On the day of my prenatal checkup, the doctor and my husband forcibly took me into the abortion operating room. I was just about to ask if there had been a mistake. But my husband calmly spoke up: “There’s no mistake.” “I’ve taken in a female college student, and she’s pregnant too. I promised her that in this life, I would only have one child.” My voice couldn’t stop trembling: “What do you mean?” He smiled and said: “I just want you to adopt Nina’s child. I’m making you abort your own child because I’m afraid you’ll be biased in the future and treat my child with Nina badly.” He calmly handed me the surgery consent form: “Be good, sign it, and my wife you’ll always remain.” I gave him a deep look, then turned and staggered toward the operating room. “Ethan Turner, I hope you don’t regret the decision you made today.” He didn’t know that in this world, I was the only one—the only one who could bear him a child. Because he, suffering from azoospermia, was destined to be infertile.

I woke up three days later. The first words I heard were: “Mr. Turner, you really took a huge risk this time. Not only did you force the abortion of an eight-month fetus, but you also demanded her uterus be removed at the same time. Your wife almost bled out—we nearly lost her.” Ethan’s indifferent voice responded: “I promised Nina that I’d only ever have one child in this lifetime—hers and mine. The safest way to ensure that is to have Sophia’s uterus removed so she can’t conceive again.” His gaze swept over and met mine directly. Ethan showed no sign of panic. He reached over to tuck the blanket around me, saying with a touch of helplessness: “You heard? I had no choice. Nina said that only if the wife is disabled and unable to bear children can we legally adopt. Since you needed the abortion anyway, I figured I’d have your uterus removed at the same time. Save you from going through another surgery.” Seeing tears in my eyes, he gently wiped them away, saying with slight mockery: “I didn’t expect removing the uterus during pregnancy would cause hemorrhaging. Lucky for you, the elite gynecologist I hired for Nina was already at the hospital. You benefited from Nina’s good fortune and survived.” My whole body trembled as I mustered all my strength to slap his face. My heart felt like it was tearing apart: “Ethan, you’re not human.” But my hand only grazed his cheek weakly, leaving not even a red mark. A petite figure suddenly screamed and rushed over, slapping me hard across the face. I fell back onto the bed, the oxygen tube slipping off as I gasped for air. Looking up, I saw a young woman with tears in her eyes, standing in front of Ethan, shouting at me: “How dare you hit him! Do you know he’s been standing guard outside the ICU for three whole days because of you? If I hadn’t brought him nutrition meals every day, he would’ve collapsed.” “The man I care so deeply about—why should he be your tool for venting your emotions?” I didn’t miss the flash of emotion and tenderness in Ethan’s eyes. I had seen that look before. It was the same look he gave me when I got alcohol poisoning from drinking on his behalf and miscarried our first child. It was the same look when debt collectors threatened to chop off his hand, and I knelt crying and begging them, pawning my mother’s only keepsake to buy his freedom. I had done so much for him. But in the end, it couldn’t compare to a single tear from his new love. My heart felt like it was being stabbed with a dull knife, over and over. I propped myself up, looking at their affectionate display, and laughed bitterly: “Should I be grateful to him then? Grateful that for you, he aborted my full-term baby, secretly removed my uterus, nearly killed me, yet still deigned to stay by my bedside until I woke up?” Nina’s tears fell like broken pearls. She stared at me stubbornly: “It’s all my fault, okay?! I’m the one who hurt you! I’ll atone for it, okay?!” Like a madwoman, she shoved Ethan aside, grabbed the fruit knife from my bedside table, and thrust it toward her own belly: “I’ll cut out my baby and my uterus right now to make it up to you, okay?!” Ethan grabbed her tightly, gripping the knife handle as blood dripped down continuously. He looked up at me coldly, frozen in shock: “Sophia, are you satisfied now?” He carefully lifted the unconscious Nina in his arms and left without looking back, leaving only one sentence: “Seems I’ve been too good to you, making you think you can do whatever you want. Since that’s the case, you’d better learn what suffering really means.” I watched his retreating figure, laughing through my tears. The man who once promised to cherish me forever and never let me suffer had finally died in the passage of time. Ethan’s bodyguard coldly dragged me up and threw me out the door. “Starting today, everything Mr. Turner gave you will be taken back. If you want to keep staying in this hospital room…” I smiled bitterly and turned to leave. “No need. I don’t want anything from Ethan anymore.” My phone and wallet were all confiscated. Because they were all things Ethan had given me. Penniless, I stood on the street, desperately trying to flag down a car to take me home. But every time a kind person stopped, Ethan’s bodyguard would dutifully say: “If you’re not afraid of offending Mr. Turner of Empire Group, go ahead and let her in your car.” They would shake their heads helplessly at me and quickly drive away. The bodyguard looked at my barely-standing body and said coldly: “Mr. Turner asked me to tell you, this is what happens when you defy him and refuse to obey. If you’re willing to apologize to Miss White and agree to personally care for her during her pregnancy, he’ll have me take you home.” I turned a deaf ear, simply started walking step by step toward home.

Blood dripped down my thighs onto the asphalt road, drawing sideways glances from passersby. But I was completely numb, walking step by step until darkness fell and I finally reached my front door. The brightly lit room drove away the cold of the deep night. I raised my already frozen fingers and entered the passcode, but was met with an error beep. I gritted my teeth and entered the code again and again, the system repeatedly telling me it was wrong. Finally, the maid, annoyed beyond patience, strode over and opened the door, saying coldly: “Ma’am, stop trying. Until you apologize to sir, you can’t use anything sir bought.” “This house was bought by sir. If you don’t apologize, you can’t come in.” She looked me up and down and sneered: “If you ask me, just apologize already. What kind of status does Mr. Turner have? There are plenty of women out there waiting to take your place. Look at yourself—no family background, no looks. Over thirty and now you can’t even have children…” “He has another woman pregnant outside, and he still hasn’t divorced you. He’s already being good to you. What are you making a fuss about…” I interrupted her softly: “I won’t go in. I just need to get one thing.” The maid choked, then said sarcastically: “Everything you own was bought by Mr. Turner. What could possibly belong to you? You’re not planning to steal Mr. Turner’s jewelry and bags to sell, are you?” I said calmly: “I just want to get my medical test results. Is that not allowed?” The maid rolled her eyes, went upstairs, and threw down a manila envelope at me. I picked up the envelope and looked at the azoospermia report with Ethan’s name on it, smiling silently. This was the pre-marital medical examination report from when Ethan and I got married ten years ago. The moment I received the test results, my feelings were mixed. I didn’t know how to tell Ethan about this. Proud as he was, how could he accept being a defective man? How would his peers use this to suppress him? But fortunately, the doctor told me a secret—my physiology was special. I could activate Ethan’s inactive sperm and conceive. “Miss Cole, Mr. Turner is truly blessed to marry you. You’re the only person with such a special constitution I’ve ever encountered…” I had thought I would bury this secret in my heart forever and never let Ethan know. But I never imagined that one day, I would have to reveal this secret myself. I took out the little change in my pocket, made more than a dozen copies of this document, and handed them to a courier. Each copy had the address of a company hostile to Ethan and the private contact information of those CEOs. I said softly: “Please deliver these as quickly as possible. Just tell them this is a gift from Mrs. Turner. They’ll definitely give you a generous tip.” Ethan, this is my final gift to you before I leave. I hope you like it. Leaving the marital home Ethan and I shared, I returned to the small studio apartment where we lived when we started our business ten years ago. Back then we were dirt poor, living only in the most run-down rental in the urban village. The environment was terrible, but we were happy then. Too poor to afford anything but instant noodles, Ethan would lie and say he’d eaten well at business dinners, dumping both portions into my bowl. And late at night I’d see him standing at the sink, drinking glass after glass of tap water to fill his stomach. Our wedding ceremony was held in that shabby rental too. No banquet, just a plain silver ring that cost less than a thousand dollars. This place meant everything to me. So even after we moved to a luxury villa worth a hundred thousand per square meter, I secretly bought that rental property, fantasizing that when Ethan and I grew old, we’d move back there to live. I never imagined that one day, when my marriage to Ethan ended, I would return to where we first began.

I turned the doorknob and pushed open the door to see two intertwined figures on the sofa. And the matching couple’s pajamas I had treasured in the closet—the ones Ethan and I once wore—were now on Ethan and Nina. My mind went blank. I couldn’t control my questioning: “Ethan! How could you bring her here! You know this is our—” Before I could finish, Nina had already efficiently slapped herself across the face. With a swollen face, she stood in front of Ethan, glaring at me with tears: “Mrs. Turner, I just wanted to understand Ethan’s past life, so I begged him to bring me here.” “If you’re unhappy, I can kneel and apologize to you. Just please stop hurting him.” Ethan was heartbroken. He cupped her face, blowing on it repeatedly. He looked coldly at the bodyguard. The bodyguard behind me immediately grabbed my arms. His hand like a fan slapped my face hard. Over and over, my ears rang. I don’t know how long it lasted before they finally stopped and released me. I fell to the floor. Ethan looked at me with an expressionless face: “Sophia, why do you insist on making yourself miserable? If you’re not feeling well, just go home and rest. Why did you have to follow us here to cause trouble?” I smiled bitterly: “Go home? Do I still have a home? Is it even my home anymore?” I looked at him with red eyes, tears mixing with nosebleed dripping on the floor: “Ethan, why did you bring her here…” “You can fool around with her anywhere you want! Why did you have to defile this place!” “The thirty-year-old Ethan is already rotten to the core. Why do you have to destroy the only memory the twenty-year-old Ethan left me?” Ethan’s eyes flickered for a moment, but then turned to anger: “I’m rotten to the core? How am I rotten? Sophia, don’t forget—if it weren’t for me, you’d be stuck in this cramped rental for life!” “Don’t forget, the money you used to buy this place came from my account! This place belongs to me too! I can do whatever I want with it!” He laughed bitterly in anger: “You say I’m defiling this place by coming here?! Forget defiling it—even if I blow up this dump, it’s none of your business.” He had his men drag me out and placed several pounds of explosives outside the shabby building. With one command, the house that held our only happy memories together was reduced to rubble. In the flames filling the sky, my tears wouldn’t stop falling. Ethan stared at the tears on my face. His anger dissipated somewhat, his tone cold: “Sophia, what do I have to say to make you understand?” “I gave you the status of Mrs. Turner. I let you live in the best villa. I let you carry bags worth hundreds of thousands. Even the clothes you’re wearing now are haute couture that ordinary people could never afford in their lifetime. Haven’t I been good enough to you?!” “You’re already thirty years old. You’re not young anymore. Do you really expect me to still love an aging you?” “I give you the dignity of being my wife, I give you a comfortable life. All you need to do is turn a blind eye and accept Nina and the child. Is that so hard?” I met his gaze and said word by word: “I’m not willing.” “Ethan, you’ve erased everything we had with your own hands.” “Let’s divorce.” Anger and irritation flashed in Ethan’s eyes. He looked at me and said flatly: “Divorce? Impossible. Even if I don’t love you anymore, you’re still my most important person. I won’t divorce you.” He looked at me, saying each word clearly: “Sophia, I’ve never wronged you. If anyone’s been wronged, it’s Nina—I couldn’t give her a proper status, making her stay with me without name or title in her best years.” “I was going to give you some dignity, but I didn’t expect you to be so unreasonable, making things this ugly.” He turned around, knelt on one knee, pulled out a huge pigeon-egg diamond ring from his pocket, and said affectionately to Nina: “Nina, I regret meeting you so late.” “I can’t give you a proper status in this lifetime, but I want to give you the grandest wedding and let everyone know you’re the one I love most.” Nina covered her mouth, her eyes reddening, but she still turned her head away, looking dejected: “I can’t accept! I love you, so I’m willing to put aside my self-respect and degrade myself to be your mistress, but I don’t want everyone to know I’m your mistress!” “Unless…” She turned to look at me: “Unless Mrs. Turner witnesses our wedding and admits in front of everyone that the unloved one is the real mistress, that she’s the third wheel!”

I looked expressionlessly at the malice in the young woman’s eyes. Seeing my silence, Ethan said coldly: “Sophia, don’t forget—your parents’ ashes are buried in the cemetery I bought.” “You wouldn’t want them to end up like this house… would you?” My heart felt like a huge chunk had been carved out with a knife. Even breathing tasted like blood. I slowly nodded. “Fine. I’ll go.” Nina broke into a smile and threw herself into Ethan’s arms. He took Nina to order wedding dresses and book the venue. Before leaving, he paused. Rarely, he explained to me peacefully: “Sophia, it’s just a wedding. It won’t shake your position as Mrs. Turner.” I said calmly: “Okay.” He looked at me deeply, finally showing a smile: “You don’t need to take care of Nina during this time. Rest well in the hospital. After the baby is born, we’ll take the child on a family trip. Consider it my compensation to you.” I still calmly said okay. Only then did Ethan leave satisfied. On the wedding day, Ethan was afraid I’d cause trouble, so he had bodyguards take me to the dressing room early to watch over me. Nina acted coquettishly, saying her wedding dress was too heavy and she couldn’t put on her shoes. “Mrs. Turner, help me out.” Ethan frowned slightly, instinctively looking at me. I lowered my eyes, knelt down, lifted the wedding dress, and helped her put on her shoes. Ethan looked at me with a complicated expression, pursing his lips as if wanting to say something, but Nina pushed him. “Honey, I’m thirsty. Go get me some orange juice.” Hearing this, Ethan smiled and ruffled her hair, then turned and walked out. As soon as he left, Nina kicked me in the chest. She looked at me mockingly and said: “Sophia, you don’t think I’m some gold digger clinging to a rich man, do you?” “You probably don’t know—Ethan and I have been in love for nearly ten years too.” Seeing the shock in my eyes, she smiled viciously: “Ethan said I was too young and shouldn’t suffer with him, so he only dated me while marrying you.” “He was afraid of wronging me. The first money he earned, he told you was taken by debt collectors, but actually he bought me designer bags. Every time I felt wronged, he’d have those people come to your house and stage debt collection scenes, taking the money to buy me bags.” “One million eight hundred thousand in total. Oh, and there was a worthless bracelet that I threw away.” My whole body trembled uncontrollably. One million eight hundred thousand—that was the money I earned over those years to pay off Ethan’s debts. At my most exhausted, I even collapsed on the assembly line and nearly got pulled into the machinery. When Ethan found out, he held me trembling, saying it was his fault. How ridiculous that I comforted him then, smiling and saying I didn’t blame him… It was all fake! He’d been lying to me all along! Nina kept chattering: “Later when you got pregnant, I was so angry I wouldn’t let him touch me. So he staged a scene with business partners, getting you so drunk you miscarried. You don’t even know—when you were unconscious in the operating room, he was calling me, begging me not to be angry at him.” These words hit me like a bludgeon. Everything went dark before my eyes. Nina’s face suddenly turned vicious, full of resentment as she looked at me: “But he loves me so much, yet still won’t divorce you and marry me!” “You’re just relying on Ethan’s soft heart and sentimentality, relying on the fact that you suffered through his startup days with him to suppress me.” She suddenly laughed: “Tell me—if Ethan knew you hurt the child in my belly, would he still care about that bit of history between you two?” All my hair stood on end. I immediately turned to run out. Behind me, Nina grabbed a champagne bottle and smashed it hard against her own belly, screaming. “Ethan! Save me!” The dressing room door was kicked open by Ethan. He grabbed my wrist and threw me to the floor. His eyes were bloodshot as he looked at Nina collapsed on the ground, blood spreading from under her dress. “It wasn’t me…” My explanation was choked off by Ethan’s hand around my throat. His eyes blood-red, he roared at me: “Sophia! You won’t even spare a child! You disgust me!!” “You caused Nina to lose her child. Don’t blame me for going after your dead parents.” Through my terrified, agonized tears, he directly ordered: “Dig up Sophia’s parents’ graves. Grind their bones to dust and flush them down the sewers.” “No!” I screamed: “Ethan! You maniac! The dressing room has surveillance cameras! Go check them! It wasn’t me!!” Sophia trembled as she stood up, turned and ran toward the window: “Without the child, what’s the point of living? I might as well die!” “Mrs. Turner, frame me however you want!” Ethan’s face changed drastically. He shoved me aside and rushed over to grab Sophia. He looked at me with a cold expression, saying each word clearly: “Sophia, you’ve exhausted the last bit of affection I had for you. For hurting my love and my child, I won’t let you off.” He said coldly: “Send her to prison. Tell the people inside to take good care of her.” “I don’t want her to have a single good day in there.” … Ethan ran red lights all the way to the hospital. He carried Nina and rushed directly into the emergency room: “Save my love and my child! If you can save my child, I’ll donate ten million to your hospital!” The on-duty doctor was startled and stared at Ethan in shock: “Mr. Turner?” He frowned, looking at Ethan, then at Nina lying pale and fragile on the bed. He asked in confusion: “Your child? Mr. Turner, you have azoospermia and are infertile. How could you have a child?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “386468”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

On our wedding anniversary, I put on sexy lingerie and nervously sent my sexually indifferent husband a selfie. Our chat history was nothing but 1s and 2s. Me: “Working late tonight?” Him: “1” — meaning yes. Me: “Coming home tonight?” Him: “2” — meaning no. This time, instead of a number, he sent a 60-second voice message. I played it. A woman’s moans came through: “Wait until I finish having sex with Professor Moore, then I’ll send him back.” “You take care of his daily needs. I’ll take care of his physical needs. Nice and clear division of labor.” My hands trembling, I closed the app, got dressed, and drove to the lab. Through the crack in the door, I saw Ethan holding a woman, moving wildly. Heavy breathing, stifled moans — he had never treated me like that. But I was his wife. I stood outside the door for a very, very long time. Finally, I raised my hand and knocked. When Ethan emerged, his expression was calm. Not a trace of embarrassment at being caught in the act. His dark eyes settled on my face. After a moment’s pause, he spoke deliberately: “Let’s talk about this at home.” His slender hand reached toward me. I didn’t move. For the past twenty years, whether it was dates, confessions, proposals, or even the pathetically rare sex we had — I’d initiated all of it. “Fiona?” For once, he used my nickname, but his head was still tilted to the side, his gaze directed behind him. Looking at that woman whose face he was carefully blocking with his body, shielding her from view. My nose stung. I forced a dry laugh: “Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Only then did he turn his head. The look in his eyes now held guilt and pleading. “Fiona, can we just go home first? Please?” Without waiting for a response, he grabbed my collar and roughly pulled me aside. Then he turned back and gently instructed the woman: “You should go. Quickly!” The clicking of high heels drew closer and closer. Ethan’s gaze followed her retreating figure, growing more distant. He watched her so intently that he didn’t even notice the cut on my cheek from where I’d been scraped against a nail on the wall. Ethan hadn’t always been this cold to me. During those college years when his condition improved, he’d acted like a normal person, caring about my joys and sorrows. After we married, he’d cancel urgent meetings and experiments on nights when I had my period, using his burning palms to warm my stomach. He’d clumsily write me love letters by hand before my birthday, trying to make up for the regrets of our youth. But those warm, sweet memories couldn’t compete with the pain on my face right now. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I forced them back. Taking a deep breath, I shook off his hand: “Stop looking. She’s gone.” His body stiffened. He hesitated, not daring to turn around. This time I didn’t wait for him. I headed to the car first. We arrived home close to 11 PM. The moment I changed out of my shoes, hands lifted me from behind and placed me on the sofa. I turned to see Ethan retrieving the first aid kit, kneeling before me. The concern in his eyes didn’t seem fake. “I’m sorry…” I didn’t respond, letting him carefully treat my wound while his neck was still covered in hickeys. Just like years ago when we exchanged wedding rings, when he’d publicly vowed to love me forever. The same posture. The same eyes. But everything had changed. Blood-stained cotton balls fell into the trash. As Ethan closed the first aid kit, I held out my hand to him: “Your phone.” He didn’t move, but the concern in his eyes faded, replaced by barely suppressed impatience. “Don’t make trouble for her. I’ll end things with her.”

I bit down hard and laughed. This man’s earlier concern, his kneeling — it was all for this moment. So I wouldn’t make trouble for the woman who held his heart. How could I possibly listen? Brushing past him, I grabbed his phone from the table. The lock screen showed that woman’s shy, smiling face. The password was still my birthday. But the pinned chat on his SnapChat had been changed to this woman named Chloe. Their chat thread was incredibly active. He replied to her every message instantly. But my chat with him was a wasteland. The last message was from half a month ago. “Coming home for dinner?” He hadn’t replied. The next day after work, he’d sent a dismissive: “Too busy, forgot.” I knew he had a national-level project underway, so I’d been understanding, not making a fuss, racking my brains to make him nutritious, healthy meals. But I never imagined that all the care I gave him, he’d spent on someone else. Even his “busy” was just being busy screwing someone in the lab. [Your wife hasn’t seen you in half a month. Are you coming home tonight?] [Bored with her. Not going.] The hand gripping the phone trembled slightly. Twenty years. The best years of a woman’s youth. I’d spent it all on this man, and all I got in return was “bored with her.” Those words blurred through my tears into an indistinct mess. I bit my lip, forcing my eyes open wide, reading word by word. Reading how this rigid man who’d lecture about physics even during sex had dressed up in costumes to play elaborate roleplay games for this woman. Reading how at the science award ceremony I’d begged him multiple times to take me to — events he’d always refused — he’d brought her instead, letting her accept congratulations in my place, under my name. Reading how when Chloe asked him “Do you like your wife or me?” he’d replied without hesitation: “She’s old now, loose down there too. Can’t compare to you.” Turning the entire first half of my life — spent devotedly helping him ascend to greatness — into one massive joke. My eyes burned. I returned the phone to Ethan. The more I read, the more I felt like a complete fool. “Fiona, I’m a man. I have needs and desires. Things with her got out of hand, we couldn’t help ourselves.” “I hope you can understand and not make a scene. Let’s just end this here, okay?” His voice remained gentle. Even his lies sounded so convincing. But I stubbornly wanted answers. I pointed at the pinned profile picture, my voice hoarse: “Of all people to cheat with, why her? Why the woman who killed your parents?” I raised my voice, grabbing his collar, my words tearing through the air: “Have you forgotten how your parents could have lived, but she ran them over again and again, grinding them into pulp?” Ethan turned his face away. After a long pause, he finally spoke: “She was young then. It wasn’t intentional.” “And my parents shouldn’t have been out that late at night. They brought it on themselves…” I carefully savored those two sentences. And couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. Laughing at my own blindness. When Ethan’s parents died and his relatives refused to take him in, Chloe — afraid he’d press charges — had systematically driven him insane. She’d made him crawl on the ground and drink urine, bark like a dog, spreading videos of it everywhere. His miserable state was burned into my memory for twenty years. Even after he recovered, I’d kept track of Chloe’s whereabouts. But I never anticipated this. Not only had Ethan forgiven his parents’ murderer first, he’d climbed into bed with her. During every night he’d lied about working late, he’d tried every position with her. He said they couldn’t help themselves, overcome by passion. So what were my meddling twenty years worth? Thunder rumbled as his phone rang simultaneously. Ethan didn’t even glance at me before answering. “Ethan, my thesis data got rejected. If I miss tonight’s deadline, my entire project is ruined…” Chloe’s voice was sweet and cloying. The man’s throat bobbed as he immediately rushed to the entrance to change shoes, not forgetting to coo at her: “Don’t worry, baby. I’m coming right now.” He responded as if it were the most natural thing in the world, as if I didn’t exist. I whirled around and blocked his path: “You’re not going!” Ethan frowned, irritation rising in his eyes. “Fiona! This is about Chloe’s future. She’s not useless like you. Get out of my way!” The word “useless” nailed me in place. I forgot how to react. Ethan’s patience completely evaporated. He grabbed my collar and shoved me aside. My wound struck the corner of a cabinet. I hissed in pain. Instinctively, I called out: “Ethan, it hurts…” The only response was the earth-shattering slam of the door.

