1 My college roommate, the one who used to swear she would never marry, suddenly blew up our old dorm group chat. “I’m in love! He’s so handsome and so gentle.” “He transferred five figures to me on Valentine’s Day.” “I used to think being single was great. Now I finally know what it feels like to be spoiled. Try not to be too jealous.” “Celine, your family is better off than all of ours. Why are you still single? Maybe reflect on yourself a little. @Celine.” “Too proud. Nobody wants that. @Celine.” “Dinner’s on me tonight. I’ll introduce you to my boyfriend.” The words I’m winning practically slapped me through the screen. The other two roommates and I endured the discomfort and went anyway. The moment I saw his face, I nearly dropped my glass. Wasn’t this my freeloading ex-boyfriend? The man sat across from me, his eyes sticky and unpleasant as they glued themselves to my face. Monica noticed nothing. She pressed herself against his arm, her voice full of undisguised pride. “This is Noah Price. He was one year ahead of us. My boyfriend.” Then she turned to him. “These three were my college roommates. My best friends.” Lana curled her lip. I quietly kicked her under the table. Back then, during late-night dorm talks, Monica used to slap her bed and declare, “Men are nothing but speed bumps.” Now, seeing her shy little smile, it was better to let that sentence rot in our stomachs. I pretended to drink water and avoided Noah’s gaze. He had been one year ahead of us and vice president of the student council. Refined looks, gentle voice, always polite. When I joined the student council as a sophomore, he took special care of me. One thing led to another, and we started dating. But he insisted on keeping it secret. His reason was that we were both in the student council. If people found out, they would gossip and affect our work. At the time, I thought it made sense, so I agreed to a secret relationship. It took me a year to see the calculating face beneath that gentlemanly skin. Whenever we went out to eat, he disappeared at the bill. After I paid, he would hold my hand with guilt in his eyes. “Baby, I made you spend again. You know my family’s situation. Don’t worry. I’ll work hard and pay you back double someday.” I would smile and say, “I believe you.” On the third day of dating, he told me everything. Sick parents, no jobs, younger siblings to raise, tuition paid by loans. My family was well-off, and because I cared about his fragile pride, I never showed the slightest superiority. Whenever I had no classes, I accompanied him to part-time jobs. Gradually, he worked less and less. His demands grew more and more. He no longer saved money on food or daily expenses either. Once, he ordered me to buy him a pair of limited-edition sneakers worth eight thousand dollars. I refused. He gave me the cold shoulder for a whole month because of it. During that time, I got sick and had a fever. He did not even show his face. I was done serving him. I broke up, blocked him, and moved on. The next day, he cornered me and demanded to know what I meant. “You can’t read plain language?” He exhaled hard, pointed at my nose, and cursed. “Celine Hart, what’s so great about you? You were just born into a good family. Who are you showing off to? You want to break up? Don’t regret it.” Seeing him lose his composure only made me more certain I had done the right thing. A year and a half of feelings went down the drain. Later, Noah graduated and got a job assignment, disappearing completely from my life. Never in my dreams did I think our reunion would happen like this. Monica was still talking, smiling like she could barely contain herself. She said she added Noah through an alumni group and took the initiative to chat with him. She even confessed that she had secretly liked him back in college but had been too shy to say it. They had been dating for half a year. Noah used to be in Bayside, thousands of miles away, so even seeing each other once had been a luxury. Recently, Noah sent his resume to companies in Hartwell City. Yesterday, he received an offer, so he dragged his suitcase here in a rush. Monica leaned on his shoulder, face full of sweetness. “He didn’t even tell me he resigned. He said he wanted to surprise me. It made me so embarrassed.” From the corner of my eye, I saw that Noah’s face held no joy at all. Lana looked at me, then at Jade beside her, and clicked her tongue. “So which company in Hartwell hired you, Noah?” “Hartwell Group,” Noah said calmly, though his pride was hard to hide. “Hartwell? Isn’t that…” Lana turned to me. “Isn’t that where Celine interns?” My heart tightened. I nodded without speaking. Lana and I were closest. We often chatted privately, so she was the only one who knew I was interning at Hartwell Group. Monica said in surprise, “What a coincidence. Noah is applying as a sales supervisor. For my sake, make sure he takes good care of you at work.” Then she looked up at Noah. “Right, babe?” Noah looked at me and said coldly, “Of course.” I lifted my glass to hide my unease. They did not know that my internship at Hartwell Group was under the identity of the chairman’s daughter. The entire company would be mine someday. And Noah said he would take care of me? The dinner finally ended. Jade and Lana had come by taxi. They were interning in a neighboring city. A black Mercedes slowly stopped in front of the hotel, temporary license plate still attached. Monica got out from the passenger seat and took the initiative to call them a ride. Jade and Lana stared at the car for a few seconds, then looked at Monica in unison. Monica smiled shyly. “Oh, stop. Noah just picked it up yesterday. He said it’ll be easier to drive me to and from work. I told him not to buy it, but he wouldn’t listen.” After saying that, she glanced at me. I played along. “Nice car. Your boyfriend treats you so well.” She covered her mouth and laughed so hard she trembled. The driver’s window rolled halfway down. I saw Noah’s lips curve faintly. The rideshare arrived quickly, and we watched Jade and Lana leave. Monica looked at me, alone now, and asked with a smile where I lived. She said she and Noah could drive me. I frowned and waved her off. “No need. I checked. There’s a subway nearby. I’ll go myself. You two go ahead.” Monica shrugged. “All right, then. We’re leaving.” Noah silently rolled up the window. Monica climbed into the passenger seat with tiny quick steps. The car drove off. Once it disappeared from view, I made a call. Five seconds later, a black Rolls-Royce Phantom pulled up steadily in front of me. The driver stepped out and respectfully opened the door. “Miss Hart, please.” The car rolled over the marks left by the Mercedes and drove forward. When I got home, my father was in the study handling documents. I leaned against the door and asked, “Dad, the company hired a new sales supervisor. Why didn’t I hear about it?” Dad put down the file and smiled at me. “Your news travels fast. It was decided temporarily. I was going to tell you tonight.” “Why that Noah Price?” I asked directly. He took a sip of tea and set the cup down. “I saw his resume. His sales performance is outstanding, and the company happens to have an opening for a sales supervisor. Three-month probation first.” “So he hasn’t been officially hired yet?” My tone brightened. Dad narrowed his eyes, sensing something. “You know him?” “He was one year above me in college. We worked together in student council.” I answered casually. I had never told my parents a word about dating him in college. Since it ended badly, there was even less reason to mention it. Dad nodded thoughtfully. “That’s good, then. Since you know each other, you can ask him for advice in sales.” I curled my lip. “Ask him?” I turned toward my room, my voice lazy. “Let’s see if he survives probation first.” Noah Price, are you ready for your new job? The next morning, the moment I entered the company, whispers from female employees drifted out with the bitter smell of coffee. The gist was simple. A young, handsome male supervisor had arrived. Was he single? Did they have a chance? I also vaguely heard someone say, “I heard this new supervisor was personally recruited by Secretary Lewis. His background must not be simple.” I assumed it was just a normal personnel transfer and did not think too deeply. This was my third month as an intern, an important stage. Whether I could stay depended entirely on my supervisor’s review. My father often traveled for work and did not care about small things like this. Now that he knew Noah and I were acquainted, he was probably even more at ease. When I joined, I specifically told him not to pull strings. So no one at the company knew who I was. Worried I might struggle in the workplace, Dad told his secretary, Mr. Lewis, to quietly look after me. Uncle Lewis had watched me grow up. Every few days, he came by the department to take a look around, mainly to check on me in secret. I had just reached my desk and pulled out my chair when my coworker, Hannah, came over. “Celine, the supervisor wants you in his office.” I had no choice but to get up and drag myself over impatiently. The moment I entered, Noah stared at me with a half-smile that made goosebumps rise all over my skin. He asked me to sit across from him, then brought over a cup of coffee. I got straight to the point. “What do you want?” He was unhurried, lips curling. His gaze moved over me through his glasses. “We haven’t seen each other for two years. Can’t we catch up?” I rolled my eyes and stood to leave. “Supervisor Price, if it isn’t work-related, I’m leaving.” “Celine.” He suddenly called out. I turned back and met his smug expression. “You broke up with me so willfully back then. Now that I’m sitting in a supervisor’s seat, don’t you regret it?” “I was willful?” Those three words made my chest sour. How had I ever dated such trash? Looking at his self-righteous face, I sneered. “Did you wake up too fast this morning and leave your brain behind?” “The thing I regret most in my life is knowing you and wasting a year and a half while blind and stupid.” He smiled, his tone certain. “You hate me that much? That means I’m still in your heart.” I stepped forward and touched his forehead. “Is your brain broken?” He grabbed my hand. “Worried about me?” I laughed from anger at his logic, pulled my hand away with disgust, and gave him one piece of advice. “Date Monica properly. Fix your selfish, freeloading habits.” Embarrassment flashed across his face. He stiffened his neck. “Celine, you really haven’t changed. Monica is much better than you. Sweet, obedient, listens to me, and is willing to spend money on me. Unlike you…” I clenched my fists and gritted my teeth. “So all the money I spent on you was fed to a dog.” My eyes landed on his wrist. “If you hadn’t mentioned it, I would’ve forgotten. Give me back the watch I bought you.” I reached for it. He dodged, shameless. “Who asks for a gift back after giving it?” My chest tightened. I waved him off. “You’re worse than a dog.” Back at my desk, I pressed a hand to my chest and adjusted my breathing, telling myself not to argue with animals. After calming down, I thought of one thing. Monica was flashy, loved showing off, spoke sharply, and could be two-faced. But at the end of the day, we had lived together for four years. We might not have had deep friendship, but we had been classmates and roommates. Knowing Noah had impure motives, I decided to try pulling her back. I carefully selected a few “dating advice for girls in love” posts and sent them to Monica. The first one was: Love is between two people. Both sides should give and understand each other. Girls must not foolishly give unconditionally. Over time, men will think it’s their due. I thought it might wake her up. I never expected the result that followed. That day made me so angry my lungs nearly burst. Noah kept calling me into his office. If it wasn’t to deliver documents, it was to pick them up. If not that, then to check spreadsheets. Every time, his first sentence was work-related. By the second, he had already twisted it into something personal. I warned him coldly, “Call me in again, and don’t blame me for being rude.” My ears finally got some peace. But my phone remained silent. I thought Monica was probably carefully digesting the advice I had sent. When work ended, I waited until I confirmed Noah had left, then slowly went downstairs. I truly did not want any more connection to him. The moment I stepped out of the elevator, a large hand grabbed my wrist from the side. I struggled free in panic and met Noah’s smiling face. I shouted and shook him off. “Are you insane?” He shrugged, expression mild. “Dinner together?” Looking at his fake-gentleman face, my appetite vanished. I did not want to say a single word and turned to leave. He refused to give up, chasing and tugging at me. Furious, I kicked him, but he rushed forward and locked me in his arms. His voice was sticky as syrup. “It’s just dinner. Is that so impossible?” I struggled desperately, but he held tighter. Then a shout came from ahead. “What are you doing?” Noah’s hands instantly loosened. I quickly broke free. Monica stormed up to me, her voice sharp. “So this is why you sent me those so-called warnings?” In this situation, I had no immediate defense. I glared hard at Noah, then asked Monica, “Since you saw it, what does that prove?” Monica froze. I pointed at Noah. “It proves he’s a bastard. Dumping this kind of scumbag in time is the smart choice.” My tone was sincere. Every word came from the heart. Noah, who had been silent, suddenly interrupted. “What warnings are you talking about?” Monica shoved my message in front of him. The bastard changed direction instantly and bit back. “Celine, I can’t believe you tried so hard to drive us apart. Monica was your roommate. Don’t you think this is too much?” My blood went cold. His ability to frame someone was masterful. With the evidence in front of me, I had no way to defend myself. Ignoring our four years as classmates, Monica grabbed my collar in a rage. “Celine Hart, how did I never realize you were this scheming? Shamelessly seducing my boyfriend?” I pulled her hand away hard, helpless and angry. “I’m trying to help you.” “Help me?” She cut me off and warned in a low voice. “Put away your cheap thoughts. If I catch you deliberately approaching Noah again, don’t blame me for what happens.” I lowered my head and sighed. Out of the corner of my eye, Noah’s expression was dark and unreadable as he stared straight at me. Monica was just like I had been two years ago. Blind and foolish. Maybe this was the easiest mistake for girls in love to make. What else could I say? Anything I said would be wrong. Some mistakes had to be experienced personally, had to hurt deep in the heart, before a person learned. But what she did next nearly cost me half my life. When I returned home in a daze, I ran into my parents carrying luggage toward the door. Mom reminded me gently, “Celine, Dad and I will be away on business for a few days. Take care of yourself.” Dad rubbed my hair. “If anything is difficult at work, ask Uncle Lewis. He’ll help you. We might be busy over the next few days.” Distracted, I nodded and told them to stay safe. After watching the car leave, I walked tiredly toward the second floor. I tossed and turned all night. The next day at the office, I saw Monica. Mr. Lewis introduced the new colleague with a smile, while Monica’s gaze pierced me like a needle. I was confused. How had she been working elsewhere yesterday and suddenly joined Hartwell Group today? After the morning meeting, Monica asserted ownership in the office. “Supervisor Price is my boyfriend. Please take care of us in the future, especially certain people. Don’t think that just because you’re pretty, you can have thoughts you shouldn’t.” Coworkers whispered. Their gazes toward me gained suspicion. I had no desire to argue. I returned to my desk and looked up just in time to see Noah pull Monica into his office. Soon, faint arguing came from inside. Ms. Grant, the team leader, handed me a document with an ordering tone. “You. Go get Supervisor Price’s signature.” I knew she was doing it on purpose. Senior employees bullying new ones was common. Relying on her seniority, she often made trouble for me, though never enough for me to catch her at work. For the bigger picture, I had endured it. As I walked toward the office, I heard her whisper to a coworker behind me. “I hate women who destroy other people’s relationships…” My steps paused, chest tight. Inside the office, Noah sat in his chair with an ugly expression. Monica stood nearby, jaw tight, eyes red. When she saw me, she clenched her teeth. I placed the document in front of Noah. “It needs your signature.” Noah irritably loosened his tie, picked up a pen, and signed. I was eager to leave and reached for the document, but my fingertips accidentally brushed his hand as he pulled back. Monica saw it at the worst possible angle. She rushed forward, snatched the document, and threw it to the floor. “Celine Hart, do you think I’m blind, or do you think I’m stupid?” I was angry and wronged. “It was accidental. I have no interest in Noah.” She grabbed the cup on the desk and splashed water straight into my face. Then she clamped my wrist, staring at me with mockery. “Celine, how did your face grow to look so cheap?” Scalding pain burst across my face. My eyes burned and stung so badly I could barely open them. I tried desperately to break free, but a woman going mad in love was like a wild vine, shockingly strong. My wrist was squeezed red. It hurt so much tears gathered. I turned and shouted at Noah. “Are you dead? Can you say something?” Noah’s lips moved slightly. Only then did the dog of a man slowly stand. “Monica, let go.” “You’re protecting her?” The force on my wrist tightened again. It felt like the bone was about to snap. The commotion was too loud and startled the coworkers outside. Hurried footsteps gathered toward the office door. I shouted for help. The next second, the door opened, and someone rushed in.

