. He couldn’t make tuition. I wired him three thousand dollars on the spot. He actually cried, hugging me. “Silas, you’re literally the brother I never had.” When we graduated, he bought me a celadon tea set. It looked relatively intricate. “Silas, we are brothers for life,” he had said, gripping my shoulder. I was genuinely moved. Until I stumbled across the exact same tea set on Amazon a month later. It cost fifteen dollars. Three years ago, during my gallery’s spring exhibition, Vivian stood entirely captivated in front of an abstract piece. I walked up next to her. “Good eye. That’s a rising contemporary artist.” She turned to look at me, her eyes sparkling. “Your understanding of art is absolutely mesmerizing.” She was a junior curatorial assistant back then. Soft-spoken, elegant, polite. She pursued me for six months before I finally asked her out. While we were dating, Tristan constantly nagged me. “Come on, man, let me meet the lucky girl!” Our first dinner together was at an upscale sushi spot. I came back from the restroom to find Tristan using his chopsticks to place a piece of premium sashimi directly onto Vivian’s plate. “Try this, Viv. It’s incredibly fresh.” His smile was practically dripping with sugar. Vivian looked slightly taken aback. “Thank you.” I sat down next to her. Tristan immediately looked at me. “Silas, your girlfriend is so gentle.” I just laughed it off. “Yeah, she is.” Looking back now, why the hell was he calling her by a pet name after knowing her for ten minutes? During the first year of our marriage, Tristan practically lived at our house. “Silas, I missed you, man!” he would announce, walking in with bags of junk food. Whenever Vivian was home, he would kick into overdrive. “Viv, what book are you reading?” “Viv, I brought you that matcha latte you like!” “Viv, how’s the seasoning on this pasta I made?” Vivian would respond with polite grace. I would be in the kitchen prepping dinner, listening to them laugh in the living room, genuinely thinking it was nice to have a lively house. One night, I got stuck at the gallery until ten. When I unlocked the front door, Tristan was still there. He and Vivian were sitting on the couch watching a movie. The physical distance between them was virtually nonexistent. As I toed off my dress shoes, he shot up like a rocket. “Silas, you’re back! I was just keeping Viv company while we waited for you.” Vivian stood up right after him. “Did you eat dinner?” I told them I had grabbed takeout. Tristan snatched his jacket from the armchair. “Alright, I’ll get out of your hair. Don’t want to ruin date night.” As he stepped out the door, he looked back over his shoulder with a bright grin. “See you next time, Viv!” Back then, I thought he was just being a thoughtful friend. Now I realize he wasn’t saying goodbye to me at all. During the second year of our marriage, Vivian’s boutique agency went under. She was left thirty thousand dollars in the hole. The stress made her toxic. Every night she would lock herself in the home office. Her tone toward me turned glacial. “You literally just look at paintings all day. You have no idea what real pressure feels like.” “Stop bothering me.” “I need space.” During that dark period, Tristan started coming over constantly. He pulled me aside and said, “Silas, let me talk to her. I’ll help her get her head straight.” I was so immensely grateful. I even gave him a spare key. “Come over whenever. Just keep her company when she’s spiraling.” He gripped my hand tightly. “Silas, you’re the best guy I know. Don’t worry, I’ll take perfect care of Viv for you.” And like a complete idiot, I believed him. One afternoon, a meeting was canceled, so I came home early. Pushing the door open, I heard hushed voices from the living room. Tristan and Vivian were sitting intimately on the couch. He was carefully peeling an orange for her. “Viv, you can’t let this drag you down. Failing a startup is just a stepping stone.” “I just feel like… Silas doesn’t understand me at all,” Vivian whispered, her voice cracking. “Silas is just a little out of touch with reality,” Tristan murmured softly, handing her a slice of fruit. “He grew up with a silver spoon. He doesn’t know what it means to actually struggle.” I stood frozen in the entryway. In my hand was a takeout bag from her favorite artisan bakery. I ended up eating the pastries alone in my car later. They tasted entirely like salt. Or maybe I was just crying. During the final six months of the marriage, Vivian started coming home later and later. Tristan’s visits became even more frequent. One afternoon, I was cleaning up the living room and found a silver chain bracelet jammed between the couch cushions. It belonged to Tristan. I carried it toward the master bedroom, intending to leave it on my dresser to return to him later. I pushed the bedroom door open and stopped dead. Sitting on my nightstand was an identical silver bracelet. I stared at it for a long time. I picked it up. It was definitely Tristan’s. When exactly had he been inside my bedroom? I walked back out and asked Vivian, “Was Tristan in our bedroom?” She was scrolling through her phone and didn’t even bother looking up. “Yeah. He was looking for your clothes. Said he wanted to borrow something.” “Borrow clothes?” “He said he had a big networking event and your suits fit him better.” I walked over to my closet and pulled the doors open. My bespoke charcoal Tom Ford suit was gone. My most expensive piece. I didn’t say a word. I just closed the doors. And finally, Tristan “accidentally” dropped that photo in the group chat. Week two of the cooling-off period. A Saturday. I started boxing up the clutter. Photographing every single item. Logging them into a spreadsheet. The celadon tea set in the living room. Gifted by Tristan. Photographed. Tagged: “His.” The geometric sculpture on the bookshelf. Tristan. The jewelry box in Vivian’s closet, packed with cheap trinkets he had given her. I dumped them all onto the mattress, lining them up like evidence. Photographed. The diamond watch was sitting right at the front of the pile. The exact same one he had left on my nightstand. I shoved the jewelry back into the velvet box and kept digging. In the bottom drawer of her desk, I found a notarized debt clearance form. Thirty thousand dollars. Under the “Paid By” column, a signature was scrawled in black ink. Tristan. I stared at that signature until my vision blurred. He had paid off her business debt. No wonder he played the knight in shining armor so perfectly during her depression. Photographed. Forwarded to my attorney. Note: “Hidden marital debt.” Vivian walked through the front door at six. She froze when she saw me sitting on the living room rug, surrounded by boxes. Spread across the coffee table was every single gift Tristan had ever brought into this house. “Silas, what are you doing?” she asked, hovering by the entryway. I didn’t look up from my laptop. “Liquidating assets.” She walked closer, her eyes widening as she recognized the pile of junk. All the color drained from her face. “Are you… are you planning to give all of Tristan’s gifts back to him?” “Lawyer’s advice.” I snapped another picture of a ceramic mug. “Oh, and I’ll be demanding back every single thing I ever bought him. But your debt? You can pay that off yourself.” “Silas.” She dropped to her knees across from me. “I only hid it because I didn’t want to stress you out.” I stopped typing and finally looked at her. “So you let him pay it?” “No, that’s not…” Panic leaked into her voice. “Tristan just helped me with a small portion to tide me over. He said bros look out for each other…” “Thirty thousand dollars,” I cut her off cleanly. “He paid the entire balance.” She was stunned into silence. “I had no idea…” she stammered. “I swear to God, I thought he only chipped in a few grand.” I let out a harsh laugh. “Sure you didn’t.” “I mean it!” She reached across the table and grabbed my wrist. “Silas, look at me. I swear on my life I didn’t know he paid the whole thing. He never told me.” I yanked my arm back violently. “Then why the hell would he do it?” Her face flushed crimson, a mix of humiliation and anger. “If I had told you about the debt, would you have paid it?! You’re always so high and mighty… Silas, I was terrified you would look down on me! I did it because I loved you!” I paused for a second, my face completely blank. I went back to packing the box. “My lawyer will handle it.” Later that night, she was on a video call in the home office. I walked past the door and caught the distinct pitch of Tristan’s voice through the speakers. “Viv, is he still throwing a tantrum?” “He’s not throwing a tantrum.” Vivian’s voice was exhausted. “He’s packing his things. And he found the paperwork for the debt you paid off.” “Oh?” Tristan’s voice spiked in panic. “What did he say?” “Nothing. He just said his lawyer is handling it.” “Oh.” Tristan let out a sleazy chuckle. “Well, whatever. The clock is ticking anyway. Once the divorce is finalized, we won’t have to hide anymore~ Plus, since it’s a marital debt, he’s legally on the hook for half of it! He owes me fifteen grand!” “Tristan…” Vivian hesitated, her voice trembling slightly. “I’ve been thinking lately. Maybe we…” “Vivian!” Tristan snapped, his sweet facade vanishing instantly. “Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet. I dropped thirty grand to save your ass!” Vivian went dead silent. I stood entirely still in the dark hallway. In my hands was that cheap celadon tea set. A fifteen-dollar “brothers for life” tea set. Exchanged for a thirty-thousand-dollar investment in my wife. What an absolute bargain. Week three of the cooling-off period. A Wednesday afternoon. I was at the gallery, walking a high-net-worth client through the main exhibit. “The investment yield on this piece is exceptionally strong. The artist has already secured a massive foothold in the European contemporary scene…” The heavy glass doors of the gallery swung open. Tristan strolled in, wearing the bespoke beige suit I had tailored for his birthday last year. “Silas!” he called out, waving like an idiot. “Came to visit you at work!” The client raised an eyebrow, clearly annoyed by the interruption. I gave the client a tight, apologetic smile. “Please excuse me for one moment, sir.” I spun around to face Tristan, pointing rigidly toward the lobby. “The waiting area is over there. Sit down and don’t move.” He rolled his eyes and sauntered over to the leather sofas. After securing the client’s purchase and seeing him out, I walked over to the front desk to organize the exhibition catalogs. Tristan leaned against the marble counter, invading my space. “Man, your job is a joke. You literally just stare at paint all day.” I closed the thick catalog and stacked it. “It pays the bills.” “What is this garbage anyway?” He flipped open one of the brochures disrespectfully. “People pay millions for this? Abstract expressionism? My dog could paint this.” I snatched the brochure out of his hands and filed it away. “It’s fine if you don’t understand it.” He bristled instantly. “I don’t understand it?” he scoffed, his face flushing. “I went to design school, bro. How the hell would I not understand it?” I took a slow sip from my thermos and didn’t bother engaging. He glared at me. “Silas, do you have a problem with me?” I just stared at him, letting the silence hang.