Liquid dripped down my face. I didn’t bother with it. Like a walking corpse, I pulled out tonight’s lunch box of food I’d lovingly prepared. Opened the lid, grabbed my fork, and mechanically stuffed the still-warm food into my mouth, chewing as if punishing myself. But thinking about how this lunch box had also been at the lab tonight made my mouth, my stomach, churn with revulsion — like I’d swallowed countless needles. I rushed to the bathroom and retched into the toilet. As tears streamed from my eyes, the doorbell rang. It was Ethan’s supervisor. “Fiona, Ethan’s at City General Hospital. Get here quick!” Instinctively, I asked: “What happened? Is he okay?” Before he could answer, a strange woman’s sobbing voice came through the phone: “If it weren’t for helping me get that corporate data, you wouldn’t have been forced to drink so much you got gastric bleeding!” “I’ll go heat up some milk for you right now…” Ethan’s weak voice protested: “Don’t… just stay with me. Let her do that kind of grunt work.” “Is that… appropriate?” “Why wouldn’t it be? Taking care of people is her only talent. Remember this — your hands are meant for writing papers, conducting experiments, winning awards. They shouldn’t be wasted in a kitchen…” My throat felt like it had been scraped raw, like a fire burning it over and over. I stared at my gaunt, withered reflection in the mirror. Suddenly I understood. In this genius physicist’s eyes, I — his wife — was only fit for menial labor. Only fit to serve. Elevate his mistress to the clouds. Reduce his wife to a maid. What a perfect arrangement. “Fiona, Ethan’s bleeding quite a bit. When are you coming?” I wiped away my tears and spoke slowly into the still-connected call: “Boss, I won’t be coming to the hospital. But feel free to invite me to the public denouncement when his affair with Miss Chloe gets exposed!” I hung up. My heart felt no better. I drifted ghost-like to the bedroom, gazing at the bright moon hanging high. Suddenly, I laughed softly. Ethan had probably long forgotten that back then, I’d been the top student at our university besides him. He’d already been specially recruited by the National Physics Research Institute. For my sake, he’d secretly torn up that offer letter, insisting on going to another city with me for college. I’d gotten angry at him for the first time: “Are you crazy? How can you waste your talent like this?” He’d stubbornly shaken his head, his eyes redder than blood. “Wherever you go, I go. Without you, I don’t want anything!” He’d even taken that offer letter covered in tape and knelt at my parents’ door, kowtowing repeatedly. “Uncle, Aunt, please believe me. Fiona is my entire life.” “I’d rather die than let her down.” When Ethan was serious, stars would appear in his eyes. And I’d naturally believed him completely. When he said forever, I thought he meant forever. Later, I gave up my studies, became a homemaker, lost myself in his ever-ascending career, becoming increasingly marked by domestic mundanity. I earned no praise, only insults calling me “useless.” Life really is full of reversals. Just like tonight — I’d gone to the lab to tell him he was going to be a father. What should have been a surprise turned into a nightmare.

The next day, when I returned home from the lawyer’s office, my parents suddenly called. Their tone was unusually stern. “Fiona! Tell us the truth. Did you do something to betray Ethan?” I was stunned. I didn’t know how to explain that Ethan had cheated and I wanted a divorce. After a few seconds of stunned silence, I chose to deflect. “Mom, Dad, nothing like that happened…” My mother’s heavy breathing came through the phone. “Our house got splashed with red paint by some woman named Chloe. She says you’re shameless, that you seduce her husband every night!” “What’s going on? The neighbors are all pointing fingers at us, saying you couldn’t control yourself, that while Ethan was working late, you were out there sleeping around…” My hot-tempered father snatched the phone away, shouting at the top of his lungs: “Are you really that cheap? That desperate? Because of you, people are talking behind our backs. Your mother’s fainted several times… If you don’t fix this, we’re cutting you off!” Bang! The call disconnected. Almost simultaneously, a soft laugh came from the bedroom. The door opened. Chloe stood inside. She looked younger than her profile picture, with luminously pale skin and bright eyes. In her hands were the shredded pieces of my pregnancy test results. “Like the gift I sent your parents?” She smiled sweetly. But it made my blood run cold. I pulled out my phone to call the police while demanding: “How did you get in here?” She slapped the phone out of my hand. Shaking her head with a mocking laugh: “Stupid! Your husband gave me the key, obviously.” I stood frozen, my entire body shaking with rage. She looked at me, tilting her head with a smile. “Can’t handle this already?” “What if I told you I don’t just have your house key — I also have his project authorship rights and his research institute paycard? What would you do then?” I took a breath, forcing down the fury rising in my chest. “You saw it yourself. I’m carrying his child. I’m his legitimate wife. He won’t destroy his academic career and future for you!” She froze for a second. Then burst out laughing. “Really?” She suddenly stood up, slowly walking toward me, her eyes dropping to my still-flat stomach. Lips curling, her voice drawling slowly: “You think having a baby will tie him down? Just like you thought spending twenty years with him would guarantee you his whole life?” “Stupid! So stupid!” She threw her head back, laughing wildly. Her voice was shrill and piercing. Then I watched as her hands slowly moved to her own stomach. Her clothes were thin. Thin enough that I could clearly see her swollen belly. Chloe glanced at my stunned expression, her face unable to hide her gloating. “Fourteen weeks along. Ethan said once he finishes this current project, he’ll tell you he wants a divorce. He’s even reported it to his superiors.” “If I were you, I’d spread my legs and find another man…” Fourteen weeks… Fourteen weeks ago, she’d already had a key to my home. She’d probably been in my marital bed, on the sofa, even in the shower — in every corner of our shared home. He’d mounted this woman, taking her again and again. The clinking sounds of lab equipment bottles came crashing back into my ears. Boom! My carefully maintained composure shattered under the weight of my rage. I grabbed the ashtray from the table and hurled it at her. Ahhh! She couldn’t dodge in time. It hit her squarely, blood streaming from her forehead. The suffocating pressure I’d been holding back, mixed with fury over my parents being terrorized, formed a tidal wave. I didn’t stop. Instead, I lunged at her like a madwoman. Straddling her body, I grabbed her hair and slammed her head against the table. Bang! Her piercing screams were music to my ears in that deadly silent space. The blood spurred me into deeper frenzy. I tore at her scalp while cursing at the top of my lungs: “Bitch! Whore! Husband-stealing slut! Why don’t you just die! I’ll kill you!” I’d lost all reason. Completely consumed by rage. Chloe’s face was covered in blood. Her forehead crimson, her nose crimson, her mouth crimson. She screamed until her voice went hoarse. But I showed no mercy, clawing at her face, biting her ear, kicking her stomach with my feet. She shrieked as blood seeped from between her legs in a spreading stain. I stared at the bright red beneath her, pausing for a few seconds. Just those few seconds — and my lower abdomen took a brutal kick. Pain exploded across my belly. My entire body flew backward. Splurch! Flesh pierced through. The tip of an umbrella protruding from the entryway plunged deep into my body. No! I heard Ethan’s terrified scream.

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I found an old phone in my husband Ethan Lloyd’s coat pocket. The password was his first love’s birthday. Inside were records of every time they had sex — in his office, in the bathroom of the café downstairs, even in our marital bedroom. “Lily, is it fun invading other people’s privacy?” I turned around. Ethan was standing in the doorway. I was exhausted. This time, I didn’t bother fighting with him. I just said calmly, “Let’s get a divorce.” Ethan smashed the phone on the floor right in front of me, his expression utterly indifferent. “That’s all in the past.” He asked, “Still want the divorce?” I nodded seriously. “Yes.” “Enough. Stop making a scene.” Ethan frowned, clearly impatient. “Be good. Once the project wraps up at the end of the year, I’ll make time to take you skiing in Hokkaido, okay?” When I didn’t respond for a long while, Ethan’s lips curved into his usual careless smile as he tapped my forehead with his fingertip. “I’m not lying this time. I mean it.” I almost wanted to laugh. “Not lying this time.” So he knew he’d lied to me countless times before. He’d promised that Hokkaido ski trip years ago, postponing it year after year. For our usual movie dates, I was always the one waiting alone at the theater entrance until showtime. When he said he’d pick me up, I’d stand there soaked by the rain, never seeing his car. Ethan always broke his promises to me. So now, saying this like it was some kind of favor, some reward. “No need,” I said, taking a deep breath before repeating firmly, “Ethan, I want a divorce.” This time, the man’s expression turned cold, his patience completely exhausted. “Lily, you’re being completely unreasonable.” “Go to Hokkaido or don’t—I’ve already given you the chance.” “Don’t come crying to me later about how I didn’t keep my word.” With that, he grabbed his coat from the sofa and turned to leave. He didn’t even touch the dinner I’d carefully prepared to his taste. I remained silent too. For the first time, I didn’t try to make him stay, not even for one more minute. Ethan paused at the door, glancing back at me. I had already sat down and begun eating quietly by myself. He slammed the door. Like he was venting some fury. My heart had long since stopped hurting—only a barren wasteland remained. I used to think that someone as superior as Ethan would never stoop to mundane domesticity. But it turned out he would cook for the girl he loved. Just to earn one compliment from her. The cuts on his hands, the burns from hot water—they all became badges of love. He’d even said such childish things: “Cooking for someone you like really does feel so happy.” “I want to cook for Claire for the rest of my life, fatten her up so no one else will try to steal her from me.” Reading those records made me realize for the first time how much of a joke I was. The next day, I met my lawyer best friend at a café and asked her to draft a divorce agreement. “What happened with you two? Why is it this serious this time?” My friend looked shocked. She knew better than anyone how much I loved Ethan. In past arguments, we’d have a cold war at most. “I’m really tired,” I said, looking out at the traffic. “You know what? She came back.” Just that one pronoun, and my friend understood. Claire Bennett. Ethan’s unforgettable first love. That name was like a tiny needle lodged in my heart. Never drawing blood, but causing pain from time to time. I’d never even seen her in person, yet her existence had affected me for five whole years. Ethan said personal space was important, but he and Claire had shared a music account. Ethan didn’t like his life being public, but his old social media was filled with traces of that girl. The art exhibitions he took me to featured Claire’s favorite painters. He complained that shopping with me wasted time, yet he’d once browsed every antique market in the city with her. Two years of dating, three years of marriage—Ethan had never truly removed her from his heart. And I was more like companionship during his single period. A habit. A second choice. “Alright, leave the divorce agreement to me—I won’t let you get the short end of the stick!” My friend said worriedly, “But Lily, have you really made up your mind?” “I told you from the start—this man isn’t right for you. He hasn’t cleared his heart, and being with him means you’re just hurting yourself.” “But you had to go and fall for him anyway, wouldn’t listen no matter what I said.” I lowered my eyes, stirring the coffee in my cup. “Some lessons have to be learned the hard way.”

The sky was heavy and gray. Rain started pouring without warning. My friend’s husband came to pick her up. “Didn’t I tell you not to come?” “How could I let you get caught in the rain? Lily, come with us—I’ll drop you off first.” I smiled and shook my head. “You two go ahead. I’ll sit here a bit longer.” I used to envy their genuine care and consideration for each other. Why were Ethan and I also married, yet there was always an invisible wall between us? Why? The answer was simple. He just didn’t love me enough. Yet I’d deceived myself for so long, thinking he simply didn’t know how to love. When the rain lightened, I got up to leave. I happened to see a familiar Audi pull over by the curb. The woman in the passenger seat wore a cream-colored dress, with slightly curled hair and a gentle demeanor. Ethan got out from the other side, walking this way. It seemed he was passing by and wanted to grab coffee. Seeing me, he remained expressionless, only raising an eyebrow slightly. He probably expected me to greet him first, but I just looked down at the rideshare app on my phone. Maybe I was distracted—I accidentally missed a step and twisted my ankle. Ethan glanced over again, frowning but saying nothing. He went into the café and ignored me. I endured the pain in my ankle and continued waiting for my ride. Soon, Ethan came out carrying two takeaway coffees. “Let’s go.” “Isn’t this what you wanted—for me to give you a ride?” His tone carried cold impatience. “…I didn’t.” Ethan didn’t bother arguing and simply pulled me into the car. Then he handed me one of the coffees. I didn’t take it, so he just set it aside. The entire ride was silent. The atmosphere in the car was stifling. Claire suddenly pressed her hand to her forehead. “Ethan, I think my blood sugar’s dropping. Do you have any candy?” Ethan naturally reached into the glove compartment and handed her a chocolate. “I’ve reminded you so many times, but you never learn.” Claire took it with a soft laugh. “I get too busy and forget. Good thing you’re here.” They naturally started chatting about old times—mutual acquaintances, shared experiences. Their words carried an effortless understanding. And I sat in the back seat like an out-of-place audience member. The scenery outside flew backward. We passed Fairview Park, where the giant Ferris wheel slowly turned. My first date with Ethan had been here. Legend said couples who kissed at the top would be happy forever. I’d stolen a kiss from him then. He’d stared at me for a long while. I thought it was one of our few shared sweet memories. Later I learned that Ethan’s biggest regret was never bringing Claire here to ride that Ferris wheel. Fragments of the past flashed through my drowsy mind. Mostly my one-sided expectations and his dismissiveness. I closed my eyes and fell asleep. When I opened them again, the car had stopped outside our building. Claire had gotten out at some point. Ethan unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to look at my swollen ankle, his brow furrowed. “Lily,” his voice was low, “does it have to be like this?” I looked up, confused. “If you wanted me to pick you up, you could’ve just said so. Did you really have to use such a stupid method to get my attention?” His tone was steady but carried barely detectable irritation. I didn’t know what he was irritated about. Perhaps he was annoyed that I’d interrupted his alone time with his first love. “Ethan, you’re overthinking it.” “I didn’t ask you to drive me.” He probably thought I was being stubborn and scoffed. “Oh? So what’s your plan—crawl home like this?” “I can call a cab.” I looked at him. “Ethan, I don’t need you to survive.” “I used to cling to you because I loved you. That doesn’t mean I’m helpless without you.” “Leave? Lily, try leaving and see if I’ll come begging for you back.” The man’s eyes darkened again. I had no desire to waste more words on him. Anyway, once the divorce papers reached his hands, he’d know this time I wasn’t making a scene—I was serious.

I pushed the car door open, trying to get out myself. But he got out first and scooped me up in his arms. His movements weren’t gentle, but he didn’t let me fall either. Inside, he found the medicine kit and awkwardly sprayed medication on my ankle, his expression still cold. “Don’t do this again.” I silently watched him complete this task. Ethan was always like this—giving me a slap, then a piece of candy. Hot and cold, making me second-guess myself countless times. Did he have even a shred of genuine feeling for me? Agonizing over whether someone loves you is truly stupid, yet I’d been stupid for five years. It was time to wake up. Too tired to keep guessing his thoughts, I casually said thanks. Ethan stood in front of the sofa, motionless. “Anything else?” Ethan pressed his lips together. “Don’t you have anything you want to ask me?” I shook my head calmly. Actually, I’d already checked Claire’s social media. Yesterday she’d posted on Twitter—a photo of a plane landing. The caption read “Waiting for you.” I’d scrolled through all the comments but didn’t see any trace of Ethan liking or commenting. But I knew he would go. And indeed, that’s what happened. “I’m really tired. I want to sleep.” I stood up. “I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight.” Ethan grabbed my wrist. “Lily!” Unusually, he took the initiative to explain. “Claire and I aren’t what you think.” “I picked her up this time because she just got back and isn’t familiar with the area. I was just helping out.” I made a sound of acknowledgment. “As you should.” Ethan studied my face, as if trying to find some trace of insincerity. “Lily, she and I ended a long time ago. We’re just ordinary friends now.” I nodded disinterestedly. “Got it.” Ethan pulled me into his arms, for once taking the initiative to kiss me. His burning body heat transmitted through our clothes—a warmth I’d once craved most. He knew I liked physical intimacy and thought one kiss could placate me. But I turned my head away. Ethan was clearly stunned. He completely hadn’t expected me to refuse. His expression darkened. “Lily, my patience has limits too. You’d better not push it too far.” That night we slept in separate rooms. Ethan left me the master bedroom and took the guest room himself. When I woke the next morning, the house was quiet—he’d already left. My expression remained neutral as I went to the company and submitted my resignation. If I was going to leave, I’d do it completely. I’d only stayed at this company because of Ethan anyway, to work alongside him, to have more time together. But at work, he’d hidden our marriage, saying it wouldn’t look good. Not only that, he deliberately kept his distance from me. When subordinates needed to accompany him on business trips, he never chose me. In meetings, he treated me like I was invisible. Even when I completed a major project independently, I never earned his praise. This cold attitude made colleagues think Ethan must have something against me. Or that I’d offended him privately. HR was one of the few people at the company who knew about my relationship with Ethan. “You’re leaving?” “Ethan only said to demote you, he didn’t say anything about resignation…” I froze. “Demotion?” HR nodded, looking at me with sympathy. “Your position was taken by someone parachuted in from abroad. Ethan specifically arranged it.” I felt a chill spreading through my heart. I heard my own trembling voice: “Her name—is it Claire Bennett?” “Yes, that’s the name.” I could barely stand and steadied myself against the desk. Even though I was leaving anyway, hearing this news still felt like an earth-shattering defeat. At the company, Ethan had never given me any special treatment. I’d climbed to the director position through my own abilities, step by step. And he just handed it to her.

Tonight was the company anniversary with a gala event. Before officially resigning, I still attended. At least I needed to claim my year-end bonus. In front of everyone, Ethan publicly announced Claire Bennett’s hiring on stage. He even specifically told everyone to take good care of the new colleague. People whispered: “Oh my God, is this really something our stone-faced Ethan would say?” I sat in the audience listening, dutifully applauding. Ethan’s gaze drifted toward me, as if observing my reaction. The next second, Claire beside him wobbled in her heels, and he immediately turned to steady her. Halfway through the banquet, I went to the terrace for air and heard Ethan talking with his friend. “What, another cold war with Lily?” He swirled his wine glass carelessly. “Yeah.” His friend sighed. “When will you ever take the initiative to apologize and comfort her? Girls like her are rare.” “I know.” “Then why’d you bring Claire here to humiliate Lily? This will only worsen things between you two. What if Lily really can’t take it anymore and leaves?” “She won’t.” Ethan paused, then continued with certainty, “Lily will never leave me.” He was still that confident. Thinking I’d give in like every time before. I was about to turn and leave when Claire’s voice sounded behind me. “What a coincidence. Want to have a drink together?” Claire naturally walked to my side, her tone intimate as if we were old friends. “I forgot to greet you last time. You’re Lily, right?” “Sorry for taking your position as soon as I arrived.” The remark carried a double meaning. I caught the provocation in her words and asked coldly, “Claire, are we close?” She smiled even more brightly. “I don’t know much about you, but you must know quite a bit about me, right?” I knew she must have seen my visitor record in the logs. Seeing that I still wouldn’t take the bait or show the fury she’d imagined, Claire grew unhappy and simply poured the wine in her glass onto herself, letting out a cry. The aloof man nearby immediately changed expression and rushed over. “Lily, what are you doing?” I clenched my fist but didn’t explain. I just threw the wine in my glass at his face. Amid the gasps around us, I laughed coldly. “This is what I did.” A waiter quickly brought towels. Ethan wiped the wine from his face, those eyes dark as a frozen pond watching me with inscrutable meaning. In the end, he said nothing and left the banquet with Claire. I watched their retreating figures and simply pulled out my phone to send a message. “My resignation letter and divorce papers are both on your desk.” “Remember to sign.” After sending it, I blocked and deleted his number. I went home to grab the luggage I’d already packed, discovering two tickets to Hokkaido. Did Ethan actually think that while I’d been packing these days, I was looking forward to going to see snow with him? Expressionless, I tore the ticket with my name on it in half. Without looking back, I left the city.

