It was our fifth year together. My mother had given me a strict ultimatum. Either marry him, or break up. And I had brought up marriage three times. The first time, Oliver said: “Sasha fell at home. I need to take her to the hospital for a checkup. We’ll talk about this when I get back.” The second time, he said: “The limited-edition collectibles Sasha wants are launching in stores today. I have to get in line early. Don’t rush me.” The third time, I looked him dead in the eye and asked him directly: is it marriage, or a breakup? He stared at me in silence for a long time. “Stop making a scene. We will get married, but not right now. I promised Sasha I wouldn’t get married until she finds a boyfriend.” Having finally received the answer I needed, I stopped arguing. I picked up my phone and called the jewelry store I had contacted weeks ago. “You can cancel the custom men’s wedding ring. I don’t need it anymore.” He had no idea that I had given him three chances to choose me. Now that those three chances were gone, I would never wait for him again. 1 After finalizing the cancellation with the jeweler, I called a secondhand appliance buyer. When the man arrived and saw the items I was selling, his jaw dropped, his booming voice echoing through the hallway. “Young lady, are you sure you don’t want your fridge, your TV, and your sofa? They all look practically brand new. Shouldn’t you discuss this with your partner first?” I shook my head. “There is no need. Just calculate the price. You can take everything today.” Seeing my determination, the man stopped asking questions and offered a fair price. Once we shook hands, a bright grin spread across his face. “These are massive items, miss. I can’t fit them all in my truck in one go. Do you mind if I haul them away in batches?” “That’s fine.” By the time Oliver came home from work, the movers were in the middle of carrying our television out the door. “What’s going on? Where are they taking the TV?” Oliver’s brow furrowed, his deep voice laced with confusion. “I sold it,” I replied simply, making no effort to hide the truth. “Sold it?” Oliver let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. “You sold the TV? What is Sasha supposed to watch when she comes over? You know how much she loves streaming her shows.” Before he could even finish his sentence, a thought seemed to strike him, and his tense brow relaxed slightly. “Actually, forget it. The old one was too small anyway, it was straining her eyes. Good riddance. I’ll buy a bigger one.” When I had first suggested buying a television, he had been entirely against the idea. We’re both busy with work, Gemma. Who has time to watch TV? It’ll just sit there collecting dust. But he had forgotten that I lacked any sense of security. Whenever he worked overtime, I was left entirely alone in this cold, empty apartment. The absolute silence terrified me. So, despite his protests, I had bought the television. I had hoped that whenever I felt lonely and afraid, the soft hum of the TV would act as a surrogate for Oliver’s presence. I never imagined that after buying it, the person who used it most wouldn’t be me, but his childhood friend, Sasha. I didn’t say a word. Oliver pulled out his phone and began browsing online. Once he placed the order, he looked up to offer a casual warning. “Make sure you don’t fight Sasha for the remote anymore. She’s still basically a child. Be the mature one and let her have her way.” That sentence. In the five years we had been together, I had heard it countless times. Whenever Sasha was around, nothing in this home belonged to me. I was always expected to yield. In the past, hearing those words would have triggered a massive argument. But now, I simply offered a quiet nod. “I know. I won’t fight her for it ever again.” Not just the remote. I won’t fight her for you, either. Hearing my compliance, a look of profound relief flashed in Oliver’s eyes. He let out a soft sigh. “Gemma, if only you had been this sensible in the past.” 2 In the past, the mere mention of Sasha’s name would send my emotions spiraling out of control. Like last year, when he took my birthday gift and gave it to Sasha. I had broken down, pointing a finger at him as I screamed: Sasha is the only person you care about! If you love her so much, why don’t you make her your girlfriend? That day, the look he gave me was colder than ice. In his eyes, I was nothing more than a hysterical, unreasonable madwoman. With deep disgust, he had muttered: Gemma, I view Sasha as a sister. Stop spewing garbage. Whenever I complained after that, he would simply say: A dirty mind sees dirt in everything. But he had no idea. I argued because I still cared. Now, my silence wasn’t because I had become “sensible.” It was because I had stopped loving him. “By the way, Sasha is attending a high school reunion tonight. Some of her old classmates always target her, and she can’t handle them alone. I need to go with her, so don’t wait up for dinner.” Without waiting for my reply, he walked straight into the bedroom to freshen up and change. My phone buzzed with a message from the appliance buyer. Miss Qiao, I’ve transferred the money for the TV. How about I transfer the payment for each item as we haul them away? I typed back a brief agreement. When Oliver emerged from the bedroom, fully dressed, I was busy packing the throw pillows, blankets, and plush toys from the sofa into a large trash bag. I looked at him. “These are all Sasha’s things. Should I put them in your room, or are you going to return them to her?” Every single one of these items had been bought by Oliver for her. She had once casually complained while watching a movie that the sofa felt too empty and barren. The very next day, Oliver had bought her favorite pink pillows and blankets, creating a cozy little corner dedicated entirely to her. Whenever I accidentally sat in her designated spot, his face would cloud over. The sofa is huge, Gemma. Can’t you sit somewhere else? Sasha has OCD, she hates seeing her things messed up. He would make me move, then meticulously fold the blanket and arrange the toys back in their exact positions. “Gemma, what are you throwing a fit about now? Those things were perfectly fine on the sofa. Why do you always have to look for trouble?” His voice carried a cold, suppressed irritation. “I sold the sofa. The movers are taking it tomorrow. You can do whatever you want with those things.” I set the bag down by his bedroom door, refusing to engage further. As I turned to go back to my room to get changed for dinner, Oliver’s dismissive scoff echoed behind me. “I told you that sofa was awful when you bought it. I’m glad you’re finally willing to sell it and get a new one.” “Don’t worry about buying the replacement. I’ll handle it. Sasha has a bad back, she can’t lie on a firm leather sofa. I’ll pick out something soft for her, otherwise she’ll be uncomfortable.” The only reason I had chosen a firm leather sofa was because he had told me it was better for the lumbar spine and neck. I had remembered every single word he had ever spoken. But he had never once kept my needs in his heart. I pressed my lips together, my voice barely a whisper. “Whatever you want.” It didn’t matter. I would be gone in a few days anyway. Whatever he bought had absolutely nothing to do with me. Shortly after Oliver left, I got changed and went out. I picked a restaurant that had rave reviews online. But when the hostess led me to my table, familiar laughter drifted from behind the decorative screen next to me. 3 “Sasha, you’re amazing! You actually bagged the golden boy of our high school. How long have you two been together?” “Yes! When is the wedding? Don’t forget to invite us to the celebration!” “I knew they would end up together! Back in school, Oliver was ice-cold to everyone, but he was always different with Sasha. It’s just like those romantic posts online, his eyes literally light up when he looks at her!” Hearing those two names, my feet froze. I instinctively glanced through the gaps in the screen. Oliver and Sasha had their backs to me. I couldn’t see their expressions, but I clearly saw Oliver carefully picking the bones out of a fish and placing the tender meat into her bowl. A collective gasp of envy erupted from the table. “Oh my gosh, Sasha, he is so attentive! I’m so jealous. If my husband had even half his sweetness, we wouldn’t be fighting every other day.” “Exactly! You are so lucky!” Basking in their admiration, Stella’s face glowed with pride, a smug smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “It’s nothing, really. Oliver just understands me perfectly. It’s no big deal.” Yes. Oliver understood her perfectly. A single glance from her was enough for him to know exactly what she wanted. If she wanted to watch a midnight movie, even if he was exhausted, he would instantly get dressed and drive her to the theater. If she wanted to hike a mountain, even though he had a severe fear of heights, he would swallow his panic to accompany her. Meanwhile, when I was burning with a high fever that eventually turned into pneumonia, begging him to take me to the clinic, he had shrugged me off. Sasha’s dog is missing, and she’s hysterical. I have to help her search. It’s just a mild fever, Gemma. You’re not going to die. Drive yourself. The memory brought back my mother’s words from earlier this year. Gilly, when your father and I started dating, he couldn’t wait to visit your grandmother’s house the very next day to ask for my hand. You and Oliver have been together for five years. Has he brought up marriage even once? If you keep wasting your youth on him, what are you going to do when you’re older and he decides to walk away? At the time, my thoughts had been incredibly naive. I had decided to give Oliver three chances. If he showed even a sliver of desire to build a future with me, I would have kept waiting. I had even contacted the jewelry store to pre-order our rings. But reality had delivered a stinging, humiliating slap to my face. When he told me he wouldn’t marry until Sasha found a boyfriend, I had asked him: What if she never finds anyone? After a long, heavy silence, he had replied: A marriage is just a piece of paper. As long as our relationship is stable, it doesn’t matter whether we have it or not. I understood his meaning perfectly. He was saying that as long as Sasha was single, he would remain single for her. In that single second, I realized how utterly pathetic our five years together had been. “Oh! Gemma? What are you doing here?” A familiar gasp cut through the air. I looked up to find Sasha standing right beside my table, staring at me in surprise. Hearing her voice, Oliver turned around. His eyes locked onto mine, his expression tightening instantly. He looked terrified that I might say something to ruin his performance. “Oliver, Sasha, do you know this beautiful lady?” one of their classmates asked. I looked at Oliver, curious to see what he would say. He slowly averted his gaze, his voice completely flat. “No. I don’t know her.” The words slammed into my chest, shattering the very last thread of affection I had left for him. I let out a soft, clear laugh. Looking at Sasha, I smiled. “Yes. I don’t know them. You must have mistaken me for someone else.” 4 Sasha playfully stuck out her tongue, quickly following our lead. “Ah, my bad. I got the wrong person.” She and her friends headed toward the restroom. Just then, my phone vibrated. It was a message from Oliver. I’m only here to help Sasha save face. Don’t overthink it. Once you’re done eating, wait for me there. We’ll head back together. The power is out at Sasha’s apartment complex, so she’s staying at our place tonight. It wasn’t a discussion. It was an explanation and an executive order, delivered with a twisted sense of charity. After all, whenever Sasha stayed over in the past, he had never once bothered to inform me beforehand. I didn’t reply to his message, nor did I wait for him. I booked a ticket for a movie that was about to start, bought a boba tea, and walked into the theater. Before long, Oliver sent another message asking where I was. I ignored it. When he called, I switched off my phone without a second thought. By the time I returned to the apartment after the movie, the living room was bathed in a warm glow. Oliver was patiently blow-drying Sasha’s hair while she sat in her silk pajamas. The scene was incredibly domestic and warm. It made me feel like an intruder who had accidentally stumbled into someone else’s happy home. “Gemma, you’re finally back! Where did you go?” Sasha was the first to notice me. She set Oliver’s phone down, blinking at me with forced innocence. “If you have the guts to ignore my calls and messages, you should have the guts to stay out,” Oliver said, not pausing his movements. He cast a sharp, mocking look in my direction. In the past, his biting words would have carved a painful wound in my chest. Now, I felt entirely indifferent, as if I were listening to a stranger’s empty chatter. Ignoring him, I walked toward the kitchen. The refrigerator was also mine, and I had already arranged to sell it. The moment I pulled the door open, the cool air hit my face. When I had checked the fridge this afternoon, it was practically bare. But now, it was stuffed to the brim with the specific milk and fruits that Sasha loved. Before I could even react, Oliver stepped up and slammed the fridge door shut. “Everything in there was bought for Sasha. She likes to have a stockpile. If you want something, go buy it yourself tomorrow.” “The fridge is mine,” I said, looking at him calmly. “If you want to keep it, I can sell it to you at a discount.” He let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “This apartment is mine. Are you sure you want to count pennies with me like this?” Seeing the absolute contempt in his eyes, a sudden wave of clarity washed over me. When I had first moved in, he had begged me on his knees. Gemma, I can’t bear to be apart from you. I miss you the second you’re out of my sight. As long as you’re willing to move in with me, my home is your home. I promise you, if we ever fight, I’ll be the one to pack up and leave. I will never make you feel like you don’t belong. I pressed my lips together, refusing to waste another breath. I went into my bedroom and calculated the exact cost of three years of rent. Once the math was done, I pulled out my suitcase, packed my clothes, and slipped the calculated cash into an envelope. I walked out, rolling my suitcase behind me, and set the heavy envelope on the table in front of Sasha. “This is the rent for the three years I’ve lived here, minus the cost of the refrigerator. You can count it.” Sasha looked panicked. “Gemma, what are you doing? Oliver didn’t mean to kick you out, he was just…” “Sasha, stop talking!” Oliver snarled, snatching the envelope and shoving it into her hands. “Just keep it as pocket money.” He turned to me, his teeth clenched, his eyes blazing with fury. “Gemma, if you want to leave, get the hell out. But don’t you dare regret this! I want to see exactly where you think you can go after walking out that door!” I ignored his venomous words, gripped the handle of my suitcase, and walked out. As the heavy front door clicked shut behind me, Sasha’s voice drifted through the gap. “Oliver, go after her! It’s the middle of the night, where is she supposed to go?” Oliver let out a cold, dismissive scoff. “Leave her. She’ll be back in two days. She always comes back.” He had no idea that I was never coming back. The moment I decided to let him go, he ceased to exist in my future.