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On the day of our third wedding anniversary, Joshua used work as an excuse to avoid coming home again. I opened the door to his home office and unexpectedly stumbled upon that journal. It turned out that in this marriage, I was nothing more than a living memorial to another woman. He had meticulously molded me into her exact likeness. But I decided to tear it all down with my own hands. I stopped being the submissive, obedient wife. I began systematically rebelling against every memory he held of his perfect phantom. The tension finally detonated during a massive fight, where I laid every single piece of his deception out in the open. I demanded a divorce. I told him to go find the woman he was so desperately obsessed with. Joshua completely broke down. He buried his face in his hands and sobbed, confessing that she had passed away years ago. I just stared at him with absolute ice in my veins and asked, if he couldn’t let her go, why didn’t he just go to the grave with her? 1 On our third anniversary, Joshua once again claimed he was too busy to celebrate. Even after I begged him, promising I had a massive surprise waiting for him. His voice remained flat, laced with irritation. “Grace, I really do not have the time today. Stop nagging me, alright?” Through the speaker, his voice was thick with exhaustion and alcohol, yet there was no background noise. No clinking glasses, no corporate chatter. Under what circumstances does a man drink heavily in complete silence? As the thought crossed my mind, the line went dead. The dial tone dropped into my stomach like a lead weight. I felt the weight sinking deeper, terrified of what I might find if I dug any further. Honestly, digging wouldn’t even make sense to me. Three years ago, Joshua supposedly fell in love with me at first sight. He pursued me aggressively from the moment we met. I never believed he was actually sincere. At the time, he was a thirty-year-old managing director. Sharp, mature, always in bespoke suits. I was fresh out of college. A naive, hyperactive design assistant who showed up to work in eccentric, colorful thrifted clothes. We were on entirely different frequencies. How could real feelings possibly develop between two people like that? I assumed he just found my aesthetic amusing. Something new to play with before tossing it aside. Plus, the massive gap in our social and financial standing made his pursuit feel almost predatory. I was terrified the office would start whispering that I was sleeping my way to the top. So, initially, I rejected him completely. But he didn’t stop. He spent three solid months trying to win me over. Fresh roses on my desk every single morning. Following my beat-up Vespa in his Audi just to make sure I got home safe. Stepping in to take the shots whenever a client tried to pressure me into drinking at networking events. When I called in sick with terrible cramps, he personally delivered premium ginger tea and hot water bottles… He actually brought me care packages all the time. I always pretended not to be home. I never opened the door. I never ate the food he left on the welcome mat. Maybe it was just the vulnerability of being in pain, genuinely wanting someone to care for me. But that day, I opened the door. I agreed to go out with him. His eyes actually welled up with tears. He reached out to pull me into a hug, but then clumsily stepped back. “I just came in from the cold. My jacket is freezing. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” His gentle, overwhelming consideration acted like warm honey, sealing over every crack in my heart. In a moment of profound weakness, I believed in his so-called true love. The very next day, he handed me an engagement ring. That was three years ago. But marriage wasn’t the fairytale I had envisioned. The moment the ink dried on the certificate, Joshua’s blazing passion seemed to evaporate instantly. He was still gentle, but it was a gentleness laced with a chilling, detached apathy. He stopped being eager. He stopped trying. The dynamic between us completely flipped. I became the one constantly doting on him, managing his life down to the smallest detail. He, on the other hand, began dictating mine. The phrase I heard the most was how I needed to change to better fit the title of “Mrs. Mercer.” As for anything else… If I begged for a sweet word, he would throw me one. Never two. And never unprompted. I was devastated. The paralyzing fear of being tricked flooded back. But his family, his status, his wealth—they all eclipsed mine entirely. And he had already married me. We were legally bound. What could he possibly be tricking me into? Eventually, I chalked it up to the classic male flaw. The thrill of the chase was over, so he stopped valuing the prize. I convinced myself to just suck it up and live a peaceful life. But the one thing I absolutely could not tolerate was exactly what was happening right now. Every single year on our anniversary, Joshua refused to come home. Every year, he used work as an excuse. No matter how much I pleaded, seduced, or screamed, he would not budge. Why? I realized today had to be a significant date for Joshua. It just had absolutely nothing to do with me. He was definitely hiding something monumental. The thought made my skin crawl. I couldn’t sit still anymore. I couldn’t stomach a single bite of the elaborate anniversary dinner I had spent all day cooking. Before Joshua came home, I marched straight into his home office. Where do I even start looking? The massive mahogany bookshelves were crammed with hundreds of spines, making me dizzy. I hated reading. I had hated it since I was a kid. Joshua spent half his life locked in this room. When his coldness first started, I used to wonder if I was just too shallow for him. Did he get bored of my face? Was my mind not complex enough to hold his interest? But if that was true, why didn’t he just divorce me? Carrying that massive, suffocating question, I started tearing the room apart for clues. My eyes quickly locked onto a specific shelf. Sandwiched between dense volumes of political history and economic theory was a row of brightly colored fiction novels. It was a glaring anomaly. I reached out and pulled one down. I flipped to the author’s biography on the back flap. Staring back at me was a photo of a woman who looked exactly like me. At least a seventy percent match. Her name was Harper. She had long, jet-black hair. Her aura was elegant, gentle, and refined. The glossy photo looked like it had been obsessively rubbed by a thumb over and over again, the ink around her lips slightly faded. A hazy memory surfaced. I suddenly remembered Joshua sitting in his leather chair, staring blankly at this exact book. It was right after we got married. I was young, clingy, and desperate for validation. I couldn’t comprehend why a man who had rushed to marry me after three months had suddenly turned to ice. I convinced myself we just hadn’t built a deep enough emotional foundation. So I was always trying to coax him, clinging to him, begging for his attention. One night, he was in the office reading. I walked in, whining dramatically, draped myself over his shoulders, and told him I felt sick and needed him to coddle me. His reaction was to physically push me out of the room. “I am incredibly busy every single day. I am exhausted to the point of nausea. I do not have the time or the energy to coddle you.” “Take care of yourself and stop being a burden to me. Do you understand?” As he slammed the heavy office door in my face, cold tears burned my flushed cheeks. I stood frozen in the hallway for a long time. He wasn’t even working. He was just reading a book. It wasn’t an emergency. I couldn’t understand why he refused to spare even a fraction of his energy for me. But looking at this book now, everything made terrifying sense. The book he was reading that night was the exact one I was holding right now. The author was Harper. It was a book written by the woman he actually loved. The delusional mirage of his desperate love for me collapsed instantly. The reality was blindingly clear. No wonder Joshua “fell in love at first sight.” I met him on my first day of work. The very next day, I received roses. At first, I didn’t get it. I thought it was some weird corporate hazing or a welcome gift for new hires. But then they arrived the next day. And the next. My coworkers started teasing me. “Wow, Grace, your boyfriend is really going all out.” My stomach dropped. I didn’t have a boyfriend. And the card on the flowers only had the boss’s last name—Mercer. Filled with anxiety and suspicion, I found Joshua’s contact in the company directory and messaged him. He bypassed all small talk and immediately confessed. “Do you believe in love at first sight?” “Make me believe it.” Even as a terrified junior employee, I shut him down immediately. “No, I don’t.” The corporate world is full of sleazy executives using their power to prey on young assistants. But I was still confused. Usually, those old creeps kept things discreet. They would send late-night texts pre-loaded with “I’m so drunk” to give themselves an out. Why was Joshua doing this completely out in the open? His relentless pursuit became the loudest gossip in the office. I couldn’t figure it out. My coworkers couldn’t figure it out. But it turned out… Joshua was the only one who knew exactly what he was doing. What I thought was a fairy-tale romance was actually a calculated, psychological trap. What I thought was winning the lottery was the most degrading scam imaginable. He never loved me. He was obsessed with the ghost I happened to resemble. Back then, I only shared a passing resemblance to Harper. But Joshua spotted me in a crowd and instantly claimed me. Then, he went to work carving me into her shape. My bright red hair? He manipulated me into dyeing it jet black. My eclectic thrift-store clothes? He commanded me to dress “appropriately.” My loud, chaotic personality? Crushed under his demands for me to be “composed.” I was nothing but a lump of clay. A custom-built mannequin designed to hold his sick desires. I looked closer at the book jacket. Harper’s birthdate was printed in the author bio. It was today. Why did Joshua refuse to celebrate our anniversary? Because he was out mourning someone else. He purposely chose to marry me on Harper’s birthday. She was the only woman he ever wanted to marry… He couldn’t stand the thought of another woman claiming the most important day of his life. I understood everything now. There was nothing left to uncover. A wild, feral weed seemed to sprout inside me, wrapping its thorny vines tightly around my freezing heart. An overwhelming, violent urge to destroy everything surged through my veins. I wanted to rip the photo of that woman to shreds. But I stopped myself. The mystery wasn’t completely solved. If Joshua was so deeply obsessed with Harper, why wasn’t he with her? Why did he go to such psychotic lengths to build a replica? I pulled out my phone and searched for Harper’s name. Absolute dead end. The suffocation in my chest tightened. The hatred burned hotter. But I decided not to trash his office just yet. If Joshua’s obsession ran this deep, destroying his shrine might cause him to instantly throw me out on the street. I refused to accept that outcome. Not because I was heartbroken and couldn’t bear to lose him. But because it was violently unfair! Why the hell should I be the only one humiliated and emotionally mutilated in this sick game? I wanted revenge. I wanted to play with his reality exactly the way he had played with mine. I wanted him to watch his carefully constructed masterpiece shatter into a million pieces right in front of his eyes. I wanted his last three years to be as worthless and hollow as mine! With that thought, I put my phone away. I didn’t call him. I didn’t touch the massive anniversary feast I had cooked either. Instead, I boiled a huge pot of spicy instant ramen. Before I met Joshua, I ate this garbage all the time. But he hated it. He despised the smell of the artificial spices lingering in the apartment. I loved him, so I respected his rules. I sacrificed my own comfort. But now I knew I had sacrificed it all for a ghost. It was time to unleash my true self and actually love the person in the mirror. After I finished eating, I left the apartment to completely obliterate my current aesthetic. Even though it was past midnight. For the past two years, the moment the clock struck twelve—the exact moment Harper’s birthday ended—Joshua would walk through the front door. But right now, I couldn’t care less if he came home or not. Would he feel the same sickening panic I felt when he abandoned me? I didn’t care. I booked a late-night appointment at a 24-hour salon. Hair and nails, the full package. I used to be obsessed with acrylic stilettos. I got them done so often I could type a hundred words a minute with them on. My coworkers used to joke I was an elegant, lethal crab hacking away at my keyboard. But Joshua hated them. After we got married, he insisted I quit my job and let him provide for me. I became completely dependent on him. I lost my financial independence, and I lost my right to choose my own nail shape. He claimed acrylics were tacky and unnatural. He said my bare, natural nails looked much more refined. Back then, I thought I was just making myself beautiful for the man I loved. So I happily complied. Same went for my hair and makeup. I used to dye my hair every color of the rainbow. Neon pink, electric orange, platinum blonde. After Joshua “suggested” a change, I spent three years with pin-straight, jet-black hair. By the time I walked out of the salon, I looked like an entirely different human being. When I used to leave the house, people joked I looked like a walking traffic light. Lately, everyone told me I looked like a strict high school English teacher. Maybe looking like a gentle, intellectual wife wasn’t inherently a bad thing. At first, I even liked the polished version of myself. But after a while, it felt like a prison. Looking exactly the same every single day made me sick of my own reflection. But whenever I brought up cutting it or changing the color, Joshua would shut it down. Even though he was highly educated, he would feed me insane lies about UV nail lamps causing cancer, or hair dye seeping into my brain… He blocked every single attempt I made to change my appearance. Because he didn’t give a damn about my health. He only cared about maintaining the illusion of her. Right now, I didn’t care about the health risks either, even though I probably should have. I was pregnant. But that was a problem that was going to be solved very, very soon. 2 At 1:00 AM, Joshua called me. He must have finally walked through the front door. I answered, and his voice was tight with irritation. “It’s the middle of the night. Where are you?” I replied with casual indifference. “Getting my hair done.” His tone spiked into angry panic. “What are you doing to your hair?” I recalled a toxic joke and let out a cold laugh. “Exactly what it sounds like.” “Do you think I’d look better with cherry red or neon green?” “Probably green, right? What do you think?” I hung up before he could respond. I had zero interest in his reaction, and I wasn’t about to let him ruin my mood. I flipped my phone to Do Not Disturb, mindlessly scrolling through Instagram while manually declining every single call he frantically dialed. By the time he hit his ninth attempt, I unlocked the front door, sporting a fresh, electric teal bob. I was wearing a floral, off-the-shoulder sundress that showed off my collarbones. In my hands were half a dozen shopping bags stuffed with even more loud, colorful dresses. “Where the hell have you been?!” The interrogation hit me before I could even catch my breath. I tilted my head. He was sitting at the dining table, his face drained of color. His dark eyes were swimming in a freezing, venomous rage. I had never seen Joshua look like this. A violent shiver ran down my spine. This was the real him. Dark, obsessive, and ruthless. Not only was he in love with a ghost projected onto my body, but the gentle, perfect husband I loved was entirely a hallucination too. Our entire three-year marriage was a grotesque, theatrical joke. A sharp retort burned on my tongue. I wanted to scream, Where the hell have YOU been?! But I swallowed it down. My psychological warfare had just begun. I wasn’t about to show my cards this early in the game. So I just laughed lightly and ran my fingers through my teal hair. “Isn’t it obvious? Do you like it?” Seeing my completely nonchalant attitude, Joshua’s meticulously crafted composure shattered into pieces. His brow furrowed violently, like jagged rocks exposed at low tide. His eyes bored directly into my scalp as he finally forced the words out. “Why would you suddenly do something like this to your hair?” I kept my tone perfectly breezy. “It’s not sudden at all. Didn’t I always dye my hair crazy colors before we met?” “I only kept it black because you said you liked it. I was accommodating you.” “But I don’t feel like accommodating you anymore. I feel like accommodating myself.” His voice exploded, hitting me like a physical shockwave. “I told you I was tied up with work yesterday and couldn’t make it back! Are you seriously throwing this kind of passive-aggressive tantrum over a scheduling conflict?!” “You refused to eat the dinner you cooked, you stunk up the house with that garbage instant ramen, and you mutilated yourself to look like an absolute mess! What exactly are you trying to accomplish?!” “Is one stupid anniversary really that important to you? Is it worth acting like a complete psycho?!” Yeah. An anniversary meant absolutely nothing to him. Because he hadn’t married the woman he actually loved. Of course there was nothing to celebrate. And now, it meant nothing to me either. So the one acting like a complete psycho screaming in the living room was him, not me. I sighed, cutting off his tirade. “Whether it’s the ramen or my ‘messy’ appearance, this is exactly who I am.” “If you found it so revolting, why did you hunt me down in the first place?” The conversation had accidentally steered straight toward the cliff edge. Would Joshua finally confess the truth? Absolutely not. He froze, his jaw clamped shut in suffocating silence. I had zero intention of interrogating him. I already knew the horrifying answer. I refused to stand there locked in a stalemate with him. I grabbed my shopping bags and walked past him toward the bedroom, tossing a fake smile over my shoulder. “I’m heading to the coast with some friends. That’s why I dyed it teal. Fits the beach vibe.” “I’ll be gone for three or four days. You’re going to have to hire a maid to clean up after yourself.” Joshua grabbed my bicep, his grip bruising. His voice was laced with a chilling, dominant fury. “Why didn’t you ask for my permission before deciding this?” His physical aggression crossed a line. It hurt. Even though I was trying to avoid a screaming match, my rage boiled over. “You know exactly why. You give orders, not opinions.” “Do I no longer have autonomy over my own physical body?!” I violently ripped my arm out of his grasp. I didn’t spare him another glance. I walked straight into the bedroom and started throwing clothes into a suitcase. A long minute passed before I heard his heavy, deliberate footsteps. He walked into his home office… My lungs seized. Would he notice I had been in there? Would he realize I had unearthed his sick secret? Would he finally drop the act, sit me down, and confess his psychotic manipulation? A million terrifying scenarios raced through my brain. Joshua delivered his answer a moment later. “My attitude just now was entirely out of line. I’m sorry.” The dark, venomous aura had vanished from his face. He looked exactly like the gentle, loving man who had courted me years ago.