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When I discovered that my adoptive parents’ family had stolen my “luck,” I decided to let it all go. I started slacking off. I daydreamed in class, handed in blank exams, and voluntarily sat next to the worst student in our grade. The result? My slacking off got me accepted into Stanford, my adoptive sister didn’t even get into a community college, and my adoptive parents’ business was on the verge of bankruptcy. They knelt and begged me to try hard again. I sneered: “Move aside. Don’t block my way to inheriting a multi-million dollar fortune.” 1. After receiving another abysmal report card, I jumped into the river. Standing on the bridge, the disappointed faces of my adoptive parents flashed through my mind. They said, “Maya, why did you do so poorly again?” My adoptive sister, Chloe, sneered from the side, “You pretend to work so hard all the time, but the truth comes out during the exams.” I defended myself quietly. I wasn’t pretending. I really was trying my best. I only slept five hours a day, attended four tutoring classes on weekends, and had stacks of study materials piled high. I even memorized vocabulary words while eating and walking. But hearing this only made Chloe laugh louder. She said, “Maya, if you work so hard, why are you always at the bottom of the class?” Out of more than six hundred seniors, Chloe consistently ranked in the top three, while I was always somewhere past four hundred. To her, I was practically dead last. I had no answer, but Chloe wouldn’t let it go. “Either you’re a liar, or there’s something wrong with your brain.” She leaned in and whispered in my ear, her words feeling like a curse: “Either way, you’re just trash. What’s the point of you even being alive?” “Maya, why don’t you just die?” Later, I kept asking myself: What is the point of me being alive? My grades were terrible, nothing went right, and the people around me treated me like a jinx, avoiding me at all costs. I closed my eyes and leaped into the freezing river. 2. [Congratulations on awakening the ‘Slacker System.’ Activation successful. Wishing you a happy life where all your wishes come true.] A robotic voice echoed in my head. Just as I opened my eyes, a wave of nausea hit me. After coughing for what felt like ages, I finally felt a bit better. I looked around, my emotions a tangled mess. I didn’t die. I had learned the whole truth and awakened the Slacker System. It turned out I was originally supposed to have a happy, fulfilling life. But my adoptive parents’ family schemed to steal my “luck” (qi yun). The harder I worked, the happier they became, and the unluckier I got. I felt the [Slacker Progress Bar] in my mind. It was a metallic cylinder, with the number 0% displayed right above it. When that number hits 100%, I will get my luck back and live a normal life. A cold wind blew, and I couldn’t help but shiver, pulling my jacket tighter around me. All those agonizing memories finally made sense. My adoptive parents pushed me to study relentlessly, nearly driving me insane. It was all just to ensure Chloe got excellent grades and their business thrived. That’s why, no matter how much Chloe cried and complained about me, they insisted on keeping me around. I had begged them for familial love, but from beginning to end, they only saw me as a tool to be used. The people I thought were my family were actually the culprits who pushed me to despair. I swear I will make them pay. 3. By the time I walked home, it was already dark. My adoptive parents’ family was having dinner, laughing and talking. Seeing me walk in, they instantly went quiet. Chloe let out a cold snort: “Oh, you know how to come home? I thought you did so badly on the test you were too ashamed to show your face.” My adoptive father put on a fake smile: “Maya, it’s okay if you didn’t do well. Just try harder next time.” He looked so high and mighty, pretending to be magnanimous. They were waiting for me to apologize, to reflect on my mistakes, and to promise I would work even harder next time. Well, they were going to be disappointed. Under their watchful eyes, I walked into the kitchen, scooped a heaping bowl of rice, and sat straight down at the dining table to eat. The atmosphere grew even weirder. Chloe’s eyes widened: “How dare you sit at the table?” Right. Chloe never let me eat at the table. She said I was too much of a jinx and that eating with me would bring her bad luck. In the past, my adoptive parents always humored her, and I just swallowed my pride. But I wasn’t going to hold back anymore. “I’m hungry, so of course I’m going to eat. What, when you’re hungry, do you go eat shit? No wonder your breath stinks.” Chloe’s eyes widened even further. Glare all you want, I thought. See if your eyeballs pop out. I continued shoving the delicious, fragrant ribs into my mouth. So good. Having just walked through the gates of hell, I was feeling a lot bolder. If I wasn’t even afraid of dying, why should I be afraid of Chloe? 4. Chloe was furious. She opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by my adoptive father. “Maya, even if you didn’t do well, you shouldn’t take it out on your sister.” “I spent three thousand dollars to enroll you in a new tutoring center. As long as you try hard, I don’t mind spending the money.” I kept my head down and kept eating, not saying a word. On the surface, he was doing it for my own good, but deep down, he knew exactly who he was doing it for. But his words were like adding fuel to the fire for Chloe. What she hated most was how much “effort” and money my adoptive parents spent on me. If we had been at school, she would have shoved me into the trash cans by now. Ignoring Chloe’s venomous glare, I took another bite of rice and said flatly, “I’m not going.” But my adoptive father was just informing me. My unusual behavior today had exhausted his patience. “You have to go. Also, there’s a physics competition this weekend. You’re entering it with Chloe.” Ever since we were little, whatever Chloe did, I had to do too. If she took dance classes, I had to take them too. If she entered a singing competition, I had to enter too. Even for the smallest, most insignificant competitions, I had to tag along. The only difference was that she always took first place, and I was always dead last. “Dad! Why are you making this loser go again?” “I’m not going.” Chloe and I spoke at the exact same time. 5. Chloe turned her head and glared at me viciously. “A loser like you going is just a waste of a spot.” I suddenly realized that Chloe probably didn’t know about the luck-stealing scheme. Otherwise, she would be forcing me to enter the competition. In her mind, all her good grades were purely due to her own brilliance, and had absolutely nothing to do with me. She just genuinely hated me. She saw me as a jinx who brought bad luck and stole her parents’ affection. She felt fully entitled to her smooth, successful life and treated me as her personal punching bag. But Chloe, everything you have was originally mine. You stole it all from me. I sneered, put down my bowl and chopsticks, and got up to leave. As I was walking up the stairs, I heard my adoptive mother’s voice. “Chloe, Mom told you before, even recycled cardboard can be sold for cash. A loser obviously has her uses too.” I looked back and met Chloe’s gaze. She smiled arrogantly, looking incredibly smug. I smiled too. Because the number on the [Slacker Progress Bar] had just jumped to 7%. We have plenty of time. Let’s see who has the last laugh. 6. On the day of the physics competition, my adoptive father drove Chloe and me to the testing center. He instructed Chloe: “Just focus on the exam. After you’re done, Dad will reward you with a new Macbook.” Then he turned to me with a meaningful look: “Maya, do your best.” I smiled: “Okay.” Chloe scoffed disdainfully: “Doing her best won’t help. She’s destined to be dead last.” I watched my adoptive father’s car drive away, then turned and walked in the opposite direction of the testing center. Chloe grabbed my arm: “Where are you going?” She looked at me suspiciously: “You’re not planning on skipping the exam, are you?” I shook off her hand: “Yep.” Chloe: “…” I smiled: “I hope you get a great score.” Chloe’s face turned black as coal. She looked at me like I was an idiot. “Maya, are you sick in the head?” “If I am, do you have the cure? If not, shut the hell up.” I turned and walked away, leaving Chloe cursing at me from behind. I wanted to see if Chloe could still get good grades without me there to siphon luck from. 7. I spent the whole morning wandering around the park, feeding stray cats while watching my slacker value rise to 18%. Not bad, not bad. Breaking free from the Vance family’s control is just around the corner. I hummed a tune as I walked into the school. The moment I reached my desk, my mood plummeted. My desk was covered in scribbles: Loser, Coward, Parasite… Next to the colorful writing was a crudely drawn turtle. I pulled some tissues out of my backpack and tried to wipe it off, but the marker wouldn’t budge. My desk mate watched me and suddenly said, “Stop wiping. Isn’t what’s written there pretty accurate?” I glanced at her: “Chloe told you to write this, didn’t she?” She admitted it readily: “Yeah, so what? You…” “Nothing.” I smiled at her, and while she looked completely confused, I flipped her desk over! The lid on her water bottle was open, and water spilled all over the floor. “Ah!” The loud crash of the desk hitting the floor, mixed with my desk mate’s scream, instantly drew the attention of the entire class. Our homeroom teacher, Mr. Harris, had just walked in and was startled. “What is going on here?” he asked, frowning as he walked over. I spoke before my desk mate could: “I want to change seats.” Mr. Harris’s frown deepened until it looked like it could crush a fly. “You are always causing trouble. Your grades are terrible, and you’re always getting into conflicts with your classmates. Tell me, who would even want to sit next to you?” Mr. Harris spoke loudly, but no one in the class made a sound. It was true. Who would want to sit next to a loser who brought bad luck? Besides, who would dare risk offending Chloe, who had great grades and a wealthy family, just for me? 8. My desk mate’s eyes were full of schadenfreude. She was probably already plotting how to make my life miserable later. I had to change seats. I simply picked up my desk and moved it to the very back row. If no one wanted to sit with me, I’d just sit by myself. But Mr. Harris looked at me strangely: “You want to sit next to Julian?” Before I could answer, the whole class erupted. “Maya wants to sit next to the school delinquent?” “Is she crazy? Julian never lets anyone sit next to him. I heard the last guy who tried was bullied into transferring schools.” Julian, the school delinquent, was notorious for his explosive temper and for being someone you did not want to mess with. He was always late, always leaving early, and his grades were at the very bottom. Rumor had it he put a classmate in the hospital, but his family paid to cover it up. The teachers were afraid to discipline him, and the students were even more terrified of him. The back row was very empty. The delinquent’s desk sat isolated in a large, open space. Uh, even though I wanted to be a slacker, I didn’t want a death wish. Just as I was about to say never mind, the back door creaked open. I turned my head and saw Julian walking in. 9. Julian’s arrival pushed the tension to a boiling point. I watched helplessly as he walked into the classroom and glanced at me when he reached his desk. Everyone’s eyes darted between the two of us. I even heard someone whisper, “Is Julian going to kick Maya across the room?” My desk was still a foot away from his. I shouldn’t… get kicked across the room, right? But to my surprise, Julian just sat down with a cold expression and didn’t say a single word. At first, I was pretty nervous, terrified that the delinquent would get annoyed and turn into Chloe 2.0. But later I noticed he just slept during class. Occasionally, he’d pull out an advanced physics textbook and scribble in it. I finally relaxed. It seemed the delinquent was actually quite reasonable. I felt bad for even comparing him to Chloe; that was an insult to him. While I was lost in thought, Mr. Harris called on me: “Maya, pay attention in class. Your grades are already terrible. Aren’t you embarrassed if you don’t even try?” The class erupted in laughter. In their eyes, I was probably just a worthless loser who had completely given up. But this was exactly what I wanted. 10. That afternoon after school, I watched Chloe get into the family’s Maybach and drive off. Of course, that was Chloe’s “private car,” and I wasn’t allowed to ride in it. According to my adoptive parents’ schedule, I should be heading to the fifth tutoring center I was newly enrolled in, finishing up around 11:00 PM, and then walking home. I’d be working harder than a rented mule. I rolled my eyes and walked straight into a Korean BBQ place I had been craving for a long time but never had the chance to try. The BBQ was delicious, and my slacker value kept rising, eventually stopping at 28%. Today’s achievements were quite remarkable. I felt pretty good about myself. But my good mood came to a screeching halt the moment I walked through the front door. My adoptive parents were sitting on the sofa, waiting for me, and they didn’t look happy. Sigh, this family is really a buzzkill. 11. I wiped the smile off my face and put on my usual submissive expression. Then I ignored them and headed straight for the stairs. That’s when my adoptive mother spoke up: “Maya, come here. We need to talk.” I didn’t move. I just asked what they wanted. My adoptive father frowned, clearly dissatisfied with my rebellious behavior. “Maya, you’ve been making a lot of mistakes lately. First, you talked back to your sister, and now you’re not listening to your parents either. I used to think you were a good kid. Even though your grades weren’t great, you worked hard. Why is your character getting worse and worse?” He then listed my “crimes” one by one, including but not limited to talking back to the homeroom teacher, changing seats without permission, sitting next to the worst student in the grade, and skipping tutoring. Blah, blah, blah. He delivered his final verdict: “Maya, you need to reflect on your actions. Write a ten-thousand-word apology letter.” I raised an eyebrow slightly: “Really? Chloe is the one who needs to write an apology letter. She struts around school acting like a tyrant…” My adoptive father yelled: “She is your sister!” “Not by blood.” I added calmly: “And neither are you.” “Chloe called me a parasite, but I think there are three vampires living in this house.” My adoptive parents looked shocked and uneasy, clearly guilty. I snorted and turned around to see Chloe standing on the stairs in an evening gown. Ugh, so annoying. I just glanced at her, and Chloe immediately started showing off: “Mom had this dress custom-made for me. Jealous?” “I’m performing a solo dance at the school anniversary gala. Liam, the most popular guy in school, is playing the piano for me. And the principal is going to publicly commend me for getting first place in the physics competition.” Chloe smiled smugly and arrogantly: “A loser like you will probably never have a chance like this in your next life.” 12. It was clear the Vance family was taking this opportunity very seriously. They even had a high-end designer gown made and hired a photographer to follow her around, determined to steal the spotlight. On stage, Liam played the piano, and Chloe performed her solo dance under the spotlight. I heard a classmate next to me whisper in admiration: “Liam and Chloe look so good together! Both gorgeous and both top students…” In the audience, my adoptive parents were accepting compliments from other parents, smiling so wide they looked like blooming flowers. “Your daughter is truly outstanding. Not only is she beautiful, but she’s also incredibly talented. I heard she even got first place in the physics competition?” My adoptive mother’s eyes crinkled so much you could barely see them: “Oh, well, they haven’t announced the results yet, but I’m sure she got first…” The Dean of Students chimed in, kissing up to them: “Chloe is an exceptional student. She’ll definitely take first place.” I looked at Chloe on stage and felt sick to my stomach. Two years ago, Chloe and I both made it to the final four in a dance competition. But the day before the finals, she pushed me down a flight of stairs. As a result, I broke my leg, and Chloe took third place. Afterward, my adoptive parents just brushed it off, saying Chloe didn’t do it on purpose and telling me to be the bigger person. Just like they clearly knew Chloe bullied me at school but chose to turn a blind eye. 13. After the performances came the awards ceremony. The Vice Principal walked onto the stage to read the list of commended students. Chloe’s name wasn’t there. I sneered inwardly as a murmur spread through the students. A parent nearby asked in surprise: “Why isn’t Chloe’s name on the list?” My adoptive parents, who had been holding their heads high with pride, suddenly looked very uncomfortable. My adoptive father frowned and asked: “Did they accidentally skip her name?” The Vice Principal might be old and have bad eyesight, but his hearing was perfectly fine. And, he was quite petty. He glanced at my adoptive father, read the list again with a straight face, and then shook the paper, as if saying, See? It’s really not here. The gesture was so comical I actually laughed out loud. That laugh was like adding fuel to the fire for my adoptive father. He snapped at the sweating Dean of Students: “I suspect foul play. There is no way Chloe isn’t on that list.” But the Vice Principal was even more blunt: “Well, she isn’t! Chloe scored dead last!” As soon as he said that, the entire auditorium erupted. 14. The Vice Principal was truly furious. Our school ranked among the top two in the state, and we had never had such a terrible score in a competition before. The Dean of Students invited my adoptive parents backstage, and they angrily called me to come with them. When we went in, Chloe was crying and hugging Liam. When she saw me walk in, she hugged him even tighter, looking like she wanted to be glued to him. The Dean of Students coughed awkwardly, and Liam pushed Chloe away. My adoptive parents, however, acted as if they didn’t even notice their daughter hugging a boy. Right now, they only cared about the competition results. “Mr. Zhang, what exactly is going on here?” The Dean’s expression grew even more awkward: “Um… Chloe’s name really isn’t on the list… there was no mistake. They double-checked the exams when the scores came out. There’s definitely no issue…” My adoptive father raised his voice: “Mr. Zhang, you have to give us a reasonable explanation. Chloe has always been in the top three of her class. It’s impossible for her to score that poorly, unless…” He paused and turned his gaze to me. “Maya, you went and took the physics competition exam, didn’t you?” I met his gaze and heard Chloe’s shrill voice. “She didn’t! Dad, she didn’t go. She must have sabotaged me!” My adoptive father ignored her, staring fixedly at me: “Maya, answer my question. Did you take the competition exam?” I took a deep breath and met his eyes. “No.” 15. A deathly silence fell over the backstage area. Liam and the Dean of Students were shocked by the word “Dad,” looking back and forth between me and the Vance family in astonishment. My adoptive parents’ faces turned a sickly green, while Chloe looked completely bewildered. After a long pause, my adoptive father finally spoke through gritted teeth: “Very well… Maya, you actually dare to rebel. It seems we’ve been too lenient with you.” “We raised you all this time, and you turn out to be an ungrateful wretch.” “Get on your knees and apologize!” I coldly watched his furious, humiliated display: “What did I do wrong?” “Was I wrong for not letting Chloe bully me? Or was I wrong for not letting you siphon my life away?” My adoptive father’s face flushed bright red with anger. Just as I thought he was going to hit me, a weak voice broke the silence: “Excuse me, sorry to interrupt…” We all looked over and saw a student peeking out from behind the curtain. He pointed at the piano and whispered: “Um, the microphone on the piano is still on…” 16. The fact that Chloe and I were sisters quickly spread throughout the entire school. The impact was no less than dropping a nuclear bomb. After all, who in the entire senior class didn’t know that Chloe hated me? Every time report cards came out, she would publicly humiliate me. She called me a loser, a jinx, saying anyone who got close to me would be cursed with bad luck, which led to me being isolated by the whole school. Now, Chloe was throwing a tantrum and refusing to come to school, so my adoptive parents got her a long-term medical leave. Without her there, the air at school felt fresher. And my slacker progress bar was almost halfway full. I was in a great mood, feeling like my life was looking up. What’s more, I had made my first friend— I poked Julian’s arm: “Hey, let me tutor you.” After becoming desk mates with Julian, I discovered that he wasn’t the ruthless delinquent the rumors made him out to be. He was clearly just a quiet, misanthropic teenager. Correction: a handsome, good-tempered, but quiet, misanthropic teenager. Julian looked up from his comic book, his expression complicated: “Are you joking?” I blinked. Was Julian looking down on me? As my slacker progress bar had been rising, my luck had improved significantly. At the very least, I didn’t suffer any sudden “illnesses” during exams and was able to comfortably finish my papers. My class ranking slowly climbed from past 400 to around 200. Although it wasn’t high, it was certainly better than Julian’s zero-point exams, right? “You always bring me breakfast. I have to repay you.” Julian looked a bit uncomfortable: “No need.” Julian was great in every way, except his misanthropy was too strong. I racked my brain for a bunch of reasons to persuade him when I suddenly heard someone calling my name. “Maya, Mr. Harris wants to see you in his office.” 17. As I walked to the office door, I heard my adoptive mother’s voice. “Mr. Zhang, I heard the results of this midterm exam are tied to college recommendation spots?” “Yes, Chloe’s past grades have been excellent. As long as she performs normally this time, getting a recommendation will definitely be no problem.” “Mr. Zhang, Chloe is always outstanding. I’m not worried about her.” My adoptive mother let out a long sigh and continued: “The main issue is Maya. She’s been very rebellious lately. She won’t listen to anything her father and I say, and she’s caused a lot of trouble for the school.” “Since the child is struggling, we hope you can keep an eye on her. This midterm exam is very important, and she absolutely must participate.” “Oh, you’re being too polite! It’s truly a parent’s heavy burden! I will definitely make sure Maya takes the midterm exam. I’ll personally watch her walk into the testing room.” I pushed the door open and walked in. My adoptive mother was shoving a gift bag into the Dean’s hands. Both of them froze when they saw me. I walked straight over and sat on the sofa: “It’s fine. Don’t mind me. Keep giving gifts, keep taking them.” The Dean’s face turned red and pale alternately, and he let out two awkward laughs. My adoptive mother put the gift bag under the desk: “What nonsense are you talking about?” Then she handed another gift bag to me: “I bought this for you.” My adoptive mother wasn’t good at trying to please me. Her smile was as stiff as a mannequin’s. I frowned and looked at her: “Stop smiling. You’re scaring me.” She immediately dropped her smile and shot a look at the Dean of Students. The Dean understood immediately. “Um, Maya, the teacher called you here to talk about your recent behavior. Let’s put the competition behind us. The teacher will just assume you were under too much pressure. The midterm is coming up, and you need to work hard.” The two of them went back and forth, but it boiled down to one thing: I had to take this midterm. “Got it.” I couldn’t be bothered to listen anymore and stood up. My adoptive mother’s eyes were full of expectation and calculation. I smiled slightly: “I will take the midterm.” If they wanted to use me to pave the way for Chloe’s future, they shouldn’t blame me for becoming the “stumbling block” on their path. 18. I don’t know how much my adoptive parents bribed the Dean of Students. On the day of the midterm, he watched me walk into the testing room and stood by the door for a good while, only leaving satisfied when he saw me start writing. During the six exams, he showed up six times, thoroughly confusing the proctor and making me a target of intense scrutiny. Let him watch. I was as calm as could be. He was standing too far away anyway. He couldn’t see that I was writing all the answers on scratch paper. … When I walked out of the school gates, I immediately saw Chloe and my adoptive parents. Chloe was holding a bouquet of flowers, surrounded by her lackeys, looking arrogant as if she had just won a war. My adoptive mother asked with a smile: “Chloe, how do you think you did this time?” Chloe looked smug: “I thought the questions were very easy. I’ll definitely take first place.” Her lackeys immediately hyped her up: “Chloe, you’re amazing! A lot of people said the questions were super hard this time.” “Yeah, Chloe is just too good.” They were making a lot of noise, bursting into laughter every now and then. The commotion attracted reporters who were interviewing students at the gate. They pointed their cameras at Chloe: “Excuse me, could we interview you?” Chloe proudly lifted her chin and said elegantly: “Sure.” “I heard you say the questions were easy this time. May I ask which school you’re from? How are your usual grades?” Chloe answered, and her lackeys chimed in, painting a glorious picture, basically hyping Chloe up like a goddess from heaven. My adoptive parents got in the shot too. When the reporter asked how they raised such an outstanding daughter, my adoptive father spoke with a proud tone: “Of course, it’s because our family has good genes. And Chloe is very hardworking. Talent plus hard work leads to success.” I watched in amazement. What a shameless family. Chloe noticed me standing in the crowd. Her smile froze for a second, but then she smiled even more arrogantly: “Some people are just born without the brains for studying, so they shouldn’t waste their effort. They’d be better off dropping out early and doing manual labor. At least they’d be contributing to society.”