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1 “Yesterday I deliberately spilled coffee all over her. She didn’t even dare make a sound, hahaha.” Laughter drifted out of the break room. They didn’t bother lowering their voices. I sat at my desk and heard every word clearly. “You bully her like this, aren’t you afraid she’ll complain about you in Vice President Hart’s bed tonight?” “I just think she’s dirty.” I lowered my head and continued processing a customer’s transaction. The teller window couldn’t be left unattended, so they deliberately refused to come switch shifts with me. And I said nothing. I sat in front of the computer for the entire day. Then, on the evaluation form, I drew a huge zero. They thought I was guilty. Please. The workload of a “bank mystery auditor” was very heavy these days. Who should I optimize first? … A month ago, I had been transferred to this bank branch. Before the previous employee had even handed over the work to me, Branch Manager Derek Shaw pushed me straight onto the teller counter. My job was to help customers handle transactions. I was thrown into the deep end. A customer wanted to transfer money to his son for medical treatment, so I asked Derek about the process. His answer was: “You’ll see the page when you open the computer.” There were so many systems on the computer. Which interface? Which button for authorization? Fortunately, I had been trained before, so I managed to figure it out myself. But because it took too long, the customer filed a complaint and I received a warning. Derek’s feedback remained lukewarm. “HR told me you’re highly educated. I thought you’d pick things up quickly.” I didn’t argue. I simply wrote on the evaluation form: Manager does not understand onboarding procedures. Serious dereliction of duty. Minus 20 points. After that, I learned. Since leadership couldn’t be relied on, I would ask my coworkers for help and familiarize myself with the work as quickly as possible. So at noon, I ordered fifteen cups of milk tea. [Treating everyone to milk tea!] Silence. No one responded. A woman from admin walked over with her lunch bowl, speaking through a mouthful of food, her contempt obvious. “Little girl, put your mind on work. Stop playing these weird social games.” I ignored her. For the entire afternoon, I watched the milk tea sitting on the small round table. My coworkers passed by again and again. Not one of them reached for a cup. Some even ordered their own milk tea later. When I saw the packaging, I noticed it was the exact same brand I had bought. … By eight that evening, all the cups had swollen. I threw them into the trash one by one. Fifteen cups of milk tea. Not a single one missing. So I wrote on the evaluation form again: Collective cold violence against a new employee. Minus 10 points. After everyone left, I compared the training files and carefully figured out the business process. I filled page after page of notes. The next morning, during the staff meeting, Derek called me out by name and scolded me. He said I had violated the employee handbook. “Tessa Lane, why did you stay at the teller counter until midnight yesterday?” “What if a customer’s money went missing? What if documents were lost? Could you take responsibility?” My tone was calm. “Customer documents are uploaded during processing. The electronic copies are permanently saved. There is no possibility of losing them.” “As for money, the armored truck collects large cash amounts every day. The cash left inside the branch never exceeds one hundred dollars.” “Manager Shaw, you should know that better than anyone, right?” Derek was left speechless. So he vented his anger on everyone else. “You’re right. Everyone should learn from Tessa. From now on, everyone will voluntarily extend overtime by two hours.” After the meeting, everyone returned to their stations. I was maliciously knocked to the ground by a male coworker. “You’re a damn curse.” “You just cost me two hours of my part-time job after work.” “Two hours, gone for nothing.” When the admin woman passed by, she deliberately stepped on my hand. “Oh! Didn’t see you there.” A coworker pushed her lightly. “Hurry up. Careful she tries to scam you.” The others chimed in. “Why are you still lying on the floor? Waiting for someone to help you up?” Only after they left did the pain in my body ease a little. I shook out the numbness in my arm. Then I wrote on the evaluation form: Manager abuses power for personal revenge, maliciously extends employee overtime without pay. Minus 30 points. Subordinate employees intentionally injure others. Severe misconduct. Minus 10 points. 2 After that, their hostility toward me grew even worse. At noon, everyone usually ate in shifts. That way, someone was always at the counter to serve customers. When it was my turn to eat, they tacitly refused to come relieve me. I didn’t argue. I simply kept doing the work in front of me. Just then, a father and son came in. Their old family home had recently been demolished, and they had received a compensation payment of six million dollars. From their conversation, I noticed the son kept reminding the elderly man not to transfer money casually to strangers. Based on my industry experience, I immediately explained some of the latest scams to the old man. His son sensed my good intentions and voluntarily told me how his father had almost been scammed before. I naturally recommended that they consider a fixed-term deposit. First, the money in a term deposit could not be withdrawn casually, which would protect the funds. Second, it could provide security for the future. The father and son nodded repeatedly. A six-million-dollar, three-year fixed deposit order was completed. I finished three months of performance targets in one day. Afterward, I reported the situation to Derek. I received no reply. The next day, however, the person who received the performance bonus was Derek. The branch president specifically tagged Derek in the group chat. [According to customer feedback, your service was thoughtful, and you recommended products from the customer’s perspective.] [Headquarters is awarding you a 10g gold pendant.] [@everyone] [All of you should learn from Manager Shaw. Especially new employees. Being complained about on your first day is usually an attitude problem.] The branch president did not name anyone. But everyone knew that in the past month, I was the only new employee who had received a complaint. Below the message came a flood of likes and celebration emojis. “Manager Shaw is amazing.” “Headquarters gave gold. That’s usually only for annual outstanding employees.” “We’ll all get bonuses this month by following Manager Shaw.” The monthly performance poster came out. Derek’s name was bold and enlarged. Of course, my name was on it too. Only in another column: pending dismissal. I took out the evaluation form. Superior steals employee credit. Minus 30 points. This time, I not only wrote down the reason, but also privately contacted the father and son and asked them to write a statement for me. I also pulled the surveillance footage from that day. To make sure no one could turn black into white. Soon, Derek called me into his office. “Tessa, you’ve been here… almost a month, right?” “Yes.” “You saw your name on the pending dismissal list, didn’t you?” “Yes.” “Leadership says you’re not putting in effort. Poor performance is one thing, but you got into conflict with a customer on your first day.” His face was cold, his tone full of contempt. “You’re firing me?” He shook his head and smiled. Then he took out a voluntary resignation form. “To be honest, there’s no such thing as a pending dismissal list. If your name is on it, you’re definitely being fired.” “Instead of leaving in disgrace later, you might as well sign now and walk away.” My tone stayed calm. “Then we’ll talk when headquarters officially fires me.” With that, I stood and left. Derek slammed the desk in anger. “Don’t reject kindness when it’s offered.” “If you leave now, I can still write you a recommendation letter. Otherwise, I can make sure you never work in this industry again.” I did not stop walking. I turned and returned to my station. Looking at the evaluation form, which was gradually being drained of points, I realized the task would be completed early this time. Ever since my name appeared on the pending dismissal list, my coworkers bullied me even more openly. As long as I sat at the teller counter, no one came to relieve me for a break. To withstand a full day of work, I ate three bowls of rice in the morning. If I got hungry, I drank meal replacement powder. All to keep myself full. After eating their lunches, my coworkers would come pick their teeth in front of me with smiles. “Tessa, don’t work so hard. Leave us older ladies a way to survive.” The others laughed along. “Wendy, what do you know?” “Young girls these days like dieting. They want to keep their figures.” Listening to their teasing, I still said nothing. While they were all out eating lunch, I quietly logged into the system backend. In the past, every time I logged in, a user code-named C would kick me out. Later, I discovered that everyone in the branch could enter. Everyone except me. Just like headquarters could never understand why every new employee here failed to last three months. Upper management had wanted to reshuffle this branch’s personnel. But every time they tried to transfer an employee away, this branch would erupt into chaos. Fortunately, I finally found some clues in the system. But just then, my account was forcibly logged out. Then I received a termination notice from HR. [Ms. Tessa Lane, after comprehensive evaluation, you have been deemed unqualified for your position. The company hereby terminates your employment.] 3 I shut the computer and went straight to HR. When HR Manager Linda Mason saw me, she didn’t seem surprised. “I sent you the handover form. Fill it out as required and you can leave.” My face was cold. “If you want to fire me, you should at least give me a reason.” “What standards are you using for this so-called comprehensive evaluation?” Linda smiled. “Have a seat.” She flipped through my file and looked increasingly confident. “You’ve been at the branch for a full month.” “That’s not a short time, but your performance is still zero.” I made a pause gesture. “Wrong. My performance is six million. Twenty times higher than the thirty-thousand target you set.” Linda sneered. “Six million? That was Derek Shaw’s performance.” “I have evidence.” I showed her the surveillance video from that day. Then I took out the handwritten statements from the father and son. She immediately stopped talking. “We’ll need to verify this.” “Besides, how do you explain being complained about by a customer on your very first day?” I calmly brought out the next piece of evidence. I played a video. “You’ll see the page when you open the computer.” The moment Derek’s voice came out, Linda’s expression changed. “You can see it clearly in the video. Throughout the process, he did not provide me with any help.” “Instead, after receiving no support, I proactively found a solution myself.” “The person who should leave isn’t me, is it?” For a moment, Linda was speechless. “Fine. If there’s nothing else, I’m going back to work.” Just as I walked out, she called me back. “Wait. At the end of the day, you just want money, don’t you?” “Our branch isn’t stingy. Submit a voluntary resignation today, and I’ll give you two months of compensation. How about that?” I smiled. Two months. No wonder there were so many strange losses in the monthly accounts. I tested her. “Not enough. I want six months.” Linda panicked. “You’re young and naive. You don’t know how hard society is. I advise you to take the money and leave.” “If you offend Manager Shaw, nothing good will come of it.” I couldn’t be bothered with her and turned to leave. Then I wrote on the evaluation form: HR ignores labor laws and mishandles bank property at will. Final score: zero. Very soon, Linda received a call. Headquarters had notified her of her dismissal. I heard the scolding on the other end was especially ugly. Linda cried in her office for a long time and couldn’t recover. I had just returned to my desk when Derek came over. “Quite a powerful background you have. A few words from you and Linda is gone.” “Tell me honestly. What’s your relationship with Vice President Hart?” I looked up. Everyone was secretly laughing while holding their phones. “Do you even need to ask? Vice President Hart has a wife and kids. What else could she be except his mistress?” “No wonder. I was wondering how an intern had so much money to buy us milk tea.” “Listen to me, girl. Work honestly. Don’t always think about taking shortcuts and using milk tea to suck up to people.” I immediately opened RedNote. Only then did I discover most of the posts were aimed at me. [I saw that mistress having dinner with Vice President Hart last time. The next day, she started working at their branch.] [More than dinner. She goes to Vice President Hart’s house every few days.] [Each time she stays two or three hours. Always at night. Anyone with eyes knows what they’re doing.] Spreading sexual rumors was one thing. Some of them had directly doxxed me. My schools, classes, from elementary school to university, had all been dug up. Even the address of my hometown had been exposed. People online even threatened to form a group to beat me. I was furious. I immediately called Vice President Hart. “You’d better contact the posters today, make them delete everything, and apologize to me. Otherwise, I’m leaving right now.” “Don’t, don’t… I’m busy…” Before he could finish, I hung up first. Derek whispered by my ear. “Well, well. Didn’t expect Vice President Hart to spoil you this much.” “Do you know what I just did? I sent the posts to his wife.” “She’s already on her way here.” Everyone was waiting to watch the show. They were waiting for Vice President Hart’s wife to tear me apart as the mistress. The happier they laughed now, the worse they would die later. A branch rating of zero meant direct closure. Headquarters had a department specifically created to inspect whether employees were treating customers sincerely. So auditors would disguise themselves as customers and conduct evaluations. Unfortunately, where there were policies, there were countermeasures. This branch was famously flooded with complaints. But every time our colleagues came to inspect, the branch always performed perfectly. Headquarters had no way to punish them. Even stranger, almost no new employee here lasted three months. So Vice President Hart asked me to step in. From pretending to be a customer to pretending to be an employee. He asked me to investigate what was really going on. And I was the “bank mystery auditor” they kept talking about. Now I didn’t need to struggle over who to fire first. Of course everyone could leave together.

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1 On the day the city was hit by the worst torrential rain in a decade, I called my wife, Candy, at least three times, begging her to pick up our son from school. After four straight hours of weather broadcasts, I got a call from my son’s teacher the second I finished. “John’s dad, I know you and your wife are incredibly busy, but you can’t just forget your child like this!” Mrs. Higgins said over the line. “John waited outside the school gates in the freezing rain for over an hour. He was completely soaked before another parent finally offered him a ride home.” Panic seizing my chest, I rushed home through the flooded streets. Pushing open John’s bedroom door, I found my little boy curled up under the blankets, his small frame shivering violently. He wasn’t crying, but his voice was thick with hurt. “Mom told me to wait at the gate, Dad. She said she was coming right back. But I waited so long… and then everyone else was gone.” I pressed my hand to his forehead, it was burning hot. Just as I pulled out my phone to call Candy, a text from her popped up: Jared and Milo got stranded on the flooded highway. I had to go rescue them. Is John home yet? For the past five years, Candy’s excuse was always the same: Jared was a single dad, and raising a kid alone was hard, so we had to help out. But now, she had abandoned her own flesh and blood in a historic storm just to hold an umbrella over another man. I stared at the screen, a cold realization settling into my bones. Every second I had wasted trying to make this marriage work was a betrayal of my son. I locked my phone, refusing to reply. Perhaps sensing she had gone too far, Candy actually came home early. She slammed the front door open, her face twisted in annoyance. “Didn’t you see my text? Why didn’t you let me know John made it back? I was worried sick, running red lights to get home, and you’re just sitting here giving me the silent treatment again!” When I didn’t answer, she let out an exasperated sigh and walked into John’s room. Kneeling by his bed, she softened her voice slightly. “Hey, John, sweetie, don’t be mad at Mom. I had a major emergency to take care of today. Tell you what, I’ll take you to the amusement park this weekend, okay?” In the past, John would have sat up instantly, his eyes shining as he made her pinky-promise. He would have written about it in his journal and planned his outfit days in advance. But ever since Jared divorced and moved back to the city with his son, Milo, Candy’s promises had become worthless. John’s school sign-in sheets only ever bore my signature. In his drawings and essays about family, the page marked ‘Mom’ was always left blank. John didn’t look at her. He simply pulled the blanket higher, burying his face deeper into his pillow, his back turned to his mother. My chest ached with a sharp, physical pain, and I dug my nails into my palms to force down the useless tears. Candy tried coaxing him for another minute, reaching out to ruffle his hair, when her phone rang. The screen lit up with Jared’s name. As soon as she answered, his panicked voice filled the quiet room. “Candy… Milo has a high fever. I’m so scared, I don’t know what to do…” This wasn’t his first time playing the helpless victim to lure her away. Right on cue, Candy’s face filled with intense anxiety. “Stay calm, Jared. I’m on my way.” She hung up and instantly began rummaging through our medicine cabinet. I stepped in front of her, blocking her path. “What are you looking for?” “Milo has a fever. Where’s the pediatric ibuprofen?” “John has a fever too. That’s the last bottle, and I need it for him.” Candy shoved my hand away, grabbing the bottle and slipping it into her coat. “It’s just one night, John will survive! Milo’s fever is dangerous, and Jared is having a panic attack! Jared’s father drowned saving my life when we were kids! I owe their family everything. Stop being so incredibly selfish!” Grabbing her car keys, she slammed the front door, leaving us in the dark. I stood alone in the quiet house, a hollow laugh escaping my lips. It took me five years to finally accept that, in her eyes, our son’s life would never be as important as Jared’s. I opened every delivery app on my phone, but due to the storm, every local pharmacy was sold out of fever reducers. John tossed and turned, whimpering in his sleep. “Mom… you promised… you lied…” Tears blurred my vision as I wiped his shivering body down with cool water, placing a damp cloth on his forehead. But his fever kept climbing. I called Candy over a dozen times before she finally picked up, her tone dripping with annoyance. “John’s fever is at 104. The roads are flooded and I can’t get medicine. You need to come back and help me get him to the ER.” “Nolan, stop being so dramatic,” she sighed. “I know you’re mad that I left, but using our son’s health to guilt-trip me is low.” I didn’t say another word. I simply hung up. I wrapped John in a dry blanket and carried him out into the rain. The streets were flooded up to my calves, making driving impossible. The nearest children’s clinic was nearly a mile away, and I trudged through the dark, icy water, shielding his head from the downpour. By the time we reached the clinic, John was semi-conscious. After the doctor administered an IV, he finally drifted into a peaceful sleep. Sitting by his bedside, I opened social media and saw Jared’s latest post: So thankful for the woman who always has my back. The attached photo showed Candy from behind, standing in Jared’s warm kitchen, stirring a pot of soup. The comments were filled with praise: Candy is such a loyal friend! You’re so lucky to have her, Jared. I stared at the words, a wave of pure nausea washing over me. John stirred, opening his heavy eyelids. “Dad… where’s Mom?” “She’s busy, buddy.” Six months ago, I had received a prestigious anchor offer from the Port City weather network. Candy had clung to me then, crying, “Honey, my firm is here in Bayport, and I’m always so swamped. What will I do if you leave?” I had believed her. I turned down the dream job to keep our family together. Now, I realized she wasn’t swamped, she was just busy playing house with another man. John didn’t ask any more questions, showing no disappointment. He just pressed his face into my shoulder. “It’s okay. I just need you.” I kissed his cool forehead, whispering softly, “From now on, John, it’s just you and me. We don’t need her anymore.” 