Mom always said my birthday was her day of suffering, so she never allowed me to celebrate it. But Chloe… she always had a grand birthday party every year. I cried, begging Mom to let me celebrate just once. Mom, however, pulled out the annual statement and threw it in front of me: “This year, I’ve spent a whopping five thousand eight hundred fifty dollars and six cents on you.” “You useless burden, after all the money I’ve poured into you, you still expect a birthday celebration?” I didn’t understand. Our family wasn’t poor, yet Mom remembered every penny, even the cost of an ice cream. “If it weren’t for having you, how would my body be ruined and covered in stretch marks? How else would your father have gone out and found a mistress?” “All my suffering, it’s because of you. If you truly want to repay me, you should just die.” “I almost died in the operating room giving birth to you, and not only are you ungrateful, but you want to celebrate my suffering? Do you even have conscience?” I pulled the covers tightly over myself, afraid to even cry out loud. To make Mom happy, I jumped from the rooftop. But even after I truly died, Mom and Dad still weren’t happy.

Mom angrily threw the annual statement in front of me. My eyes were swollen from crying, and I knelt on the floor, sobbing continuously. “Mom, I’ll earn money when I grow up and pay you back…” Mom didn’t even hesitate, slapping me across the face. A burning pain flared on my cheek, followed by Mom’s furious roar. “Pay back? Can you ever pay back all the years of youth and energy I spent raising you?” “If you really want to pay me back, you should just die sooner and set me free.” Mom smashed everything she could get her hands on, then left the house with Chloe, leaving me alone, kneeling amidst a pile of shattered debris. I could only pin my hopes on Dad. Dad came home drunk, flopping onto the couch to scroll on his phone. I stopped cleaning the mess and got up to get him some water. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Mom’s SnapChat Story on his phone. In the photo, Mom was embracing Chloe, smiling happily, as if nothing had happened moments ago. The caption read: “No matter what happens, never bring your bad mood to your child! That’s our promise!” She couldn’t bring her bad mood to Chloe, but she could unleash all her fury on me. My hand, holding the glass, trembled, and the water spilled directly onto Dad. Dad quickly lifted his phone away, looking up at me angrily, his voice sharp as he yelled. “Lily, are your hands useless? You can’t even do a simple chore right. What good are you?” My nose stung, and tears welled up again. “Dad… I didn’t mean to…” Dad shot me an impatient glance, pointing at the door and shouting, “Oh shut up with the crying, you’re annoying as hell, just get out!” I sobbed, trying to explain to Dad, but he didn’t give me a chance, getting up and heading upstairs. I mustered all my courage and yelled after him, “Dad, today… it’s my birthday.” Dad’s footsteps on the stairs stopped. He turned to look at me, and I thought he finally remembered, that he would celebrate my birthday just once. I watched him, filled with hope and anxiety, but what Dad said was, “Birthday? What birthday?” “I never even heard of birthdays when I was a kid. You just haven’t known hardship.” Dad went upstairs without another look. I sobbed my way out of the house and knelt in the snow. Mom and Dad, you always said I was a jinx, that I was your curse, that you fought every day because of me… So, Mom and Dad, if I leave, will you stop fighting?

That night, I came down with a high fever. I tried to ignore the discomfort, crawled out of my room, and knocked on Mom’s door. Mom impatiently yanked the door open, her voice full of annoyance: “What now? Keeping people awake in the middle of the night? Are you happy only when I drop dead from exhaustion?” I quickly shook my head, explaining, “No, Mom, I just feel really unwell, I wanted to…” Before I could finish, she cut me off: “Unwell? What’s there to feel unwell about? Chloe fell and hurt her leg today, and she didn’t say she was unwell. Why are you acting unwell?” Chloe’s crying came from inside the room. Mom quickly rushed in, holding Chloe and comforting her. “Chloe, what’s wrong? Does it still hurt?” Chloe buried her head in Mom’s arms, sobbing, “Mom, it hurts! It’s all Lily’s fault for fighting with you today. I was so upset, I wasn’t watching where I was going, and that’s why I fell…” Mom wiped her tears, her angry gaze turning to me: “It’s all your fault. You’re just a jinx. Why don’t you just die?” Tears blurred my vision. I heard Mom close the door, and I lay there on the floor all night. Before, when Mom used to hit me for Chloe, I thought it was just because Chloe looked like Mom, so Mom doted on her especially. But my appearance wasn’t something I could control, so I tried to achieve perfection in other things. From the time I started school, my grades were always at the top of the class, but when I showed my report card to Mom, Mom was busy comforting Chloe, who had ranked last in her class. My report card, showing I was first in the whole school, was casually tossed into the trash. I made many more efforts, winning countless awards, but in Mom’s eyes, there was still only Chloe. The teacher assigned an essay about our mothers. I wrote and tore, tore and wrote on the paper. I could never remember a single time Mom had been gentle or caring towards me… In the end, I turned in a blank piece of paper. The teacher made me stand at the front of the class for an entire period and lectured me in front of everyone, saying I was heartless. I stood there, listening to all my classmates’ essays, and thought for the whole class if Mom truly loved me. As I got older, I gradually began to understand that Mom didn’t love me, not because I wasn’t good enough. It was because she simply didn’t like me, didn’t like my existence. I thought I was going to die, but I didn’t. I continued to live cautiously like that in the house for half a year. Half a month before Chloe’s birthday, Mom started preparing everything for Chloe’s party and her birthday gifts. My eyes red, I walked past her. Mom sighed helplessly, then called me back. “Who are you putting on that long face for?” “Chloe’s birthday is in a few days. You better be happy. Don’t let me see that sour expression on your face again.” I wanted to ask Mom why she held such grand birthday parties for Chloe every year but wouldn’t allow me even a small celebration. But the words caught in my throat. I nodded obediently and returned to my room. Behind me, Mom happily hummed a tune, continuing to prepare. Chloe merely mentioned wanting Dad to celebrate her birthday with her, and Mom, who usually fought with Dad the moment she saw him, actually cooked a meal herself and humbly invited Dad to the birthday party. Even more surprisingly, Dad agreed. I crouched in the kitchen, crying silently, tears dripping into my rice bowl. I lost all appetite. So I just poured the remaining rice and pickles into the trash. Mom, furious, smashed my bowl, pointing at my nose and yelling, “Lily, if you don’t want to eat, get out! What do you mean by secretly throwing it away? Is my cooking not good enough for your royal taste?” I looked at the shattered pieces on the floor, trying to explain, “No, I just wasn’t hungry…” Before I could finish, a stinging slap landed squarely on my face. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw many pieces of meat, barely touched, discarded on Chloe’s plate…

At the birthday party, Chloe invited many classmates and friends. I carefully presented a thoughtfully chosen gift to Chloe. Chloe didn’t even look, knocking the gift box to the floor. “What is this junk? I’m your older sister, and this is how you treat my birthday?” “Have you forgotten how many pretty dresses I gave you for your birthday?” Chloe did give me many dresses, but among them, not a single one was new. They were all dresses Chloe had worn, or her friends and classmates had worn… I sobbed, picking up the gift and wiping off the dust with my sleeve. “Chloe, you look best with hair clips.” “I saved money for months to buy this. Please take it…” My words were again cut off by Chloe. She forcefully snatched the box and threw it to the ground, her eyes full of disdain. Watching the hair clip fall to the floor, my heart suddenly twisted in pain, making it hard to breathe. I crouched down, trembling, reaching out to pick it up. But then I saw Chloe stomp on the hair clip several times until it broke into two pieces. Chloe stood with her arms crossed, looking down at me with contempt. “Mom says you’re a jinx. If I wear a hair clip from you, who knows what bad things might happen!” “A jinx like you should take all your bad luck and get out of our house.” “Mom and Dad have lived such good lives, I don’t know how we ended up with a jinx like you. You even almost killed Mom in the operating room. Ugh, a jinx!” I collapsed to the floor, Chloe’s voice becoming increasingly muffled in my ears. When I woke up, Mom and Chloe were sitting by the bed, waiting. I was incredibly excited. This was the first time Mom had stepped into my room since I could remember. But before I could even speak, Mom slapped me hard. I looked at her, confused, tears flowing against my will. “Mom…” I hadn’t done anything wrong, why… “Don’t call me Mom. I don’t have a jinx daughter like you. Look what you’ve done! If you’re going to die, do it outside! What’s the deal with dying at Chloe’s birthday party?” “Your dad finally agreed to celebrate Chloe’s birthday, and now it’s all ruined because of you.” My smile froze. So Mom came into the room not to care for me, but to punish me for Chloe. I tried to get up from the bed but accidentally fell off. I just stayed there, kneeling in front of Mom. I carefully reached out and tugged at Mom’s clothes: “Mom, I… I didn’t mean to.” Mom kicked me hard. My head hit the corner of the bed, and a lot of blood flowed. But Mom showed no remorse, turning and rushing out of the room. When Mom came back in, I saw a torn piece where I had tugged at her clothes. Mom, I’m not dirty. I shower every day. Do you despise me that much? Chloe is your child, and I’m also flesh and blood from you… Why don’t you feel any pity for me at all? Mom, you always said I should die. If I die, will you finally be happy? And Dad, will he stop fighting with you? If that’s the case, then I’m willing to die.

I wanted to say goodbye to Mom in person, so I covered my still-bleeding head and went to the banquet hall. When Mom saw me, her eyes were filled with nothing but anger. “What are you doing here? What happened to your head?” Hearing Mom care about me, I was overjoyed. “I’m fine…” My words hadn’t even fully left my mouth when Mom cut me off. “How unlucky. It’s Chloe’s birthday party today. What are you trying to do, making yourself look like this on purpose?” “Do you want our whole family to catch your bad luck? A perfectly good birthday party, and you’ve ruined the atmosphere. I shouldn’t have brought you.” Mom glared at me, then turned and went into the banquet hall. The doors closed. As the doors shut, I saw through the gap Mom gently putting a birthday hat on Chloe’s head. I had ruined the birthday party Mom had painstakingly prepared for Chloe, and made Mom angry. I wanted to make Mom happy again. I asked many people, and they said that death meant one’s soul flew to heaven. So I climbed onto the rooftop. It was so close to the sky here. If I jumped from here, would I fly to heaven? Just as I was about to jump, someone called out to me. I turned to look, and it was a very beautiful woman. Her voice trembled uncontrollably: “Child, you can’t play there. Come here, Auntie will take you to your mom and dad.” I politely thanked her, then asked, “Auntie, if I jump from here, will I fly to heaven?” “I asked many people, and they all said dying means flying to heaven.” “Mom always says I’m a jinx and tells me to die. I don’t want Mom to be unhappy all the time…” The woman was scared but didn’t dare to make any sudden moves. She extended her hand towards me: “Child, come here, Auntie will take you home.” I shook my head: “No, Auntie, Mom will be unhappy if she sees me again. I don’t want Mom to be unhappy.” I didn’t say anything more, gathering strength and leaping towards the sky. Mom, don’t be angry. I listened to you. I’m obediently going to die. But it wasn’t quite what I imagined. My body plummeted rapidly. Through the window, I saw Mom affectionately kiss Chloe’s forehead. Mom’s gaze briefly flickered towards the window. I wanted to wave to Mom, but the speed of my descent was too fast. Before I could even reach out, Mom disappeared from my sight. A flicker of shock crossed Mom’s eyes. Someone beside her shouted, “Someone jumped!” Mom seemed disbelieving: “Chloe, where’s your sister?” Mom scanned the banquet hall, but didn’t see me anywhere. She panicked, quickly running to the window to look. As my eyelids closed, I saw Mom. Her eyes seemed to be filled with tears, and her lips were moving. Mom, did I do something wrong again? If not, then why are there tears in your eyes?

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After my husband left for his business trip, I got a call: “Hello, I’m a clerk from a sex toy store. May I speak with Mrs. Miller? Your husband’s payment for the sex toy he bought yesterday afternoon failed. Could you please complete the payment?” I immediately called Alex, my husband, probing: “Weren’t you on a business trip yesterday? Why were you buying a sex toy yesterday afternoon?” He paused for a second, then chuckled lightly: “Oh, I was going to surprise you, but I guess you found out early.” After we got married, Alex had always been so proper in bed, never once buying any sex toys. He hadn’t even given a second glance to the sheer nightgown I bought last week. I hung up, then called the sex toy store again: “Send me your address. I’ll come down and pay now.” When I arrived at the sex toy store, the clerk pulled out the bill and said: “Hello, that’ll be $200.” I didn’t pay immediately. Instead, I said to the clerk: “I’d like to see the security footage first, just to confirm it was my husband who made the purchase.” The clerk looked surprised for a moment, then nodded. “Of course, please wait a moment.” He pulled up the monitor, and a familiar figure quickly appeared on the screen. It was Alex, my husband. Beside him stood a young woman, wearing a tight-fitting bodycon dress that highlighted her sensual curves. Alex and the young woman picked out handcuffs, a whip, candles, and even a nurse’s uniform. The woman gave a shy smile. Alex gently stroked her head. My heart instantly twisted into a knot. On the screen, the woman’s necklace caught my eye. My gaze locked. The pendant on that necklace was the letter “A”. I had designed the sketch myself and had it custom-made. It was one of a kind. It was my wedding anniversary gift to him. I made sure to save the footage. Then I handed the clerk my bank card: “It’s definitely my husband! Take the payment!” Back home, silence hung heavy in the air. I walked into Alex’s study, opened the company’s internal messaging app, and clicked on the list of female employees. One young face after another scrolled by. Finally, my finger stopped on the profile picture of a woman named Chloe Young. It was the same woman from the security footage. I closed the app and made a call. My best friend, Bella King, answered on the other end: “Hey, Rory, what’s up? How come you’re free to call today?” “I need you to look someone up for me, a new intern at our company, Chloe Young.” My voice was eerily calm. “Also, pull up all of Alex’s private account statements, hotel records, and immigration information from the last six months. Don’t miss a single detail.” Bella was quiet for two seconds. “…Did something happen with Alex?” “Worse than that.” After I hung up, Alex’s call came through. “Rory, are you busy?” His usual gentle voice came through. “No, just got off work.” “How was your day? Tired?” “It was fine.” “I’ll be back tomorrow. I brought you a gift, I promise you’ll love it.” He was still using that gentle tone. Listening to him, my stomach churned. The next day, as soon as I arrived at the office, Bella’s encrypted email landed in my inbox. “Everything you asked for. See for yourself.” I opened the attachment. It was Chloe’s social media account. The latest post featured *my* necklace. The caption read: “Boyfriend says I’m his muse. I absolutely adore this necklace.” I scrolled down further. One photo showed her in the background of our living room, holding my cat, grinning innocently. “Cuddling with my boyfriend’s cat at his place. Feeling totally cured.” Another showed her in my car, holding my favorite car diffuser. “Boyfriend’s car smells so good. He says it’s his sanctuary.” Every photo, every word, was a blatant claim of ownership. I closed the photos, my face expressionless, and opened another folder. It was Chloe’s background, dug up by Bella. A regular university, a completely unremarkable resume. Getting an internship at a top-tier design firm like ours was nothing short of a miracle. Her only notable achievement was a first-place prize in a campus competition for a city landscape design report. That report sparked a memory. I scrolled further, and when I saw the last photo, my body stiffened. In the picture, Chloe was holding a printed design sketch, a look of triumphant satisfaction on her face. The title on the blueprint was unmistakably – “South Side Project.” This was the core design proposal I had poured my heart and soul into for three months, for the company’s most important annual bid. It was the most crucial project of my entire career.