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I’m an orphan. I grew up in the countryside on the edge of the pack territory. When I turned eighteen, my wealthy biological parents found me. They said there had been a mix-up at the hospital when I was born, which was why I’d been lost to them for so long. They brought me home, only to force me to marry a fool. My mother looked at me with scrutinizing eyes. “Leo may be a bit different from others, but his family is wealthy, and his father is a Beta in the pack. They won’t treat you poorly.” I looked at Leo, who was still drooling and grinning like an idiot, and refused outright. “Isn’t he Vivian’s fated mate? Her fiancé? And from what I know, he only became brain-damaged because he got seriously injured by Rogues while saving Vivian. Why isn’t she marrying him?” Vivian, my parents’ adopted daughter, instantly turned pale, tears streaming down her face. My mother grew anxious. “How can Vivian marry a fool?” My father also said coldly, “Alpha Declan has already set his sights on Vivian. How could a fool like that be worthy of her?” So that was it. They brought me home just to be a substitute bride. I laughed coldly. They had no idea—I was already married, and my husband was Declan. I called Declan directly. “Hey, I heard you’re getting married? How come you didn’t tell me?”

“Declan? The Alpha of Hailmark pack?” My mother Jenny Smith looked at me with a guarded expression. “How dare you call Alpha Declan by his name? And don’t you dare get any ideas you shouldn’t have.” “Someone like him isn’t for a country-raised wolf like you to dream about. Only someone like Vivian, a high-society lady we’ve cultivated since childhood, is worthy of him.” “As for you, marrying Leo is already the greatest fortune you could have. He’s a Beta’s son. If he weren’t brain-damaged, you wouldn’t even have this chance. You need to know your place.” She didn’t need to tell me. At this moment, I already understood clearly that these people didn’t bring me home for a family reunion—they just wanted me as a substitute bride. Fortunately, before I came back, I’d already prepared myself for the possibility that they might not love me. Now that I’d heard their schemes, I didn’t feel too disappointed or hurt. “You don’t want Vivian, the daughter you raised, to marry a fool, so you’re making me, your biological daughter, take her place.” “Even if you’re playing favorites, this is too much.” “If Vivian doesn’t want to marry him, just break off the engagement and give them more compensation. Why do you have to force me to marry a fool?” My father Tom Smith blurted out, “We have an agreement with them. Besides, Leo’s family has already given us gifts worth twenty million for this marriage arrangement. We can’t just call it off.” Realizing he’d said too much, he quickly corrected himself. “Anyway, matters between elite families aren’t as simple as you think. You must marry him. It’s a matter of integrity.” I’d heard that Vivian and Leo were fated mates and had been dating for a while. Now it seemed that once Leo became brain-damaged, Vivian started despising him. After hearing Jenny and Tom’s words, I completely understood. They’d already accepted expensive gifts from Leo’s family and couldn’t break the engagement. But they didn’t want their precious Vivian to marry him, so they set their sights on me. What a brilliant scheme. Too bad they were going to be disappointed. A smile curved my lips. “I understand. But unfortunately, I still can’t marry Leo, because I…” Already have a husband. But before I could finish, Jenny slapped me across the face. “I knew you were trouble. Don’t tell me you’re fantasizing about marrying Alpha Declan yourself?” “He’s the Alpha of our Hailmark pack. A country girl like you isn’t even worthy of shining his shoes. Stop dreaming.” I covered my face, looking at Jenny in disbelief, wanting to kindly remind her again. “What I meant to say is, Declan could never marry Vivian.”

“So Rhea wants to marry Alpha Declan. In that case, I’ll marry the fool instead. Mom, please don’t make things difficult for my sister.” Vivian immediately acted as if I’d stolen her beloved, throwing herself into Jenny’s arms, tears streaming down her face. I was dumbfounded. I wanted to ask—you’re so deeply in love with Declan, does he even know who you are? I couldn’t help rolling my eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself. What I meant is…” “Enough.” Jenny held Vivian tightly and coldly interrupted me. “Rhea, how can you be so shameless? You just got here and you’re already trying to steal Vivian’s man.” “What do you mean? Alpha Declan won’t look at Vivian, but he’ll look at a good-for-nothing country girl like you?” “Let me tell you, the Smith family has received an invitation to a banquet hosted by Alpha Declan. Don’t you understand what that means?” I shook my head cluelessly. “No, I don’t.” Tom snorted coldly, opening his mouth with a smug expression. “Alpha Declan just returned from the pack border and immediately invited the Smith family to a banquet. Isn’t it obvious he’s taken a liking to our Vivian and wants to get close to her?” “Vivian is a carefully cultivated lady, the most beautiful socialite in Hailmark pack. Alpha Declan must have heard of Vivian’s reputation, which is why he can’t wait to approach her under this pretense.” Tom looked at me with disdain. “You wouldn’t understand the complex rules of these circles.” “Don’t think that just because you’re the Smith family’s biological daughter, you can rise to the top. Vivian is a high-society lady we’ve invested heavily in cultivating since childhood. You can’t compare.” I shook my head. Not a single person in this family was normal. They didn’t stop to think—with Declan’s status, why would he send them an invitation? Just because of their publicly traded company whose funding chain was about to break? It was all because of me, Declan’s wife. Declan is my fated mate. A few months ago, he went to the pack border to fight off Rogues and met me. We fell in love at first sight and got married quickly. When the Smith family wanted to bring me home, Declan wanted to come with me. I refused and told him to go back and handle pack affairs first. As a compromise, he planned to host a banquet and sent the Smith family an invitation. He only invited them out of consideration for me, but they actually thought it was because of Vivian’s beauty. No wonder their company was going bankrupt. I couldn’t help but laugh mockingly. “So you’ve been carefully cultivating her since childhood, planning to sell her for a good price when she grows up?” “Besides, Declan doesn’t like girls like her at all.” Declan hated weak, delicate types the most. In his eyes, they were useless idiots. Vivian’s face paled. Jenny pointed at me furiously and scolded. “As expected of someone raised in the countryside—no manners at all. How can you say such vulgar things?” “And how would you know Alpha Declan doesn’t like someone like Vivian? I think you’re just jealous.” “With Vivian’s beauty, I’m telling you, there’s no man who wouldn’t be attracted.” Tom also looked at me with disdain. “Even if you’re jealous, it won’t help. Vivian will marry Alpha Declan sooner or later.” “With your crude behavior, don’t even dream of catching Alpha Declan’s eye.” “As long as you obediently do as you’re told and marry Leo, we won’t treat you poorly in the future. But if you harbor inappropriate thoughts, don’t blame us for being ruthless.” This was a threat, but they’d threatened the wrong person. I really wanted to see their expressions when they learned the truth. I decided not to reveal the truth just yet. I smiled enigmatically. “What if Alpha Declan likes someone exactly like me?” “Want to make a bet? If Alpha Declan doesn’t like someone like me, I’ll agree to obediently marry that fool. If he does like someone like me, then you’ll…” Before I could finish, Jenny’s mocking laughter interrupted me. “You think you could win Alpha Declan’s favor? How ridiculous.” “You don’t need to finish. Whatever it is, we agree.” Vivian also looked at me smugly. “Then I’ll thank you in advance for agreeing to marry Leo.” I raised an eyebrow, looking at the message from Declan that popped up on my phone. The show was about to begin. “I hope you get your wish.”