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1 “911, what is your emergency?” “My upstairs neighbors… someone is sawing through bone.” “Address, ma’am? We are dispatching units right now.” “Never mind.” “Excuse me?” “The sawing stopped. Now I hear a mop. A soaking wet mop, cleaning up blood.” “Ma’am! Please lock your doors, officers are on the way!” Click. The line went dead. Five minutes later, the cops kicked the upstairs door open. The married couple was sitting calmly at their dining table, gorging on a late night roast. A reciprocating saw rested on the balcony. They had just used it to cut through a frozen rack of venison. Jax wiped greasy barbecue sauce from the corner of his mouth and smirked at the officers. “Let me guess. The crazy bitch downstairs? Is this her eleventh time calling?” The cops packed up and left in sheer frustration. None of them noticed the ceiling of the apartment directly below them. Dozens of black acoustic stethoscopes were taped to the plaster like a cluster of dead insect eyes, absorbing every single vibration from above. Harper pulled off her studio headphones. She picked up a pen and crossed out a single line in her notebook. Test complete. The hunt begins. … The moment the cruisers pulled away, the footsteps upstairs turned vicious. Jax deliberately put on his heavy steel toed work boots. He paced back and forth directly over my bedroom. Every single thud felt like a nail being driven straight into my temples. Thump. Thump. Thump. Each muffled boom was a calculated message of pure mockery. Then came the shouting. The floorboards in this rotting walkup were paper thin. His voice was so crisp he might as well have been screaming right into my ear. “Fucking psycho! Next time you call the cops, I am going to bury you!” I huddled behind my front door. Peering through the peephole, I watched Jax’s face contorting in blind rage. He was kicking my door frame. Dust and chipped paint rained down from the ceiling. I shivered violently. Tears pooled in my eyes. I looked exactly like a terrified, helpless victim. Jax finally got tired of screaming. He spat a thick wad of phlegm onto my welcome mat and stomped back upstairs. From the stairwell, Roxy’s timid voice echoed. “Babe, just drop it. If she is actually schizophrenic…” Smack. A vicious slap cut her off instantly. “Shut your mouth! I don’t need you telling me what to do. Get inside!” A heavy door slammed shut. The stairwell fell back into dead silence. I slowly straightened my spine. I wiped the tears away. The pathetic terror on my face evaporated into thin air. The neurotic trembling stopped entirely. What replaced it was a cold, mechanical stillness. I turned around, walked into my bedroom, and pushed open the hidden door behind my wardrobe. Welcome to my fully enclosed, professional grade soundproof studio. The walls were lined with thick acoustic foam. It was so deathly quiet in here that I could hear my own blood pumping through my veins. On the monitor, a digital waveform was still spiking, mapping out the exact frequency of Jax’s kicks against my door. I slipped on my high end studio monitors. My finger gently nudged the slider on the mixing board. The audio from upstairs was amplified tenfold and pumped directly into my skull. I heard Jax’s heavy, animalistic panting. I heard Roxy’s muffled sobbing. I heard the harsh screech of a wooden chair dragging across linoleum. “Stop crying! One more squeak and I will stitch your mouth shut!” Jax’s roar clipped the audio, turning the waveform violently red. My face remained entirely blank. I stared at the screen, then picked up a massive watermelon I had kept on my desk. My right hand gripped a heavy steel claw hammer. I raised it high. I brought it down with everything I had. Squlech. The melon exploded. Thick red juice splattered all over my face and chest. The sound was heavy, wet, and sickeningly dense. It sounded exactly like a blunt object caving in a human skull. I clicked stop and saved the file. File name: Jax_Skull_V1.0 Looking at the flawless waveform on my screen, a slow smile crept onto my lips. Audio never lies. Only the people listening to it do. 2 Your anger is only hitting forty decibels, Jax. It is far too weak. Tonight, I am going to introduce you to absolute terror. Two in the morning. Dead quiet. I pulled out a custom built resonance speaker pole and pressed it firmly against the exact center of my bedroom ceiling. That specific spot was directly beneath Jax and Roxy’s mattress. This piece of gear operated on bone conduction technology. It forced sound waves straight through the floorboards, only vibrating the specific surface it made contact with. In layman’s terms, only the people lying on that specific mattress could hear the broadcast. I opened a folder on my desktop labeled Bedfellow. I double clicked an audio file. It was the sound of a man breathing heavily. I had run it through an EQ filter to make it sound intensely intimate. If you closed your eyes, you could almost feel the hot breath hitting the back of your neck. Playback started. Upstairs, Jax rolled over. Through my headphones, I caught his groggy muttering. The noise had pulled him out of sleep. The broadcasted breathing continued. It was steady, deep, and completely out of sync with Jax’s own chest. It sounded exactly like a third man was lying right between him and his wife. Jax sat bolt upright. His breathing hitched. “Who is there?” He bellowed into the dark, followed immediately by the sharp click of a bedside lamp. I slammed the pause button. Complete silence blanketed the room above, broken only by Roxy’s groggy complaints. “What the hell is wrong with you? It is two in the morning.” “You didn’t hear that? Someone was just breathing right next to me!” “There is nobody here. You had a nightmare. Go to sleep.” Jax clicked off the lamp and laid back down. I waited five full minutes until his breathing leveled out again. This time, I layered in a new track. The distinct rustle of fabric. Swish. Swish. The unmistakable sound of a man pulling on his clothes, or slipping out of bed. Jax shot up like a coiled spring. He didn’t even bother with the light this time. He vaulted off the mattress and started tearing the room apart. Closet doors were ripped open. Hangers clattered. He swept underneath the bed and violently yanked the curtains back. “Come out! Get the fuck out here!” He roared around the bedroom like a trapped, rabid animal. Roxy was terrified. She started bawling. “Jax, you are losing your mind! It is just us in here! What guy?” “I heard him perfectly! Right next to my fucking pillow!” He tore the place apart until dawn and found absolutely nothing. Early the next morning, Jax stomped out of the building with heavy, dark bags under his eyes. I stood perfectly still behind my curtains, watching his truck speed out of the parking lot. The moment he was gone, I flipped the switch on my signal jammer. It was a transmitter specifically calibrated for the cheap surveillance mic Jax had recently installed in their living room. I knew he had cameras. The wiring on that budget junk was notoriously unshielded. Hit it with enough magnetic interference, and I could inject my own audio feed directly into his cloud storage. I stood in my kitchen downstairs, brewing a fresh pot of coffee. I tapped my fingernails against the countertop. Tap. Tap. Tap. Three rhythmic knocks. The universal signal for a secret lover. Immediately after, I broadcasted a synthesized sequence of sounds. A man unlocking the door. Heavy boots stepping inside. The door clicking shut. These frequencies traveled through the ventilation shafts, feeding perfectly into Jax’s living room mic. It took less than twenty minutes for his truck to come squealing back into the lot. Heavy boots thundered up the stairwell. Jax kicked his own front door open with a deafening crash. “Where is he! Bring him out right now!” Roxy had been watching daytime television. The explosive entrance made her scream in pure terror. “What is your problem! I am just watching a show!” “I heard him knock! I heard a guy walk into my house!” Jax charged into the bedroom, ripping the sheets off the mattress. He even lunged onto the balcony, looking over the edge to see if someone had jumped. The apartment was empty. The canned laughter from the reality show echoed through the living room, sounding incredibly mocking. “Where are you hiding him, Roxy? Tell me!” 3 Jax grabbed Roxy by the hair and dragged her into the center of the living room. “You cheating whore! You think you can play me?” Once the seed of doubt is planted, every single sound becomes undeniable proof. I sat in my studio downstairs, elegantly sipping my coffee. Through the headphones, Roxy’s agonizing screams mixed with the dull, meaty thuds of fists hitting flesh. It was a beautiful sound. Far more intoxicating than any symphony. Roxy eventually broke free and ran downstairs, sobbing hysterically. She pounded on my door with everything she had. Her voice was drenched in absolute despair. “Open up! Please open the door! Help me!” I took my time hiding my equipment. I plastered a look of sheer panic onto my face and cracked the door open. Roxy shoved her way inside. Her face was bruised purple and blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. When she saw the bloodstained kitchen knife in my hand, she shrieked and nearly collapsed onto the floor. “Don’t worry. I was just slicing a watermelon.” I calmly pointed to the crushed fruit on my table. Red juice dripped steadily onto the floorboards. Still hyperventilating, Roxy clutched her chest, her eyes wide with terror. I set the knife down, grabbed my first aid kit, and began tending to her split lip. “Did he do this to you?” I asked, playing completely dumb. Roxy’s tears spilled over. “He lost his mind. He is convinced there is a man hiding in the apartment. He is going to kill me.” I let out a long, heavy sigh and pulled a digital voice recorder from my pocket. “Actually… I have been hearing things too.” Roxy’s head snapped up. She stared intensely at me. “Hearing what?” I pressed play. Jax’s gravelly, sinister voice hissed from the tiny speaker. “I am getting rid of that useless hag this week. Did you confirm the accidental death policy?” All the color drained from Roxy’s face. Her lips trembled so violently she couldn’t form a single word. The audio was entirely fabricated. I had spliced together clips of Jax swearing, layered over artificial static to make it sound like a covert phone call. But in her traumatized state, Roxy possessed zero critical thinking skills. She bought every word. “There is more,” I whispered, leaning in close. “Every single night, I hear him sharpening a blade. Scraping metal against stone. Over and over again. Right on your balcony.” Roxy’s pupils dilated in absolute horror. Her entire body began to shake. Right on cue, Jax’s thunderous roar echoed through the stairwell. “Get out here! I know you are down there!” Roxy grabbed my arm, her nails digging deep into my skin. “Hide me.” I pointed toward the reinforced wall of my studio. “Go in there. It is heavily soundproofed. He won’t find you.” Clinging to the offer like a lifeline, Roxy scrambled inside. Jax booted my door so hard the hinges groaned. I opened it, adopting the posture of a timid, terrified neighbor. “She… she isn’t here…” Jax shoved me aside and barged into my living room. He scanned the area like a predator. The studio door was perfectly concealed. It just looked like a blank wall. Finding nothing, he turned around and jammed a thick finger right in my face. “If I find out you are hiding her, I will put you in the ground right next to her!” He stormed out, cursing under his breath. I locked the door and let Roxy out of the panic room. “He is going to kill me. He is really going to kill me for the insurance money.” She collapsed onto my sofa, her eyes burning with pure, unadulterated hatred. “In this building, the only people who don’t make a sound are dead.” I murmured the words softly while handing her a glass of water. Roxy took the glass. Her hands were shaking so badly water sloshed onto the rug. Looking at her terrified, vengeful eyes, a wave of icy satisfaction washed over me. I still remembered the perjury she committed years ago. I remembered every single lie she told. You stood there and said it was a tragic accident. You said my fiancé slipped and fell on his own. Now, it is your turn to feel what it is like to have nowhere left to run. 4 Before Roxy slipped out of my apartment, she wedged a miniature recording bug deep between my sofa cushions. She really thought I didn’t notice. Pulling an amateur stunt like that in my house was beyond laughable. I didn’t remove the bug. Instead, I leaned down and whispered a sentence that only the microphone would catch. “Phase two is a go. Jax needs to die tonight.” Then, I pulled out my phone and dialed Jax’s number. “Hey, is this Jax?” “Who the fuck is this?” His voice was exhausted and wired with rage. “It is Harper from downstairs. Your wife is still here.” Dead silence on the line for two seconds, followed by a volcanic scream. “I fucking knew it!” “Just listen to me,” I hissed, pouring fake panic into my tone. “She was just talking to someone. She said she is going to kill you. I don’t want any trouble, man. Just come get her.” Two minutes later, Jax was pounding on my door. I handed him the recording bug Roxy had hidden in my couch. Naturally, the audio file inside had already been completely swapped out. “She dropped this. I think you really need to hear it.” Jax snatched the device with furious, bloodshot eyes and hit play. Roxy’s hushed voice played back, masked by heavy electrical static I had mixed in to sound like a covert rendezvous. “We do it tonight. I bought the powder. I will slip it into his beer. He won’t even see it coming.” A deep male voice responded. “Don’t worry, babe. Once he is out of the picture, we grab the cash and vanish.” Jax’s face turned a violent shade of crimson. The veins in his neck looked ready to burst. He squeezed the little plastic recorder so hard his knuckles turned stark white. “Okay. Okay, let’s play.” He ground the words out through clenched teeth. He turned on his heel, radiating a murderous, suffocating aura. Upstairs, Roxy was waiting. She probably thought I had successfully pacified her husband. She was probably dreaming of her grand escape. She had no idea the grim reaper was already unlocking her front door. After sending Jax away, I rushed back into the studio to set the final stage. I dusted the floorboards with a fine layer of flour. I suspended dozens of hyper sensitive condenser microphones from the ceiling. I switched on a set of blinding strobe lights. Finally, I attached the heavy duty low frequency transducer to the ceiling. Frequency set to eighteen hertz. That is the exact frequency of infrasound. The human ear cannot hear it, but the sound waves physically vibrate the eyeballs. It triggers severe optical illusions, blurred vision, and a deep, primal sense of impending doom. I was going to dial their paranoia up to the absolute maximum. Within minutes, the crashing started upstairs. Furniture shattering. Vicious interrogations. Then came Roxy’s bloodcurdling screams, accompanied by the heavy, sickening thuds of a body hitting the floor. I grabbed my burner phone and dialed 911. “I need to report a massive narcotics stash. My upstairs neighbors are cooking meth and holding large quantities of drugs.” I didn’t say murder. I said drugs. Because I knew for a fact Jax had a massive stash hidden up there. It was his biggest vulnerability. His absolute Achilles heel. The SWAT team arrived with terrifying speed. Shouting, battering rams, heavy boots tearing through the apartment. Jax denied everything, of course. But he had no idea the cops were making a beeline straight for his secret floorboard compartment. Roxy had given me the exact location hours ago. Even though Jax had managed to flush the bulk of the product down the toilet when the sirens blared, the heavy chemical residue and glass pipes were impossible to hide. They dragged Jax out in handcuffs, taking him down to the precinct for a mandatory tox screen. Roxy had survived the night. She probably thought she had won the war. But I knew better. This was merely the eye of the hurricane. A hardened street thug like Jax would definitely find a loophole, or at least post bail before dawn. And the second he walked back into this building, it would be a fight to the death.

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1 I was born with severely hyper-reactive skin. Anything less than the absolute highest tier of luxury fabric sends me into a full-blown allergic shock. Ironically, this medical curse caught the eye of a haute couture label owner. She hired me as the company’s chief quality assurance director. My rule was simple. If I put on a gown and it felt uncomfortable, it had to be remade. Today, I rejected three sample dresses from our newest designer. She completely lost her mind. “Who are you to say my pieces cannot be sold!” “I have a master’s degree in design from Paris. You are a self-taught nobody. You have zero right to critique my work!” “Let me spell it out for you. My mother owns this company. You are making me uncomfortable now, so you can pack your desk and get out!” I gently rubbed my inflamed arms, feeling a massive headache coming on. I really debated whether or not I should tell her the truth. The lead investor keeping this company afloat was my oldest sister. The exclusive fabric supplier was my second sister. The A-list celebrity who originally put this obscure brand on the map was my third sister. The only reason Hollywood actresses flocked here for red carpet gowns was because their talent agency CEO was my fourth sister. The brand got featured annually in the world’s top fashion magazine because the editor-in-chief was my fifth sister. My sixth sister was the best internal medicine physician in the country. My seventh sister was a notoriously ruthless corporate lawyer. And they had both explicitly warned me that if I suffered one more allergic reaction at work, they would bury this company in medical reports and lawsuits. Before I took this job, all seven of my sisters sat me down. “Sloane, if this job makes you happy, we support you.” “But if anyone there makes you uncomfortable, we will make sure nobody in that building ever sleeps comfortably again.” … Camille snatched the rejected dresses off the rack and violently whipped them into my face. The sharp, acrid smell of cheap synthetic dye immediately suffocated me. I pinched my nose and stumbled backward. My voice was completely flat. “Your fabric choices are garbage and your tailoring is sloppy. The seams scrape my skin raw. According to our corporate standards, these do not pass.” “Your mother hired me. If you want me fired, she is in a meeting next door. Go complain to her.” It just so happened that Serena, my third sister, was visiting the office today to negotiate her endorsement contract for the upcoming season. My skin was burning, and I felt nauseous. I figured I would just hitch a ride home with her later. I turned to leave, but Camille lunged forward and grabbed a fistful of my hair. “Stop using my mother to threaten me! You play this manipulative little victim act, pretending you are allergic to everything. It might work on her, but it does not work on a professional like me!” “You think you are so delicate? You think my clothes are uncomfortable? Let’s see what actually happens when you wear them!” Camille practically pinned me against the desk, forcing the cheap gown over my head. I dodged left and right, but the allergic reaction hit me like a freight train. The rough, toxic fabric scraped aggressively against my bare shoulders. A wave of intense dizziness washed over me. My breathing grew dangerously shallow. A few of the other employees exchanged nervous glances. One of them finally spoke up in a quiet voice. “Camille, Sloane really does have a severe condition. She keeps EpiPens and antihistamines at her desk.” “A lot of our wealthiest clients have the exact same autoimmune issues. That is why she tests the garments. If a client has a reaction, we get sued.” Camille’s face twisted into an ugly snarl. “So you are telling me that an elite graduate from Paris is somehow inferior to an uneducated fraud?” She aggressively ripped the collar of my cotton undershirt, rubbing the fabric between her fingers before bursting into manic laughter. “I thought you could only wear top-tier luxury goods? Look at this basic cotton rag she is wearing. We could buy a truckload of this trash for the price of one of my gowns.” She had no idea. This basic cotton was organically grown on my second sister’s private pesticide-free estates. The air in the textile mill was hospital-grade filtered. And the so-called premium fabric Camille was bragging about? My family supplied it. She was just using the cheap, discarded offcuts we sold at a massive discount. The abrasive material kept scraping my skin. A massive cluster of angry red hives erupted across my neck. If I did not get my medication immediately, my throat would close and my organs would begin to fail. I desperately reached for my handbag, but Camille slammed her designer heel down on my fingers. “Trying to run now that your lie is exposed?” “Hold her down. I am going to make her wear my design and drag her into my mother’s office to beg for forgiveness!” The entire design floor went dead silent. The staff just stared at each other. When nobody moved, Camille’s voice escalated into a hysterical shriek. “Do you idiots not understand how this works! You ignore the boss’s daughter to protect a scam artist?” “Fine! The second my mother’s meeting is over, I am firing every single one of you! Let’s see if you ever work in the fashion industry again!” Intimidated by the threat, a junior designer named Brooke stepped forward. Her eyes were cold. “I will help you, Camille.” “She is always rejecting my patterns. Always complaining about my fabric choices. I have been sick of her face for months.” “Let’s make her nice and comfortable.” Brooke grabbed another heavy synthetic skirt and shoved it forcefully into my face. My stomach violently cramped. My wheezing grew louder. My entire body felt like it was submerged in boiling water. I dug my fingernails deep into my own palms, fighting to stay conscious. Just hold on. Every time Serena finishes her business meetings, she always comes to find me. Through the fog of my fading consciousness, I heard the familiar click of Serena’s heels approaching from the hallway. I forced my eyes open and screamed out for her. But my throat was so swollen that the sound came out as a pathetic, raspy croak. Serena paused outside the glass doors, furrowing her perfect brows, and looked toward the design department. Camille reacted instantly. She slapped a hand over my mouth. With Brooke’s help, they shoved me backward into a dark, suffocating storage closet. Camille quickly smoothed her skirt and walked out to greet my sister with a sickeningly sweet smile. “Oh, I am so sorry about the noise. Some of our interns lack basic manners. They get a little too excited when celebrities visit the office.” “You are even more stunning in person, Serena. Did the meeting go well?” Serena barely glanced at her. Her sharp eyes swept the room. She lowered her voice, completely ignoring the compliment. “Is it not working hours? Where is Sloane?” A flash of pure disgust crossed Camille’s face, but she masked it quickly. “What terrible timing. I actually sent her out to meet a client this morning.” “Did you need to speak with Sloane about the new collection? I am the head designer. You can just talk to me.” The lie was painfully obvious. Because of my medical condition, Eleanor and I had a strict agreement when I signed my contract. I never did field work, and I never met clients in person. Serena clearly knew this. She gave Camille a long, piercing stare before pulling out her phone. Three seconds later, a customized ringtone echoed through the room. But the phone was not in my pocket. It was sitting right on my desk. Camille let out a heavy breath, feigning amusement. “Sloane is so forgetful. She left for her meeting without her phone.” “But do not worry, our company driver and another associate are with her. She should be back soon.” “The new gowns are waiting in the fitting room. Please, follow me.” Serena stared at my glowing phone for a very long time. Her beautiful face grew dangerously dark. The atmosphere in the room turned suffocatingly tense. The employees who knew the truth began to sweat, awkwardly avoiding eye contact. Jenna, the girl who tried to help me earlier, opened her mouth to speak. But before she could, Eleanor walked in. “Sloane is out having afternoon tea with Mrs. Astor,” Eleanor lied smoothly. “You know how much Mrs. Astor trusts Sloane’s eye. She will be back shortly.” “Why don’t you view the garments with my assistant? I will notify you the second she returns.” I could tell Serena was on the verge of exploding, but she forcefully held it back. Years ago, when I was in high school, I was five minutes late meeting her at the gate. Serena practically tore the school apart looking for me. I felt so embarrassed that I made all my sisters swear a blood oath. They were never allowed to expose our family background or throw their weight around at my workplace. I never imagined that my desire to be independent would end up nearly killing me. Serena gave a tight, clipped nod and turned toward the hallway. Inside the pitch-black closet, the air was entirely depleted. I tried to regulate my frantic breathing. Gathering the absolute last ounce of my strength, I weakly pounded my fist against the wooden door. Thump. Thump. The faint sound echoed across the quiet office. Serena’s head snapped around instantly. “What was that?” Brooke panicked. She grabbed a can of heavy aerosol bug spray and started misting it aggressively near the closet baseboards. “We have a terrible rat problem this week! You should step into the VIP lounge so they do not ruin your designer heels.” The toxic chemical fumes seeped through the door cracks. My lungs completely seized. I let out a broken, wheezing cough. Serena’s eyes flared with absolute fury. “What kind of garbage establishment are you running! Do you not know that Sloane… that some of your employees are terrified of rats?” “I am calling my personal extermination team right now. They will tear these walls open if they have to.” “If this is not resolved, I am terminating my endorsement contract.” Brooke plastered on a fake, terrified smile, begging her to calm down. Serena pulled out her phone and marched down the corridor to make the call. My heart sank into my stomach. Black spots completely covered my vision. Camille was thrilled to see her leave and eagerly tried to follow her. Eleanor’s expression morphed into pure rage. She grabbed her daughter by the arm and yanked her back. “Where did you hide her? Is she in that closet?” Camille blinked, still trying to play dumb. “No! She is probably hiding in the bathroom to avoid working. Why are you blaming me?” Eleanor practically growled. “Camille, I am your mother! Do you really think you can lie to me?” “Do you have any idea how valuable Sloane is to this company!” Eleanor pushed past her and ripped the closet door open. I tumbled out onto the hardwood floor. Cool, fresh air rushed into my lungs, providing a tiny fraction of relief. I dragged my heavy body toward my desk, reaching for the emergency inhaler in my drawer with a violently trembling hand. I pressed the nozzle and inhaled. But instead of medicine, a foul, chemical taste coated my tongue. A blinding pain ripped through my chest. I coughed so hard I could not breathe. The metallic taste of blood filled the back of my throat. Camille stared down at me with cold, dead eyes. A wicked smirk crept onto her face. “See, Mom? I told you she was faking it.” “She claimed she would go into shock if she wore my clothes. Well, I dumped her medicine out and replaced it with tap water and perfume. Look at her, she is still breathing.” “Anyone can fake a panic attack. And those hives? Who knows what kind of disgusting disease she brought into our office.” “You pay this liar a fortune every month just so she can torture your real designers. Call the legal department and have her sued for fraud!” A flicker of hesitation crossed Eleanor’s eyes. Her tone softened slightly. “Stop acting like a spoiled brat! Whether her skills are real or not, you saw how Serena treats her!” “Even our exclusive fabric supplier asked about Sloane by name last week.” “They all share the same last name. They have to be related somehow. Do not ruin my business over a petty grudge.” Camille let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Mom, you are such a coward. We are the ones paying them.” “She is just an actress. If she refuses to sign, it is her loss. There are a million celebrities out there.” “And the supplier? Cut the contract. I can find you ten better textile factories by tomorrow.” “I looked at our financial reports. Their fees are bleeding us dry. This little bitch is definitely taking a secret kickback from them. That is why she keeps failing my designs!” That specific accusation hit Eleanor’s absolute weakest nerve. Her face darkened, and she fell completely silent. She had constantly complained to me about high production costs and low profit margins. What she did not know was that a megastar like Serena would never look twice at a boutique this small. The price Eleanor was paying was already a massive family discount. And those VIP clients who signed massive contracts with us? They were only buying the clothes because my second sister’s anti-allergy fabric was a patented marvel. No other company on earth had access to it. I gasped for air, forcing the words out of my bleeding throat. “Eleanor… you were the one… who begged me to work here.” Eleanor let out a cold sigh and crouched down next to me. “Sloane, I believe your allergies are real. It looks painful. I will have someone call you an ambulance.” A brief flicker of hope sparked in my chest, but the sudden, vicious glint in Eleanor’s eyes extinguished it instantly. “But Camille is right. You and your little supplier friends have been playing me for a fool all these years, taking a cut of my profits.” “Business is tough right now. Transfer all the kickbacks you stole into my account, and I will let this slide.” “Otherwise…” Eleanor cracked open a mini bottle of cheap liquor from the catering cart. She grabbed my jaw and poured it directly into my mouth. “An alcohol allergy is a terrible thing, is it not?” Out of all my triggers, alcohol caused the most lethal reaction. My internal organs felt like they were literally catching fire. Every single breath required a superhuman effort, yet no oxygen was reaching my brain. I could not form a single word. I just mouthed the words, Phone. Transfer. Eleanor eagerly placed my phone into my hand. But before I could unlock it, Camille’s heel came crashing down on my fingers again. “Mom, you are being an idiot! If you give her the phone, she is going to call the cops!” “I already had the legal department draft a document. Make her sign it.” They were so blinded by greed that they failed to notice my phone screen blinking with a faint, pulsing red light. It was an emergency dead-man switch my sisters had custom installed. The moment my biometric vitals dropped to critical levels, an SOS signal blanketed the city. I was hovering on the edge of total blackness. Camille pulled a termination and repayment contract out of her folder and slapped it against my face. “Mom, I hated her the second I walked into this office. The lawyers drew this up yesterday.” “I hired an independent auditor to review every single dollar this company has spent since she arrived. When they find the missing money, this contract legally binds her to pay us back triple the amount.” “Hey, stop playing dead. Pick up the pen and sign it.” My fingers twitched. I wanted to sign it immediately just to get them away from me. Jenna stepped forward, her voice shaking. “You cannot do this. Half our VIP clients have it written in their contracts that Sloane must personally inspect their garments.” “If Sloane leaves, we are in breach of contract. We will owe millions in damages, and we will never get another order.” Camille crossed her arms, smiling with supreme, unearned confidence. “What do you know? When the brand was new, sure, we needed a gimmick like her. But the company is established now. People buy our clothes because of the design, not because of some quality inspector.” “I studied in Paris. My name alone will bring in a flood of high-end clients.” She forcefully jammed a pen into my crushed, bleeding hand. I reflexively curled my fingers, sending a blinding spike of agony up my arm. Camille rolled her eyes in annoyance. “Still trying to stall? You really want to do this the hard way.” She snatched the bottle of liquor from her mother and poured the rest of the burning alcohol directly onto my open wounds. The pain was absolute torture. A silent scream died in my throat. The severe allergic reaction caused my entire face and neck to swell violently. Having lost all patience, Camille physically grabbed my hand and violently dragged it across the paper, forging my signature. “There. Done. You said your relative is a famous actress? Better go beg her for the money you owe us.” The pen slipped from my fingers. My vision went completely black. The voices around me sounded like they were underwater. Camille kicked me hard in the ribs. “Get her out of here. Mark, Jenna, pick her up and throw her down the back stairwell.” The exact second they reached for me, the heavy glass doors to the office completely shattered open.

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I was trapped in the mangled wreck of my car after a multi-car pile-up, bleeding profusely, my life hanging by a thread. My husband was the city’s top trauma surgeon, and the leader of this helicopter medical rescue team. As he rushed to my car with an emergency kit, his phone rang. After the call, he glanced at me, covered in blood, then turned to his intern, “You handle this. Iris, Samantha’s daughter, is having an asthma attack. I need to go now.” I desperately clutched at his pant leg, but he kicked me away. “Eleanor, it’s just a broken bone, you’re not dying! Don’t be so dramatic right now!” The helicopter roared away, taking with it my last hope of survival. When I next woke, I saw his Ins post: “My little princess’s asthma is finally calm. Superman Daddy is always here.” I pulled out the IV line from my hand and called my lawyer, “Activate that hidden equity agreement. I want Osman completely out of the medical field today.” The smell of gasoline, blood, and the screech of grinding metal. The multi-car pile-up on the interstate was a scene of utter devastation, like a glimpse into hell. I was pinned in the driver’s seat, the steering wheel pressed against my chest, and a jagged piece of rebar had pierced my right leg. Blood was gushing out in torrents. As my consciousness slowly faded, the roar of a helicopter filled the air above. The rescue team had arrived. I struggled to open my eyes, and amidst the fluorescent-clad rescuers, I immediately spotted that familiar figure. My husband, Osman. He was the chief of trauma surgery at Kind Heart Hospital and the absolute core of this emergency medical rescue. “Osman…” I weakly called out, tears mixing with blood, salty and bitter in my mouth. He held emergency equipment and strode purposefully towards my car. When he saw it was me inside, his steps abruptly halted, and his brow instantly furrowed. “Eleanor? What are you doing here?” He didn’t immediately come forward to check my injuries. Instead, his voice carried a hint of impatience. “Help me… I’m in so much pain…” I trembled, reaching out a bloody hand, trying to grab him. Just then, his phone rang in his pocket. In this race-against-time rescue, he actually stopped and answered the call. “Samantha, what’s wrong?” His previously tense, cold voice softened instantly upon answering the call. From the other end, a woman’s tearful voice was clearly audible, even amidst the chaos. “Osman, please come quickly! Iris is having another asthma attack, her face is turning purple, I’m so scared, I don’t know who else to call besides you…” Osman’s expression changed drastically, his eyes filled with anxiety. “Don’t panic, lay her flat. I’ll be right there!” He hung up and turned to leave. I mustered every last ounce of strength, desperately clinging to his pant leg. “Osman… are you crazy? I’m still bleeding… Where are you going?” He turned back, looking down at me with an gaze as cold as if I were a complete stranger. “Eleanor, can you stop being so dramatic right now? It’s just a leg injury, you’ll be fine!” “Samantha is alone with the child, and Iris is in critical condition. I have to go!” I widened my eyes in disbelief, looking at the rebar piercing my thigh and the pool of blood gathering on the seat cushion. “You call this ‘just a minor injury’? I’m your wife! I’m O-negative, and you’re the only one on site who can perform this emergency hemostasis!” “I said you’ll be fine, and you will be!” He roughly pulled my hand away, then turned and yelled at a terrified intern standing nearby. “Kalman, handle this patient. I have an urgent matter and need to use the helicopter!” “But Osman, she has an arterial injury, and I… I have no experience!” The intern’s face turned pale with fright. “Can’t you even apply pressure to stop bleeding? Useless!” Osman spat out the words and ran towards the helicopter without looking back. I watched as the helicopter stirred up a massive gust of wind, slowly ascending, carrying away my last hope of living. For his ex-girlfriend’s daughter’s asthma, he not only abandoned his dying wife but also unilaterally diverted the only medical rescue helicopter at the scene. Intense pain and blood loss made my vision swim. Just as I thought I was doomed to die there today, a strong pair of hands forcefully wrenched open the deformed car door. “Hold on, don’t fall asleep!” A man in a black outdoor jacket knelt beside me, deftly tearing open my pant leg and expertly applying pressure to my femoral artery. “I’m Douglas from State Hospital. I’m performing emergency hemostasis now. Deep breaths!” It was Douglas, the youngest cardiovascular and trauma prodigy at State Hospital. Before completely losing consciousness, I took a long, deep look in the direction the helicopter had disappeared. Osman, since you chose Samantha. Then it’s war between us.

When I woke again, my eyes were met with blinding white. The VIP room was eerily quiet, save for the rhythmic beeping of the cardiac monitor. “Ms. Julian, you’re awake.” Sitting on the sofa by the bed was my attorney and long-time friend, Gibbs. “How long have I been asleep?” My voice was hoarse as if I’d swallowed sand. “Three full days.” Gibbs poured a glass of warm water, moistening my lips with a cotton swab. “Dr. Douglas performed extreme hemostasis on you at the scene and personally brought you to State Hospital for surgery. You were literally snatched back from the jaws of death.” I lowered my gaze, looking at my right leg, heavily bandaged. “Where’s Osman?” Gibbs scoffed, handing me his tablet. “Your wonderful husband has been quite busy these past three days.” On the screen was Osman’s Ins post from half an hour ago. In the photo, he was dressed in casual clothes, holding Samantha’s daughter, feeding pigeons in the garden of a high-end private hospital. Samantha leaned against him, smiling coyly. The caption read: “My little princess’s asthma is finally calm. With Superman Daddy here, there’s nothing to fear. Peaceful times, grateful for you.” Below it were countless likes and compliments from his unwitting friends. “Osman is such a good man.” “What a happy family.” I looked at those words and suddenly felt a wave of nausea, even my chest ached faintly. Three years ago, Osman was just a struggling doctor whose talents went unrecognized. It was I, Eleanor Julian, who utilized all of the Julian family’s resources, even going against my family, to establish a special medical fund, paving his way to become the chief of trauma surgery at Kind Heart Hospital. I thought I could soften a stone-cold heart, but I never imagined he was just an ungrateful viper. The moment Samantha returned to the country, all his affection and responsibility shifted to her. “Not only that,” Gibbs scrolled the screen, bringing up another document. “Osman was commended by Kind Heart Hospital for his ‘decisive command’ at the car crash scene and ‘timely dispatch of a helicopter to transport a critically ill child.’ He’s now being nominated for this year’s ‘City’s Outstanding Young Doctor’ award.” I almost laughed aloud. Abandoning his severely injured wife and dozens of other casualties at the scene, misusing a public rescue helicopter to pick up a child having an asthma attack, and he’d managed to spin it into a glorious achievement? “What did Kind Heart Hospital say?” I asked coldly. “The entire hospital is covering for him.” Gibbs adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, a glint in his eyes. “After all, Osman is Kind Heart Hospital’s star. That intern, Kalman, has already been silenced. They even altered the rescue records, listing you as ‘minor injuries’.” “Good, truly excellent.” I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and when I opened them again, only bone-chilling coldness remained. “Gibbs, get all those things ready that I asked you to prepare before the crash.” “Also, contact Kind Heart Hospital’s board of directors and inform them that the Julian Group Foundation will be conducting an audit.” A hint of excitement curved Gibbs’s lips. “No problem, I’ve been waiting for you to say that. This kind of scumbag, if we don’t make him lose everything, it would be a disservice to all the blood you shed.” Just then, the hospital room door was forcefully pushed open. Jack, Osman’s assistant, poked his head in, carrying a cheap fruit basket. Seeing me awake, he visibly froze, then put on a fake smile. “Ms. Julian, you’re awake? Mr. Osman has been busy with an important consultation these past few days and couldn’t break away, so he specially asked me to come check on you.” I looked at him coldly, “An important consultation? Was it the one feeding pigeons in a private hospital garden?” Jack’s smile stiffened, and cold sweat beaded on his forehead. “Ms. Julian, please don’t misunderstand, Mr. Osman he…” “Get out.” I couldn’t be bothered to listen to his nonsense. “Ms. Julian, actually, I have one more thing to do today.” Jack bravely stepped forward, pulling a document from his briefcase. “This is the hospital’s accident waiver. Mr. Osman said that since nothing major happened to you this time, to avoid affecting his award nomination, he hopes you can sign it to confirm his rescue deployment was reasonable.” I looked at the absurd waiver, my anger turning into a cold laugh. He not only wanted my life but also wanted me to step on my own blood and flesh to elevate his throne. “Nothing major happened?” I snatched the water cup from the bedside table and hurled it violently at Jack’s feet. The sound of shattering glass echoed through the room. “Take this trash and go back and tell Osman. He wants my signature? Tell him to come beg me on his knees!”

Less than half an hour after Jack scrambled away, Osman’s call came through. I put it on speaker and started recording. “Eleanor, what the hell is wrong with you?” The moment the call connected, his usual arrogant, accusatory tone filled the room. “Jack went to visit you out of goodwill, why did you throw something?” “Do you know how exhausted I’ve been these past few days dealing with the aftermath of the crash? Can’t you be more sensible and stop being so hysterical!” Listening to his attempt to shift the blame, my heart was surprisingly calm. There’s no greater sorrow than a heart that has given up, that’s probably what it felt like. “You’re tired?” I sneered. “Tired from Samantha’s bed, or from feeding pigeons with her daughter?” A moment of silence on the other end, then his voice abruptly rose. “You’re spying on me? Eleanor, you’re an utterly unreasonable, jealous woman!” “Samantha just returned to the country, and Iris isn’t well. What’s wrong with me taking care of them as a friend?” “As a friend, you need to abandon your hemorrhaging wife and use a hospital rescue helicopter to pick them up?” “I told you, you weren’t going to die then!” Osman roared. “Look at you now, aren’t you perfectly fine, arguing with me?” “Iris is different; asthma can suffocate someone! As a doctor, is it wrong for me to judge who needs emergency care more?” His twisted logic was astonishing. “Osman, have you lost even your most basic common sense?” “A ruptured artery versus pediatric asthma, which one is immediately fatal? Did you spend ten years of medical school learning absolutely nothing?” “Don’t you dare lecture me!” He was stung and lashed out in anger. “I’m telling you, you will sign that waiver!” “This ‘Outstanding Young Doctor’ selection is crucial to me. If I win it, I’ll be smoothly promoted to Vice-Director.” “If you dare to sabotage me at this critical juncture, don’t blame me for disregarding our marriage!” I listened silently to his rant, my finger tapping lightly on the tablet. “What if I don’t sign?” “Don’t sign?” Osman sneered, “Eleanor, don’t forget, the room you’re in, the medication you’re taking, it’s all because of my connections!” “If I stopped your specialized care, do you think you’d recover this quickly? You’d better face reality; without me, you’re nothing!” “Alright, I understand.” I didn’t argue with him as usual, but calmly hung up the phone. Save the recording, package it, and send it to Gibbs. Without him, I’m nothing? He probably forgot who gave him everything he has now. In the afternoon, an uninvited guest arrived in my room: Samantha. She was wearing a designer gown, ten-centimeter heels, and exquisite makeup, walking in like a victor. She was also holding hands with her so-called “near-death” daughter, Iris. Iris held a lollipop, her face rosy, showing no trace of weakness from an asthma attack. “Oh, Eleanor, you really are awake?” Samantha took off her sunglasses, feigning surprise by covering her mouth, but her eyes shamelessly scrutinized my cast-clad leg. “Osman said you were seriously injured; I was so worried. So, as soon as Iris was discharged, I rushed to bring her to see you.” I leaned against the headboard, watching her poor act with cold eyes. “Seen enough? The door’s behind you. No need to escort you out.” Samantha didn’t get angry; she simply pulled up a chair and sat down. “Eleanor, don’t be so upset. I know Osman couldn’t tend to you that day because he was saving Iris, and you’re upset.” “But you have to be understanding of him, after all… Iris is very special to him.” She deliberately emphasized ‘very special,’ her eyes full of provocation. I sneered, “Oh really? How special? So special that he’d abandon his wife?” Samantha’s face froze, then she reverted to that smug expression. “Eleanor, women need to know how to compromise. You’re always so strong, of course Osman doesn’t like it.” “He was complaining to me yesterday, saying he felt so suffocated with you. Only with me does he feel like a needed man.” She leaned closer, lowering her voice to a whisper only we could hear: “Actually, Osman has wanted to divorce you for a long time. He only stayed with you for your Julian family’s resources.” “Now he’s about to become Vice-Director. Do you think you still have any use for him?” I looked at her gloating face, feeling no anger, only pity. “Samantha, what kind of perfect man do you think you’ve found?” I picked up my phone, shaking the screen to show the active recording interface. “I’ve recorded every single word you just said. What do you think Osman would think if I sent this recording to him?” Samantha’s face instantly changed. She abruptly stood up, trying to snatch my phone. “You tricked me!” “Bang!” The door to the room was forcefully pushed open, and Douglas, in a white lab coat, walked in expressionlessly. He was followed by two security guards. “Ma’am, this is the Intensive Care Unit. Unauthorized personnel are not allowed. Security, please escort her out.” Seeing this, Samantha immediately put on a pathetic expression, tears welling up instantly. “Doctor, you’ve misunderstood, I’m here to visit my sister…” Douglas didn’t spare her a glance, simply uttered coldly, “Get her out.” The security guards immediately stepped forward, grabbing Samantha by each arm. “What are you doing! Let go of me! I’m Osman’s guest!” Samantha shrieked as she was dragged out, even losing one of her high heels. The room returned to quiet. Douglas walked to the bedside and flipped through my medical records. “Recovering well. But your taste is indeed questionable, to fall for such trash?” His tongue was as sharp as ever. I looked at him, earnestly saying, “Thank you, Dr. Douglas. Not just for saving my life.” Douglas closed the medical record, his hands in the pockets of his lab coat, looking down at me. “No need for thanks. I just don’t like people making a scene on my turf. Also…” He paused, a sharp glint flashing in his deep eyes. “Kind Heart Hospital has already sealed your medical records.” “They plan to portray you as a hysterical woman who obstructed rescue efforts to highlight Osman’s heroic image. What do you plan to do?” I curled my lips into a cold smile. “What to do?” “Since they’ve set the stage, I’ll be the one to put on the show for them.”

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The day my wife returned from her business trip, I secretly brought our son to the airport to surprise her. As she stepped out of the arrival gate, my wife was laughing and chatting with a man. When it was time to say goodbye, the man suddenly wrapped his arms around her waist. I expected my wife to be furious, but she didn’t even give him a warning look. Instead, she blushed and told him, “You can’t do that at the office.” I picked up our son and left the airport without looking back. My wife came home and found me in the kitchen. A flicker of guilt crossed her face. “William, thanks for holding down the fort these past few days. Let’s eat.” In six years of marriage, I rarely heard my wife say something like that. Because she always emphasized that “she” was the hardest working, strongest, and greatest person in the world. That scene at the airport made me remember calling her the night before. She’d breathlessly told me she was jogging, then quickly hung up. Looks like she was lying. My heart felt heavy, like a huge rock was pressing down on it. “I’m not hungry. You guys eat.” I went back to the room, but soon after, my wife sat down beside me. She asked, annoyed, “William, we haven’t seen each other in a week. Are you really giving me attitude the moment I walk in?” I smiled and shot back, “Oh, Ms. Mia, you’re joking. I’m just a househusband. How dare I give you attitude?” She caught my sarcasm and explained that her business trip had been too busy, so she hadn’t had time to call or video chat. To cheer me up, she pulled out a T-shirt she’d bought for me, asking me to try it on. “I snuck in some time to buy matching family outfits for the three of us. You used to get upset when I didn’t wear matching couple outfits with you, remember? Are you happy now? Come on, try it on, see if it fits.” I knew she was deliberately bringing that up to dodge the real issue. So I snatched the T-shirt and threw it away. This action made her lose her last shred of patience. “William, are you really going to keep this up? Is it just because I brought Carter on the trip? He’s my junior from college, and he’s my employee. He wants to learn from my work experience. He’s ambitious. What’s wrong with that?” I retorted, “It’s not just work experience your ‘junior’ wants from you, is it?” “What do you mean? William, you’re just dirty-minded, so you see everyone that way. People really shouldn’t be idle for too long!” “What do you think I’m working my butt off for out there? Isn’t it for “our” family? What can you do besides being mindlessly jealous? If you were just a little more capable, would I, a woman, have to be out there in the public eye?” “Do you know what people are saying about us? They’re calling me a sugar mama! Out of sight, out of mind for you, but I’ve been humiliated because of you!” For three years, I’d lived under this constant pressure. Every argument, she’d repeat the same lines: I was useless, a leech, a sugar baby. Normally, at this point, I would apologize first. I knew her temper. Since I was with her, I should be more understanding. But not this time. This wasn’t about temper; it was about integrity, about betrayal.

I simply couldn’t tolerate her and her ‘junior’s’ dirty “pure” relationship anymore! I looked at her calmly. “If that’s the case, then I guess you should stop embarrassing yourself. Let’s just get a divorce.” My marriage to Mia was purely by accident. A few years ago, I was selling masks on SnapChat. Back then, Mia was my boss. She saw my post and asked me to deliver them to her place. That day, as soon as I handed her the masks, an ambulance took away a few suspected cases from her apartment complex. She had no choice but to let me stay. Over time, feelings grew, and we naturally got together. But my nightmare was just beginning. Mia had been divorced once before, because her ex-husband cheated. So after we married, she was very strict with me. I couldn’t even like or comment on posts from other women on SnapChat. Once, I helped a female colleague get a discount on Wish, and she yelled at me all night for it. At first, I didn’t pay much attention. I knew she’d been hurt by her ex-husband, and that’s why she was so guarded. Plus, I hadn’t dated much and naively believed men should always defer to women. Later, she complained that my parents weren’t good at taking care of our son, claiming they weren’t educated enough and were too permissive with him. So she made me quit my job and become a stay-at-home dad. When we got married, I promised I’d meet all her demands, so I agreed. It was around this time that her college junior, Carter, came back to the States. My wife casually invited me to dinner with him. At the table, they talked about their college days, how my wife used to take care of him, and how he admired her. Carter even said that if my wife weren’t already married, he’d definitely pursue her now that he was back. Afterward, I seriously told my wife that Carter’s words were inappropriate. But my wife retorted, “Is “he” out of line, or are “you” just oversensitive? It was just a joke, why are you making such a big deal out of it? We’re going to be seeing each other all the time, so don’t say such senseless things anymore!” “Seeing each other all the time? What do you mean?” “I’ve decided to hire Carter at the company. You quit to take care of our son, and the company is short-staffed right now. So Carter’s timing is perfect; he can fill the gap your absence leaves.” In the following days, my wife and her junior frequently went out together. She even forgot our wedding anniversary, only coming home the next morning. I smelled the alcohol on her and asked her what she’d been doing. She looked at the food I’d prepared on the table and explained, “Carter just got back, right? His girlfriend abroad broke up with him, so I was comforting him and we had some drinks. What day was yesterday, anyway? You made all this delicious food?” “You forgot our wedding anniversary just to comfort him?” My wife paused, then actually said, “Good thing I forgot. If Carter’s heartbreak happened on our anniversary, he’d be even more miserable.” I was furious. I immediately wanted to call Carter and yell at him. But my wife stopped me, calling me petty and a small man who couldn’t achieve anything significant. I said, “Mia, you’re becoming more and more like your ex-husband.” “William, what do you mean by bringing up my ex-husband? You’ve looked down on me for being divorced from the start, haven’t you? I know you resent me. I won’t burden you; I can divorce you!” Faced with her emotional blackmail, I could only reassure her that I didn’t mean it. Then I apologized, silently enduring it, until this business trip she took with Carter. I was genuinely fed up with this life. Anyone else who wants this, go ahead. I’m only twenty-eight, and I already have gray hairs! But the next morning, Mia knocked on my bedroom door. To my surprise, she shed her usual high-and-mighty CEO persona and said, “Honey, yesterday was my fault.” Every time we argued before, she would be the one to bring up divorce, and I would apologize. And every time, she would genuinely believe I was in the wrong. But after a night of struggling with my thoughts, I knew what I wanted now. “No, Ms. Mia, you’re perfectly fine. It’s me who’s wrong. Actually, we never should have been together from the start. Let’s get divorced while we’re still young, so neither of us wastes any more time.” Hearing my words, my wife truly panicked. She grabbed me and demanded, “William, I’ve already apologized to you. What more do you want?” That’s her. Even an apology had to be delivered from on high. Besides, just because she apologized, did I have to accept it? “I said, I want a divorce.” She clung to my hand, her voice agitated. “William, if we divorce, what about our son?” I shot back, “When Carter was hugging you, did you think about our son then?” At my words, Mia’s expression changed dramatically. The muscles in her face twitched uncontrollably. She finally realized why I was divorcing her. “William, were you at the airport yesterday?” “Yes, I was. I meant to bring our son to surprise you, but instead, it turned into a nasty surprise for me. You two are quite a match. If I stayed any longer, it would be me being inconsiderate.” The calmer I was, the more frightened Mia became. Her voice trembling, she explained, “William, listen to me. Carter lived abroad for years. Maybe his thinking is a bit Westernized. A hug really means nothing to him! How about this: next time he does something like that, I’ll stop him.” “No need. You two are basically having sex, and it has nothing to do with me anymore. Are you free today? We can make an appointment at the divorce court.” Every word I spoke conveyed my firm decision to divorce her. She realized my resolve. She rushed outside, telling me, “William, you’re just jealous right now. Once you calm down, you won’t want to divorce me. I just got back from a business trip, and I have a ton of stuff to do at work. I don’t have time to go to the divorce court with you!” I knew she was deliberately trying to stall. She thought if she waited for me to cool off, for me to “understand,” everything would go back to normal. But she didn’t understand that the moment I saw her not resist Carter’s embrace, my heart had already died. First, I took our son to my parents’ house, asking them to look after him for a few days. My parents immediately knew something was wrong between Mia and me and quickly asked. I didn’t hide anything, explaining that I was planning to divorce Mia. My parents initially tried to persuade me, but they also knew how dominant and demanding Mia was. Faced with my persistence, they stopped pushing. Considering that Mia had paid for everything we ate and used over the past few years, I was prepared to leave with nothing. My next step, then, was to find a job. Luckily, I’d graduated from a prestigious university and had only been out of work for a year. So, from finding a job to getting hired, it only took me a day. That evening, I went home to pack my bags. I was carrying three suitcases, ready to leave, when I bumped into my wife getting off the elevator. And with her, was Carter.

“William, aren’t you being incredibly childish? It’s just an argument, do you really have to run away from home? Carter’s right here, I’ll let him explain!” Mia quickly gave Carter a look, and Carter began, “William, you’ve misunderstood. Hugs and kisses are just polite gestures abroad. You haven’t been overseas, so you wouldn’t understand.” “You don’t know, Mia cares about you a lot. She was distracted all day at the office.” “If I wanted to have something with Mia, it would have happened ages ago. There wouldn’t be any room for you. Mia has looked after me like a younger brother for years. We really have a great relationship, that’s why I hugged her.” After Carter finished explaining, Mia looked at me smugly. “William, we’re both right here. You believe us now, don’t you?” I was pretty surprised. I wondered if Mia was truly naive or just pretending to be. Did she really foolishly believe Carter was here to reconcile us? I thought I was calm and detached, but facing Carter’s manipulation, I still felt an urge to punch him! But I had to consider reality. My child was already losing his mother; I couldn’t let him lose his father too. I suppressed my anger, saying nothing, and walked around them. But Carter suddenly grabbed my arm from behind. If it weren’t for him, I believe my family wouldn’t have fallen apart. So I angrily shook his hand off. He then dramatically fell to the ground, as if I’d hit him hard. Mia quickly helped him up and angrily demanded, “William! Are you crazy? You actually hit Carter? You’re totally ungrateful! Apologize to him right now!” Before I could speak, Carter took Mia’s hand and said, “Mia, don’t blame William. He’s just upset. This is all my fault. If I hadn’t hugged you then, none of this would have happened.” “Carter, stop talking. I’m already grateful you came to explain for me. Besides, this isn’t your fault. If he hadn’t idly taken our son to the airport, he wouldn’t have seen anything, and none of this big mess would have happened!” I scoffed, “I get it. So, this is somehow my fault now.” “Isn’t it? We already had our roles: I handled things outside, you handled things inside. You just needed to take care of your responsibilities at home. What’s with the ‘surprise’? Don’t you think that’s childish? Anyway, William, let’s not talk about that. Apologize to him first!” I said nothing. Carter then turned to me again. “William, no need for apologies. You’ve hit me, you’ve probably calmed down now, right? Don’t argue with Mia anymore, just go home.” The two of them, working together in perfect sync, subtly turned me from the accuser into the accused. It was the first time I’d felt physically and emotionally disgusted by someone. I didn’t want to explain, nor did I want to look at them for another second. I picked up my luggage and resolutely left Mia’s place. “William, hitting Carter in front of me today really made me lose face.” “We both made mistakes in this situation. Apologize to Carter, and we’ll let this go.” “I’ve given you a way out. It’s up to you if you want to take it!” After leaving Mia’s place, she sent me several texts in a row. I was relieved that she didn’t soften her tone. Because the harder her attitude was, the clearer my own mind became. Otherwise, I worried that when our son cried for his mom at night, I might change my mind. Later, I thought that Carter’s appearance might not have been such a bad thing after all. Because sometimes you need to go through pain to be reborn. I stopped contacting Mia, but she likely figured I’d taken our son back to my parents’ house. A few days later, she showed up at my parents’ house looking for me. From complaining to my parents to threatening me. “Mom and Dad, you know your family’s financial situation. If William wants to buy a house and car in this city on his own, he’ll need to work for at least thirty years. So you should persuade him to come back home with me.” “Mia, this is between us two. Don’t drag my parents into it.” “They’re your parents, so of course they should be involved in our affairs. How about this: if you don’t come home with me, then I’ll just stay here.” Mia told me confidently, clearly believing she had the upper hand. She thought that would leave me with no choice? She found my parents to persuade me, but I could do the same with hers. Because when Mia and I first got married, her parents already didn’t think much of me, labeling me a leech and a sugar baby. Especially after I’d been out of work for over a year, they looked down on me even more. They’d even secretly advised Mia to divorce me; I’d unintentionally overheard their phone calls. So when I called them and said Mia was staying at my parents’ house, begging me not to divorce her, they absolutely lost it right then and there. Mia’s father yelled into the phone, “William, if it weren’t for my daughter, would you be living this kind of life? You’re useless, you have no money. Only my foolish daughter would have fallen for you!” “My daughter is out there earning money to support the family, and you, a lazy sugar baby, dare to talk about divorce with her?” “Remember this: “my daughter” is dumping “you”! Put Mia on the phone!” Mia’s parents reacted like I’d stepped on their tail, then they tore into Mia, scolding her. In the end, she reluctantly left my parents’ house. After she left, my parents also tried to persuade me, saying that in all our arguments, Mia had never backed down. This time, she must really know she’s wrong and wants me to give her another chance for our son’s sake. Honestly, I wavered. Because I truly thought my wife would calmly accept my divorce request, believing it would mean no one would bother her about Carter anymore. So, a few days later, I used the excuse of going back to pick up some things, wanting to see how she was living. After all, we’d lived together for five years. It was impossible to say there were no happy memories from those years of shared intimacy. Returning to the house I’d lived in for five years, a wave of inexplicable sadness washed over me. I sat on the couch for a long time, wondering if I should wait for her to come home and have a proper talk. But very quickly, I gave up on that naive idea. In the bathroom, I saw two toothbrushes.