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I was the craziest actress in Hollywood. Because I was bound to a “Superstar System.” If I didn’t focus on my career, the system would literally make me explode! 1 Other people come to Hollywood to be movie stars. I came to be a Special Forces operative. [886 photos posted, 3 dance studio videos, 2 recording studio videos, and 8 daily vlogs in two months. Is Chloe Thorne in Hollywood to be a Navy SEAL?] [That’s not all! My girl Chloe has 3 upcoming movies, 2 reality shows in the pipeline, and zero scandals since her debut. I heard she’s starting a new shoot tomorrow. I seriously suspect she has a system.] When my agent, Monica, read those two top comments out loud, I was right in the middle of picking the script for my next project. “Chloe, you’ve been working non-stop since you debuted the year before last. Don’t you want to take a few months off this year?” Monica advised me. I wanted to rest too, but if I rested, my system would throw a fit. It would kill me. That’s right! I actually have a system. Ever since the finale night of the talent show, I was automatically bound to the “Superstar System.” The main quest of the “Superstar System” is: [Win the Academy Award for Best Actress within three years.] [Quest Success: Reward of $800 billion.] [Quest Failure: Explode and die.] [Please note: While progressing through the main quest, side quests will be randomly triggered.] Tell me, do I dare to rest? “No,” I refused decisively. “Monica, didn’t director James Cameron send over a script? Why don’t I see it?” Monica pursed her lips: “The female lead for Cameron’s project has already been decided.” “It’s Olivia Vance.” Olivia Vance. My former teammate from the limited-time girl group that had already disbanded. On the night of the finale, I beat Olivia by a single vote. Olivia was a product of capital; she had numerous financial backers behind her. They were supposed to guarantee her first place, but I came out of nowhere. I had too many organic votes from the public, so many that even the organizers couldn’t suppress them. So I debuted in first place, and she took second. For the past two years, she had been secretly competing with me. Although she stole quite a few leading roles from me, unfortunately, the persona her backers gave her was the “Only Pure White Jasmine in Hollywood.” Therefore, her acting roles were limited, and I could still snatch some good scripts that slipped through her fingers. But this movie by James Cameron, Shadows, I absolutely would not yield to her. Because two months ago, I completed my third side quest. The system gave me a crucial piece of information. James Cameron’s movie Shadows will be nominated for the 78th Academy Awards, and the actress playing the female lead will win Best Actress. Which means—the Oscar. The 78th Academy Awards ceremony is in December of this year, exactly the third year of my main quest’s time limit. I had to get the female lead role in Shadows, even if it killed me. “Monica, is Director Cameron in L.A. right now? I want to invite him to dinner.” Monica paused for a moment: “Director Cameron has a dinner meeting with Olivia at 9 PM tonight.” I frowned: “Monica, if I hadn’t asked, were you not planning to tell me?” “Chloe, you’ve developed too fast these past two years.” “The agency talked to me a couple of days ago. They want you to rest for a year, slow down your pace.” Understood. Olivia was applying pressure. Unable to keep up with my pace, she could only resort to such despicable methods to force me to stop. “Monica, you should be able to get the address for Director Cameron’s dinner tonight, right?” Monica remained silent for a long time, picked up her phone, and forwarded me a location pin. 2 At 9:15 PM. Wearing stilettos, I pushed open the door to VIP Room 1. When Olivia saw me, she was visibly surprised. “Director Cameron, what is the meaning of this?” “You invite me to dinner and call…” Before Olivia could finish her sentence, I threw a glass of water right in her face. “Bitch! You homewrecker, I’ll teach you to steal my man!” Olivia was stunned, frozen in place. I followed up with slap after slap to her face. Slapping her cheeks bright red. “I saw you and David coming out of the hotel!” “Do I have to catch you in bed to get you to admit you’re a homewrecker?” “Chloe Thorne! Are you crazy?” “What homewrecker?” “Is there something wrong with your brain?” Olivia, finally reacting, covered her face, her eyes red, feeling incredibly wronged. I calmed myself down and sat down next to Olivia. I grabbed her hand and apologized sincerely. “Sorry, Olivia. I made you act out a scene with me without you knowing.” “But, your acting seems a bit rusty.” Olivia was furious. She shook off my hand and glared at me viciously: “Who knew you were acting?” I looked at James Cameron, who was sitting there perfectly composed, with a hint of surprise in my tone: “Director Cameron, is this the female lead you chose?” “A female lead who doesn’t even remember the highlight scene from the script?” James Cameron took a deep breath, looking up at me: “Chloe, there’s no denying your acting is very good, and you fit the female lead in Shadows perfectly.” “But Olivia is the female lead designated by the investors. I have no choice.” “Also, who showed you the script for Shadows?” “I did.” Before I could answer, someone else beat me to it. The door to the private room was pushed open again, and a broad silhouette appeared along with a cold, deep voice. “Has Director Cameron considered changing investors?” We both looked in the direction of the voice. James Cameron immediately stood up, a hint of trepidation in his voice: “Mr., Mr. Sterling?” “What brings you here?” Arthur Sterling smoothly sat down next to me, his expression nonchalant: “Ms. Thorne asked me to come, so I came.” Arthur Sterling. The most powerful and influential businessman in the New York elite circle. He started from nothing and single-handedly crushed all the flourishing enterprises in the city during his prime. He fought his way out from among thousands of companies. To this day, he can command the wind and rain in any circle. In the sixth month after my debut night, I triggered the first side quest. The quest was: Within three months, fan engagement must reach 80%, and New York elite Arthur Sterling must actively initiate the strategy process towards you. Actively initiate the strategy process? Meaning, fall in love with me? I stayed up all night researching “Arthur Sterling.” When I found out he had half the entertainment industry in the palm of his hand, I posted 88 beautiful photos for marketing the very next day. For those three months, I trended countless times and was active on Twitter almost 24/7. Under my diligent efforts, finally, in the third month, the task was completed. That night, I received a call from an unknown number: “Is this Ms. Chloe Thorne?” “Mr. Sterling would like to invite you to dinner.” “I’m sorry, my schedule is full recently. Please contact my agent.” Yes, I refused. Even though latching onto Arthur meant I would never have to worry about resources for the rest of my life. But there was a rumor that Arthur once had a girlfriend who was kept like a caged bird. After getting together with Arthur, she was restricted from taking intimate scenes and couldn’t interact with any opposite sex. I couldn’t do that. I wasn’t willing to give up my career to become someone else’s accessory. After that day, I found an opportunity. I met Arthur on a very formal occasion. It was when I won my first Best Singer award, and it was also the first time Arthur, as the organizer, came to present an award to a singer. I knew with my eyes closed that Arthur was there for me. On the glittering stage, he personally handed the shining golden trophy into my hands. I bowed slightly, leaning close to his ear: “Mr. Sterling, I’m sorry, I really couldn’t make time last time.” “You know, other people come to Hollywood to be female stars, but I came to be a Special Forces operative.” “Can I buy you dinner next time?” Arthur looked up and met my eyes for a second: “On call, anytime.” 3 The next time I contacted Arthur was exactly 1 hour before arriving at the private room. I called him from the production van. “Is this Mr. Sterling?” “Ms. Thorne, it is.” “Are you free tonight? For dinner?” “I can be.” “Then,” I was a little nervous, “Would you mind if I used you for a bit?” The other end of the line went silent for a few seconds. Then, a deep male voice sounded: “Let’s hear it.” I told Arthur my entire plan. Two minutes after hanging up, he sent a file and two voice messages: — Shadows.docx — “I’m not in the city; I’ll arrive a few minutes later than you.” — “Call me if anything happens.” Arthur wasn’t in the city? He was out of town? And he rushed back for me? I admit, in that moment, I was nervous. “Director Cameron, does the industry really not care about acting skills anymore?” Arthur’s gaze was cold, his voice lazy but carrying a hint of sarcasm. “Mr. Sterling, I can’t decide this either.” “If I don’t use the actor they designated, the investors will pull their funding, and I won’t be able to shoot this movie.” James Cameron frantically explained to Arthur. Olivia, sitting next to me, started to look uncomfortable, her face showing distress. After all, no one in all of New York didn’t fear Arthur. “I’ll have them withdraw their investment. I’ll take over.” “The opening ceremony is set for tomorrow.” “The female lead is Chloe Thorne.” The business was handled before we even ate. When Arthur does things, he really is all about high efficiency and cutting the crap. “Good! Good!” “I was planning to send the script to Chloe anyway.” “If she isn’t the female lead, this movie of mine really would be ruined.” James Cameron hurriedly agreed with Arthur, kissing up to me. Arthur ignored him, casually checking the watch on his wrist. Then, he leaned in, close to my ear, and whispered: “I have something to do. I’m leaving first.” The warm breath brushed my ear, making it feel hot. I thought since Arthur had done me such a huge favor, he would definitely ask for something in return. I had even prepared my excuse for politely declining him tonight. But he just left without another word. It seems that in this high society blinded by money and luxury, there are still people who live with clear heads. 4 After Arthur left, I held Olivia’s hand again, pretending to be sympathetic: “I’m sorry, Olivia. Director Cameron said you weren’t up to par.” “I’ll be taking this female lead role.” “Oh, and I forgot to tell you.” “There was only one slap in the script. The rest were payback for the stunt double on your last movie.” Olivia had a slapping scene in her last movie too. She could have easily gotten it right in one or two takes, but she intentionally messed up over a dozen times. It caused the stunt double to suffer soft tissue damage to her face. Most importantly, this stunt double wasn’t just anybody. She was the one who debuted in 9th place the year we did, our former teammate. The “Only Pure White Jasmine in Hollywood” sure was pure white. Olivia was furious, but she didn’t dare raise a hand to hit me. Because with her fragile little frame, she absolutely couldn’t beat me. She could only resort to insulting me with her words resentfully: “Chloe, you speak as if you’re so much nobler than me!” “I have financial backers, don’t you too?” “Did he just whisper in your ear to go wait for him at the hotel and tell you to hurry up?” “Arthur did you such a huge favor.” “Aren’t you going to get played to death tonight?” I sneered: “Olivia, everyone in the industry knows you have a suite on the top floor of the Pegasus Tower.” “Every Tuesday night, the lights on the top floor stay on all night.” “Whenever I got off work late and passed by there, I used to think, as a fellow woman, if I had enough power, I definitely wouldn’t let you become a plaything for capital.” Olivia didn’t seem to fully grasp what I was saying. “What do you mean?” I changed my tone, unable to hide the smirk on my lips: “But then I thought about it, it seems no one forced you back then.” “You proactively climbed into the beds of those executives yourself.” “Looks like you brought it upon yourself.” Olivia went crazy. She grabbed whatever was on the table and threw it at me. I quickly stepped back, dodging her attack. “Olivia, you’re still exactly the same as you were back in the factory. When you lose an argument, you just go crazy.” Teaching her a little lesson was enough; I didn’t plan on dragging out the fight. So I shifted my gaze to James Cameron: “Director Cameron, I will be on time for the opening ceremony tomorrow.” “I hope we have a pleasant collaboration.” As I left, I heard James Cameron sigh: “Olivia, why did you have to provoke her?” 5 After that day, Arthur never contacted me again. I was pressed for time and the tasks were heavy. Operating on the principle of “less is more,” I didn’t actively contact Arthur either. The shooting schedule for Shadows was set for 4 months, and 3 months had already flown by. The shooting progress was very smooth. I figured it must be under Arthur’s protection. The last month was entirely outdoor location shoots. Today was a scene where I fell off a cliff by the ocean. I had to jump into the sea from an 8-story-high cliff. Even though I had wire protection, in this stormy weather, I was still a little nervous. [Scene one, take one.] The moment the clapperboard snapped, filming officially began. Wearing a white wedding dress, I looked at the camera with tear-filled eyes, then ran desperately towards the edge of the cliff. The rain mixed with the tears on my face. The moment I leaped over the cliff and soared through the air, the entire movie was elevated to its climax. But, when this perfect take finally ended, what welcomed me wasn’t the director’s praise and the crew’s cheers, but the freezing, bone-chilling seawater. I don’t know what went wrong with the wire, but the moment I lost my balance— It snapped. Before I could even call for help, I was knocked unconscious by the waves. … When I was about to slip into nothingness, I heard someone calling me: “Chloe!” “Chloe!!” His voice was strange yet familiar. I wanted to open my eyes, but my eyelids felt so heavy. Ultimately, I couldn’t open my eyes. I only heard him gently say in my ear: “Chloe, you must stay safe.” 6 When I woke up again, I was in a psychiatric hospital. My hands and feet were tied to a hospital bed. “Is anyone there?” “Why am I tied up?” “Monica! Monica!” … I yelled for a long time before a nurse in a white coat finally came in. “What are you yelling for?” “You can leave when you’re cured. If you don’t cooperate, we’ll give you a sedative.” “I’m not sick!” “Who diagnosed me? I just had a little accident on set. There’s nothing wrong with my brain!” “Let me make a phone call; I’ll have someone come pick me up!” The doctor in the white coat sneered: “See, you’re talking nonsense already, and you still say you aren’t sick.” Then, she slammed a file she was holding onto the table next to me: “Who told you to offend someone you shouldn’t have?” “The boss said, if you sign this agreement, you can leave immediately.” “Otherwise, stay in this psychiatric hospital for the rest of your life.” “What agreement?” I stopped struggling and forced myself to calm down. The doctor untied my hands and feet. I picked up the agreement and laughed in anger when I saw the name of the first party. The person who set this trap for me was the backer behind Olivia, the chairman of the Pegasus Group—Marcus Pegasus. This agreement laid out three demands. After my contract with my current agency expires, I will sign with Pegasus Entertainment. In any resource conflict between me and Olivia, I will unconditionally yield to her. I must visit the suite on the top floor of the Pegasus Tower once a week. My hand clutching the agreement tightened inch by inch. This wasn’t an agreement; this was an insult. I tore the agreement to shreds and threw it in the doctor’s face. “Tell Chairman Pegasus, I’d rather die than submit.” The doctor scoffed: “Doing it the hard way, I see.” I had been in the psychiatric hospital for a week. Aside from the doctors on routine rounds, I hadn’t seen anyone else. Logically, if my agent Monica couldn’t find me, she would have called the police that very day. What’s more, I had so many dedicated fans and was under intense public scrutiny. How many people had Marcus Pegasus bought off? What exactly was the situation outside right now? Taking a step back, the investor for this movie was Arthur Sterling. How did Marcus Pegasus dare to make a move on me? Could it be that something happened to Arthur? Then who was the person speaking in my ear after I fell off the cliff? … The more I thought about it, the more confused I became. I frustratingly ran my hands through my hair. “System, System!” I called out in my mind. I wanted to ask this “Superstar System” if I was still on track with the main quest. I felt like if this kept up, I wouldn’t become a superstar. I’d become a super psycho. I called out to the system dozens of times, but didn’t hear a single response. Could it be that after the fall, it automatically detached from my body? I didn’t know… My head hurt so much it felt like it was going to explode. 7 Another week passed, and I finally found a way out. The window in the hospital room bathroom was a little loose. I used a chair to smash the latch open. At 2 AM, I climbed out the window in the dark. The whole building was terrifyingly quiet. Looking around, I realized I was the only one on this floor. The night was a bit cold, and the eerie wind blew straight into my hospital gown. I hunched my shoulders and ran towards the first floor with steady, light steps. I figured that once I escaped this hellhole, I would immediately borrow a passerby’s phone to post on Twitter. As long as I stirred up public opinion, Marcus Pegasus wouldn’t dare act so recklessly again. But imagination is beautiful, and reality is harsh. When I reached the first floor, I looked at the main door secured with three padlocks, and a deep sense of powerlessness washed over me. I circled the first floor again and again. When I confirmed that this was the only exit, I felt a bit desperate. I walked back the way I came, step by step, but every floor was sealed with a grid of wire mesh security grilles. Just like that, I climbed all the way to the top floor. One door on the top floor wasn’t locked. I pushed the door open and walked to the edge of the parapet under the dim light. I climbed onto the parapet and sat on it. The view from the top floor was excellent. Looking up, I could see the city lights in the distance and a sky full of stars. Looking down, I could see my bottomless, uncertain future. After trying so hard for so long, it seemed that with my own strength, I still couldn’t fight against capital. Now there were only two paths laid out before me: Either become Marcus Pegasus’s plaything and money-making tool, or jump from this 8th floor and end it all. Either way, I was not going to stay in this psychiatric hospital for the rest of my life. Actually, I already had an answer in my heart. There was only one path I could take. Just jump! Otherwise, if I’m discovered later, I won’t even be able to die if I wanted to. I placed my hands on the parapet and stood up. [DANGER ALERT!] [DANGER ALERT!] [DANGER ALERT!] [Detecting suicidal tendencies in the host. The system is about to detach from the host’s body.] Hearing the voice inside me, I smiled self-deprecatingly: “So you’re still here. Since even you can’t resolve this situation, it looks like my quest really has reached its end.” “System, next time find a host with a bit more capability!” “Don’t end up with an ending like mine.” I closed my eyes, and tears slipped from my eyelashes. “Chloe!” Just as I was about to jump from the roof, a roar pulled me back from the brink of death. This voice was exactly the same as the one I heard when I fell off the cliff. I turned towards the sound and saw a helicopter hovering above the roof. It slowly descended and landed steadily. I clearly saw the person sprinting out of the helicopter. “Arthur?” While I was still in a daze, he had already pulled me down from the parapet. “I’m sorry, I dragged you into this,” he apologized to me in a low voice. I looked up and caught a glimpse of the powerlessness in his eyes. Whether in public or private, I had never seen him look so defeated. “It’s okay.” “It’s going to be okay.” “Everything will be okay.” I comforted him with three sentences in a row. Actually, it wasn’t just to comfort him; it was also to comfort myself. Arthur carried me onto the helicopter. The helicopter took off, taking me away from this torturous place. 8 Rain pattered against the helicopter windows, and the cabin was deathly quiet. “What happened? Tell me,” I spoke first. A cynical smile leaked from the corner of Arthur’s mouth: “I was set up.” I learned from Arthur that three months ago, he was backstabbed by his best friend. Problems kept popping up in his company one after another. The night I called him, he was in a neighboring city dealing with the company’s financial issues. For the past three months, he had been flying non-stop domestically and internationally, drinking glass after glass at business dinners. Despite such difficulties, he still helped me secure Shadows. Hearing this, I was somewhat moved. I, who swore to only focus on my career and forsake love, actually felt a pang of sympathy. I thought, if I hadn’t completed the side quest concerning Arthur back then, would he not have encountered all this? Arthur said Marcus Pegasus wanted to acquire all properties under his name. He refused, so Marcus Pegasus reached his claws out to me. The issue with my wire happened because Marcus Pegasus had someone tamper with it. When he received the video of my fall sent by Marcus Pegasus, Arthur was on his way to the airport. He said thank god, thank god he arrived in time. After giving me CPR, I regained consciousness. I gently touched my lips. CPR? I had absolutely no memory of it. Arthur said that when he saw I had regained consciousness and noticed my agent Monica nearby, he left. He originally thought Marcus Pegasus’s revenge ended there. Who knew all he wanted was more than just to give Arthur a warning. He also wanted my life. It seems even Monica had been bought off by him. I also told Arthur about what happened in the psychiatric hospital over the past two weeks. When he heard about the agreement, I could see the anger practically overflowing from Arthur’s eyes. “How much longer can you hold out at the latest?” I asked, counting the days. “Right now, the cash flow is completely broken. I can hold out until the end of the year, at the absolute most.” “That’s enough,” I said, falling silent for a moment. “You must wait for me. I’ll figure something out.” Arthur kept his head down and said softly: “Chloe, with your profession, you can’t earn the capital I need.” “Trust me.” I looked at him with a firm gaze. Arthur didn’t speak. We fell into silence once again, each preoccupied with our own thoughts. A long while later, I noticed the helicopter was about to enter the airspace over New York. “Where are we going?” I asked. “My house,” Arthur replied. “No, let’s go to the White Mansion Villas.” Arthur and I exchanged a look: “That’s…” “Monica’s house,” I interjected. Arthur frowned involuntarily: “Monica has already been bought off by Marcus Pegasus. If you go to her…” “I have leverage on her,” I paused for two seconds. “I need a phone.” Arthur blinked, didn’t ask further, and handed over his own phone. “Passcode,” I asked softly. “0207.” My eyelashes fluttered slightly. February 7th, my birthday. After unlocking the phone, I logged out of his ID and logged into my own. I should be thankful that I had backed up all the evidence back then. “Can I open your photo album?” I asked for permission beforehand, afraid of invading Arthur’s privacy. Arthur’s gaze fell on my face. After a long pause, he said: “You may.” With his permission, I opened the photo album, and pictures of me came into view one by one. If these weren’t all photos taken from a third-person perspective, I would have thought my own selfies had all synced over. Unable to contain my curiosity, I clicked on a few photos. This one is… The debut night two years ago. This one is… The set of my first web drama. But at this time, I hadn’t triggered the first side quest yet. I snapped my head up and looked at Arthur. His gaze had long since shifted away from me, looking out the window. Could it be that he fell in love with me not because of the reward after I completed the quest? “Arthur, when did you start liking me?” I asked, my voice carrying a barely perceptible tremor. “Very early. A very long time ago.”

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On Tristan’s birthday, his friends started teasing me. “Hey, what does your sister look like when she has an epileptic seizure? Let us see.” Tristan raised his ice-cold eyes. “You want to see?” The crowd nodded eagerly. Tristan grabbed a bottle of liquor and poured it directly over my head. The intense stimulation instantly triggered a violent reaction. I collapsed to the floor, convulsing and foaming at the mouth. It wasn’t until I was on the verge of suffocating that Tristan finally knelt down to give me first aid. He looked at me with a twisted, playful smirk. “Still dare to say you love me?” I gasped for air, shaking my head frantically. “I don’t. Never again.” After that day, I truly stopped loving him. But he ended up completely losing his mind. 01 When I was thirteen, my mother and I moved into a massive mansion, and that was when I met the owner’s son, Tristan Vanderbilt. Tristan, just like his father, never showed any disgust toward my illness. The first time I had a seizure in front of him, even though he was visibly terrified, he obediently stood by Mr. Vanderbilt’s side and helped administer first aid. That day, the foam I coughed up ruined his favorite Persian rug. Tristan wasn’t angry at all. After I recovered, he even made me a bunch of delicious snacks. Mr. Vanderbilt said that since Tristan was five years older than me, he was my big brother and would take good care of me. He told me not to feel anxious and to treat this place like my own home. Eventually, I really did start treating this place as my home. And, without asking, I started treating Tristan as my entire world. Because of him, I was no longer terrified when kids at school bullied me. I even started to look forward to it, anticipating the moment Tristan would appear like a hero, stand up for me, and tell me not to be afraid because he would always be there. But sometimes, I felt a strange disconnect. In the hazy depths of my memory, it felt like someone else had been my hero first, though I could never remember his face. So, I just projected that blurry silhouette onto Tristan. As time went on, I realized my feelings for him were no longer pure. So, on the day I turned eighteen, I confessed my love. For the first time ever, Tristan’s perfectly sculpted brows knit together in deep disgust. With a look of pure repulsion, he snatched the cake I had spent hours baking for him and threw it straight into the swimming pool. I was paralyzed with panic. He grabbed me roughly by the chin. “Hazel, don’t ever say something like that again. It makes me sick. I have absolutely zero desire to kiss a mouth that foams.” I was terrified. Tristan had always been so gentle. His sudden, vicious hostility suffocated me. Right there by the pool, I went into a full-blown seizure. After that, I never mentioned my feelings again. I buried them deep in my heart all the way through my college graduation. Until the day my diary somehow ended up in his car, and I had to go to his birthday party to get it back… “Happy birthday,” I said as I walked in. I immediately spotted Tristan sitting in the center of the VIP lounge. He was wearing a festive birthday hat, but his expression was so freezing cold that no one dared to get too close. I didn’t dare approach him either. I quietly placed my gift in an inconspicuous corner and sat in the seat closest to the door, ready to slip out at a moment’s notice. The group sang a few songs and started playing drinking games. Taking advantage of the noisy crowd, I prepared to sneak away. But the moment I stood up, a guy dressed in a flashy, obnoxious shirt blocked my path. “Tristan, what does your sister look like when she has an epileptic seizure? Let us see.” As soon as the words left his mouth, the entire room turned their eyes toward me. My body tensed violently. I shot a panicked glance at Tristan. Tristan raised his ice-cold eyes, glaring at the guy with a hint of irritation. The guy instantly shut his mouth. But then, a delicate, feminine voice spoke up from beside Tristan. Because the lighting was so dim, I couldn’t see the woman’s face clearly. “I kinda want to see it too. You’re not going to be stingy and hide it from us, are you?” Tristan looked at me, then turned to the woman leaning against his shoulder. “You really want to see?” The woman hummed in agreement, and the rest of the sycophants in the room nodded eagerly. Getting his answer, Tristan picked up a bottle of high-proof liquor from the table and, without a second of hesitation, poured it directly over me. The overpowering scent of alcohol was a severe trigger for me. Instantly, my body went into shock. I collapsed to the floor, convulsing violently and foaming at the mouth. The crowd laughed. They pulled out their phones to record. Someone even nudged my calf with their foot. I seized uncontrollably, my body contorting into rigid, terrifying positions. It wasn’t until I was on the verge of suffocating that Tristan finally pushed the woman off his shoulder and walked over to give me first aid. His technique was practiced, but his eyes were full of a twisted, sadistic amusement. He leaned in and whispered in my ear: “Still dare to say you love me?” Gasping desperately for air, I shook my head frantically. “I don’t.” Satisfied, he stood up, walked back to his seat, and softly asked the woman who was now pretending to tremble in fear: “Did that scare you?” His voice was sickeningly doting. He tenderly wiped a fake tear from the woman’s cheek. She nodded, playing the victim perfectly. “It was so scary. I’m going to have nightmares tonight.” Tristan gently tapped her nose. “Little ghost. If you want me to stay with you tonight, just say so.” I froze on the floor. He used to tell me that “little ghost” was a nickname reserved exclusively for me. I looked at him with bloodshot, tear-filled eyes. Tristan met my gaze, and then deliberately leaned down and kissed the smug smile right off the woman’s lips. The room erupted in cheers, chanting, “Kiss her again!” The woman smiled shyly and nestled deep into Tristan’s chest. “Stop looking at me. You guys should keep watching Hazel. Her pathetic, humiliating state is way more entertaining.” Tristan pinched her cheek affectionately, calling her a clever girl. Then, he shot a look of pure apathy at me, still trembling by the door. “Let it go,” he said casually. “If we play with her anymore, she might actually die.” He picked up the bottle of liquor and poured the woman half a glass. She was visibly annoyed that he stopped the “game.” Taking advantage of Tristan coaxing her, I fled from that suffocating room. The moment I stepped outside, my tears finally broke through the dam. Tristan knew better than anyone how terrifying and helpless it felt when I had a seizure, yet he still used me as a cheap party trick to amuse his friends. He had made his point. I wouldn’t dare. I truly didn’t dare to love him anymore. Let this pathetic, one-sided devotion end completely today. 02 At eleven o’clock that night, he knocked on my bedroom door. “Come out.” I leaned against the doorframe and asked, “What do you want?” I heard the distinct rattle of pills in a plastic bottle from the other side of the door. “Take your medicine.” He was certainly doing his duty. Ever since I graduated college, Mr. Vanderbilt handed his company over to Tristan and, by extension, handed me over to him as well. Then, he took my mother and moved to Europe for their retirement. Tristan obediently took care of my every need. He was no longer the gentle older brother he used to be, but at least he had never made me suffer any real grievances. Until today’s incident. I opened the door just a crack and reached my hand out to take the pill organizer. But with a sudden burst of force, he shoved the door wide open. Tristan jammed his foot in the doorway, casually opened the pill organizer, and handed me the medication and a glass of water. He looked completely indifferent, as if the horrific humiliation I suffered just hours ago had never happened. I didn’t say a word. I swallowed the pills, drank the water, and prepared to shut the door. He didn’t move out of the way. Instead, he asked flatly: “Don’t you want a piece of candy to wash down the bitter taste?” Normally, that was exactly what I needed. But not anymore. Compared to the pills, my heart was infinitely more bitter. “No need.” I forcefully yanked the door shut. Walking back into my room, the voice call I had minimized earlier was still active. The sound of someone typing on a keyboard drifted from my phone speaker. I walked over to the desk, feeling incredibly apologetic. “I’m sorry, Dr. Hayes. You had to hear all that.” A soft “Mhm” came from the other end. He said one last thing before hanging up: “Let’s stop here for today. Go get some sleep. When you wake up, it will be a new day.” He was always like this. His words always had a way of bringing me a profound sense of comfort, making me feel like my condition was just a minor cold that wouldn’t ruin my life. His name was Dr. Asher Hayes. He was the neurologist my mother had hired to treat my epilepsy. Every time I had a seizure, I would talk to him afterward about my physical state and emotional triggers. Asher meticulously adjusted my treatment plan based on those conversations. Under his guidance, my condition had improved dramatically. I locked my phone and crawled into bed. But the moment I closed my eyes, I heard the click of the door lock turning. Followed by the squeak of the hinges. The door opened. Tristan was standing next to my bed, holding the purse I had left behind at the club. His face was dark with fury. “Who was the man you were just talking to?” I was startled by his aggressive expression. He pressed further. “Why is he calling you this late at night?” He reached out and flicked on the bedroom light. Still wearing his suit from the party, he stalked over to my bedside. I deliberately looked away from him, letting my gaze fall on the painting hanging on the wall. “His name is Asher Hayes. He’s my neurologist. Every time I have a seizure, I talk to him about the specific details.” Tristan grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. “So, after you left the club, you’ve been on the phone with him for three hours straight?” I gave a short “Mhm.” Tristan let out a dark, mocking chuckle. “Do you have a crush on him?” I couldn’t comprehend his twisted logic. I pulled the blanket up to cover my face, my voice muffled and cold. “You’re overthinking it, brother.” I don’t know what it was about that sentence that set him off, but he violently ripped the blanket off my head. His eyes were bloodshot as he slammed his fist into the mattress right next to my ear. “I forbid it.” I let out a cold scoff, treating his jealousy-laced demand like absolute garbage. “Based on what? You don’t love me, yet you want to hoard me like property. What kind of sick control freak behavior is that? Do I need to spell it out for you?” My tone must have been too fiercely indignant. He froze for a second, then seamlessly reverted to his usual, detached demeanor. “Go to sleep.” 03 I really did want to go to sleep. But the noises coming from him and that woman in the room next door made it impossible. When I finally dragged myself out of bed in the morning, I saw her wearing Tristan’s dress shirt. With her top buttons suggestively undone, she was busy in the kitchen, frying eggs and pouring milk. Seeing me come downstairs, she paused. Then, she covered her mouth and giggled, flashing a coquettish smile at Tristan, who was sitting at the dining table drinking coffee. “Pfft, sorry. Seeing your sister just reminded me of her lying on the floor twitching last night. It was pretty hilarious.” Tristan glanced up at me, didn’t say a word, and went back to looking at his iPad, discussing business through his earpiece. I felt incredibly awkward. The emotional distance I had carefully built up was completely shattered by her mockery. She, on the other hand, was entirely unabashed. She strutted over to me and handed me a glass of milk. “Let’s formally introduce ourselves. I’m Sloane. Sloane Sterling. I’m Tristan’s girlfriend. From now on, I’ll be living here to help Tristan take care of you.” Her tone was arrogant, and she gritted her teeth aggressively on the words “take care.” It felt like she was moving in specifically to monitor me, to ensure I didn’t harbor any lingering delusions about Tristan. I didn’t have the patience to be polite. I took the glass of milk and threw it directly into her face. Sloane shrieked, jumping back and frantically wiping the milk off her face. “I don’t need your care. I’ll move out.” With that, I turned around and went back to my room to pack my things. This place was suffocating. I decided to move back into the old, rundown apartment my mom owned before she married Mr. Vanderbilt. Even though it was far from the city center, at least I wouldn’t feel like I was suffocating every second of the day. Out of sight, out of mind. I packed a large suitcase to the brim and dragged it downstairs. At the front door, Tristan and Sloane were standing there, blocking my path. It looked like they were waiting for me. Tristan hooked his finger, motioning for me to come closer. “Come here. Apologize to Sloane.” Sloane leaned against Tristan, looking like the ultimate victim. I suddenly understood that old saying. A man’s idealized ‘first love’ is an illusion; the reality never measures up. How did the quiet, determined boy who protected me turn into someone so dark and disgusting? I walked up to them and let go of my suitcase handle. “I can apologize.” The moment I said that, the smug, triumphant look returned to Sloane’s face. “But regarding what happened last night,” I continued, “who is going to apologize to me?” Tristan’s brow furrowed deeply. Sloane quickly interjected. “Everyone was just drinking and having fun yesterday. Besides, it was your brother’s birthday. What’s wrong with providing a little entertainment for the guests?” Tristan avoided my gaze. I fired back without hesitation. “In that case, on my birthday, how about you perform a striptease to provide a little entertainment?” SMACK! Before the words even settled, Tristan slapped me hard across the face. “You’ve crossed the line.” A persistent ringing echoed in my ears. Tristan’s expression slowly morphed into one of panicked regret. I clutched my stinging cheek and stared at him with unwavering resolve. “This slap repays you for taking care of me all these years. From now on, I owe you absolutely nothing. And I will never harbor any pathetic, inappropriate feelings for you ever again.” Tristan grabbed my wrist. “Little ghost, I’m sorry.” I let out a cold scoff. “Are you sorry for humiliating me last night, or are you sorry for the slap today?” 04 As soon as I arrived at my old apartment, I got a call from my mom. “Hazel, why did you move out? Did you and Tristan have a fight?” Her tone was incredibly cautious. Half of her was worried about my well-being, but the other half was terrified of ruining her image in front of Mr. Vanderbilt. Ever since we moved into the Vanderbilt mansion, my mom had constantly lectured me. She told me we were guests living under someone else’s roof. We had to be extremely careful and absolutely never cause trouble for Mr. Vanderbilt or his son. I knew my mom loved Mr. Vanderbilt deeply. But because of her humble background and my medical condition, she always felt intensely inferior in his presence. Even though Mr. Vanderbilt never cared about any of that, human nature is complicated. The deeper you love, the more insecure you become. I told her, “He brought his girlfriend home to live with him. It’s not convenient for me to be there, so I moved back to our old place. Don’t worry, I’m perfectly fine.” My mom let out a relieved “Mhm.” “You’re right. We shouldn’t interrupt his personal life.” “But you living alone… it’s not safe.” “Here’s what we’ll do. Go find Mrs. Hayes. You can stay with her for a while. Once I have time, I’ll fly back, sell the old apartment, add my savings to it, and buy you a new place.” “Mrs. Hayes’s son, Asher, is also living there. That way, if anything happens, he can look after you.” I wanted to argue, but she hurriedly hung up the phone. A moment later, she texted me Mrs. Hayes’s address. I didn’t want my mom to worry, nor did I want to be a burden to her. For so many years, she had taken care of me all by herself. It was exhausting. Now that my health was stable and she finally had a life of her own, I couldn’t drag her down again. I grabbed the handle of the suitcase I had just unpacked and walked right back out the door. Mrs. Hayes lived in the city center, very close to the main hospital. Probably so Asher could commute to work easily. But it was very far from where I was now, and getting an Uber in this run-down neighborhood was nearly impossible. I waited for ten minutes, and not a single driver accepted my ride. Just as I was starting to panic. A message from Asher popped up on my phone. “Where are you? I’m coming to pick you up and bring you home.” I opened the message, and another one followed immediately. “Have you eaten breakfast yet?” Asher and I almost exclusively communicated online. In person, he mostly talked to my mom. Honestly, I felt a bit awkward agreeing to move into his house. But he always seemed to know exactly how to ease my anxiety, acting as the perfect calming presence. I texted him back. “Not yet. I’m at the corner of 6th and Elm.” He typed fast. It felt like he replied before I even hit send. “Go to Mrs. Davis’s diner at the end of the alley and grab some oatmeal. I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.” I always followed my doctor’s orders. If I didn’t, my condition wouldn’t be as well-managed as it was. So, I dragged my suitcase to the diner and ordered a bowl of oatmeal. Asher arrived. He wasn’t rushed or panicked. He scanned the small dining area, locked eyes with me, and walked over. “Did you not sleep well last night?” His question caught me off guard. My mind instantly flashed back to the sounds I had been forced to listen to all night. I felt a rush of embarrassment and anger. I didn’t know how to respond. Then he spoke again. “Make sure you get plenty of rest from now on.” “Are you done eating? I’ll take you home to meet my mom.” I nodded. But to my surprise, his face suddenly turned bright red. “Dr. Hayes, why is your face so red? Do you have a fever?” “N-no. I don’t.” He stood up, grabbed the handle of my suitcase, and started walking toward his car. It was only then I realized that his phrase, “Take you home to meet my mom,” carried a slightly different, more intimate connotation. I never expected a guy pushing thirty to be so easily embarrassed. 05 I had only been living at Asher’s house for a week when Tristan tracked me down. Mrs. Hayes was staying at her best friend’s house, and Asher was working a night shift. I had just put down my GRE prep books. The doorbell rang. When I opened the door, before I could even speak, Tristan grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the elevator. He was much stronger than me. Struggling would only end up hurting myself. So I just let him drag me. “You’re coming home with me.” I replied lazily. “No thanks. I need to study, and you need to build a relationship with your future wife. Me living there would just be awkward for everyone.” Tristan smirked. “You’re jealous.” I kept my lazy, detached tone. “I’m not. You’re overthinking it. I already told you I won’t have feelings for you anymore, so jealousy doesn’t exist for me. But if you drag me back there, your future wife might actually get jealous.” “And with my condition, I definitely can’t handle providing any more ‘entertainment’ for you guys. Be a decent human being and let me live. When you’re old and grey, I’ll attend your funeral.” Tristan’s grip on my wrist tightened painfully. “Why are you being so sarcastic? Didn’t I explain it to you? Sloane is the heiress of the Sterling Corporation. My company needs a massive contract from them. My relationship with her is purely business.” He had indeed sent me a text. Exactly one sentence. He said: I don’t actually like her. I’m doing this for the good of the company. Just endure it for a while. Hah. I laughed out loud when I read it. I did endure it. And it cost me half my life. Then I took a screenshot of his message and sent it directly to Sloane, hoping it would help her see what kind of garbage she was dating. I leaned against the elevator wall and yawned. “Brother, you don’t need to explain anything to me. We’re just siblings.” “You don’t like me, and I don’t like you. I know you’re only rushing to drag me back because of your deep, brotherly concern.” That finally pushed Tristan over the edge. If this were the past, I would have been desperately clinging to him, my heart racing with joy just at the thought of him caring whether I was jealous or not. But now, all I wanted to say was: If you don’t love me, get the hell away from me. … When the elevator doors opened, Tristan dragged me out and practically threw me into the passenger seat of his car. He drove fast. I barely had time to close my eyes before we arrived at his mansion. Sloane was waiting for us, her face twisted into a furious scowl. I don’t hold grudges, so I smiled and greeted her. “Good evening, sister-in-law. My brother and I have such a deep sibling bond, I’m just coming back to stay for one night.” “Don’t worry, I’ll get the hell out at the crack of dawn. To be honest, Dr. Hayes makes much better oatmeal than you make milk.” Before Sloane could snap back, Tristan grabbed my arm and dragged me upstairs to his study. He looked down at me from his towering height. His tone was incredibly impatient. “Hazel, be a good girl and stay here. I’ll figure out a way to explain this to Sloane.” I couldn’t take it anymore. “Tristan, what is actually wrong with you?” Hearing my words, his eyes went wide. “Are you cursing at me?” I rolled my eyes. I just wanted to say the one phrase that thoroughly disgusted both me and him. “You string me along while you’re hooking up with someone else. You want the best of both worlds. What kind of psychological disorder is that?” Tristan’s face went black. He paced the room, aggressively rubbing his jaw, his brow furrowed deeply. Then, his eyes landed on a half-empty bottle of liquor sitting on his bookshelf. He walked over, grabbed it, and slammed it down on the desk in front of me. The threat was unmistakable. “Are you going to stay, or not?” I stared directly into his eyes, looking completely fearless. But only I knew the truth. Just the smell of the alcohol triggered a violent physiological response. Before the bottle even touched me, my muscles started to twitch. “This again. So, what is it for this time?” “To force me to obey you? To make me act like a good little pet and stay by your side?” “Using my medical condition as a weapon to control me. You really are a wonderful brother.” As soon as the words left my mouth, my head began to uncontrollably jerk toward my left shoulder. Seeing that my symptoms were severe, Tristan made no move to help me. He just stood there, making sarcastic remarks. “You never used to talk to me like this. Have you really fallen for that doctor?” My eyes rolled back. I frantically reached for a pen on the desk, intending to bite down on it to prevent myself from biting my tongue when I completely lost consciousness. But things rarely go as planned. Tristan callously swiped the entire pen holder onto the floor. I glared at him with icy eyes. “What do you think?” “Asher is here to save my life. But you… you’re here to kill me.” With a dull thud, I collapsed onto the floor. My eyes rolled back as the convulsions took over. Then, the study door was suddenly shoved open. Sloane stormed in, looking furious. But when she saw the scene on the floor, she froze in horror. She frantically pulled out her phone to dial 911, simultaneously shoving Tristan. “Tristan, what the f*ck are you doing?! Save her!” My eyelids were fluttering at a high frequency, so I couldn’t see Tristan’s expression. It wasn’t until I started foaming at the mouth and my tongue lolled out… That I finally felt someone supporting my head. I survived another day. 06 When I regained consciousness, the first thing I saw was Tristan. He was sitting by the bed, trying to feed me medication. Seeing my eyes open, his tone was arrogant and triumphant. “I saved your life again. You can’t survive without me. Just stay by my side and be a good girl. You’re not going anywhere.” “Stop saying those cruel things just to make me angry. I know you still can’t let me go. Just be obedient. I’ll treat you well.” I rolled over, turning my back to him, thoroughly disgusted. Tristan wanted to say more, but Sloane knocked on the door and called him out into the hall. When I was finally alone in the room, my tears flowed uncontrollably. It was happening again. He was treating me like a pathetic toy to be humiliated and manipulated. As I was crying, my phone rang. It was my mom. “Mom.” I tried my hardest to keep my voice steady. It wasn’t the first time, anyway. She never noticed when I was crying. “Hazel, how is it living at Mrs. Hayes’s house? Are you getting used to it?” I wiped away the tear stains at the corners of my eyes and launched into a long, upbeat ramble. “Mrs. Hayes’s house is incredibly comfortable! She treats me so well, and her cooking is amazing. She even gives me plenty of alone time to study. I’m completely used to it. You don’t need to worry about me. How are things in Europe? Are you and Mr. Vanderbilt doing okay? Are you guys planning on giving me a little brother?” My mom let out a girlish laugh. “You silly girl, what kind of nonsense are you talking about?” Then, my mom brought up Asher. “By the way, what about Asher? How are you two getting along? I watched Asher grow up. He has a great personality, he’s reliable and mature. He is a bit older than you, but he looks very young. You’d never guess he’s almost thirty. What do you think of him?” “What do I think?” My mom hummed in agreement. “Yeah, what do you think of Asher?” I finally understood what she was doing. She wanted me to get closer to Asher. “Mom, Dr. Hayes is a wonderful person, but I’m not good enough for him. I don’t want to be a burden.” “Please don’t mention this again, okay? I don’t want Mrs. Hayes to think I’m living in her house with ulterior motives and stop making me delicious food.” My mom gave a disappointed “Mhm.” After a few seconds of silence, she asked cautiously: “Hazel, what about you? Are you happy lately? Do you want to talk to Mom for a bit? Mr. Vanderbilt went fishing with his friends, so Mom has plenty of free time.” The emotional wall I had carefully rebuilt instantly shattered. I covered the phone receiver and let out a quiet sob. Once I composed myself, I finally spoke. “I’m doing great! I’m just a bit stressed about my grad school applications. I’ll be fine after I watch a few episodes of my favorite show.” There was another pause on my mom’s end of the line. Then she said: “Okay. If you want to take the exam, then take it. If you don’t get in, just come home. Since Mom could raise you for the first half of your life, she can definitely support you for the second half.” “Alright, you go rest. I’m going to prep some food for Mr. Vanderbilt.” After she hung up, Sloane walked into the room. She didn’t say a word. She just walked over and ripped the blanket off me. I panicked, crossing my arms over my chest. “What the hell is your problem now?!” Sloane frowned, then looked incredibly embarrassed as she said: “I’m sorry, Hazel. I just realized how utterly pathetic I’ve been. Scheming against you, intentionally triggering your medical condition… all just to fight over a piece of trash.” “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have seen what a monster Tristan truly is. Thank you for the wake-up call.” “I formally apologize for everything I’ve done to you. And I swear, I will never, ever use someone’s medical condition as a joke again.” “From now on, I, Sloane Sterling, will protect you. If you ever need anything, just say the word.” I looked at her in sheer bewilderment. “Is this a new manipulation tactic?” She gave an awkward laugh. “No, it’s the truth.” “When I think about the fact that I, the heiress of the Sterling Corporation, pretended to be a manipulative ‘pick-me’ girl and bullied an innocent person just to chase a toxic loser… I feel completely devoid of humanity.” Sloane actually looked incredibly sincere. I believed her. Good for her. She snapped out of it fast. I asked her: “If you’re apologizing, why did you rip my blanket off?” Sloane sighed. “To take you out of here, obviously.” “You don’t actually want to keep living in this hellhole, do you?”

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My parents bought a condo near my college for me and my younger brother. Just because I brought my best friend over to crash for one night, my brother’s girlfriend threw a massive fit on the spot: “You’re already freeloading off your brother every day, and now you have the nerve to bring your friends here too? Do you have no shame?” I turned right around and threw her luggage out the front door: “Listen to me, little girl. From now on, if you ever step one foot inside this house again, I will make you regret it.” 1 My twin brother, Liam, and I got into the same university. It wasn’t far from home—just an hour away by train. The campus was right by the beach. My parents didn’t hesitate to buy a spacious three-bedroom condo nearby, making it convenient for Liam and me to live off-campus if we wanted. They figured whenever they missed us, they could drive down and stay for a bit too. Even though the dorms weren’t great, I was a total extrovert. I got along perfectly with my three roommates, so I chose to live on campus most of the time. I only occasionally went to the condo to spend the night. Today, after eating lunch in the dining hall, I suddenly got the urge to check on the condo. After all, the semester was more than half over, and I hadn’t been back once. The condo my parents bought was very close to campus—just a fifteen-minute walk. Standing in front of the door, I expertly punched in the passcode Liam and I had set together. To my surprise, after trying twice, the lock kept flashing “Incorrect Passcode.” Confused, I called Liam. When he answered, he sounded noticeably tense: “Haven’t you been living in the dorms the whole time? Why did you suddenly decide to go to the condo today?” My tone sharpened a bit: “What, am I not allowed to go to my own place? Why did you change the passcode on the smart lock?” “Chloe, don’t get mad. We’re waiting for the elevator right now, we’ll be right up. I’ll explain when I get there.” It wasn’t until Liam came rushing over that I understood who “we” was. Standing next to him was a girl with flawless, full-glam makeup. She was pretty enough, but her expression was totally blank. Even when she saw me, she kept a sour look on her face, as if my appearance was incredibly annoying to her. Liam hurried over, looking a bit embarrassed as he introduced her: “Chloe, this is Mia, my new girlfriend. She’s been living here with me recently.” Wow. My own brother got a girlfriend, and they even moved in together, and I, going to the exact same school, had absolutely no idea? “Mia, this is my sister, Chloe. We go to the same school.” Mia finally glanced at me, greeting me with a lukewarm: “Hey.” 2 It turned out the passcode had been changed—to Mia’s birthday. The reason? Mia complained that the passcode Liam and I originally set was too complicated and she couldn’t remember it. I was honestly speechless. Why on earth should the passcode to my house be changed just because she couldn’t remember it? But figuring this was our first time meeting, I didn’t show too much emotion. It wasn’t until I walked inside that I realized changing the passcode wasn’t even the craziest part. The craziest part was—my brother actually swapped my room with his. When my parents bought this three-bedroom place, my dad explicitly stated that the master bedroom with the en-suite bathroom was for me, since I was a girl and it would be more convenient. But now, what was supposed to be my room was piled high with a stranger’s clothes. I scanned the room, then walked into the en-suite bathroom. Seeing the state of it, I almost laughed out of pure anger. The expensive skincare products I had left here were all completely empty. You didn’t even have to guess to know who used them. Changed my passcode, took my bedroom, used my skincare. Wasn’t this girl crossing a line? Noticing my displeasure, Liam immediately switched to suck-up mode, sidling over: “Chloe, I’m so sorry. Mia and I have been staying in your room lately. But you’ve barely stayed here a few times this whole semester, and I thought it was a waste to leave such a big room empty.” Liam kept apologizing with a forced smile, while Mia sat in the living room eating fruit, acting as if no one else was there. She didn’t show the slightest intention of apologizing for taking over my room and using my things. Seeing this, I looked at Mia with a fake smile: “Could you please let me know when you finish someone else’s skincare products in the future? Otherwise, what am I supposed to use tonight?” Hearing this, Mia finally lifted her eyelids. Her tone was dripping with passive-aggression: “Sorry about that, Chloe. If you really care that much about those little sample sizes, I’ll just have Liam buy you new ones.” 3 I was absolutely mind-blown. When I vented to my three roommates about it, they all urged me to move back into the condo for a while. “Who lives in someone else’s house and changes the passcode to their own birthday?” “Taking your room, using your stuff… fine, she used it. But to be so unapologetic about it? That’s insane. She really thinks that condo belongs to her, doesn’t she?” “Chloe, if you don’t go back and live there for a bit, that girl is probably going to assume that place belongs to her and your brother, and that it has nothing to do with you.” After hearing that, I immediately packed my suitcase and moved to the off-campus condo that very night. It was only after I moved back that I discovered Liam had somehow picked up a part-time job. To be honest, the allowance our parents gave us wasn’t massive, but it was still a solid $1,500 a month each. That was plenty for me, a girl who needed to buy skincare and makeup. Liam didn’t smoke or drink, so why on earth did he need a part-time job to make money? I planned to ask Liam what was going on that night. At 11:30 PM, my brother finally got home, carrying a container of fresh strawberries. “Chloe, you’re not asleep yet?” He looked surprised, then smiled. “The strawberries at the convenience store where I work were on sale. I know you love them, so I brought some back for you.” I let out a soft hmph. Maybe it was because I had bossed him around since we were kids, but Liam had developed a really good temper and knew how to take care of people. I ate the strawberries he washed for me and asked: “Are you really that strapped for cash? Why are you working a part-time job?” “I have no choice,” Liam said, leaning tiredly against the sofa. “The new iPhone 15 just came out, right? Mia’s been begging me to upgrade her phone. She’s my girlfriend; of course, I want to give her what she wants.” “…” To that, I could only express my “respect” and wish him luck. I never expected that during class the next day, I would suddenly receive a text message from Mia: [Usually, older sisters spend money on their younger brothers, but not you. Strawberries are expensive, and you actually have the nerve to eat the ones your brother bought you? Liam works hard for his money. If you really cared about him, you wouldn’t let him buy things for you anymore. Thanks.] 4 I actually laughed out of anger. My own brother bought me some strawberries, and this not-even-engaged girlfriend thinks she has the right to dictate things? Knowing that Mia and I didn’t get along, my brother was caught in the middle and in a tough spot. I could tell Liam really liked this girl; he catered to her every whim. So, I tolerated what I could. But the real explosion between Mia and me happened because I brought my roommates home to crash for a night. It was my roommate Sarah’s birthday. The four of us went out to a club to celebrate. By the time we headed back, it was past midnight, and the dorms were locked. I suggested we crash at my condo. Sarah looked worried and said: “Is that a good idea? Won’t your brother’s girlfriend get mad?” I knew my friend was just looking out for me, but that sentence triggered me. My parents bought this condo for us. Why should I have to walk on eggshells around my brother’s girlfriend? At my strong insistence, my three roommates followed me home. Even though everyone had been drinking, my friends were considerate. Knowing it was late and Liam and Mia were asleep, they tried to be as quiet as possible. We slept peacefully through the night. The next morning, the moment I walked out of my bedroom, I saw Mia stomping toward me, looking furious and ready to interrogate me: “Chloe, what is your problem? It’s bad enough you freeload off us every day, but now you’re bringing your whole crew of friends to spend the night? Do you have no sense of boundaries?” Perfect. My friends were still right there, and she just aggressively threw that in my face. If I tolerated this, I’d change my last name! I didn’t say a word. I turned around, marched into her bedroom, grabbed her suitcase, and rapidly shoved all her clothes inside. Then I opened the front door and forcefully threw it outside! The suitcase wasn’t zipped properly, and her clothes scattered all over the floor. “Have I been too nice to you these past few days?” I pointed at the door, speaking calmly, “Get out. You are no longer welcome in our home.” Mia clearly hadn’t expected me to actually do this. She froze for a second, then sneered mockingly: “Who do you think you are? Let me tell you, Chloe, your brother is the only son in the Thorne family. Everything in this house belongs to him. Once you get married, you’re an outsider. What right do you have to tell me to get out?” 5 I was absolutely dumbfounded by Mia’s words. It was hard to imagine that this garbage was coming out of the mouth of a woman my own age. She hadn’t even married into the family yet, and she was already calculating that everything my family owned belonged to her and my brother? I laughed: “Listen to me, little girl. From now on, if you ever step one foot inside my house again, I will make you regret it. And if you actually manage to marry into our family, I’ll admit defeat.” I could tell Mia was furious. I glanced at her: “Still not leaving? Are you waiting for me to call security?” “I’m leaving.” Mia gritted her teeth. “I’ll wait for your brother to beg me to come back. Chloe, just you wait.” SLAM. I forcefully shut the door. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I opened our family group chat and recounted exactly what had just happened, sending it directly to the group. This was a small group chat with just the four of us: my parents, Liam, and me. We chatted in it often; Liam and I popped in almost every day. As soon as the message was sent, my mom immediately jumped in: [Liam has a girlfriend? Since when? I’ve never heard that brat mention it.] My dad zeroed in on the main issue: [They’re living together? Is he ready to take responsibility for that girl, moving in together like that! [If he wants a girlfriend, your mom and I won’t stop him. But look at what she said! How are you an outsider? To me, she’s the complete stranger who has absolutely nothing to do with this family!] My dad went even harder, issuing an ultimatum: [Listen to me, boy. We won’t stop you from dating, but take a good look at what kind of person you’re with. If you still want to be with her, I won’t stop you, but you’re packing up and moving out today. From today on, this condo belongs solely to your sister. Figure it out yourself!] 6 The group chat was filled with my parents venting their anger. My brother never showed up, and I couldn’t reach him when I called. It was already past midnight. Normally, Liam would be back from his shift by now, but today he was nowhere to be found. It was fall, the rainy season. Outside, lightning flashed and thunder roared. It had been raining heavily all day. A chill breeze blew in from an open window, making me shiver. I felt a twinge of regret. Should I have handled this privately with Liam? Was it a bad idea to drag our parents into it? Just as I was thinking this, the sound of the passcode being entered came from the smart lock. I turned and saw Liam. He was soaking wet because he didn’t have an umbrella. I grabbed some paper towels and walked over: “Where have you been all day? You weren’t answering your phone either.” Liam didn’t speak, but I guessed he had seen the messages in the group chat. Our parents had been scolding him all afternoon; he definitely wasn’t feeling great. I dried his hair with the towels, trying to figure out how to comfort him. To my surprise, Liam turned his head away. When he looked at me, his eyes were full of resentment: “Chloe, did you really have to do that to Mia?” I froze. Liam continued: “Even if you didn’t want her living here, did you really have to pick a day with this kind of weather to kick her out?” Honestly, I never expected that my brother, whom I’d rarely fought with since we were kids, would one day argue with me over a girlfriend. In that moment, I was so angry I laughed: “Are you blind to the things she said to me? Can’t you see it? It’s clearly her fault for overstepping, and now you’re blaming me? This is my house. Do I need to pick a specific date to kick a stranger out?” “This is your house, but isn’t it my house too? Do I not have the right to use it?” Liam’s voice rose, getting agitated. “I know you look down on Mia and judge her because she comes from a rural family. But our family isn’t exactly billionaires either, right? What’s there to be so arrogant about? Did you have to humiliate her like that? Do you know she had a fever and cried all day? Her family doesn’t have as much money as ours, but she’s still her parents’ precious daughter. When has she ever suffered like this!” With that, Liam bumped past me: “I just came back to grab some essentials. Mia is waiting for me at a hotel.” 7 When did I ever look down on Mia or judge her for being from a rural family? I did know about her family background, but my objection to them being together had nothing to do with that! It was Mia who acted entitled, assuming everything in this family would belong to her and my brother. She occupied the condo my parents bought for both of us, yet scolded me for lacking boundaries. Her character was the problem! After that argument, Liam and I didn’t speak for two days, and he didn’t come back to the condo to sleep. A few days later, while eating alone in the dining hall, I unexpectedly ran into Liam and Mia. As soon as she saw me approaching, Mia immediately looked away—I don’t know if she did it on purpose—and turned to whine to Liam, asking to eat the ribs from his plate. Liam, on the other hand, looked guilty when he saw me. He quickly stood up, his tone trying to appease me: “Chloe, what do you want to eat? I’ll go buy it for you.” I didn’t say anything. Liam persisted, acting shameless: “Chloe, don’t ignore me. I was wrong for what I said before. Tell me what you want to eat, and I’ll buy it for you. Anything you want, consider it an apology, okay?” I still didn’t say a word. Just then, my phone rang. It was my dad. I turned and walked a few steps away to answer it. As soon as I picked up, I heard Mia’s displeased voice faintly drift over: “Why are you buying her food? Does she not have her own money? She’s always spending yours.” “How much could one lunch cost? The pair of sneakers my sister bought me for my birthday cost more than a month’s worth of meals, okay?” As he said this, Liam was already pulling out his meal card. “You’re not allowed to go.” Mia seemed determined to argue with him, pulling Liam back. “This isn’t about money. Does she not have hands or feet? Why is she ordering you around? And what was that coaxing tone you used just now? Seriously, you’re both adults, that tone is so inappropriate. Shouldn’t she keep her distance?” “Babe, can we please stop arguing? What’s inappropriate about me buying my own sister lunch?” The dining hall was pretty loud; I could only catch snippets of their conversation. Within a few sentences, Mia turned and stormed off in a huff. “Mia—” Liam hurriedly stood up and said to me in a panic, “Chloe, Mia hasn’t fully recovered yet, I need to take her to get an IV drip. I can’t buy your food today. Use my card, get whatever you want.” Saying that, he shoved his meal card into my hand and chased after Mia’s retreating figure. 8 It was evident that Mia had some serious manipulation skills, or maybe it was because this was Liam’s first real relationship and he was incredibly lovesick. Either way, he was completely under her thumb. After I kicked Mia out, Liam followed right behind her. They rented an apartment together in a complex near campus. I don’t know if Mia did it to spite me, but they rented a place in the exact same building as our condo. Occasionally, I’d even run into Mia in the elevator. Mia seemed very satisfied with her achievement of successfully convincing my brother to move out with her. She smiled and said to me: “Maya, how does it feel knowing your own brother doesn’t even side with you? Liam would rather move out of that condo for me. Must feel pretty awful going home to an empty place, right? Oh, by the way, Liam paid for our new apartment all by himself. He even sold the shoes you gave him to make rent. You’re not mad, are you, sister?” Awful? I felt fantastic. “The only thing awful is that I didn’t kick you two out sooner. You have no idea the joy of living alone.” Mia’s expression changed: “You’re truly shameless. That condo was clearly bought for your brother by your dad. Stop pretending your family doesn’t favor sons over daughters. I’ve never seen a family that doesn’t. You’re just riding his coattails. I was the one who let you live there. Did you really think you could live there in peace?” Wow. She was calling my family’s condo “letting me live there.” Did she really think she was being understanding and generous?

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My dad’s secret son, hidden for eight years, was finally discovered by my mom. My mom swore she would cut all ties with him, even if it meant walking away from the marriage with absolutely nothing. This time, I stopped her. Because I was reborn. My dad was diagnosed with a terminal illness and was dying. As long as we outlived him, every single cent to his name would belong to me and my mom. 1 “Riley, if Mommy and Daddy split up, do you want to come with Mommy?” When my mom asked me this question again, I didn’t hesitate for a single second. I looked her dead in the eye and said, “Mom, don’t get a divorce.” Her eyes grew red with unshed tears. “Did you know your father has a child out there who is only six months younger than you? How am I supposed to swallow this? If we divorce, at least I won’t have to look at him and feel sick. Come with me, okay? You’re all I have left.” “No, Mom!” “Why?” she asked, her voice trembling. Because I lived this life once already. In my past life, when they divorced, my mom fought desperately for my custody. To get me, she agreed to walk away with nothing. The houses, the cash, the company they built from the ground up—all of it fell into the hands of that mistress and her son. Just two months after the divorce was finalized, my dad died of late-stage stomach cancer. The only reason he let my mom find out about the mistress was because he knew he was dying. He wanted to pave the way for his illegitimate son, but he couldn’t bear the thought of my mom taking half his wealth in a standard divorce. So he held my custody hostage. My mom, wanting to protect me, sacrificed the empire she spent years building. The day after the divorce papers were signed, he married the mistress. When he died, that woman and her son legally inherited everything. And then, they hunted my mom and me down. Whatever business my mom tried to start, whatever job she got, they ruined it. Even when she tried to sell trinkets on the street, they hired local thugs to trash her stall. To keep me fed, my mom was forced to work at seedy nightclubs, eventually spiraling into the darkest corners of the sex trade. The mistress tormented her for ten years. Finally, on my eighteenth birthday, my mom jumped from the roof of a 21-story building. After she died, the mistress still wouldn’t let me go. She paid kids at my high school to violently bully me. She twisted the truth, telling everyone I was the illegitimate child and that my mother was the homewrecker who ruined her life. I was an orphan with nowhere to turn. One blurry, disorienting night, I was struck and killed by a speeding semi-truck. And the capital that mistress used to destroy us? It was the exact wealth she inherited from my father. In this lifetime, I will protect my mother. I will never let that cheating scumbag win. 2 “Mom, do you believe in prophetic dreams?” I recounted every single horrific event from my past life to her, detail by detail. She muttered to herself in shock, “I would never degrade myself to do that kind of work… and I would never abandon you by taking my own life.” I knew that. But when you are pushed to the absolute brink of starvation and despair, who can guarantee they won’t grab the only lifeline available, even if it’s covered in filth? Because of my dad’s betrayal, my mom had been heartbroken and stopped managing their company. My dad was using this exact window of time to pretend he wanted her back, making her think he still loved her. Meanwhile, behind her back, he was rapidly consolidating power, aiming to take full control of the corporation. My mom was skeptical of my “dream,” but her love for me ran deep in her bones. Even if it was just a nightmare, she was going to verify it. She went back to the office. That night, when she and my dad came home together, his jaw was clenched. He looked furious. I trotted up to him. “Dad, are you a dirty trash bag?” He choked, his chest heaving as he gasped for air in pure outrage. “People on the internet say men who cheat are just dirty trash bags, and nobody should want them.” My mom immediately slapped a hand over my mouth. “Stay off the internet. Don’t repeat that garbage you read.” I nodded innocently. She let go, and I asked, “Are you and Dad still getting a divorce?” My mom smiled sweetly. “Of course not. I’ve already forgiven your dad. We’re going to live happily as a family of three.” My dad’s face turned a spectacular shade of purple. He scolded me for a few minutes, skipped dinner, and slammed his bedroom door. My mom’s phone buzzed. She was in the shower, so I expertly unlocked her screen. It was the mistress, Vanessa. She was actively trying to provoke my mom, sending a barrage of intimate, disgusting photos of her and my dad in bed. Her texts mocked my mom, goading her to sign the divorce papers immediately. She called my mom a sterile, frigid prude, bragging that my dad preferred her because she was much better in bed. She claimed that she was my dad’s true love, and if my maternal grandfather hadn’t pressured my dad into marriage, she and my dad would have been the legitimate family all along. I typed a reply for my mom: “I don’t believe you. Did you Photoshop these? I remember Richard has a massive mole on his left butt cheek. Your photos don’t show it.” Vanessa took the bait and immediately sent a highly explicit video. To prove her point and traumatize my mom, she filmed it in high-definition, 360 degrees. The mole on my dad’s left cheek was glaringly obvious. It made me want to throw up. Suppressing my nausea, I downloaded the uncensored video and sent it to my own device. After dinner, I opened my laptop and imported the media. I slapped massive, thick mosaic blurs over their private parts and posted it directly to my Facebook and Instagram stories. My caption: “This lady says she’s way better in bed than my mom, and now Dad wants to divorce us! What do I do? Riley doesn’t want to grow up without a dad! (Loud Crying Emoji)” I was only nine years old. Posting this kind of stuff wouldn’t land me in juvenile detention, right? 3 My dad was trying to play the loving, remorseful husband to my mom, while Vanessa was trying to trigger her into a hasty divorce. They thought they were so incredibly smart. I knew my dad would be angry, but I underestimated his absolute, explosive rage. He slapped me across the face so hard I flew backward. Two of my baby teeth were knocked straight out of my mouth. Good god, it hurt. But compared to the agonizing pain of a semi-truck crushing my bones, this slap was just a light drizzle. My mom screamed and tackled him, clawing wildly at his face. She left deep, bleeding scratch marks all over his cheeks. He looked like a monster. He screamed at me to delete the post. I obediently did. But deleting it was useless. It had been up all night. Who knows how many people screen-recorded it? My mom had dozens of wealthy, gossipy housewives on her friends list. I was confident their ability to spread drama wouldn’t disappoint my dad. My dad roared at my mom, “Look at the psychotic daughter you raised!” He slammed the door and left. My mouth was full of blood. My mom was sobbing, trying to drag me to the emergency room. I refused. “Mom, when you’re in danger, you call 911.” She was heartbroken over my injuries but couldn’t stop me as I dragged her directly to the local police precinct. Spitting a mouthful of bloody saliva into a tissue, I walked into the station and finally let out a loud, gut-wrenching wail. With blood staining my lips, I shakily reached out my small hand to a pretty female police officer. In my palm sat the two teeth I had clutched the entire way there. “Officer… Riley wants to report a crime…” My dad had coasted through life on easy mode for years. This was his first time ever sitting in a police interrogation room. And it was for domestic battery against his nine-year-old daughter. He was a prominent, wealthy CEO. He had never experienced this kind of profound humiliation. His face cycled through a rainbow of colors as he sat there with his scratched-up cheeks. My face was swollen to the size of a balloon. The officer explained that my injuries constituted assault. If my mom and I pressed charges, my dad would be facing at least five days in jail, plus fines. Getting him locked up was exactly what I wanted. It bought my mom five crucial days to secure her assets. My dad tried to defend himself by bringing up the explicit video I posted. I immediately pulled out my kid-friendly iPad, opened the blurred video of him and Vanessa, turned the brightness all the way up, and showed it to the entire precinct. “This is the video my dad is talking about. The lady said my dad likes her because she’s good in bed, and she said she gave him a son so my mom needs to divorce him quickly. “Even though my dad is a cheating scumbag, Riley doesn’t want my parents to divorce. “Riley doesn’t want to lose her dad. Riley just wanted the aunties on Facebook to give her advice…” Hitting the emotional climax of my performance, my tears flowed like a broken dam, washing over my swollen, bruised cheeks. If there were a crack in the floor, I’m sure my dad would have shoved his head into it. After a highly uncomfortable silence, the officers gently explained that posting such explicit content online violated platform guidelines. However, since I was a child who didn’t know better and had already deleted it, they let me off with a gentle verbal warning. But now, the entire precinct knew about his disgusting infidelity. The officers looked at him with undisguised contempt. Because my mom and I adamantly refused to drop the charges, and the physical evidence was right there on my face, my dad was hauled off to spend five days singing the blues in a holding cell. 4 Trading two baby teeth for five days of uninterrupted time for my mom was the best deal I ever made. Now wasn’t the time to coddle me. After seeing the dentist, I pushed my mom to go straight to the corporate headquarters. I warned her that several key managerial positions were occupied by Vanessa’s relatives. My mom didn’t waste a second. She hired two towering, intimidating female bodyguards to watch over me, then rushed to the office to clean house. My dad was the classic definition of a gold-digger. He grew up in absolute poverty, raised by a widowed mother who worked herself to the bone to put him through college. My mom’s family wasn’t exceptionally wealthy, but my grandfather was a respected academic who owned a nice house in the city. After my parents graduated and got married, my grandfather sold that house to give them their startup capital. Using that seed money, they grew a tiny two-person operation into a massive tech manufacturing firm worth nearly a hundred million dollars today. My mom was brilliant. She handled the complex operational side of the business flawlessly. But her fatal flaw was her bleeding heart. In my past life, my dad manipulated her empathy, guilt-tripping her into walking away with nothing. She genuinely believed she could just start over from scratch. But the world is cruel. Dragging me along as a single mother, while Vanessa used my dad’s wealth to actively hunt and destroy her… Forget starting a business. We barely had enough to eat. Children are almost always a mother’s greatest weakness. If it weren’t for wanting to secure my custody, my mom never would have surrendered her life’s work. I refused to let history repeat itself. This time, I was the one protecting her! 5 Those five days in a cell must have made my dad hate us to his core. When he was released, he didn’t even bother coming home. He moved straight into the luxury mansion he had bought for Vanessa and his son. Because of the video I posted, he was the laughingstock of his own company. My mom said that on his first day back in the office, he looked like a zoo animal. Employees stared at him, whispering in the hallways. Some of the older, no-nonsense female managers even rolled their eyes and muttered curses as he walked past. Having just gotten out of jail only to face this humiliation, he exploded in a rage, threatening to fire everyone. Naturally, my mom stepped in and vetoed his orders. Discovering that my mom had already fired all of Vanessa’s relatives, my dad had a screaming match with her in the boardroom. The mask was completely off. He knew playing the “remorseful husband” wasn’t going to trick her into leaving empty-handed anymore. He offered a standard 50/50 split of the assets if she agreed to an uncontested divorce. But my mom had already spoken to his private doctor. She knew about his cancer. She knew that even if he underwent surgery, he didn’t have much time left. She absolutely refused to divorce him. These facts validated everything I told her in my “dream.” She would never trust him again. My dad knew his clock was ticking. He couldn’t afford to drag this out for years. But since my mom refused to sign, he had to file a contested divorce lawsuit. In court, my mom held my hand and wept beautifully to the judge. “Your Honor, even though he made a mistake, my daughter and I are willing to forgive him. We’ve built a life together. I won’t abandon our marriage just because he strayed once. “They say you should always try to save a family. I beg the court to dismiss his petition.” I cried on cue. “Daddy, please don’t leave Riley!” My dad looked like he wanted to vomit. He couldn’t produce any evidence of irreconcilable differences, and his affair with Vanessa only proved he was a cheating scumbag, not that my mom was at fault. And yet, my mom and I were publicly declaring our willingness to forgive him. My mom showcased her saint-like capacity for forgiveness, begging him to return to our loving home. After months of legal delays, his first divorce petition was dismissed by the judge. If he wanted to file again, he had to wait a mandatory six months. Unfortunately for him, he didn’t have six months to spare. 6 My mom told me my dad was secretly siphoning funds out of the company accounts. He was preparing a nest egg for Vanessa and his son. He was terrified that if he died while still married to my mom, Vanessa would get nothing. He even secretly drafted a will, attempting to leave his half of the corporate shares to his illegitimate son. I asked my mom anxiously, “Why aren’t you stopping him?” She told me not to worry. She said she was tracking every penny and building a legal case, and she absolutely wouldn’t let strangers steal what belonged to us. I had told my mom every horrifying detail of our past lives. She wasn’t blinded by love anymore. I trusted her competence implicitly. My mom and I suffered far too much in the past. I wasn’t being heartless; I just refused to give a single cent to that homewrecking duo. My dad’s actions were truly despicable. He refused to come home, so I had to go to his and Vanessa’s love nest to find him. I knew exactly where they lived. He had set them up in one of the most exclusive, gated communities in the city. I had been there in my past life too. But back then, I went to beg. I had kneeled on the concrete driveway outside their mansion, pleading with Vanessa to show mercy and let my mom live. Instead, she kicked me to the ground. She ground the stiletto heel of her designer shoe into my cheek, smiling radiantly. “This is karma,” she said. “Your mother was a shameless bitch who got in the way of our true love.” The heel dug into my flesh until I bled. The neighbors who gathered to watch spat on me, calling me a bastard child. She promised that if I knelt and bowed my head, she’d let my mom go. I actually did it. But she just laughed louder, clutching her son’s shoulder as she shook with amusement. That plain, unremarkable face of hers made me want to violently throw up. But today, I was here to collect some interest on that debt. 7 Flanked by my towering female bodyguards, I held up a photo of my dad and Vanessa, asking every neighbor I saw until I found their house. The front gates were wide open. The woman who had strutted triumphantly over my bleeding face in my past life was currently watering the rosebushes in the front yard with her son. A picture of perfect, suburban peace. “Auntie Vanessa.” Vanessa froze the second she saw me. When she noticed the crowd of wealthy, gossip-hungry housewives gathering behind me, sheer panic washed over her face. “Tsk, tsk. I always wondered why her ‘husband’ was never home. She told me he was a busy CEO always flying first class. Turns out she’s just a dirty mistress. How shameless!” “She acts so sweet and polite in the neighborhood. Who knew she was such garbage behind closed doors?” “You really can’t judge a book by its cover. I’m telling my kids to stay far away from her son.” The whispers snapped Vanessa out of her shock. She pretended she didn’t know me, insisting I had the wrong house. She was trying to gaslight me in broad daylight. But I had already shown the photos to everyone. No one believed her. As the neighbors’ comments grew more hostile, she lost her temper and yelled at us to get off her property. I aggressively wiped at my eyes, turning on the waterworks. “Auntie Vanessa, please don’t make my daddy divorce my mommy! “If you just leave him alone, I’ll give you all my money! Don’t you just like my dad for his money? I have a lot of allowance saved up!” I dramatically slammed the porcelain piggy bank I brought with me onto the driveway. It shattered, sending quarters and dollar bills scattering across the pavement. I dropped to my knees, frantically scooping them up and shoving them toward her. The crowd’s disgust toward her reached a boiling point. Her son, Tyler, charged at me, raising his fists. I immediately grabbed his ear and twisted it hard. He shrieked in pain. Vanessa tried to rush me, but my bodyguards easily pinned her arms behind her back. I cried while cursing, and while cursing, I kicked, scratched, and pinched. Like a feral animal, I unleashed every ounce of my pent-up rage directly onto Tyler. “If it wasn’t for you, my dad wouldn’t abandon me! You stole my dad! It’s your fault! It’s all your fault!” Girls hit their growth spurts earlier. Tyler was half a head shorter than me and stood absolutely no chance. I beat him until he was wailing on the ground. He wasn’t my brother. He was a demon. He and his vile mother stole everything from us and then sadistically tortured us for fun. In my past life, as he grew older, he paid kids at my high school to spread rumors that my mom was a deranged stalker who ruined his parents’ lives. He orchestrated having me locked in bathroom stalls, my textbooks shredded, and my assignments destroyed. He even had thugs throw garbage water on me while I walked home. He was rotten to his very core. I wasn’t going to let him off the hook just because he was a “kid.” 8 By the time my dad rushed home, Tyler’s face was bruised and battered. Vanessa clutched her son, weeping beautifully. My dad raised his hand, furious, intending to strike me. My bodyguards immediately stepped in front of me, glaring at him, fists clenched, ready to drop him if he moved an inch. I poked my head between their shoulders and craned my neck toward him. “If you want to go back to a jail cell, hit me! Do it! Kill me right now!” “You knocked out two of my teeth last time! Are you trying to do it again?!” “I’m just trying to protect my family! What did I do wrong?! You have no shame, cheating on my mom! I have the worst luck in the world having a father like you!” There were too many people watching. We were surrounded. They chattered endlessly, condemning Vanessa and my dad’s disgusting behavior. The very people they had tried to impress in this neighborhood were now publicly shaming them. My words struck my dad’s fragile ego so hard he clutched his chest, swaying dizzily. Finally, his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed face-first into the rosebushes. I didn’t expect him to be this fragile. He literally passed out from anger. I immediately cried and screamed, dialing 911. When the ambulance arrived, Vanessa tried to climb in with her bruised son. I forcefully shoved her out the back doors. My dad’s extreme surge of anger triggered a cascade of severe medical complications. He was admitted to the hospital immediately. His cancer had spread aggressively. The doctor said that if he didn’t have surgery immediately, he wouldn’t even survive the month. If he opted for the surgery, there was a 30% survival rate. And even if it was successful, it would only buy him six months to a year. When my dad woke up, the first thing he saw was me. He opened his mouth to curse me, but my mom instantly slapped him hard across the face. “Since you’re already bedridden, shut your mouth and behave!” My dad’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull in rage, but he was so weak he couldn’t even walk without gasping for air. How could he fight my mom? I pinned his shoulders to the mattress, relayed the doctor’s exact words, and asked him what he wanted to do. I have no idea if he got the surgery in my past life, but he died shortly after regardless. His face turned an ashen, deathly gray. He was clearly terrified. But what did that have to do with me and my mom? Whatever he chose, he wasn’t escaping the grim reaper. 9 He ultimately chose the surgery. I wasn’t surprised. A coward like him would cling to even a 1% chance of survival. His mother had passed away long ago, leaving me and my mom as his only legal next of kin. My mom signed the surgical consent forms. Before the operation, he demanded to see Vanessa and Tyler one last time. My mom adamantly refused. He demanded his phone to call them, but my mom had confiscated it. He cursed and screamed, throwing everything he could reach off his bedside table. I grabbed my mom’s hand. “If he wants them here so badly, let them come.” My mom didn’t understand. She just found the sight of them nauseating. But seeing my insistence, she agreed. Vanessa brought Tyler to the hospital, throwing herself onto his chest and weeping loudly. Just as she was mid-sob, the attending doctor led a group of nurses in for morning rounds. I proactively introduced Vanessa’s identity to the entire medical staff. Under the judgmental stares of a dozen professionals, Vanessa’s pale, delicate “innocent” face flushed bright red with extreme embarrassment. Especially since the illegitimate son standing next to her looked almost my exact age. My dad’s face was equally horrifying to look at. The reputation and dignity he had spent a lifetime building were completely annihilated. I looked at the doctors with teary, red eyes. “Even though my dad did terrible, unforgivable things, Riley doesn’t want him to die. Please, doctors, you have to save him.” My dad looked like he wanted to die on the spot. But this was only the beginning. My mom contacted several senior executives and board members from the company to “visit” him. As soon as the doctors left, the executives filed in. Vanessa grabbed Tyler, desperate to flee, but my bodyguards blocked the door. “Since Dad wanted you here so badly, you’re going to stay and let everyone get a good look at you.” After the corporate team left, it was his old classmates. Elementary school, middle school, high school, college. Anyone my mom could dig up from his past, she invited. Wave after wave of visitors poured in. And every single time, my mom politely and thoroughly introduced Vanessa and her son to the room. My dad was stripped of his dignity down to his very bones. Social death in its purest form. Vanessa fared no better, and her son Tyler shrank into the corner, hiding his face in shame. My mom calmly unscrewed her thermos and took a sip of tea. “We have a few distant relatives back in our hometown. If you’d like, I can have Vanessa bring the boy to meet them tomorrow too.” My dad weakly croaked for Vanessa and Tyler to get the hell out.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “424288”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

To save my father, who was dying of leukemia, I aborted my five-month-old baby and donated my bone marrow. But I accidentally discovered that my younger brother was also a perfect match. Everyone had been lying to me. Later, I was reborn. Reborn to the very day I was supposed to donate my marrow. 1. When I was five months pregnant, my dad was diagnosed with leukemia. Out of our entire family, I was the only one who was a match. My mom fell to her knees on the floor, begging me: “Maya, you can always have another baby later, but you only have one dad.” My brother, Noah, called me back-to-back: “Sis, you haven’t even met the baby yet. There’s no real emotional connection. But Dad raised you for over twenty years.” After days of agonizing tears and sleepless nights, I finally made the devastating choice to give up my baby and save my dad’s life. Because getting pregnant had been incredibly difficult for me, my husband naturally fought me tooth and nail. Ridden with guilt, I took the initiative and divorced him. Then, without looking back, I went to the hospital. My dad was saved. But as for me? Between the late-term abortion and the bone marrow donation, my health rapidly deteriorated. Eventually, I was too weak to even hold down a basic desk job. I had to quit, moving back into my parents’ house, where I spent my days doing laundry and cooking for my mom, dad, and brother. Until one day. I found a medical report tucked inside a drawer. It had my brother Noah’s name on it. The conclusion: A Perfect Match. They had been lying to me this whole time. My brother was a viable donor, yet they manipulated me into aborting my baby, destroying my marriage, and living a pathetic, half-dead existence just to protect him. Clutching the report, I stormed out to confront my mom. Blinded by rage, I missed a step. I tumbled down the stairs. But I didn’t die. I was reborn. A groggy haze lifted, and the sharp scent of rubbing alcohol flooded my senses. I opened my eyes. I looked around at the stark white walls. It was a scene I knew too well: I was in the hospital, sitting beside my dad’s bed. I looked down at my slightly rounded belly, and tears instantly blurred my vision—my baby was still here. Perfect. I had been reborn to the time right before the donation. This time, I will fight to the death to protect what is mine. My mom, Susan, was pacing the hospital room, waving the test results. “Old man, you’re saved! I knew Maya would be a match for you!” My dad lay in his bed, his face pale, but a sudden spark of life returning to his eyes. He nodded in deep satisfaction. In a flash, my mom was right in front of me, practically dancing with joy. “Maya, you’re the only one in the family who’s a match! You are our lucky star! Let’s get the doctors to take your marrow right now and save your dad!” she babbled excitedly, her cheeks flushed. I glanced at the report with feigned indifference. Maya Evans, Perfect Match. But looking at it now, it was an absolute joke. I used to think my mom was forced into an impossible corner. That between her unborn grandchild and her husband, she could only choose her husband. That was somewhat understandable. Just like I had agonized over choosing between my child and my father, ultimately leaning toward my father. But now? Not a chance in hell. I stared coldly into my mom’s eyes. “But, Mom, I’m pregnant. Donating marrow means I have to abort the baby. Here, touch your grandchild. You’re literally asking me to commit murder.” I grabbed Susan’s hand and forced it onto my belly. She yanked it back like she’d been burned. “What are you doing?! I’m not asking you to kill anyone, I’m asking you to save a life! Maya, you can always have another baby, but your dad… you only have one dad.” She started breaking down, her voice escalating into a theatrical wail. It was the exact same script as my past life. Hearing it now was just laughable. “But Dad has more than just me. Shouldn’t we take a look at Noah’s results?” “What did you just say?” The color instantly drained from my mom’s face. “Noah got tested ages ago. He wasn’t a match. You know that.” “Really? Let me see the report then,” I pressed relentlessly. “What are you trying to imply?” My mom’s eyes bulged wide. My dad, who had been lying weakly in bed, suddenly struggled to prop himself up, shouting at me: “If you don’t want to donate, then get the hell out!” Gladly. I stroked my belly, supported my lower back, and walked out of the hospital room with my head held high. Behind me, I could hear my mom cursing: “You shameless, ungrateful bitch! I always knew we couldn’t rely on you.” 2. I took an Uber straight to my parents’ house. My parents were at the hospital, and my brother was at work. The house was completely empty. Relying on my memories from my past life, I found Noah’s compatibility report buried deep in a study drawer. Seeing the truth staring back at me again, an overwhelming wave of grief and rage erupted from my chest. These were my “loving” parents. My “loving” brother. I quickly folded the evidence and shoved it into my purse. Right on cue, Noah’s phone call came through. The moment I answered, he started his self-righteous lecture: “Sis, I heard you abandoned Mom and Dad and walked out? Do you have any idea how lost Mom is trying to navigate the billing department by herself? How could you just leave…” I waited for him to finish his long-winded rant before asking, “And what about you? Since Dad got sick, how many times have you actually visited?” “I have to work,” he snapped, clearly annoyed. Two years ago, he landed a cushy government job. According to my mom, he brought “honor to our ancestors.” He was the golden boy. Since my dad fell ill, Noah hadn’t spent a single night at the hospital. I was the one handling the registration, the payments, the medication pickups. “I have a job too. Besides, isn’t your government job supposed to be super relaxed?” I wasn’t going to coddle him anymore. “Fine, fine. I’ll make time to see Dad.” Noah quickly pivoted to the real issue. “But I just found out you’re a match. You can’t just leave him to die.” “Noah, you know I’m five months pregnant. The baby won’t survive the procedure,” I said, playing the emotional card to see his reaction. Noah exploded: “Sis, a five-month-old fetus is just a lump of meat! You haven’t even met it yet. What kind of emotional connection could you possibly have? Stop being so dramatic. Dad raised you for over twenty years. Show some conscience.” I pretended to sound conflicted. “Let me think about it.” “Think about what? What is there to think about?! If I were a match, I would have donated immediately. Would I even need to think about it?” Thank God this was a phone call and not FaceTime, or Noah would have seen the massive, triumphant smirk spreading across my face. “Is that so?” I smiled, snapping a photo of his positive compatibility report and texting it to him. “Then I’ll step aside and let you be the hero.” I hung up the phone, feeling incredibly liberated. Then I headed back to my own apartment. Right now, my husband, Connor, was probably at home sulking. When my dad was first diagnosed, my mom practically forced everyone we knew to get tested—aunts, uncles, cousins, everyone. She even made Connor, who had absolutely no blood relation, get tested. In the end, she tragically announced that not a single person was a match. The only person left was me. My mom begged me to be the final attempt. Connor, usually the most patient man in the world, lost his temper. “Mom, Maya is pregnant! How can she even get tested? And even if she’s a match, what then?” My mom didn’t even glance at him. She just kept crying to me: “Maya, just go try. The chances of matching are so slim anyway, so don’t worry. But it’s the thought that counts. Do you want your dad to die feeling abandoned?” I wavered. Connor stared at me, his eyes red. “Maya, think about this carefully. You know how hard it was for us to get this baby.” I knew better than anyone. I had severely blocked fallopian tubes. We had been married for years without getting pregnant. As we approached thirty, everyone around us was anxious. Whenever my in-laws made passive-aggressive comments, Connor always deflected and covered for me. When they pushed too hard, he even lied and said he was the one with fertility issues and was receiving treatment. His parents finally shut up, and never brought up kids in front of us again. But ironically, without the pressure of being hounded for a baby, I miraculously got pregnant this year. Even the fertility doctor we had seen for years was overjoyed for us. I had cried and asked my mom, “Mom, can we wait? Just wait five more months. After I give birth, I’ll…” My mom’s face turned to ice. “What do you think? With your dad’s condition, he can’t even wait two months. I’m just asking you to get tested. The odds of matching are tiny, and you’re already acting like this. How did I raise such a cowardly daughter? Either you come with me right now, or you’re an unfilial disgrace, and you are never stepping foot in the Evans house again.” In my past life, she practically dragged me to the hospital by force. Connor sighed in utter defeat. Ultimately, our marriage reached a dead end. I thought that after moving back to my parents’ house, they would at least treat me well. I was incredibly naive. My parents were furious. They felt that since I wasn’t bringing in any money, I was just a freeloader. From then on, I never saw a single warm smile from them. My mom would say: “When you divorced, why didn’t you demand more money? What kind of woman divorces and just leeches off her parents?” My brother complained: “My girlfriend is coming over soon. Sis, you should just go rent a place outside.” Even the father whose life I saved with my body chimed in to mock me: “I only have one kidney too, but I’m not nearly as fragile and dramatic as you.” Heh. These were my “loving” family members. 3. So, when Connor saw me walk through the door, his eyes widened in absolute shock. He even stammered, “Maya, you… why are you back? Weren’t you supposed to stay at the hospital to take care of your dad?” “Why wouldn’t I come back? I’m exhausted carrying this baby around, okay? Let Noah and Mom take care of him.” My casual, IDGAF attitude seemed completely incomprehensible to Connor. In the past, I would have been running myself ragged back and forth to the hospital despite his hundreds of attempts to stop me. “Actually, you really do need to focus on your own health.” Seeing me finally give up on being a martyr, Connor was secretly overjoyed. I tentatively asked, “Honey, I have something to tell you, but you have to promise not to get mad.” He nodded. I then told him the truth: I was a match, but my mom was trying to force me to abort the baby to donate my marrow. His jaw practically hit the floor. It was only after I swore up and down that I would never sacrifice our baby that Connor finally let out a massive sigh of relief. He gently pulled me into a hug. “Wife, the fact that you made such a difficult choice… I’m so incredibly moved. I swear, I will use every connection I have to help find a compatible donor for your dad.” I rolled my eyes. “Actually… they already found one.” I pulled Noah’s compatibility report out of my bag and slammed it onto the table. Connor glanced at it, disbelief written all over his face. “This report is dated September 28th. The results came out over a week ago?” “Yep. Exactly.” That’s right. My parents had known the results for a long time. “Then… then why did they… why did they make you go get tested?” Connor’s voice trembled slightly. I flopped onto the sofa, casually popping a cherry into my mouth, completely unfazed. “Simply put, they didn’t want Noah to go through the procedure. So they targeted me, fully willing to sacrifice our baby.” Connor was furious. If I hadn’t stopped him, he probably would have stormed back to the hospital to start a war. “Are they even human?” Connor sounded like he was about to cry. I spat the cherry pit into the trash and said seriously, “You could say they barely resemble humans anymore. But honey, since they had this plan from the start, I don’t think they’re going to give up easily. You need to stay close and protect me.” “As long as I’m here, no one is touching you or our baby.” Exactly as I predicted. My mom’s phone calls started coming in relentlessly. For the sake of my own peace of mind, I muted my phone entirely. Dozens of 59-second voicemails flooded my inbox in minutes. I didn’t even bother listening to a single one. To ensure the safety of my pregnancy, I took an extended leave from work. I stayed indoors, absolutely determined to bring this baby into the world safely. On a bright, sunny weekend, with Connor supporting me, I went downstairs for a walk around the apartment complex. And was immediately ambushed by my mom. I hadn’t seen her in days. Her hair was a mess, and her eyes were bloodshot. When she saw me, she lunged like a starving wolf. “Maya Evans! What the hell are you trying to do?!” Connor immediately shifted his body, standing like a wall between us, terrified I might get bumped or shoved. “What do you mean?” I asked, keeping my chin high. “Are you really going to stand by and watch him die?! That is your biological father!” Her voice escalated several octaves. The neighbors walking by stopped and stared, eager for some neighborhood drama. I immediately called out her lies. “Mom, stop pretending. Noah is a match too. Go beg him.” My mom grew even more enraged. “You don’t just want your dad to die, you want to destroy the entire Evans family!” That was a massive accusation. Even I was a bit stunned. Seeing my reaction, my mom suddenly dropped to her knees right there on the pavement. I frowned. “What are you doing? Everyone is watching.” She didn’t care. She started aggressively bowing, her forehead hitting the stone path. Her voice grew even louder. “My daughter! I’m begging you! Save your father! If he dies, I won’t survive either!” 4. A few elderly women who were watching their grandkids nearby felt their gossip sensors tingling and started inching closer. My mom cried even harder. There was even a faint smudge of blood on her forehead. She was really going all out for this performance. Connor and I took a few steps back. We had no interest in playing along with her theatrics. She immediately jumped up, grabbed my arm, and screamed: “You can’t leave! Look at this woman, everyone! Her own father is lying in a hospital bed waiting for her to save his life! And she? She’s hiding here, refusing to lift a finger!” The elderly women instantly transformed into self-righteous judges, pointing fingers at me. “Young lady, your mother is literally bowing at your feet. This… even God would find this unacceptable.” “She looks so pretty, but how can her heart be so ugly?” “You’re pregnant! You need to build good karma for the baby in your belly. How can you refuse to save your own parents?” … The gossipy women unleashed a barrage of judgment. Seeing people taking her side, my mom looked emboldened. But I wasn’t intimidated. I looked at the grandmas, my face calm and my heartbeat steady. “My mom wants me to abort my baby to save him. If this were your daughter-in-law, would you agree? Mrs. Miller, I heard your daughter-in-law is pregnant with her second child. If her parents came begging at your door, would you say yes?” I targeted the loudest one in the group. Mrs. Miller practically fled. “Are you crazy?! Why would you curse my family like that?!” Connor stared at my mom with nothing but resentment. “The worst part is, her own son is a perfect match and could donate. But she insists her daughter must kill an unborn child to save him.” The other bystanders lost interest in lecturing me and slowly dispersed. My mom sighed, switching to a pleading tone. “Noah… he has a girlfriend. She’s the daughter of a high-ranking official. We were planning on him bringing her home this year. The girl’s family didn’t even mind that your dad was sick. It was such a great match! But when they heard Noah might have to donate marrow, the girl refused to marry him. She was afraid it would damage his health.” The moment the words “damage his health” slipped out, my mom looked instantly regretful. I smiled sweetly at her. “So, you’re not afraid it will damage my health?” She looked guilty. “That’s just ignorant people talking. The doctors said it’s perfectly fine.” I calmly tore down her logic. “The doctors said it’s fine for a young, healthy man. But I am a pregnant woman. Never mind the procedure itself—a late-term abortion is incredibly damaging to a woman’s body.” Connor stepped forward. “Mom, if Noah’s girlfriend isn’t willing to risk it, then I am absolutely unwilling to let my wife risk it.” “Good heavens! They aren’t even married yet! I can’t ruin your brother’s lifelong happiness!” She wiped her tears and snot, continuing, “But you two are married. We are one family. Your father-in-law is like your own father. What is there to be unhappy about?” “Then aren’t you afraid Connor and I will divorce? What about my lifelong happiness?” I asked bluntly. She fell silent for a long time. We turned to leave. But to my surprise, my mom still refused to give up. “But if both men in the house damage their health, how are we supposed to survive? Maya, just help the Evans family out. You always loved your little brother the most when you were kids.” My mom desperately clutched my shirt. I violently yanked it out of her grip. “I didn’t love him the most; the entire family ONLY loved him. Now, you can finally ask him for a little payback. As for my bone marrow, don’t even think about it. I will never agree.” My mom stared at me blankly, finally realizing that I truly wasn’t going to give her what she wanted. She suddenly started laughing maniacally. “Hahaha, I raised you all these years, and you turn out to be a vicious, ungrateful snake. Do you really think you’re going to carry that baby to term? Aren’t you afraid of a sudden miscarriage? Aren’t you afraid you’ll give birth to an idiot or a cripple?!” 5. Hearing her violently curse my unborn child, my heart pounded wildly, and my ears started ringing. I could barely stay on my feet. Seeing I was unwell, Connor immediately supported me and started walking me back inside. My mom tried to stick to me like a leech again. Connor threw his arm out to block her. “Ouch!” My mom conveniently collapsed to the ground. “My foot! My foot!” She kept screaming that her foot hurt so much she couldn’t stand up. Connor instinctively reached out to help her up. She refused, lying flat on the pavement. The HOA board members had been watching us ever since my mom started causing a scene. Seeing her fall, they were afraid someone might actually get hurt, so they quickly called an ambulance. As my mom was being loaded onto the stretcher, groaning dramatically, she still managed to reach out and grab both me and Connor. “Don’t let them leave. They pushed me.” We went with her to the hospital. A fractured toe. The doctor said she could be admitted or recover at home. My mom insisted on being admitted. The doctor cast a slightly sympathetic glance at us. My mom snapped: “What are you looking at? My son-in-law pushed me. It’s only right that they take care of me.” Connor defended himself: “Mom, I swear I didn’t push you. You bumped into me yourself.” “What are you implying?!” Although her toe was broken, her upper body was still as fierce as ever. She grabbed Connor by the collar and screamed, her spit flying directly into his face. “Are you saying I don’t care about my own life? That I would joke around with my own safety?!” The doctor quickly intervened. “Ma’am, please keep your voice down in the hospital.” My mom rolled her eyes at him and settled comfortably into the hospital bed. For the next few days, we had no choice but to take care of my mom. But my dad still needed someone too, so we had to hire a private nurse for him. I reluctantly footed the bill. I had no choice. Both the elderly people were bedridden. Honestly, all I wanted was to live my life in peace. I didn’t care about the money. I didn’t want to get tangled up in their drama anymore. A few days later, my mom was discharged—or more accurately, she was “kicked out” by the hospital. Hospital beds were in high demand, and my mom spent every night loudly video-chatting with my dad, severely disturbing the other patients in her room. I thought the ordeal was finally over and that Connor and I’s night-shift nursing duties were finished. Who could have predicted that my mom would pull another ruthless stunt? She called my husband directly. “Connor, let me tell you this. You pushed me and broke my bone. I’ve already consulted a lawyer. It counts as an assault, and you can face criminal charges. It’s up to you. If Maya still refuses to donate her marrow, you can go straight to jail.” Connor had put the call on speakerphone. Listening to her, my face burned with intense shame—this was actually my mother. Connor was just as fierce. He fired back immediately: “Even if I go to jail, I will never let Maya do it. Give up that fantasy.” My mom cursed him as an “ungrateful bastard” and viciously hung up the phone. Not long after, we received a court summons. Accompanied by my brother and a lawyer, my mom sat at the plaintiff’s table, tearfully accusing us. “Your Honor, I just went to see my daughter to ask her to visit her sick father. And what happened? My son-in-law wasn’t happy about it. He violently shoved an old woman like me, and I instantly collapsed in excruciating pain.” The lawyer submitted the ambulance dispatch record, the hospital medical records, and the injury report as evidence. Seeing that we, the defendants, hadn’t even hired a lawyer, he flashed a smug, guaranteed-victory smile. Back when my mom was still in the hospital and cursing Connor every day, I had gone down to the building management office in front of her. I requested they pull the security footage from that specific corner to prove Connor’s innocence. But the management told me explicitly: that area was a blind spot for the cameras. My mom had heard that too. So now, she believed she could completely fabricate this crime against Connor just by acting. 6. Unbothered and unhurried, I presented my witness and evidence. I spoke calmly and clearly: “When the incident occurred, we were indeed in a camera blind spot. However, that doesn’t mean no one recorded the truth.” That day, my mom’s behavior was completely unhinged. Not only did she attract the attention of the elderly women strolling downstairs, but she also caught the attention of Jessica on the second floor of the building across from us. Gossip is human nature. Jessica happened to be free that day, doing yoga in front of her floor-to-ceiling windows. When she saw my mom’s theatrical performance, she completely forgot her poses. She immediately grabbed her phone and started recording. The video clearly showed that Connor was only protecting me, blocking the space between me and my mom. It was my mom who charged forward, slammed into Connor, stumbled, and fell to the ground. From beginning to end, Connor didn’t make a single aggressive move. I knew my mom too well. Thank God I had a backup plan. When I found out there were no security cameras, I was worried my mom would try something malicious. So, I immediately posted in the community Facebook group asking for help. I asked if anyone had witnessed the argument and begged them to come forward as a witness. Jessica immediately added me on WhatsApp and sent me the video. “So that’s what was happening with your family. That old lady’s acting skills are Oscar-worthy.” Jessica had a strong sense of justice and was more than willing to testify in court. So, in the courtroom, the evidence was ironclad. My mom, however, refused to accept it, screaming: “They live in the same apartment complex! They know each other! She’s obviously covering for them!” My brother, sitting next to her, added with an eye roll: “Who knows if that video was deepfaked.” The judge repeatedly yelled “Order in the court,” but couldn’t stop them from shouting. I saw the opposing lawyer helplessly massage his temples—this paycheck is not worth the headache. The witness, Jessica, stated proudly: “I am fully willing to bear legal responsibility for the evidence I provided. If the video is authentic, do you have the courage to admit you are committing perjury?” Finally, the judge ruled that Connor was not at fault. As we walked out of the courthouse, my mom and brother were waiting for us on the steps outside. My mom’s jaundiced eyes were filled with pure venom. “Consider yourselves lucky this time. But there’s always a next time. Oh, I forgot to tell you. The doctor said your dad’s condition is stabilizing. He can hold out for another three months.” Of course, I understood her underlying threat—for the next three months, she would use every vile tactic imaginable to destroy us. My brother stood nearby, speaking with passive-aggressive sarcasm. “Sister, I really don’t understand what you’re holding onto. Does turning this family into a warzone make you happy?” My mom spat on the ground. “To me, she’s not even a part of this family anymore. She just loves causing chaos. She fed her conscience to the dogs.” I didn’t let their words faze me at all. I brushed past them and kept walking. When we got home, Connor looked deeply regretful. “Maya, I’m actually terrified thinking about it now. If we didn’t have that video evidence, I would have been completely screwed. And the scariest part is, if I went to jail and wasn’t by your side, I’m afraid they would resort to physical violence against you. Why don’t I send you away for a while? You can go stay with my parents out of state.” I refused. Their shameless actions had officially crossed my bottom line. I wasn’t going to let them off the hook that easily. So I said firmly, “I’m not going anywhere. From now on, I’m facing them head-on. No, wait… I’m taking the offensive.” “What are you going to do? Don’t do anything rash. I’m worried you’ll overexert yourself. Your health is the most important thing,” Connor said, frantic with worry. “Don’t worry. I absolutely will not make a move unless I know both me and the baby are completely safe,” I assured him. To kill a snake, you must strike its heart. No one understood Susan and Robert Evans better than me. Their most precious heart was naturally Noah. They would rather jump through endless hoops and cause massive destruction than force Noah to draw a single tube of blood. The most ridiculous part was, when they hid that compatibility report, they didn’t even tell Noah about it. They did it to ensure Noah wouldn’t bear a single ounce of psychological guilt. Well then, I was going to target their precious golden boy. 7. I set up a poll on an online forum and bought some promoted traffic to boost its visibility. “An elderly father dying of leukemia VS A baby conceived after six years of struggling with infertility. To save the father, you must abort the child to donate bone marrow. Who do you choose to save?” To be honest, it was a genuinely grueling ethical dilemma. The vote ratio hovered around 50/50, and the comments section was an absolute warzone. Neither side could convince the other. “No one is more important than my parents. I would only choose to save my father.” “Trying to get pregnant for 6 years? Ladies, if the poster aborts this child, she might never be able to conceive again for the rest of her life.” “Upstairs, is a fetus really that important?” “I’m a mother, and I would probably choose the child. Looking at it from another angle, the father is older and has lived a full life, but the child hasn’t even seen the world yet.” … I sat in front of my computer, watching the comment count rapidly climb, closing in on 2,000 comments. On the third day, I decided to host a live stream. Simultaneously, I announced my personal answer to the public. “Poster, is this a real situation you are currently facing?” the viewers in the live stream asked curiously. I admitted it: “Yes. I am currently over five months pregnant. It truly took six years of struggling to finally conceive. However, very unfortunately, my father was diagnosed with leukemia.” Instantly, the live chat flooded with messages of comfort and sympathy. I faked a sorrowful, bitter smile. “However, this situation has already been properly resolved.” The viewers immediately pressed for my decision. I said: “Thank you all for your concern. I don’t have to choose anymore, because my younger brother is also a perfect match.” I pulled out the medical report and displayed it on the live stream. I didn’t even bother to cover Noah’s name. Yes, I did that on purpose. I continued: “But right now, my mom and brother are probably wrestling with the decision. After all, donating bone marrow is no small matter, and it does take a toll on the body…” Someone in the chat immediately corrected me: “For a healthy adult male, donating a few hematopoietic stem cells is perfectly safe. He’ll recover in a few days.” Someone else commented: “Even if it did affect his health, he has to save his own dad! The poster is pregnant and still stressing over her father.” And then, someone noticed: “Wait… this brother, Noah Evans… I think he’s a coworker at my agency.” This live stream hit around 20,000 viewers. After logging off, I sent the live stream replay to a few friends, asking them to spread it as aggressively as possible. We live in a relatively small city. Even a minor piece of gossip can become common knowledge overnight. So a story like this? How could people not relish the drama? Then, I turned off my phone and went to sleep peacefully. When I woke up the next morning, my phone showed over a dozen missed calls. All from my mom and brother. What was going on? Back when they were begging me to donate marrow, they only called about 7 times a day. Are they really this impatient? My mom called again, and I answered without hesitation. “Maya Evans, what the hell are you trying to do?! You are going to drive your brother to suicide! If anything happens to your brother, you won’t survive either! I will drag you to hell with me!” I smiled and said: “What’s wrong? Escalating straight to murder and arson? I haven’t done anything.” My mom screamed: “You haven’t done anything?! Right now, everyone is pressuring your brother to donate marrow! Strangers are calling his phone! He’s being driven insane!” I said nonchalantly: “Then he should just donate it.” “He’s been terrified of pain since he was a kid! And he still needs to get married and have kids to carry on the Evans family bloodline…” My mom’s shrieks continued piercing through the phone speaker. To protect my eardrums, I held the phone far away from my ear. “You guys figure it out yourselves. One is your husband, the other is your son. Either way, it has nothing to do with me,” I said dismissively.