2 John spent three days in the pediatric ward recovering. Candy never showed up once, and neither of us ever brought up her name. The day after we were discharged, John signed up for the state youth martial arts tournament. His coach called me personally, telling me John had a real shot at the gold medal if we prepared well. John practiced tirelessly every afternoon, his little toes covered in blisters, but he never complained once. The night before the tournament, Candy actually came home. John was practicing his forms in the living room when she walked in. He paused for a second, but instead of running to her like he used to, he simply turned away and continued his routine. Candy looked visibly uncomfortable. She pressed her lips together and said, “The big tournament is tomorrow, right?” John ignored her completely. Not wanting a scene, I gave a polite, distant reply. “Two o’clock tomorrow afternoon.” She nodded. “Milo is competing too. I promised Jared I’d be there to cheer him on.” I didn’t say anything. Candy had never attended a single one of John’s school plays or events, always citing an emergency with Jared’s family. Over time, John had stopped expecting her to show up. The next afternoon, I took half a day off from the station to accompany John to the arena. After changing into his uniform, he slipped on his sneakers and ran to the corner to stretch. A second later, he let out a sharp cry of pain. “Dad! Something’s in my shoe!” I rushed over and pulled off his shoe. His white sock was already soaked in bright red blood. When I shook the shoe out, several small, jagged shards of broken glass tumbled onto the floor. I looked up, scanning the arena. In the VIP waiting area, Candy was standing next to Jared, helping Milo tie his belt. When our eyes met, she instantly looked away, guilt written all over her face. I handed John to his coach, asking him to take my boy to the first-aid station, and marched over to Candy. I grabbed her arm and pulled her into an empty corridor. “You put glass in John’s shoes, didn’t you?” Her throat bobbed nervously, but she quickly became defensive. “Milo started training late, and the coach said John was guaranteed to beat him. Jared was so stressed out, he was terrified Milo’s confidence would be shattered. I just wanted to give Milo a fair shot at winning. John is naturally athletic, he can win any other tournament later.” “So you put broken glass in your own son’s shoes? Do you have any idea how badly he’s bleeding right now?” She rubbed her temples, looking annoyed. “John is a tough kid, Nolan. A couple of tiny scratches won’t kill him. It’s just a little pain to teach him resilience. Why do you always have to make such a big deal out of everything?” I stared at her, utterly horrified. “You deliberately hurt our son to spare another man’s kid some minor disappointment?” Exposed, her voice rose in anger. “Nolan, stop overreacting! John has you to pamper him. Jared and Milo have absolutely no one else in their corner!” Her warped logic made me physically sick. I had no desire to argue anymore. Trying to make a blind, heartless person see reason was a complete waste of breath. With John sidelined, Milo took home the gold medal. As he stood on the podium holding the trophy, Candy applauded proudly, her smile brighter than any I had ever seen on her face during our marriage. While John was changing in the locker room, his coach walked up to me, looking deeply troubled. “Nolan… I saw the security footage near the equipment cubbies. I know what she did. Do you want to call the police?” I shook my head quietly. “Thank you, Coach. I’ll handle it my own way.” What good would the police do? She was John’s mother, and the system would view it as a domestic issue, resulting in a slap on the wrist. But I was done letting her walk all over us. On the drive home, John pressed his forehead against the passenger window, whispering softly, “Dad… does Mom hate me?” Looking at his small, bandaged foot, my throat tightened. “Mom is just lost, John. But I promise you, I will never leave your side.” As soon as we got home, I emailed a family lawyer, attaching the security footage of Candy slipping the glass into John’s shoe. The response came back within an hour: This is excellent evidence of maternal endangerment. We can use this to secure full custody with no visitation rights. Just as I went to tuck John in, my phone buzzed. It was a photo from Jared. It showed Candy with her arms around him and Milo, smiling warmly. My two favorite boys did so well today! Milo got the gold, and someone surprised us with a custom cake! A second later, the message was unsent, followed by a text: Sorry, Nolan! Sent that to the wrong chat by accident. Please don’t be mad! I took a deep, steadying breath and booked two one-way tickets to Port City for the day after tomorrow. This hollow, toxic marriage was officially over. 3 On our final weekend before leaving, I took John to the local amusement park to ride the giant Ferris wheel. He had been begging to go for months. Candy had promised him a trip in the spring, then postponed it to summer, and then autumn, before finally forgetting entirely. John had stopped asking, but I refused to let him leave this city with unfulfilled dreams. Standing in the queue under the massive wheel, John gripped my hand, his face glowing with excitement. “Dad, when we reach the very top, I’m going to make a huge wish!” But in an instant, his smile froze. A few yards away, Candy was carrying Milo, feeding him a stick of cotton candy. Jared was walking beside them, adjusting a toy crown on Milo’s head. Milo wrapped his arms around Candy’s neck, giggling. “Mommy, I want to ride that one next!” Candy laughed and nodded, but as she turned her head, her eyes locked onto mine. Realizing she’d been caught, she quickly set Milo down and walked toward us. John had gone completely quiet the second she appeared. He gave my sleeve a gentle tug. “Dad, let’s just go home.” Jared walked up with a pleasant smile. “Hey, John! Milo wants to ride the carousel. Why don’t you join him?” Milo scoffed, clinging to Candy’s coat. “I don’t want to ride with him, Mommy. His clothes look so cheap and dirty.” Jared made a half-hearted attempt to correct him. “Milo, be nice.” But Candy didn’t say a word to reprimand the boy. She just stood there, looking like a proud mother protecting her own. Disgusted, I turned to lead John away. But Jared let out a theatrical gasp. “Nolan, you… you didn’t follow us here, did you?” Candy’s face immediately darkened. “Nolan, seriously? I finally get one day off to spend with them, and you have to drag John out here just to ruin it?” I swallowed the hot anger rising in my throat. “Is this park registered in your name? I don’t need your permission to take my son out.” Jared’s eyes immediately filled with tears, his voice trembling. “Candy, it’s fine. It’s probably just a coincidence. I’m sorry for making a big deal out of it. Nolan has every right to be here. Milo and I will just leave so we don’t cause trouble for your family.” Candy grabbed his arm, stopping him, before turning on me with pure fury. “Are you happy now? Why do you always have to bully Jared?” Before I could even speak, Milo suddenly let out a piercing shriek and burst into tears. He pointed an accusing finger at John. “He pushed me! He hurt me!” John stood completely still, his hands at his sides, staring at Milo in utter confusion. Candy’s face twisted in disgust. She grabbed my wrist in a tight grip. “Is this how you raise him? To be a violent bully?” “Candy, open your eyes! John didn’t touch him!” Before I could finish my sentence, her hand whipped across my face in a stinging slap. The force of the blow sent me stumbling back against the metal railing. My cheek burned with pain, and I felt the metallic taste of blood in my mouth. John let out a sob, throwing his small arms around my leg. “Dad! I don’t want a mom anymore! Please, when can we leave?” I knelt down, pulling him tightly against my chest. “Soon, buddy. We’re leaving the day after tomorrow.” 4 Just as I reached out to wipe the tears from his cheeks, a blood-curdling scream echoed through the park. People began sprinting past us in terror, shouting, “He’s got a knife! Run!” Looking over the panicked crowd, I saw a woman with wild, bloodshot eyes, brandishing a large, blood-stained kitchen knife, charging directly toward our section of the path. I scooped John up and ran with the screaming crowd toward the exit. But as we neared a large concrete planter, someone slammed violently into my back. My knees buckled, and I went flying forward. I tried to push myself up, but a sharp, agonizing pain shot through my right ankle. John’s head had struck the sharp edge of the planter, and bright red blood began streaming down his forehead. The frantic footsteps of the knife-wielding attacker were closing in, she was less than twenty yards away. Just then, I saw Candy running toward the exit from an adjacent path. Desperate, I screamed with everything I had. “Candy! Help John! Please!” She paused for a fraction of a second, looking at us. But then she grabbed Jared’s hand and hoisted Milo into her arms, sprinting away without a backward glance. “Just hide John somewhere! I have to get them to safety first! I’ll come back for you!” A cold, crushing weight settled on my chest. The attacker was upon us, a horrific grin on her face as she raised the blade, aiming straight for my son’s chest. Summoning every ounce of strength left in my body, I threw myself over John, shielding his small body completely with my own. The blade ripped through my left sleeve, tearing open a deep gash in my forearm. Hot blood splattered across my skin. As she raised the knife for a second strike, a park security officer tackled her from the side, pinning her to the ground with a heavy shield. Three more guards rushed over, disarming her. The adrenaline faded, leaving me gasping for air as I looked down at my arm. Blood was pouring from the wound, dripping past my wrist. John was staring up at me, his eyes wide with pure terror, blood dripping from his hairline. I gently cupped his uninjured cheek. “I’ve got you, buddy. You’re safe.” After getting our wounds stitched and bandaged at the emergency room, I ordered a ride-share. As I carried John out through the hospital lobby, we ran right into Candy. She was holding a bag of medication, with Jared and Milo hovering close behind. She froze, her eyes dropping to the thick white bandages wrapped around my arm and John’s forehead. “Nolan… what happened? You’re hurt!” I didn’t answer. I kept walking, but she chased after me, reaching out to grab my shoulder. Just then, Jared called out from behind her, his voice whining. “Candy, Milo says his head hurts from the excitement. Can you carry him to the car?” She hesitated for a split second, then turned back to them. I climbed into the waiting car with John, shutting the door behind us. That was your very last chance, Candy. You chose them. And now, you will never have to choose again.

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1 I transmigrated into a novel. My mission was to win over a villainous family: a cold, distant father, a maniacal mother, and a deeply broken brother. For twenty long years, I played the devoted daughter and loving sister. Finally, my system returned to active status. While waiting for it to calculate their favorability ratings, I leaned against my brand-new Porsche, lazily spinning the key ring on my finger, a playful smile on my face as I teased the man standing on the porch. “Hey, my birthday is in a few days. What are you getting me this year?” Brian was tall and lean, his handsome features permanently locked in a cool, indifferent expression. He glanced down at me, and I braced myself for him to ignore me, just like he always did. Instead, his dark eyes fixed on mine. “What do you want?” I froze, almost failing to process his words. I looked at him with deep suspicion. “Did the sun rise from the west today?” His gaze remained frigid. “It does not matter anyway. You will not be here next month. You are being married off to the Castillo family. Did you not know?” Suddenly, a crisp chime echoed in my mind. [Favorability calculation complete.] [Theo: 0. Ellie: 0. Brian: 0.] [Mission failed. Forced extraction from this world will commence in three days.] My fingers went limp. The Porsche keys slipped from my hand, hitting the gravel with a sharp, metallic clink. “What did you just say?” “The Castillos demanded a bride to secure the alliance,” Brian said. He bent down, retrieved the keys, and handed them back to me with slow, agonizing deliberation. “Hector Castillo is on his deathbed. They wanted a young bride from our bloodline to seal the merger before the old man passes. Our family needs this contract, and you are the perfect bargaining chip.” I stared at him, desperately searching his face for any sign of a joke. There was none. His face was exactly as it had been every single day for the past twenty years: cold, distant, entirely devoid of warmth. But how could their favorability be zero? How was that even possible? Even though my father was distant, he had always spoken to me with quiet patience, carefully choosing my birthday gifts every year. My mother, during her brief moments of sanity, would hold me so tightly as if she would never let go. And my brother, despite his icy demeanor, had ruthlessly ruined anyone who dared to bully me when we were children. When I was ten, I accidentally overheard my mother on a call with one of her associates. The person on the other end must have said something threatening, because she let out a cold laugh and said, “Naomi is my daughter. If anyone so much as touches a hair on her head, I will bury their entire family.” I had hidden around the corner of the staircase, covering my mouth to muffle my giggles, feeling incredibly safe. And just before my twentieth birthday, they had gifted me this luxury car. I vividly remembered Theo handing me the keys, his voice soft as he said, “My girl deserves only the best.” Was all of it a lie? The warmth, the pampering, the tender care, was it all just an elaborate performance? How pathetic of me. I had actually planned to stay in this world until the very end of their natural lives, even after completing the mission. I truly believed I had found genuine familial love. It turned out I was the only one playing the fool. In my previous missions, even a complete stranger would have more than zero favorability after a single encounter. But these three had absolutely no feelings for me. None at all. The cold wind whipped against my eyes, making them sting. “What is wrong with you?” Brian’s voice broke the silence, his brow furrowing slightly. “You look incredibly pale.” He looked at me with that faint crease between his brows. In the past, such a tiny sign of concern would have made my day, proof that my brother cared about me. Now, it just felt like a cruel joke. Twenty years of living under the same roof, twenty years of walking on eggshells, twenty years of pouring my heart out, and it was nothing but a one-sided delusion. “It is nothing,” I said, my voice shockingly calm. “I understand.” I turned toward the car. “Naomi,” he called out behind me, a strange, unreadable note in his voice. “Did you not want your birthday gift?” I did not look back. [Host, are you alright?] the system asked, its digital voice uncharacteristically gentle. “Never better,” I whispered. I slid into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and slammed my foot on the accelerator. The engine roared as the car tore down the driveway. In the rearview mirror, Brian remained standing on the steps, a motionless silhouette fading into the distance. 2 I had no destination. The Porsche flew along the winding mountain roads. I rolled down all the windows, letting the freezing wind blast my face, hoping the chill would clear the suffocating noise in my head. I had failed missions before. It was part of the job. But none of those failures had ever made my chest ache like this. I kept reciting my mental mantra, telling myself that my kindness to them was merely a calculated move to complete the mission and leave this world. I did not actually view them as my real family. I did not. Yet, my hands were trembling so violently I could barely hold the steering wheel. Memories of their soft smiles and warm words flashed behind my eyelids, completely out of my control. To drown out the thoughts, I floored the gas pedal. The sports car surged forward, the speedometer needle climbing frantically. Sharp curves, metal guardrails, and the dark abyss of the canyon blurred past in a deafening rush of wind. Suddenly, the steering wheel grew incredibly heavy, resisting my grip. I slammed on the brakes, but the pedal sank uselessly to the floor, soft and unresponsive. I twisted the wheel in a desperate attempt to stay on the road. The world spun violently. The airbag deployed with a deafening blast, slamming into my face, and darkness swallowed me whole. When I drifted back to consciousness, the sharp, sterile scent of bleach and rubbing alcohol filled my nose. My right leg was screaming in agony. I tried to shift my weight, but a blinding flash of pain shot up my spine, forcing a ragged gasp from my throat. “Told you not to go street racing,” a voice muttered nearby. It was Brian. He was leaning close to my bedside, and I could smell his familiar, crisp cedar cologne. I kept my eyes shut, pretending to still be asleep. What a hypocrite, I thought bitterly. If he had actually cared, he would have stopped me from driving off in the first place. “How is she?” Theo’s deep voice asked from across the room. “A fractured tibia, two cracked ribs, and a mild concussion,” Brian replied. “Good. She is alive,” Theo sighed, his voice dripping with relief. A bitter ache bloomed in my chest. If his favorability was truly at zero, why did he sound so relieved that I had survived? “I will go fetch the doctor,” Brian said. “Very well.” The sound of his footsteps faded, followed by the soft click of the door closing. I was debating whether to open my eyes when my father’s voice cut through the silence, sharp and laced with anger. “Ellie, what on earth possessed you to tamper with her car? Do you have any idea how important this marriage to the Castillos is? If she had died in that crash, how was I supposed to close the deal?” The blood in my veins turned to ice. What? My mother let out a soft, melodic chuckle. It was a sound I had heard countless times throughout my childhood, sweet and full of playful innocence. “I wanted her dead, Theo,” Ellie said, her tone light, as if she were discussing a trivial parlor game. “I wanted to ruin your precious little empire. You wanted to use her to climb into the Castillo dynasty? I would rather burn everything to the ground than let you succeed.” “Are you completely insane?” Theo hissed, his voice trembling with suppressed fury. “Do you have any concept of the scale of this merger? Do you know what the Castillo alliance would do for our family? All of this wasted because of your petty, miserable spite!” “Spite?” Ellie interrupted, her laughter turning sharp and venomous. “You swore to me when we married that I would be the only one you ever loved. Yet, after she was born, you ran around with half the women in the city. It is all because of that disgusting little parasite. I should have strangled her in her crib.” “Then you should have done it twenty years ago,” Theo snapped. “She has lived under my roof, eaten my food, and enjoyed my protection for two decades. It is time she paid her debt. She marries him next month, and after that, you can lose your mind all you want.” The room fell quiet. I swallowed hard, holding back a sob, and whispered in my mind, No wonder they are the villains. I was never a daughter to them. Just a business asset to my father, and a reminder of betrayal to my mother. I wished the crash had finished the job. 3 Soft footsteps neared the bed. I felt a cool, gentle hand rest on my forehead, stroking my hair with the same tenderness I had known my entire life. “Naomi,” my mother whispered, her voice thick with maternal warmth. “Mommy is here, darling. Do not be afraid.” I opened my eyes. Her face was mere inches from mine, her beautiful eyes brimming with tears, her expression a perfect portrait of motherly devotion. I stared at her for a long time. “Mom,” I rasped, my throat dry. “Oh, Naomi!” she cried out in joy, her hands cup-ping my face. “You terrified me, sweetie. You have no idea how much Mommy was worrying…” “Are you not tired?” I asked. She froze. I shifted my gaze to Theo, who was standing at the foot of the bed. His rigid posture locked up instantly, his face a mask of sudden tension. “What do you mean, darling?” Ellie forced a fragile smile. “Did you hit your head too hard? Let Mommy call the doctor…” “I said,” I interrupted, my voice flat and dead, “are you not tired of pretending to love me for twenty years?” The warmth in the room vanished. Slowly, the tender mask slid off Ellie’s face, revealing a cold, critical sneer. She straightened up, looking down at me with absolute detachment. “So, you heard.” “Every word.” I used my elbows to push myself up, but the movement sent a wave of agony through my cracked ribs. I gagged, dry-heaving from the sheer pain. Ellie’s eyes narrowed. She lunged forward, grabbing my wrist in a crushing grip. “Are you pregnant?” she demanded. “No!” I cried out, trying to pull away. She did not let go. Instead, her fingers dug deeper into my flesh, her nails biting into my skin. “Check her,” Theo ordered, his eyes cold. “If she is carrying another man’s child, the Castillos will ruin us.” Ellie let out an irritated click of her tongue. “This is too risky. I will contact the Castillo estate tonight and have her delivered early, before they can find out anything.” A cold dread washed over me. “I am not pregnant! I swear to you, I am not!” My mother turned back to me, a cruel, mocking smile playing on her lips. She raised her free hand, gently stroking my cheek before her fingers slid down to wrap tightly around my throat. “Do not raise your voice at me, sweetie,” she whispered. “Obedient girls do not have to suffer.” The door flew open, and Brian stepped into the room. He took in the scene, his brow furrowing slightly. “What is going on here?” Ellie released my throat instantly, her face shifting back to its warm, serene expression. “Nothing, dear. Naomi is awake, and we were just having a little chat.” Brian looked at me, then turned his gaze to Theo. “The Castillo representatives have arrived.” Theo nodded. “Tell them to wait. I will be down shortly.” He cast one final, icy look at me. “Recover quickly, and do not think of running. You cannot escape.” When the door clicked shut, only Brian remained by my bedside. “Do not blame them,” he said quietly. I stared at him in utter disbelief. “What did you say?” “In this family, everything comes with a price,” he replied, his face completely blank. I closed my mouth, unable to find any words. This was my brother. The boy I thought would protect me.