The next day, I arrived at the company’s annual key project proposal meeting. I found an inconspicuous corner and sat down, watching Alex lead Chloe to the most central seats in the front row. He was impeccably dressed in a bespoke suit, his hair neatly combed. He leaned over, talking to a client representative beside him, completely at ease. Chloe sat next to him, clad in a white professional suit, her face adorned with exquisite makeup. Gone was her previous innocent look, replaced by the sharp competence of a rising professional. The way she looked at Alex was filled with adoration and worship. The two chatted and laughed, looking every bit like a dazzling duo working in perfect sync. Soon, the presentation began. Chloe, as the lead presenter for the “South Side Project,” walked onto the stage. She took a deep breath and began to articulate the design concept. “The core of our South Side Project lies in its unique ‘ecological sky bridge’ design. It will act like a vibrant, green artery…” These were the exact words I had told Alex on countless late nights, fueled by coffee. I had once believed those conversations were our deepest connection, a true meeting of minds. Now, I realized he was just the most patient thief. Chloe’s presentation was a success. When the final renderings were displayed on the PPT, a collective gasp of admiration rippled through the room. The presentation ended, followed by thunderous applause. The host stepped onto the stage: “Thank you, Ms. Young, for your brilliant presentation! Now, let’s move on to the Q&A session.” In the audience, a distinguished real estate mogul, Mr. Davis from City Development Group, raised his hand. He was known in the industry for his incredibly sharp eye. “Ms. Young, hello,” Mr. Davis began. “Given the importance of this project, isn’t it a bit risky to have a newcomer lead it? I recall Ms. Vance’s previous ‘Riverside Gate’ project was an industry benchmark.” Chloe’s face visibly faltered for a moment, but she quickly composed herself, glancing pleadingly at Alex in the audience. Alex gave her a reassuring smile, then picked up the microphone in front of him. “Mr. Davis, thank you for your question.” He stood up, his gaze sweeping across the room, finally resting on Chloe, full of pride. “Aurora Vance, my wife, is indeed very seasoned in design. But architecture needs new life. Chloe’s proposal, its biggest highlight, is its creativity—something experience alone can’t replicate.” The entire room fell silent. Then, an even more enthusiastic round of applause erupted. My world went silent, save for the dull thudding of my heart in my chest. I never imagined my husband would publicly discredit me. Mr. Davis raised an eyebrow but said no more, taking his seat. The host smiled, taking over: “It seems Mr. Miller has great confidence in Ms. Young! So, are there any other guests who would like to ask a question?” The room remained quiet. After Alex’s full endorsement of Chloe, it seemed no one else had anything to ask. Chloe bowed on stage, her face radiating undisguised triumph and joy. I put away my phone and picked up the microphone on the table. Instantly, all eyes turned to me. The host paused, bewildered: “Ma’am, may I ask who you are?” The smile on Alex’s face froze. Chloe’s gaze, directed at me, also held a hint of wariness.

I didn’t answer the host, walking directly to the podium. My heels clicked crisply and rhythmically on the polished floor. Each step echoed, striking a chord in Alex and Chloe’s hearts. The host on stage looked a little flustered, instinctively trying to stop me. I merely gave him a look, and he pulled his hand back. I took the microphone from him. “Hello, everyone.” My voice, amplified through the speakers, filled the entire room, clear and steady. “First, I’d like to thank Mr. Davis for his excellent question earlier.” I paused, my gaze sweeping past everyone, landing precisely on my husband, Alex. “Secondly, I’d like to add a point to Mr. Miller’s recent statement.” I turned to face Chloe, whose face had already started to pale, and smiled. “Ms. Young, I’m delighted that you have such a deep understanding of the South Side Project. As the original creator of this project, I am truly gratified.” *Boom!* The entire room erupted into a stunned murmur. Countless eyes darted between me, Alex, and Chloe. Alex’s face instantly turned ashen with fury. “Aurora! What are you talking about!” he hissed in a low, furious whisper. Chloe panicked too, hastily explaining: “No, everyone, don’t listen to her nonsense, this proposal is mine…” “Is it yours?” I cut her off. I gestured for my assistant to connect my USB drive to the projector. On the large screen behind me, Chloe’s exquisite renderings vanished. They were replaced by the original files from my computer. Folder after folder, neatly arranged by date. “This is the first conceptual model for the South Side Project, created in October of last year.” I clicked open the earliest folder, revealing rough sketches brimming with raw, original ideas. “This is the first version, and this is the second version.” Each file I opened, Chloe’s face grew a shade paler. Finally, I clicked open the blueprint page for the “ecological sky bridge” core structure design. “As for the ecological sky bridge that Ms. Young so proudly showcased, I have the complete data calculation process. Since you claim this was your inspiration, perhaps you can explain it to everyone?” All eyes in the room shot towards Chloe. She stood there, her lips trembling, her meticulously made-up face flushed crimson, unable to utter a single word. She wouldn’t understand any of it. Alex finally couldn’t sit still. He quickly strode onto the stage. “Enough, Aurora!” he squeezed out, his voice laced with a warning, “Is this a company internal matter you have to cause a scene about here?” He wanted to dismiss it as a marital dispute and an internal company problem. “Internal matter?” I picked up the microphone. “Mr. Miller, have you forgotten how you publicly assessed me just now?” He choked. Immediately, he tried to compose himself and turned to the client representatives in the audience, attempting to smooth things over. “Everyone, my apologies, this is just a private matter between my wife and me.” “Private matter?” I held up the microphone. “Director Miller claimed that he spent the past few days in a neighboring city conducting final on-site inspections for the South Side Project.” I paused, watching his eyes widen in terror. “But I just received news that Director Miller and his intern have been staying in the Presidential Suite at the Ritz-Carlton here in the city for the past few days. I wonder what ‘project’ the two of you were ‘inspecting’ in the hotel?” At the same time, I played the security video from the sex toy store. The sex toys in their hands made the entire room erupt into chaos.

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Right after my check-up, I scrolled past a help post: “The college student I’m seeing has kidney failure. The only matching donor is my wife. How can I get my wife to willingly donate her kidney to her?” Someone in the comment section replied: “Easy! Just tell your wife she’s the one with kidney failure, and your mistress is a kind stranger volunteering to donate. Your wife will definitely agree!” Just as I was thinking what poor woman was unlucky enough to have such a husband, My husband, Dr. Alex Harper, the Chief Surgeon, suddenly approached me with a fake medical report: “You have kidney failure, Claire. You need immediate surgery. But luckily, we have a kind donor here at the hospital who’s a perfect match. I’ve already scheduled the surgery for tomorrow!” I watched Dr. Alex Harper stand before me, holding the report, his face a mask of pained concern and forced relief. For a moment, I was stunned. It must be a coincidence, right? Alex and I had dated for five years, married for two—a total of seven years. He had always been incredibly thoughtful. He never once let me step foot in the kitchen or do a single chore. That morning, I’d merely coughed twice, and he’d rushed me straight to his hospital for a check-up. He was the best man in the world to me, besides my own parents! I looked at him, testing the waters: “Honey, could there be a mistake?” “I feel perfectly fine. How could I suddenly have kidney failure?” Alex gently stroked my hair, reassuring me: “Most kidney diseases don’t show obvious symptoms, sweetheart. It’s a good thing we caught it early, otherwise, it could have been really bad.” His expression was sincere, his tone earnest. But the sight of him sent a chill down my spine. I was silent for two seconds, still unwilling to give up hope: “Who is this ‘kind donor’ who’s giving me a kidney?” Alex answered without hesitation: “A college student.” My heart plummeted. It clicked. Alex. He was the one who posted it. He was cheating. And now, he wanted to trick me into donating my kidney to save his mistress. My blood ran cold, but I kept my face carefully blank as I asked Alex: “I don’t know this college student at all. Why would she agree to donate a kidney to me?” Alex smiled warmly: “That girl is incredibly kind.” “She said her own mother died of kidney disease, and she doesn’t want to see anyone else go through that same pain.” “So, as soon as she found out she was a match for you, she immediately offered to donate.” Even though Alex’s words were a lie, The undeniable tenderness in his eyes when he spoke of that girl was all too real. I knew that look. I’d seen it when he traveled thousands of miles just to see me. When I was sick, and he stayed by my side for days and nights without sleep. At our wedding, when he knelt on one knee and made his solemn vows. He had always gazed at me with that same devoted look. Seeing my silence, Alex comforted me softly: “Don’t be scared, darling.” “I’ll perform your surgery myself.” “With me there, you’re going to be perfectly fine.” Hearing Alex’s words, I couldn’t help but recall when he first chose medicine, promising me with the same earnestness: “Claire, I swear, I’ll study hard so I can protect you from illness and pain your whole life.” How laughable. The man who once vowed to study medicine just to keep me safe. Now, he was willing to personally remove my kidney for another woman.

I looked at Alex, my voice calm: “Can I meet her? She is my benefactor, after all. I’d like to thank her properly.” Dr. Alex Harper was renowned in medical circles as the devoted, perfect man. Young, accomplished, and devastatingly handsome, he never lacked attention from women. Even the hospital director’s daughter, a powerful socialite, openly pursued him. She’d even publicly stated that if Alex would just be with her, he could have the entire hospital. But Alex had always been completely unmoved. He’d even offended her, almost getting blacklisted by the medical community. Despite all this, he remained unwavering, telling me: “I could lose the whole world, but I can’t live without you.” I was intensely curious. What kind of woman could make Alex, a man who held loyalty as a sacred vow, change his heart? Alex paused for a second, then chuckled: “She left the hospital right after signing the donor consent form.” “After the surgery tomorrow, I’ll take you to thank her properly.” Clearly, Alex didn’t want me to meet her. But the more he resisted, the more curious I became. I didn’t press, nodding obediently: “Okay, I’ll trust you.” “I’m a little tired. I want to go home first.” Alex breathed a sigh of relief: “I’ll drive you.” I shook my head, forcing a weak smile: “No need. With the surgery tomorrow, you must have a lot of preparations. You go ahead and get busy. I can just take a cab home.” A flicker of emotion crossed Alex’s eyes, and he said earnestly: “Claire, marrying someone as understanding and thoughtful as you is truly the greatest blessing of my life.” If I hadn’t seen that post. If that college student hadn’t existed. I might have actually been moved by the sincerity in Alex’s eyes. But now, looking into his seemingly loving gaze, I felt nothing but profound irony. Love, it seemed, could truly be a masterful disguise. I didn’t say anything, just quietly turned and walked away. But I didn’t go far. Instead, I went to a coffee shop downstairs from the hospital, ordered a coffee, and sat silently. A few minutes later, Alex changed out of his white lab coat and hurried out of the hospital. I put down my coffee and quietly followed him. Alex seemed ecstatic. He was walking and talking on the phone, gesturing animatedly—clearly announcing good news to the person on the other end. I followed Alex to a high-end apartment complex near the hospital. Just as Alex reached the bottom of one of the buildings, a girl practically flew down the stairs and threw herself into his arms. The moment I clearly saw her face, My eyes widened in shock. How could it be her?!

I had wondered why Alex, who seemingly loved me so much he’d risk his own life for me, had suddenly started an affair. It was because of her! It dawned on me. Now I finally understood why Alex had gone to such lengths to trick me into donating my kidney to her! I couldn’t bear to watch Alex and the girl’s intimate display any longer. I practically fled back home. Once home, I sat on the couch, unable to calm down. The girl’s face kept flashing before my eyes. Making me realize that this situation was far more terrifying than I had imagined! My hands trembling, I pulled out my phone and called several people in quick succession. Half an hour later, my parents, Alex’s mother Anne, and his sister Amy, all rushed to the house. “What’s wrong, Claire? You called us all over so suddenly. Did something happen?” The four of them sat around the sofa, looking at me with worried expressions. I took a deep breath, looked at them, and directly told them about Alex’s affair and his plan to trick me into donating a kidney to his mistress. Hearing this, Anne shot to her feet, livid: “That scoundrel! How could he do this to you?” “Claire, don’t be sad. I’m going to go teach him a lesson right now!” My mom held Anne back. She looked at me cautiously: “Claire, could there be a misunderstanding?” My dad also nodded: “Alex, that man, everyone could see how much he loved you. How could he possibly be cheating?” Amy, too, echoed in disbelief: “Exactly! You’re the only woman my brother has ever loved, since we were kids.” “He treasures you more than his own life. How could he possibly remove your kidney for some other woman?” I knew they wouldn’t believe it. So I pulled out the photo I’d secretly taken of the girl when I followed Alex: “What if he cheated with her?” The moment they saw the girl’s photo, the four people who had been so certain Alex couldn’t possibly be cheating, instantly went pale. “How can this be?” “Why her?” Anne murmured, her face ashen, her eyes filled with shock. Amy’s confident expression instantly vanished, replaced by a dazed look: “So it was her… No wonder Alex would do something like this…” My parents went completely limp, their voices trembling: “It’s over. Everything’s completely over!”