The Smith family arranged a storage room for me—dark, damp, and smelling of mold. As soon as I entered the room, I opened my phone messages. Declan’s messages came pouring in. “Baby, how did it go? Were they excited to see you? Did they frantically try to make it up to you?” “Did they love you? Did they cry and hug you?” “I said I’d come with you, but you refused. I really want to see you reunite with your family. It must have been so emotional and moving, with everyone in tears.” “Is it too late to come now? I miss you already after being apart for just a little while. Do you miss me?” I shook my head at the messages. Others probably couldn’t imagine that the usually cold and decisive Declan had such a clingy side. Unfortunately, he’d guessed wrong. I told him what happened. He immediately called, his voice angry. “Baby, how can they treat you like this? They’re so blind.” “I’m coming to get you right now and show them how wrong they are.” I refused directly. “No need. I have a better idea.” “Let them be happy for now.” I explained my plan. Declan nodded. “Okay, whatever you say, baby. I just don’t want you to suffer. How can you stay in a storage room?” “It’s fine. It’s only three days.” “But can you check something for me? I suspect I’m not actually their daughter.” No one would treat their biological daughter this outrageously. I suspected this was all a scam. “Okay.” Declan readily agreed. After hanging up, smelling the moldy odor in the room, I really couldn’t stand it. I’d spoken too confidently earlier—three days would be really hard to endure. But then Jenny knocked on the door. “Declan’s banquet has been moved up to tonight. Don’t forget what you promised—to marry Leo.” I froze. Declan had moved up the banquet. Seeing that I didn’t respond, she thought I was going back on my word and quickly said, “You promised this yourself. You can’t go back on it.” I looked at her with a half-smile. “Don’t leave out half of what I said. I said if Declan doesn’t like me, then I’ll marry Leo.” She snorted coldly. “Is there any way that could change? He’d have to be crazy to like a country girl like you.” “Remember, important people will be at the banquet tonight. Don’t you dare embarrass the Smith family, or I’ll skin you alive.” I nodded indifferently. When we were about to leave, Tom frowned at me. “You’re going to the banquet dressed like that? Not even wearing a gown? Are you deliberately trying to embarrass the Smith family?” “But you didn’t give me…” Vivian immediately spoke up with fake concern, her eyes red. “Dad, don’t blame Rhea. She grew up in the countryside, so she doesn’t know you need to wear a gown to a banquet.” “Rhea, I have a few gowns in my room you can wear. But the banquet is about to start, so…” Jenny waved her hand. “Someone like her wouldn’t look like a socialite no matter what gown she wears. Just leave it.” A smug smile appeared on Vivian’s lips. But when I was about to get in the car, Vivian blocked me. “Rhea, the car is full. Why don’t you take a taxi?” The car drove off. This family—this was an upscale neighborhood. Where was I supposed to find a taxi? I called Declan directly. “They left me behind. Send a car to pick me up immediately.”

Forty minutes later, I appeared at the banquet hall in a haute couture gown. Declan had wanted to accompany me, but I refused. I didn’t want to reveal everything so quickly. When people saw me, they all started looking me over, their eyes full of amazement. “Who is she? Her temperament and looks are absolutely stunning. I’ve never seen her before.” “I haven’t either. She’s like a fairy descended from heaven. I must go introduce myself.” The commotion also caught the Smith family’s attention. Vivian’s eyes were full of jealousy. Then she spoke with red-rimmed eyes. “Rhea, how could you steal a gown? This gown is a custom piece from Paris Fashion Week. I remember Alpha Declan bought it at auction. You actually stole something from Alpha Declan.” Jenny immediately chimed in. “How dare you steal from Alpha Declan? This is a gift Alpha Declan planned to give our Vivian. Take it off right now.” “Stealing things at home was bad enough, but now you’ve stolen from Alpha Declan. You really don’t know your limits.” I actually laughed at this. This family just spouted lies without a second thought. Everyone’s initial amazement turned to disgust. “So she’s from the countryside and dared to steal Alpha Declan’s gown. She really doesn’t know her place.” “From what they just said, this gown was meant for Vivian. I heard before that Alpha Declan bought a lot of jewelry abroad to give to his beloved. So it’s true.” Everyone started crowding around Vivian to flatter her. “Vivian is stunningly beautiful. She and Alpha Declan are truly a match made in heaven.” “Once Vivian marries Alpha Declan, the Smith family will rise to another level. Congratulations!” Vivian acted as if she was really about to marry Declan, blushing shyly. “The wedding date hasn’t been set yet. I’ll definitely invite everyone to our wedding.” I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “Vivian, does Declan even know he’s marrying you?” Vivian’s face paled. “Rhea, what do you mean? Do you think that by stealing the gown he meant to give me, you can impersonate me?” I rolled my eyes. I really didn’t know how the Smith family raised her to have such a personality. Declan had said he’d never even met Vivian. She received one invitation and already imagined herself marrying him. How absurd. I pointed at the gown I was wearing. “This gown was a gift from my husband. I didn’t steal it from you.” Everyone burst into laughter. “You say your husband gave it to you? Don’t tell me your husband is Alpha Declan?” I smiled coldly. “What do you think?” “But Declan doesn’t need to marry me, because…” Before I could finish, Vivian interrupted me. “Rhea, you’re degrading yourself by wanting to be Alpha Declan’s mistress.” “Being the kind of woman who throws herself at someone without wanting any title—even though you just came back from the countryside, you can’t disgrace the family like this. You’re humiliating the Smith family.” Jenny also looked at me coldly. “Rhea, enough. Are you trying to ruin the Smith family’s reputation? Get out of here right now and prepare to marry Leo. Stop making a fool of yourself.” I just wanted to say that Declan didn’t need to marry me because we were already married. We’d just returned to the city from the pack border, and Declan hadn’t had time to announce his marriage yet. Seeing that the time was about right, I didn’t want to keep playing along with them anymore. I took out my phone. “Declan, I heard you’re getting married. Did you forget to tell me?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “387043”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

On our third wedding anniversary, my husband Ethan Foster didn’t come home all night. I saw a message on the phone he’d left at home. “Ethan, Aria’s back in the country today. That bet you made back then should be over now, right? Three years. Aren’t you tired of playing happy couple with that substitute yet?” Ethan replied: “A fake will always be a fake. The game’s over. I’ll give her some money and send her on her way.” The next second, a video arrived on my phone. In the video, Ethan was passionately kissing Aria, her clothes half undone. He even said affectionately, “Aria, I love you.” So after three years of marriage, I was just a stand-in for his first love. Since it was fake, since it was all a game. Ethan Foster, I’m done playing. Natalie’s POV In the third year of my marriage to Ethan Foster, I thought I was the happiest woman in the world. Ethan was one of this city’s most powerful elites. Decisive, ruthless, and cold. Yet he seemed to save all his tenderness and patience for me alone. He would turn down billion-dollar contracts just to pick me up after my simultaneous interpretation conferences ended. He would drive across half the city on freezing winter nights just to buy me a cake I’d casually mentioned. He even personally planted an entire greenhouse of white roses for me in our wedding home. Everyone said Ethan Foster was madly in love with me. I believed it wholeheartedly myself. Until today. Our third wedding anniversary. I’d turned down an overseas translation position with the UN headquarters and came home early to prepare an elaborate dinner. The clock struck ten PM. Ethan still hadn’t returned. I sat on the sofa and picked up an old tablet Ethan had left at home. The screen lit up, and a notification chimed abruptly. It was a group chat named “Bad Boys Club.” I hadn’t intended to snoop, but the message that popped up on the screen was like a poisoned ice needle stabbing straight into my eyes. “Mr. Carter: Ethan, Aria’s back in the country. Just finalized her divorce. That bet you made back then should be over now, right? Three years. Aren’t you tired of playing happy couple with that substitute yet?” My breathing stopped cold. Aria? Aria Sinclair? Ethan’s first love, the one who’d gone overseas and married a Wall Street tycoon? The messages in the group kept coming. “Mr. Hayes: Yeah, back then Aria thought your assets weren’t stable enough and married someone else. You got pissed and made that bet. Said you’d find a woman with the same temper and same eyes as her, and train her to be the most obedient dog. Now Natalie’s completely devoted to you and Aria’s back. Time for the substitute to exit, right?” My whole body went cold. My fingers trembled uncontrollably as I scrolled up. Then I saw Ethan’s reply from half an hour ago. “Ethan Foster: A fake will always be a fake. The game’s over. I’ll give her some money and send her on her way.” Fake. Game over. Send me on my way. Those few short words were like a rusted, dull knife, slicing and shredding all the sweetness and happiness of these three years into bloody ribbons. So that meticulous tenderness was fake. Those late-night cakes were fake. That roomful of white roses was fake too. White roses. Aria Sinclair’s favorite flower. And I was nothing but a substitute chosen because my eyes and temperament resembled Aria’s, used by Ethan Foster to get revenge on his first love and vent his resentment! A plaything to win a bet! “Click.” The villa’s front door opened. Ethan walked in with a chill clinging to him. He wore a perfectly tailored black designer suit, his features deep and devastatingly handsome. Seeing me sitting on the sofa, he paused briefly, then put on that warm smile I knew so well. “Natalie, why are you still up? Didn’t I say you didn’t need to wait for me?” He walked over, habitually moving to pull me into his embrace. But I caught a faint scent of perfume. Jo Malone Bluebell. Not my scent. Aria Sinclair’s favorite. I stiffly avoided his touch. Ethan’s hand fell empty. His brow furrowed imperceptibly, but quickly smoothed out again. “Sorry, there was an emergency acquisition at the company tonight. Meeting ran until now. Even missed our anniversary. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow, okay?” He was lying. Even his lies looked so tender and flawless. I lifted my head and quietly looked at this man I’d loved for three years. “Ethan,” My voice was hoarse. “Were you really at a meeting tonight?” Ethan’s eyes flickered for an instant, then he laughed lightly and ruffled my hair. “Of course. Where else would I be? Stop overthinking. Get some rest.” He didn’t look at the table full of food that had long gone cold. He didn’t notice the tablet still glowing under the sofa cushion. He walked straight toward the bathroom. Listening to the sound of running water from the bathroom, I slowly closed my eyes. My heart felt like it was being crushed by an invisible hand, the pain making it nearly impossible to breathe. But I didn’t cry. I had the same pride as Aria Sinclair. Perhaps even more. Since it was fake, since it was a game. Ethan, I’m not playing anymore.