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1 Before I was born, my family had a beautiful life. Dad had a respectable management job. Mom was a gentle stay-at-home mother. My older sister was smart, bright, the kind of kid adults loved to brag about. Then I came along. Moderate cerebral palsy. Severe damage to both movement and cognition. I was ten before I could barely walk with crutches. My words never came out right. I could not even write my own name. Mom’s pretty face grew duller by the day. Dad and my sister stayed away from home longer and longer. One day, when I was fifteen, I sat on the couch staring blankly at the TV. A child on the screen climbed over a railing and fell. People screamed. Red spread across the pavement. I only watched the child who no longer moved, thoughtful in a way I did not understand. “Andrew Parker, do you even have a heart? She’s our daughter!” “Grace, I know she’s my daughter. But we can’t throw away our whole lives for her. Please. Put her in a care home. It’ll be better for everyone.” “That would ruin her life. She’d never have another chance to recover.” “Her life was ruined a long time ago, wasn’t it?” Something shattered. I knew their fight was over, just like all the others. Dad yanked the door open. The moment he saw me, he forced a smile onto his face. He came to the couch and sat beside me as if nothing had happened, wiping the drool from the corner of my mouth with a gentle hand. “Sophie, Daddy doesn’t want this either. Daddy’s sorry. It’s just… you don’t understand any of it.” I did not know what he was sorry for. I only leaned into his arms and let out a clumsy little laugh. Dad’s chest was broad and warm. I could barely remember the last time he had held me like that. Maybe I was five. We were in a place that smelled sharp and awful. A man in a white coat kept shaking his head at me. “Mr. and Mrs. Parker, you’ve taken her to the best hospitals here and overseas. But I still have to say this. Leave money for her care. Find a reliable person or institution to look after her for life. That matters more than anything now.” After he said that, Mom broke down sobbing. “It’s my fault. I gave birth to Sophie. I ruined her whole life.” Dad reached out as if he wanted to hold her, then pulled his hand back. In the end, all he did was sigh. I watched them, confused, suddenly scared for no reason. I curled tightly into Dad’s arms. After we went home that day, Mom and Dad had their first real fight. Warm drops touched my shoulder and pulled me out of the memory. I looked up. Then I laughed, drool slipping down my chin. “Daddy… cry… crying.” Dad’s face changed at once. He turned toward Mom, who had just come out of the bedroom, and shouted. “Look at her! She’s fifteen and still like this. She’ll never be cured. Never!” Then he slammed the door and left without looking back. Mom’s tears started falling again as she watched him go. But my attention had already been caught by the slam. I limped over and copied the motion again and again. The door banged so many times that white dust drifted down from the wall. “Fun… fun… Mommy…” I tried to share my joy with her in my slurred voice. But she rushed over like a storm and dragged me back to the couch. It was the first time Mom had ever been so harsh with me. I was terrified. My mouth opened wide, and I burst into tears. “Mommy… Sophie hurt… scared…” Mom did not answer. She found a clothes hanger and struck me with it again and again. It was the first time she had ever hit me. I was scared and in pain. I wanted to run, but my legs would not obey me. I could only grab her pant leg and beg. Then I looked up and saw that Mom was crying harder than I was. “Why? Why? Why did it turn out like this?” She collapsed onto the floor like her bones had melted, staring straight into my eyes. “Sophie, what am I supposed to do? With you like this, what can I possibly do?” I stopped crying. I wanted to copy my sister and gently wipe Mom’s tears away. But my hand spasmed at that exact moment, and I accidentally jabbed Mom in the eye. Blood appeared at once. Mom screamed and shoved me away. By the time I understood what had happened, Mom was already gone. Only the child on the TV remained, lying there quietly. 2 The house stayed quiet for a long, long time. I waited until my stomach growled, but no one came home. Before, Mom always made food that smelled wonderful, then fed me one careful bite at a time. Those smells circled inside my head now, making me restless. I crawled around the house, dragging myself from room to room. Furniture scraped across the floor. Mom’s favorite prints fell. A beautiful wooden photo frame broke into pieces. Worse than all of that was the wet, heavy feeling in my pants. I could feel something leaving my body. A sour stink followed me wherever I crawled. I knew I was uncomfortable, so I began to cry out. “Mommy… Sophie wants… Mommy.” I called for a long time. No one answered. Fear came over me all at once. Mom had left. Mom did not want me anymore. That fear prickled across my scalp, but I could do nothing. I sat on the floor, lost and sobbing. At dawn the next day, a sharp cry woke me. “Mom, look! Sophie messed herself again. It’s everywhere!” It was my sister’s voice. Lily held Mom’s arm. Her pretty face was full of anger. A white bandage covered Mom’s injured eye. She looked weak, as if even standing took effort. She looked at me, then at the ruined prints she had treasured so much. She walked straight over, her hand lifting. But it never came down. She only closed her eyes, then opened them again, as if she could not believe what she was seeing. “Mommy, hurt? Sophie… missed you.” At those words, her eyes suddenly lit up. “Sophie, you said a whole sentence.” Then she looked at Lily, her voice trembling. “Lily, your sister will get better. Did you hear that? She said a whole sentence.” Lily did not answer. She acted as if she had heard nothing. She went to the bathroom, brought out a mop, and began cleaning the mess I had made with practiced movements. I said again, “Sister… Mommy… hungry…” Mom’s smile froze. I wanted to touch her, but she covered her eye and moved back several steps. The corner of her face twitched. After a long while, she opened her eyes and carried me into the bathroom with tears in her own. Mom had always bathed me gently. Today her hands were rougher. She did not talk the way she used to. She scrubbed until it hurt, and my body twisted without meaning to. She pressed me down. “Sophie Parker, can’t you give me one quiet minute?” “Do you know this family is falling apart? And it’s all because of you.” I heard the grief and anger in her voice. So I went still, obediently letting her finish. But my cerebral palsy meant my body did not always listen to me. A spasm seized me. I slipped sideways into the tub. Water covered me. I could not breathe. Everything hurt in a way I had no words for. I wanted to scream, but water rushed in whenever I opened my mouth. Before the world went black, I saw Mom standing beside the tub, frozen. There was a strange light in her eye. Almost as if she did not want me to struggle. Then my hands lost their strength. My mind went empty. 3 Through the haze, that familiar bitter hospital smell came back. Men and women in white coats moved around in front of me. “Her vital signs are stable. She took in some water, but she should be fine after rest.” “As for the cerebral palsy, I need to speak with the family…” After that, everything around me stayed quiet for a long time. Then Lily spoke. “Mom, this study-abroad program… my professor finally recommended me. I really want to go. Dad said the money is with you.” “But Lily, this is all we have left. We need it for Sophie’s treatment. The doctor just said if we stop, she may not make it.” Lily suddenly shouted. “Mom, I’m your child too! Why does everything have to come after Sophie? Is her illness my fault?” Mom went still. She opened her mouth but said nothing. Lily seemed to have finally found the crack in herself, and all the hurt of the past years poured out. “After Sophie was born, I was only five years older than her, but overnight I had to become the ‘good big sister.’ I learned to cook for myself before I was eight. Other kids had parents waiting after school. I walked home alone. “When I got my first period, I was scared to death. But you were with Sophie. You didn’t even know. “When girls at school picked on me, Dad was busy working to pay Sophie’s medical bills. I could only tell you. But you forgot the next day because you were taking Sophie somewhere again. I still have scars.” Her sobs grew louder. “To save money for Sophie’s treatment, she’s already eaten through all our savings. The money I made working during breaks went to her supplements and toys. “Mom, I’m tired. This chance is rare. “I’m Sophie’s sister, but I’m also me. I’m also your daughter. Please, just this once, think about me.” Lily wiped her tears and said the last words in a drained voice. “Mom, in twenty years, this is the only selfish thing I’ve asked for. I’ll treat the money as a loan. I can write an IOU. I’ll pay it back.” Silence followed. I tried hard to open my eyes. I wanted to wipe their tears away. I could not. At last, Mom sighed. “Lily, don’t worry. I’ll figure something out. I won’t let you down.” After Lily left, Mom stroked my forehead. “Sophie. My Sophie. If only you could always be as quiet and sweet as you are now.” A warm drop fell on the corner of my mouth. Salty and bitter. Then Mom made a call to Dad. “Andrew Parker, let’s get divorced. The only thing left is the house. I don’t want it. Leave it to you and Lily.” The other end of the line went silent for a beat. Dad sounded unsure when he spoke. “I don’t want the house. You and Sophie will need money.” “I already prepared the divorce papers. They’re in the drawer at home. Just sign them.” Then he hung up, as if he was afraid Mom might change her mind. Mom laughed several times. It sounded worse than crying. When I finally opened my eyes, it was the next morning. Mom was pressing and stretching my stiff limbs with practiced hands. When she saw I was awake, she quickly poured porridge from a thermos, blew on it, and brought the spoon to my lips. I ate contentedly and gave her a huge smile. “Mommy, smells… good.” But she did not smile. Tears only gathered thicker at the corners of her eyes. 4 I had never seen Mom suffer like that. It made me restless too. I kept wanting to scream for no reason. A woman in the same hospital room finally snapped. “Mrs. Parker, can you please control Sophie? She keeps making noise every day. None of us can get any peace.” Mom bowed and apologized again and again, pressing my head down with force. “Sophie, say sorry. It’s three simple words. Say it.” But I only made broken sounds and giggled. That day, Mom took my hand and brought me home. This time, she did not take a cab or a bus. She forced me to walk, pushing me forward as she shouted. “Sophie, walk. Walk!” I fell again and again. Her voice turned hoarse from shouting, but she still would not give up. It was as if she were clinging to the last thread inside her. Only after I was too exhausted to move, after I collapsed on the pavement and scared several passing children into tears, did Mom suddenly laugh. “Sophie, after all these years… maybe I should stop trying. Maybe I really can’t do this anymore.” Over the next few days, many strangers came to our home. In the end, Mom spoke for a long time with a kind-looking woman. Before leaving, the woman hesitated. “Grace, are you sure you want to sell such a good house?” Mom nodded firmly. Then she pushed a note into the woman’s hand. “This is my daughter Lily’s account. Send the money directly there. This is… what I owe her.” The woman nodded and left. Mom sat with me inside the emptied house, gently stroking my hair. “Sophie, from now on, Mommy will stay with you forever, okay?” I understood that sentence. It meant Mom and I would never be apart. I hurried to smile at her, bouncing clumsily with my unsteady hands and feet. My reflection in the glass looked like something frightening from TV. Then I suddenly remembered something. “Daddy. Lily…” Mom’s eyes went hollow. She stared at the shadows of trees outside the window and murmured to herself. “No Daddy. No Lily. Sophie, there’s nothing left.” She gripped my hand stiffly and walked with me for a long time. We went past all the places our family used to visit. The bakery where they bought my birthday cakes. The clothing store where Lily bought new outfits for college. The restaurant where Mom and Dad once celebrated their anniversary. At last, Mom carried me up to the roof of a building. It was the first time I had ever seen her smoke. She coughed until her throat sounded raw, but she did not stop. I grew too tired to stay awake, so Mom sang me a lullaby. Her voice drifted with the night wind, as if it had come from another world, heavy with a sadness I could not name. When dawn was close, Mom woke me and handed me a bottle of soda. “Sophie, cheers with Mommy.” I loved that gesture most. I knocked my bottle against hers hard and laughed. Then I saw a white pill bottle. The cap was open. Nothing was left inside. When Dad could not sleep, he always took things from that bottle. He had said many times that no one was allowed to touch it, or they might never wake up again. I looked at the powdery stuff settled at the bottom of Mom’s drink. Suddenly, I understood something. No. Mom could not never wake up. If she did, I would never talk to her again. Without thinking, I grabbed the bottle from Mom’s hand and drank it all myself. The moment it went down, a bitter taste pierced through me. And somehow, some part of me became clear. The child from the TV appeared in my mind. I staggered to the edge of the roof and copied her. Before she fell, she had said one line. “Without me, you’ll be happy.” Now those words came out of my mouth. “Mommy, without me, you’ll be happy.” I fell backward into the pale morning air. Above me was Mom’s scream, torn from the deepest part of her. I tried to lift my hand to wipe her tears. I had no strength. So I only whispered. “Mommy, don’t cry. You don’t have to ask what to do anymore. “Because Sophie figured it out.”