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I hit the $100 million lottery jackpot. I came home for the holidays, ready to share the news with my family. But Mom beat me to it with an announcement of her own: “I sold the rental property for top dollar! I’m giving Derek two million, and Jessica two million!” She glanced at me sideways. “You’ll stay here with me. Take care of me in my old age.” I was confused. “What about me? What’s my share?” She frowned impatiently. “That’s four million total. It’s already been split… Family resources should go to those with the most potential.” “You’re just a high school dropout with no future. How dare you compare yourself to them? Derek has his Ivy League PhD, and Jessica has her MBA from a top business school. Only they deserve it.” I clutched the lottery ticket in my pocket and asked: “So if you become worthless in my eyes, does that mean I don’t have to care for you when you’re elderly?” Mom shot to her feet and pointed at my head, screaming: “Clara, you ungrateful brat! Over some money from selling a property, you won’t even care for me in my old age!” I sat there, looking up at her. “You abandoned me first!” “How did I abandon you? Didn’t I raise you? Didn’t I pay for your high school?” Mom’s expression turned dark. I actually laughed, I was so furious. “Mom, you left me with Grandma when I was in elementary school. I only came back after Grandma passed away when I was in middle school.” “When I started high school, all you gave me was a set of used bedding from Jessica. I paid for tuition and living expenses myself by working summer jobs and part-time gigs.” When I was in kindergarten, Mom forced me to complete the entire elementary school curriculum. But in my last year of kindergarten, I couldn’t grasp physics and chemistry no matter how hard I tried. Mom pointed at my nose and called me mentally challenged with an IQ of only 70. Said I couldn’t hold a candle to Derek and Jessica. She tossed me aside like garbage to Grandma’s place in the countryside. She decided I had no potential and wasn’t worth investing in. Mom still looked down at me with that condescending attitude: “Didn’t I visit you in the countryside? Didn’t I bring you food and clothes?” My nose stung and I felt even more hurt: “When I was in the countryside, you visited once a month. Each time you brought 15 loaves of bread and some hand-me-downs.” “Did you really think half a loaf of bread a day was enough to keep me full?” “I followed Grandma around collecting cans and recyclables just to barely put food on the table!” “And those old clothes you gave me—did you think they even fit? I got made fun of by my classmates all through elementary school!” Mom rolled her eyes. “You’re just holding a grudge! Don’t you know I was teaching you to be resilient and work hard!” “Besides, I fed you, didn’t I? How is that not raising you?” Hearing this made me even angrier: “You raised me? By making me do endless chores every day just to earn scraps of leftovers?” “You raised me? By sending Derek and Jessica to extracurricular classes while I collected recyclables to save up for my own textbooks?” Mom glared at me again. “Their IQs are almost 140. Can you even compare?” I broke down crying. “Just because my IQ isn’t as high as theirs, I don’t deserve to be your child?!” Mom remained unmoved. “Cut the drama! The fact is they’re better than you and more valuable.” “Mom! Enough!” I completely lost it. Mom snorted and sat down, crossing her arms. “You idiot, go wash the dishes in the kitchen. Don’t distract Derek and Jessica from studying!” I wiped my tears and looked at my brother. “You think this is fair too?” Derek glanced at Mom and mumbled, “I… I don’t know, don’t ask me… I just do what Mom says.” I laughed bitterly and turned to my sister. “What about you?” Jessica frowned and stated flatly, “I listen to Mom too.” “Besides, that property was Mom’s. She can distribute the money however she wants. I respect her decision.” I laughed again, but there was no humor in it. I slowly stood up, clutching the multimillion-dollar lottery ticket in my pocket, and looked at them: “Fine. You all respect her, so I will too. I won’t fight over that money.” I took a deep breath. “But if you’re taking all the benefits, don’t expect me to care for her in her old age.” “Let’s cut ties from now on!” The moment I finished speaking, Mom jumped up and slapped me hard across the face: “You ungrateful brat! You’re just being bitter because you don’t want to care for me, aren’t you?” “Get out of this house right now!”

I walked through the streets as heavy snow fell. Christmas Eve. All the shops were closed. I couldn’t even spot a single lit-up motel sign. I huddled under a bus stop shelter, clutching the lottery ticket in my pocket. That was the only thing that gave me a glimmer of hope. I had planned to announce on Christmas Eve that I’d won $100 million in the lottery and promise each of them $20 million. So Derek could buy a house in New York without worrying and focus on his research. So Jessica could freely pursue her finance career dreams, and Mom could live comfortably in her old age. Maybe God took pity on me and didn’t want them to take advantage of me. At the last moment, He let me see them for who they really are. Letting that false sense of family love I’d been clinging to completely fade away. It was for the best. Not too late. After searching for a long time, I finally found a small motel still open. I checked in and had just finished eating some bread when my phone rang. I looked at the screen. It was my uncle—Mom’s brother. As soon as I answered, his loud, accusatory voice came through: “You brat! Why did you make your mother angry? You have no respect!” I shot back, “Mom kicked me out.” He continued blaming me. “That was just angry talk! Why would a child argue with their parents like that?” “Do you know how hard it was for your mom to raise you? So what if she didn’t give you any money?” “That’s your mom’s money. She can give it to whoever she wants!” “Derek has his Ivy League PhD, Jessica has her top MBA. They’re the ones who deserve it. You’re just a high school dropout with nothing going for you!” My chest felt tight: “Just because I didn’t do as well in school, I don’t deserve fair treatment? I should just be a servant and smile while watching them take everything?” Richard got even angrier: “Why are you being so petty with family? You need to think of the bigger picture!” “Go home right now and apologize to your mother. Someone like you should be the family caretaker!” I was furious. “Why should I?” Richard was breathing heavily with anger: “You brat, how dare you talk back to me! Don’t you understand respect? How can you be so dense!” I hung up and blocked his number. The world went quiet.

The next day was Christmas. My phone rang again. It was my sister Jessica calling. I hesitated for a few seconds but answered. She got straight to the point. “Clara, Mom slipped and fell looking for you last night. She broke her leg. Come home and take care of her.” My mind was still foggy. “Broken leg? Where did she look for me? Why didn’t she call me?” “Hurry up. Derek and I still have dissertation work. We don’t have time.” I sat up and rubbed my temples. “Didn’t she give you both four million total? Can’t you hire a caregiver?” Jessica got defensive. “Clara, what’s that supposed to mean? She’s your mother too, right? Taking care of her is your responsibility.” “Derek and I have studies to focus on. We don’t have time for this pointless argument.” I smiled. “So you take the money and I do the work? I’m just a free caretaker, is that it?” “Have you no shame?” Jessica’s voice suddenly rose. “Clara! Mom raised you and you don’t even care about her—” I gripped my phone tighter. “The way she raised me was making me collect recyclables for textbook money, making me eat leftovers and do all the housework, giving all the property money to you two, and then expecting me to take care of her in old age?” “Do you have a conscience? Is this fair?” “Fair?” Jessica laughed bitterly. “The world isn’t fair.” “You’re a high school graduate. How much can you make in a month? I have an MBA from a top business school. My starting salary will be several times yours. My future social status is something you can’t even dream of.” What’s wrong with Mom investing money in people with more potential?” As I listened, my heart sank more and more. So in their eyes, people really were only worth what they could earn. “So because I have no value, I deserve to be sacrificed, is that it?” Jessica’s voice was full of impatience: “Good that you understand. Cut the drama and just get over here!” “I’m not coming.” I said firmly. “What did you say?!” “I said I’m not coming.” I enunciated each word. “You took the money. You take care of her yourselves. As of last night, she’s not my mother anymore.” Jessica cursed at me through the phone: “Clara! You’re such a bitch!” “I’m telling you, if you don’t come today, don’t ever think about stepping through that door again!” I laughed dryly. “I never wanted to go through that door again anyway.” I hung up. Then I blocked her too. I hadn’t slept well last night and had a bit of a headache. I turned over, planning to sleep a bit more. Just as I was dozing off, the phone rang again. This time it was my aunt—Mom’s sister calling. I was annoyed as hell and almost hung up immediately. But she’d been relatively decent to me before. I didn’t know what I was hoping for, but I answered. Her voice was a bit hoarse. “Spending Christmas alone out there… You’re not freezing, are you?” My heart softened slightly. I answered quietly, “I’m okay.” She paused, her voice gentler: “Your mom fell. She’s lying in bed and can’t move… Can you come back and take care of her?” That little bit of warmth in my heart felt like it had been pricked with a needle. I didn’t know what to say. “I know you’re hurting.” She sighed. “But honey, she’s your only mother. Can you really be so heartless? What if you regret it later?” She was here to persuade me too. My heart instantly went cold. I didn’t want to say anything else. Only the sound of breathing remained on the phone. “…Think about it carefully. Call me if you need anything.” She sighed and hung up. I held my phone in silence for a long time, then went through my contacts one by one, blocking all those relatives’ numbers. I took a deep breath and pulled back the curtains. Outside was a white expanse. From today on, I would only live for myself.

In the afternoon, some convenience stores opened. I went to buy some food. As soon as I came out, I heard a familiar voice: “Clara!” My heart skipped a beat. I saw Richard standing not far away, smoking a cigarette. I turned and walked away, my steps getting faster and faster, almost running. “Clara! Stop right there!” His voice chased after me. I turned into a narrow alley, my heart pounding like a drum. Just as I caught my breath, at the other end of the alley, the men he’d brought blocked my way. I was trapped. They were like two walls, trapping me in the middle. Richard snatched the bag from my hands. The bread I’d just bought scattered all over the ground. “Come back with us!” “I won’t!” I tried hard to shake off his hand. “You don’t have a choice!” He grabbed my arm, his grip so strong it hurt my bones. The two of them dragged me back, half pulling, half carrying. When we entered the house, I saw Mom lying on the couch eating cookies. “Here’s your girl.” He pushed me forward. “Kneel down!” Richard shouted and kicked me to the ground. I lifted my head and glared at Mom with hatred. “What are you glaring at?” Mom sat up. “Raised you all these years for nothing? My leg is hurt this badly and you run faster than a rabbit! Did a dog eat your conscience?” I smiled. “You’re talking to me about conscience? Did your conscience go with that four million to your two precious kids?” As I spoke, I looked at her perfectly fine legs. “You broke your leg but you can sit up? Why isn’t it in a cast and elevated?” “How dare you talk back!” Mom slapped me. I immediately tasted blood in my mouth. Richard looked at me with disgust. “Keeping this brat around is just trouble. Might as well…” He lowered his voice, but I heard every word clearly: “I know some people in rural areas who are desperate for wives.” “This girl may only have a high school diploma, but she’s pretty enough. We could get twenty or thirty thousand for her. That money would be enough to keep you comfortable in your old age.” A chill ran through my body. I looked at them in disbelief. Mom pressed her lips together and lowered her eyelids. From her throat came a muffled: “…That could work.” My whole body trembled. I was filled with hatred. I struggled to get up and saw the fruit knife next to the fruit bowl on the coffee table. They were still quietly discussing the details of selling me. Just as Mom reached out to grab me again, I lunged forward, grabbed the knife, and held it against my own throat. I screamed: “You want money, don’t you? You want to sell me?!” My eyes were red as I looked at each of their faces: “If you keep pushing me, I’ll die right here and now. Let’s see if the police can figure out that you drove me to it!” “Clara! Are you crazy! Put down the knife!” Mom’s voice trembled with fear. I smiled. I knew she wasn’t worried about me. She was worried that if something happened to me, it might affect Derek and Jessica’s reputation. Holding the fruit knife, I backed toward the door. My eyes never left them: “Don’t follow me.” “Anyone who follows me, I’ll fight to the death.”

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The company decided to downsize using what seemed like a fair method—an anonymous online vote. Whoever got the most votes would be let go. The boss gave us one day to cast our ballots. The next day, when Mr. Reid announced the results, I was shocked. The entire company had only 198 employees. All 197 votes went to me. I stood up with a bitter smile, ready to process my termination. But Mr. Reid stopped me. “Wait. Look at this first.” He opened the online voting system’s records. All 197 votes had been cast in the exact same second. I understood immediately—this wasn’t a fair vote at all! Mr. Harrison Reid announced: “The layoff is suspended for now. IT department, investigate this voting system first.” Then Harrison glanced at me. “Clara, you stay.” Vivian Matthews, the project manager, was the last to leave. As she passed by, she lightly patted my shoulder. “Clara, don’t worry. I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.” I nodded. When only Mr. Reid and I remained in the conference room, he placed a document in front of me. “This is your performance record for the past six months.” I looked down. My rating was “Outstanding.” “Why do you think an employee with perfect performance reviews would be unanimously voted out by the entire company?” Harrison’s question hung in the air. I stayed silent, my mind racing. Vivian always presented my PowerPoint presentations during work reports as “our team’s results.” Technical problems I’d solved after working until midnight were claimed as her achievements the next day. Last quarter’s most important project—she screwed it up, and I pulled three all-nighters to salvage it. I thought if I just worked hard and treated people kindly, I’d eventually earn recognition. Turns out, in their eyes, my tolerance just meant I could be pushed around. “Mr. Reid, why are you helping me?” I looked up at Harrison. Harrison leaned back in his chair. “I’m not helping you. I’m helping the company eliminate parasites. This company needs real talent.” I understood immediately. “I’m giving you one week,” Harrison said. “Find the parasite.” “I’ll need help.” I looked at him and stated my condition. Harrison seemed to have expected this. “IT will cooperate with you. Officially, starting now, you’ve been suspended and need to process your termination immediately.” “Alright.” I nodded. When I walked out of Harrison’s office, my coworkers’ laughter stopped abruptly. Vivian was the first to react. She walked over with her coffee mug. “Clara, finished talking with the boss? How’d it go? Everything okay?” I looked at her and smiled. “It’s fine.” “Mr. Reid asked me to resign. I’m leaving.” I clearly saw a flash of barely concealed triumph in her eyes. “What? How could this happen…” She covered her mouth dramatically, pretending to be dismayed. “Well, don’t be too upset. Think of it as a vacation. You can find work anywhere, right?” The surrounding coworkers chimed in. “Yeah, Clara, don’t take it to heart.” “Vivian’s right. A new job might be better for you anyway.” I looked at these people. They were like vultures circling. “Thanks for your concern, everyone.” After speaking, I turned and went back to my desk.

Early the next morning, I began processing my so-called termination. According to procedure, I needed to transfer all my unfinished work to the project manager—Vivian Matthews. She sat at my workstation with a handover checklist, like an inspector. The project she was responsible for—I’d pulled several all-nighters last month to finish it. “Why does this data look wrong?” Vivian pointed at a report on the screen. My heart sank. I leaned in to look. That was the final version I’d submitted last Friday. I’d checked it at least ten times. There couldn’t be any problems. “I remember everything was fine when I handed it to you.” “Really?” Vivian raised an eyebrow. “Maybe I’m misremembering, or maybe you accidentally messed it up?” She turned to a coworker at the next desk and smiled. “Well, Clara’s been under a lot of stress lately. Mistakes are understandable.” She said “understandable,” but her expression clearly said “see, she’s just incompetent.” “But it’s a small issue. I’ll fix it.” She appeared very magnanimous, picking up the mouse to help me correct it. I watched her randomly modify my spreadsheet, and a bad feeling rose in my chest. I couldn’t confront her on the spot. I needed evidence. I straightened up and casually picked up my water glass. “I’m going to get some water.” I turned toward the break room. She didn’t know I’d already started the screen recording function on my computer. Her every move was being captured. I lingered in the break area for a moment before returning to my desk. She had “found” three of my “mistakes.” By the end, I’d become a waste of space with questionable abilities in the entire department’s eyes. And she was the perfect manager who’d salvaged everything and showed mercy to her incompetent subordinate. The handover finished. I carried my small cardboard box, ready to leave. Vivian even “kindly” walked me to the elevator. “Clara, let’s keep in touch.” She waved at me with a smile, triumph practically overflowing from her eyes. I walked to a coffee shop at the corner across from the company and found the most secluded seat. I pulled out my USB drive and copied the video I’d just recorded. Putting on headphones, I slowed the playback speed to one-third. At exactly fifteen minutes and three seconds into the video. I clearly saw Vivian’s fingers, in the gap between rapidly switching windows. Precisely click open a subfolder in my work files. Then she selected a document named “Final Backup – DO NOT TOUCH.” Without hesitation, she pressed Delete. That document was the most original, most complete backup of real data for the project she was responsible for. My heartbeat nearly stopped in that instant.

I extracted that crucial video segment and sent it to Harrison via encrypted email. Five minutes later, my phone vibrated. It was Harrison’s brief reply. “Continue.” Very much his style. He didn’t want the process. He wanted results. One video could only prove Vivian was guilty of deleting my files, but it wasn’t enough to directly link her to those 197 votes. I needed more direct evidence. I pulled out my work phone and dialed an encrypted number. The call was answered quickly. “Hello, Clara.” It was Lucas Gray from IT, the person Harrison had assigned to help with my investigation. He was a recent college grad with great technical skills but an introverted personality. He rarely spoke at the company. I’d once helped him out when older employees were giving him a hard time. “Lucas, can you check if there were any unusual operations on Vivian’s work computer yesterday between nine and ten AM?” I asked in a low voice. “Sure, give me a moment.” Lucas agreed readily. I picked up the now-cold coffee in front of me. My brain was like a machine running at high speed, replaying every detail of the situation. Why would Vivian do this? Just to get rid of me and eliminate a potential competitor? No, the cost was too high. The file she deleted must hide a bigger secret. Half an hour later, Lucas called back. “Clara, I checked. There’s nothing.” His voice sounded a bit dejected. “She just sent and received emails, browsed the intranet—exactly like a normal employee.” The lead had gone cold. But I wasn’t giving up. I leaned back on the coffee shop sofa, forcing myself to calm down. Same-second voting. That absolutely couldn’t be 197 people manually clicking. It must have used some kind of script or program that completed all operations instantly through a single command. If there was no problem with Vivian’s own computer… Then where was the “server” that executed this program? That platform that could centrally control, or rather, could be exploited for unified operations… A thought suddenly flashed through my mind. Cloud server! The company had rented a large cloud server so employees could work remotely anytime, anywhere. All employee accounts could log in through specific ports and authorizations. That platform had extremely high permissions. Theoretically, if someone obtained high enough access, they could absolutely perform batch operations. I immediately grabbed my phone and called Lucas again. “Lucas, don’t check individual computers! Check the cloud server! Check all backend login logs at exactly 9:31 AM yesterday!”

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My husband came home with a nanny one day, and she had a five-year-old boy in tow. He told me the child was adopted from an orphanage. But late that night, in the basement, I saw Michael savagely making out with the nanny. “Thank you, my love, for giving me a son.” The nanny trembled, whimpering softly. “So when are you finally going to divorce her and marry me?” Five years ago, I was badly burned on my back saving Michael from a fire, leaving me unable to have children. He had held me then, crying hysterically, repeating over and over that it didn’t matter if we never had children, as long as he had me. It was all a lie. I stood in the shadows, a cold, mocking smile twisting my lips. That kind of man, tainted to the core, was not worth keeping. Victoria POV Michael and I had been married for nine years, known in our social circle as the quintessential power couple. That perception shattered completely the moment I saw Michael holding a five-year-old boy. The reason was simple: that child wasn’t mine. Michael, usually so aloof in public, was now softly coaxing the child in a doting tone. “Alex, listen to your mom.” My mind went blank with a loud buzz, as if I couldn’t hear anything else. Five years ago, I was badly burned on my back saving Michael from a fire, and I lost the ability to have children after that. I remember Michael kneeling by my hospital bed, clutching my hand tightly, his eyes red as he swore, “I don’t want children, Victoria, I only want you.” Those vows still echoed in my ears, yet the scene before me crushed everything. He was holding a child, a child he had with another woman, calling his name so tenderly. I clamped a hand over my mouth, desperate to stifle my sobs, and spun on my heel, fleeing. At the gallery entrance, my friend Jennifer looked startled by my pale face. I held her, my fingertips cold, my voice dry and hoarse. “Jennifer, I need you to look into Michael. He might have a son.” Only then did I finally understand: all these years he had held me like a precious treasure, it was all just a sweet, cruel deception. When I got home, I received a text from Michael. “Three more days until my business trip ends. Miss me?” followed by a kiss emoji. I stared at the message, tears streaming down my face. For the past five years, he’d always gone to Europe for a month every autumn. I always thought he was working tirelessly for his business empire, but now I understood. That month was for his other family. Outside, snow had begun to fall, silently blanketing the old oak trees beyond my window. I scrolled through the files Jennifer had sent. The woman’s name was Emma, and she’d grown up with Michael. He’d once gotten into a fight for her on the football field, breaking a bone. He’d bought her a rare antique wristwatch. He’d even defied his entire family to marry her. All those grand, dramatic gestures from our past… they just twisted the knife deeper into the gaping wound of his betrayal. My phone rang, Michael’s name flashing on the screen. I bit my lip hard, letting it ring again and again, but eventually, I answered with a trembling hand. “Why did it take you so long to pick up?” His voice on the other end was as gentle as ever. “Are you being disobedient again, not eating properly?” My fingers curled into fists. He used to hold me like this too, laughing softly as he asked, “Are you not eating properly again? If you get too thin, I’ll worry sick.” I shook my head. “No.” He would then kiss my earlobe, whispering with a low laugh, “Such a naughty girl? Victoria, do I need to keep an eye on you at all times?” I used to think we’d be like this forever. For the first time, I lied to him, my voice muffled, like I was genuinely sick. “A bit of a cold. I’m already in bed.” “A cold?” His tone immediately tensed. “Is it serious? I’ll fly back right now.” “No need.” I quickly stopped him, a hint of detachment in my voice that I hadn’t even realized was there. “I’ve taken medicine. I’ll be fine after a good sleep.” I was about to hang up when a woman’s languid, intimate voice came through the receiver. “Michael, Alex is asleep. We can-” The call was abruptly disconnected by Michael. He was with that woman right now. I stared at my silent phone, unable to hold back any longer, and burst into tears. Jennifer rushed into the room, pulling me into a heartbroken embrace. “It’s okay, sweetie. I’m here.”

Victoria POV When I opened my eyes again, the window outside was dazzlingly white. “Victoria, how are you feeling? Is there anything else bothering you?” I heard a familiar voice, and as soon as my eyes opened, I saw Jennifer’s face, etched with worry. Jennifer sat by the bed, her eyes bloodshot. She must have stayed up all night watching over me. “I’m fine.” Memories from before I passed out flooded my mind, and I forced myself to sit up. “I’m sorry to have worried you.” Jennifer nodded, her voice filled with lingering fear. “You scared me half to death yesterday. I was genuinely afraid you’d do something drastic.” Mid-sentence, my phone rang. I answered, my voice already calm. “Richard.” “Victoria, why is your voice a little hoarse? Did you pull another all-nighter?” “No, Richard. Isn’t the Zurich branch short on staff? I’d like to go help out there.” My father on the other end paused. “Why the sudden urge to go to Switzerland?” “I want a change of scenery.” I glanced out the window. “Jennifer is also going back next month. I want to go with her.” My father was silent for a long time, then finally sighed. “Alright, whatever you want.” I hung up, and Jennifer looked at me worriedly. “Are you really sure about this?” I nodded. The lawyer had emailed the draft of our divorce papers. I stared at the screen, every word stinging my eyes. I still hadn’t figured out how to bring it up with Michael. Too much bound us together: the business alliance between our families, decades of friendship. As I was leaving Jennifer’s apartment and getting into my car, I saw a familiar figure. Michael. Why was he here? Wasn’t he supposed to be away for three more days? The man wore a perfectly tailored custom suit, his figure tall and lean, but his eyes showed signs of fatigue. He walked quickly, opening the car door. “Your voice sounded off on the phone. I was worried, so I flew back last night.” He said, pulling me into his embrace. That embrace, which once brought me immense comfort, now made me tremble uncontrollably. My mind was filled with Emma’s voice and the image of that child calling him “Daddy.” I clenched my hands, forcing myself not to push him away. He used to hold me like this too, laughing softly as he asked, “What are you overthinking now? Hm?” I shook my head. “Nothing.” He pulled me closer, whispering with a low laugh in my ear, “My sweet little liar, you’re never allowed to leave me. No matter where you run, I’ll find you. Understand?” I used to think I could never escape, but this time, I wanted to leave on my own. “You look like you’ve lost weight.” He caressed my cheek with his thumb, his eyes full of tenderness. “Are you not eating properly again when I’m not home?” I couldn’t understand how a man who’d been with his mistress the night before could so calmly say such things to his wife. I didn’t want to explain, just shook my head. “No, I’m just a little tired.” I could see he was about to say more, but my gaze caught a slender figure standing a short distance away. Emma. She was in a white dress, her long hair loose over her shoulders, looking utterly fragile. Just then, Michael’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen; I saw it too. It was Emma calling. Michael’s face looked troubled. He quickly hung up and kissed my forehead apologetically. “Something urgent came up at the office. I have to go there. You wait for me at home, and tonight I’ll take you to your favorite Italian restaurant.” With that, he hurried into his car. After the car drove away, Emma slowly walked towards me in her high heels. “Ms. Victoria,” she said, introducing herself with a smile, her eyes full of scrutiny and challenge. Seeing me, Emma knew I had figured everything out, and the smile on her lips deepened. “It seems Ms. Victoria already knows about Alex and me.” She paused, her voice brimming with ill-concealed triumph. “Ms. Victoria, Michael’s wife will only ever be me.”

Victoria POV I took a taxi and followed Emma’s car to a private clinic. Her car had just pulled up to the entrance. I paid the driver and followed her inside. I walked to the end of the hallway and saw a boy lying in a hospital room. It was Alex. His face was pale, an IV drip in his arm. Michael was yelling at a doctor in a white coat. “Why did he suddenly get a high fever? Is this how you take care of patients?!” “Michael, calm down!” The doctor seemed quite familiar with Michael and tried to reason with him. “What good does it do to yell at me?!” I hid behind the wall, my heart growing colder with every word I heard. “I told you long ago, if you only want one child, you shouldn’t keep Emma around! And now? The child cries without her, and you can’t bring yourself to be firm. What kind of mess is this?” “Victoria is the only woman I love, but the family cannot be without an heir.” Michael’s voice was weary. “Emma… she did bear me a child, after all. I can’t treat her badly.” The moment he finished speaking, the hospital room door opened. Emma walked in, carrying a cup of water, her eyes red. As soon as she saw the child on the bed, tears began to fall. “It’s all my fault… I should’ve looked after Alex better.” She sobbed, shoulders trembling, looking utterly helpless. Michael’s heart softened. He stepped forward and pulled her into his embrace, murmuring comfort. “Don’t blame yourself. Alex is our child. I will find the best doctor.” “Our child.” The words hit me like a blow, crushing my heart. Emma leaned into his embrace, sobbing, “Michael, I know I shouldn’t ask for anything, but as long as I can be with Alex as he grows up, I’ll be perfectly content…” Michael was touched by her words and raised his thumb to wipe away her tears. That intimate gesture stung my eyes. I clenched my hands, my fingernails digging into my flesh, but I felt no pain. The pain in my heart had already overshadowed everything else. I turned and left, my steps numb. Snow had started falling again outside. The flakes landed on my face, melting into icy streaks, making it impossible to tell if they were snow or tears. I walked into the corporate building, drenched. The receptionist looked up, startled by my disheveled appearance. “Ms. Victoria, what happened? Should I call Mr. Michael? He’ll be heartbroken if he sees you like this.” Those words, which would sound normal to anyone else, were the greatest irony to me. Heartbroken? He was busy being heartbroken over another woman right now. I said nothing, walking directly into the conference room and locking the door. I leaned against the door, slowly sliding down until I was on the floor. I couldn’t hold back anymore. I buried my face in my knees and wept uncontrollably. I thought I had become numb, but seeing that little family of three with my own eyes had completely broken me. Nine years of love, a childhood sweetheart connection, those moments of life-and-death reliance… it all meant nothing compared to “the family cannot be without an heir.” I don’t know how long I cried. Only when my tears ran dry did I lean against the wall and stand up. I walked into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. My eyes were raw, my skin bloodless. A laugh escaped me. What was the point of crying? I changed into a spare business suit, transforming back into the aloof corporate heiress. I didn’t even glance at the string of messages and missed calls from Michael on my phone. In the evening, I dragged my exhausted body back to the mansion. I had decided: I would pack my things and leave tonight. But when I pushed open the front door, I saw Emma and Alex sitting in my living room.

Victoria POV The crystal chandelier in the living room shone brilliantly, but my gaze was utterly cold. Emma, dressed in a brand-new maid’s uniform, stood up immediately when she saw me and curtsied respectfully. “You’re back.” And the boy named Alex was busy smashing a limited-edition model car against the floor. It was from my favorite collection, one I’d worked hard to complete. “What is going on here?” My voice was as cold as ice. Michael hurried down from upstairs, forcing an unnatural smile. “Victoria, you’re back. This is… a nanny sent by my mother. She said the house was too empty, and she’s here to look after this child.” He gestured towards Alex, telling a pathetic lie. “My mother brought this child back from an orphanage. She felt sorry for him, so she brought him home to raise.” I was trembling with rage. “An orphanage? Michael, do you take me for a fool?” I pointed at the child, who was practically a carbon copy of him, my voice shaking. “Do you find it amusing to carve away at my heart, piece by piece, like this?” Seeing my genuine anger, Michael panicked. He stepped forward and grabbed my hand. “Victoria, don’t be angry,” he pleaded, eager to state his position. “If you don’t like him, I’ll send him away immediately!” His phony love only disgusted me. Alex seemed startled and suddenly burst into tears, pointing at me and screaming, “Bad woman! You’re bullying my mommy!” “Alex!” Michael snapped sternly. Emma immediately rushed over and hugged her son, then looked at Michael with red-rimmed eyes. “Sir, please don’t blame him. He’s just… he’s just shy around strangers.” Michael’s tone indeed softened. I looked at the glaring scene before me, feeling a chill run through my entire body. I yanked my hand free from Michael’s grasp and walked upstairs without a word. The bedroom door slammed shut, cutting off everything. Michael stood by the door for a while, murmuring a few comforting words, but when he heard no response, he turned and left. Not long after, my phone received a message. It was from Emma: “Ms. Victoria, if you lock Michael out, don’t blame him for coming to me for comfort.” I deleted the message and got up to leave the bedroom. The villa was quiet. I found myself walking towards the basement wine cellar door. It was ajar, a dim yellow light spilling out. I drew closer and distinctly heard a woman’s gasps and a man’s low grunts coming from inside. “Michael… be gentle… it hurts…” “Isn’t this what you asked for? Afraid of pain, yet you still tried to lure me down here?” Michael’s voice was hoarse and impatient, but his actions didn’t stop. “I’m warning you, Emma. Don’t provoke Victoria again, otherwise…” The woman’s moans drowned out the rest of his words. I froze in place, utterly cold. I lay back in bed just before dawn, staring blankly at the ceiling. Nine years of love, a whirlwind courtship. All of it shattered in this moment. This time, I was the one who didn’t want him.

Victoria POV The next morning, when I went downstairs, Emma had already taken off that irritating maid’s uniform. She wore a sea-green silk dress, her curves exquisitely outlined. Only then did I notice that Emma’s eyes and brows bore a slight resemblance to mine. No wonder Michael had chosen her. “You’re awake? Come have breakfast.” Emma greeted me warmly, as if she were the lady of the house. As she spoke, she deliberately turned sideways, revealing faint red marks on her neck, intimate and jarring. But what truly made my pupils constrict was the brooch pinned to her chest. A vintage brooch, set with a pigeon-blood ruby, dazzling and radiant. I recognized it. It was Michael’s family heirloom, passed down only to the lady of the house. I remembered years ago, Michael had asked his mother for this brooch for me, only to be coldly refused because I couldn’t have children. “A woman who can’t even bear children, how dare she wear our family’s heirloom?” His mother’s cutting words still echoed in my ears. And now, this brooch, symbolizing status and acceptance, was blatantly worn on the chest of a mistress. In that moment, I finally woke up. My previous notion of sparing the families decades of friendship, of not wanting to make things too ugly, seemed utterly ridiculous. It turned out that in his mother’s eyes, and even the entire family’s, Emma, the woman who could bear an heir, was already their recognized daughter-in-law. And I was merely a clown, kept in the dark, clinging to a position that wasn’t truly mine. Michael walked downstairs, dressed in fresh loungewear. He first exchanged a knowing glance with Emma, then quickly approached me, reaching out to feel my forehead, his face full of concern. “Why is your face so pale? Did you catch a chill last night? Don’t go to the office today, I’ll stay and keep you company.” I watched his brilliant acting, feeling a wave of nausea rise in my stomach. Staying with him for even one more second made me feel suffocated. He felt… dirty. “No need.” I coldly pushed his hand away. “There’s still a lot to do at the office.” Just then, Emma walked over with a cup of coffee, saying softly, “Michael, your coffee.” She naturally reached out to straighten his slightly disheveled collar. And Michael instinctively lowered his head, accommodating her actions. It was an incredibly familiar, habitual gesture. More hurtful than any deliberate display. The surrounding staff all gasped audibly. Michael also seemed to realize the impropriety and immediately stepped back, creating distance between himself and Emma. He picked up his jacket, walked to my side, and leaned down to press a light kiss on my forehead. “Wait for me to come back.” He used the same doting tone he had used last night in the wine cellar when speaking to the other woman.

Victoria POV After Michael left, I calmly finished my breakfast. I didn’t spare Emma another glance, walking straight upstairs to pack my luggage. All the things Michael had given me, filling an entire walk-in closet, were packed one by one. I called my assistant and instructed him to send them all to an auction house. “All proceeds are to be donated to charity in my name.” If I was going to cut ties, I would cut them completely. “Ms. Victoria, are you planning to run away from home?” Emma appeared behind me at some point, leaning against the doorframe, a triumphant smile on her face. “Well, a woman who can’t have children, occupying Michael’s wife’s position for so many years, it’s about time she made way.” Her words hit me squarely in my most painful spot. In the past, I might have been furious, lost control. But now, I just looked at her calmly. “Michael’s wife’s position? If you want it so badly, take it.” I pulled the already signed divorce papers from my bag and handed them to Emma. “Here.” Emma’s smile froze, her face a mask of shock as she stared at the document. I looked down at her, a hint of amusement in my voice. “You know how deep Michael’s feelings are for me. Getting him to willingly sign this won’t be easy.” I spoke like a queen bestowing a favor upon a petty schemer. “I’m giving you the divorce papers. If you’re capable, get him to sign it and bring it to me. If you’re not, then be prepared to be an unseen mistress for the rest of your life!” Emma’s face changed colors, but ultimately, temptation won over reason. She snatched the divorce papers, her eyes gleaming with greed and ecstasy. Though she felt suspicious of my swift and decisive relinquishment, she believed even more strongly that I was merely bluffing. How could a woman Michael had doted on for so many years truly be willing to let go? Watching Emma rush away with the document, a flicker of mockery crossed my eyes. After packing my last piece of luggage, I sat in the living room, quietly waiting for Jennifer to pick me up. My gaze swept across the empty living room, and I suddenly realized that I hadn’t seen Alex, the child, since morning. A faint unease stirred within me. Just then, the villa’s front door was violently pushed open from outside. Michael burst in, frantic, followed by his mother, Eleanor, her face ashen, and… Emma, weeping bitterly. “Victoria!” Emma came at me like a feral thing, slamming me hard toward the sharp corner of the side table. “Where is my Alex? What did you do to him?” The blow dazed me. My vision blurred as sharp pain shot through my elbow. I steadied myself and stared coldly at the frantic woman. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “How dare you lie!” Emma suddenly grabbed a fruit knife from the bowl, pressing its sharp tip to my throat. “You can’t stand my child because of some divorce papers? Victoria, how can you be so evil?”

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My wife Sera had started a new company in Britain and was looking for my investment. I went in undercover as a new hire to see it for myself. On my first day, I spotted a young man sauntering past, a cigar dangling from his lips, a glass of whiskey in his hand, swirling the ice. I stepped forward and confronted him. “Company policy strictly prohibits smoking and drinking in the office.” But the young man just threw the whiskey right in my face. “Who the hell are you to tell me what to do?” I was about to retaliate, but the HR manager quickly stepped in to hold me back. Mr. Henderson cringed, bowing slightly toward the young man. “Mr. Shaw, my apologies! He’s a new employee who just started today and doesn’t know the rules!” Then, Mr. Henderson tugged at my sleeve. “Apologize to Mr. Shaw right now! Mr. Shaw is our CEO, Ms. Vance’s husband.” I just smiled and immediately sent Sera a message: “So you have a new husband. I assume he’ll be funding your company then?” Mr. Henderson’s face was plastered with a sycophantic grin as he turned to Damian. “Please don’t mind the new guy. I just bought a bottle of Lafite yesterday; I’ll have someone send it to your office.” Then, he shot me a warning glance and pulled me aside. “You have a full day’s work ahead. You’re not leaving until it’s done!” With that, Mr. Henderson ushered me into his office. Once the door was shut, he let out a sigh. “We desperately need someone with your talent. But remember, whatever you do, do not cross Damian Shaw in this company. He’s our Vice President and our CEO’s husband.” I nodded, not ready to reveal the truth just yet. But just as I sat down and started reviewing some financial statements, Damian’s angry shouts echoed from outside. “Sera Vance chased me for years, practically begged me to be her VP, and only then did I deign to marry her. And you, a worthless newbie, actually dared to disrespect me?” With that, the office door was kicked open. Damian, clearly drunk, propped his foot up on an office chair. He pointed to his Italian handmade leather shoes and sneered, “Newbie, wipe the dust off my shoes. Do that, and I’ll generously forgive you for this morning’s stunt!” Damian’s foot dangled provocatively in front of me. The sole just so happened to reveal a long, stamped serial number. Weren’t those the custom pair I’d had made for last month’s Global Investment Forum? I’d only worn them once before misplacing them somewhere. A smirk played on my lips. “How desperate are you, clinging to my sloppy seconds? You act like you’ve found gold.” “Custom shoes mold to the first wearer. They never fit another.” Damian’s face flushed crimson like a fighting rooster’s. He roared, “You broken loser, what the hell do you know? My wife, Sera Vance, bought these especially for me!” I scoffed. “Still second-hand!” Snickers from employees outside occasionally drifted in. Damian jumped up, yelling at Mr. Henderson. “Company regulations state that new employees must first intern on the production line. He walks in and dives straight into an office? Are you playing favorites? Do you want me to tell Sera Vance right now and get you fired too?!” After that, Damian stormed out of the office, shouting to the crowd outside. “Who the hell wants to get fired? Laughing during work hours? If I catch you, you’re GONE!” Done yelling, he flipped me off. “Go haul boxes in the factory, pretty boy! I’ll make you sweat blood till you beg for mercy!” With a final slam, he shut the office door. Mr. Henderson frowned, looking distressed. “Why’d you have to stir up trouble with that walking nightmare?” “You’ll have to go through the factory tour anyway. Just bear with him a little. Our company really needs talent like you. The benefits are good.” I actually wanted to see the factory. Vance Corp going bankrupt was inevitable. If I could acquire this entire facility for my own company, it would save me a ton of hassle. As soon as I stepped onto the factory floor, Damian had already arrived, yelling, “Come on out, everyone! New guy’s here! Come teach this newbie how to behave!” At this, many employees lowered their heads, nodding respectfully towards Damian. Just as Damian was basking in his glory, he noticed one employee hadn’t moved. He immediately started scolding Leo Maxwell, the production manager. “Didn’t you see everyone else bowing to welcome their boss? Why isn’t that employee moving from their station when they see me?” Leo patiently explained, “That station is crucial, it needs to be manned 24/7, or the production line will shut down!” Damian walked up and slapped Leo across the face. “I said, get him over here!”

Leo clutched his face, his eyes, initially filled with hurt, slowly hardening into anger. He shouted, his voice ringing out, “Security! Get Damian Shaw out of here! He’s disrupting production!” I secretly gave Leo a mental thumbs-up. This guy, I wanted him. Damian pulled out his phone, filming the workshop as he threatened, “Let’s see who dares? I’m Sera Vance’s husband!” Leo pointed at Damian’s phone. “Get his phone! Filming is strictly prohibited in the factory!” Damian kicked me in the butt. “Go beat up that ignorant idiot, and I’ll promote you to production manager today!” This guy, Damian, actually wanted to use me to do his dirty work? If I had really been just an intern, caught in this impossible situation, he might have actually trapped me. The kick sent me staggering forward a couple of steps before I regained my balance. I spun around and landed a punch on Damian. Damian roared in fury, giving an order. “Hit him!” The office building was already filled with Damian’s lackeys. At his command, they all rushed out, surrounding me in a thick crowd. I grabbed Damian by his collar and slammed his head into a rubber baton held by one of his bodyguards. Damian was on a video call with Sera, whining and complaining, “Sera, maybe I should just resign! Not only is that puny production manager messing with me, but even the new intern is bullying me!” Just then, Damian’s head hit the rubber baton with a dull THUD. Damian shrieked, “Ow! He’s killing me! This intern is trying to murder the CEO’s husband!” His phone clattered to the floor. Sera Vance, on the video call, had a face like thunder. She roared, “You’ve all lost your minds! Manager Maxwell from production is suspended, and that new intern is fired immediately! I have a very important meeting right now, I’ll deal with you all when I get back!” I leaned into the phone’s view for a moment, my voice calm. “If I were you, I’d come back right away. This meeting of yours isn’t important anymore. Vance Corp’s biggest problem isn’t finding investors, it’s how many days it has left.” Sera was stunned. “Why are you at the factory?” I spoke as evenly as I could. “I’m the intern you just fired!” “Get here within ten minutes. And you’d better explain why your ‘husband’ here is named Shaw.” Damian snatched my phone and smashed it to the ground, yelling at everyone in the factory, “Everyone at Vance Corp saw it!” “Mess with me, and my wife comes flying to my rescue. Now, you all kill this arrogant intern, and I’ll make sure there are no repercussions!” Even if I was a good fighter, being surrounded meant I was at a serious disadvantage. I quickly speed-dialed my bodyguards to hurry over. Damian grinned maliciously, signaling his bodyguards to swarm me. Several men pinned me down, forcing me to my knees. “So tough now, are you? Why aren’t you so tough anymore?” Damian punched me in the stomach. I gritted my teeth, glaring fiercely at him. “Still defiant? Get me a steel pipe!” Damian grabbed my hair, driving a fist into my face. “Let’s see how tough you are after I break your arm.” Just as he raised the steel pipe, a woman’s voice cut through the air, stopping him cold. “Alexander!”

It was Sera. Through the bodyguards, I saw her rushing in, her sky-high heels clicking frantically. “Where’s that intern?” “Right here.” Damian smugly stepped aside. “What’s this, any riff-raff can get into Vance Corp now?” “This bastard even dared to impersonate your husband.” Damian put his arm around Sera, not noticing her pale face. Sera pulled away from Damian’s arm, stumbling as she walked towards me. “Let me explain…” I spat out a mouthful of blood, staring intensely at her. “Explain what? Explain that you’re keeping a mistress on the side?” “Sera, what are you scared of?” Damian frowned. “He’s just an intern. It’d be easy to crush him, wouldn’t it?” “Shut up!” Sera roared, then SLAP, she slapped Damian across the face. Her voice trembled. “He’s the Chairman of our company!” “How dare you provoke him?!” Damian’s eyes widened in horror. “Chairman?! Then…” “So what?!” Damian’s expression changed. “Even if he’s the Chairman, we’re out here in the middle of nowhere. If we quietly get rid of him, who would ever know?” He slowly tried to coax her, “Are you content always being beneath him? If he dies, that position is yours.” A flicker of struggle crossed Sera’s eyes. I realized something was wrong and yelled, “Sera Vance, don’t you dare!” “What’s there to not dare?” Damian’s lips curled into a smile, and he viciously kicked me in the knee. “I told you, out here, I’m the law.” “You mess with me, you’ll go in walking, but you’ll be carried out in a body bag!” I looked at Sera, giving her one last chance. But she avoided my gaze, took the steel pipe Damian handed her, Her voice was thick with a conflicted regret. “You brought this on yourself.” “Don’t blame me.” “Blame yourself for showing up at the wrong time.” Just as she swung the steel pipe, a red dot appeared on Sera’s forehead. A violent gust of wind roared through, and a helicopter touched down on the lawn outside. One by one, armed bodyguards spilled out of the aircraft. “Nobody move!” My people had arrived!

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Adrian has a saliva allergy. Even the slightest contact with someone’s lips would cause his whole body to break out in hives. At our wedding, when the officiant asked us to kiss, just one light touch sent him into shock and straight to the hospital. During sex at night, he makes me wear a mask, terrified of coming into contact with my saliva. Rumors spread like wildfire. People said I had bad breath, that I carried bacteria, that I was the reason a perfectly good man had to be so cautious. To protect his pride, I silently endured all the speculation. Later, at a New Year’s party, he lost a game and took his punishment—holding alcohol in his mouth and passing it directly into his girl best friend’s mouth. After the drink was passed, they kept kissing. Adrian’s eyes were full of desire. Watching the lipstick mark on his lips and the strand of saliva between them, my heart sank. That’s when I realized his saliva allergy was only for me. If I hadn’t happened to be at that bar that night, I never would have seen it. Adrian, who claimed to be working overtime at the office, was now holding alcohol in his mouth and passing it without hesitation into Jessica’s mouth. After the drink was transferred, everyone around them started chanting, “Kiss! Kiss!” And Adrian actually did it, egged on by the crowd. He closed his eyes and they changed positions several times. When things got heated, he even used his tongue. I froze. At our wedding, a crowd had also chanted for Adrian to kiss me, but he’d flatly refused, citing his saliva allergy. Fighting back tears, I walked toward them. I hadn’t gone far when I bumped into the bar counter and fell. Glasses shattered everywhere with a loud crash. Everyone’s eyes shot in my direction. The two people who’d been making out stopped. Jessica walked over like a victor, reaching out as if to help me up. “Clara? What happened? Did you fall?” I slapped her hand away. “Get away from me!” But Jessica put on a pitiful expression. “Clara, please don’t be angry. We were just playing a game. You know Adrian and I have been like this since we were kids…” I swung my hand to slap her, but Adrian showed no regard for my situation and pulled Jessica behind him. “This is just a casual gathering with friends and there are so many people here. Have you made enough of a scene? Go home!” I laughed bitterly and walked step by step to sit among that group of friends. “A gathering with friends? As your wife, don’t I deserve a seat at the table?” Instantly everyone fell silent. The two people sitting closest to me instinctively pulled away. “She has bad breath and H. pylori, and she still has the nerve to play games with us! Aren’t you afraid of infecting us?” One of Jessica’s girlfriends spoke up indignantly. The others exchanged glances. I looked at Adrian. He sat next to Jessica, laughing along. Because Adrian had refused to be intimate with me all these years, rumors about me having bacteria and bad breath had run rampant. For the sake of his reputation, I’d never explained or defended myself. Yet now his friends could mock me with these private matters as if they were jokes. And he wouldn’t stand up to defend me. I pulled out my medical records. “Look closely. I don’t have any bacteria or bad breath. So I’m playing this game too!” Adrian jumped in to stop me. “Don’t be ridiculous! You’re pregnant!” “And you have a saliva allergy! But that didn’t stop you from kissing whoever you wanted!” Instantly, many curious eyes turned our way. Adrian’s ears turned bright red. He grabbed my arm, trying to shut me up. I stayed silent, and he stopped trying to prevent me from joining. The dice shook violently in my hand. I casually lifted the cup. “Three sixes!” The highest possible roll. Everyone was stunned, including Adrian. He rarely brought me to gatherings with friends. He had no idea I was good at this. “I won!” Jessica, who’d been sitting on Adrian’s lap moments ago, now looked like a startled chicken. “Jessica, I noticed you really enjoy mouth-to-mouth action. How about doing it with Marcus too!” The game rules were simple: the winner could make anyone present do a dare. She couldn’t refuse, but clearly didn’t want to. Adrian had told me that Marcus used to be Jessica’s devoted admirer. It would be nice to let him have his wish. But Adrian spoke up for her. “Clara, Jessica’s shy. Let’s skip this round!” I heard my own voice crack. “A deal’s a deal! Why is it okay for Jessica to kiss you but not someone else?” Jessica’s fists clenched so tight her nails dug into her palms. “Clara, it’s just a game. Don’t make things difficult for Jessica!” To plead for her, Adrian pushed me into the villain’s role. My lower abdomen started cramping again, but I couldn’t back down now. “She just had bad luck. How is that my fault?” Jessica couldn’t take it anymore. She ran out in fury. Adrian stood up too, leaving only one vicious sentence: “Happy now?” Then he chased after her. The whole gathering fell apart because of me. But strangely, I felt no victor’s joy—only growing emptiness. I staggered to my feet. The pain in my abdomen grew more intense. When I stumbled to the bathroom in panic, I discovered I was bleeding.

I don’t know how I got to the hospital. When I woke up, the doctor was already waiting impatiently by my ear. “Mrs. Lee, you’re hemorrhaging badly. We need to know whether to save you or the baby. Your husband needs to come sign the papers immediately!” I didn’t want to contact Adrian anymore. “Doctor… can I… sign myself?” The doctor shook her head. She said my own condition was critical—how could I make this decision? I could only force myself to call Adrian despite my nausea. At first the phone rang, but then it went straight to voicemail. “Bed 18! What are you doing? Where is he? Is he coming or not?” I helplessly dialed again and again. Ironically, while Adrian wouldn’t answer my calls, he posted on social media. It read: “Best friends till death!” The picture showed his and Jessica’s backs as they drank together. My head throbbed. My heart was dying. Soon after, Jessica sent me a video. In the video, on the bed I cleaned every day, torn clothes were scattered everywhere. Adrian and Jessica were tangled together. At the end, Jessica didn’t forget to text: “Clara, is something wrong? Adrian’s exhausted and fell asleep!” I hung up. A tear slid onto the white pillow. “Bed 18, your condition can’t wait any longer. You’re hemorrhaging badly. When is your husband coming?” The nurse was anxious again. I shook my head. “No one’s coming. My husband… he just died.” At my words, the nurse’s impatient expression turned to shock and sympathy. In the end, I signed the consent form for the abortion procedure alone and was wheeled into the operating room. I don’t know how long the surgery took. When I opened my eyes, my phone wouldn’t stop ringing. I looked—of course it was Adrian. I didn’t call back. I blocked his contact instead. During the four or five days I was hospitalized, no one came to my bedside. A nurse finally couldn’t stand it and hired a caregiver for me. While taking care of me, she asked, “Where’s your family?” My eyes went blank, staring into the distance. “In Harbor City. It’s far, and they’re old. I didn’t want them to make the difficult trip.” The caregiver patted my hand without saying anything. I suddenly missed home. My hand reached for my phone and unconsciously dialed Dad’s number. When I realized what I’d done, I quickly hung up. He must be frantically dealing with problems in Harbor City. I couldn’t let him see me like this. Soon, my father called back. I suppressed my longing and let it ring out. After being discharged, I rushed home to pack my things and leave. But I had the bad luck of running into Jessica.

When I opened the door and saw her, she was casually sitting in my usual spot on the sofa, sunflower seed shells scattered all over the floor. She wasn’t surprised to see me. She even invited me to sit down, as if she were the lady of the house. I kicked aside her shoes that were carelessly left by the door and walked straight to the bedroom without acknowledging her. She followed me in. “Clara, haven’t seen Adrian these past few days? Are you upset?” I treated her like air and opened the closet, only to discover that my belongings were just a few scattered items. “Don’t worry, Adrian’s doing great with me! He doesn’t really want to come back here either.” I still ignored her, silently filling my suitcase. Seeing my silence, she became irritated instead. She pointed at my nose and declared her territory: “Clara, I’m pregnant with Adrian’s baby. Step aside!” I really couldn’t understand this woman. One moment she said she and Adrian were just friends, the next she was telling me to step aside. But when she mentioned the baby, I thought of the little life that had belonged to me just days ago. My nose stung. I fought back the moisture in my eyes and forced a smile. “Really? Then congratulations!” “Clara, you’re really pathetic. I’m pregnant with his child and you still won’t leave? You can tolerate even this?” Slap! I struck her across the face, finally making up for what I’d missed at the bar that night. “Actually, I can’t tolerate it.” I said expressionlessly, “Even if I leave, it doesn’t mean you’ll ever get to climb above me.” Just then, I heard a key turning in the door. Perfect timing—Adrian had arrived. As soon as he saw the handprint on Jessica’s cheek, he started lecturing me without a second thought. “What’s wrong with you? You don’t answer calls, you don’t come home, and Jessica was worried about you and waited here for days. Now you’re bullying her again without even asking what happened!” “I’m bullying her?” I was too angry to have strength. I was too tired to explain. “Fine. Since you’re so protective of her, go be with her then!” At this point, Jessica started playing innocent again. “Adrian, is it because I’m here that Clara’s uncomfortable? She can’t stand me. I’ll just leave!” He grabbed Jessica’s hand. “Look at you, acting so childish when you’re about to be a mom. I’ve told you many times—Jessica and I are just friends. If there was something between us, would you even be in the picture?” He always said that. But whenever Jessica had a problem, he could drop everything and rush to her. On our engagement day, Jessica had just returned from abroad. One phone call and Adrian left all our relatives to pick her up at the airport. On our wedding day, Jessica couldn’t stand seeing us intimate. She threw a tantrum and disappeared. He stopped the entire wedding ceremony and searched every corner of the venue just to find her. This time was no different.

“Adrian, since you think I’m so childish, let’s get divorced!” “What did you say?” His tone was incredulous with a hint of mockery. “Sign the papers. Divorce. Isn’t Jessica pregnant with your child? She can legitimately become a mother!” I pulled out the divorce agreement I’d written in the hospital. “Clara, stop making a scene. How could Jessica be pregnant with my child!” Seeing my unwavering stance, he actually laughed. “Clara, you really want a divorce? Have you forgotten what your father told you?” He actually had the nerve to bring up my father! If Dad hadn’t been targeted by loan sharks back then, there’s no way Adrian would have gotten that funding from my father. There’s no way Adrian could have made a comeback and achieved his business success today. Back then, with his status, he never could have married me. It was Dad who asked Adrian to take me away from Harbor City, saying not to come back unless there was an emergency. So for these five years, no matter what trouble I encountered, I never went back. I obediently stayed by Adrian’s side, playing the role of his good wife. He knew this, which is why he was so unrestrained with me. Seeing no reaction from me, Adrian perked up. “Besides, even if you don’t think about yourself, you have to think about the baby in your belly. Following you around from place to place—would that be a good life?” Finally, he tore up my divorce agreement piece by piece. “So forget about divorce. Just be Mrs. Adrian and live carefree. Isn’t that nice?” “Fine!” I looked at Jessica without emotion. Her face looked terrible. She threw another tantrum for Adrian to comfort. I silently picked up those paper scraps and threw them in the trash. I knew Adrian too well. He would never sign this divorce agreement. So I stopped trying to get Adrian to agree to divorce. He thought I’d given up and let his guard down. While he was away on business, I hesitated for a long time before finally calling Dad. “Dad, your daughter’s in trouble. She really wants to come home.” In that instant, emotions I’d suppressed for so long finally poured out. I didn’t tell him what happened. He just said with infinite regret that he’d pick me up at the airport. I took one last look at this city I’d lived in for five years and entered the boarding gate.

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My boyfriend, Leo, bailed on my birthday dinner again—this time for his assistant, Chloe. That same day, I quietly submitted an application for a three-year international secondment. He happened to see my application form, but just smirked indifferently. “Trying to get jealous again with these childish tricks? Can you stop being so immature?” He tore up the application, then acted like he was doing me a huge favor by offering to take wedding photos to “make it right.” But it was too late. By the day of the photoshoot, I was already on a plane out of the country. Apparently, the usually calm and composed Leo went completely berserk, wearing his groom’s suit at the airport, frantically calling out my name over and over. “Anya, I can’t believe you’d pull such a childish prank. If Sarah from HR hadn’t clued me in, I might’ve actually bought into this.” “Don’t you get it? People who really want to leave don’t make a big production out of it.” Leo scoffed, ripping the international secondment application into pieces and tossing it in the trash without a second thought. I just stayed quiet, feeling this weird sense of calm wash over me. Tearing it up didn’t matter—the position was already confirmed. He’d actually signed off on it himself just last night. But he was probably too busy having dinner with his assistant, Chloe, to even notice. After all, when he’s with Chloe, she’s the only one who exists. Sarah meant well, I guess—probably thought she was helping by telling him. He thought I was using this as some kind of threat, but he couldn’t have been more wrong. I’d stayed in this city all these years because he wanted me to, passing up countless international opportunities. Now that his heart clearly belonged to someone else, I wasn’t about to just stick around, wasting away beside him anymore. I was about to say something when there was a knock at the front door. Leo didn’t even look at me, just turned to answer it. “Leo.” Chloe stood in the doorway, smiling sweetly as she greeted him. Her gaze shifted to me, and her smile got even sweeter: “Oh, Anya’s here too. My mistake—I wouldn’t have come up if I’d known. Don’t want Anya getting the wrong idea again.” Her tone sounded sincere, but I could still pick up that unmistakable hint of provocation in her words. Right—in the past, after catching him in inappropriate situations with her, I’d argued with him nonstop. But every time, he’d brush me off and keep doing whatever he wanted. The worst was when he spent the night at her place. I couldn’t help confronting him, but Leo slapped me, called me delusional, and made me apologize to both of them in front of everyone. That was the last straw. I finally gave up and stopped caring—but he and Chloe just thought I’d finally learned my lesson, like my previous reactions were just some silly rebellious phase I’d grown out of. I tuned them out and turned to head back to my room. But Leo—unusually—stopped me, his voice lower: “Chloe’s parents are visiting in a few days. She’s worried her apartment’s too small and might make them anxious, so I’m helping her fix it up.” “You know how these young girls are—they can’t really handle things on their own. I just try to help out when I can.” I was a little taken aback. It hit me then, a little late, that Leo was actually *explaining* himself to me. He never used to do that. Back then, I’d have to badger him for answers, only to get eye rolls and attitude in return. But now? I couldn’t care less what they did. “Oh,” I said with a shrug. I almost told him to be careful, but figured he wouldn’t appreciate the advice, so I bit back the words. “Anya, why don’t you come with us? That way you won’t have to worry,” Chloe suggested, her voice dripping with sweetness. I looked at her sugary smile and knew she was doing it on purpose. She’d pulled this move before, and every time it just made Leo more annoyed with me. Even though I didn’t give a damn what Leo thought anymore, I was leaving soon and didn’t feel like dealing with the drama. I was about to say no when, surprisingly, Leo hesitated for a second and then nodded. Chloe’s smile faltered for a split second before she fixed it back in place. Leo said, “Yeah, that works. You can help carry stuff—we’re getting so much, Chloe can’t handle it alone.” I couldn’t help but find it funny—the predictable “of course” moment playing out in my head. “No thanks. I’ve got plans. You two go ahead,” I replied flatly, no emotion in my voice. Leo didn’t care. He gave me a dismissive look, muttered, “Offering you a chance, but you’re just being difficult,” and left with Chloe. Chloe had this triumphant little smirk on her face. As they left, she even waved: “Anya, I’ll be keeping Leo busy for a while!” Her words were obviously meant to get under my skin. But Leo didn’t seem to notice, casually slinging his arm around Chloe’s shoulders like it was the most natural thing. He joked around with her, asking how she planned to treat him to dinner after all his help. Their little display of affection didn’t even register with me anymore. I’d seen this coming ever since Chloe first joined the company. Leo bent all the rules to hire her, then made her his assistant. For two years, she messed up constantly, costing the company millions—but every single time, Leo pointed the blame straight at me. I finally snapped and argued with him, but he just made excuses. “Anya, can’t you see she’s just like you were when you started out?” “You worked so hard to get where you are now. Shouldn’t you help a young talent with so much potential?” That’s when I realized—anything I said after that wouldn’t matter. Leo had already checked out of our relationship. Ding. My phone buzzed. I opened it to a message from HR. [International secondment roster confirmed. Please report as scheduled in three days.]

The message included a list of important instructions. I read through them carefully, then started packing up my apartment. I pulled out my custom guitar—stashed away for years—and strummed it. Still in perfect tune. Leo knew how much music meant to me; it’s how we first connected. Back then, I’d play his favorite songs for him, and we’d travel together. But as time went on, life got busy and stressful. Leo stopped enjoying my playing, so I put the guitar away and focused on work. Later, when things got more comfortable financially, he just kept pulling further away from me. I once suggested we take a trip together, and he got all annoyed. “Anya, how old are you? Can you stop acting like a kid? Why don’t you focus on your career?” But then I found out he and Chloe were using business trips as excuses to hit up arcades, play games at internet cafes, and take scenic boat rides. So it wasn’t that he thought we were too old for fun. He just thought I was too old for his fun. I dug out all my old instruments and called a friend who’d always wanted them. When he heard I was giving them to him, he sounded shocked: “For real? I offered you good money before and you wouldn’t sell. What changed your mind?” I kept it simple: “I’m moving abroad. Can’t take them with me.” “Abroad?” He sounded surprised. “With Leo?” “No, just me.” I told him about the international secondment briefly. He still seemed confused, but finally suggested we get dinner to catch up. I said sure. After we hung up, I kept packing. The photo wall Leo always wanted to take down, the silly pottery we made together that he called childish, the two-seater couch, our matching rings… Before I knew it, it was evening. Leo still wasn’t home. I didn’t do the usual—making dinner and waiting, wondering when he’d walk through the door. Instead, I grabbed my bag and headed out to meet my friend. There were three or four of us—we hadn’t seen each other in almost a year, so they were pretty surprised to see me. “Have you lost weight? You look skinnier than the last time I saw you.” I smiled and didn’t say anything. After a few drinks, everyone was feeling tipsy and talking freely. When my upcoming move came up, one of my drunk friends got really worked up on my behalf. “Anya, I’ve been wanting to say this forever—you should’ve left Leo ages ago! Look at you now, he’s totally messed you up!” “If he hadn’t stolen your research, you’d be way more successful than you are now. He wouldn’t even have a job at your company! All these years, your friends tried to tell you, but you just wouldn’t listen.” The others tried to hush him up quickly. “He’s had too much to drink—don’t take it personally,” one friend said, covering his mouth. I knew why he was reacting like that. After all, the old me would’ve defended Leo no matter what. We’d drifted apart because they once confronted Leo in front of me. Back then, I got mad and stormed off because I didn’t believe them. But that incident was actually what made me realize—suddenly—how Leo had been manipulating me all along. “It’s fine. Leo and I are breaking up anyway.” When I said that, everyone looked shocked. I raised my glass: “Thanks for trying to warn me. I’ll drink to that first.” My friends were worried I was heartbroken and tried to comfort me at first, but they relaxed when they saw how calm I was. After we said goodbye, I went home. I took out my key and was about to unlock the door when it opened from the inside. Leo was standing in the doorway, leaning against the wall, his tall frame rigid. He looked a little upset.

“You went out drinking?” “I called you so many times—why didn’t you answer?” I pulled out my phone and saw he had indeed called repeatedly. The restaurant must have been too loud for me to hear. I told him the truth. His expression softened slightly, though he still looked annoyed. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting?” “Get in here and make me something to eat. I’m starving.” I was a little surprised. In the past, whenever he went out with Chloe, he’d tell me to wait up, but they’d always end up eating out. I’d wait until late, my carefully made dinner getting cold, then reheated, then cold again. Eating that cold food alone, my heart would grow colder too. But when I complained, he’d get annoyed: “Why are you even waiting? I’m not a kid—I can feed myself.” Snapping back to the present, I smiled: “You’re not a kid, Leo. If you’re hungry, fend for yourself.” “If I have to fend for myself, what good are you?” Leo scoffed. But maybe he was in a good mood from his afternoon, because he let it go. “Fine, since you’ve been drinking, I won’t make you cook a whole meal.” “Just make some of that soothing porridge.” “Chloe’s stomach is acting up again. The medicine isn’t helping, and I remember that porridge you used to make worked really well. Make some now.” That’s when it hit me—why he’d actually come home. He used to have a sensitive stomach, so I took a special class to learn how to make that soothing porridge. I even researched ways to improve the texture and flavor to make it more appetizing for him. I learned it to take care of *him*, not to be some free cook making porridge for another woman. I couldn’t help but scoff: “I can’t do that.” “If she’s sick, she should see a doctor. What if something happens after she eats it? Who’s going to take the blame then?” I used to pack Leo’s lunch every day, but then he started sharing it with Chloe. One afternoon, Chloe felt sick—obviously from staying up too late—but Leo blamed me. He said my food wasn’t clean and docked my bonus to compensate her, citing some work mistake. Leo must have remembered that incident too, because he looked a little awkward. He started to say something else, but I walked past him straight into the bedroom. Leo followed right behind: “Anya, come on. Are you still mad about earlier with Chloe?” “Just say what’s bothering you. Why are you being so difficult?” It was always the same. When he couldn’t argue his way out, he’d accuse me of overreacting and refusing to communicate. But I’d tried to talk to him seriously so many times, and every time he’d get mad, call me unreasonable, and shut down the conversation. As he tried to follow me into the room, I locked the door. That really set Leo off—he started banging on the door. I ignored him, got ready for bed, and went to sleep. I woke up in the middle of the night thirsty. When I got up for water, I noticed my phone light up. I checked it and saw Chloe had sent me some messages. [Anya, Leo’s at my place right now. My stomach was acting up, so he came over to take care of me.] There were a few photos attached. The background was Chloe’s apartment. Leo was in loungewear with an apron on, standing in her kitchen, looking totally focused. That’s when I realized Leo hadn’t stayed home—he’d gone to take care of Chloe in the middle of the night. I used to wait on him hand and foot, never letting him lift a finger in the kitchen, and now he was doing all that for another woman. I almost laughed. I knew Chloe sent those messages to get a rise out of me. She’d done this kind of thing a million times before. But it didn’t matter anymore. In two days, I’d be out of their lives for good. I turned off my phone and went back to sleep, dozing off right away. The next morning, Leo was home. He was sitting on the couch with his tablet, looking worn out from pulling an all-nighter. He used to look like this after staying up late chatting with Chloe, and I’d worry about him automatically—only for him to get mad and say I was starting fights. I wasn’t in the mood for his attitude, so I pretended not to notice. After getting ready, I gave him a half-hearted good morning. He seemed distracted though, muttering to himself: “Why does the house feel… empty?” I didn’t say a word. All the stuff I’d gotten rid of was things he’d never cared about anyway. He could feel something was off, but he couldn’t put his finger on what. I ignored him and started to head out when Leo called after me. “Anya, why is there a plane ticket charge on our joint account?” That’s when it clicked. I was still logged into the home tablet, so he could see my recent purchases. I paused, about to answer, when his phone rang. Leo checked the caller ID and his face lit up. He got up and went into the bedroom to take the call. He completely forgot about confronting me. I scoffed to myself—same old story. A few minutes later, he hung up and came out of the bedroom, grabbing his jacket from the hook. He ordered me: “Chloe’s parents are in town. I need to pick them up. Call the office and tell them we’re taking the day off.” I smiled: “I’m not going to the office today. I’m leaving for my international secondment tomorrow—that ticket is for my flight.”

At that, Leo froze while tying his shoe. After a second, he seemed to snap out of it and burst out laughing. “What kind of joke is this? I already tore up your application—there is no secondment.” I started to explain, but Leo’s tone turned icy. “Anya, I know what you’re doing. One little stunt was bad enough, but now you’re doubling down? I’m not going to put up with this.” “I have to admit, you went all out this time—buying a real plane ticket to trick me.” I didn’t say anything. He couldn’t wrap his head around the idea that I might actually leave him, so no amount of proof would change his mind. So why waste my time trying? But my silence just made Leo think he was right—like I’d been caught red-handed. That just made him more sure I was faking it to get attention. He let out a cold snort, grabbed his bag, and headed for the door. He took a few steps, then stopped like he just remembered something. He turned back to me with a sigh, like I was being unreasonable. “Anya, I get why you’re acting like this, but I really have to go. I promised Chloe two days ago—I can’t cancel on her now.” “After today, I’ll cut back on time with her, I promise.” “You want to get married, right? Once this is over, we’ll book the wedding photos tomorrow. We can start planning everything, okay?” As he talked, he reached out to pat my head. Like I was some obedient little pet. It was almost funny. He said he couldn’t break a promise, but he’d stood me up countless times for Chloe—left me waiting alone more times than I could count. He said he’d cut back on time with her, but we’d made that deal before. He broke it every single time. His go-to move was always promising wedding photos. I fell for it every time. And got disappointed every time. He thought this little game—hurting me, then dangling something nice—would work forever. But he didn’t get that it only worked because I still cared. Now that I didn’t love him anymore, all those promises just sounded ridiculous. But I didn’t call him out. I just nodded: “Okay.” Leo looked satisfied, a big smile spreading across his face. “Stay home and be good. I’ll book the appointment now—we’ll do the wedding photos tomorrow.” With that, he headed downstairs. I watched him round the corner, then went back to my room and started throwing all my leftover things down the trash chute. Soon the room was so empty, it was like I’d never lived there. As soon as Leo got home, he’d figure it out. But he didn’t come home. All night, Leo texted me photos: selfies with Chloe and her parents,landscape photo, and pictures of the restaurant where they were eating. He even mentioned some places had great backdrops for wedding photos. I had no idea what he was playing at. But I played along anyway. It was the last time, after all. I’d probably never talk to him again after this. The next morning, I texted Leo to get some rest, then grabbed my suitcase and took a taxi to the airport. Right before boarding, the wedding photography studio called to confirm our session. I hadn’t expected Leo to actually follow through. But I didn’t care anymore. “I’m sorry, but we need to cancel.” I apologized and hung up. I took one last look at the city I’d called home for five years. This time, I didn’t hesitate—I walked straight onto the jet bridge. Leo and I were done. I couldn’t help wondering what his face would look like when he realized *he* was the one getting stood up.