Natalie’s POV The next morning, I sat in the dining room as usual. Ethan came downstairs looking refreshed, as if last night’s late return and lies had never happened. He naturally pulled out a chair and sat across from me, picking up his coffee and taking a sip with elegant, refined movements. “Natalie, I need to discuss something with you.” Ethan set down his coffee cup, his tone as casual as if discussing the weather. I cut into the fried egg on my plate without looking up. “What is it?” “A friend of mine just got back to the country and ran into some trouble. She doesn’t have a suitable place to stay. I’m planning to let her move into the guest house behind our villa for a while.” Friend. My grip on the knife and fork paused slightly. The blade scraped across the porcelain plate with a harsh screech. I looked straight into Ethan’s eyes. “Which friend? Male or female?” Ethan’s brow furrowed slightly, as if displeased by my questioning, but he still answered patiently. “Female. An old friend. Aria Sinclair.” He didn’t even bother hiding the name. Perhaps in his view, I was a canary he’d tamed for three years. I couldn’t cause any trouble, and he didn’t need to waste effort fabricating lies. “Aria Sinclair?” I pulled at the corner of my mouth. “Your ex-girlfriend, your first love. You want her to move into our home?” Ethan’s expression darkened, his voice growing colder. “Natalie, don’t be unreasonable. Aria just got divorced and left with nothing. She’s emotionally unstable right now, even showing signs of depression. As a friend, helping her is only natural. Weren’t you always the most understanding one?” Understanding. So my three years of patience and accommodation were just bargaining chips he could trample over my boundaries with. “I don’t agree.” I set down my knife and fork. “Ethan, I’m your wife. I will never allow your ex-girlfriend to live in my home.” “Natalie!” Ethan slammed his hand on the table, his eyes showing undisguised irritation and coldness. “I’m informing you, not asking your permission.” He stood up, looking down at me from above, tearing off that tender façade to reveal the dominance and tyranny of a capitalist at his core. “The guest house doesn’t get good light. Aria has mild depression and needs more sunlight. Clear out your translation studio on the second floor and turn it into a bedroom for her.” I was thunderstruck, staring at him in disbelief. That translation studio was my workspace, filled with rare foreign books I’d collected and translation manuscripts I’d poured countless hours into. And he wanted to destroy my private sanctuary just to make room for Aria Sinclair? “That’s my studio!” My voice trembled slightly. “Ethan, what gives you the right?” “The fact that this villa is in my name.” Ethan coldly dropped that line, then turned to the butler standing nearby. “Clear out the second-floor studio today and replace everything with French furniture Aria likes. If Mrs. Foster tries to stop you, move everything by force.” With that, he didn’t even glance at me before striding out of the villa. The door slammed shut with a bang that made my heart lurch violently. I looked at the breakfast spread across the table and suddenly felt my stomach churning. The butler approached with several servants, looking troubled. “Mrs. Foster, about this…” I took a deep breath and forced back the sting in my eyes. “Move it.” I closed my eyes. “Pack all my things and put them in the basement.” Since he wanted to make room, I’d clear everything out for him. Not just the studio, but my place in this house as well. Ethan Foster, you think winning your bet means you can trample my dignity at will? You’re wrong. I, Natalie Sullivan, have never been anyone’s substitute.

Natalie’s POV The day Aria Sinclair moved in, light rain was falling. Ethan personally drove to pick her up. When they walked into the villa side by side, I was sitting on the living room sofa proofreading a German translation manuscript. Aria Sinclair was indeed beautiful. The kind of beauty that carried a delicate fragility favored by time. Her eyes were almost identical to mine. Aria’s gaze was like a pool of spring water, capable of drowning anyone at any moment. “Ethan, this must be Miss Sullivan?” Seeing me, Aria smiled faintly, her expression carrying a subtle appraisal and an air of superiority. She called me Miss Sullivan, not Mrs. Foster. Ethan didn’t correct her. He simply gave a light “Mm,” then turned to Aria with a voice so gentle it could drip honey. “The room’s been decorated according to your preferences. Go upstairs and see if you like it. Tell me directly if anything’s missing.” Watching this scene, I felt nothing but irony. For three years, Ethan had been this gentle with me too. But only today did I understand. When he looked at me tenderly, he was never seeing me. He was looking at another woman’s shadow through my eyes. At dinner, the atmosphere at the table was bizarrely tense. Ethan seemed to have forgotten my existence, all his attention on Aria Sinclair. “Aria, try this. I had the chef make it specially. It used to be your favorite.” Aria smiled shyly. “Thank you, Ethan. You still remember my tastes.” Then she turned to look at me with feigned surprise. “Why isn’t Miss Sullivan eating? Is the food not to your liking?” I looked at the dishes I didn’t like before me, my stomach cramping. I’m severely allergic to cilantro. Even a little bit makes my whole body break out in red welts, and I can have difficulty breathing. In three years of marriage, Ethan had never allowed a single sprig of cilantro on our table. But today, to cater to Aria’s tastes, nearly every dish on the table contained cilantro. “I’m not hungry.” I said. Only then did Ethan glance at me, his brow furrowing. “Eat something even if you’re not hungry. Don’t sit there with that cold face. Aria just arrived, and as the lady of the house, don’t you have even this much grace?” Grace? I laughed coldly inside. He brought his first love brazenly into our home, took over my studio, and now wanted me to smile graciously? “I said I’m not hungry.” I stood up, meeting Ethan’s gaze without backing down. “You two enjoy.” I turned to leave, but Aria suddenly teared up, pulling on Ethan’s sleeve pitifully. “Ethan, am I making Miss Sullivan unhappy by being here? Maybe I should move out. I don’t want to damage your relationship…” “Sit down.” Ethan grasped Aria’s hand reassuringly, then whipped his head toward me, his eyes sharp as knives. “Natalie, apologize to Aria!” My footsteps halted. I turned back, looking at him in disbelief. “What did you say?” “I said apologize!” Ethan’s voice rose several notches, carrying undeniable authority. “Aria is a guest. What kind of hospitality is this?” I looked at Ethan’s face. The one I’d once been so infatuated with. Now finding it terrifyingly unfamiliar. I didn’t cry or make a scene. I just looked at him quietly. “I did nothing wrong. I will never apologize.” With that, I went upstairs without looking back. Behind me, Ethan’s voice came, suppressing fury. “Natalie, don’t be ungrateful!” I closed the bedroom door, shutting out all the noise. I leaned against the door and slowly slid to the floor. The torn hole in my heart was howling as bone-chilling wind poured through. Ethan Foster, just how cruel is your heart?

Natalie’s POV The annual charity gala was high society’s most watched social event. As head of Foster Group, Ethan always attended with me in previous years. I’d prepared for this for half a month, even turning down an important translation conference just to walk the red carpet with him. On the afternoon of the gala, I changed into the starlight blue haute couture gown Ethan had personally selected for me half a month ago. The skirt swayed with glittering starlight. I sat at my vanity, waiting for Ethan to come home and pick me up. Time ticked by until only one hour remained before the gala started. Only then did Ethan’s call finally come. “Natalie, you don’t need to go to the gala tonight.” On the other end, Ethan’s voice was calm without a ripple. My grip on the phone tightened sharply. “Why?” “Aria just got back to the country and needs to reintegrate into this circle. Tonight’s gala is a good opportunity. I’m taking her.” Ethan said matter-of-factly. “You never liked these social obligations anyway. Stay home and rest.” My heart felt like it had been struck by a heavy hammer, the pain making my vision go black. “Ethan, I’m your legal wife.” My voice trembled slightly as I struggled to maintain my last shred of dignity. “You’re taking your ex-girlfriend to this kind of public event. What does that make me look like? What do you take me for?” “It’s just walking a red carpet. Don’t be so sensitive.” Ethan’s tone carried a trace of impatience. “Aria’s very fragile right now. She needs my support. Be reasonable and don’t make this difficult for me.” With that, he hung up without hesitation. Listening to the busy signal on the phone, I looked at myself in the mirror, dressed to the nines, and suddenly felt utterly ridiculous. Be reasonable. These three years, I’d been too reasonable. That’s why he thought I was an object he could knead at will and discard at any time. At eight PM, the gala officially began. I sat on the living room sofa and turned on the television. On screen, they were broadcasting the red carpet segment live. When Ethan’s car stopped at the red carpet entrance, the scene’s camera flashes blazed like daylight. The car door opened. Ethan stepped out first, then gentlemanly extended his hand. A slender, pale hand placed itself in his palm. Aria Sinclair wore a pure white haute couture gown, looking like a proud white swan as she took Ethan’s arm and gracefully walked up the red carpet. They looked so well-matched. The reporters at the scene instantly erupted. “Mr. Foster, is this beautiful lady your new companion?” “Mr. Foster, there are rumors you’ve rekindled your romance with your first love, Aria Sinclair. Is it true?” “Mr. Foster, why didn’t your wife Natalie attend tonight? Is there a crisis in your marriage?” Facing the reporters’ rapid-fire questions, Ethan neither denied nor explained. He simply turned his head slightly to look at Aria beside him, the corner of his mouth curving into an indulgent smile, then escorted her into the venue under the bodyguards’ protection. That one look said more than a thousand words. My phone suddenly vibrated. A message from Aria Sinclair. In the photo, Aria leaned on Ethan’s shoulder. They both held champagne glasses against the backdrop of the gala’s luxurious interior. The caption was just one short line. “Miss Sullivan, I’ve taken back what belongs to me.” I didn’t reply or angrily smash my phone. I simply pressed the lock button calmly and tossed the phone aside. When all expectations have been crushed into mud, all that remains is absolute clarity. I stood up, returned to the bedroom, and pulled out the suitcase from under the bed. It was time to end this absurd farce.

Natalie’s POV I was nearly finished packing when I received a call from my professor. “Natalie, the senior simultaneous interpretation position at UN headquarters in Geneva. They’re very impressed with your credentials. If you’re willing, you can fly over next week to sign the contract and start. This has always been your dream. What do you think?” I looked at the empty wardrobe, utterly resolute. “I’m willing to go. Please help me reply to them that I’ll report on time next week.” After hanging up, a long-lost sense of relief surged through me. These three years, I’d given up too much to be a good Mrs. Foster. Now I was going to reclaim Natalie Sullivan’s life, piece by piece. The next afternoon, I was organizing an extremely important rare German manuscript on the living room table. This was a unique copy I’d spent half a year restoring and translating for an old professor. I had to submit it tomorrow. In the time it took me to get water from the kitchen, a sudden “crash” came from the living room. My heart lurched as I rushed back. Aria stood by the coffee table, holding an empty coffee cup. And that precious German manuscript was now soaking in a pool of dark brown coffee, the text rapidly bleeding and blurring. Completely ruined. “Oops, I’m so sorry.” Aria covered her mouth, but her face showed no trace of remorse. Instead, it carried a provocative sneer. “I thought this was just a pile of waste paper. My hand slipped and the coffee spilled. Miss Sullivan won’t mind, will you?” Looking at my destroyed work, blood rushed to my head. I walked forward and raised my hand. “Crack!” I slapped Aria hard across the face. I used all my strength in that slap. Aria’s head snapped to the side, five clear finger marks instantly appearing on her pale face. “How dare you hit me?!” Aria clutched her face and screamed. Just then, the front door opened and Ethan strode in. Seeing the scene before him, his expression instantly darkened to the extreme. “Natalie, what are you doing?!” Ethan quickly stepped forward, pulling Aria protectively behind him and shoving me hard. He hadn’t used much force, but I felt that shove push me straight into an abyss. I staggered back two steps, my waist hitting the hard edge of the coffee table. I sucked in a sharp breath from the pain. But I didn’t cry out. I just stared fixedly at Ethan. “Ethan, I just accidentally dirtied a few pieces of her waste paper, and she hit me…” Aria hid behind Ethan, tears streaming down her face. Ethan looked at the manuscript on the floor, his brow furrowed, then turned to glare at me furiously. “Natalie, have you lost your mind? It’s just a few pieces of scrap paper. If they’re ruined, they’re ruined. How dare you hit someone?” Scrap paper? I laughed bitterly. That was half a year of my heart’s blood, an invaluable academic treasure. To him, it was just scrap paper. He’d never respected my profession, never respected my soul. All he wanted was an obedient shell with Aria’s shadow. “Ethan, that was half a year of my work.” I said. “She deliberately destroyed it. One slap is what she deserves.” “Enough!” Ethan cut me off sharply. “How much could a translation manuscript be worth? A hundred thousand? A million? I’ll compensate your client! Now apologize to Aria immediately!” Using money to measure my heart’s blood, using authority to force me to bow my head. Looking at this unreasonable man before me, I suddenly felt utterly exhausted. I straightened my spine. “I will never apologize to her. Ethan Foster, you disgust me.” With that, I walked past them and went straight upstairs, never looking back once.