The greatest sorrow is a dead heart; even death itself is secondary. The two toothbrushes I saw in the bathroom shattered my last illusion. In the following days, I focused on my work. During this time, Mia contacted me many times, but I ignored all her calls and texts. However, it’s a small world. News of me starting at a new company quickly reached Mia. That day, as I was proofreading documents, a colleague told me a beautiful woman was looking for me at the entrance. Sure enough, it was my wife. After so many days of cold war, I thought she had come to her senses and agreed to divorce. But to my surprise, as soon as we met, she threw herself into my arms. Her body was still soft, but her face looked terrible, with particularly prominent dark circles under her eyes. Yet, I no longer believed it was because of me that she hadn’t slept well. Those two toothbrushes explained everything. “Honey, please, stop this drama, okay? Come back home with me! These past few days without you, I can’t eat, I can’t sleep.” “I keep forgetting to pick up packages, and I don’t even know how to pay the utility bills anymore.” “I miss you, I miss our son. Just come back, and we can discuss anything else.” Mia’s eyes were tear-rimmed, but faced with her show of weakness, my only response was a cold laugh. “Mia, save your crocodile tears. You’re already living with Carter, did you think I wouldn’t know? How can you live with Carter and still shamelessly beg me not to divorce you? How do you even do it?” She asked, astonished, “Living together? When did I start living with him? It’s just that I’ve been feeling down these past few days, and he was worried something might happen to me, so he… he stayed at our place to keep me company. He chatted with me, I cooked for him, that’s all it was. You really shouldn’t overthink it!” “Enough. I’m not interested in your stories. Mia, you’re a boss, for goodness sake. Don’t cheapen yourself like this and become a laughingstock. Divorcing you is a decision I’ve deeply considered. If you’re just here to persuade me not to divorce, then please leave.” “William, no matter what you say, I will never divorce you! Because I love you, my life can’t be without you!” Mia’s words made my heart tremble for a moment. “I used to want to hear you say those three words, but you always called me childish and lectured me that love isn’t about words, it’s about actions. So, I won’t listen to what you say; I’ll only look at what you do.” “My love for you has been completely consumed by your endless lack of boundaries; there’s nothing left. “And your ‘love’ for me, wasn’t really love. It was just a habit of being taken care of by me. Actually, you could solve this problem by hiring a housekeeper. Alright, I have to work. Please leave now.” As we talked, more and more people gathered around. Some people even recognized Mia. She didn’t like being gossiped about and pointed at, so she had to leave our office. I was called into her office by my boss, Kaitlyn. After hearing what happened, she looked at me with a hint of sympathy. “While you shouldn’t deal with personal matters at the office, this isn’t your fault. Alright, you can go. Just be more careful next time.” For years, I’d been emotionally manipulated by Mia, living a very suppressed life. Suddenly having a woman who was so understanding and compassionate made me feel an urge to cry. Outside, a storm raged, but my heart was calm. I thought, after hearing my firm words, Mia wouldn’t bother me anymore. It wasn’t until I finished work that I realized she was still waiting for me at the entrance. Seeing me come out, she ignored the pouring rain and ran straight to me. She told me to get in the car, and she’d drive me home. She let the rain drench her, but I wasn’t falling for her ploy to gain sympathy. “No need. I’ll take the bus home.” I walked around her, opened my umbrella, and got on the bus. She frantically drove after the bus, but during rush hour, and with the roads slick from the rain, she got into a car accident. Finally, following a call from the police, her parents and I were summoned to the traffic police station. Carter also came with her parents.

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After scandalous photos of Julian Maxwell, the scion of a powerful New York family, and his new girlfriend, Lily, leaked, everyone was waiting for me to make Lily disappear — or worse. So, at the cruise party, he made a grand declaration, protecting his new love. “Anyone who dares touch a hair on Lily’s head, I’ll break their hand.” I wasn’t looking to settle scores with Lily. All I wanted was the key to the safe containing my mother’s ashes, as compensation for his infidelity. Julian seemed conflicted, but Lily already had the key. She tossed it into a snake pit, specially prepared to satisfy the wealthy guests’ twisted amusement. “Seraphina, Julian said all the cards and house keys are mine now. If you really want this key, go pick it up yourself.” In the snake pit, dozens of snakes writhed together, flicking their tongues, eerie and disgusting. They all thought I wouldn’t dare. But I didn’t hesitate; I plunged my hand straight into the pit. Julian’s expression was grim, and a flicker of panic crossed his eyes as he watched me. Even as my arm bled from the bites, I didn’t flinch. No one knew that at the same time the scandalous photos were exposed, I’d received a message from my father: “Bring your mother, and I’ll give you a chance to come home. You have one day. Miss it, and our father-daughter relationship is over.”

My family and the Maxwells had a generations-long feud, constantly tearing each other apart. My parents had kept me so sheltered. That’s why, even after Julian Maxwell’s dramatic rescue — and knowing exactly who he was — I still fell hopelessly in love with him. It was simply because I believed I’d find a love like my parents’ — one of unwavering devotion and support. When my father found out, he furiously kicked me out of the house. Julian took me in. My mother, while looking for me, tragically died in a car accident. Julian snatched my mother’s body, claiming it was so I’d have something to remember her by. But after the cremation, he locked her ashes in a safe, using them to force me to stay by his side. With nowhere to go and no skills to support myself, I became Julian’s kept woman. Every aspect of my life — my clothes, food, shelter, and transportation — required Julian’s approval. Meanwhile, my father, devastated by my mother’s death, lost interest in work, and our family’s fortunes dwindled daily. I’d tried to go home and visit my father, but every request was denied. He even assigned bodyguards to me around the clock to prevent me from leaving on my own. Everyone said he was protecting me, but I knew he was just watching my every move. Yet, despite his obsessive control, Julian treated me incredibly well, showering me with lavish attention, making me the envy of everyone. Even when I angrily tore up one of his hundred-million-dollar contracts, he, a man who always put work first, would just praise me for it. A sharp sting in my arm jolted me from my memories. My hand was deep inside the snake pit. The disturbed snakes began to writhe, coiling around my arm one by one. Their sharp fangs pierced my flesh, expressing their displeasure at my invasion. I’d been pampered since childhood, my body delicate and unused to hardship. The pain instantly flooded my brain. I pushed through on sheer willpower, continuously searching inside the pit. Just as I felt I was about to touch it, Julian suddenly pulled my hand out, then immediately ordered the snake pit to be eliminated. Everyone at the party could see he was taking revenge on the snakes for my injured arm. They whispered amongst themselves that Julian still loved me most, he just made a mistake men often make. But the next second, Julian lashed out at me, full-on. “In the three years you’ve been with me, haven’t I put you on a pedestal? Is it not enough? To reduce yourself to this state, all for a safe key?” That wasn’t just a safe key; it was my mother’s ashes, my hope of returning home. He grabbed the first-aid kit, crudely treating my snake bites while scolding me. “You should be thankful these snakes weren’t venomous, or not even a miracle could save you!” Ignoring my wounds, I looked at the snake pit. It was a bloody mess. The snakes were dead, and the key was buried beneath their disgusting bodies. My eyes welled up. I had, in fact, asked him for the key before. But he wouldn’t give it to me, saying he was afraid I’d leave him once I had it. He claimed he was madly in love with me, and everything he did was out of fear I’d abandon him, including preventing me from visiting my father and keeping me from my mother’s ashes. Julian, who was always so powerful, felt insecure with me, and that made me feel incredibly guilty. I thought I wasn’t showing him enough love. So I became even more dependent on him, just to make him feel my love, and in doing so, I completely lost myself. And now, he had so casually given the key to Lily, even letting her toss it into that filthy snake pit. My arm was numb, and so was my heart. I let out a heavy sigh, turning back to the man I’d loved with my life for three years. “If you hadn’t pulled my hand out, I would have touched the key.”

“Seraphina, I’m so sorry.” Lily gave me a tearful glance, her eyes red, as if *I* had been the one to bully her. She cried as she approached the filthy snake pit, her hand trembling as she reached in and pulled out the grimy key. Lily offered me the key. “I never thought you’d actually put your hand in. I just wanted to play a harmless prank.” The key was right there! I yanked my hand free from Julian’s grasp, trying to snatch the key. But just an inch away, Julian moved faster, pressing Lily’s hand down, preventing her from giving me the key. He loomed over me, his gaze chilling. “Seraphina, you’re so desperate for that key. Is it to leave me?” In the three years we’d been together, Julian had demanded I become solely his possession. Before Lily appeared, I thought it was a sweet burden. But it wasn’t until I saw how he interacted with Lily that I understood what true love was. He pampered Lily just as he had pampered me, but he didn’t clip her wings; instead, he let her freely enjoy her youth. While I, like a forgotten wife at home, waited day and night for him to return. That was a normal relationship. Perhaps Julian didn’t love me at all; maybe he just wanted to conquer me because our families were rivals. “Seraphina Davis, I’m talking to you,” Julian called out, his face dark. I snapped back to reality and fired back, “You can give the key to a third party, but not me? I’m your girlfriend.” The guests at the party recoiled, fearful of getting caught in the crossfire. No one had ever dared to speak to Julian like that before; I was the first. In the past, I had been incredibly obedient to Julian. Even if he said one plus one was three, I would discard all reason and believe he was right. So, not only were the guests surprised, but Julian himself seemed taken aback. But quickly, a sarcastic smile twisted his lips. He suddenly gripped my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. “Seraphina Davis, what happens between Lily and me is none of your business. Daring to contradict me in public — do you think your place in my heart is so high? It seems I’ve spoiled you too much, letting you run wild.”

Julian had indeed spoiled me in the past; there was no denying that. But I had never been unruly. My family could no longer contend with his; why did he keep involving me? If he’d found true love, why keep me around as an inconvenience? As these thoughts surfaced, tears uncontrollably streamed down my face, tracing a path across my cheek to Julian’s hand. The man’s body stiffened. He instinctively wiped away my tears. His sudden tenderness made me sob uncontrollably. “Please,” I choked out through tears, “I’m begging you, just give me the key.” One day was such a short time. My father was a man of his word, and I was terrified of losing him. The tenderness in Julian’s eyes vanished instantly, replaced by cold indifference. At that moment, Lily sidled up, wiping the tears from Julian’s hand, and glanced at me. “Seraphina, Julian is so good to you. Why are you fighting with him? If you’re not heartbroken, I am.” I pulled at the corners of my mouth, a bitter, humorless smile. Lily and I were like a stark contrast right then; her gentle sweetness was the perfect way to win a man over. When Julian looked at me again, he was back to his icy self. “You’re a buzzkill,” he said, waving a dismissive hand. “Take her away and lock her up.” A murmur ran through the crowd. They all believed that I, the woman Julian had once put on a pedestal, was about to fall from grace. I thought so too. I was locked in the cruise ship’s storage room. It was spacious, but once the door closed, it plunged into complete darkness. In that confined space, my claustrophobia flared. I scrambled to the door, frantically pounding on it. I wanted to call for help, but my breathing was too ragged for me to make a sound. Outside, I heard the guards scoff, “Just a piece of trash, thinking she’s still somebody important? She’s making such a fuss.” They kicked the door a few times as a warning, annoyed by my noise. I stopped pounding. Not because I gave up, but because I had no strength left. The snake bites on my hands hadn’t been treated, and combined with my claustrophobia, I was incredibly weak. I don’t know how much time passed. But when I woke again, the light filtering through the cracks was bright. It was the next day. I didn’t have much time; I had to get the key before the cruise docked at noon. I tried pounding on the door again. This time, the door opened, and Julian walked in. He narrowed his eyes, observing my disheveled state. He reached out, gently wiping the dust from my face, then personally treated the wounds on my arm. For a moment, I almost saw the person who had once cherished me so carefully. But the next second, his words dragged me back to the cruel reality. “Silly Seraphina, your phone is monitored. I know your father sent you a message.” “But what can I do? I’d rather you cut ties with your father than leave me.” “For you, I’m willing to extend the cruise party. We’ll only return tomorrow.” Julian’s words stunned me. He knew everything! I spoke with difficulty, “Julian, does what you said a year ago still count?” On my birthday a year ago, Julian had made me a promise. He promised me a lifetime with just one person, only ever having eyes for each other. If he ever broke that promise, he’d give me his life. Julian, instead of getting angry, smiled faintly. He pulled out a knife he carried, placed it in my hand, and pointed to his chest. “Seraphina, stab me right here. My life is yours.”

I raised the knife, aiming for his heart. But the tip stopped just before his chest. My hand was trembling uncontrollably; I couldn’t move it another inch. Julian’s smile deepened. He gently pried open my fingers and took the knife. “Seraphina, I knew you couldn’t do it.” Julian paused, then added, “The outcome will be a lifetime with just one person, but the journey there might not be.” He told me to stay in the storage room and calm down, completely forgetting about my claustrophobia. Two years ago, Julian had an enemy. That enemy kidnapped me, holding me hostage in a dark basement and torturing me. By the time Julian arrived, I was bruised, bleeding, and unconscious. That’s when my claustrophobia began. It was fair to say that if it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have it. Watching him walk away decisively, I felt utterly ridiculous. The storage room door clicked shut once more. I huddled in the corner, clinging to life by the sliver of light filtering through a mouse hole. How could a person live such a pathetic existence? I used to be a pampered heiress, cherished by my parents. The cruise ship indeed did not dock on time. I heard many guests quietly complaining that it was delaying their plans. But not a single person dared to question Julian directly. My heart slowly sank. No hope. I had no home. In the afternoon, the storage room door opened. I thought Julian had come. But the person who appeared before me was Lily. Lily wore a gorgeous princess gown, looking radiant and polished. My disheveled state clearly satisfied her. So much so that she was willing to reveal a secret she’d kept for three years. “Not long ago, when Julian was drunk, he mentioned your mother’s death.” “Your mother wanted to take you away and argued with him, but he found her annoying and killed her right there.” “He even showed me photos from the scene — it was all bloody, so terrifying.” I listened in confusion. Julian had told me my mother, speeding and distraught while looking for me, drove off a winding mountain road and died in the accident. As if sensing my doubt, Lily purposely pulled out a photo. She had secretly taken it. Blood stained my mother’s white dress on the ground; the wounds were so horrific, I could even see organs. I froze. The truth was, three years ago I hadn’t seen my mother’s body, only touched a cold urn once. Everything about my mother’s death, I had only heard from Julian’s lips. Lily’s mouth curved slightly upward. She savored my pain, then threw the safe key at my face. “Seeing how pathetic you are, I’ll give you the key. A safe holding a dead person’s ashes, it’s bad luck for me to keep.” I finally had the key. It wasn’t even evening yet; I still had time. But we were surrounded by ocean. After leaving the cruise ship, how would I get back to shore? Lily had clearly only come to deepen the conflict between Julian and me. She dismissed the guards, also giving me a chance to escape. As soon as Lily left, I secretly slipped out of the storage room. I headed to the stern of the ship. It was the least crowded area. As despair washed over me, I spotted a lifeboat nearby. Maybe I could use the lifeboat to leave. Rather than waiting for death, I would take action. I didn’t want anything more to do with the man who killed my mother. I’d take a gamble. Even if I died in the ocean, it would be better than living a dazed, meaningless life by Julian’s side. I boarded the lifeboat and set off in the direction we had come from. Half an hour later, the guards, on their own accord, went to Julian to confess their failure. “Mr. Maxwell, Seraphina is gone. An empty lifeboat was recovered from the sea.”

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Liam Thorne cut off my grandma Rose’s special medication to force me into being a mobile blood bank for his first love. He slammed a blood draw needle onto my face, his eyes icy: “Chloe Miller, Vanessa is injured and needs a transfusion. You share her blood type. Consider it an honor. Don’t forget, your grandma’s life is still in my hands!” He was convinced I would beg like a dog, just as I had for the past three years, all for Grandma. I looked at him calmly, rolled up my sleeve, and said, “Draw it.” He thought I had given in. He turned to brag to his friend: “A fake is just a cheap imitation. Give her a little something, and she’ll be grateful. She can never compare to Vanessa.” He didn’t know that yesterday I had found out Grandma passed away six months ago. He had deceived me for half a year with a dead body and forged medical records! After the last blood draw, I vanished from his world completely. Later, at a top charity gala in New York, he cornered me against a wall, eyes red, voice trembling: “Chloe, I messed up. Please, come back, okay?” A lean, strong hand wrapped around my waist. Julian Thorne, Liam’s powerful uncle, looked down at him with a sneer: “Liam, is that how you speak to your aunt-to-be?”

“Chloe Miller, get over here.” Liam Thorne’s voice cut through the hospital room door, carrying command and undisguised disgust. On the bed, Vanessa Scott leaned into soft pillows, her face pale, but her eyes gleamed with triumph. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms, and walked in. A fresh “Voluntary Blood Donation Agreement” was tossed at my feet. The papers scattered across the cold floor, just like my dignity had been trampled for three years. “Sign it. Vanessa just returned from abroad, she’s not used to it yet, and she had a minor accident. She’s severely anemic. You have RH-negative blood, like her. From now on, you’ll stay on standby and serve as her private blood bank.” The words “private blood bank” came out so casually, but they cut into my heart like a dull knife. Vanessa coughed lightly, leaning into Liam’s arms, her voice soft: “Liam, don’t be like that. Chloe has been with you for three years. Drawing her blood makes me feel bad. What if she can’t handle it…” “What could she not handle?” Liam sneered, glancing at me as if I were worthless trash. “She’s lived off me for three years, eating my food, wearing my clothes. A little blood is nothing. It’s her good fortune to give blood for you.” He paused, his gaze turning dark and fixed on me: “Pick it up. Sign it.” I stood still, looking at the agreement on the floor. “Liam, I’m a person, not a blood bag.” My voice was quiet but steadier than I expected. Liam clearly hadn’t expected me to resist. For three years, I had mimicked Vanessa’s style, tone, even her smile, trained by him to be the perfect substitute. Anger flashed in his eyes. He strode over, grabbed my neck, and slammed me against the wall. “Chloe Miller, you’re getting bold. Daring to talk back to me?” The air in my lungs was squeezed out. My face turned red, but I kept my eyes wide open, staring at him. “Don’t forget, your grandma is still in my private hospital! Every dose of her special medication—I paid for it. Without me, she would be dead long ago!” Grandma. Those two words hit my weak spot. I closed my eyes, one tear sliding down my cheek, landing on Liam’s hand. He flinched as if burned, let go, and pulled out a handkerchief with disgust to wipe his hand. “Don’t act like a victim. You’ll sicken Vanessa. Sign it now and go to the draw room.” I bent down and picked up the agreement. The pen scratched across the paper, each stroke cutting into my heart. After I signed, a nurse walked in and pushed the thick needle into my vein. Crimson blood flowed through the tube, draining from my body. I watched that bright red and suddenly realized that three years of delusion had been a complete joke.

I became Vanessa Scott’s exclusive blood bank and full-time caretaker. She wanted not just my blood but also my dignity. To please her, Liam Thorne allowed all her petty torments. “Chloe Miller, this soup is too hot. Are you trying to scald me to death?” Vanessa hurled a bowl of steaming soup onto the back of my hand. My skin immediately turned red, blistered, and seared with pain. I bit my lip and refused to cry out. “What? Annoyed?” Vanessa raised an eyebrow, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Chloe, you’re nothing but a cheap imitation. Liam keeps you only because your face resembles mine a little and for your rare blood type. Now that I’m back, you are not even fit to tie my shoes.” I looked at her coldly: “Ms. Scott, if you are so noble, why do you need a ‘fake’s’ blood? Aren’t you afraid of getting dirty?” Slap! Vanessa backhanded me across the face. “Who do you think you are, talking to me like that!” The hospital room door swung open, and Liam Thorne walked in, carrying a thermos. Vanessa’s eyes instantly welled up with tears. She clutched her wrist and threw herself into Liam’s arms, whimpering. “Liam, my hand hurts so much… I just said the soup was a little hot, and Chloe got angry at me and even pushed me…” Liam Thorne’s face darkened. He strode to my side, didn’t even glance at my red, scalded hand, and slapped me hard. The force sent me sprawling to the ground, and I tasted blood. “Chloe Miller, are you trying to die?! Who gave you the guts to lay a hand on her!” I covered my face and looked up at the man I had loved for three years. Three years ago, a heavy snow trapped him in a car accident. It was I who dragged him from the wreckage, walked and carried him for over ten hours, pulling him back from death. I lay in the hospital for half a month from severe frostbite. But when he woke up, he only remembered the faint jasmine scent he had noticed while unconscious. And Vanessa Scott, she loved jasmine perfume. Vanessa took credit for saving his life and became his beloved first love. I, with my family’s fall and Grandma’s illness, was forced to sign that humiliating agreement for her medical expenses. I once believed that even a heart of stone could be melted. Now I realized Liam Thorne’s heart wasn’t stone; it was ice laced with poison. “Liam, if I told you I didn’t push her, that she spilled the soup on herself, would you believe me?” I asked, my voice hoarse. Liam looked as if he’d heard the funniest joke: “You think I’d believe a lying wretch like you? Vanessa wouldn’t even step on an ant, how could she frame you!” He kicked over the trash can. “Since you like throwing tantrums, clean all the restrooms on this floor today. If you don’t finish, your grandma’s medication for today is stopped!” I lowered my gaze and hid all my emotions. “Fine. I’ll go.” I dragged my exhausted body, cleaning tools in hand, through the restrooms. Cold water soaked into my wounds, piercing pain. That night, leaning against the bathroom wall, I took out my phone and dialed Grandma’s doctor. “Dr. Evans, how is Grandma’s health recently? I’d like to visit her.” There was a long silence on the other end, so long that dread grew in my heart. “Ms. Miller…” Dr. Evans’s voice was filled with panic and guilt. “Mr. Thorne instructed that the elderly lady is in a sterile ward and cannot have visitors…” “Dr. Evans, you can’t hide it from me anymore.” I took a deep breath and forced myself to stay calm. “Today at the nurses’ station, I saw Grandma’s payment list. There was a cremation fee.” On the other end, there was a clatter, as if something had dropped.

“Ms. Miller, please let me explain…” Dr. Evans’s voice trembled violently, confirming my suspicions. “Tell me the truth.” My voice was ice cold. “What exactly happened to my grandma?” Under my relentless questioning, Dr. Evans finally broke down. “Ms. Miller, I’m so sorry! Six months ago, the elderly lady had sudden heart failure… she didn’t make it. Mr. Thorne said if I told you, you would leave him. He made me forge medical records to make it seem like she was still alive and sent you bills every day… The elderly lady’s body was cremated six months ago. Her ashes are stored in the cemetery outside the city…” Boom! It was as if a thunderclap exploded in my mind, shattering all my reason and emotion. Six months ago. Grandma died six months ago. And I, like a fool, for a loved one who was no longer in this world, had been subservient to Liam Thorne, letting him trample my dignity, even draining my blood to save his first love! Liam, how could you be so cruel! You didn’t just kill; you destroyed my spirit! I hung up, biting my lips hard until I tasted metal, barely suppressing the scream in my throat. Tears hit the cold floor silently. In that moment, the Chloe Miller who loved Liam Thorne died completely. What lived was a demon crawling out of hell. The next day, I appeared in Vanessa Scott’s hospital room on time, as usual. My face was paler than yesterday, but my eyes were eerily calm. Vanessa was drinking soup. Seeing me enter, she sneered. “Oh, the restrooms are clean? I thought you would be stuck in there forever.” I walked to her bedside, picked up the water pitcher from the table, and poured her a glass of warm water. “Ms. Scott, please drink some water.” She glanced at it disdainfully: “I don’t drink plain water. I want freshly squeezed pomegranate juice from that popular place across town. Go buy it for me.” That place was over twenty miles away. Rush hour, round trip would take at least three hours. I nodded: “Okay, I’ll go.” I turned and walked out. I didn’t go for the juice. Instead, I hailed a cab to the cemetery. In that cold niche, I saw Grandma Rose’s name. The old woman in the picture smiled so kindly, as if she were still calling my pet name: “Chloe, remember to eat on time.” I knelt before the grave, but I didn’t cry. My tears had all dried up last night. I reached out, gently touching the urn, my voice a soft murmur: “Grandma, I’m sorry I’m late. Don’t worry, I won’t let any of those who hurt us get away.” After the cemetery, I went directly to a private detective agency. I pushed all the savings I had accumulated over the past three years across the table. “I want everything on Liam Thorne and Vanessa Scott. Especially Vanessa’s three years overseas—every detail.” When I came out of the agency, it was dark. I returned to the hospital. Liam Thorne was sitting on the sofa outside the room, his face dark. Seeing me, he stood up abruptly, rushed over, and grabbed my collar. “Chloe Miller, where have you been?! Vanessa asked you to buy juice, and you disappeared all day! She fainted from anemia this afternoon and urgently needed a transfusion!” I looked at his furious face and suddenly laughed. A laugh full of sarcasm and desolation. “Liam, I went for the juice, but there was traffic, and I accidentally spilled it, so I had to go back and buy another one.” I casually spun a lie. “You dare to laugh!” Liam’s hand shot up, ready to strike me again. I didn’t dodge, just looked at him coldly: “Hit me. If you kill me today, Vanessa loses her mobile blood bank. Can you afford that?” Liam’s hand froze in midair. He looked at me, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. He seemed to realize I had changed. I was no longer the timid substitute, but a rose covered in thorns. He lowered his hand and snorted: “Consider yourself lucky. Get in there and give blood!” I followed the nurse into the draw room. Crimson blood flowed out again. I watched the bright red and silently counted down in my mind. Liam, take it. Every drop of this blood, I will make you pay for in the future.

After giving blood, I leaned weakly against the corridor wall, my vision flickering with black spots. Just then, a tall, imposing figure stopped in front of me. “Is this how Liam Thorne treats a woman?” A deep, magnetic voice, tinged with amusement and authority, came from above. I looked up. What met my eyes was a chiseled, handsome face. He wore a tailored high-end suit. Behind his gold-rimmed glasses were deep, unfathomable eyes. Julian Thorne. New York’s undisputed prince, the current head of the Thorne Group, and Liam’s uncle. Though only five years older than Liam, his methods were ruthless and decisive, a force no one in New York dared to provoke. I straightened up and bowed slightly: “Mr. Thorne.” Julian’s gaze fell on my pale face, then swept over the dense needle marks on my arm. “Your name is Chloe Miller?” “Yes.” He chuckled softly, pulling a fine silk handkerchief from his suit pocket and offering it to me. “Wipe away that cold sweat. Anyone seeing you like this would think we Thornes abuse animals.” I didn’t take the handkerchief, just looked at him coldly. “Mr. Thorne, get to the point. I need to go back and serve your nephew’s wife.” A hint of appreciation flickered in Julian’s eyes. “You have backbone. Much more than that whining Vanessa Scott.” He put his handkerchief away, his tone casual yet laced with danger. “Chloe Miller, do you want revenge?” My heart leaped. I looked up sharply. How did he know? Julian seemed to read my mind, a knowing smile on his lips. “Liam Thorne hid the news of your grandmother’s death, keeping you as a blood bank. What he did was despicable. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Liam has been overreaching lately, trying to get his hands on the Thorne Group’s core businesses. I don’t like disobedient nephews.” He leaned in slightly, his warm breath fanning my ear, a dangerous whisper. “Work with me. I’ll help you ruin them. After it’s done, I’ll send you abroad and ensure you live comfortably.” I looked into his deep eyes, knowing this was like playing with a tiger. But I had nothing left to lose. A person with nothing to lose fears no one. I gritted my teeth and spat out one word: “Deal.” Julian straightened up and adjusted his cuff. “Tomorrow night, come to the Royal Palace Hotel penthouse suite. We’ll discuss the details.” With that, he turned and left, leaving behind his tall silhouette. I watched his retreating back, a cold smile on my lips. Liam, your good days are over.

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After I caught Ethan and Chloe cheating, I handed him a divorce agreement. He sat with his head bowed, then tore it up after a moment of struggle. “Ten days. In ten days, I’ll send Chloe far away, she won’t be in our lives anymore.” He said it without waiting for my reply, then turned and left the house. So, for those ten days. Ethan took her white-water rafting, mountain climbing, bungee jumping, skydiving—they did all sorts of thrilling things. Until the evening of the ninth day. After packing all my luggage, I accidentally received a video call from my past self, ten years ago. “You’re really me from ten years in the future!” Her bright, sunny face was excited. “So, Ethan and I are married with kids, right?!” A flicker of bitterness crossed my eyes. I walked straight to the balcony. I aimed the camera at Ethan and Chloe, tightly embracing below, unable to part. “This is the result.” Her eyes widened, as if struck by lightning. “This can’t be…” My voice was weary, as if all my strength had been drained. “Sophia, please, don’t marry him.”

On the other end, tears streamed down her face. Sadness and shock poured from her eyes as she kept mumbling. “How could this happen…?” I couldn’t answer her, because even I didn’t know. All I could say was, “You won’t be happy after you get married, Sophia. Promise me, okay?” She wiped away her tears, looking at me with bloodshot eyes. “But he’s not here with me right now. He went to Europe to find an orthopedic specialist to help cure me.” I froze. Right, I almost forgot. At that time, due to a stage accident, both my legs were severely injured, making it difficult to even stand. Ethan, who was even more upset than me, stayed up all night, every night, by my side. He changed my dressings and massaged my legs, sometimes for an entire night. By chance, we learned that there might be an orthopedic specialist in Europe who could treat me. So he left without hesitation. But now… I couldn’t help but touch my leg; it was healed, but we had drifted apart. Even more ironic: “Do you know who the woman downstairs, Chloe, is?” She shook her head, her eyes red like a rabbit’s. A deep pang of pain twisted my lips. “She’s the orthopedic specialist’s granddaughter.” Her breathing hitched. She covered her mouth, whimpering. “So, Ethan fell in love with someone else on his way to save me?” I shook my head. “I don’t know. Maybe it wasn’t love back then. They reconnected two years ago—which would be five years from your current time.” We fell silent. Just then, the sound of the smart lock unlocking came from the door. I instinctively put my phone behind my back. Ethan looked over. His gaze lingered on my movements, but he didn’t ask anything. His eyes were red at the corners, and he looked somewhat dejected. “Are you satisfied?” A sarcastic curve played on his lips. “I sent her away.” I looked at him expressionlessly. In reality, my hand, hidden behind my back, was digging into my palm, stinging with pain. “Satisfied…” “Ethan, is this marriage just my responsibility? Am I the only one who needs to make an effort?” He yanked off his tie and tossed it casually onto the couch. Leaving a terse “Don’t be unreasonable,” he pushed past me into the bathroom, slamming the door shut. My entire body stiffened. After a long while, I slowly took out my phone again. Sophia on the screen was already in tears. “That’s not the Ethan I know, it’s not…” I couldn’t cry. I wanted to release it all like her, but I blinked and blinked, no tears came, just a dry ache. “Maybe people just change.” Just as I was about to grab my luggage and leave, a rumble of thunder outside heralded a torrential downpour. My phone also received a flight cancellation notification. I sighed. Looks like I couldn’t leave tonight. So I picked up my luggage again and pushed open the guest room door. “You… you’ve been sleeping in separate rooms?” She asked cautiously. My hands paused, then I hid the bitterness in my eyes. “Yeah, we’ve been sleeping separately for almost a year.” She kept sobbing. “But at my time, Ethan can’t sleep unless he’s holding me…” My eyes trembled slightly. It had been so long, so long I’d almost forgotten. The Ethan from before had severe sleep issues; only when I was by his side could he sleep peacefully. So we were never apart. I said softly. “He’s found someone else who can help him sleep now. That Chloe is very skilled in medicine.” After a long silence, Sophia looked at me with red eyes. “Three days. Ethan will be back in three days. And I’ll use these three days to completely give up on him.” I nodded. “Okay.”

The next morning, when I opened the door and walked out, Ethan was already making breakfast. He acted as if nothing had happened. “Up? Come eat breakfast.” I glanced at the food on the table and said, a little tired, “I’m allergic to eggs.” His hand, putting mayonnaise, froze. Then he tossed the toast in front of me into the trash. “I forgot. Go eat out then.” I hummed in response. Just as I was about to turn, Ethan said from behind me, “Don’t you think we’re acting strangely?” “Sophia, we’re like strangers.” I met his hazy eyes and let out a mocking, humorless laugh. “No, strangers at least don’t butt heads. We’re worse than strangers. But whose fault is that? Mine?” The air fell silent. We faced each other, neither willing to back down, neither willing to be the first to lose. Not long after. His phone ringing broke the stalemate. “Okay, Grandpa,” he said expressionlessly. “Sophia and I will be there on time.” After hanging up. He rubbed his temples tiredly, his expression complex as he looked at me. “Let bygones be bygones.” “Tomorrow is Grandpa’s 80th birthday party. Let’s go together; don’t let him see anything suspicious.” I sighed silently. “Okay.” Then I turned and went to the cafe downstairs, my phone still on video call. Sophia hadn’t spoken, so I broke the silence first. “What are you thinking about?” She looked a little lost. “I just never imagined that the future me and Ethan would reach a point where we have nothing to say to each other.” “No sharing, no expressions of love, just blame and resentment.” I paused, saying nothing. The plane tree leaves in the villa area were scattered all over the ground by last night’s strong winds and heavy rain. They crunched underfoot. It was like the sound of him carrying me when I was sick, but now everything had changed. The cafe owner saw me. “Ms. Sophia, back again? The usual? Coffee and a sandwich, no eggs because of your allergy, right?” I smiled. “That’s right.” Even the owner remembers my egg allergy, but Ethan forgot. The next day, he came to pick me up for Grandpa’s estate. I sat in the passenger seat, staring silently out the window at the street view. Suddenly, Ethan spoke. “You know Chloe saved Grandpa’s life back then, right?” I turned to look at him. “What are you trying to say?” He pressed his lips together. “So Chloe is also coming to Grandpa’s birthday party. I didn’t invite her, Grandpa did.” I didn’t know what expression to make. Because I wasn’t very surprised. Suppressing the suffocating feeling like my heart was being crushed, I said hoarsely, “Fine, I have no objections.” Anyway, Only three days left. In three days, the past Sophia will rewrite history. And we won’t have a future. Hearing that, He was stunned for a moment. Then, with an unreadable expression, he gripped the steering wheel tightly and finally said, “Good, no objections.” In my earpiece, Sophia was crying. I had grown accustomed to this cold way of interacting, and I had accepted the brokenness of our relationship. But I knew this was cruel for her. It was like falling from heaven to hell. “How could he do this to you…?” I couldn’t comfort her, I could only stay silent. Not long after. We arrived at the estate. Almost as soon as we got out of the car, a delicate figure rushed over from a distance. “Ethan…” “I thought we’d never see each other again.” She was crying too, and Ethan comforted her. He completely disregarded the onlookers, gently wiping away her tears. “Don’t cry. Since you’re back, I won’t let anyone send you away again.” I said sarcastically, “Do whatever you want. I won’t object. Don’t make me sound like some executioner breaking up lovers.” Chloe pouted, a flicker of disdain in her eyes. Ethan’s brows furrowed, seemingly puzzled. I understood what puzzled him: how could I be so generous? I looked away. It was nothing; I had simply come to terms with it.

People around me were subtly sizing me up. Some with pity. Others with a hint of schadenfreude, enjoying the spectacle. I pretended not to notice any of them, walked straight into the main house, and handed Grandpa his birthday gift. “Grandpa, I wish you good health.” He looked at me with affection. “Good, Grandpa received it.” Ethan lingered a step behind, standing shoulder to shoulder with Chloe. They looked like an affectionate couple. Grandpa paused. Then he took my hand and Ethan’s, placing them together. “Is it because you’re giving me a great-grandchild soon?” Ethan and I froze simultaneously. I was the first to pull my hand away, saying under Ethan’s somewhat stunned gaze, “Grandpa, Ethan and I…” The man beside me cut me off, then told Grandpa, “Don’t worry, Grandpa, we’ll get to it soon.” Grandpa roared with laughter. Ethan, however, pulled me to the backyard. His expression was a little dark, with an inexplicable irritation. “What do you want to say?” “To tell Grandpa the truth: that we’re getting a divorce, and there won’t be any children.” I said expressionlessly. His thin lips tightened, brows furrowed. “Why are you bringing up divorce again? Didn’t we agree to let it go? Sophia, can you stop making a scene?” I was a little confused. “Since we’ve reached a point where we detest each other, why don’t you just marry Chloe, the woman you love?” His breathing instantly grew heavy. “Detest? I never…” “Ethan!” Chloe, from a distance, interrupted him, making the tension even heavier between us. She looked at me pitifully, biting her lip. “Sophia, can you stop using Grandpa to threaten me?” I frowned. “What do you mean?” Chloe looked utterly wronged. “Are you trying to say today that I broke up you and Ethan? You know Grandpa isn’t well.” “I couldn’t just watch you mess things up, so I had to compromise and leave Ethan. Is that your plan?” I was astonished. Then came an uncontrollable sense of absurdity, a sneer. “You watch too much TV.” Who would fall for such a clumsy attempt at sowing discord? “Sophia.” Ethan, standing nearby, suddenly spoke in a low voice. “Is that true? You’re threatening me again.” My lips moved. He believed her… I wanted to say something to defend myself, but facing his questioning gaze, the words died in my throat. In the end, it just became, “Believe what you want.” I turned and walked away, not even looking at his somewhat complex expression. In my earpiece, Sophia was comforting me. “Don’t be sad.” A strange ache welled up in my nose. “I’m not sad. So, Sophia, on your end, he’ll propose to you after your surgery is successful. Don’t accept him.” This time, she hummed without hesitation. “I know. Don’t worry.” I breathed a sigh of relief. Not long after, at the birthday party, Grandpa cut the cake and then went to his room to rest. Without him there, the people at the dinner table openly mocked me. “Look at some people, they’ve been challenged right in their own home, yet they’re still timid like a quail.” “Oh, you also have to consider who Chloe is. She’s Ethan’s sweetheart, you know.” I listened to it all. My hand gripping the forks tightened abruptly, then loosened. I looked up with a cold chuckle. “You’re so brave, yet isn’t your older brother raising his illegitimate son?” Her face instantly turned ugly. “You! Sophia! What does our family business have to do with you?!” I retorted expressionlessly, “Then what do my affairs have to do with you?” She choked on her words. The atmosphere at the dinner table became awkward. Ethan interrupted us in a deep voice, “Sophia, that’s enough.” I turned my head blankly. Only then did I notice his tie was the same color as Chloe’s. His stance was clear. That’s why they felt emboldened to mock me so brazenly. The strength in my hand gripping the forks suddenly left me. I put them down and murmured, “Ethan, you have the least right to criticize me.” His breathing grew heavy. And I rose from the table, the emotions I had suppressed came flooding out the moment I left the mansion. Tears streamed down my face, an endless flow. The mansion was quite a distance away. I walked and walked, never had this road felt so cold and lonely. I looked up at the sky; the sun was bright, but I felt no warmth at all. Just then, A choked voice in my earpiece spoke. “Sophia, Ethan is back with the doctor.”

“Sophia, I’m back. Don’t worry, I’m here for you.” Listening to the voice on the other end of the phone, I felt like ages had passed. It had been too long. So long that I myself had forgotten how many years it had been since I heard Ethan’s voice so gentle and those two words, ‘Sophia.’ Past-Sophia responded with an indifferent hum. “Thank you.” Young Ethan sounded a little hurt. “Sophia, why are you suddenly thanking me?” Sophia said nothing more, and he didn’t press her, just urged the doctor to arrange the surgery quickly. After a while. She pulled her phone out from under the covers. “I’ll leave as soon as the surgery is over. I won’t be part of that proposal.” I nodded, feeling a sense of release. Returning home, Ethan followed close behind, with a tearful Chloe by his side. He seized my hand, furious. “Did you tell Grandpa about Chloe and me?!” My wrist ached. Years ago, I’d injured my wrist saving him in a car accident, leaving a lasting issue. Now, he’d completely forgotten. I shook him off and met him with indifference. “I wouldn’t stoop to talk about your sordid affairs. You might not feel shameless, but I’m too proud to be associated with it.” His pupils contracted slightly. Then he sneered. “Too proud?” “You’re always so self-righteous. If you’d just told Grandpa, couldn’t he have sent Chloe away for you? Why pretend?” Chloe, beside us, was practically breathless with tears. A noticeable handprint marred her face. “Sophia, I’m begging you. I just want to be with Ethan. I don’t even care about a title!” With that, she fell to her knees in front of me with a thud. “I’m begging you!” Before I could react, Ethan grabbed the woman from the ground and pulled her up, frowning with concern. Then he looked at me. “Why are you pushing her so hard?” “She never fought you for anything. She just quietly stayed by my side, never competing, never demanding.” He shook his head as he spoke, his eyes filled with disappointment. “How did you become so aggressive over the years? You’re nothing like the Sophia I used to know.” My heart constricted. A flicker of bitterness and mockery crossed my eyes. “I’ve changed, but what about you?” “Haven’t you changed? You were always the first one to change between us.” In my earpiece, Young Ethan’s voice kept echoing. “Sophia’s surgery has been scheduled. You’ll be going into anesthesia soon. Don’t be scared, I’ll be here the whole time.” “When you come out, we’ll get married.” “No matter if your legs heal or not, I’ll always be with you. If they don’t, I’ll be your crutch for life.” His tone was both choked and gentle. Yet it grieved me more than the heartless indifference of the Ethan standing before me. My eyes reddened. The man before me paused, then his tone softened considerably. “If you apologize to Chloe, I’ll drop it.” I closed my eyes. “Apologize…” “On what grounds? What right does she have? Ethan, just get out.” “Sophia!” His tone grew heavy, his chest heaving with anger. “You said it! If I leave, I won’t come back!” I stopped looking at him. Ethan gave me a long, hard look. “You said it. Chloe, let’s go!” The room fell silent. I let out a bitter laugh, then packed my things and left, heading straight for the airport. More than ten hours later. The Sophia in my earpiece suddenly burst into tears. “Sophia, I sent him away. We’re completely over.” I felt a sense of relief, memories of him steadily being erased from my mind. At the same time, Ethan, who was processing documents at the office, suddenly felt a wave of dizziness and collapsed to the floor. When he woke up, Grandpa and Chloe were sitting beside him. “Grandpa? What happened to me?” He looked around, feeling a bit lost, then pressed his lips together and asked stiffly, “Where’s Sophia? She’s not coming even though I’m sick?” Just then, Grandpa smacked him hard. “Your wife, Chloe, is right here!” “You brat, still thinking about a classmate you haven’t seen in ten years!”

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After I was diagnosed with stage IV stomach cancer, I booked a one-way ticket to the Swiss Alps. My only wish was to die peacefully in the snow. But I never expected to run into Ethan Miller, my ex-husband of three years, on the summit’s cable car. Three years had passed, and he’d had the tattoo of my name removed from his wrist. As for me, I’d lost all my hair and could only hide my ostomy bag beneath a bulky winter coat. The woman beside Ethan, Chloe Peterson, asked: “Who is she?” Ethan looked at me, his voice flat: “My ex-wife.” Then he added, “Chloe is my wife now. We got married when you were pregnant.” He looked into my eyes when he said it, as if expecting a reaction. But I was long past the point of having the strength for hysterics. I just smiled calmly. “That’s nice. I wish you and your family all the best.” “No thanks, it’ll hurt if you press on the tube.” I looked at the cashmere scarf Ethan offered, my voice barely a whisper. The cable car swayed violently in the strong winds halfway up the mountain. The automated announcement played robotically. “Due to extreme wind speeds at the summit, the cable car will temporarily slow down. Please hold onto the handrails.” Chloe hugged the child in her arms tighter. She frowned, waving a hand in front of her nose. “Ethan, why does this cabin smell so strongly of medicine and antiseptic?” Ethan instinctively shielded his child behind him. He glanced at me, then pulled back the scarf he’d offered. His gaze lingered on my winter coat. Perhaps he thought I’d gotten fat, or just looked bad. His tone was flat, his instructions tinged with a sense of entitlement. “Rory, let Leo sit for a while. It’s his first time in Switzerland.” I was sitting by the window. It was the only spot in the entire cabin shielded from the wind. After a few seconds of silence, I slowly stood up, holding onto the cold metal railing of the cable car. My movements were sluggish. The safety bar was pressing against my ostomy bag and drainage tube. Even a slight shift would pull at the still-healing wound in my abdomen. Ethan watched my slow movements, his brow furrowed. He simply thought I was being difficult. “It’s been three years. No need to take it out on the child.” His voice deepened slightly, laced with a lecturing tone. I didn’t argue. I just moved little by little to the windy spot. Cold air seeped in through the cracks, chilling me to the bone. The cable car jolted violently again. My footing slipped, and I stumbled forward. Ethan instinctively reached out, grabbing my wrist. Even through the thick sleeve of my winter coat, he sensed something was off. His hand stiffened. “How did you get so thin?” He asked in a low voice, a flicker of surprise, which he didn’t even realize, flashed in his eyes. I gently pulled my hand away. Hiding my wrist in my sleeve. “I’m bundled up for winter, you must have misseen.” My tone was calm. He didn’t press further. Chloe had tugged at his sleeve. “Ethan, Leo says he feels a little carsick.” Ethan immediately turned, pulled a thermos from his pocket, and bent down to comfort the child. I leaned against the corner of the cabin, watching the family of three. A sudden cramp seized my stomach. I remembered the first year we were married. I used to suffer from stomach problems all the time back then. One night, I was curled up in bed, drenched in cold sweat from the pain. Ethan, without even bothering to put on his shoes properly, scooped me up and rushed me to the emergency room. He held my hand tightly in the hospital corridor. “Rory, every time you hurt from now on, I’ll be there with you.” But in that same year. Chloe got pregnant with his child. Five years of betrayal, dismissed by him with a casual “I was under too much pressure.” “Auntie, why don’t you have hair?” A child’s innocent voice broke my reverie. Leo peeked out from Chloe’s arms, staring at me curiously. “Are you sick like Grandpa?” Chloe’s face changed, and she quickly clapped a hand over the child’s mouth. “Leo, don’t say silly things.” Ethan turned, his gaze falling on my head, covered by a wool beanie. His eyes held a searching look, and a hint of annoyance. I wasn’t embarrassed. I just lightly touched my bald scalp through the hat. “Because I wanted to see the snow.” I looked out at the vast white snow-capped mountains. “So it didn’t have time to grow back.” A cable car attendant came over, reminding us not to move around freely. He glanced at my pale face. “Ma’am, you don’t look so good. Do you need us to call the medical station at the summit?” “No, thank you.” I shook my head. As we exited the cable car, the announcement warned visitors about icy conditions underfoot. But as soon as I took a step, a warmth suddenly spread across my side. I knew it. The baseplate of my ostomy bag had peeled up from the freezing temperature.

I avoided the crowd exiting the cable car and quickly walked towards the summit’s visitor center. The hem of my winter coat pressed tightly against my side. The warm, seeping sensation became more and more obvious. The wind on the mountaintop was fierce, cutting right through you. The visitor center was packed with people seeking shelter from the cold. A long queue snaked in front of the hot water dispenser. I found the accessible restroom and locked the door. There was no shelf or counter inside. I could only hang my backpack on the doorknob, using my numb, reddened hands to search for my medical kit. My fingers were stiff and unresponsive. As I peeled off the skin barrier, I accidentally tugged at the skin around my drainage tube. Cold sweat instantly beaded on my forehead. Patients with ostomies fear low temperatures the most when traveling. The adhesive on the baseplate tends to fail in sub-zero temperatures. I took a deep breath, cleaning the area little by little with a wet wipe. Then I placed a spare baseplate onto my cold abdomen. The entire process took almost half an hour. I packed the used medical waste into a sealed bag. When I pushed open the restroom door, Ethan Miller was standing in the corridor outside. He was waiting for his child to use the restroom. He saw me emerge, pale-faced, clutching a bag of trash. Chloe walked over from the other side, holding the child’s hand. She openly frowned. “Why is she still so weird?” Chloe lowered her voice, but just enough for me to hear. “She always used to hide away alone, and now she monopolizes the restroom for so long.” Ethan didn’t contradict her. He walked towards me, his gaze sweeping over my slightly hunched waist. “If you’re not feeling well, don’t push yourself to come to a place like this.” His tone sounded concerned, but the underlying message was one of blame. “Coming all the way to the snow mountains to suffer isn’t good for anyone.” I looked at him. He didn’t know that I had no more hospitals to go to. I wasn’t here to suffer. I was here to tie up loose ends for myself. “Got it.” I walked around him, tossing the sealed bag into the medical waste bin at the end of the corridor. Ethan went to the nearby drink stand to buy hot drinks. He instinctively came back with two cups. One he handed to Chloe, the other he brought towards me. “Sugar-free hot soy milk.” He offered me the paper cup. My stomach used to be sensitive, and I couldn’t drink coffee or milk tea. He would always buy me sugar-free soy milk. But this time, I didn’t even glance at it. “I can’t drink any of that now.” Most of my stomach had been removed. Even a small amount of liquid food would cause severe nausea. Ethan’s hand froze in mid-air. He seemed unprepared for my complete refusal. Chloe smiled and walked over, naturally taking the cup of soy milk. “Perfect, I’m thirsty. I’ll drink it.” She linked her arm through Ethan’s, leaning on his shoulder as if to stake her claim. Ethan didn’t push her away. Watching this scene, I remembered when we first got married. He had failed at his startup, and we were crammed into a basement apartment. When the pipes froze in winter, I used a rice cooker to heat water for him to wash his hair. I would be in so much pain from my stomach that I’d break into a cold sweat, yet I’d still save the only bowl of hot soup for him. Back then, he held me and said, “Once I make money, the first thing I’ll do is take you to the Swiss Alps for skiing.” The Swiss Alps were never just a random choice for me; they were our shared promise. Now he was indeed here, but with a different person by his side. “Miss, are you alright?” Martha, the cleaning lady at the visitor center, walked over. She handed me a cup of warm plain water. “I saw you were in there for quite a while. Drink some hot water to warm up.” “Thank you, Martha.” I took the cup, and finally, my palms had a little warmth. The park broadcast began to repeat its announcement. “Due to high winds at the summit today, parts of the North Slope boardwalk are temporarily closed. Please be aware of your safety.” I put down the water cup and walked towards the exit. From behind, I heard Chloe’s coy voice. “Leo, don’t get too close to that lady, she smells like a hospital.” Ethan didn’t say anything. I didn’t look back, just crumpled the one-way ticket in my pocket tighter.

I didn’t take the park’s shuttle bus. Instead, I took the local transfer bus down the mountain alone. A thin layer of snow covered the streets of Pine Creek Town. Following my phone’s GPS, I found a storefront. The sign above the door read: Hospice Support Center. This wasn’t a hospital. It was a place where local community organizations lent medical equipment to seriously ill tourists and seniors. Pushing open the door, the room was pleasantly warm. The volunteer, a girl with glasses, approached me. “Hi, what can I help you with?” She handed me a registration form. “I’d like to borrow a portable oxygen concentrator.” I gave her my ID card. “And a pressure relief cushion, please.” The girl looked at my face, then at the faint outline around my waist. She didn’t ask any questions, just efficiently processed my request. “Please fill in the emergency contact section.” She pointed to a blank line at the bottom of the form. I held the pen, my hand pausing for a long time. A scene from the day of my divorce three years ago flashed in my mind. That day, I accompanied my mother for a follow-up gastroscopy. Outside the glass window of the pediatric clinic, I saw Chloe. She was skillfully filling out her child’s birth information. In the father’s column, Ethan Miller’s name was written. The child’s birth date perfectly aligned with the first year of my marriage with Ethan. I stood in the corridor, holding my mother’s gastroscopy report. It felt like my life had been simultaneously condemned by two pieces of paper. Later, I confronted Ethan. He didn’t deny it. “I was under too much pressure back then, and Chloe and I had a few drinks.” He sat on the couch, his voice terrifyingly rational. “Then she got pregnant, and I couldn’t just let her handle it alone.” I asked him, what about me? He was silent for a long time, then said something that disgusted me to this day. “Rory, you’ve always been strong.” He took my understanding nature for granted, using it as a reason to sacrifice me. He even offered me compensation. A house, shares, savings—anything, as long as I agreed to divorce. He thought money could solve betrayal. I pulled my thoughts back, and wrote a single word on the form: None. The volunteer looked at the word, frowning slightly. “If you’re traveling to the mountains alone, it’s best to have someone who can be reached.” She reminded me softly. I smiled, placing the pen back on the table. After leaving the aid station, I went to the pharmacy in town. “I’m really sorry, the specific model of ostomy baseplate you usually use is out of stock.” The store assistant, Sarah, searched through the shelves, apologizing to me. “We only have this generic type; the adhesive might not be as strong.” “That’s fine, I’ll take two.” I paid the money. Reality is always like this; even being sick doesn’t allow you to have things your own way. The small hotel room was quiet at night. I sat at the small table, spreading out my medication boxes. Only six painkillers were left. Outside the window, the snow was falling even harder. I looked at my blurred reflection on the glass. Hairless, gaunt. I set a time for myself. Before sunrise tomorrow. To reach the birch forest beyond the closed trail. There would be no tourists there. And no one would see my pathetic state.