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Jillian planted 9,999 roses herself to propose to me. When the 9,999th rose finally bloomed, I was moved. On our first day of marriage, I prepared 99 reconciliation coupons. We agreed: whenever she made me angry, she could use one coupon to make amends. Over seven years of marriage, every time she upset me over childhood friend matters, she would hand me a coupon. It wasn’t until the 97th card that Jillian noticed something had changed. I stopped nagging her to be careful or acting like I needed her. I just grabbed her arm when she left me for her childhood friend again and asked, “If you go to him, can I use a card to cancel that decision?” Jillian hesitated for a moment, then looked at me with a helpless sigh. “Go ahead and use it. There’s still plenty left anyway.” I nodded quietly, watching her walk away. She still thought those cards were infinite, that she could keep using them forever. But she had no idea, there are only two remained. Today was the gala for our company’s biggest client. It was also exactly one week after my appendectomy. Jillian’s childhood friend Jason spilled red wine on the client’s CEO. Jillian’s first concern was checking if Jason was okay. Then she turned to me. “Liam, go apologize to Mr. Johnson.” I stared at her in shock. The CEO was dabbing at his suit, clearly furious. “So your company likes dodging responsibility, huh? The one who should apologize is hiding.” Jason’s eyes watered as he leaned on Jillian’s shoulder, acting like he was the one who’d been wronged. Jillian put her hand on his shoulder and fixed me with a serious look. “Why aren’t you apologizing? What are you standing there for?” “Go toast with Mr. Johnson. We can’t let this partnership fall through, no matter what!” She forgot I was still recovering from surgery and strictly forbidden from drinking alcohol. Or maybe she just didn’t care about my health at all. Jason smirked at me with provocation in his eyes. He’d known all along Jillian would push me to take the fall. He also knew Jillian would always protect him, never letting him face the consequences. I wasn’t about to take the blame for his mistake, but Jillian suddenly leaned in and whispered: “One Get Out of Jail Free card.” To marry me, she’d planted those 9,999 roses herself. Each one was supposed to prove her devotion. When the last rose bloomed, I said yes at our engagement party surrounded by family and friends. That’s when she promised: “Liam, you’re the love of my life! If I ever betray you, I swear…” I covered her mouth before she could finish. Watching her make that vow among the flowers, I was completely captivated. Wanting to match her gesture, I had a friend design 99 Get Out of Jail Free cards. I told her, “When these run out, I’m gone for good!” In the early years of our marriage, Jillian guarded those cards like they were gold, terrified I’d cash one in during an argument. But after her childhood friend moved back from overseas, she burned through 97 of them in just one year. This was the 97th. I bent slightly, wincing from the pain in my abdomen as I addressed the CEO. “Mr. Johnson, I sincerely apologize for what happened.” The CEO glanced at me, shaking his head with a sigh—no real hard feelings. As I bowed, I caught Jillian straightening Jason’s collar. “Be more careful next time. What if you’d hit a table corner and gotten hurt?” “Got it, Jill. You always look out for me.” “Always?” Pain spread from my surgical incision, draining the color from my face. Just a little longer. She had two chances left.

After the party, all I wanted was to head straight home, but there was Jillian standing with Jason—they looked like the picture-perfect couple. She turned to me with a cold expression. “Liam, you’ll have to grab a cab back. Jason twisted his ankle; I need to get him to urgent care first.” It was like she’d completely forgotten I was hurt too. Her eyes were filled with worry—for Jason. Back in the day, I would’ve probably gone on about how much pain I was in, begging her to take me to the ER too. I would’ve cried, asking why I had to apologize when I hadn’t done anything wrong. But now, I just nodded quietly. “Sure.” Jillian visibly relaxed, her expression softening slightly. “Liam, be careful getting home alone.” No sooner had she spoken than Jason stepped forward and took her arm. “Jill, my ankle’s killing me. Can we please hurry?” Jillian’s blazer was draped over his shoulders, and he was practically leaning his full weight on her. She didn’t spare me a second glance—even though I was pale and in pain myself. She just helped him to the car and got him settled in the passenger seat. “Stay still, don’t jostle it.” It wasn’t until she’d gotten him settled and was about to drive off that she finally looked over at me standing on the side. “We’ve known each other since we were kids, Liam. He’s basically family. Just head on home.” I managed a faint, bitter smile. “Right. Family.” Afraid she’d think I was mad, I quickly added, “You already used one of our get-out-of-jail-free cards. I’m fine.” Jillian hesitated, as if she wanted to say something. Jason let out an overdramatic groan, and she immediately turned back to him. “We’re leaving now.” With that, Jillian drove off, leaving me standing alone at the hotel entrance. I pulled my jacket tighter against the chill. Once home, I grabbed the reconciliation vouchers from the side table. The stack Jillian used to keep locked safely in a safe now just sat there casually. I stamped the 97th voucher, then pulled out the divorce papers I’d prepared earlier. Having trouble finding a lawyer, I decided to call my old professor. “Professor Hayes, if I’m looking to get divorced, do you have any lawyer recommendations?” Professor Hayes sounded shocked. “Divorce? You? Who’s getting divorced here?” “I remember you two were the campus sweethearts. It’s only been a few years. What happened?” Professor Hayes had even witnessed our proposal. How did we ever get here? There’s no going back now. From the first time she chose others over me. From all the inside jokes she shared with Jason—jokes I couldn’t even join in on. From the nights she stayed out with Jason instead of coming home. A third wheel always spells the end for a relationship. We’d grown too far apart. There was no fixing this. Professor Hayes sighed. “Leave this with me. I’ll have someone reach out soon. Just tell them what you need.” I stared at the last two vouchers in my hand and said slowly, “Okay, thanks Professor.” Jillian walked in just then. “Who were you talking to? Professor Hayes?” She was carrying a shopping bag, which she set on the table. I hung up and turned to her. “Nothing important, just asking about something.” Jillian frowned, eyeing me suspiciously. “What kind of questions? At this hour?” I furrowed my brow. “Nothing important, just some lab data.” She finally sat on the couch and pushed the bag toward me. “Here, this is for you.” The bag was from my favorite French patisserie. Jillian used to bring me desserts from there all the time. That place was always packed—lines out the door daily. She’d wake up early and wait for hours, just because I mentioned wanting to try it once. I never wanted her going through all that hassle. But she’d just kiss my forehead and smile. “If you want it, I’ll get it myself. Even if you wanted the stars, I’d find a way to grab ’em for you.” We really did have some great memories, back in the day. “How did you… What’s this?” I opened the bag. No desserts inside—definitely not what I was expecting. Just a stained shirt and a crumpled bedsheet. I looked at Jillian. She shifted uncomfortably under my stare. “Jason’s clothes got dirty, and the bedsheet has a bad stain. He hurt his hand, so he can’t get it wet. I thought I’d bring them home and ask you to take care of it.” The more she talked, the more defensive she sounded. Her expression hardened. “Don’t be so difficult, Liam. You’re both guys—you get it. If it’s too much trouble, just use another get-out-of-jail-free card.” I couldn’t even find the words to respond. I’d just had surgery myself and couldn’t overdo it, but she didn’t seem to remember that at all. And there she went again, bringing up those stupid vouchers. Only one left. But with that indifferent look on her face, I bit back my objections. Jason’s clothes were expensive tailored suits—each piece needed special care. Looking back, I’d been so naive. All that so-called “thoughtful care” I prided myself on? Honestly, it would’ve been easier to just take them to the dry cleaner.

I left the shirt and sheets by the door to take to the cleaners tomorrow, then headed back to our bedroom. Jillian looked up, smiling when she saw me. “My amazing husband, you took care of that so quickly! That’s Jason’s favorite shirt—make sure it gets perfectly cleaned.” I nodded and reached for my face mask. I also grabbed the iPad from the nightstand to watch something. Jillian was typing furiously on her phone, clearly texting someone. A notification popped up on my iPad. I tapped it and realized Jillian’s iMessages were syncing to my device. “Jill, you’re the best shopper! I haven’t had real desserts like these in forever.” “That place always has such a long line. You must have gone through so much trouble.” Jillian glanced at me, then kept typing. “Glad you liked them. I’ll pick up more next time.” “What can I say? You’re the best little sister!” Jason replied right away: “What about my sheets? Is it really okay to make Liam clean those stains? If he minds, don’t worry about it.” Jillian smiled, looking completely smitten. “It’s fine. Stubborn stains need special treatment, and I can’t stand the thought of you doing it. He’s used to handling this stuff.” I froze, staring at Jillian. Since we got married, I’d handled every chore around the house—from changing lightbulbs to fixing leaky pipes. No wonder she thought I was “used to it.” I set the iPad down, unable to read another word of their conversation. After I washed off my mask, Jillian suddenly leaned in and whispered: “Liam, Jason needs me for something. You get some rest.” I curled up in bed and mumbled a response. As she put on her jacket, I asked quietly: “Jillian, if you don’t come home tonight, I’m using another Get Out of Jail Free card, okay?” I looked at her, my voice cracking with sadness. She didn’t even pause while adjusting her collar. She smiled like always: “Go ahead and use it.” Jillian brushed her hair back, completely unbothered. “I’ll be back soon. You probably won’t even need to use that card today!” Watching her casual attitude, I looked away coldly. “Okay.” It was 10 PM. She’d said she’d be back soon. I ordered my favorite dessert from that bakery using a delivery app. Meanwhile, Jason posted on Instagram, celebrating a date with his girlfriend. Right then, Jillian texted me: “Found Jason. Heading back soon.” It was almost midnight. I pulled up an old post on my phone—the one I made after accepting Jillian’s proposal. I hit “share” to my story. “Time really flies.” Jillian commented with a heart emoji. Then she sent me a photo of an office desk. “Still at work. Miss you.” I closed our chat. I didn’t bother replying. She must have forgotten I took that photo with her phone last month. It wasn’t even taken today. She was lying to me and trying to pacify me at the same time. Jason posted another update, like he was sending me a message: “You promised we’d get married when we grew up. You broke that promise, but said you regretted it.” In the photo, their hands were clasped together—Jillian’s small mole on her index finger was clearly visible. I sat on the couch, watching the proposal video Jillian had made while eating the dessert I’d ordered. The dessert I used to love tasted empty, flavorless. Maybe I didn’t like it anymore. And it wasn’t just the dessert I’d fallen out of love with. Jillian didn’t send any more messages. I put my phone on the coffee table and started packing my things. It was past midnight. I was about to use the last Get Out of Jail Free card. My phone suddenly rang. It was Jillian. “Liam, are you asleep? Don’t wait up. Something came up, and I won’t be home tonight.” “Go ahead and use the card. I’ll bring you dessert tomorrow. I’m busy here, gotta go.” Jillian hung up before I could respond. The dial tone brought me back to reality. As I put my phone back on the coffee table, I knocked over a cup. The custom mug we’d made together after getting engaged shattered into pieces. Maybe it was a sign our relationship should end cleanly too. I opened my messages and found Jillian’s chat. “I didn’t get to tell you earlier, but the Get Out of Jail Free cards are all used up.” “Let’s get a divorce.” My phone immediately started blowing up with calls.

I didn’t answer or reply. I put it on silent and let it buzz beside me. And just like that, our relationship was completely over. At Jason’s apartment, Jillian panicked when she saw that message. She bombarded me with calls and texts. “What are you talking about? There should still be plenty of cards left! Stop being dramatic, okay?” “Is this because I wasn’t home? I’ll explain everything when I get back.” “Why aren’t you answering! Liam, even if you’re mad, you can’t do this.” “Answer the phone! I’m serious!” She couldn’t believe I would just leave like that, sending message after message. After countless calls and texts, dread settled in Jillian’s chest. “How could this happen… We agreed not to fight about this. Why isn’t he answering…” She started remembering how I’d seemed distant every time I used a card. Things that should have made me angry got no reaction at all. Realizing she was losing control, Jillian kept calling as she headed for the door. Jason suddenly wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, pressing his face against her back. “Jill, where are you going? You promised to spend the whole day with me.” Jillian pried his arms off, pushed him away, and ran out the door. She sped home, ignoring the speed limits. When she opened the front door, everything looked normal—but she still couldn’t relax. Walking further in, she saw ceramic shards scattered across the floor. She knelt down and picked one up— It was our custom mug. The mug lay shattered, our faces on it broken beyond recognition. She gathered the pieces, then stood up and pushed open the bedroom door to find me. It wasn’t until she saw all my things were gone that reality finally hit her. Jillian sat on the bed, staring at the empty room, completely lost. The iPad’s lock screen was our photo. She reached out, wanting to touch it. She wondered where I could have gone. Where else did I have to go after leaving here? She kept searching, and her eyes landed on something on the table. They were the Get Out of Jail Free cards I’d made—every single one stamped. Her hands shaking, she spread the stack of cards across the table. She tried to rub off the red stamps, but they wouldn’t budge. She counted them—all 99 of them. Jillian remembered our wedding day, when she’d confidently told me: “Liam, I’ll never use a single one of these! I’ll love you forever.” Another memory flashed—her standing next to Jason, impatiently telling me to use a card. Years of love, carelessly thrown away in the year Jason came back. She who once hated seeing me upset had used those cards recklessly, never thinking twice. Every time, she’d used this shortcut to get my forgiveness, then tossed me some gifts as so-called compensation. She never thought our relationship would actually have problems. After all, every time she used a Get Out of Jail Free card, she’d still symbolically buy me something. She saw it as compensation for me and a reward for my “not making a fuss.” With that thought, she opened my closet. Inside, neatly arranged, were all the things she’d given me. I hadn’t taken a single one. A few duplicate shirts, an unworn watch. She thought of the gifts she’d given Jason—she always knew he loved a certain brand of limited edition sneakers. So she’d pre-ordered every new seasonal release and had them delivered to his apartment. Those sneakers cost a fortune, each pair. They were nothing like these thoughtless, generic gifts she’d given me. Seeing it all clearly, Jillian fell silent. How had our once passionate love become so careless? She sat on the couch, unable to sleep all night, slowly piecing together how we’d gotten here. The next day, as soon as Jillian got to the office, Jason followed her in. “Jill, rough night? Here’s your coffee. And this is the new partnership proposal.” Jason set the coffee on her desk and reached to massage her shoulders. She used to love feeling needed like that. But thinking about my leaving, her expression darkened even more. She dodged his hand, pushed the coffee aside, and started looking at the proposal on her desk. As she read through it, she realized it was completely unfocused. It was unreadable—a total mess. If this went to a client, we’d not only lose the partnership but tank the company’s reputation too. Jillian set the proposal down, silent for a moment before speaking: “Who wrote this? How dare they hand me something like this?” “Where’s Liam? Didn’t he review this?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “343221”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #擦边Steamy #重生Reborn