Natalie’s POV After that argument, the villa fell into a deathly cold war. I completely treated Ethan as air. I no longer prepared his breakfast, no longer asked about his schedule. Even when we passed each other in the hallway, I would look away, as if he were just a transparent stranger. For three years, I’d been completely obedient to him, loved him to my bones. As long as he gave me the cold shoulder even slightly, sooner or later I couldn’t stand it and would run to him to apologize. He had absolute confidence and arrogance. However, three days passed, five days passed. I still ignored him. That evening, Ethan came home unusually early. He carried an exquisite velvet gift box containing a pink diamond necklace worth tens of millions. It was a piece of jewelry I’d glanced at twice in an auction catalog last month. He probably still naively thought that as long as he produced this, I would tear up with emotion like before and throw myself into his arms. He pushed open the bedroom door. I was sitting by the window reading. “Still angry?” Ethan walked over and placed the gift box on the table in front of me, his tone carrying a kind of condescending tenderness. “See if you like it. You looked at it twice last time, so I had someone bid on it specially. Forget about the manuscript incident. Don’t quarrel with Aria anymore. Consider this necklace your compensation.” I set down my book and looked at that dazzling pink diamond necklace. If this were before, I might have felt touched. But now, I only felt sad. A slap and a sweet treat. He really did see me as a dog. “Thank you.” I didn’t refuse or show delight. I simply closed the gift box calmly and pushed it aside. Ethan looked at my face, his brow furrowing slightly. “Just ‘thank you’? Natalie, I’ve already given you a way out. Don’t push your luck.” “I accepted it. What more do you want?” I raised my head. Ethan snorted coldly. “Good that you accepted it. Clear your schedule tomorrow night and come have dinner with me.” With that, he turned and left the bedroom. He thought he’d successfully placated me, not knowing that I’d only accepted the necklace to avoid any more pointless arguments with him. The next morning, I went to a law firm. “Miss Sullivan, are you certain you want to give up all marital property and leave with nothing?” The lawyer looked at the drafted divorce agreement and couldn’t help confirming again. “Given Mr. Foster’s net worth, you could easily claim a very substantial settlement.” “I’m certain.” I picked up the pen and signed my name on the agreement without hesitation. I didn’t want a single cent. Ethan’s money made me feel dirty. I just wanted to leave cleanly and sever all ties with him. Walking out of the law office with the signed divorce agreement, I looked up at the sky. The sunlight was blinding, but it dispersed the gloom that had accumulated in my heart for three years. Tomorrow was my birthday. It was also the day I would leave this place. Ethan Foster, what we had is finally ending.

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To cancel the arranged marriage, I begged my mother to replace my photo with one covered in acne scars. All because Angel Williams, the heiress of a wealthy family, was an extreme looks-obsessed person. Anyone ugly who came within three meters of her would be thrown out by her bodyguards. I hid my handsome, refined face and pretended to be ugly every day, until Diana appeared. On the day she proposed to me, she held my hand and promised: “Julian, I don’t care about your appearance. No matter what you look like, I will always love you.” I believed her. Despite my mother’s objections, I insisted on getting engaged to her. But on our wedding day, during the ring exchange, she looked lovingly at her first love’s plastic surgery face, shook off my hand, and fled the wedding on the spot. The guests erupted in an uproar, casting sympathetic glances my way. But I just smiled. So it was this simple to see a woman’s true colors. Perfect. Now I could become the Williams family heir with peace of mind.

The wedding march came to an abrupt halt. The undisguised mockery and contempt from the guests nearly swallowed me whole. “How humiliating! He can’t even keep his own woman!” “I told you so. How could Diana, the heir to the Peters family, actually marry such an ugly freak!” “I bet Miss Diana regretted it. I mean, with that face, you’d have nightmares just looking at it at night!” My knuckles turned white as I gripped the bouquet. In my line of sight, Diana was staring intently at her phone screen. On it was a shocking crimson photo of slashed wrists. She looked up, her face full of anxiety, her eyes showing a hint of guilt and pleading as she looked at me. “Julian, Manuel slit his wrists. He’s in the hospital being resuscitated right now!” “I have to go. Wait for me to come back, and I’ll definitely give you an explanation!” I looked at her coldly, my voice not loud, yet it carried clearly throughout the silent chapel. “Diana, if you walk out that door today, we’re completely finished.” The moment my words fell, Diana’s footsteps suddenly froze. She turned around, her face full of struggle. “Julian…” But the next second, from her bridesmaids behind her, one of her childhood friends loudly chimed in: “Diana, just go! Julian loves you so much, he’s not going anywhere, right?” “Besides, with Julian looking like that, who would dare to steal him away!” Sharp laughter instantly filled the entire banquet hall. I ignored those voices, just quietly watched Diana, and said word by word: “If you dare to leave today, I dare to marry someone else.” She froze for a moment, then a smile I’d never seen before appeared at the corners of her mouth. “Julian, stop making a fuss. Besides me, who else would want you?” “Wait for me to come back, I’ll definitely make it up to you!” With that, she turned around without hesitation and rushed out of the wedding hall resolutely. The moment the door closed, what surfaced in my mind was three years ago, the day I first met Diana. I was being surrounded and humiliated for being ugly, and she descended like a god, draping her coat over me. She gently wiped the dirt from my face with a handkerchief, her voice as tender as spring water: “Don’t listen to them. You’re good-looking.” Back then, her eyes were clean and sincere. But now… A mocking smile curved at my lips. She was certain I was ugly, certain I couldn’t leave her, so she dared to trample my dignity so brazenly. Under all those sympathetic yet contemptuous gazes, I calmly pulled off my tie and threw it on the ground. I turned around and walked toward the dressing room without looking back. Sitting in front of the vanity mirror, I picked up a wet wipe and slowly wiped my cheeks. The dense acne marks were wiped away, revealing a handsome, striking face. The door opened, and my mother walked in. Looking at me, she sighed heavily. “Julian, the Williams family sent someone. They’re asking about the arranged marriage again…” Before she could finish, my phone vibrated with a buzz. It was a message from Diana on SnapChat: [Julian, Manuel’s been resuscitated. He’s very scared. I need to stay with him tonight. Let’s postpone the wedding, okay?] Immediately after, there was a new notification on Ins—it was Manuel’s post. A photo of Diana peeling an apple for him at his bedside, her profile gentle and focused. The caption read: [As long as you abandon everything for me, that’s enough.] A mocking arc formed at the corner of my mouth. Just as I was about to block and delete both of them, Diana’s call came through. “Julian, issue a statement saying you suddenly fell ill, that’s why we canceled the wedding.” “Manuel can’t handle stress… and besides, you don’t like seeing people anyway.” Don’t like seeing people? Ha! Just because I’m ugly, my emotions don’t matter to her? I couldn’t be bothered to deal with Diana anymore and hung up directly. Then, facing the mirror, I used makeup remover to wipe away the makeup on my face bit by bit. A stunningly handsome face appeared in the mirror, striking enough to shock anyone.

My mother looked at my restored face, her expression complicated as she sighed: “Child, if it was going to be like this, why did you pretend to be ugly in the first place?” My eyes swept across my reflection in the mirror. The person in the mirror had eyes like cold stars, a high nose bridge, and sharp features, looking exactly like my father in his youth. Father married my mother through an arranged marriage, abandoning his first love. Before he died, he clutched my hand and said: “Julian, you must marry someone you truly love in the future. Only then will you be happy.” That’s why when I learned I was to have an arranged marriage with that pampered princess from the Williams family, I deliberately made myself ugly. I didn’t want an arranged marriage. I didn’t want to become someone like my father. But Diana used three years of tenderness to trick me into giving her my heart. In the end, she was just like everyone else. Since sincerity was worthless, I might as well trade it for tremendous wealth. I turned my head and looked at my mother, who was shocked speechless, my thin lips parting slightly. “Mom, tell the Williams family—this marriage, I accept.” As soon as news of my acceptance of the arranged marriage reached the Williams family, the family’s matriarch Jennifer insisted on meeting me in person. That evening, at the Williams family villa. Jennifer’s gaze fell on my face, with unconcealed amazement. In the past, I would have felt uncomfortable with such a gaze and would even instinctively lower my head. But now, I simply straightened my back, met her gaze, and wore a perfectly appropriate smile at the corners of my lips. Jennifer nodded repeatedly, praising me endlessly: “Angel is so fortunate. This Julian from the Franklin family—his looks, his bearing, even better looking than the male models in magazines!” Her eyes full of affection, she gave me a ring. “This is the Williams family’s heirloom sapphire ring. From now on, you’ll be the Williams family heir!” After settling the arranged marriage, as I was leaving, Jennifer suddenly lowered her voice: “Julian, you should continue pretending to be ugly before the wedding. That way you can give everyone a surprise.” I touched the ring on my hand and thought of the rumored looks-obsessed capital city heiress. Angel, the Williams family’s only heir. A few years ago, to avoid her running away from marriage, I pretended to be ugly and met Diana. She and I had never met, but to avoid any complications, I still followed Jennifer’s advice. The next morning, I was packing my luggage, preparing to move out of this wedding house I had personally decorated over three years. The door lock suddenly turned. Diana came in carrying seafood sandwiches, her face wearing an ingratiating smile: “Julian, still mad? Look what I bought you?” I looked at the sandwich in her hand, a mocking smile forming at the corner of my mouth. On the day we started dating, I had already told Diana I was allergic to seafood. The next second, I expressionlessly picked up the sandwich from the table and threw it in the trash. Diana froze: “Julian, I waited in line for an hour to buy this. How could you…” Suddenly, seeing my direct stare, she slapped her forehead in chagrin: “I’m sorry, Julian. I forgot you’re allergic to seafood.” “No need to apologize, since we won’t have any relationship in the future anyway.” I directly threw all her personal belongings that I’d packed overnight, along with the ring we hadn’t exchanged, at her feet. I watched as Diana’s face turned pale inch by inch. Watched as she crouched down, picked up the ring, her fingertips trembling slightly. “Julian, don’t be like this… I know I was wrong. We can have the wedding again…” Before she could finish, I impatiently interrupted her: “No need! Now, take your things and get out of my house. From today on, our engagement is dissolved!” She stared at me intently, her eyes actually reddening: “Julian, why?” I looked at her reddened eyes and suddenly found it somewhat amusing. “Why? Because I’m marrying another woman, of course. My fiancée doesn’t want to see me entangled with another man anymore!” Diana’s pupils contracted sharply, shock and panic surging in her eyes. “Who? Julian, are you doing this because of what my friends said yesterday? Are you trying to spite me?” A trace of mocking smile spread from my eyes. I looked at her calmly: “What’s there to be spiteful about? Diana, you think too highly of yourself!” After a long ten seconds, Diana looked at my expression and finally said through gritted teeth: “Fine. If you really want to marry someone else, then tell me who you’re marrying!” “I don’t believe that besides me, there’s anyone else…” She didn’t finish, just looked at me. I was about to say Angel’s name when a timid cough suddenly came from outside the door. Manuel stood at the doorway, his face pale, looking pitiful. He walked in, his gaze greedily surveying this luxurious penthouse duplex. Finally, it landed on the suit hanging on the wall—one I’d spent a year sewing by hand, stitch by stitch. “Diana, this house is so beautiful. I really like that suit too.” “Too bad I’ll never have the chance to wear such a handsome suit in my lifetime…” I looked at the undisguised triumph and provocation in Manuel’s eyes, the smile at the corner of my mouth deepening. Sure enough, the next second, Diana immediately hugged him protectively and turned to look at me, her eyes full of pleading. “Julian…” Looking at her face, I couldn’t help but laugh lightly: “Diana, you don’t want me to let him live in this house and give him this suit, do you?” Diana opened her mouth, about to speak, but her pupils suddenly contracted sharply. Because the next second, I had already grabbed the scissors from the table and viciously cut that suit in half! As the suit fragments floated lightly to the ground, I said word by word: “My things—I’d rather destroy them than let trash touch them!” Manuel screamed and hid behind Diana. “Psycho! Diana! He’s crazy!” Diana looked at the cut-up suit on the ground, then at me, her eyes full of disbelief. “Julian! It’s just a suit!” “Even if you didn’t want to give it away, you didn’t have to destroy it. What will you wear at the wedding?” The smile at my lips deepened: “That’s none of your concern. The Williams family will naturally prepare a new one for me.” Diana’s whole body shook. “The Williams family? You don’t mean the heiress Angel, do you?” Shock flashed in her eyes, then she sneered with disdain: “Julian, everyone knows Angel hates the most…” She looked at me strangely and didn’t continue, but I knew what she was going to say. In the past, I hid my appearance to find a sincere heart untainted by superficiality. Thinking of this, I was too lazy to continue entangling with Diana. I directly took out makeup remover wipes, about to wipe off the disguise on my face to make this woman, whose eyes were full of disbelief, shut up and leave. But the next second, seeing me silent, Diana reached out her hand, about to grab me. “Enough, what are you doing with that? No matter how much you wipe, your face can’t change into…” Before she could finish, my phone suddenly rang. The Williams family’s old butler’s respectful voice rang out in the quiet room, each word clear: “Mr. Julian, Lady Jennifer has instructed that the wedding date is set for three days from now.” Dead silence in the room. The color drained completely from Diana’s face.