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Senior year was finally over, and my class was buzzing about a graduation trip. I stepped up and offered to have my family’s travel agency put together an exclusive package. A ten-day, nine-night grand tour across five European countries. All inclusive for just $2,500. My classmates were practically shoving their wallets into my hands, thrilled by the deal. That is, until Jessica, the undisputed queen bee of our class, suddenly spoke up. “We’re all classmates, Harper. Don’t you think it’s a little messed up to scam us like this?” She crossed her arms, her perfectly glossed lips set in a pout. “I was looking at another agency online. A full European tour is only $900. There are forty of us in this class. I can’t even imagine the kind of kickback you’re pocketing from this.” The hands reaching out to pay me froze in mid-air. “Sixteen hundred dollars is a massive difference. I could buy a new laptop with that.” “Yeah, maybe we should rethink this.” Just like that, the entire class pivoted, flocking to Jessica’s recommendation. I simply waved my hand, completely unbothered. Let them go. An all-inclusive European vacation for $2,500 meant the flights alone were eating up nearly two grand. My family was essentially subsidizing this trip as a graduation gift to my friends. I knew exactly which agency Jessica was talking about. A $900 European getaway? I could only wish them the best of luck surviving it. 1 “Two thousand five hundred is just absurd.” Jessica’s voice acted like a bucket of ice water dumped over the class’s excitement. Everyone stared at her, their eyes caught between confusion and shock. “Every agency is slashing prices right now. I was scrolling through TikTok last night and saw a sponsored stream for a twelve-day, seven-country European package. It’s literally $900.” To prove she wasn’t bluffing, she pulled out her phone and held it up. A flashy promotional flyer filled the screen, with a massive, bold red “$900 ONLY” stamped across the top left corner. I didn’t say a word. I just sat at my desk and watched them. I had grown up running errands and doing grunt work in my parents’ travel agency. I knew exactly how deep and dirty the water in this industry could get. There is no such thing as a free lunch in this world. And if a pie falls from the sky, it’s usually made of concrete. One of my closer friends in the back row chimed in, sounding hesitant. “Isn’t $900 a little too cheap? I looked up flights to Paris yesterday, and the absolute cheapest economy ticket was like twelve hundred bucks.” Jessica pulled her phone back, a smug, unwavering smile on her face. “I asked the streamer about that! This specific agency has massive government tourism subsidies backing them up. That’s why they can practically give the spots away. And they guaranteed in writing that there are zero forced shopping stops.” Hearing that, the skepticism in the room began to melt. A sixteen-hundred-dollar difference was impossible to ignore. Anyone in their right mind would at least pause to consider it. “Harper, I’m just looking out for everyone’s wallets. You won’t hold it against me, right?” Jessica batted her eyelashes, her tone dripping with fake innocence. “I mean, look at guys like Ben and Marcus. Their families are really struggling right now. $2,500 is way too heavy of a burden for them. I just want our whole class to be able to make memories in Europe together.” She specifically named the guys who were on full financial aid. It was true, their families didn’t have much to spare. I nodded, keeping my expression entirely neutral. “Of course not. I was only providing an option. Nobody is holding a gun to anyone’s head.” I let a beat pass before I added my warning. “But $900 for that kind of itinerary is dangerously cheap. I highly suggest you guys look into the fine print before handing over your money.” Jessica’s smile instantly went stiff. Being publicly challenged by me clearly bruised her ego. “Give it a rest, Harper. You can fool them, but you can’t fool me.” She rolled her eyes. “Everyone knows your family’s agency loves to lock tourists in shady souvenir shops until they buy overpriced garbage. You guys literally made the local news.” I shifted my gaze to Liam. Our families had known each other for years. His parents were executives at a major airline and did a lot of B2B business with my parents. Everyone in class knew we had history. So when he stood up and echoed Jessica’s accusation, his words carried the lethal weight of an insider’s testimony. Instantly, the way my classmates looked at me shifted. The excitement turned into cold, hard suspicion. “Harper, I’m starting to think your package is a rip-off. I’m going with Jessica’s group.” “Can you refund my Venmo? My mom said I should take the cheaper option.” The same people who were cheering my name ten minutes ago were now crowding my desk, demanding their deposits back. I pulled out my phone and processed every single refund without a flinch. The $2,500 price tag was already a charity case from my parents. If they didn’t want to go, they were just saving my family thousands of dollars. 2 Once the refunds hit their accounts, the entire class officially defected to Jessica’s group. After school, I headed straight to the agency. Summer vacation was peak season. The phones were ringing off the hook, and my parents were closing massive corporate retreats left and right. “You can cancel the reservations for my class’s European trip,” I told them, dropping my backpack on a chair. “They thought the price was too high.” My parents stared at me in absolute disbelief. “Two thousand five hundred is too high?” my mom asked, her jaw dropping. “I literally priced that at a loss just because they’re your friends.” I gave a dry hum of agreement and laid out exactly what happened in the classroom. My dad frowned, leaning back in his office chair. “Liam actually threw us under the bus? Our corporate contract with his parents’ airline is up for renewal next week. They’ve been calling me non-stop begging me to sign. After this, I think we’ll take our business elsewhere.” My mom scoffed, crossing her arms. “And that forced shopping rumor? What a joke. People love to run their mouths without knowing the facts.” The ‘forced shopping’ incident was a nightmare from last year. A married client went abroad and bought his mistress an authentic luxury bag. When he came back, he bought a cheap counterfeit replica and gave it to his wife. The wife noticed the bad stitching and lost her mind. To cover his tracks, the husband blamed our tour guide, claiming they locked him in a counterfeit shop and forced him to buy it. The couple actually came to our agency and threw a massive tantrum demanding compensation. Liam knew the truth. I had vented to him about the whole ridiculous drama when it happened. Yet today, he deliberately twisted the story to smear my family’s business in front of everyone. “It’s a blessing in disguise,” my dad said, softening his tone to comfort me. “We were going to bleed money on that trip anyway. Weren’t you begging to go to the Maldives? Next month, we’ll shut off our phones and take a family vacation.” I smiled and agreed. Right on cue, a VIP client walked through the glass doors, and my parents snapped into professional mode, rushing over to greet them. I sat down and checked my phone. I had a new message request. It was Sarah, the class president from the homeroom next door. We knew each other from running the school radio station. She knew my family owned an agency and was asking about summer group rates. I pulled up the exact same European itinerary I had designed for my class and forwarded it to her. Except this time, I deleted the $2,500 charity rate and typed in the actual retail price. $3,500. I was done doing favors. My phone rang almost immediately. I braced myself for her to complain about the cost, but the second I answered, she sounded breathless. “Thirty-five hundred? Harper, are you serious? Did you forget a zero or something?” I blinked, genuinely caught off guard. “No, it’s $3,500. But to be completely transparent, our tours have absolutely zero hidden fees or mandatory shopping stops. What you see is what you pay.” “I totally trust you,” Sarah said happily. “My grandma went on one of your senior cruise packages last year and she hasn’t stopped raving about your family’s service.” We ironed out the details, and Sarah promised to come to the agency tomorrow to drop off the deposit for her entire class. My parents had already spent hours securing block reservations for flights and hotels for my class. If my class backed out, we would have eaten the cancellation fees. But now, Sarah’s class was sliding perfectly into those reserved slots. It was a flawless save. Just as I hung up, a notification popped up. Jessica had tagged everyone in our senior class group chat. Every single person had officially booked her $900 trip. She had collected all the funds and was now demanding everyone send pictures of their passports to finalize the bookings. I was about to mute the chat when a new notification popped up. Jessica had tagged me directly. “@Harper, you haven’t sent me your money yet. This is our final graduation trip. If you don’t come, you’re deliberately destroying our class unity.” 3 Staring at the glowing screen, a harsh laugh escaped my throat. When did I ever agree to go? They were making decisions for me and trying to publicly guilt-trip me into compliance. “When you pitched this trip, you said participation was voluntary. I am voluntarily opting out. End of discussion.” I hit send, then immediately went to the settings and left the group chat entirely. We had graduated. There was absolutely no reason to stay tied to these people anymore. The next morning, Sarah walked into the agency right on schedule. My mom and I sat her down in the VIP lounge with fresh coffee. “This $3,500 covers round-trip direct flights, visa processing, a fully bilingual tour guide, all four-star accommodations, and three meals a day,” I explained, sliding the glossy brochure across the glass table. “It hits all the major historical landmarks. You guys literally don’t have to use your brains for ten days. Just follow the guide and have fun.” Sarah flipped through the packet, her eyes lighting up more with every page. The last page was a compilation of reviews from previous student groups. They were unfiltered and real. Even the few negative reviews were just standard travel complaints about jet lag or walking too much, nothing to do with the agency’s integrity. I AirDropped the digital version to her, and she immediately forwarded it to her class chat. Her phone started pinging like a slot machine. “This is incredible. My whole class is in. We can wire the money today!” My mom and I exchanged a look. My mom pulled out a stack of crisp, formal documents. “We need these signed first. Even though most of you are eighteen now, your parents are the ones funding this trip. We absolutely require a signed parental consent and emergency contact form before we take a dime.” Sarah respected the professionalism. She took the stack of forms and promised to return in three days with the signatures and the full payment. I walked Sarah out to the parking lot. As she was getting into her car, a familiar figure stepped into my line of sight. Liam marched right up to me, his chest puffed out with unearned arrogance. “Jessica just told me the news,” he said, practically beaming. “The agency she booked with was so thrilled we brought them a forty-person group that they comped one ticket. The class took a vote, and we decided to give the free spot to you. You don’t have to pay a cent, and you still get to come.” I stared at him, utterly baffled. What kind of bizarre obsession did they have with me? Why were they trying so desperately to drag me onto this sketchy trip? A cold sliver of suspicion slid down my spine. This wasn’t just peer pressure anymore. This felt like a setup. My eyes hardened into chips of ice. “I don’t need your charity. I am not going on that trip. Give it up.” Liam’s face flushed with immediate anger. “Why are you being such an ungrateful bitch? Jessica is trying to save everyone money. Unlike you, who clearly sold your soul for a quick buck. You’re getting a free vacation to Europe, you should be on your knees thanking her.” I didn’t need their $900. And my reason for staying behind was simple. I valued my life. Going overseas on a dirt-cheap, unverified tour group was a massive gamble. Once you land in a foreign country, you are completely at their mercy. “Does your mom even know you’re flying to Europe on a discount budget tour?” I asked, my voice deadly quiet. “Stop harassing me, Liam. Or I’ll call Mrs. Wright right now and tell her exactly what you’re doing.” Liam was a spoiled rich kid. He was an only child, and his parents watched him like a hawk. If they knew he was flying halfway across the world with a sketchy $900 agency, they would lock him in his bedroom until college started. Right on cue, his arrogant sneer faltered. He fell dead silent. It took him a long moment to recover his voice. “You’re a real piece of work, Harper. Just wait.” Sarah, who had been watching the entire exchange through her rolled-down window, looked at me in disbelief. “Why are you fighting them so hard on a free trip?” “They found some random agency online charging $900 for a ten-day European tour. I like living. I’m not going.” Sarah let out a sharp laugh. “$900? There’s definitely going to be some aggressive forced shopping. Once you’re out there, they’ll confiscate your passports and lock you in a warehouse until you max out your credit cards. They have zero survival instincts.” I didn’t reply. Forced shopping was the best-case scenario. My worst fear was that this agency didn’t want their money. They wanted their lives.

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Five years into our relationship, a catastrophic earthquake struck, forcing Declan to make a life-or-death choice. He completely ignored my crushed leg. Instead, he frantically clawed through the rubble to dig out his childhood sweetheart, a girl who barely had a scratch on her. He threw a bank card onto my chest. “There is a million dollars on this. It is more than enough to cover your amputation and let you live out the rest of your life in comfort.” “Don’t ever contact us again. Alice is easily frightened, and seeing an amputee will give her nightmares.” I didn’t scream or cry. I simply watched him scoop her into his arms and sprint toward the medical tents without a single backward glance. Meanwhile, I was left alone in the dirt, surviving the terrifying aftershocks and losing my leg just to stay alive. One year later, walking on a high-tech prosthetic, I ran into Declan at a luxury charity gala. He gripped my wrist like a vice, his voice trembling violently. “Aria… you are alive? I only saved her first because I thought her injuries were fatal!” He pleaded that his hands were tied, begging me for just one more chance to make it right. I smiled, gracefully peeling his fingers off my arm. “That is unfortunate. I am already married, and I just found out I am pregnant with twins.” 1 The aftershocks of the massive earthquake had barely faded when David threw the glossy black bank card onto my dust-covered chest. All around us, the terrifying sound of snapping concrete and the distant screams of trapped survivors filled the air. My right leg was pinned beneath a massive concrete slab. The flesh was mutilated beyond recognition. I had long since lost all feeling below my knee. “The pin is your birthday.” David did not even bother to bend down. His arms were wrapped tightly around a trembling Alice. Alice had a superficial scrape on her cheek. A few tiny beads of blood welled up from the scratch. “David, I’m so scared. We need to leave right now, the roof is going to cave in again.” Alice buried her face into the crook of his neck. Her voice was soft, fragile, and quivering with tears. David immediately tightened his grip on her. When his eyes flicked down to me, they held nothing but impatience and disgust. “Did you hear me, Aria? A million dollars. That buys out the last five years we spent together.” “That money is more than enough for you to get an amputation at a top-tier hospital. You can buy a high-end prosthetic and move to some quiet suburban town. You’ll live a comfortable life.” I gasped for air. My lungs felt like they were lined with crushed glass, and every breath tasted like copper and blood. I stared at the man I had loved for five long years. He was Manhattan’s golden boy, the heir to a massive empire. He always wore a mask of cold indifference to the world, reserving his rare moments of warmth solely for me. I used to think that warmth was love. Now I realized I was nothing more than a convenient, well-behaved stand-in. He only dated me because his childhood sweetheart had moved to Europe. Now that his true love was back, and we were staring death in the face, the stand-in naturally became dead weight. “Are you really going to leave?” I asked, my voice completely hoarse, fighting to keep my tone steady. “With my leg trapped like this, I might not survive until the rescue teams get here.” David frowned, his jaw tightening as if weighing his options. Right on cue, Alice let out a pathetic little whimper. “David, I think the concrete is shifting again…” The color drained from David’s face. He shot me one final, chilling look. “If you’re meant to live, you’ll survive. If you don’t make it, that’s just fate.” “Alice is easily frightened. Seeing you covered in all this blood is going to give her nightmares. Don’t ever show your face to us again.” Without a single ounce of hesitation, he turned his back on me. He carried Alice over the jagged ruins and sprinted toward the flashing lights of the emergency responders in the distance. He never looked back. I lay alone in the freezing rubble, my fingers curling tightly around the bloodstained bank card. What an absolute joke. Five years of devotion and my right leg, all traded for a million dollars. David probably thought he took a massive loss on this deal. I thought I made a profit. Finding out the man you loved was a heartless animal is an expensive lesson to learn. I don’t know how much time passed before I heard the chaotic shouting above me. “We’ve got a survivor down here! She’s pinned under a structural beam!” “Bring the stretcher! Now!” Blinding flashlight beams hit my face, forcing my eyes shut. I forced my cracked lips to move, speaking to the blurry silhouettes above me. “Thank you. I’m not dead yet.” Just before the darkness took me, I heard a paramedic’s grim voice. “The leg is completely crushed. We have to amputate right now.” That was fine. Whether it was a useless leg or a worthless man, rotting things needed to be cut off completely. 2 When I woke up, I was staring at the canvas ceiling of a temporary military hospital tent. The anesthesia had worn off. The space where my right leg used to be was entirely empty, yet a bone-deep, agonizing phantom pain flared through my nerves. It felt like thousands of ants were chewing through my nerve endings, constantly reminding me that I was permanently disabled. A nurse was changing my bandages. Seeing my eyes open, her own eyes welled with tears. “You are so incredibly brave, honey. You didn’t make a single sound during the entire operation.” I wanted to smile, but my facial muscles were stiff and unresponsive. I wasn’t brave. My heart was just so completely shattered that my body forgot how to process physical pain. An older man in the cot next to mine let out a heavy sigh and handed me a peeled orange segment. “As long as you’re breathing, you’re winning. There is always hope.” I took the orange and popped it into my mouth. The citrus was so intensely sour that tears immediately streamed down my face. I reached for my phone on the bedside table. The cell service was spotty at best. I opened Twitter, expecting to see news about the earthquake casualties. Instead, the number one trending hashtag completely paralyzed me. [Manhattan Elite Heir Shows True Love in Earthquake Debris, Refuses to Abandon Girlfriend]. Attached was a grainy photo taken in the dark. Against the backdrop of the ruined resort, David was fiercely shielding Alice in his arms. His eyes were wide with panic and profound devotion. The comment section was throwing a massive parade for them. [Oh my god, this is cinematic true love. Standing together in the face of death!] [I need a man who makes me feel this safe. He is literally a knight in shining armor.] [Wishing them a lifetime of happiness. Real love thrives in tragedy!] Scrolling further, I finally spotted a single, dissenting comment. [Am I crazy, or didn’t David have a long-term girlfriend he’s been dating for five years? Where is she?] A verified account immediately replied beneath it. [Oh, her? I heard she was so terrified of dying that she pushed people out of the way and ran off by herself. Alice actually got injured because she refused to leave David’s side.] [Trash women like that deserve to be dumped. Good riddance.] I locked my phone, my stomach churning violently. I was the coward who ran away? Alice’s ability to completely invert reality was truly a masterclass in manipulation. She was the one who threw a tantrum and forced David to bring her to this specific mountain resort for the weekend. When the earthquake hit, I was the one who physically shoved David under the reinforced doorframe, taking the direct hit from the collapsing ceiling. And now, I was the villain who abandoned my lover. Incredible. I stared down at the flat, empty space beneath my hospital blanket. The tiny trace of sorrow left in my chest completely evaporated, replaced by a freezing, calculated rage. David. Alice. We had a massive debt to settle, and I was going to collect every single penny. A month later, I was transferred to a top-tier private hospital back in the city. The million dollars, combined with my own savings, was more than enough to afford a private luxury suite and the best physical therapists in the country. The doctors told me my stump was healing perfectly, and I was ready to begin fitting for a prosthetic. Rehab was a brutal, endless nightmare. During the adjustment period, the friction from the socket rubbed the scarred skin of my stump raw. Every single step felt like walking barefoot on shattered glass. But I never shed a single tear. Compared to the suffocating despair of being buried alive beneath concrete, this pain was absolutely nothing. One afternoon, I was walking through the hospital’s private garden, heavily leaning on my forearm crutches. A young man was sitting on a park bench. His right arm was encased in a thick plaster cast, suspended by a sling around his neck. He was screaming into his phone, looking absolutely feral. “I’m not going! If the old man wants to go on a blind date, he can marry her himself! My arm is literally broken, and he wants me to go network for a corporate marriage?” “It’s broken! I’m going to be a one-armed bandit! Can you just find me a nurse to bring me a beer instead?” “I don’t give a damn about the family business! I want to race my cars! I want to live my life!” He aggressively ended the call and chucked his brand-new iPhone onto the manicured grass. He looked up, huffing like an angry bull, and locked eyes with me. He had an obnoxiously handsome face, with sharp eyebrows and bright eyes, though he looked like he severely lacked common sense. Realizing I was staring, he blinked, the tips of his ears turning a faint shade of red. “What are you looking at? Never seen a gorgeous guy throw a tantrum before?” His tone was aggressive, like a golden retriever trying to act tough. 