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While filming a reality show, an actress and her crew ignored the “Do Not Pick” sign in my yard. They broke through the fence and ate the hybrid tomatoes I had spent two years researching. Afterward, she cried and played the victim, and the production team encouraged her fans to attack me for making a fuss over nothing. That is, until I tagged her using my official National Academy of Sciences account, and the internet exploded. 1 The moment I heard the alarm go off, I immediately shut my laptop and walked out into the yard. What met my eyes was a bustling crowd of people surrounding my planting base. The fence, which had been standing perfectly fine, had been violently broken in half. The once-pristine grove was now a mess, with fruit from the trees thrown everywhere. Several burly men carried cameras, filming a delicate young girl from every angle. She looked innocently at the unripe tomato in her hand and sighed: “These fruits are so small, they look sour. Aren’t there any bigger ones?” She smiled ruefully at the camera, her dimples faintly visible. I recognized her as Mia, an actress who had recently become popular from a sweet romance drama. I usually know nothing about the entertainment industry. But during my classes, I often saw students secretly watching her shows. They said Mia was a rare beauty, kind-hearted, and polite. Looking at what was in her hand, those were experimental seedlings that could delay the onset of cancer. After years of hard work, I finally found out that the soil here was the most suitable for these small tomatoes to survive. Carrying my suitcase, I worked day and night in this dusty little village, conducting experiments, collecting specimens, and recording data. It wasn’t easy to get this single surviving seedling. I took a deep breath, afraid I might pass out from anger: “Didn’t you see the sign I put up? Do not pick!” My tone was harsh. Mia was clearly stunned for a moment. Used to being pampered and praised, tears immediately welled up in her eyes. She pouted and said angrily: “It’s just a tomato, isn’t it? “You’re just a yard keeper, how dare you scold me like that!” Mia glanced down at my dusty, worn clothes and muttered a quiet retort. The crew around her immediately noticed what was going on. They ran over to shoo me away. The director, holding a megaphone, said: “This is a filming set, no unauthorized personnel allowed.” I was so angry I almost laughed. They break into someone’s home, make a mess, and then try to kick the owner out. Where is the logic in that? 2 While I was arguing with the director, Mia, throwing a tantrum, had been coaxed to rest on the other side. Just then, two male celebrities walked over. One had a baby face and carried a bamboo basket filled with some wild greens. The other was a cold-looking man, carrying nothing. He had an assistant holding a heavy black umbrella over him. When he looked at me, he instinctively frowned. Seeing that I wasn’t very old, he probably assumed I was an obsessive fan: “Are you a stalker fan? You people really are everywhere, it makes me sick just looking at you.” As soon as he finished speaking, the baby-faced guy tried to smooth things over: “Julian, there must be some misunderstanding. She doesn’t even look like an adult.” Julian snorted coldly, noticing Mia in the shade in the distance. He walked straight over there. The baby-faced guy hopped over to me: “Little girl, is this your house?” I was busy trying to save the broken tomato seedlings and didn’t have time to answer him. Seeing I wasn’t speaking, the baby-faced guy crouched down to help me organize them. After learning that the production crew had broken into my house, he looked apologetic. The baby-faced guy told me this was a reality show about country life. They had invited guests to gather food in the village and divided them into two teams for a competition. The losing team had to cook dinner. Mia was their teammate. They had agreed to go together, but the moment the director said start, she ran off. The baby-faced guy’s apology was sincere, and he even promised to compensate me for the loss privately. Seeing that there was still a chance to save the tomato seedlings, although the results would be delayed by a year or two, my mood improved slightly. The baby-faced guy working diligently beside me had mud on his white shirt, and his perfect makeup was ruined by sweat. Not only did he not have a celebrity’s arrogance, but he also had the rustic charm of a farmer. Seeing me looking at him, the baby-faced guy wiped his sweat: “It’s okay, I’m free so I might as well help you. I’m not famous anyway, the director won’t come looking for me.” I found him much more agreeable: “The wild greens in your basket shouldn’t be eaten together. That weed that looks like okra is called Jimsonweed, it’s poisonous.” He looked terrified and threw the wild greens away: “Thanks, I thought it was okra I had eaten before, almost ended up in the hospital.” 3 When the production crew left, a cold-faced staff member came over. He was Mia’s assistant. Expressionless, he threw two thousand dollars in cash at me: “Consider this compensation. It can buy dozens of pounds of your broken tomatoes. Don’t talk nonsense about what happened on the show, or just wait for a lawyer’s letter.” I remembered what the baby-faced guy had just explained to me. “Be careful of Mia, her fans are crazy. A normal person was cyberbullied into suicide just for saying Mia’s acting was bad. “You know that guy just now? His family is very powerful, and he’s just one of Mia’s suitors. “She has a huge financial backer, Marcus Sterling. It’s said that if he stomps his foot, the whole entertainment industry trembles.” I smiled and ignored the staff member’s threat: “I’ll be waiting for your lawyer’s letter.” 4 After everyone had left. I opened my phone and scrolled to the family section. I clicked on Marcus Sterling’s number: “Hey, brother, I need to ask you about someone…” Before the dial tone even finished, the call was picked up instantly. A deep male voice sounded, carrying a hint of grievance. “Maya, you finally decided to call me. Do you know I’ve turned over every nook and cranny in the country looking for you? “How’s your stomach? Did you skip meals again for your experiments? I’m telling you, don’t stay up all night. You’re young now, but when you’re older you’ll know…” I quietly moved the phone further away. Who would have thought the man acting like a nagging mother on the other end was the cold-faced CEO, dressed in a sharp suit and gold-rimmed glasses in the financial magazines? Years ago, I developed stomach issues because of my research. My brother specifically got a nutritionist certification. When working from home, he would be on a ten-million-dollar phone call while cooking. Wearing a pink frilly apron, looking extremely serious as he used a digital scale to accurately measure the grams of salt. This time, I had gone into isolation for a few years to extract an anti-cancer element from small tomatoes. Except for reporting my safety to my brother, I basically had no time to chat. Originally, we could have proceeded to clinical trials, but now we can only postpone it. Those patients waiting hopefully for my research results will have to wait a long time again. Marcus and I have depended on each other for decades. He clearly heard the exhaustion and sadness in my tone. When I asked about Mia, he immediately noticed something was wrong. I heard him quietly asking the secretary next to him who Mia was. The next second, my brother asked casually: “You don’t like her?” I looked at the fruit scattered on the ground that hadn’t been picked up yet, and sighed: “I don’t have a good impression of people who waste food.” 5 An hour after I hung up the phone. The entertainment news app on my phone pushed the latest news about the Sterling Group. I opened Twitter, which my brother had downloaded for me. On the trending list, the topic of the Sterling Group deleting the announcement of Mia as the spokesperson for the next season exploded. The Sterling Group, rich and powerful, changing spokespersons like changing clothes, always offered high endorsement fees. They only chose top-tier celebrities. For Mia, who had been in the industry for years and wasn’t yet a top star, this was a premium resource. Faced with bystanders who were eager to watch the drama unfold. A group of her fans were aggressively defending her: 【It’s just a bug with the official account that hid it. What are you haters barking about?】 【Who doesn’t know the relationship between Mia and the Sterling Group? Being a wealthy heiress is no joke!】 Some people even tagged Marcus Sterling, 【Why aren’t you doing anything! This is your own sister! What kind of brother are you!】 I was completely confused reading this. Fortunately, there were hardcore Mia fans to explain. It turned out that on the day Mia won the Best Newcomer award, she landed on the number one trending spot. The second trending topic was Marcus Sterling using his official account to congratulate his sister on achieving her wish. He generously gave away hundreds of red envelopes worth over a hundred thousand dollars on the platform. Mia grabbed the largest one, ten thousand dollars. She posted: 【Thank you, brother, love you】. The comment got tens of thousands of likes. Because Marcus didn’t name his sister, and Mia’s comment was pushed to the top. Many uninformed people assumed they were siblings. Someone asked why the brother and sister had different last names. They were brainwashed by hardcore fans, “The sister took the mother’s last name, the brother took the father’s. Doesn’t this just show how much their parents love each other? It means the family is harmonious.” I facepalmed. My parents were indeed very loving. When my mom gave birth to us, it was almost a difficult labor because we were twins. My dad was scared to death. To show gratitude, he let us both take our mom’s last name. Unfortunately, they later died in a plane crash. My brother protected me, heartbroken. Amidst a pack of predatory relatives, he guarded our parents’ legacy. He grew the company to what it is today. He protected me even more carefully, wishing he could keep me tied to him at all times. He kept my information well hidden on the internet. To this day, no one knows I am Marcus Sterling’s twin sister. As a known sis-con, when I became the youngest professor at A University, his pride had nowhere to vent. He wanted to order a giant red celebratory banner and hang it on the front of the company’s headquarters in the bustling city center. I, having some sense of shame, refused him. I could tell with my eyes closed that my brother didn’t read the comments. Or rather, he read them but didn’t care. In his world, besides his beloved mom, dad, and sister, no one else mattered. However, Mia’s fans made a fuss for a long time. Some couldn’t sit still and went to curse at the official account: 【Why hasn’t the bug been fixed yet? The staff in charge of Sterling’s operations should come out and apologize!】 【Offending the CEO’s sister and still expecting good things? Keep dreaming.】 The next second, the official account responded. 【From now on, all subsidiaries and related fields under the Sterling Group will completely cut off all cooperation with Mia.】 Well, there you go. Be careful what you wish for. I chuckled, my mood improving slightly. 6 The negative impact of the endorsement cancellation was too great. Mia’s studio immediately released behind-the-scenes footage of the rural reality show. Under the sunlight, in a fenced yard far from the city’s hustle and bustle, a girl in a floral dress played with water by a small stream. Paired with sweet BGM. When Mia’s signature dimples appeared, the comments were filled with: 【Corporate slave cured, sweet girls are forever the best!】 【Mia is having so much fun, I want to go there too.】 The next second, the cozy vibe took a sharp turn. It was Mia holding a green tomato, facing off against a woman whose face couldn’t be clearly seen. My face was blurred out. My pant legs were rolled up, covered in mud, and my tone was fierce, scolding her for what she was doing. I looked like someone hard to get along with. On the contrary, Mia had red eyes, looking like she had been scared to tears. Her pitiful little bunny look made the fans explode: 【Who is this rural auntie? So classless. Seeing our Mia alone, she’s bullying her, right!】 【I’m so angry. Mia is crying so pitifully. Where did the staff go? Hurry up and drive this idiot away!】 My eyebrows twitched. This footage was taken out of context. It didn’t show at all how she let people destroy my fence or how she wreaked havoc in my yard. Netizens only saw me bullying a little girl. Even at the end of the footage, there was a shot of a staff member handing me two thousand dollars. 【This production crew is so useless, giving her money. How many pounds of tomatoes can two thousand dollars buy?】 【No choice, Mia is just too kind. Luckily there are mom fans. My cousin lives in a village nearby, wait for my news, everyone.】 The comments below were all in agreement. 【Waiting for you. Mia’s fans are not to be messed with. We’ll protect our baby!】 The internet was in an uproar, and it hung on the trending list for a long time. The production team comfortably enjoyed the heat and added fuel to the fire. They re-posted the studio’s behind-the-scenes video on their own account. The views exceeded ten million. They completely ignored the fact that I was an ordinary person with nothing to do with the entertainment industry. I put down my phone. I sent an email to my pharmaceutical company, and in the afternoon, an expert team arrived from out of town. To assess my losses. The cost of drug development is always high, from research to clinical trials to hitting the market. The funds invested range from millions to hundreds of millions. Especially for anti-cancer drugs. A day later, I received a lawsuit for an amount exceeding ten million. The lawyer told me the lawsuit could begin at any time. The director of the program suddenly showed up at my door. 7 That day, I had just had the tomato seedlings sent back to the lab by professionals. Their roots were damaged, so they couldn’t be planted in soil for the time being. I finished packing and was just about to leave. The director suddenly barged in very rudely. He looked at my empty room and was stunned for a moment: “Hey, why are you moving away? Good thing I got here fast.” The director came over in the hot sun, sweating profusely, the fat on his face gleaming with oil. He reached out to pull me. I dodged him. I frowned and said: “I’m a germaphobe.” The director was a bit angry, “What kind of country bumpkin has germaphobia? Hurry up and come with me.” He explained impatiently. “Your interaction with Mia last time had a great effect for the show. Go again today, maintain the previous style, the more unreasonable the better.” After he finished speaking, he gestured: “I’ll give you two hundred a day, fair enough? You wouldn’t make that much farming for a month.” I understood. The director felt that the previous program’s popularity had been hyped up, and wanted to strike while the iron was hot, calling me over to help set up a persona for Mia. To highlight her purity and innocence. It could also manipulate her fans’ emotions and increase attention. I was just about to refuse. The director suddenly received a call. “What? Marcus Sterling is coming to our show to find his sister? In this middle of nowhere, what sister could there be?” He paused: “Could it be Mia? Quick, send someone to the airport to pick up Mr. Sterling! This is a massive stroke of luck, the show’s ratings will skyrocket!” The wrinkles on the director’s face bunched together in a smile, revealing only a pair of sleazy, squinty eyes. I got goosebumps. I hope he smiles this happily when he receives the court summons.

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