“Impossible! How could the Williams family…” She reflexively objected, the panic in her eyes nearly overflowing. “Diana, he must be lying to you!” “How could the Williams family possibly… He’s just mad you ran away from the wedding. He’s deliberately getting someone to put on an act to scare you!” Manuel insisted I was lying. Diana’s gaze lingered on my face for a moment. The wavering in her eyes immediately disappeared. “Julian, stop it. I know you’re mad I left you for Manuel, but you can’t joke about your lifelong happiness.” “Angel…” She swept her gaze across my disguised face and said through gritted teeth: “She’s an extreme looks-obsessed person. How could she possibly marry you? As long as you apologize to me now and say this is all fake, I can…” “Can what?” I interrupted her, my voice calm and unwavering: “Continue keeping me as a backup, and when you’re tired of your first love, you’ll come back to me?” “Diana, do you think I, Julian, am that cheap, that unable to leave you?” She was left speechless by my question, her face turning green then white. Seeing this, Manuel immediately leaned over weakly, his voice carrying a sob: “Diana, let’s just go. Don’t make Julian angrier here.” “Julian is obviously confused with anger. When he thinks it through, he’ll naturally know who really treats him well.” As he spoke, he didn’t forget to shoot me a provocative look. With Manuel’s persuasion, Diana seemed to find a way out. She took a deep breath and looked at me: “Julian, I’ll give you time to calm down. When you’ve thought it through, call me anytime.” With that, she helped Manuel and left without looking back. Ironically, the doorbell rang right after she left. The Williams family butler, along with two assistants, respectfully delivered a huge gift box. When the lid opened, inside was a suit custom-made by a top international designer. Diamonds adorned it, shimmering brilliantly.

Over the next two days, Manuel kept sending me intimate photos of himself with Diana. The backgrounds ranged from hospital rooms to high-end restaurants to the passenger seat of Diana’s sports car. In every photo, Diana looked at him tenderly. I read them all without replying and blocked them directly. Until the night before the wedding, I received a message from Diana’s best friend: [Julian, Diana is just being stubborn. The person she loves most in her heart is still you.] [Come to SKY Hotel tomorrow. She’ll definitely propose to you on the spot and give you a makeup wedding!] I looked at the screen, sneered, and tapped lightly. [Sure, I’ll definitely be there!] How could I not go? My engagement ceremony with Angel was also at SKY Hotel. As if the provocation wasn’t enough, Manuel soon sent me a video. In the video, Diana’s friends laughed mockingly, loudly jeering. “Diana, your fiancé is so ungrateful. Looking so ugly but daring to throw a tantrum at you?” “Exactly! He’s not even half as handsome and considerate as Manuel!” The camera shook and finally focused on Diana’s face. She held a wine glass, her face showing some drunkenness, smiling contemptuously: “Before, I indulged him because he was obedient. Now that he’s not obedient, he needs to be taught a lesson.” “Well said! Diana really knows how to manage her husband!” Everyone laughed loudly, egging Diana and Manuel on to drink a toast. I didn’t continue watching. I just calmly blocked Manuel’s contact. The next day, in the VIP dressing room on the top floor of SKY Hotel, I sat by the floor-to-ceiling window. The makeup artist used makeup remover to wipe away the spots and dullness on my face bit by bit. When the last bit of disguise faded, a stunningly handsome, refined face appeared in the mirror. I changed into the haute couture suit the Williams family had sent, inlaid with 999 small diamonds. Meanwhile, on the second floor of SKY Hotel. Diana had arranged the proposal scene like a dream, with roses covering the entire hall. Although it was under the guise of proposing to Manuel, she kept looking toward the entrance, her eyes showing undisguised anxiety. Manuel held her arm, saying sweetly: “Diana, don’t worry. He’ll definitely come!” But after a full hour, I still hadn’t appeared. The anticipation in Diana’s eyes gradually turned to irritation. Just as she was about to lose her temper, the hotel manager suddenly ran in, sweating profusely. “Miss Diana! Please wrap this up quickly!” “Today the top floor is hosting the heiress of the Williams family’s wedding of the century. All the big shots from the capital are here. If we disturb the distinguished guests, we’re all dead!” Manuel froze for a moment, then took Diana’s arm and said quietly: “Should we go up and see? Just in case it really is like Julian said, we should go congratulate Julian, right?” Diana snorted coldly: “How is that possible? Let’s go up and see!” She led Manuel and a group of friends to the top floor banquet hall. As she walked, she took out her phone, clicked on my profile picture, and sent a voice message: “Stop this, Julian. The Williams family princess is having her engagement party today. I already know you were lying.” “Get to me within ten minutes, and I’ll pretend all your nonsense before never happened.” Just as her voice message was successfully sent. The priceless rosewood door in front of her slowly pushed open to both sides. Thousands of spotlights suddenly shone down. I walked out in that brilliant suit, step by step, in full view of everyone. That devastatingly handsome face was completely exposed to everyone’s sight without reservation. Outside the door, Diana was instantly thunderstruck. She stared fixedly at that face of mine, then at my all-too-familiar figure. Her brain completely crashed, and she murmured in disbelief: “Ju… Julian? Impossible… This is absolutely impossible!” She wanted to rush over like a madwoman. But before she could get within three meters of me, several bodyguards in black instantly pressed her firmly to the ground. A crisp, proud, and extremely oppressive female voice rang out from behind me: “What trash dares to block my husband’s way?”

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Three years after overcoming my depression, I applied to join a suicide prevention organization. On the day my internship was about to end, I received a call from a man: “Ma’am, I’m getting married tomorrow. But when I think about marrying a woman I don’t love, I don’t want to live anymore.” I froze. My wedding was tomorrow too. But I was lucky—my fiancé loved me deeply. Just as I was about to comfort him, I heard urgent gasping and a woman’s scream from the other end. The call was abruptly disconnected. My heart tightened. My colleague and I quickly located his position and rushed to the rescue. But when we broke down the presidential suite door at the hotel, what greeted us were two bodies entangled in intense intimacy. The scar on the man’s arm was identical to the one my boyfriend got when he grabbed the knife to stop me from self-harming. The commotion of breaking down the door startled the two people inside. When they turned around, the last shred of hope in my heart completely shattered. One was my fiancé who treasured me like a precious gem. The other was my closest friend. But at this moment, they were naked, tightly pressed together. My brain buzzed. Pearson quickly pulled the blanket over himself and Ivy, coldly saying, “Get out!” My supervisor and colleagues never expected that after racing here at breakneck speed, our rescue mission would turn into catching adultery. My supervisor apologized frantically, then dragged me outside and gave me a harsh scolding. “Zoe Harper, what the hell are you doing? That’s Mr. Pearson! Our organization’s biggest sponsor! Your A-level suicide risk assessment—it was just Mr. Pearson being intimate with his lover? I think you’ve lost your mind chasing success! Don’t even think about passing your probation!” The chance at permanent employment I’d hoped for over three whole months shattered into nothing. But when did my fiancé become the esteemed Mr. Pearson? Back when I finally got into college, my stepfather forced me to marry. In my despair, I was ready to end it all. But I was unexpectedly saved by Pearson, who was drowning in debt at the time. Later, I met Ivy, who was just as poor. The three of us supported each other, squeezed into a tiny rental apartment. Though our days were tight, we were happy enough. But I never knew that the boyfriend who worked day and night delivering food to scrape together money for my antidepressants was actually the CEO of Pearson Group. The best friend who ate bread for a whole month just to buy me a luxury sleep aid was actually my boyfriend’s fiancée. Seeing my disbelief, my supervisor waved dismissively. “You don’t know Mr. Pearson of Pearson Group? You don’t know the heiress of the Ashford family? Their families arranged a business marriage when they were children—they’re engaged for real.” “Everyone in the circle knows Mr. Pearson always protects his own. You’ve offended Mr. Pearson and his lover—you can forget about staying in this field. Go pack your things and get lost!” With that, my supervisor stormed off with the team. Two streams of tears suddenly rolled down my face. I covered my face and broke down crying. I don’t know how long I cried. Suddenly, someone handed me tissues. Pearson’s expression was indifferent. “The floor is cold. Get up. Let’s go inside and talk.” I’d been crouching too long. When I stood up, I couldn’t help stumbling. Pearson naturally reached out to steady me. I pushed his hand away and supported myself against the wall. As soon as I entered the room, the smell of sex made my stomach churn. The familiar contraceptives and lingerie scattered on the floor made my eyes sting. Just this morning, Ivy had pulled me into an adult products store, whispering with a mischievous smile, “Buy this whip—it feels so exciting. And this nightgown, Pearson definitely likes it.” “For my bestie’s sexual happiness, I’ll eat bread for another half month just to get all of these for you. Consider it my wedding gift to you two!” Thinking back carefully, there had been signs all along. I bit my tongue hard until I tasted blood, forcing myself not to lose composure. I took a deep breath, suppressing the sob in my throat. “Mr. Pearson, Miss Ashford, don’t you owe me an explanation?” Ivy’s flushed face instantly turned pale. She opened her mouth and let out a tearful sound. “Zoe…” Pearson calmly blocked Ivy, frowning at me. “Then I’ll tell you straight. I agreed to marry you only to force Ivy to see her own heart and marry me.” “Because Ivy wanted to become a psychological counselor, I pretended to be poor with her and played this rescue game with you for three years.”