3 The next day, I ran into the human golden retriever again. My physical therapist told me his name was Jaxon Cole, the youngest son of the absurdly wealthy Cole family. He was a victim of his own good intentions. During the earthquake, he had driven up to the disaster zone to volunteer with the rescue teams. A secondary landslide crushed his arm with a boulder, landing him in this hospital for the past month. His elite family was constantly pressuring him to take over the corporate empire, but he was obsessed with extreme sports and professional racing. He was currently staging a dramatic runaway attempt from his own family. His backstory sounded remarkably familiar. I ignored him and focused on placing one crutch in front of the other. But Jaxon was apparently the type of person who had never met a stranger in his life. Or maybe he was just bored out of his mind. He walked over, picked up one of my resting crutches, and swung it around like a golf club. “Hey, how did you lose it?” He pointed down at my leg. If anyone else had asked me that so bluntly, I would have swung my remaining crutch at their head. But his eyes were entirely clear. It was pure, unfiltered curiosity. There was no pity, no malice, and no awkward tiptoeing. “Earthquake. Crushed by a ceiling,” I said flatly. “No way, me too.” He tapped his plaster cast. “But I got hurt pulling people out. Let me guess, you were one of the people getting pulled out?” “You could say that,” I replied, not bothering to explain the betrayal. “That prosthetic leg looks insane, though. You look like the Terminator.” He squatted down, genuinely fascinated as he inspected the sleek, exposed carbon-fiber shaft of my new leg. I couldn’t help but laugh at his absurdity. “Looking cool is useless. I can’t even run.” “Who says you need to run? Once my arm heals, I’ll take you out to the track. You don’t need a right leg to drift a sports car.” Jaxon thumped his chest proudly, which instantly jolted his broken arm. He hissed in pain, his face contorting into a grimace. Just like that, we became bizarre hospital friends. He never shut up. He complained constantly, told terrible jokes, and spent hours roasting his strict older brother. Having him around made the grueling, agonizing rehab sessions significantly more tolerable. Just when I thought my life was finally stabilizing into a peaceful routine, the past decided to crawl out of the gutter to ruin my day. I was at an upscale mall shopping for shoes. Because of my prosthetic, I only needed to try the shoe on my left foot. The sales associate was incredibly sweet, bringing out a pair of soft, flat-soled leather loafers for me. Just as I slipped my foot into the shoe, a sickeningly familiar voice echoed behind me. “David, look at these heels! Aren’t they gorgeous? But do you think wearing flats would make my legs look too short?” I froze completely. The floor-to-ceiling mirror in front of me reflected two figures walking into the boutique. David was wearing a bespoke tailored suit, looking every bit the pristine aristocrat. Alice was clinging to his bicep, dressed in a flowing white sundress. The absolute picture of a fragile, innocent saint. Of all the boutiques in Manhattan, they had to walk into this one. I had zero energy for their drama. I grabbed my purse and stood up, ready to pay and leave. But Alice’s eyes were like radar. She spotted me instantly. “Oh my gosh, is that Aria?” She dramatically covered her mouth with her hand. Her eyes darted down to my exposed prosthetic leg. A flash of twisted satisfaction danced in her eyes, but she immediately arranged her features into a mask of pure terror. “Oh my god, your leg… you really had it amputated? It looks so terrifying. It’s like a robot part.” She shrank backward, burying her face into David’s chest, acting as if my very existence was a horror movie. David’s gaze swept over my mechanical leg, his eyebrows instantly knitting into a tight, disgusted knot. “Aria, didn’t I explicitly tell you to stay out of our sight?” “You know Alice is incredibly sensitive. Are you walking around like that just to purposely give her a panic attack?” A dry, harsh laugh escaped my throat. Did he think his family owned the entire city? I turned around, my eyes locking onto the two of them with absolute zero-degree hostility. 4 “That’s a fascinating perspective, David. Last time I checked, the earth doesn’t revolve around your ego. I’m just here buying shoes. How exactly does my presence traumatize your fragile little princess?” “And please, spare me the theatrics. She looks perfectly healthy going on a luxury shopping spree. I thought she was on her deathbed back in the rubble?” Alice’s face turned completely pale. Tears pooled in her eyes on command. “Aria, I know you hate the fact that David saved me first. But it was a life-or-death emergency… do you really have to be so cruel and aggressive?” The other wealthy shoppers in the boutique started whispering, throwing judgmental glances my way. “Wow, what is her problem? The girl literally apologized.” “Right? I mean, it’s sad that she’s disabled, but she doesn’t have to guilt-trip them like a psycho.” Hearing the crowd take his side, David’s posture straightened. He looked down at me like a god judging a peasant. He pulled out his wallet, slipped out a sleek black titanium credit card, and tossed it onto the glass display counter. “I am buying every single pair of shoes in this boutique. Except for the cheap ones she has on her feet. Aria, take your garbage and get the hell out of here. Stop polluting our air.” The heavy metal card spun on the glass, making a sharp, mocking sound. It was a perfect reenactment of the day he threw the bank card on my dying body. I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms, drawing crescent moons of blood. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the absolute freezing hatred in my chest. This was the man I gave five years of my life to. To save him, I sacrificed a piece of my body and almost bled to death in the dirt. And now, just to make his manipulative new girlfriend smile, he was perfectly willing to strip away my dignity and stomp on it in public. The sales associate looked completely panicked, glancing between the black card and my face. “Sir, we have a policy of first-come, first-served. This lady was already purchasing this pair…” “Shut up and swipe the card,” David ordered, not even looking at the employee. “I want the entire inventory. Everything except what she’s touching.” Alice tugged at his sleeve, putting on her best empathetic, angelic voice. “David, don’t be so harsh on her. Aria is physically disabled now. Her mental state must be so fragile and insecure.” “Those loafers are incredibly cheap and poorly made, they totally don’t fit our lifestyle anyway. But to Aria, they might be the only thing she can afford. Let’s not fight her over trash.” She took a deliberate step back, raising a silk handkerchief to her nose as if my proximity carried a disease. Her eyes lingered on the metallic joint of my prosthetic for one second too long. “Life as a cripple is hard enough. It’s totally normal for her to wear bargain bin shoes. Let her have them, she’s pathetic enough as it is.” The crowd of onlookers grew larger by the second. David let out a cold, arrogant scoff. “Did you hear that, Aria? My Alice is an absolute saint. Consider this an act of charity.” I took a slow, deep breath. Hold it in? Screw that. If you give sociopaths an inch, they will bury you alive. I reached out and grabbed the soft leather loafer off the display. If he loved throwing money around so much, I was going to introduce the heel of this shoe directly to his arrogant face. My arm tensed, ready to swing. Before I could launch the shoe, a large hand wrapped in white medical bandages suddenly slammed down onto the glass counter, pinning David’s titanium card in place. A lazy, highly amused, and utterly arrogant voice echoed through the quiet boutique. “Well, well. If it isn’t the great David. Running around in broad daylight playing Sugar Daddy?”

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1 After serving prison time for the second crime I had taken the blame for, I received a call from across time. The “me” on the screen was wearing a wedding dress, holding a confession statement in her hand, her face glowing with joy. “You’re me seven years from now, right? Did Ryan and I finally get married? Do we have two adorable kids?” My cracked lips split and bled. My voice came out rough and ugly. “We got married. The name on the certificate is yours, but you were never allowed to stand in the light. There are kids too. They’re not yours, but they’re registered under your name.” Seeing my pale, gaunt face and the faded prison uniform full of holes, her smile froze. Her voice trembled. “Wasn’t it only supposed to be three years? What does this mean?” I looked at the wrinkled document in her hand and laughed coldly. “The first time, you took the fall for your pregnant best friend. She finished the wedding in your place. The second time, after you took the blame again, she gave birth to Ryan’s second child.” “I don’t believe you. They’re the most important people in my life. How could they…” I turned the camera away from the prison behind me and toward the family of four who had just come to pick me up. Her voice stopped. No wonder. The two children looked far too much like Ryan. As his childhood sweetheart, she knew his face better than anyone. “So,” I asked her, “what will you choose this time?” Before she could answer, my old phone died. The two children hiding behind Vanessa looked at me. One made no effort to hide his disgust. The other covered half of her face in fear. “Mommy, is she a bad person? And why is she wearing beggar clothes?” Vanessa scolded softly, “Don’t be rude. She’s your godmother.” Ryan’s hand froze as he draped a coat over Vanessa’s shoulders. He looked at the wreck I had become, and guilt surfaced on his face. “Sorry. I made you wait too long today. I came in a rush and forgot to bring you clothes.” “As for Vanessa’s coat… it’s just habit.” Once, I was the one who had taught him that habit. Now he gave it to someone else and expected me to understand. I stared at him. “I waited for you for twelve hours. Since seven this morning…” “Emma, I’m so sorry.” Vanessa’s eyes reddened as she cut me off. “Ryan had to wait for me because I couldn’t miss the award ceremony today. If you want to blame someone, blame me.” With perfect sweetness, she tried to take off the coat and hand it to me. “Let’s go home first, okay? I asked the housekeeper to make your favorite dishes.” Ryan stopped her at once. “Emma is stronger than you. It’s fall now, and the nights are cold. What if you get sick?” He remembered that Vanessa caught colds easily. He did not remember that I hated the cold. The little girl looked up at them and smiled. “If Mommy gets sick, Daddy will feed her medicine with his mouth again! I promise I won’t peek this time!” The innocent words made both adults go stiff. Vanessa pretended nothing had happened and kept taking off the coat. I walked around her and went to the car. “No thanks. I don’t like wearing dirty things.” Ryan’s face darkened. “Vanessa once took a knife for you. She saved your life. How can you say that about her?” I shut the car door without giving him another glance. “What else do you want from me? Was seven years of my life not enough?” Ryan looked at me as I closed my eyes and refused to speak. Panic flashed through his gaze. “That’s not what I meant…” But the woman beside him started crying, and his attention was pulled away at once. “I knew Emma would hate me!” “What am I supposed to do, Ryan? In high school, I was poor and everyone shut me out. Emma was the one who helped me. I always wanted us to go back to the way we were, but she…” Back then, I had pitied her stubborn, resilient pride and become her closest friend. She had also been stabbed more than a dozen times while saving me from a group of thugs. She lost a kidney because of it. I thought we had a friendship that would last until death. Now I only regretted it. If I had not stuck my nose into her business back then, those thugs would never have come after me. And I would not have been stupid enough to destroy my future repaying a so-called life debt. As soon as Vanessa cried, three accusing gazes fell on me. As if I were the one who had done something wrong. But I was too tired to argue. After Ryan carried the sobbing, limp Vanessa into the passenger seat, he threw me a dissatisfied look. When I did not react, his brows tightened in irritation. After we got home, he took me to the basement, which had only one small window. He said he was afraid I would smash things again and make Vanessa feel guilty. I did not fight him. I simply plugged in my phone to charge. He thought I was deliberately sulking. “Emma Reed, stop acting like the whole world owes you.” “The first time, you volunteered. The second time, who can you blame? You brought that on yourself.” “Yes, I signed the consent form for your mother’s surgery behind your back. But the surgery going badly wasn’t entirely the surgeon’s fault. Did you really have to lose your head and call the police?” The thread holding me together snapped. I threw a glass of water at him. “Get out!” Ryan watched me coldly. “Emma, stop acting crazy. You’re already in your thirties. You don’t want a third criminal record, do you?” Then he turned and left, leaving the shattered glass on the floor. My phone, now powered on, gave a burst of static. Then came the angry, choked voice of my seven-years-younger self. “What right does he have to put you in the basement? You bought that house together. What does it have to do with Vanessa?” Only then did I realize that even when my phone had been dead, she could still hear everything around me. “So later, when you took the blame for her again, you were framed?” I nodded. The hatred inside me rose with the memory. “Vanessa’s second major surgery failed. The patient was my mother.” The breathing on the other end seemed to stop. “That’s impossible. Mom’s surgery was discussed with my professor’s team. She needed at least five years of recovery before her condition was stable enough.” My nails dug into my palm. The pain in my chest sharpened. “It was moved up. One year after I got out of prison. Vanessa needed an assessment for a promotion, and Mom’s case happened to be rare. If it succeeded, Vanessa would get both fame and status.” “But Vanessa didn’t have the skill. She left Mom in a vegetative state and nearly killed her.” “So I called the police and contacted the media.” “Only at the key moment, Ryan gave false testimony.” And I became the shameless doctor who used her own mother as an experiment to return to the operating room, then tried to frame her best friend. The younger me’s emotions began to crumble. “If life was that miserable, you should have left them.” With the old me’s temper, I would have. But seven years had changed far too much. I rolled up my sleeve. From my right wrist to my forearm ran a terrifying scar. “No money. No way to work. Mom is still in the hospital, and it takes a fortune to keep her alive long enough for any chance of waking up. I can’t leave yet.” The year I was released, I thought I had repaid my debt. I thought I could finally start living my own life. On the very day Ryan and I collected our marriage certificate, Vanessa moved into our home with her child. Only then did I slowly notice something was wrong. The two of them knew that house too well. Later, Vanessa cried and said, “Emma, I really had no choice. The child can’t live without his father, and he can’t live without the home he’s known for three years.” Ryan confessed. “When we were engaged, Vanessa and I got drunk and crossed the line. But it only happened once.” Just moments earlier, I had shared the news of my pregnancy with him. The pain of betrayal swallowed me whole. I smashed everything in the house, then raised my hand and slapped Vanessa again and again. Her four-year-old son glared at me with hatred. When I felt pain in my lower belly and tried to go downstairs, he shoved me from behind. Blood stained the floor. Some was from my body. Some was from my wrist. On the way to the hospital, Ryan carried me in his arms and still defended them. “Emma, Vanessa didn’t know you were pregnant. If she had, she wouldn’t have chosen today to come. And don’t blame Dylan. He’s little. He doesn’t understand…” That day, my mother and I were in the same hospital ward. Because of anesthesia, I was unconscious for a long time. When I woke and heard that Mom’s surgery had failed, it was like being struck by lightning. I could not accept that the person responsible for my child’s death had harmed my mother on the same day. How could I let that go? When I wanted Vanessa to pay for her greed, Ryan said he would help me. I was too heartbroken and physically weak. I never imagined that my childhood sweetheart would turn on me at the last second, pinning every mistake perfectly on me. I still remembered the coldness in his eyes when he sent me to prison for the second time. “Emma, you refused to listen and insisted on making things worse. You tried to ruin Vanessa’s career out of jealousy. This is what you brought on yourself.” “I spent so much time cleaning up Vanessa’s mess. I deliberately delayed getting treatment for your hand to teach you a lesson. Reflect on yourself this time.” “As for the baby, Vanessa and I can give you another one…” That memory was too painful. If Ryan had not told me my mother still had a chance, I never would have survived. The figure in the video stayed still for a long time, until the screen went dark. The next morning, as soon as I sat at the dining table, Ryan transferred money to me. “From now on, your monthly allowance is one thousand. Anything else you need, I’ll buy for you.” “Tell me when you run out.” He no longer gave me his secondary card. Because the money he had once given me as compensation had all been used to contact the media, almost dragging the woman he loved into danger. I accepted the transfer. I did not dare hope too much from that phone call from the past. Now all I wanted was to endure until Mom woke up, gather evidence, sue for divorce, take my share of the assets, and leave for the home that truly belonged to me. But even that tiny wish was too much for some people to allow. During breakfast, while Vanessa busied herself serving me, her son Dylan spoke innocently. “Daddy, for my birthday tomorrow, I want Grandma Lorraine’s house. Can I have it?” My left hand trembled around my fork. Because my mother’s name was Lorraine. Vanessa’s voice turned sharp. She refused at once. “No!” Realizing she had lost control, she softened her tone. “Dylan, you’re seven now. Be sensible. That belongs to your godmother.” Dylan pouted. “Why not? She’s lying in the hospital and never wakes up anyway. Leaving the house empty is a waste.” His little sister set down her bowl, eyes shining with excitement. “Yeah, Rosie wants it too! Grandma Lorraine’s children’s room is better than the one at home. Dylan and I love playing there.” “And the new swing, and the swimming pool they made after digging up the garden… I love all of it!” Vanessa’s face went white. “Emma, don’t listen to children talking nonsense. They remembered the wrong place.” With a loud crash, I stood so fast my chair fell backward. My ears rang. “Ryan Campbell! You took the woman who hurt my mother into my family home? What gave you the right?” Every blade of grass in that place was precious to me. But they had not only gone there. They had changed it. Ryan’s guilty look was quickly replaced by anger. “Enough! Don’t talk like that in front of the kids!” I swept the bowls off the table. Vanessa hugged the children and hid in the corner, trembling. I ignored their performance and grabbed my phone before walking out. When I got to the house, everything looked strange. The garden was gone. The swing my father had installed for me before he died had been replaced. Ryan knew how much I cherished it. Inside, all the furniture and decor had changed too, remodeled in the exact style of our marital home. Vanessa’s favorite style. Even my bedroom was filled with photos of their family of four. Anger made my vision go dark. A pair of hands caught me steadily from behind. It was Ryan. He held a contract and a bank card. His voice was full of helpless compromise. “Emma, I’ve transferred all the money for buying the house into your new card. It just needs to be linked to a phone number, but I can only give it to you later.” He handed me a pen. “After you sign, I’ll take you to see your mom tomorrow. Her medical bills need to be paid too.” I looked up in disbelief. “You’re threatening me?” He looked out at the river view and sighed. “It’s not a threat. It’s a fair trade.” “After your mother’s surgery failed, Vanessa couldn’t recover for a long time. She said she liked river views, so I brought her here.” “And Dylan has been having nightmares because of you. This house can be your apology gift for scaring him.” I had no choice. Fighting the dizziness, I gritted my teeth and signed. “Ryan Campbell, I have no home left. Are you happy now?” Maybe the emptiness in my eyes was too obvious. Before he left, he even silenced his ringing phone and tried to comfort me. “Don’t say that. Isn’t our marital home your home? You still have me. You still have Vanessa. Your mom is waiting for you too.” “I changed the hospital contact information to yours. From now on, you can be there for all her treatment.” But I never got the tomorrow he promised. That night, I received a call from the hospital. “Ms. Reed! Your mother’s surgery failed, and she’s being resuscitated. Please come to the hospital immediately!” The words “surgery failed” struck my chest numb. After I smashed open the basement lock, I realized no one was in the house. On the table, there was nothing but that bank card. The familiar helplessness and despair spread through my body. When I arrived at the hospital, Ryan was holding Vanessa. “It’s not your fault. You only suggested making her sign because you wanted to give Emma a surprise.” “If anyone’s to blame, it’s her mother’s poor health. This surgery had a low chance of success no matter who performed it. Tomorrow I’ll come up with a reason…” I could not listen anymore. “A reason to keep stalling?” Ryan instantly released Vanessa and shielded her behind him. “The document you forced me to sign. Was the surgery consent form inside it?” He looked at my bleeding hands, and pity flickered in his eyes. His silence was the answer. With shaking fingers, I pressed “confirm” on my phone. When Ryan saw the payment notice in my hand, his pupils tightened. “How did you know…” “The password wasn’t hard to guess. Vanessa’s birthday, right?” The million-dollar balance was drained to zero. Vanessa’s face filled with fear. Hearing chaotic footsteps from the stairwell, Ryan slapped me across the face. “You’re insane!” I spat blood and laughed until tears came. “Yes. I should’ve gone insane the first time you lied to me.” Even now, they were still trying to use Mom to threaten me. But I had once been a doctor too. How could I not know the success rate of that surgery? Camera flashes burst around us. Then the emergency room door opened. The doctor lowered his head. “I’m sorry. We did everything we could. We couldn’t save her.” The moment my prediction became reality, I still could not stand. Under that enormous blow, my consciousness fell into darkness. When I woke, the only thing beside me was an urn. All traces of the surgery were now impossible to verify. Ryan apologized to me with dark circles under his eyes, still using the same old excuse. I did not understand Vanessa’s good intentions. All I knew was that I had not even seen my mother one last time. “Ryan Campbell! I’ll use our marriage to hold you accountable. You and Vanessa won’t get away with this!” He did not react as I hit and clawed at him. “You can’t. The marriage certificate in your hand is fake.” I froze. He explained it word by word. “The kids can’t have a mother with a criminal record. That kind of stain would make them hold their heads down for life.” He grabbed me. “Vanessa cried all night in remorse. She’s terrified whenever she picks up a scalpel now.” “Apologize to her first and help untie the knot in her heart. Then explain things to the media. After the kids become adults, I’ll divorce her and marry you. Things will get better eventually.” I ripped myself free and backed toward the window, clutching my mother’s urn. “There is no eventually.” Rain and wind struck my face from outside, but they could not compare to even a fraction of the pain inside me. “Aren’t you always asking me to apologize?” Ryan saw the dead stillness in my eyes and instinctively reached out. When he lunged forward, he caught nothing. “Then this time, I’ll pay with my life…” From above, a heartbroken scream overlapped with the girl’s voice from that phone call. “Emma! Don’t!”

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1 I’ve had severe separation anxiety since childhood. Ten minutes out of sight, and I’d scream like a beagle, throwing the house into chaos. So, the moment my adoptive parents realized I was the Kensingtons’ biological heiress, they packed me off to the billionaire estate overnight. But the Kensingtons didn’t welcome me. Mother wired five million from Wall Street with a text: “Be good. Don’t come looking for me until it’s gone.” Father signed over a sprawling estate via his London office. Barbara, the fake heiress running the company, was ice-cold: “I have no love to give, but take all the cash you want.” For six months, I hadn’t seen a single one of them. Desperate for affection, not money, I posted a photo of my walk-in vault and nine-figure bank account online. The comments exploded with accusations of humblebragging and curses against the Kensington empire. As I drafted a petty reply, the butler burst in, panting frantically. “Miss Piper, it’s terrible! The family is bankrupt!” Just ten minutes ago, I was a billionaire heiress. Now, we were completely broke. The news came so suddenly. I had been sitting there debating whether to order Australian lobster or king crab for dinner when the butler kicked my door open like a runaway dog. “Awoo!” He let out a wail that sounded even more like a distressed beagle than my own anxious cries. “Miss Piper! It is an absolute disaster! The Kensington family has gone completely under!” The menu slipped from my fingers and hit the floor. No lobster. No king crab. Everything was gone. “What did you just say?” I stared at him, unable to process the words. “We are officially bankrupt! Your mother’s IPO in New York crashed spectacularly. Your father’s mergers in London collapsed. The company stock plummeted to zero in fifteen minutes. We are three billion dollars in debt! Three billion, Miss Piper!” The butler dropped to his knees, tears and snot streaming down his face. I sank back into the sofa, my head spinning. “Then… how much money do I still have in my account?” Sobbing, the butler held up a single finger. “A hundred million?” “One… one hundred dollars. All of your credit cards and trust funds have been frozen!” One hundred dollars. Overnight, I had gone from a girl with a nine-figure net worth to a broke nobody with barely enough cash to buy a cheap dinner. They say it is easy to go from rags to riches, but nearly impossible to go from riches back to rags. Just six months ago, I was a simple girl living in a small suburb. I had been diagnosed with separation anxiety at an early age. If I didn’t see someone close to me for ten minutes, my throat would automatically switch into full beagle mode. When my adoptive parents found out I wasn’t their biological child, they celebrated as if they had won the lottery. My adoptive mother wept as she crammed clothes into my suitcase. “Piper, your real parents are the Kensingtons! Do you know how rich they are? They’re worth billions!” “Once you go back, they’ll treat you like a princess and put you on a pedestal!” My adoptive father was even more impatient. He practically shoved me into the sleek Rolls-Royce waiting at the end of our street. “Go, go, go! Don’t keep them waiting!” Before I could even give them a proper, emotional goodbye, the car door slammed shut. I let out an agonizing, heartbroken wail. The drive took over three hours, and I howled for the entire duration of the trip. By the time the car pulled into the massive Kensington estate, my voice was completely hoarse. The moment I stepped out of the vehicle, I threw myself toward the woman standing at the front of the receiving line. “Mom!” The woman awkwardly pushed me back, bowing deeply. “Miss Piper, I am Martha, your new head housekeeper.” I froze, my gaze shifting past her. A security guard behind her was holding up a large LED light board. Neon letters scrolled across the screen: Welcome home, Piper. Love, Mom. I am currently in New York taking the company public. Call me if it’s an emergency. The butler gently took my luggage and handed me three different phones, each showing an active video call. On the first screen, my biological mother was huddled with a group of executives preparing for the final Wall Street presentation. On the second screen, my father was in a sharp three-piece suit, rapidly signing cross-border acquisition papers. On the third screen, a young woman wearing a sleek gaming headset sat in a glowing neon chair, silently monitoring the stock market. The butler kept piling things into my hands. “This is an unlimited black card from your mother.” “This is a stock transfer agreement from your father, granting you three percent of the company’s shares.” “And this is from Miss Barbara.” He handed me a delicate pink envelope. My eyes lit up. Finally, a personal note from my sister! I tore the envelope open, expecting words of sisterly warmth, but there was only a single typed line: I have no love to give you, but you can have as much cash as you want. — Barbara. My lips trembled, and my chest tightened. I flipped the paper over, desperately searching for some hidden message of affection. Instead, there was only a printed QR code with a caption: Scan for a welcome gift of five million dollars. Surrounded by a mountain of wealth I could never hope to spend in a lifetime, I let out my very first howl in the Kensington mansion. The butler nearly jumped out of his skin. “Miss Piper! What is wrong?” “I just wanted a hug!” I wailed, tears pouring down my face. “Is a simple hug that hard? Awoo! Awoo!” The butler backed away three steps and frantically typed a message on his phone. Five minutes later, an armored security vehicle drove onto the estate. Several guards unloaded two massive, heavy vaults and set them directly in front of me. The butler’s voice echoed hollowly from behind the steel boxes. “Miss Piper, your mother said if you want a hug, you can wrap your arms around these. There is fifty million dollars in cash inside.” “Awoo! Awoo!” I hugged the freezing, heavy steel safe, sobbing until I hiccuped in the middle of the empty, echoing mansion. And now, my current reality had collided with those memories. “Where are my parents?” I asked quietly. “Your parents are on a flight back home. The moment they land, they will be taken in for questioning. Miss Barbara was detained earlier, but she was just released on bail. She is on her way back here now.” I blinked, murmuring to myself, “How did this happen?” Ever since I moved into this mansion, I had barely seen a living member of the family. The butler would print out my mother’s itinerary every morning: New York on Monday, Singapore on Tuesday, Dubai on Wednesday. Her schedule was tighter than a head of state’s. My father was perpetually locked in boardrooms, either signing contracts or flying to sign them. And Barbara, the acting CEO, was constantly surrounded by an entourage of executives, commanding a presence far greater than mine. Now, suddenly, everything was ruined? Standing in the center of my enormous bedroom, I felt my separation anxiety flaring up again. I let out a cry that drowned out the butler’s sniffling. “Awoo! I want my mom! I want my dad!” “I want Barbara!” But this time, no matter how hard I cried, nobody came to comfort me. The news of our bankruptcy spread like wildfire. The first wave of visitors were the bank representatives. Accompanied by local marshals, they politely but firmly served foreclosure notices on all of our properties, exempting only the primary mansion for the time being. I watched silently as they marched in and out, carrying away the expensive decor. When the house began to look empty, I let out another howl. The workers, clearly warned beforehand, simply put on noise-canceling earplugs and continued moving the boxes. The second wave of visitors were the suppliers. They were far less polite. They swept through the rooms like locusts, grabbing everything in sight, including the brand-new smartphone sitting on the coffee table. I didn’t dare speak up. I knew what it felt like to have no one standing behind me. I had been back with this family for six months. One hundred and eighty days. I had never sat down for a single meal with my biological parents. I had only seen Barbara a handful of times, catching brief glimpses of her through the bulletproof glass of her luxury car as it sped past me. That was the closest we had ever been. After the crowds cleared, I sat in the quiet house and cried. My adoptive parents had promised me that my real mother and father would shower me with love. So why did they never show up? For the past half-year, the only maternal affection I received came in the form of bank transaction alerts. Paternal love arrived as stock certificates. Barbara, attempting to fit the pattern, would periodically send QR codes worth five million dollars. I had called my adoptive parents for advice. They told me I needed to be more proactive. But every time I called my real mother, her secretary would answer in a cold, professional tone, saying she was in a meeting. My father’s calls went through occasionally, but he would hang up after a few hurried words. I didn’t even have Barbara’s number. My separation anxiety had worsened over the months. I went from howling three times a day until my throat was raw, to howling once a day, to eventually going days in complete silence. The butler would report my behavior to the secretary, who would tell the assistant, who would relay it over a radio. But no one ever answered. My cries were like stones dropped into a deep ocean, sinking without a single ripple. Just as a group of creditors started moving toward my bedroom, the butler stepped in front of them. He shielded me like a protective guardian. “This room contains Miss Piper’s personal belongings! We have notarized proof! You cannot touch anything in here!” The creditors looked at each other, grumbled, and turned back to the hallway. Eventually, even the main furniture was gone. The grand living room was entirely empty except for a small, cheap dog-shaped sofa I had purchased with my own allowance. The receipt had my name on it, so they couldn’t take it. I curled up on the small sofa, clutching the dusty LED sign the butler had used on my first day. I turned it on, watching the words roll across the dark screen: Welcome home, Piper. Love, Mom. As the news of the bankruptcy solidified, the household staff began to leave. Martha left first, packing up her entire quarters before the sun had even set. Then went the chefs, the cleaners, the drivers, and the staff whose only job was to bring me water. The butler stood quietly by my side, watching the last of them depart. Seeing me open my eyes, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a thick envelope. “Miss Piper, I must leave as well.” “This bankruptcy is complicated. You must take care of yourself.” “There is two thousand dollars in here. Use it for emergencies.” I shook my head, refusing to take it, but he forced it into my hands anyway. Then he stepped back and bowed deeply. “Miss Piper, I know you are dealing with an illness, but please try to howl less. It is not good for your throat.” With that, he walked out the heavy front doors. Looking out at the vast, silent estate, I let out a long, trembling cry. “Awoo! Awoo!” I don’t know how long I sat there crying before the front doors creaked open again. I stopped howling and looked up. It wasn’t my parents, and it wasn’t Barbara. It was Richard Bradley, the eldest son of the Bradley family. I had seen him once before when he came to beg my father for a business favor. Barbara had dismissed him with a few sharp words. I had passed him in the hallway that day, and he had stared at me with a sleazy, lingering grin. “So this is the real Kensington heiress? You’re definitely softer than that bitch Barbara.” “Hey, sweetheart, why don’t you come with me instead?” Before I could even react, Barbara had shoved him toward the door. “You think you’re good enough for my sister? Get the hell out of here!” She had turned to me, looking thoroughly annoyed. “That guy has already ruined the lives of three women. If you don’t want to be the fourth, stay far away from him.” I had nodded quickly, feeling a sudden warmth toward my sister. And now, here he was again, clearly up to no good. “Piper, I’m a reasonable guy,” Richard said, tossing a prenuptial agreement onto the floor in front of me. “If you marry me, I promise your family’s debts won’t touch you.” “But you have to sign this. And you’ll need to give me at least three sons.” I wanted to howl, but I forced myself to hold it in. I was a Kensington, and I refused to show weakness in front of someone like him. But before I could speak, a heavy ceramic vase flew through the air, shattering right against the side of his head. “Richard Bradley! You vulture! Get the hell out of my house!” My eyes widened. It was Barbara. She stood in the doorway, her hair messy and her clothes wrinkled. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, and her lips were dry. She looked nothing like the polished, elegant executive she used to be. Richard tried to step toward me, but Barbara grabbed a broom from the corner and started swinging, driving him back toward the door like a stray dog. Though, looking at ourselves, we were the ones who looked like stray dogs now. The thought made my eyes well up again. “Barbara! What took you so long?” “I was so scared!” Barbara rolled her eyes, pulled a pair of earplugs from her pocket, put them in, and sat down on the floor to tap furiously on a calculator. After a long silence, she let out a heavy sigh. “It’s not nearly enough.” She looked at me, still sniffling on the sofa, and said sharply, “Stop crying. None of this is your fault anyway.” “The company’s finances were targeted. Several major competitors conspired to short our stock, and they set up those offshore shell companies to trap our parents.” “Mom and Dad wanted to come home to see you this month, but they couldn’t. You have to understand, they aren’t just responsible for us. They have thousands of employees depending on them.” I understood that our parents were busy. “But what about you? Why did you always avoid me?” Barbara looked at me, her eyes slowly turning red. “Because I was jealous of you.” “You are the biological daughter, and I’m just the fake. Once you came back, I knew I would have to leave eventually. I worked myself to the bone just to prove to our parents that I was useful, that I could help the company, and that I could protect you. I didn’t want to risk losing them.” She let out a long breath. “But don’t worry. I won’t let you carry this weight alone.” Barbara began making calls, trying to secure loans. We only needed enough to pay our parents’ bail so they could be released to help stabilize the company. But call after call was met with cold rejections or outright insults. I watched as her shoulders sank lower and lower with every rejection. Finally, I stood up and pulled her toward the basement stairs. “Where are we going?” she asked, her voice tired. Without a word, I lifted a hidden trapdoor in the corner of the cellar floor and pointed downward. Deep inside the hidden space, a massive pile of solid gold bars gleamed softly in the dark. “Barbara,” I said quietly, “I have a lot of money now.” “Can you give me a lot of love instead?”

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1 Returning from my mother’s follow-up appointment, I found her belongings piled in the hallway. Dominic held a blueprint, directing housekeepers to repaint her room pastel pink for Becca’s livestreams. Spotting us, he barely glanced up. “Your mother seems fine. She should head home.” I stood frozen. A month ago, she’d undergone grueling open-heart surgery, and recent postoperative infections required absolute rest. Besides, I’d co-funded this townhouse, and we’d agreed to reserve a bedroom for our parents. Before I could speak, my mother picked up her cracked guardian angel charm from the floor. “We’ve overstayed, Fiona. I’ll buy a ticket home.” “Mom, remember what the doctor said?” She glanced at Dominic’s expressionless face. “I feel better, really…” “What time is your train? I’ll have the driver take you,” Dominic cut in smoothly, his voice ice-cold. My mother paled, swaying slightly. “I’ll check now.” Watching her luggage and Dominic’s indifferent profile, I made my decision. I was divorcing him. My mother had already pulled out her old smartphone, trying to open the ticketing app. But the phone was too old and kept freezing. Sweat began to bead on her forehead from anxiety, and she cast a helpless, apologetic look toward me. I helped her sit down on the living room sofa, keeping my voice gentle. “You rest first.” Then, I knelt on the floor and began gathering her things one by one. Our family portrait lay shattered on the floor. My father had passed away when I was very young, and that was the only photo we had of the three of us together. She carried it with her wherever she went. As I picked up the frame, a shard of glass sliced into my finger, and I let out a sharp gasp. Dominic turned around, his eyes falling on my bleeding finger. His brow furrowed slightly. “Why are you always so careless?” For a moment, my mind drifted to the past. “Fiona, how could you be so careless? Does it hurt? Let me see.” The same words, but the voice in my memory was clear, bright, and filled with genuine worry. When Dominic was twenty, even a tiny scratch on my skin would make him panic and blame himself for days. “It is just a photograph. Is it really worth hurting yourself over?” His voice dragged me back to the harsh reality. At twenty-eight, Dominic only saw my pain as a dramatic overreaction. “Go get the first-aid kit and bandage it up,” he said, already turning his attention back to the design blueprint. It was as if nothing in the world could be more important than that piece of paper. My mother brought over the first-aid kit, her eyes red as she gently wrapped my finger. The front door chimed as the passcode was entered. Becca stepped inside and immediately let out a dramatic sigh. “Oh my, why is it such a mess in here? Dominic, haven’t they cleared out this trash yet?” Dominic’s expression changed instantly. “Stay back! There is broken glass on the floor,” he warned, his voice rising in concern. He walked around the pile of my mother’s belongings with an expression of deep disgust, stepping directly to Becca’s side. He swept her up into his arms and carried her toward the guest bedroom. “Go see if there is anything else you want to change in your room.” “I want to put a few of my limited-edition anime figures on this shelf.” “Alright, I will have someone buy them for you.” “They have to be the rare ones, okay?” “You can have whatever you want.” “Dominic, why are you always so good to me?” “Because you deserve it.” Their conversation wasn’t loud, but every word drifted clearly into my ears. I thought I had grown numb to the pain, but the tightness in my chest betrayed me. My mother gently touched my face, fighting back her tears. “Fiona, don’t be sad. Don’t be sad, sweetheart. Mom is here…” I rested my head against her shoulder and bit my lip, letting my tears fall silently. “Fiona, clear these things out quickly. Becca needs to start her stream tonight,” Dominic said, walking back into the living room. When he saw my tear-streaked face, he froze, a flash of confusion crossing his eyes. Before he could say anything, Becca peeked out from behind him. “Oh, Fiona, why are you and your mom crying like this?” She blinked, suddenly covering her mouth in mock horror. “Don’t tell me your mother’s illness has taken a turn for the worse? Did the doctor say there is no hope left?” The lingering thread of my composure snapped. I stood up and screamed at her, “Don’t you dare curse my mother!” Becca shrank back into Dominic’s chest, sobbing softly. “I was only trying to show some concern…” Dominic wrapped an arm around her, his gaze turning icy as he glared at me. “What are you throwing a tantrum for now? Do you have to target Becca every chance you get?” I stared at the handsome man before me, but I could no longer remember what he looked like when he loved me. My mother gently pulled at my arm, shaking her head. “Dominic, please don’t blame Fiona. She is just worried about me. I am perfectly fine, really. I will pack up and leave right now.” I could barely stand. She was always like this, bowing her head and apologizing to Dominic, terrified that her presence would cause a rift between us. She was so afraid that after she passed away, I would have no one left to look after me. I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced my tears back. “Mom, we’re leaving.” I packed her things into a suitcase and booked a ride to the small suburban apartment I had bought before my marriage. It was far away from the hospital where she received her treatments, but it was quiet. “The bed is a bit small, but we can manage if we squeeze together,” I said as we unpacked. Hearing this, my mother tried to push me toward the door. “Don’t fight with Dominic. You need to go back. If you stay here, you won’t even know if something happens between him and that girl…” “Mom! I want to stay here and take care of you. Nothing else matters.” Whether anything happened between Dominic and Becca would not change based on my presence. But my mother didn’t understand. Her beliefs were still rooted in the traditional idea that a woman had to hold onto her husband’s heart at all costs. “I can’t be a burden to you, Fiona. Go back and talk to him. Don’t argue…” “I am going to divorce Dominic.” Her hands froze, and a storm of emotions crossed her face. During those long seconds of silence, I prepared myself for a lecture. But the expected scolding never came. “Is it really because you don’t want to live with him anymore, or is it because of me?” she asked softly. My tears spilled over. “Mom, I don’t want to be with him anymore. I am not happy. I am miserable.” I used the simplest words to make her understand my resolve. “If you leave him, will you be happy?” I couldn’t speak, but I nodded through my tears. “Okay,” she said, her voice trembling. “Mom supports you.” I stared at her for a moment before throwing myself into her arms and crying my heart out. After settling my mother in the apartment, I returned to our townhouse. Dominic and Becca were curled up on the sofa, watching a movie. “I told you he liked her! You see?” “Yes, yes, you are always the smartest.” “Of course I am. I saw it coming a mile away.” We used to do things like this too. We could debate a single line of dialogue or a minor character’s motive for hours. But after Becca returned from abroad, Dominic’s patience with me had evaporated. “I am busy every day, Fiona. I don’t have time to watch this kind of brainless trash with you.” Yet, he had plenty of time to accompany Becca to trendy dessert shops, watch late-night movies, and even walk away from multi-million-dollar business contracts just to take her on a vacation. When I confronted him about it, his response was always dismissive. “Becca just got back to the country, and her parents asked me to look after her. Fiona, you simply don’t understand the kind of lifelong bond our families share.” That single phrase, our families, exposed the deep social divide between us. Even after all these years, and even though everyone knew me as Mrs. Dominic, that gap had never truly closed. It had only been temporarily ignored. Becca’s return had simply stripped away the illusion. Their laughter cut short the moment they noticed me standing in the doorway. “Oh, Fiona, you are back!” Becca said, running over to wrap her arms around my elbow. “I am so hungry. Can you make that garlic crawfish boil I love tonight?” I took a step back, pulling my arm out of her grasp, and walked past her toward the bedroom. “Becca only asked for some seafood. Did that offend you too?” Dominic’s sarcastic voice followed me from the doorway. I opened my suitcase and replied without looking at him, “I am allergic to seafood.” He went quiet for a moment, a trace of embarrassment in his voice. “Right. I forgot.” I kept my back to him, a bitter smile gracing my lips. He didn’t forget. He just didn’t care anymore. When he used to care, he remembered my allergy better than I did. If there was ever seafood on a dinner table, he would make sure it was placed as far away from me as possible. When his friends teased him about being overly dramatic, saying a seafood allergy couldn’t spread through the air, he would simply shrug. “Anything that makes my Fiona uncomfortable shouldn’t even be in her line of sight.” I closed my eyes, forcing that memory of Dominic out of my head. That man was long gone. “Why are you packing a bag?” Dominic asked, stepping into the room. “I am moving to my apartment for a while to take care of my mother.” He let out a dry laugh. “That tiny place of yours is barely big enough for one person. Stop playing games. Your mother is fine now, she should just head back to her hometown.” I stopped folding my clothes and turned to look at him, my expression cold. “I never said my mother was fine.” My mother’s heart required a delicate valve repair. If Dominic had made a single phone call to the hospital his company invested in, she could have received a minimally invasive procedure, saving her from immense pain. But Dominic had refused. His excuse was that he had no authority to bypass protocol, and that he needed to avoid any appearance of conflict of interest. I had believed him. I was so afraid of damaging his professional reputation that I didn’t push. Instead, my mother had to undergo a traditional open-heart surgery, which involved cutting through her breastbone. The surgery had aged her by ten years. She was forced to take blood thinners for the rest of her life, undergo frequent blood tests, and face constant check-ups to monitor for recurrence. I had to resign from my job just to manage her recovery. A week after her surgery, she began running a high fever. The diagnosis was infective endocarditis, the most dangerous complication of heart surgery, with an incredibly high mortality rate. The doctor warned us that she needed absolute rest, and any stress or exhaustion could be fatal. Dominic knew all of this, but he had never truly cared. Yet, two weeks ago, when Becca’s distant relative was hospitalized, and her mother asked her to visit, Dominic had personally phoned the hospital director after Becca casually mentioned it. He had arranged the best specialists and a private VIP suite. When Becca had teased him about making such a fuss over a distant relative, he had simply smiled. “It was just a quick phone call, and it gives you status in front of your family. Why wouldn’t I do it?” That was when I finally understood. Love is measured by how much you are willing to prioritize someone. When placed on a scale, the unloved partner must always prepare to be cast aside. Dominic stared at me for a long time before letting out a soft sigh. “I know you are upset with me because of Becca taking the room, but your mother staying here permanently isn’t a long-term solution either. Becca wanted to start her social media career, and I was just trying to help her out…” I let out a cold laugh. “So, it is inappropriate for my recovering mother to stay here, but perfectly fine for Becca to move in?” He pressed his lips together, falling back on his usual defense. “Her parents asked me to take care of her. In our circle, we always look out for each other…” “Do her parents know their daughter has moved into a married man’s house? Or is this just how high society teaches manners these days?” I raised my voice, the anger finally breaking through. Dominic had never seen me like this, and he stood frozen in shock. “Fiona… how can you humiliate me and my parents like this?” Becca cried, covering her face as she ran out of the room. “Becca!” Dominic called out, immediately chasing after her. At the door, he stopped and looked back at me, his eyes filled with disappointment and anger. “Fiona, Becca is sensitive. If she hurts herself because of your cruel words, I will not let this go.” I laughed until tears came to my eyes. Dominic, you don’t need to let anything go. I have already let go of you. When I returned to the apartment, my mother was waiting for me with a home-cooked meal. The tiny space was warm, filled with a simple, peaceful comfort I hadn’t felt in years. Later that evening, Dominic called me. I answered, but there was only loud background noise on the other end. “Dominic, how are you looking after Becca? Her eyes are completely swollen.” “Don’t say that, it wasn’t Dominic’s fault.” “Then who was it? Did Fiona cause trouble again?” “I will handle it. I won’t let Becca suffer any more of this.” “If you ask me, you should just get a divorce. She was never from our world anyway. First she brings her sick mother into your home, and next thing you know, she will be putting her dead father’s ashes on your nightstand.” “That is enough. Fiona is my wife, and that is not going to change.” The call disconnected. I realized my heart had gone completely numb. Then my phone buzzed again, this time from an unfamiliar number. “Fiona, I have reviewed your mother’s medical records. I am back in the country now, and I can perform her follow-up surgery. But you will need to bring her to Fairview.” The voice on the phone was like a ray of light cutting through the darkness that had hung over me for weeks. It was Wesley, my college senior. I immediately booked the earliest flight to Fairview. Over the next few days, my mind was occupied entirely by my mother’s upcoming surgery. It was only when Dominic tried to call me again that I remembered we still had unfinished business. “How long are you going to keep acting like this?” his voice carried his usual irritation, but there was a faint trace of tenderness underneath, as if to remind me that he still cared. “Fiona, come back home. I have already forgiven you, and I miss your cooking,” Becca’s voice chimed in. “Becca isn’t holding a grudge anymore, Fiona. Stop dragging this out and make your way back,” Dominic added. “Yes, Fiona, come back and cook. Dominic has been taking me out to eat every night, and I am getting tired of it.” I looked out the window at the bright moon hanging in the night sky, a faint smile touching my lips. “Are you finished?” The two of them went quiet. “Dominic, my lawyer will be sending you the divorce papers. After this, we are finished.” A burst of laughter came from the receiver. “Oh, Fiona, did you learn that move online? Everyone in our circle tries that trick. It won’t work on someone as smart as Dominic.” Dominic’s voice turned angry. “Fiona, I thought you would use this time to reflect on your behavior. Is this the best you can come up with? Do you think divorce is a joke?” I had no desire to argue further, so I hung up. A moment later, a text from him arrived: If you want to throw a fit, go ahead. Becca and I are heading to the Hamptons for a few days, so I won’t be around to watch your drama anyway. A minute later, another message came through: I will bring you back some pink pearls from the coast. We can have them made into a necklace to make up for our anniversary gift. I blocked his number. The next day, my mother and I landed at the Fairview airport. From a distance, I could see Wesley waiting at the arrival gate. “Fiona! Over here!” He waved. “Wesley!” “Hello, Mrs. Harrison. I am Wesley, Fiona’s college senior. How are you feeling after the flight?” My mother smiled warmly. “Thank you, Wesley. I appreciate all your help. I am feeling quite well.” Wesley smiled back. “Please don’t be so formal. Just call me Wesley.” After we arrived at the apartment Wesley had arranged for us, my mother and I began unpacking our bags. From the living room, Wesley called out, “Fiona, your phone is ringing. It is an unsaved number.” “Could you answer it for me, Wesley?” I called back. “Sure.” Wesley pressed the answer button, his voice smooth and polite. “Hello, who is this?”

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