At four in the morning, Pine Creek Town was still dark. I put on my wig and tied on a thick scarf. My medical kit, painkillers, and the last bit of cash were all packed into my backpack. I didn’t go to the front desk to check out. I just left a note on the table. “Please don’t call the police. You can keep the deposit.” When I pushed open the hotel door, the cold wind, mixed with snowflakes, hit me in the face. Mrs. Gable, the hotel owner, was an early riser, preparing to make porridge. She saw me walking alone out of town, then went to check my room. The note on the table and the oxygen concentrator’s deposit slip made her face change. She immediately called the community aid station. The aid station checked my registration record and found no emergency contact. They could only contact the park’s rescue center as per regulations. The rescue center used my phone’s linked medical emergency card to retrieve an old emergency contact. That number, I hadn’t called in three years. Ethan Miller received the unfamiliar call while having breakfast with his child at the hot springs hotel. Chloe was carefully peeling an egg for Leo. The voice on the other end was urgent. “Excuse me, do you know Rory Hayes?” “She headed alone towards the closed forest trail early this morning, it’s very dangerous there due to high winds.” Ethan’s first reaction wasn’t concern. He frowned, a hint of impatience in his voice. “What is she stirring up now?” He thought I was using this extreme method to get his attention. Just like when I used to throw tantrums and run away from home. Chloe stopped peeling the egg. “Ethan, Leo has a snowmobile reservation at ten.” She reminded him softly, trying to redirect his attention. Ethan hesitated for a few seconds. But he still stood up, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair. “I’ll be right back.” Chloe pulled at his sleeve. “Are you going to abandon us to go find your ex-wife?” For the first time, Ethan didn’t explain himself to her. “She’s out there alone in the snow.” He only said that, then strode out of the restaurant. I walked along the edge of the birch forest, the snow already past my ankles. With every step, the pulling pain in my abdomen intensified. I remembered the first time I had a stomach hemorrhage after our divorce three years ago. That night, I was writhing on the ground in pain, and I called Ethan’s number. But it was Chloe who answered. “Ethan’s bathing the baby. Whatever it is, you can call back tomorrow.” She hung up after saying that. In the end, I took a taxi to the emergency room by myself. The doctor asked if I had any family. I said no. From that day on, I never called him again. I leaned against a birch tree and swallowed two painkillers. From the distance, I heard the barking of a dog in the snow. Officer Ben, a rescue worker, scanning the registration photo sent by the aid station, suddenly stopped. He turned and looked at Ethan Miller, who was following behind. “Mr. Miller, you truly didn’t know?” Ethan’s heart sank abruptly. “Know what?” The rescue worker handed him his phone. On the screen was the medical condition note I had uploaded when borrowing the portable oxygen concentrator. [Stage IV Stomach Cancer, abdominal metastasis, post-ostomy surgery, with drainage tube, warning of hypothermia and infection.] In the howling wind and snow, Ethan stood frozen.

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When I was sixteen, my father broke his spine at a construction site. The surgery would cost two hundred thousand, but after scouring the house, we only scraped together three thousand eight hundred dollars. Clutching my withdrawal application, I reached the school gates when Summerville stopped me. She was the quietest top student in our class, sitting right behind me. That day, she pressed a bank card into my hand. “Get your dad treated first. I’ll cover the cost. Don’t even think about dropping out.” I told her I couldn’t repay such a sum. She simply said, “I’m not asking you to repay it. Just get into college.” Later, she sent me living expenses every month, with a note that only read: ‘Don’t give up.’ My father survived, and I got into a top university. She never once mentioned the money. Ten years later, I owned three companies with a billion dollars in assets. And Summerville’s name appeared on a court’s defaulters list. “Former shareholder of a tech company, due to joint liability on a guarantee, owes four million two hundred thousand, listed as a defaulted debtor.” I put down my phone and pulled the bank card, long since filled with money, from my drawer. This time, it was my turn to knock on her door.

“What’s with all the banging? Are you trying to kill me?” The rusty security door was yanked open from inside, its hinges shrieking in protest. It wasn’t Summerville who opened the door, but a bald man, bare-chested with a thick gold chain around his neck, reeking of cheap tobacco. I stood outside, my gaze sweeping past his shoulder into the room. The living room was a mess; beer bottles littered the floor, the sofa cover was ripped to shreds, and “PAY UP” was spray-painted in red on the wall. “What are you looking at? Who are you looking for?” The bald man impatiently flicked his cigarette ash. “Summerville,” I said. “Who are you?” The bald man looked me up and down, his eyes lighting up as they stopped on the Patek Philippe on my wrist. “A relative of the debtor? Perfect. She owes our boss one point two million. Are you here to pay it for her?” I ignored him, turning to glance at Casey behind me. Casey had been my assistant for five years — tough and quiet. He stepped forward, pushed the bald man aside, and strode into the house. “Hey, you damn—” The bald man started to curse, but Casey twisted his wrist and pressed it down. The bald man instantly dropped to one knee on the broken glass, gasping in pain. I stepped over the trash on the floor and walked to the bedroom door. It was empty. The closet doors hung open, not even a hanger left inside, and the bed frame was covered in a thin layer of dust. She had moved out at least a week ago. “Where is she?” I turned, looking at the bald man. “How would I know!” The bald man gritted his teeth. “The court already seized this apartment.” “Our boss forcibly pried it open last week to use as a temporary dormitory. She ran faster than a rabbit!” I didn’t speak. My chest felt heavy, like it was stuffed with wet cotton, a suffocating ache. Four million two hundred thousand. To the current me, it was just half a month’s profit from two of my company’s production lines. But for an ordinary person, it was an insurmountable weight that could utterly crush their spirit. A memory suddenly flashed in my mind. That winter, my sophomore year of high school, Pittsburgh had its first snowfall. I couldn’t afford dorm fees and was kicked out by the dorm supervisor. At night, I could only sneak into the utility room under the school stadium’s bleachers. That night, I had a high fever. My body was ice cold, like I was submerged in freezing water, and I didn’t even have the strength to stand up. Then, the iron door of the utility room was pushed open. Wind and snow poured in. Summerville stood at the doorway. She wore an oversized school uniform, her nose red from the cold, holding a glass bottle wrapped in a towel. She didn’t ask why I was sleeping there, nor did she say anything to pity me. She just walked over and pressed the scalding hot bottle into my arms. Then she took out two packets of fever reducers and two steaming hot savory pastries from her pocket, placing them beside me. “Eat it all,” she said, then turned and walked back into the snow. I held that glass bottle all night. It burned my chest red, but it saved my miserable life. I always remembered that warmth. “Mr. Frank,” Casey said in a low voice, releasing the bald man. “Just had someone check the street cameras. Miss Summerville… she went to the South District.” The South District, a notorious lawless district in Pittsburgh, a gathering place for slums, dodgy businesses, and homeless encampments. I shoved my hands into my pockets, my fingertips brushing the worn, old bank card. “Let’s go.” “Where?” Casey asked. I gave the shivering bald man on the floor a cold glance. “South District. Turn the place upside down. Find her for me.”

By the time the car drove into the South District, it was completely dark. Half the streetlights were out, and the air was thick with the mixed scent of cheap takeout food and backed-up sewers. A Maybach stopping in a place like this was like wearing a tuxedo into a pigsty—extremely conspicuous. But I didn’t care. Casey held his phone, pointing to a greasy fast-food joint ahead, its sign too grimy to read. “Mr. Frank, the informant says Miss Summerville has been washing dishes here for the past few days. Sixty a day, meals included.” Sixty a day. I closed my eyes, my jaw clenched tight. Pushing open the car door, I walked straight towards the fast-food place. Before I even entered, I heard a sharp scream. “Are you blind?! This is my brand-new, limited-edition dress!” A woman’s voice came from inside the restaurant. It was familiar, with that deliberately affected, saccharine tone. I stopped outside the glass door. Through the greasy glass, I saw Summerville. She wore a ill-fitting grey waterproof apron, her hair simply tied back with an elastic band, her face pale as paper, her jawline sharp from weight loss. She was squatting on the floor, holding a rag. On the ground was a spilled puddle of mushroom soup, and standing in front of her was a flashily dressed woman. Ulysses, Summerville’s college roommate, and an employee she had personally mentored and promoted. “Ulysses, don’t get so angry. She didn’t do it on purpose.” A man sat nearby, with slicked-back hair, wearing a poorly tailored custom suit, his legs crossed. Wilson, Summerville’s ex-fiancé. “Wilson, I just can’t stand it!” Ulysses leaned into Wilson’s arms, pouting. “I’m usually not one for drama, but today is our company’s IPO anniversary. And she, a dishwasher, spills soup on my leg? Isn’t she doing this on purpose to annoy me?” She deliberately emphasized the word ‘dishwasher.’ Wilson patted her hand, then looked down at Summerville, who was still squatting on the floor. “Summerville, it’s not like I haven’t told you.” He sighed, his tone filled with nauseating condescension. “You insisted on shouldering that debt back then. Why put yourself in this situation?” “Look at you now. You don’t look like a top university graduate anymore.” Summerville didn’t look up. She meticulously wiped the soup from the floor. Her movements were mechanical, numb, as if she couldn’t hear what they were saying. I watched her slender back, another memory unbiddenly flashing in my mind. During the second semester of my senior year, five hundred dollars in class funds went missing. I was the poorest kid then, and everyone pointed fingers at me, accusing me of theft. Our teacher called me into the office and told me to empty my pockets. I didn’t. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my flesh. Just as everyone was convinced I was a thief, Summerville pushed open the door and walked in. She slapped a physics competition registration form onto the teacher’s desk. “He didn’t steal it,” she said, pointing to the time stamp on the form. “From noon to one PM, he was helping the physics teacher organize lab equipment. Security footage confirms it.” Then she turned to face the pointing students, her voice not loud, but incredibly clear. “Being poor doesn’t make you a thief. If you don’t have proof, shut up.” After school that day, she called out to me by the sports field. No comfort, no sympathy. She just looked into my eyes and said one sentence. “Frank, never bow your head.” But now, the girl who once told me ‘never bow your head’ was squatting on a greasy floor, bowing her head in front of a truly disgusting man. “Where’s the owner?! Call your owner out!” Ulysses was still screaming relentlessly. The owner, sweating, rushed out, bowing profusely. “How dare you hire such an untrustworthy dishwasher? Fire her! Or I’ll make sure you get reported every single day!” The owner looked uncomfortable, then turned to Summerville. “Miss Summerville, you see… how about you take your pay and leave today?”

Summerville finally stood up. She untied her waterproof apron, placed it on a nearby table, and offered no excuses, no pleas. “Alright.” Her voice was incredibly hoarse. Casey whispered behind me, “Mr. Frank, should I go in and clear the place?” “Go investigate.” I stared at the couple inside the glass door, my eyes colder than the night wind outside. “Find out exactly how Wilson got her to shoulder that four-point-two-million-dollar debt.” Summerville left through the back door. I didn’t follow immediately. I needed to first understand who had pushed her to the edge of the cliff. Casey was highly efficient. The next morning, a thick stack of documents lay on my desk. I opened the first page, my fingers involuntarily tightening, knuckles turning white. So that was it. What a dirty trick. Three years ago, Summerville and Wilson partnered to start a tech company. Summerville was responsible for core technology R&D, while Wilson handled external relations and finance. A year ago, Wilson claimed he’d landed a big project that required a loan to expand production capacity. He presented a joint liability agreement for Summerville to sign. “What were his exact words?” I stared at the photocopy in the document. Casey impassively recounted the recorded conversation: “He said, ‘Summerville, I’m your fiancé. Would I ever screw you over?’” “‘This project is a surefire profit. Once we clear this hurdle, we’ll get married.’” I sneered. “And the result?” “As soon as the money was deposited, Wilson transferred the funds to a shell company under various pretexts.” Casey turned a page. “The legal representative of that shell company is Ulysses.” I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. No wonder Ulysses was so arrogant in the fast-food place yesterday. So she was using Summerville’s hard-earned money to play the socialite in front of her. “The company’s funding dried up, and Wilson immediately filed for bankruptcy liquidation,” Casey continued his report. “Because Miss Summerville signed an unlimited joint liability agreement, all the debt fell onto her shoulders. Four point two million.” Wilson walked away clean, re-emerging as a ‘senior partner’ in Ulysses’s company. Meanwhile, Summerville became a defaulter, forced to work odd jobs under the radar. “There’s one more thing, Mr. Frank.” Casey hesitated. “Speak.” “Miss Summerville’s mother was diagnosed with end-stage kidney failure last month. She’s currently at Third Hospital.” Casey placed a payment reminder on the desk. “This afternoon, if the twenty thousand dollars for dialysis isn’t paid, the hospital will stop her medication.” Twenty thousand. Again, it was because of twenty thousand. Time seemed to form an absurd, closed loop. My freshman year of college, my father’s follow-up rehabilitation treatments. The hospital issued an ultimatum. I was eighteen thousand short. I even considered selling my blood back then. Then, a twenty-thousand-dollar transfer hit my account. The sender left no name, only ‘Don’t give up’ in the memo. I knew who it was, of course. That month, I secretly returned to Pittsburgh once. From a distance, I saw Summerville in the cafeteria, eating plain noodles for a whole month. I leaned back in the leather chair, my heart feeling like it was being ripped out. Ten years ago, she ate plain noodles so I wouldn’t go hungry. Ten years later, to pay for her mother’s dialysis, she washed dishes in grime and was still treated like dirt. “Frank,” I mumbled my own name. “You’re such a damn failure.”

Ten years. I’d had countless opportunities to come back and find her. But I was afraid I wasn’t successful enough, afraid I couldn’t stand before her. I waited until I achieved success, but she had fallen into hell. “Get the car ready.” I stood up, grabbing the car keys and the old bank card from my desk. “To Third Hospital.” The hospital corridor in the afternoon reeked of disinfectant. As soon as I stepped out of the elevator, I heard an extremely harsh laugh. Following the sound, I saw Summerville leaning against the wall next to the hospital billing department, clutching a payment slip. Wilson and Ulysses stood opposite her. “Summerville, why do you have to be so stubborn?” Wilson, hands in his pockets, feigned a look of deep regret. “Her mother’s illness can’t wait. All you have to do is sign that declaration to fully relinquish your shares, acknowledging that I was the primary developer of all those technical patents.” He pulled a stack of cash, probably ten thousand dollars, from his pocket. “I’ll consider this money a loan to you. You don’t have to repay it. Consider it me being generous for old times’ sake.” Summerville stared at the stack of money, her fingers trembling. “Wilson.” Her voice was soft, as if a breeze could scatter it, but every word was full of pain. “You stole those patents from my computer when my mother was critically ill.” “You transferred assets, engineered a scheme to saddle me with debt, and now you’re even trying to cut off my mother’s last chance at life.” She looked up, her once clear eyes bloodshot. “Aren’t you afraid of facing consequences?” Wilson’s face changed slightly, clearly embarrassed to be called out in public. But he quickly recovered, putting on his indifferent sneer. “Summerville, you need to speak with evidence,” he lowered his voice, his eyes cold and sinister. “It’s in black and white, your signature is on it. You’re a defaulter now, who’s going to believe you?” “If you don’t sign this waiver today, your mother will be kicked out of her hospital room tomorrow.” “Wilson, why are you wasting your breath on her?” Ulysses swayed her hips, reaching for Wilson’s arm. “I told you, Summerville is just too strong-willed. What’s wrong with compromising?” She turned to Summerville, her face a mask of feigned innocence and grievance. “Summerville, don’t look at me like that. I’m doing this for your own good.” “Wilson painstakingly pulled this money from the company’s funds. Hurry up and take it to pay the bill. Don’t make your mother wait.” Hah! The man was a jerk, and the woman was a total bitch. Summerville didn’t look at her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she reopened them, her gaze held a quiet, stark resolve. She slowly raised her hand, reaching for the stack of money. For her mother, she was ready to bend her back, something she’d never done before. Just as her fingers were about to touch the banknotes, a hand reached out from the side and fiercely grabbed her wrist. Summerville’s entire body jolted. She turned her head, startled. I looked at her, at her gaunt face, at the desperation that hadn’t yet faded from her eyes, and a volcano of rage erupted in my chest. I pulled her behind me, turned, and looked at Wilson. “This money,” I said, my voice low, laced with extreme, suppressed fury, “I’ll pay it for her.”

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