During those dark days, Pearson had countless times snatched sharp objects from my hands, encouraging me to overcome my emotions and move toward a new life. Ivy stayed by my side constantly, eating and sleeping with me, using her gentle voice to untangle all my emotional knots. They healed me, and I loved them too. So when Pearson said he needed money to start a business, I sold my mother’s bracelet without a second thought. When Ivy accidentally caused a counseling incident, I took all the blame without hesitation. But now I learned it was just a game the rich played with me. And my role was the clown. Ivy choked out, “Zoe, I know this is hard to accept right now. I can apologize to you.” “It’s just that we already registered our marriage today. If you can forgive me, I can give you the wedding ceremony! I’ll even be your bridesmaid!” Give? I laughed bitterly. “No need. Unlike you two, I find a fake wedding disgusting.” Pearson gripped my wrist hard, confused. “Zoe Harper, what exactly do you have to feel wronged about? Ivy and I lowered ourselves to squeeze into that rental eating noodles with you. We acted out love and friendship for you. Didn’t you enjoy it yourself?” “Ivy was even afraid your wedding would be embarrassing, so she coaxed me into doing it a few more times before I agreed to the fake ceremony. We’re giving you a way out. Don’t be ungrateful.” I shook off his hand and said word by word, “I don’t need fake feelings!” I took off the diamond ring from my finger and threw it at Pearson. I went downstairs to the lobby. Outside the hotel entrance, a large crowd had gathered, noisy and chaotic. “Didn’t they say someone was suicidal? Why did the emergency responders leave?” “I heard a female psychologist made a wrong diagnosis. She actually came to catch someone cheating!” “I hate homewreckers the most. When we beat up the mistress, I’ll help.” Ivy had been chasing after me, but seeing this scene, she stumbled back a few steps. Someone in the crowd immediately said, “I just went upstairs to look. The homewrecker is one of them!” Ivy hid behind Pearson, anxiously refuting, “It’s not me. I already registered my marriage with Pearson. Zoe, help me explain.” In an instant, everyone’s eyes locked onto me. “Isn’t that Zoe Harper from the news? The psychological counselor? The news reported she seduced a client who had a wife!” “That’s her! During counseling, she even advised my wife to divorce me!” “How can a homewrecker be qualified to counsel others?” The accusations rushing at me made my heart tighten. Seducing a client was the boundary violation Ivy caused during her counseling internship. I was afraid she’d get in trouble, so I took the blame. Counselors rarely give advice, but when Ivy was playing with my phone, she jokingly advised clients seeking help to break up or divorce. Watching the crowd close in, I could only try to buy time waiting for security. “This is all a misunderstanding. Actually, actually…” But Pearson cut me off urgently. “Zoe Harper, you did all these things yourself. Who are you trying to slander? You have depression to begin with. You got married at 18 and ran away. With someone like you, nothing you do would be surprising!” As soon as he spoke, everyone’s gaze became both curious and contemptuous. My heart raced and I gasped for air, trembling as I hugged myself. When I used to be too afraid to sleep, Pearson stayed by my bedside with a baseball bat for several nights. When I cried all night because of depression, Pearson held me and patiently told me over and over that it wasn’t my fault. What I once thought was light had now become a piercing blade. Pearson’s words enraged the crowd. An extreme man raised his mineral water bottle and threw it hard at me, but it missed and flew toward Ivy instead. Ivy grabbed me and used me as a shield. The rough plastic instantly sliced across half my face. Blood flowed with the sharp pain. At the sight of blood, the onlookers screamed in panic. “There’s blood! Someone’s killing people! Everyone run!” The crowd scattered. In the pushing and shoving, a strong force hit me. I was pushed down the steps. My abdomen slammed hard into a ground pillar. The pain made my vision go dark. I used all my strength to call for help, but when security arrived, they were stopped by Pearson. Watching Pearson and security protect Ivy as they left, I smiled bitterly and closed my eyes, letting my consciousness sink into the abyss.

When I woke up, both Pearson and Ivy were by my bedside. The side of my face was wrapped in gauze, and my abdomen ached with a dull pain. Pearson trembled as he held my hand, saying softly, “I’m sorry, Zoe. The doctor said your ovaries were damaged. You’ll never be able to have children of your own.” Pearson’s words hit me like a blow to the head. I opened my mouth but didn’t even have the strength to speak. Ivy’s eyes were red as she hesitated. “It’s all my fault for being afraid of blood. Pearson made a big deal out of it and insisted I get in the ambulance first. The doctor said if you’d come earlier, there would have been hope.” Pearson disagreed. “You’re pregnant. It’s right to be careful.” Ivy comforted me. “Zoe, you don’t need to be too sad. The doctor said I’m pregnant. I’ll let you be my baby’s godmother, okay? Since you can never get pregnant again anyway, you can just come back to the villa with us and help me take care of—” Before she could finish, I slapped Ivy. Pearson grabbed my hand, furious. “Zoe Harper, are you crazy? Ivy was trying to comfort you, and you hurt her? Apologize to Ivy!” I said coldly, “Impossible.” Pearson’s grip became even more brutal, but even though the pain nearly crushed my wrist bone, I refused to back down. Pearson threw my hand away and suddenly sneered. “Zoe Harper, you really think I have no way to deal with you? Let’s see just how stubborn you can be!” With that, Pearson took Ivy to find a nurse. I recovered from the pain, got up, changed clothes, and went to see my mom. My mom had a bad heart and was receiving long-term treatment at this hospital. Just as I was about to enter her room, someone covered my mouth with brute force and dragged me to the hallway. The person violently slapped me. I was knocked to the ground, followed by fists and feet raining down on me like hail. “Damn it, you little bitch hid pretty well. If it weren’t for Mr. Pearson, I wouldn’t have been able to catch you two!” “You’ve made quite a bit off men these years, haven’t you? Spit it all out and go back to the village to get married. Try running again and I’ll beat you to death!” Hearing my stepfather’s curses, I instantly felt like I’d fallen into an ice cave, cold as death itself. I hugged my head and curled up numbly, taking the beating. Tears poured out in large drops. So the person who pulled you from the abyss also knows best how to push you into hell. My mom heard the commotion and tried to rush over to protect me, but my stepfather kicked her away. She had an acute attack. My stepfather tried to go after her again, but I desperately held onto his legs, refusing to let go no matter how much it hurt. Seeing Pearson watching coldly from the crowd, I finally broke down. “I was wrong. I’m sorry. Please, let my mom and me go!” Pearson waved his hand, and my stepfather was taken away. He sighed and helped me up. “Wouldn’t it have been better to apologize earlier? Why make yourself so miserable?” “You hurt Ivy’s feelings. Tomorrow’s wedding will be mine and Ivy’s now. Be a good bridesmaid and make amends.” “Remember to hide your wounds. Don’t scare her. I’ll cover all the medical expenses for you and your mom.” I clenched my fists but weakly nodded.

The next day at the wedding, the ceremony and banquet were countless times grander than what I’d originally planned. Ivy wore the wedding dress Pearson and I had designed together. I held up her train under the strange looks of the guests. Ivy was pregnant, so Pearson had me down glass after glass of champagne in her place. Behind me, people gossiped. “Wasn’t Zoe Harper supposed to be the bride? How did she become the one holding the train?” “Getting cheated on and still being this pathetic—was Zoe Harper a turtle in her past life?” “If I had a friend like this, I’d die of shame. I should’ve said I was Ivy’s friend instead.” Pearson pulled me aside and handed me a box of stomach medicine. “Why didn’t you tell me your stomach problem flared up? Ivy’s being naughty, but you don’t need to indulge her tantrums. Take the medicine. I don’t have time to make you soup today.” I ignored him. Pearson laughed coldly and threw the pills in the trash. Ivy glanced at me and pulled Pearson onto the stage. Just as they were about to exchange vows, Ivy suddenly said while holding the bouquet, “That lady down there is my best friend, Zoe Harper.” “Zoe is very pitiful. Her father died when she was young. Her stepfather sexually abused and beat her for years, forcing her to marry at 18. She even developed depression because of it…” My past wounds were ripped open bloodily. My body went numb with cold. Everyone’s gaze made me feel like I was being stripped naked and mounted on an operating table with nowhere to hide. Ivy’s voice lifted. “On this happy day, I hope my best friend can get married with me.” “All of Zoe’s friends and family are here anyway. So whoever catches my bouquet, I’ll marry Zoe to him right now!” Hearing this, quite a few lewd men in the crowd whistled and jeered. Before I could refuse, Ivy had already thrown the bouquet to a middle-aged man in his forties. The man grinned, showing a mouthful of yellow teeth. “Well, I was just worrying about finding a woman to give me children. Marry me and I’ll definitely spoil you rotten!” Ivy’s bridesmaids forcibly dragged me onto the stage. The man groped my waist with a lecherous smile. I looked pleadingly at Pearson. Pearson frowned, about to help me, but Ivy cut in. “Pearson, I just want to get married at the same time as my best friend. If she doesn’t get married, then I won’t either! It’s fake anyway. Just satisfy this one little wish of mine.” Pearson said helplessly, “A wedding is once in a lifetime. Since Ivy likes it, Zoe, just cooperate.” My heart died. I took vows, exchanged rings, and was forced to kiss a strange man in front of everyone. Ivy waved her phone. “Zoe, marriage is a big deal that needs parental consent. I already sent this video to your mom!” I lunged to grab her phone, but it was too late. The phone rang like a death knell. “Ms. Harper, your mother had a sudden cardiac episode and died despite resuscitation efforts.” Hearing this, my internal organs felt like they were being crushed by an invisible hand. The pain nearly suffocated me. I tried to rush at them like a madwoman for revenge, but Pearson grabbed me and said in a low voice, “This is my and Ivy’s wedding. Stop making a scene. Whatever it is, I’ll compensate you after the banquet ends.” Then, like throwing out trash, he tossed me to a man. “Take her away and watch her!” The man chuckled and dragged me outside. I laughed through my tears. “I’d rather have never been saved by you. This life—I’m giving it back to you now.” With that, I broke free from the man and, under everyone’s shocked gaze, climbed out the window and jumped.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “387040”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster