1 I paid three thousand dollars for a live-in housekeeper to look after my cat and my apartment while I spent eighteen days traveling abroad. The night I returned, I stood outside my own front door, dragging two heavy suitcases, and entered the passcode three times. The keypad screen flashed red every single time: Access Denied. I thought my brain had turned to mush after a fifteen-hour flight. I looked down and double-checked the memo on my phone. It was correct. 0529. That was the temporary passcode I had set for Brenda, the housekeeper, before I left the country. I tried entering it again. Still incorrect. Suddenly, a woman’s voice drifted through the door. “Who is it? Stop pressing the button, the baby is trying to sleep.” I stood there, completely dumbfounded. This was my apartment. I was standing outside my own home, being treated like an annoyance by a total stranger inside. I pressed the doorbell. After about ten seconds, the door cracked open a few inches. A woman in her thirties poked her head out. Her hair was a messy nest, and on her feet, she wore the gray slippers I usually kept in my entryway. She eyed me up and down. “Who are you looking for?” I stared at the slippers on her feet. “I should be asking you that question.” The woman frowned. “Who even are you?” “I am the owner of this apartment.” The woman’s face stiffened. She turned back toward the living room and yelled, “Mom! The landlord is back!” Landlord? An instant wave of fury rushed up my throat. She pushed the door wide open. Through the doorway, I saw a young boy sitting on my living room sofa, holding my iPad and watching cartoons. Greasy takeout boxes littered the coffee table, and several children’s shirts were strewn across the cushions. The balcony door was half-open, letting a heavy wave of cigarette smoke and cheap cooking oil drift into the room. Right in the middle of my plush white rug, there was a nasty, dark brown liquid stain. In the kitchen, a short-haired man walked out holding a pot. When he saw me, he froze. That enamel Dutch oven in his hands had cost me four hundred dollars. Before I could say a word, the master bedroom door swung open. Brenda stepped out. She was wearing my silk robe, the one I had carefully washed and tucked into the deepest corner of my closet before leaving. “Oh, Ed, why are you back so early today?” She spoke so casually, as if she were simply asking why I had gotten off work early. I stared at her. “This is my home. Am I not allowed to come back to it?” Brenda looked a little uncomfortable, but she quickly forced a smile. “I didn’t mean it like that. Didn’t you say you’d be back on the second?” “I changed my flight. I came back two days early.” I pointed at the crowd in the living room. “Who are these people?” Before Brenda could answer, the younger woman spoke up. “I’m her daughter, Fiona.” The man in the kitchen added, “I’m her son-in-law, Greg.” The little boy on the sofa waved the iPad. “Grandma, I want some yogurt!” I let out a dry laugh. “So I paid three thousand dollars for a housekeeper, went on a trip, and your entire family decided to move in?” Brenda’s face darkened. “Ed, that is a very unpleasant way to put it. I’m an old woman, and staying in such a large apartment by myself makes me nervous. I just had my family come over to keep me company. What is wrong with that?” “Keep you company?” I took a step inside. Fiona blocked my path. “Hey, don’t just barge in. The baby just fell asleep.” I looked her dead in the eye. “Get out of my way.” She didn’t budge. Brenda hurried over. “Fiona, don’t argue with him. Ed, everyone has had a long day. Let’s talk about this tomorrow.” “We are talking about this right now.” I dropped my suitcases by the door, pulled out my phone, and opened the photo of our contract. “I signed an eighteen-day agreement with Aegis Home Care for three thousand dollars. The contract clearly states that the only person permitted to stay here is you, Brenda Gable. You were supposed to sleep in the guest room, you were not allowed to have guests overnight, you were not allowed to use the master bedroom, and you were strictly forbidden from touching my personal belongings.” I looked up at the silk robe she was wearing. “Explain this to me.” Brenda’s face flushed with embarrassment. She pulled the robe tighter around herself. “My clothes were in the wash and weren’t dry yet. I just borrowed it for a bit. It is not like I ruined it.” Her son-in-law, Greg, set the Dutch oven down on the counter. “Look, Mr. Cole, this place was sitting empty anyway. Is our staying here for a few days going to make the building collapse?” I looked at him. “You used my kitchen, slept in my bed, wore my clothes, and now you are telling me it is just a few days?” Greg rolled his eyes. “Rich people are always so dramatic.” Fiona leaned against the shoe cabinet, her tone incredibly aggressive. “My mother has been watching your place and taking care of your cat, working herself to the bone. You walk in the door and start throwing a tantrum. Is that really necessary?” That was when I remembered my cat. “Where is Milkshake?” Brenda’s eyes darted away. “Out on the balcony.” I pushed past Fiona and headed straight for the balcony. She reached out to stop me. “What do you think you’re doing?” “Checking on my cat.” In the far corner of the balcony, Milkshake was curled up tight inside his little dome bed. His white fur was badly matted. His water bowl was bone dry. The litter box was so full it was practically overflowing. I knelt down and called his name. He looked up at me, letting out a raspy, weak meow that barely carried any sound. The anger inside me boiled over completely. “Brenda.” I turned back to face her. “Where did those daily photos you sent me actually come from?” She stammered, “I took them myself, of course.” “The water bowl is empty, the litter box is disgusting, and you have the nerve to tell me you’ve been taking care of him?” Brenda knitted her brows. “Cats are naturally fussy creatures. I’m a housekeeper, not a vet.” I stood up. “All of you, pack your things and get out of my apartment right now.” Fiona let out a sharp laugh. “Where are we supposed to go in the middle of the night? Besides, my mother’s contract isn’t even over yet.” I glared at her. “The contract was to hire her for work, not to hand my home over to your entire family.” Brenda plopped herself down on the sofa, slapping her thighs dramatically. “Oh, listen to this young man! He changes his mind faster than the weather! Before he left, he was all smiles, telling me to treat the place like my own and take whatever I needed. Now he comes back and kicks us out onto the street.” She pulled out her phone. “I have the voice message right here!” I watched her coldly. She pressed play on the message. It was a clip I had sent the day I departed. “Brenda, thanks for watching the place. The cat food is in the cabinet, feel free to use the food in the fridge, and let me know if you need anything else.” Brenda held the phone up high. “You all heard it. He said it himself, to treat the place like my own.” I looked at her face. In that moment, I realized something. This woman wasn’t confused. She knew exactly what she was doing. I dialed the number for Mr. Dale, the manager at Aegis Home Care. Once the call connected, I said only one thing: “The housekeeper you sent me moved her entire family into my home.” There was a long silence on the other end. “Mr. Cole, please calm down. I’ll be over right away.” Next, I called the building management office. Twenty minutes later, Mr. Gould, the building manager, arrived with two security guards. Ten minutes after that, Mr. Dale arrived. When he stepped through the door and saw the crowd in the living room, he froze. But he quickly forced a professional smile. “Mr. Cole, I’m sure there has been a misunderstanding here.” I pointed at the slippers on Fiona’s feet. “A misunderstanding that involves wearing my personal shoes?” I pointed toward the master bedroom. “A misunderstanding that involves sleeping in my bed?” Finally, I pointed to the balcony. “A misunderstanding that leaves my cat severely neglected?” Mr. Dale’s smile faltered. Brenda stood up immediately. “Mr. Dale, you have to be fair here. I was terrified staying in this huge place alone. I just had my daughter and her husband come over to keep me safe. What is wrong with that?” Mr. Dale nodded slowly. “Brenda is older, and working in an unfamiliar environment can be stressful.” I looked at him. “Does your contract state that stress justifies moving an entire family in?” Mr. Dale cleared his throat. “A contract is just paper. In reality, we have to show a little human decency.” “Decency?” I scrolled to section six of the digital contract and shoved the screen in front of his face. “The service provider shall not bring any unauthorized individuals into the client’s residence. Any violation of this clause gives the client the right to terminate the contract immediately and seek full damages.” Mr. Dale glanced at it and gave a strained laugh. “Mr. Cole, let’s not get bogged down in the fine print. The most important thing is finding a solution.” “And what is your solution?” He said, “It is very late. How about we let Brenda’s family stay just for tonight, and I will personally oversee their departure tomorrow morning?” I laughed, utterly incredulous. “I return to my own home, and I am the one who has to accommodate them for the night?” Fiona chimed in from the side. “You can stay here too if you want. There are plenty of rooms.” I looked at her. “Where are you sleeping?” “The master bedroom.” “And where am I supposed to sleep?” Fiona shrugged. “The guest room is perfectly fine.” I turned to Mr. Dale. “Did you hear that?” Mr. Dale quickly hissed, “Fiona, keep your mouth shut.” Brenda added, “Ed, you’re just one person. What difference does it make? We have a child with us. You can’t expect us to sleep on the floor.” I asked her, “Did you ask for my permission before you slept in my bed?” She grumbled, “I kept it clean for you.” I walked over to the master bedroom door. The bed was covered in their rummaged blankets, and Brenda’s reading glasses lay on the nightstand next to a half-empty mug of tea with dried stains. My closet doors were wide open. My clothes were hung haphazardly, completely out of order. My robes, coats, and cashmere scarves had all been moved. On the vanity, my expensive skincare jars had deep finger gouges in them, and several replacement blades for my razor were missing. I turned around to face Greg. He avoided my gaze. “What are you looking at me for?” “Who used my things?” Greg crossed his arms. “You have so much stuff. Are you really going to accuse us of stealing just because a few minor things are missing? Do you have any proof?” Just then, the little boy ran over, holding my iPad. “Dad, it died!” I snatched the iPad from his hands. There was a fresh, jagged crack running down the edge of the screen. I took a deep breath. A quiet voice in my head kept reminding me to stay calm, not to do anything stupid, and not to escalate things physically. I turned to Mr. Gould, the building manager. “You are witnessing this. As the homeowner, I am demanding that these unauthorized people leave immediately.” Mr. Gould looked at Brenda, then at me, looking deeply uncomfortable. “Mr. Cole, technically, this is your property, and they have no right to stay here. However, since you let the housekeeper in yourself, we as building management cannot physically force her family out.” “If you can’t force them out, I’m calling the police.” When Fiona heard this, her voice shrilled. “Go ahead and call them! My mother worked herself to the bone for you, and now you’re trying to intimidate us?” Brenda started to sob, wiping her dry eyes. “I worked like a dog for him, and the moment he gets back, he calls the police on me. Mr. Dale, look at this! Who would ever want to work for a client like this?” I said, “I hired you for eighteen days. Today is day sixteen. I paid you over a hundred and fifty dollars a day. Did you take care of the cat? Did you clean the apartment? You moved your family in and now you’re playing the victim?” Mr. Dale stepped between us. “Mr. Cole, let’s not make things so extreme. Brenda didn’t mean any harm. Her family is just going through a bit of a rough patch.” “What kind of rough patch?” Fiona sneered. “Our apartment is being renovated, and we had nowhere to stay. This place was sitting empty, and since my mom was working here anyway, what is the big deal?” I stared at her. “So you planned this from the very beginning.” Fiona realized she had let too much slip and shut her mouth. But Greg remained arrogant. “It is not like we stayed for free. My mother was working for you.” I pulled out my phone and dialed the emergency line. Mr. Dale’s expression finally crumbled. “Mr. Cole, please, there is no need to involve the police.” I looked at him. “Actually, there is.” Two officers arrived fifteen minutes later. One was a seasoned officer in his late forties, and the other was a younger deputy. I showed them the contract, the payment receipts, and my chat history with Brenda. Then, I guided them through the apartment, showing them the state of the rooms. The older officer listened quietly, then turned to Brenda. “Are you the hired housekeeper?” Brenda wiped her face, sniffled, and said, “Yes, I am. I came here to work. Before he left, he told me to treat the place like my own, so I thought it would be fine to have my daughter stay with me for a couple of days. I didn’t mean anything by it.” The officer asked, “How long have your daughter, son-in-law, and grandson been living here?” Brenda went silent. Fiona mumbled, “Just a couple of days.” I interrupted. “My smart lock logs show they entered the second night after I left. Today is day sixteen.” Fiona glared at me. “You actually tracked that?” “It is my lock, on my door. Why wouldn’t I track it?” The officer turned back to Fiona. “The homeowner does not consent to your presence. You need to pack your things and leave.” Fiona grumbled, “It is too late to find a place tonight.” The officer checked his watch. “It is nine-forty. It is not that late.” Greg, holding the crying child, tried to push back. “Our kid has preschool tomorrow morning. Where are we supposed to go?” I had tried to hold back, but I couldn’t help myself. “Is his preschool located inside my master bedroom?” Greg’s face flushed red. “Why are you so incredibly petty?” Suddenly, Brenda grabbed her chest. “Oh, my head. I feel dizzy.” Mr. Dale immediately supported her. “Brenda! Are you okay?” Brenda collapsed onto the sofa, her voice suddenly weak. “My blood pressure is spiking. I can’t take this kind of stress.” I watched her dramatic display, my heart turning completely cold. This wasn’t her first time putting on a show. She was far too practiced at it. The older officer frowned. “If you are unwell, we can call an ambulance.” Brenda waved her hands frantically. “No, no need. Just let me rest for a moment.” Mr. Dale turned to me. “Mr. Cole, look at her. Forcing them to move out tonight is simply unrealistic. Tomorrow morning. Tomorrow morning at ten, I will personally come back and make sure they leave.” I asked the officer, “Can we put that in writing?” The older officer nodded. “We can write up an official incident report. The family must vacate the premises by ten tomorrow morning, the housekeeping services are terminated, and any further disputes regarding fees or damages must be resolved through civil channels or legal proceedings.” Fiona muttered under her breath, “Unbelievable. What a drama queen.” The officer shot her a sharp look. “Do you have something else to say?” Fiona shut her mouth. Once the report was signed, Brenda reluctantly gave me the new passcode she had set. I stood at the door and tested it. The lock clicked open. “Why did you change the code in the first place?” I asked. Brenda’s eyes darted around. “The kid was playing with it and locked us out. My son-in-law had to reset it.” I looked at Greg. He kept his head down, pretending to be absorbed in his phone. I went inside and immediately put Milkshake into his carrier. Brenda panicked. “If you’re taking the cat, how are we supposed to settle the remaining service fee?” I looked back at her. “You actually think you deserve to be paid?” Her face went pale. I went into the study to grab my passport and laptop. I noticed fresh scratches around the handle of the study door. I pulled open the desk drawer. My passport was there, and the property deed was untouched. The black metal security cabinet in the corner of the room appeared undisturbed. Inside that cabinet were several high-end camera lenses, two luxury watches, and a designer leather bag. These were professional equipment and display samples left over from a photography project I had worked on with my friend, Marcus. They were fully insured, complete with invoices and serial numbers, and I kept them in the locked cabinet for safekeeping. I had made sure to double-lock the cabinet before leaving. I touched the lock, feeling a small sense of relief that it was still secure. However, I noticed that the two security cameras in the living room had been unplugged. I turned to Brenda. “Who unplugged the cameras?” She said defensively, “Those little red lights keep blinking. It is creepy.” “The contract clearly states that there are active security cameras in the common areas, including the living room and the study.” She replied righteously, “I’m an old woman. Being watched like a prisoner in a house where I work is simply too much to ask.” I didn’t bother arguing. But what she didn’t know was that there was a third camera hidden inside a dummy smoke detector on the study ceiling. It had been installed a couple of years ago after a pipe burst, and it ran on an independent battery. Its lens pointed directly at the study entrance and the metal security cabinet. It was listed in the contract’s technical disclosures, but they clearly hadn’t bothered to read it. Holding Milkshake’s carrier in one hand and dragging my suitcase with the other, I left my own apartment. Behind me, Brenda called out, “Ed, we’ll be gone by ten tomorrow. Don’t worry.” I didn’t look back. I checked into a hotel right outside the residential complex. At the veterinary clinic, the doctor took one look at Milkshake and diagnosed him with severe dehydration and mild gastroenteritis. “Has his water intake and litter box usage been abnormal lately?” the vet asked. I nodded. “Who was watching him?” “Someone I paid a lot of money to,” I said quietly. The vet sighed. “We need to put him on an IV immediately.” I sat in the clinic corridor, watching Milkshake curl up inside the metal cage with a needle in his tiny paw. I had paid three thousand dollars for peace of mind. Instead, I got a house full of freeloaders and a sick cat. The next morning, I arrived at my apartment building at nine-fifty. Mr. Gould, the building manager, was already waiting for me. Mr. Dale, the agency manager, was nowhere to be seen. I called him. He took a long time to answer. “Mr. Cole, I’m stuck in an emergency meeting. Why don’t you talk to Brenda first? I’ll be there as soon as I can.” I didn’t waste my breath. I hung up. At exactly ten o’clock, I entered the passcode Brenda had given me the night before. Access Denied. I tried it again. Still incorrect. Mr. Gould frowned. “They changed it again?” I called Brenda. No answer. I called Fiona. She picked up, her voice sounding lazy and unbothered. “What do you want?” “Open the door.” “My mother is feeling unwell today. We can’t move out.” “The police report signed last night clearly states you must vacate by ten o’clock.” “Then go complain to the police,” she sneered. “Open the door,” I repeated, my voice dropping. Fiona chuckled. “Mr. Cole, don’t be so aggressive. We are willing to leave, but you need to settle my mother’s outstanding fees first.” “I paid the agency in full before I left.” “That is between you and the agency. My mother watched your apartment, and the rest of us helped out. We are charging for overnight house-sitting, moving expenses, and lost wages. It comes out to twenty-five hundred dollars.” I almost laughed out loud. “You occupied my apartment, and now you want me to pay for your moving expenses?” Fiona said smoothly, “You live in such a massive apartment, surely you can afford a little pocket change.” I glanced at Mr. Gould. He was staring at his shoes, pretending he was invisible. I spoke into the phone. “I am giving you ten minutes. If that door isn’t open, I am calling the police again.” Fiona’s tone turned ice-cold. “Calling the police won’t do anything. This is a labor dispute. Do you really think the cops are going to physically throw us out?” She hung up. I stood outside the door, my hands turning cold. Just then, Mr. Dale sent me a text message: Mr. Cole, Brenda really is quite ill today. Please show some understanding. They aren’t trying to steal your apartment. As soon as she feels better, they will leave. I replied: If they are not out by noon, I am taking legal action. He waited several minutes before replying: Escalating things like this will only make it harder for everyone. I stared at his message. Surprisingly, a strange calm washed over me. Harder for everyone? They had locked me out of my own home and changed my passcodes. How much worse could it possibly get? By noon, they still hadn’t left. At three in the afternoon, I went back up with Mr. Gould. Inside, I could hear the television blaring and the sound of the little boy laughing. I pressed the doorbell. No one answered. I banged on the door. Fiona’s voice came from inside. “Stop knocking! The baby is taking a nap!” “Open the door,” I demanded. The door opened just a crack, held in place by the security chain. Fiona showed half of her face. “I told you, we can’t move today.” “Did you touch any of my belongings?” I asked. She laughed mockingly. “Who cares about your expensive junk?” “If a single item inside the study cabinet is missing, I will file a grand theft report with the police.” Her expression flickered for a fraction of a second, but she quickly recovered. “Who are you trying to scare?” The door slammed shut. I didn’t leave. I walked down one flight of stairs using the emergency exit, then doubled back quietly through the fire escape stairwell. The fire door on the twenty-third floor had poor sound insulation. They must have assumed I had left because they hadn’t closed their door all the way. Muffled voices drifted down the concrete hallway. “I listed those watches on a resale platform,” Greg was saying. “Someone already messaged asking if they can meet in person to inspect them.” “Don’t sell the watches first,” Fiona replied. “They’re too obvious. There are two jade pendants in the study cabinet that look expensive. Take those to a pawn shop first, it is faster.” Brenda’s voice was hushed. “He looked at that cabinet yesterday. Don’t touch things too recklessly.” Fiona sighed impatiently. “He is just a kid, what can he do? A few threats and he folds like paper.” Then, I heard Mr. Dale’s voice. “Just don’t make it too obvious. If he files a complaint, I can stall things on my end. I’ll just say the service contract hasn’t officially concluded and there is a dispute over the fees.” Brenda spoke up. “And what if he calls the cops again? What can the cops do? I’m over sixty. If I collapse on the floor, who would dare touch me?” Greg laughed. “Mom, your act yesterday was brilliant.” The group chuckled together. Fiona added, “We might as well stay until the end of the month. He has plenty of money to stay in hotels. Let him sweat.” Mr. Dale warned them, “If you’re going to sell those things, find a local buyer who deals in cash. Don’t leave a digital trail.” “Don’t worry,” Greg said. “I’m using a burner account.” I stood behind the fire door, my fingertips turning completely numb as I listened. They had never intended to leave. The sudden illness, the child’s preschool, the lack of options, it was all a coordinated lie. I held my phone up, recording every single word until their laughter faded into the concrete. A burning, white-hot anger flared in my chest. I had tried to be civil. I had given them warnings, involved building management, brought in the police, and tried to reason with them through our contract. And they thought I was a pushover. They called me a weak kid. They thought they had all the cards, and that I was the one who would crack first. I turned around, walked down the stairs, and dialed Marcus’s number as soon as I reached the courtyard. “Marcus, I need a favor.” “Name it,” he said, his voice instantly alert. “Send me everything you have on that studio gear, the sales contracts, the receipts, the serial numbers, and the insurance policies. And get your lawyer on the phone. I want him to go over the evidence with me tonight.” Marcus paused. “Did something happen?” I looked up at the warm light glowing from the twenty-third floor. My voice was barely a whisper. “Some people moved into my home, and I am going to make them regret the day they were born.” Marcus swore under his breath. “Don’t worry,” I said, a cold, quiet anger settling deep in my chest. “If they think I’m soft, let’s see how far they stretch their hands.”

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1 I had always been cool by nature, yet I married a CEO with a dangerously high appetite. The latest time I turned down his attempt to get close, I saw floating comments appear in front of me. [Three years of marriage, and this ice-queen supporting wife has never once let the male lead eat his fill.] [He’s taking another cold shower. If he’d married the siren-bodied heroine, I can’t even imagine how well-fed he’d be.] [The siren heroine has already been hired as the CEO’s secretary. She starts tomorrow. His good days are finally coming.] [The male lead met with a divorce attorney today. He wants the divorce done fast, and this supporting wife is still working in the study. I’m dying.] I put down the file in my hand, got up, and knocked on the bathroom door. The sound of running water stopped. Nathaniel Cross’s voice came out rough. “Something wrong?” Nervous, but still polite, I asked, “I’m done with work. Can I… shower with you?” The bathroom went silent for a few seconds. I thought that was his wordless rejection and was about to turn away. Then the bathroom door opened a crack. Nathaniel’s hand reached out, caught my wrist, and pulled me inside. Before I could react, my back was against the bathroom door. His handsome face was inches from mine. “Are you serious?” His narrow eyes studied me like prey. My gaze landed on his strong chest. Lower were the hard lines of his abs, water sliding down the grooves before disappearing beneath the towel at his waist. Remembering how intense he had always been, I started to feel a little scared. I stammered, “If you’re already done, you can go out first…” From the corner of my eye, I saw the faintest curve of his lips. His hand settled on my waist. Heat darkened his gaze. “I can help you.” The comments drifted past. [She’s playing hard to get again.] [The male lead is already at the edge.] [She delivered herself to his door. That’s not just fuel to the fire. That’s a whole matchstick factory.] [No way he lets her leave.] [Hehe. Tonight she probably won’t have the strength to walk out of that bathroom herself.] [Being carried out works too.] [And they can keep going on the way…] [She won’t pass out like last time, right?] [He has the stamina for it.] I shivered. I had taken the initiative with Nathaniel before. On our first wedding anniversary, I happened to have the day off. On a whim, I prepared a candlelit dinner for him. I even scattered rose petals in the bathtub. That night, Nathaniel was passionate. I passed out afterward. I had only wanted a glass of water. Nathaniel could drown me with an entire ocean. Since then, I had not dared to be too forward with him. 2 After seeing those comments, I was afraid of repeating the past. But the comments said Nathaniel had met with a divorce attorney today. He wanted to divorce me as soon as possible. Our marriage had been arranged by our parents. My father had once done Nathaniel’s father a great favor. At first, Nathaniel had not wanted his family interfering with his marriage. I heard that when his father died, he had considered breaking off the engagement. It was Old Mr. Cross who stepped in and forced the arrangement to remain. The Cross family was old money at the very top. My family was comfortable, but ordinary by comparison. Marrying into the Cross family was undeniably marrying up. Fortunately, Nathaniel treated me well after the wedding. Probably to repay that old debt. I was a botanist. To make it easier for me to observe plant growth patterns, Nathaniel had once waved his hand and given me an entire private ridge after we married. The ridge was full of rare plants and medicinal herb fields. Nathaniel spent a fortune building me a laboratory there, along with a small courtyard house that belonged only to me. As Mrs. Cross, I never had to worry about daily trivialities. I could devote myself fully to the plant research I loved. So I did not want to divorce him. If we divorced, he would probably take back the ridge. Where else would I find a husband who could casually gift me a mountain? Besides, Nathaniel was young, handsome, and built like a dream. If my future child had such an excellent father, that child would already be winning at life. These three years, I really had neglected him. If he wanted a divorce because our marriage lacked intimacy… Then I could try to be a little more proactive. 3 An hour later, Nathaniel carried me out of the bathroom and gently placed me on the bed. I was so tired it felt like I was lying on a cloud. Exhausted, I said good night. “Good night.” Nathaniel paused, then bent down and touched my cheek. “That’s it? You’re sleepy already?” I nodded and said seriously, “Mm. I came back from the ridge today. I’m tired. You should sleep early too.” Nathaniel stared at me for a moment, looking like he wanted to say something but held it back. At last, with both tenderness and disappointment, he said, “All right. You sleep first.” I closed my eyes, refusing to look at the desire still burning in his gaze. I had already been very proactive just now. That should be enough, right? The comments filled my vision. [Is she blind? Can’t she tell he’s still unsatisfied?] [She changed, but only a tiny bit. Nowhere near enough.] [Does she misunderstand the male lead’s strength?] [What Nathaniel did just now was basically a warm-up.] [He was ready for a marathon, and she already crossed the finish line?] [She gave him appetizers and soup. The main course hasn’t even started. How could he be full?] [If he’d married the siren heroine, tonight would’ve been a feast.] [What a waste. Such a fierce male lead married this cold supporting wife.] [Ivy is always on that ridge. Sometimes she stays there half a month without going home.] [Every time, Nathaniel has to drive up there to find her.] [Even when he does, she still puts work first.] [She throws herself into the lab and leaves him alone in the courtyard.] [And she constantly refuses him because she’s tired.] [When she’s busy, she can go three months without feeding him.] [People get paid monthly. She’s out here giving him quarterly bonuses.] [Any normal man would lose it, let alone a high-demand man like him.] [If I were him, I’d divorce her too.] [Don’t sleep, supporting wife. The male lead has enough energy to last until dawn.] Maybe I had always been naturally indifferent toward desire. That one hour in the bathroom had truly been enough for me. I had no strength left to keep Nathaniel company until morning. I thought that once I slept, I could make it up to him after I woke up. With that thought, the guilt in my chest faded a little. The moment my head touched the pillow, I fell asleep. Half-asleep, I felt a pair of large hands pull the blanket over me. I turned over and kept sleeping. Nathaniel watched my sleeping face for a long time. Long enough for the moonlight outside to be swallowed by clouds. Long enough for the light in his eyes to fade completely. Then I heard him say, “Ivy, let’s get divorced.” 4 I opened my eyes and looked at Nathaniel. His expression was dark and heavy. It looked like he had already made up his mind. Maybe because the comments had spoiled it early, I did not show much shock. I rubbed my eyes and asked quietly, “Can we talk about it tomorrow?” The disappointment on Nathaniel’s face deepened. “Fine.” He got up and went to the study. The comments appeared again. [I’m done. This woman has no heart.] [Nathaniel brings up divorce, and she says talk tomorrow.] [With that attitude, she might as well write “I don’t care” on her face.] [He must be completely disappointed now.] [Nathaniel married her to repay the previous generation’s debt anyway. He never loved her.] [After the divorce, he can feast with the siren heroine.] [For Nathaniel, the sooner he leaves, the sooner he’s free.] The comments were twisting my meaning. It was not that I did not care. Last night, I had worked late in the lab and only returned to the courtyard at six in the morning. I slept for four hours before my colleague, Rowan Pierce, called and woke me. Recently, we had been researching a special vine. Anyone pricked by its thorns would squeeze out pale blue blood. Their body would become unbearably hot, similar to being affected by an aphrodisiac. It could even become addictive. After being pricked once, people wanted to prick themselves again. After repeated exposure, their constitution would begin to change. We named it siren vine. We did not know how many people had already been pricked. Our current project was to extract the vine’s special components and develop an antidote. Rowan said over the phone that he had discovered something important. So I got up and rushed to the lab, then threw myself into the experiment. I worked until six in the evening before driving back to the Cross estate. After dinner, I went to the study to read papers and references. The fact that I had not fallen asleep in the bathroom was already impressive. At that moment, not even the sky falling could stop me from sleeping. The comments kept going. [Fine, fine, you’re noble, you’re cool.] [Career first, male lead second.] [To be fair, Ivy having ambition is good.] [But Nathaniel needs someone who provides emotional value.] [So they’re fundamentally incompatible.] [This marriage was forced together. Both of them are tired.] [Nathaniel has had enough of being neglected.] [He’s drafting the divorce agreement in the study right now.] [Ivy can go marry her laboratory.] Even my dreams were full of experiments. I dreamed that just as I was about to develop the antidote, the lab door slowly opened. Nathaniel’s bodyguard took out a seal and pasted it across the door. With perfect respect, he said, “Mrs. Cross, Mr. Cross is reclaiming the ridge. The lab will be sealed. You have three days to move out.” The dream shifted. I hugged Nathaniel’s leg. “No, Nathaniel. Can you not divorce me? Can you not take back the lab?” In the dream, Nathaniel threw the divorce agreement onto my face and said coldly, “No.” 5 The next morning, the comments woke me up. [Hahaha, what kind of ridiculous dream was that?] [It’s kind of funny. In the dream, she actually hugged his leg and begged him.] [The contrast is wild.] [If she had that awareness in reality, Nathaniel wouldn’t be divorcing her.] [Nathaniel went to work at Cross Group early this morning.] [Before he left, he took the divorce agreement he drafted last night.] [This afternoon, he’s meeting Attorney Locke to discuss the divorce.] [Ivy finally gave herself a day off. Might as well pack and leave.] I rubbed my temples. Last night’s dream had indeed been dramatic. Nathaniel had always been generous. Even if we divorced, he probably would not cut things off that harshly. If we truly had to divorce, maybe I could try to negotiate for the lab. But I really did not want to leave. Nathaniel had always supported my career. He had also given me enough space to pursue the work I loved. I knew it would be hard to find a better partner. I also knew that during these three years, I had fallen for him. I made my decision. I would win him back. As long as I had not signed the divorce papers, there was still a chance. The comments cut in. [Probably no chance.] [The siren heroine is delivering coffee to him right now.] [She could tell at one glance he’s been starving for a long time.] [Men like that are the easiest to tease.] [The moment the heroine makes a move, the CEO’s office becomes their battlefield.] [Hehe, Nathaniel’s office has a private suite and bathroom.] [He prepared all kinds of tricks and props.] [But no matter how often he hinted, Ivy never went to his company.] [Now he can use all of that with the siren heroine.] [Top-tier soundproofing. They can be as wild as they want.] I shot out of bed. I decided to dress carefully and bring afternoon tea to Cross Group. 6 I made the desserts myself. The little cakes were decorated with flowers, fruit, and green leaves, full of spring. The comments drifted by. [Didn’t expect that. She actually made cakes for Nathaniel.] [The makeup, the dress, the cakes. There’s some sincerity here.] [Has she finally understood? This doesn’t look like she’s delivering afternoon tea.] [She’s delivering herself.] [Where was this effort before?] [She waits until he wants a divorce to start winning him back.] [Too late. The male lead and heroine are already burning up in the office.] I still trusted Nathaniel’s character. Even if he wanted a divorce, the process had not begun yet. He should be able to control himself. [Not necessarily.] [He can control himself around other women.] [But Sienna is the heroine of this story. Nathaniel’s heroine.] [When the male lead and heroine meet, there’s chemistry. You get it.] [Besides, Ivy knows how long it’s been since she let him enjoy himself.] I drove my SUV toward Cross Group. As soon as I entered the lobby and prepared to ask the front desk for directions, the receptionist recognized me. “You’re Mrs. Cross, right? I’ll call Mr. Cross now.” I paused. “You know me?” After all, it was my first time coming to Cross Group. The receptionist smiled and explained, “There’s a photo of you and Mr. Cross in the company culture display.” Then she dialed the CEO’s office extension. “Mr. Cross, hello. Mrs. Cross is here, on the first floor…” Nathaniel said on the other end, “Bring her up.” “Of course, Mr. Cross.” After hanging up, she led me to the CEO’s private elevator. The CEO’s office was on the ninth floor. The moment I stepped out, I saw Sienna Vale walking out of the office. She bumped straight into me, knocking the cake box from my hand. 7 Sienna was different from what I had imagined. She looked fair, clean, and innocent, with a pair of glasses perched on her nose. Though she wore office clothes, she looked like a fresh graduate who had just entered the workforce. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Sienna hurriedly picked up the cake box. Unfortunately, the cakes inside were ruined. Seeing that, Sienna looked like she was about to cry. “Mrs. Cross, I’m really sorry…” Before I could speak, the comments exploded. [Sienna didn’t do it on purpose. Ivy won’t make a scene, right?] [The cake fell, so what? Nathaniel doesn’t even like sweets.] [Even if it hadn’t fallen, he wouldn’t have taken a bite.] [Does Ivy think she’s above Sienna?] [After being Mrs. Cross for three years, she forgot where she came from?] [She won’t slap Sienna, will she?] [After all, Sienna is about to replace her as Mrs. Cross.] The comments were good at stirring trouble. Sienna and I had only just met. Before we understood each other, we should not treat each other as enemies. I ignored the comments and said to Sienna, “It’s fine. Please help me throw it away.” Sienna looked at the cake with visible regret. “What a shame. It was such a lovely cake.” The CEO’s assistant came to lead me in. “Mrs. Cross, Mr. Cross and Attorney Locke are inside. I’ll take you in.” The comments continued. [She actually didn’t make things hard for Sienna. Is she acting?] [Attorney Locke is the divorce lawyer Nathaniel hired.] [Either way, this divorce is basically set.] I entered the CEO’s office. Nathaniel and Attorney Locke were indeed discussing the divorce agreement. Nathaniel deliberately glanced at my hands. As if he had been expecting something. When he saw I was empty-handed, he quietly looked away. He said to Attorney Locke, “Please step outside for a moment. I need to speak with my wife alone.” “Of course, Mr. Cross.” Attorney Locke stood and brushed past me on his way out. 8 Only Nathaniel and I remained in the CEO’s office. He spoke slowly. “Ivy, are you here to talk about the divorce?” My gaze fell on the two copies of the divorce agreement lying on his desk. “You already drafted the agreement?” I picked one up and flipped quickly through it. He had already sorted out the agreement. If I said I did not want a divorce now, wouldn’t I only humiliate myself? According to the terms, if we divorced, I would receive two full pages of assets. I searched carefully. The only thing missing was the ridge and the lab. The things I wanted most. I spoke before thinking. “Why isn’t there…” Nathaniel lifted his eyes and finished for me. “Nothing you want most?” I nodded. “Exactly.” A hidden expectation appeared in his gaze. “Ivy, what do you want most?” “What I want most…” I was about to say the lab. But just as the words reached my mouth, I suddenly realized I could not say that. If I told him the lab was what I wanted most, Nathaniel would surely be disappointed. The comments were frantic. [Say it!] [Are the words “the lab” burning your tongue?] [As long as you say it, he’ll give it to you.] [You get what you want, give Nathaniel to Sienna, and everyone’s happy. Isn’t that great?] I knew why I had come today. I had come to win him back. I did not want to divorce Nathaniel. Not only because he had given me a ridge and a lab. I truly felt he was a good partner. So I turned the words around. “Nathaniel, what I want most… is you.” 9 Light appeared in Nathaniel’s eyes in an instant. He stepped toward me and pulled me tightly into his arms. He kissed my forehead, his voice trembling. “Ivy, I’ve been waiting for you to say that.” I let out a soft breath. He was surprisingly easy to coax. One sentence, and all his defenses fell away. Did that mean we did not have to divorce? The comments went wild. [Male lead, don’t believe her. She’s lying.] [She doesn’t love you. She’s sweet-talking you because she wants your money.] [Your heroine is waiting outside.] [Can you stop being fooled by her?] Nathaniel held me for a while, then took out his phone and called Attorney Locke. “Attorney Locke, you can head back. My wife and I…” A message came into my phone. I pulled out of his arms and opened it. Rowan: Ivy, the plant factor in the flower I found on the cliff may suppress the effects of the siren vine. Rowan: Unfortunately, this flower is about to wilt. I need your help. Rowan: [Image] Excitement shot through me. I immediately threw one sentence at Nathaniel. “Nathaniel, I need to go to the ridge. I won’t be back tonight. We’ll talk later.” Nathaniel was still on the phone with Attorney Locke. The words he had not finished were swallowed back. He caught my hand and asked gently, “Can you not go today?” If I did not go today, that flower would wilt. The follow-up research would be interrupted. Rowan had nearly risked his life climbing down a cliff to retrieve it. So far, we had found only one. Flowers had seasons. If the research was interrupted, we had no idea when we would find another. Reviving wilting plants had always been my specialty. The lab needed me. I had to go. “It’s important.” I removed his hand and asked seriously, “Didn’t you say you would support my career?” Nathaniel’s gaze turned possessive. “More important than me?” I coaxed him softly. “I’m sorry. I really can’t delay.” I thought I could make it up to him when I returned. This time, I would compensate him more. Until he was satisfied. But Nathaniel picked up one copy of the divorce agreement and handed it to me. With disappointment in his voice, he said, “Ivy, if you insist on leaving, sign this first.” 10 In my impression, Nathaniel had always been gentle and easy to talk to. He had never truly argued with me. This time, the possessiveness in his eyes grew darker. The comments appeared. [The male lead finally grew a backbone.] [Choose one. Career or the male lead.] Suddenly, I felt both sad and helpless. I was naturally cool and needed a partner who was not clingy. Nathaniel had high needs and needed someone who placed him first all the time. Neither of us was wrong. We simply were not suited. Maybe I really should return him to the heroine. I picked up the pen, signed the divorce agreement, and handed it to him. “If you want a divorce, then let’s divorce.” Nathaniel froze in place, his fingers whitening around the agreement. I opened the office door and walked out quickly. Behind me, Nathaniel’s gaze turned darker and colder. In the elevator, the comments filled my vision. [Wow, she finally signed the divorce agreement.] [With mutual consent, they can get the divorce certificate in a month.] [Nathaniel must feel awful right now.] [It’s fine. Sienna is there.] [Sienna will comfort him.] [She’s bringing him coffee right now. Perfect chance to take advantage of his pain.] [Our heroine didn’t mean to seduce him.] [But she has a siren constitution. When it flares up, it’s unbearable. She needs someone close.] Sienna had a siren constitution. I suddenly thought of something and wanted to ask Sienna for her contact information. Just before the elevator doors closed, I stepped out and turned back. To reach the CEO’s office, I had to pass through the secretarial area. Before I got close, I heard Sienna’s soft, alluring voice from inside. “Can I go to your place tonight?” I wanted to hear Nathaniel’s answer. Instead, I heard Sienna make a muffled sound. As if she had been kissed. I stopped walking. The comments were thrilled. [Nathaniel kissed Sienna. This progress is flying.] [So good. Love this.] [Why isn’t Ivy walking forward?] [Is she scared to see the thing she least wants to see?] [She abandoned Nathaniel first.] [Now that Sienna stole him, Ivy is reaping what she sowed.] Nathaniel had always respected me. Even when he could not help wanting to kiss me, he would first test with a light touch. Then he would ask, “Can I?” Only after I nodded would he deepen the kiss. Now, in front of Sienna, he finally did not have to restrain himself. I wanted to take one more step and see the truth. But a faint ache spread through my chest. If I saw it with my own eyes, wouldn’t it only hurt more? Emotional fluctuation would affect my experiments. I turned around, walked quickly into the private elevator, and left without looking back.

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After Reid Shaw’s childhood sweetheart climbed into his passenger seat again, I didn’t argue. I simply opened the back door and sat beside his best friend, Dr. Edward Wren. When the car jolted, my bare knee brushed against Edward’s firm thigh. I deliberately didn’t move away. Neither did he. At a rest stop, Kylie clung to Reid and dragged him toward the bathroom. The second the car door shut, Edward took the back of my neck and kissed me. As I melted under that kiss, one thought drifted through my mind. Question men. Understand men. Become men. Some truths really were eternal. 1 I hadn’t expected Edward to come on this short road trip. He was always busy. I nodded politely at him. Edward wore glasses, faint exhaustion lingering on his face. He lifted his eyes, glanced at me, nodded back, then closed his eyes again. Kylie buckled her seat belt in the front and turned back to flash me a smug little smile. “Selena, I get carsick, so I’ll sit up front, okay?” Reid looked back too. “Kylie gets sick in cars. Be generous for once. Don’t make a scene over tiny things all the time.” I gave a soft laugh. “Sure.” Reid seemed surprised, but he said nothing else. Because Kylie had already shoved a half-eaten piece of bread into his mouth. “It tastes bad. Ollie, eat it for me.” Reid ate it naturally, without even frowning. Kylie looked at me in the rearview mirror and stuck out her tongue. I ignored her and picked up a bottle of sparkling water. The cap was tight. I tried twice and couldn’t open it. In the front seat, Kylie was pushing her own bottle into Reid’s hand, whining. “Ollie, I really can’t open it. You know I’ve had weak hands since we were kids.” Reid looked pleased as he opened it for her. The two of them shared the bottle, taking turns drinking, without the slightest sense of boundaries. I felt a little sick. Just as I was about to put my bottle down, a man’s hand reached over and took it from me. Under the sleeve of his black casual blazer, a silver-gray shirt cuff wrapped neatly around his lean wrist. His hand was beautiful. Long fingers, clean nails, elegant bones. In the light reflected through the car window, they looked almost carved from pale jade. 2 Before I fully recovered, Edward had already opened the bottle and handed it back. The car stereo started playing at just the right moment. I accepted it and whispered, “Thank you.” Edward nodded faintly and closed his eyes again. He had probably just come off an overnight surgery. There were faint red lines in his eyes. I sipped the water as the car smoothly entered the main road. Kylie’s birthday was coming up. Reid had specially organized this short self-drive trip to celebrate properly. There were seven or eight of us, three cars in total, and the destination was a hot spring resort about sixty miles away. Not long after we started driving, Kylie practically pressed herself against Reid. The music was loud, so I couldn’t hear what they were saying. But I could tell they were happy. Recently, because of how far Reid and Kylie kept crossing the line, we had fought several times. Reid always promised he would be more careful next time. Then the next time Kylie appeared, he forgot everything. Suddenly, it all felt meaningless. I lowered my head and smiled at myself bitterly, then turned to look out the window. The mountain road twisted ahead. Loose stones occasionally dotted the narrow path. When the car bumped, my body tilted. My bare knee under my skirt brushed against Edward’s thigh. Firm. Warm. I instinctively wanted to pull away. Then I saw the reddish mark on the side of Kylie’s neck. Anyone could tell it was a kiss mark. Who had left it was obvious. In that instant, my heart hardened. I stopped moving. 3 Edward opened his eyes. He looked at me. I pretended to be perfectly calm and stared straight ahead, refusing to meet his gaze. But my knee, pressed against the outside of his thigh, quietly leaned closer. Only a thin layer of suit fabric separated us. I could clearly feel the heat and strength of his muscles. That warmth came in waves, sending tiny electric shocks through my nerves. My mouth went dry. I swallowed and reached for the water again. The cold water slid down my throat, calming some of the panic and restlessness. It also made me suddenly clear-headed. Edward had not moved away either. He was letting me stay pressed against him. My heart seemed to stop for several seconds, then began beating faster and faster, almost out of control. Just then, the car suddenly swerved. Kylie cried out in the front seat. “That scared me, Ollie.” She patted her chest repeatedly, then praised him in a soft voice. “But you reacted so fast.” “If you hadn’t turned the wheel, that rock would’ve hit the car.” Reid immediately laughed. “See? My driving skills are pretty good, right?” Kylie leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Ollie is amazing. Kiss kiss.” “Stop it.” Reid at least remembered that his girlfriend was still in the back seat. He pretended to glare at Kylie. “How old are you? Still acting like a kid. Selena is right there.” Kylie widened her eyes, once again looking innocent and pure. “Selena, Ollie and I grew up together. I treat him like my actual brother. You don’t mind, right?” I pulled a blanket over myself and smiled coldly. “Do you kiss your actual brother like that at home too?” Kylie instantly looked hurt. “Ollie, see? I told you Selena doesn’t like me.” “Maybe I shouldn’t go after all. I don’t want to upset her.” Reid frowned at once. “That’s enough, Selena. You’re two years older than Kylie. Can’t you be more mature?” “She’s always been childish. Why say something so cruel?” At that moment, I didn’t even have the strength to argue. He wanted me to be generous? Fine. I only hoped that in the future, he could be generous too. 4 Under the blanket, my leg pressed more tightly against Edward’s. During another small bump, my knee and calf brushed over him again. Then Edward’s warm, slender hand suddenly caught my thigh. His palm pressed against my cool skin. Heat invaded me steadily. For a brief second, every sense seemed magnified a thousand times. I could even feel the thin calluses on the fingers that held scalpels for a living. The faint scrape of his fingertips across my skin. I couldn’t help glancing at him. Only a quick look. Yet I saw that he was still sitting upright, perfectly composed, his shirt collar buttoned neatly. But his Adam’s apple rolled hard. His profile was sharp and smooth, almost painfully handsome. Enough to make a heart stumble. 5 Edward was an outsider in Reid’s circle. If he weren’t distantly related to Reid through some complicated family connection, a quiet, cold, obsessively clean man like him would never mix with this group. After I started dating Reid, I naturally met Edward too. But every time we saw each other, we only nodded and exchanged polite greetings. He liked silence and rarely spoke. His private life was as clean as blank paper. After group dinners, when the others played cards or went out to party, Edward usually left early. If he stayed, he sat alone on a corner sofa with his eyes closed, never joining the noise. Reid once joked about him. “My cousin is practically a monk. Pure as fresh snow.” “He’s twenty-seven, but I bet he’s never touched a woman.” “He’s gotten better this year, though. Invite him ten times and he’ll show up three or four.” “A few years ago? Forget it. You wouldn’t even glimpse him.” Actually, I had heard of Edward in college and seen him from afar a few times. To me, Edward was like the kind of dream many girls imagined when they first learned what wanting someone meant. A moon hanging high above. Impossible to reach. Edward and I had never interacted much. There were only two times when I went to the hospital because of breast pain and happened to book an appointment with him. I was embarrassed at first. But Edward was so professional that I quickly calmed down. I even secretly scolded myself. He was a surgeon. What hadn’t he seen? No matter how young or pretty I was, no matter how good my figure might be, to him I was probably only a patient. Even so, when he examined me, I still squeezed my eyes shut and flushed bright red. When I left, I wasn’t sure if I imagined it, or if the heating had been too high. But Edward’s ears had looked a little red too. 6 “Ollie, stop at the next rest area. I need the bathroom.” Kylie’s voice suddenly pulled me back. I bit my lip and tried to move my leg away. But Edward’s fingers tightened slightly. I lowered my lashes and didn’t dare move. The car stopped. Kylie immediately insisted that Reid accompany her. Reid looked back at me awkwardly. Edward suddenly said in a low voice, “She’s asleep.” Reid seemed to relax at once. “Edward, I’ll take Kylie to the bathroom. We’ll be back soon.” Edward hummed. The doors opened, then closed. Their laughter faded away. The car fell quiet. “Selena Frost.” Edward suddenly lifted the blanket from my legs. “You’re sweating. Aren’t you hot?” I lowered my head, too afraid to look at him. I grabbed the water bottle, trying to hide my embarrassment by drinking. But Edward took it away. “Don’t drink too much cold water.” “Did you forget my medical advice?” I didn’t know where the courage came from, but I suddenly looked up at him. “Maybe your medical skills aren’t that great, Dr. Wren.” His brows tightened. “How so?” “I took the medicine you prescribed and avoided everything you told me to avoid. But it still hurts.” His frown deepened. “It still hurts?” “It hurts a little even now.” I pressed my lips together and lifted my chin slightly. “Should I come in for another exam, Dr. Wren?” Outside the window, not far away, Kylie had her arm hooked through Reid’s. They were pressed so closely together there was barely any space between them. Reid pinched her cheek now and then, then rubbed the top of her head. They looked exactly like an intimate couple. The resentment and anger that had been trapped inside my chest for so long crashed around, searching for an exit. Somehow, I grabbed Edward’s hand. “Or maybe Dr. Wren should fulfill his duty now and check me himself?” 7 Just as Edward’s hand was about to reach my chest, he moved faster than I did. His strong fingers gripped the back of my neck. With only a slight pull, he brought me right in front of him. “Selena.” He lowered his eyes to look at me. I had to tilt my face up to meet his gaze. “Don’t tempt me here.” “Did I tempt you?” I boldly held his gaze and refused to back down. “Or is Dr. Wren so lacking in medical ethics that he can watch a patient suffer and do nothing?” Before I finished speaking, Edward removed his glasses, lowered his head, and kissed me. His scent surrounded me completely. Cool, faintly bitter, with that clean trace of disinfectant that seemed soaked into every inch of him. My eyes flew open. I instinctively wanted to push him away. But his hand held me tighter. I let out a small sound, and the moment my lips parted, he deepened the kiss. The air was slowly stolen from me. Dizziness washed over me. My legs softened first, then my whole body, as if my bones had been removed. Edward held my jaw and kissed me deeper and deeper, until the root of my tongue felt numb. At some point, my hands had gripped his shirt, wrinkling the neat fabric. Our breathing tangled. Tears gathered at the corners of my eyes. Then Edward suddenly stopped. I looked up at him, dazed and wanting, as if asking for another kiss. Asking for more. Edward smiled lightly and wiped the moisture from the corner of my lips. “Don’t be so impatient, Selena.” “Hm?” I stared at him, still foggy. Edward lowered his head and gave my swollen lips one brief kiss. His forehead touched mine. His voice sounded beside my ear, low and husky. “Only thirty more miles. When we arrive, I’ll give you…” 8 My ears rang. My body, already soft from his kiss, burned even hotter. I could hardly believe words like that had come from Edward Wren. My ears must have been red. The back of my neck was scorching. I lifted a hand to push him away, but Edward tilted his head and kissed my earlobe. “They’re coming back.” I startled and looked out the car window. Reid and Kylie were walking back, laughing together. I quickly pushed Edward away, sat back in my seat, pulled the blanket over myself, and pretended to still be asleep. But the second I closed my eyes, my swollen lips reminded me. I took out a compact mirror. My lips were visibly kissed, glossy and red, and my lipstick was smudged. It looked wrong from every angle. I glared at Edward. “This is your fault. My lips are swollen.” He leaned against the seat, slowly wiping his glasses. Then he lifted his eyes toward me and pointed somewhere. “Then who should I blame for this?” I looked instinctively and my eyes widened. “You… how are you…” How was his reaction that intense? Hadn’t Reid said he was pure, untouched, and uninterested in women? “Selena, I’m still a normal man.” Edward put his glasses back on and pushed the frame lightly. In only a second, the heat and sensuality from when he kissed me seemed sealed away again. He was once more the cool, restrained Dr. Wren. But that contrast made something darkly satisfied bloom in me. After all, who didn’t want to pluck the flower from the snowy peak? Who didn’t want to see a cold, abstinent man lose control, burn with desire, go mad for her? To ruin him beautifully? Question men. Understand men. Become men. Truly an eternal truth. Just before Reid and Kylie reached the car, Edward somehow produced a small packet of spicy snack sticks and handed it to me. “Open it. Don’t eat it. Just pretend.” “Why can’t I eat it? I love these.” “Junk food. No benefit.” “Occupational disease.” I muttered, unimpressed, and tore the package open to eat one. Edward took it away and tossed it straight into the car trash bag. The car door opened. The first thing Kylie did after getting in was look back at me. “Selena, what happened to your mouth?” I pointed calmly at the trash bag. “Ate a few spicy sticks. My lips swelled.” Kylie covered her mouth and laughed at Reid. “Ollie, if we didn’t know better, we might think Selena kissed someone so hard her lips got swollen.” 9 Reid looked at me. His brows drew together, suspicion slowly entering his eyes. But when he saw Edward sitting coldly beside me without saying a word, his expression eased. “What nonsense are you saying? Selena stayed in the car the whole time. Who could she kiss?” “Who knows?” Kylie said. “Maybe after we left, Selena went somewhere.” As soon as she said that, Edward lifted his eyes toward her. His voice was cold. “She slept in the car the whole time. She woke up five minutes ago. I can testify.” Kylie froze. “Edward…” Edward cut her off directly. “The Wren family and the Blake family are not close. Miss Blake and I are not close either.” Kylie’s face flushed red. She looked at Reid like she was about to cry. Reid glanced at Edward’s icy expression and, in the end, did not dare say a word. Kylie was deeply wronged, but there was nothing she could do. The Blake family still relied on the Shaws. And the Shaw family kept their heads lowered before the Wrens. She could only swallow it. But she still secretly glared at me through the rearview mirror. I knew it. This debt had been written under my name again. For the remaining thirty miles, Kylie stayed quiet. When we arrived at the hot spring resort, Kylie clung to Reid and insisted on sharing a suite with him. “Ollie, I’ve never slept alone at night. I’m really scared.” “It’s a suite anyway. The two bedrooms are separate. Selena won’t mind, right?” Kylie shook Reid’s arm. Reid looked at me helplessly. I only smiled faintly. “Then I’ll switch rooms with her. I like the garden.” Reid seemed guilty and lowered his voice to comfort me. “Selena, it’s Kylie’s birthday this time. Let’s just let her have her way.” “Next time I’ll take you on a trip alone to make it up to you, okay?” I nodded generously. “Sure.” “I’ll take your luggage to your room first.” Without waiting for me to nod, Reid carried my luggage to the room. When he left again, the expression on his face looked much more at ease. There was a gathering that evening. I returned to my room, showered, changed into a new dress, and slowly did a soft but seductive makeup look. I arrived a little late, and everyone was already there. In the crowded room, I spotted Edward sitting alone by the window at once. He had changed into a white shirt, still wearing his glasses, looking even colder and more restrained. When I walked in, he only glanced at me lightly. But the moment I looked away, I saw him lift one hand and undo the top button of his shirt. As if unintentionally, his long fingers brushed over his Adam’s apple. I lowered my eyes and bit my lip. My mind wandered. If I bit him there, what would he look like losing control? 10 “Wow, Selena, why are you dressed so beautifully tonight?” Kylie ran over and grabbed my arm, shaking it. Then she pouted unhappily. “But come on, it’s my birthday. Why are you stealing the birthday girl’s spotlight?” “Ollie, judge for me. Selena is bullying me again.” I looked at Kylie. She had clearly dressed up carefully too. To be fair, she really did look like a little princess tonight. But there was a saying. Sometimes cuteness was worth nothing in front of sensuality. My usual style was casual and simple. Tonight, on a whim, I had gone for something much more alluring. A burgundy strappy mini dress and matching lace-up heels. The dress made my skin glow. The straps winding around my calves made my legs look even longer and slimmer. When Reid looked at me, astonishment clearly flashed in his eyes. The others immediately started teasing. “Selena doesn’t dress like this often. That’s a knockout. Reid, you lucky bastard.” “Look at Reid. His eyes are practically glued to her.” Reid looked a little proud. But when he walked to me, he coughed lightly and spoke seriously. “Selena, it’s Kylie’s birthday today.” “If you want to dress up, wear whatever you like when we’re on a date.” “Why upset Kylie like this?” I looked at Reid standing in front of me. I could clearly feel the small amount of affection and attachment I had once had for him draining away fast. But I did not feel much pain. Nor much reluctance. “Selena, did you hear me?” Reid frowned. Yet his eyes remained on my body, never moving away. “What do you want me to do?” “Go back and change.” Reid held my arm lightly and pulled me toward a quieter corner, lowering his voice. “Selena, you’re two years older than Kylie. Let her have this.” I pushed his hand away and smiled. “What if I don’t want to?” Reid froze first. Then he gave a low laugh. “What right do you have to tell me you don’t want to?” “But I don’t.” “If you don’t, then let’s break up.” Anger and disdain gradually gathered on Reid’s handsome, arrogant face. He seemed certain that I would be afraid of breaking up. Certain that I would not dare. “Then let’s break up.” I pushed his hand away. “As you wish.” Reid suddenly smiled. It was cold and sarcastic. “Fine. Getting bold now, are you? Then get out.” I did not say a word. I turned, opened the door, and walked out. 11 I did not return to my room. I took a bottle of red wine to the small garden. With the comfortable evening wind blowing, I was on my second glass when I sent Edward a message. “Dr. Wren.” He replied quickly, as if he had been waiting for my message. “What’s wrong?” “My breast pain is back.” Edward did not reply. A few minutes later, he called. I leaned back in the chair. The mountain night wind was cool. Not far away, the crabapple blossoms had not yet closed for the night. I felt a little drunk. My vision and senses were blurred and slow. But Edward’s voice beside my ear was unbelievably clear. “Selena Frost, where are you?” “When you kissed me, you called me Selena. Now that the kiss is over, it’s Selena Frost again. Dr. Wren, you really do turn cold fast.” The voice on the other end paused for several seconds. He seemed to laugh softly. Then when he said my name again, his voice was gentle. “Selena, where are you?” “In the garden.” “Dr. Wren, are you coming?” 12 Edward took me to his room. He was not staying in the same building as us. Instead, he had a detached house deep in a bamboo grove. On the way there, I asked curiously, “Aren’t you afraid someone will see?” Edward held my hand and reminded me to watch the stone path beneath my feet. When I looked down, I saw our overlapping shadows stretched long by the moonlight. “This resort belongs to the Wren family. You don’t need to be afraid or worried.” “Who said I was afraid or worried?” Edward glanced at me. I stopped walking and looked straight at him. “Reid and I are already over.” “So what do I have to fear?” “When did you end it?” “Half an hour ago. You were there.” Edward said nothing. The moon was bright, the stars sparse, and bamboo shadows swayed around us. Patchy light moved over his handsome face. Standing there beneath the moon, he looked like a lean bamboo stalk. “Selena Frost.” He tightened his hold on my hand slightly and pulled me into his arms. “You’d better have ended it cleanly.” “And you’d better not go back to him.” The detached house had a large courtyard. As soon as we entered, Edward pressed me against the back of the gate. He held my face and kissed me deeply, heavily, urgently. Between breaths, his face rested against my neck, his breathing burning hot. My arms hooked around his neck, fingers sliding into his thick hair. “Dr. Wren…” “Mm.” “Have you kissed other women?” He turned and kissed my lips again, his breath unsteady, voice low. “No.” “So you’ve never been with a woman either?” Edward held my face. His thumb brushed the moisture at the corner of my mouth. “No.” He was very tall. Even in heels, I only reached his chin. My hands, originally buried in his hair, slowly moved from the back of his neck to the open collar of his shirt. When my soft fingers touched his Adam’s apple, his reaction was shocking. His throat moved hard, and the palms holding my face burned like fire. All the tangled emotions in my heart desperately searched for an outlet. Desperately wanted release. I closed my eyes and pressed a light kiss to his throat. His hands, which had been holding my face, suddenly slid into my hair, long fingers tightening. He held me closer, forcing my lips to stay against him. His breathing lost its rhythm entirely, but he still restrained himself, refusing to let even a faint sound escape. “Dr. Wren, did you forget your proper duty?” His slender fingers traced my face. He lowered his head and kissed the corner of my eye. “What duty?” “I’m in pain. Aren’t you going to examine me?” I took his left hand and guided it down. His fingers stopped over my heart. The moonlight was silver. My exposed skin was pale as frost. I lifted my face and clearly saw the desire darkening his eyes. Then my hand pressed over his, gradually adding pressure. “Dr. Wren, can we begin now?” 13 Edward’s palm was hot. The skin over my heart felt like it might be burned by him. His throat moved heavily. Under the desire in his eyes was a terrifying possessiveness, as if he wanted to swallow me whole. We were too close. I could clearly feel every change in his body. He was like a volcano, burning away my thoughts until nothing remained. But I had underestimated Edward’s patience and self-control. Even in that moment, he forced his hand away from me. I stared at him, stunned, helpless and a little hurt. “Not here.” Edward held me and kissed me again. “Shower first.” “Otherwise it isn’t clean. It’s not good for you.” Something in my chest trembled lightly. Even the cool mountain wind seemed to soften. At that moment, no one could have resisted him. When we entered and changed shoes, I hadn’t even bent down before Edward took out a new pair of slippers and crouched in front of me. A surgeon’s hands were famously dexterous. The complicated straps of my heels wrapped around my calves in neat crisscrossing lines. One gentle tug should have undone them. But he clumsily pulled twice. He held my ankle and carefully placed my foot into the soft slipper. I looked down and saw the broad line of his shoulders under his white shirt. Below, the shirt hem disappeared into his trousers, his waist narrow and lean. Maybe it was the wine, but I felt hot and thirsty. When he stood, I suddenly rose on tiptoe, hooked my arms around his neck, and kissed him first. From the entryway to the bathroom, we kissed the whole way. When the shower water fell, his shirt was already rumpled in my hands. The straps of my dress had slipped from my shoulders. Edward pressed me against the wall and kissed me fiercely. Steam filled the bathroom, swallowing everything. He seemed ready to swallow me too. “Selena.” But at the last moment, Edward suddenly caught my wrist and pulled me back. He brushed the wet hair from my temple and laced his fingers with mine. Between burning, ragged breaths, his voice was dark and hoarse. “Bedroom.” “Not here. It’ll make you uncomfortable.”

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1 After my wife helped me recover from my severe depression, a deep, gnawing anxiety settled in my chest. Every day, I would send her a message, asking if she still loved me. For the first ninety-nine times, no matter how swamped she was, Victoria would reply with quiet patience. But when I sent that question for the hundredth time, she finally snapped, firing back three brutal messages. Grant, are you really this idle? Clinging to me every day with these pathetic questions, has your mental illness relapsed? Do yourself a favor; if you have this much free time, take a good look at your own miserable face. I froze, staring at the screen. The next second, the messages were recalled, replaced by a brief audio note. “I’m sorry, Grant. My assistant had my phone and sent those by mistake. Please don’t take it to heart.” Whether it was a mistake no longer mattered. All I knew was that my marriage to Victoria was completely over. … I got up, drove to the travel agency, and started the paperwork to leave the country. By the time I returned home, the sky was pitch black. The living room lights were blazing, and Victoria was sitting on the sofa. Hearing the door open, she looked up, her brow furrowing into a tight line. “Where have you been? It is past midnight, and you haven’t answered a single call or text.” I didn’t say a word. I slipped on my house shoes and walked to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of water. She followed me with her eyes, her gaze lingering on my face for a few quiet seconds before she spoke again. “I already explained what happened this afternoon. My assistant grabbed the wrong phone.” “He already apologized to me, and I gave him a stern warning. It won’t happen again.” An assistant grabbing his boss’s highly secured personal phone by mistake? I let out a soft laugh, set my glass down, and finally looked at her. Victoria was undeniably beautiful. I had known that from the very first moment I laid eyes on her. At thirty-three, she looked far more radiant than most women her age. Sitting on the sofa in her silk loungewear, she looked like she had stepped straight out of a high-fashion magazine. I used to love looking at her, believing I could spend a lifetime doing nothing else. But tonight, I realized her beauty had absolutely nothing to do with me. She was like a gorgeous coat displayed in a luxury storefront; you could stare at it through the glass for years, convincing yourself it was yours, but you never actually held it in your hands. “Victoria,” I said, my voice steadier than I expected. “What was your assistant’s name again?” She hesitated. “Christian. Why?” “How long has he been working for you?” “About six months,” she said, before quickly adding, “Why are you cross-examining me? I told you it was a mistake. Is there any need to obsess over this? Can’t you just let it go?” Four defensive questions in a row. I ignored them, keeping my tone level. “I remember when he first started. You complained to me that he was clumsy and slow, nothing like the sharp, capable people you usually hire. After that, you stopped mentioning him. I assumed you had let him go.” “It turns out you kept him. And ever since he arrived, you’ve been working late almost every night, and your business trips have tripled.” Victoria’s frown deepened. “Grant, what exactly are you trying to say?” I offered a small smile. “I’m just stating the facts.” Her irritation flared, her voice turning sharp and dismissive. “Grant, did your mental illness really relapse? Are you seriously acting this paranoid over a few accidental text messages?” Mental illness. Those two words felt like a slender needle, driving straight into the center of my chest. How long had we been married? Four years. When I was twenty-two, my depression had returned with a vengeance, forcing me to flee my university abroad and return home in secret. At a party hosted by a mutual friend, I met Victoria. The moment I saw her, the heavy fog in my mind seemed to lift. I began to pursue her relentlessly. At first, she rejected me, claiming she had no interest in younger men. But I was stubborn. I laid my heart bare before her, buying flowers, selecting jewelry, and eventually proposing. People behind my back laughed, calling me a pathetic boy chasing an older, cold woman. But I didn’t care. I believed that loving someone meant being brave. Eventually, she relented. We dated for a year and got married. Throughout our four years of marriage, I was always the one pouring everything into the relationship. On the rare occasions she offered a crumb of affection, my entire world would light up. Then, a year ago, she insisted on taking me to a specialist. For twelve months, she traveled with me across the country, seeking every treatment until my depression was finally declared cured. I should have been thrilled, but instead, a cold dread began to take root in my mind. I became obsessed with asking if she loved me. She never actually used the word love, but she would reply with gentle promises to come home early. Until yesterday, when the personal phone she never allowed me to touch was used by another man to humiliate me. That was when the truth finally settled in. She had never truly cared. But it was fine. It was over now. I was simply too tired to keep loving her. Seeing my silence, she likely assumed I was backing down. She walked over to me, leaning down to wrap her arms around my shoulders. “Alright, let’s stop overthinking. I had the maid make some soup for you. Have a warm bowl, get some rest, and tomorrow morning I’ll take you out to…” “I want a divorce,” I said softly. She froze. Her arms remained suspended in mid-air, her body rigid. The apartment fell so quiet that the rhythmic ticking of the wall clock seemed to echo in the space. One. Two. Three. Slowly, she pulled back, standing tall as she looked down at me with a cold, mocking laugh. “What did you just say?” 2 I met her gaze, speaking clearly. “I said, I want a divorce.” Victoria’s composure began to crack. In the five years I had known her, I had almost never seen her lose her temper. She was always composed, her emotions as steady and calculated as a high-precision machine. But right now, the gears were grinding to a halt. I watched her, finding the sight oddly novel. “You want a divorce over three accidentally sent text messages?” she asked, her voice tight. I kept a light, empty smile on my face. “Yes.” “Grant!” She barked my name, letting out a frustrated laugh. “I told you it was a mistake! Are you deaf?” I shrugged. “I know.” “You know?” Her voice climbed a register, her eyes flashing with a sudden, angry red. “You know, and you’re still demanding a divorce? Have you completely lost your mind?” “Grant, you are clearly just too bored.” She had never shouted at me like this before. Whenever we had minor disagreements in the past, she would simply go cold and silent, waiting for me to bow my head and apologize first. I burst into a genuine laugh. “Victoria, look at you. You actually know how to get angry. You actually know how to look desperate. I spent years thinking the only tool in your box was giving me the cold shoulder.” She stared at me, stunned, before her hand shot out, gripping my jaw with bruising force. Her eyes burned with fury. “Grant, have you had enough of this tantrum? I told you I didn’t send those messages! Why won’t you believe me?” “Isn’t this what you wanted? You keep asking if I love you. Fine! I love you! Are you happy now?” “If you’re feeling insecure, we can go to the bedroom right now. I’ll make love to you until you’re satisfied, alright?” Without waiting for a response, she leaned down and bit my lip. In our entire relationship, she had never initiated a kiss. Even during our most intimate moments, I was always the one reaching for her. There was a time when I would have given anything for her to be this desperate for me. But right now, I felt only a deep, oily wave of disgust. I bit down on her lip, hard. She gasped in pain, flinching away from me. I stared up at her, my own eyes burning. “If you want to sleep with someone, go find someone else. Your little assistant looks like he is practically begging for it.” Victoria gasped. “What did you say?” “I said, go find another man to crawl into bed with. Don’t touch me with those hands. You disgust me, Victoria. You make my skin crawl.” She stared at me, her gaze sharp enough to pierce bone. Three seconds passed in suffocating silence before a cold, vicious smile spread across her face. “Fine. Since you are so generous, I’ll do exactly what you want.” “Don’t you dare regret this. And don’t you dare come crawling back to me on your knees!” She spun on her heel, slamming the front door behind her with a deafening crash. The apartment fell silent once more. I stared at the closed door, and the tears I had been holding back finally spilled over. I slumped against the kitchen counter, sobbing until my chest ached. It was as if I were crying out every ounce of humiliation and neglect I had endured over the last four years. I won’t regret this, Victoria. And I will never beg you again. I wiped my face with the back of my hand and dialed a familiar number. “Valerie. Pull our family’s Wall Street funding from Victoria’s firm. Every single cent.” 3 Victoria did not return that night. The next morning was Saturday, and she had no reason to be at the office. I didn’t know where to find her to get her signature on the divorce papers, but my phone solved that problem for me. A notification popped up, followed by a frantic voice note from my best friend, Beatrice. “Grant! Oh my god, isn’t this your high-and-mighty wife?” “I was shopping at Bellevue Square and I saw her with some guy! She literally knelt down in the middle of the mall to tie his sneakers!” “Are you kidding me? You guys have only been married for four years and she is already parading her side piece in public? What a shameless parasite! I swear to god, I am going to ruin both of them!” I clicked on the video link she sent. In the high-definition footage, Victoria, the woman who always held herself above everyone else, was kneeling on the polished floor, patiently tying the laces of a young man’s designer sneakers. The young man was filming her with his phone, laughing, and she looked up at him with a helpless, fond smile. A sharp, familiar pain pricked my heart. I had asked her to do things like that for me in the past, but she had always looked down at me with cool disdain, letting me embarrass myself until I made an excuse to change the subject. I pinched the bridge of my nose and texted Beatrice back. We are getting a divorce. A second after sending the text, an unknown number called my phone. “Hello, is this Grant Mercer? Your wife and her friend have been involved in a physical altercation at the district precinct. We need you to come down immediately.” Beatrice had a terrible temper, but I hadn’t expected her to move this fast. I quickly got dressed and caught a cab to the station. The moment I stepped through the glass doors of the precinct, the shouting echoed from the back rooms. “Victoria! How can you look at yourself in the mirror? Grant gave you everything, and you couldn’t wait to find a new toy! You brought your little stray out to a public mall to play house? Have you no shame?” “Grant loved you more than his own life…” “Did I ask him to?” Victoria’s cold, sharp voice cut through the air. I froze in the doorway. “Did I force him to treat me well?” Victoria continued, her voice dripping with venom. “Didn’t he throw himself at me, crawl into my bed, and beg to marry me the second I waved my hand? Why should his pathetic devotion be my responsibility? I don’t love him, so why should I care?” Beatrice was white with rage, and two officers had to physically hold her back to keep her from lunging across the desk. “Victoria! You miserable leech! If it weren’t for Grant, your company would have been bankrupt years ago…” “Beatrice, stop,” I said, stepping into the room and addressing the desk sergeant. “I’m here to take her home.” Before the officer could speak, Victoria’s voice rang out, cold as winter. “Your friend assaulted my assistant. You think she can just walk out of here?” I looked at the young man sitting beside her. Christian was holding a hand to his red, swollen cheek, whimpering as he leaned against Victoria’s shoulder. Finally, I looked at my wife. “What do you want?” Victoria’s eyes were like ice. “Your friend slapped Christian. I want that slap returned.” Beatrice let out a harsh laugh. “You want him to slap me? Try it, you little…” “I’m not talking about you,” Victoria interrupted, her eyes locking onto my face. “Grant, your friend committed a crime on your behalf. It is only fair that you pay the price.” 4 “You disgusting, low-life…” Beatrice was shaking with rage, trying to break free from the officers’ grip. I took a step forward. “Fine.” Beatrice whipped her head toward me, her eyes wide. “Grant! Are you insane? She is the one who cheated! She is the one who betrayed you!” I didn’t answer her. I walked up to Victoria and Christian. “Do it.” Christian looked up, his eyes watery as he whispered, “Miss Barrett, let’s not make a scene. I’m fine…” Slap! Before he could finish his sentence, Victoria grabbed his wrist and swung his hand violently across my face. The stinging heat bloomed across my cheek instantly. I turned to walk away. “I didn’t say you were finished,” Victoria’s voice was devoid of any warmth. “He gave Christian one slap. I want it returned tenfold.” She dragged Christian forward by the arm. Before I could brace myself, the slaps began to rain down on my face. Slap! Slap! Slap! Nine more slaps, each one heavier and more vicious than the last. With every strike that landed, the remaining pieces of my love for her shattered into dust, fading away into nothingness. When the final blow landed, I felt nothing at all. A warm trickle of copper-tasting blood ran down the corner of my mouth. The officers in the room stood by, silent. No one dared to interfere with Victoria Barrett, the most powerful CEO in the city. Victoria let go of Christian’s hand and gently massaged his wrist. Then she looked at me, her voice cutting. “Keep your friend on a leash. If she barks at my people like a rabid dog again, I won’t be this lenient.” She took Christian’s hand and turned to leave. “Victoria,” I called out. I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out the folded papers. “Sign them. Let’s finish the divorce.” Victoria stared at the document, a flicker of disbelief crossing her eyes. “You’re really going through with this?” I nodded. “Yes.” She stared at me for several long seconds, then let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Grant, is this your new way of begging for my attention? Play-acting a divorce?” I wiped the blood from my lip. “Believe what you want.” Victoria’s face darkened instantly. She snatched the papers from my hand, grabbed a pen from the desk, and scrawled her signature across the line. She shoved the papers violently against my chest, letting them flutter to the floor. “Let me remind you of something, Grant. Without me and my status, you are absolutely nothing.” “When you come crawling back to me on your knees, begging for my forgiveness, I won’t even look at you.”

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I stepped out of the car to buy my daughter her favorite strawberry gelato. But when I returned, the backseat was empty. My little girl was gone. For the next four years, I lost my mind. I tore the city apart searching for her, chasing dead ends ninety-nine times. My mother wept until her vision faded to shadows. My husband, Dominic Astor, only looked at me with venomous disgust. “Until you find our daughter, don’t even think about living in peace!” After my hundredth failed attempt, my heart finally turned to ash. I swallowed a handful of lethal pills. As the poison dragged me into the dark, I heard Dominic talking to the poor scholarship student I used to sponsor. “Dom, baby. It’s been four years. When are you going to tell Caroline that Cici has been hidden away at your private estate in London this whole time?” Dominic’s voice was ice. “There is no rush. She used her family’s money to force you to drop out of college. She threw those divorce papers in my face. She needs to learn that actions have consequences.” “Until her pride is completely broken, I am not stopping.” A single tear slipped down my cheek as my soul floated out of my heavy, lifeless body. Dominic. You finally got exactly what you wanted. 1 I chose to die in my daughter’s nursery, just to be close to the lingering scent of her baby powder. The private elevator dinged. Dominic stepped into the penthouse, bringing a gust of cold night air with him. He loosened his silk tie and swept his gaze over the dark, empty living room. “Caroline still isn’t back? Let me guess. She bought into another scam artist’s fake tip and dragged herself to some godforsaken slum.” Sophie clung to his arm like a spineless vine, giggling softly. “I have never seen an upper-crust heiress act so incredibly stupid. She believes literally anything people tell her.” “Dom, remember last time? She heard a rumor about Cici and ran straight into the slums by the docks. She almost got herself killed. By the time your security team found her, her clothes were torn and she was waving a piece of broken glass around like a lunatic. Who knows if those filthy men down there touched her…” Dominic’s eyes turned lethal. He shoved her away. Sophie caught the shift in his mood instantly. She swallowed her words, stepping close again to wrap her arms around his neck. She breathed heavily against his jaw. “It has been so long since you came to my place. I missed you.” Dominic grabbed her waist and pinned her against the velvet sofa. A cruel, mocking smirk touched his lips. “You really are a wicked little thing. You know exactly how to please a man, unlike her. If she had just swallowed her pride and looked the other way, her position as Mrs. Astor would be untouchable.” “But no. She had to use her family trust to ruin your education. She dared to threaten me with a divorce. If I don’t crush that rebellious streak of hers, the Astor name becomes a joke.” The harsh sound of fabric tearing echoed in the quiet living room. Expensive tailoring and shredded silk drifted to the floor. Right here, in the home we built together, they tangled together without a shred of shame. My spirit drifted near the ceiling. I thought dying meant I would not feel pain anymore. Yet my chest ached like someone was carving out my heart with a rusty spoon. Once upon a time, this proud man had fallen to his knees in front of me. He had gripped my wrists, his usually cold eyes brimming with desperate tears. “Caro, please do not leave! I was drunk. I thought she was you! I kicked her out already, I swear. Just believe me this one time. Do not say the word divorce!” I was dead set on walking out that door. So he grabbed a priceless antique crystal decanter, smashed it against the marble floor, and drove a jagged shard right into his own neck. It was fast. Brutal. Without a second of hesitation. I did not even have time to scream. I threw myself at him, pressing my hands against the wound, but the blood just kept pouring through my fingers. I cried until my voice gave out into pathetic hiccups. Dominic fought to stay conscious. His rough thumb brushed across my tear-soaked cheek. “If I die, let this be my penance. I just want you to forgive me. Live a good life with Cici.” He did not die. And I was foolish enough to let my heart soften. After months of agony and therapy, I chose to forgive him. I never imagined my forgiveness would buy me four years of being tortured like a clueless animal. Their heavy breathing finally stopped late into the night. Dominic lit a cigarette, staring at the front door with a tight frown. “Where the hell is she? It is past midnight and she hasn’t even bothered to text.” He snatched his phone off the coffee table, a muscle ticking in his jaw, and dialed my number. In the dead silence of the penthouse, a sharp, familiar ringtone started playing. It was coming from the locked nursery next door. Dominic’s hand froze mid-air. 2 A flicker of malicious joy crossed Sophie’s eyes before she forced a look of pure worry. “Dom, why is Caroline in there? Does that mean… she heard everything we just said?” Dominic’s face darkened. He buttoned his dress shirt, pushed past her, and marched straight toward the closed nursery door. My soul drifted right behind him. I watched his palm grip the brass handle. His knuckles turned stark white. He hesitated for three seconds. Then, a hollow click. The door swung open. My body lay stiffly curled under the blankets, my back facing the door. Dominic stared at my unmoving figure, a bitter scoff leaving his lips. “Caroline, since you heard everything, I won’t bother hiding it. Yes, Cici is at my estate in London. But you brought this on yourself! You were the one who used your parents’ money to force Sophie out of school. You were the one who threatened me with divorce!” His tone was glacial, dripping with arrogant charity. “As long as you drop this high-and-mighty attitude, the title of Mrs. Astor is still yours. No one is taking it from you.” The room was deathly quiet. Dominic waited. When I did not move, his expression turned toxic. “Playing the silent treatment game? Fine. Let us see how long you can starve yourself!” He slammed the door so hard the walls shook. I looked at his retreating back, wishing I could scream at him to stop. No matter how much he hated me, I was still his wife. He should just cremate me already. I wanted to go find Cici in the afterlife, not be chained to my own rotting corpse. But a ghost cannot speak. Ten minutes later, the front door opened again. Dominic marched back inside. This time, he was dragging a tiny, stumbling figure by the hand. It was Cici. My sweet, beautiful Cici. The daughter I had hallucinated about for four agonizing years. “You spent four years acting like a lunatic looking for her! Well, I had her flown back from London today. Are you happy now?” Dominic sneered, tossing the crying child onto the foot of the bed. He turned around, grabbed Sophie, and walked out, locking the door behind him. Animal. Absolute monster. How could he lock a terrified, weeping child in a dark room with a dead body! Cici pounded her tiny fists against the heavy wood until her palms swelled, but the door did not budge. The room was pitch black. She was terrified of the strange, unmoving shape under the blankets, too scared to even sob out loud. She backed into the corner, hugging her knees, her little shoulders trembling violently. I fell to my knees in front of her, trying so desperately to wrap my arms around her. “Cici, baby, do not be scared. Mommy is right here. Even as a ghost, Mommy will never let anything hurt you…” But my glowing hands just phased right through her tiny, shaking frame. Eventually, Cici cried herself to sleep on the rug, inches away from my corpse. When morning light filtered through the blinds, Cici sat up, rubbing her swollen red eyes. She peeked timidly at my face. My skin had taken on a sickening, bruised purple hue. She waited for a long time. Finally, her stomach growled. “Auntie? Can you wake up? I am so hungry…” The figure on the bed remained dead still. Cici dropped her head in disappointment. Suddenly, her eyes lit up. She reached out and picked up the empty pill bottle I had dropped on the floor. “Wow! Pretty candies!” Two highly toxic pills were still rolling around at the bottom of the plastic bottle. Cici tipped them eagerly into her palm. “Auntie, I am just going to eat two. I am so sorry. I am just really, really hungry.” “NO!” I unleashed a bloodcurdling scream, but the living could not hear me. Right at that exact second, the bedroom door was kicked open. Dominic had come in to check if I was ready to surrender. Instead, he walked right into a nightmare. His eyes widened in raw panic. He lunged forward, snatching the bottle. He read the warning label and grabbed Cici’s jaw, prying her little mouth open with his fingers. “Spit it out! Spit it out right now! You stupid girl!” Cici wailed in absolute terror. “Daddy, please do not hit me! I will not do it again!” Only when he was certain she had not swallowed them did Dominic let go, his face completely drained of blood. He turned his gaze to the bed. The exhaustion and disgust in his eyes were suffocating. Sophie peeked in from the hallway and let out a dramatic gasp. “Caroline! Even if you are mad at us, you cannot poison your own child! She is just a baby! You are actually trying to kill her!” Dominic turned his head away, refusing to look at me for another second. If he had taken just one step closer, he would have felt my freezing, hardened skin. He would have smelled the faint, sweet rot of decay hanging in the air. But he did not. He just scooped Cici up and walked away without looking back. Sophie trailed right behind him, a smug smile playing on her lips. Dominic drove them to the most exclusive brunch spot in the city. He ordered a massive spread of imported pastries and delicacies. Cici ate like she had been starving for days. But Dominic could not eat. He pushed away his expensive cup of tea and started chain-smoking, his leg bouncing restlessly. He unlocked his phone. Our message thread was still frozen from two days ago. No matter how stubborn his wife was, she had never dropped off the grid like this. Suddenly, a cold sweat broke out across his back. A terrifying thought snapped into his brain. “No… something is wrong. She is too quiet.” His face went totally white. He shoved his chair back, completely ignoring a startled Cici, and sprinted like a madman toward the parking valet. 3 Sophie chased after him, gasping for breath as she grabbed his jacket just before he got into the driver’s seat. “Dom, baby, calm down! Actually, I saw Caroline sneak out to the kitchen in the middle of the night. I tried to say hello, but she ignored me. She shoved me against the counter and told me to mind my own business…” Sophie let go of his jacket, biting her bottom lip, looking like the perfect victim. “Dom, do you think… Caroline is still refusing to forgive us?” Dominic’s foot froze just outside the car door. He let out a slow, shaky breath. The panic vanished, instantly replaced by a wave of cynical rage. “Of course. Pretending to go on a hunger strike while sneaking food. Even using Cici’s life to put on a sick little show. She really outdid herself this time.” With a dark sneer, Dominic walked right back into the restaurant, banishing every urge to go home. My soul drifted back to the empty, echoing penthouse. A few hours later, I heard frantic, stumbling footsteps rushing through the foyer. It was my mother. After four years of crying over my missing daughter, her eyesight was almost completely gone. She tapped her white cane against the walls, holding a thermal flask tight to her chest. “Caro? Honey, where are you? Mom brought you your favorite ribs…” She fumbled for the nursery door handle and pushed it open. Her trembling hands reached out, brushing against the bed. When her fingers finally touched my freezing, rigid face, a scream of pure, shredded agony ripped through the silence of the penthouse. Watching my mother clutch my rotting corpse, sobbing until she was choking on her own breath, my ghost actually felt physical pain. Hours later, the tears stopped. Her face hardened into something unrecognizable. To prevent Dominic from ever touching my body again, she quietly hired a discreet private funeral service. They wrapped me up and took me away before the sun even set. The next time anyone opened that front door, it was three days later. Dominic walked in, smelling heavily of bourbon. He peeled a clinging Sophie off his arm and kicked the nursery door open. “Caroline! How long are you going to keep up this pathetic act? Enough is enough!” He was greeted by nothing but a perfectly stripped, empty bed. Dominic’s heart skipped a beat. A weird, hollow feeling hit his chest. Then, his pride kicked back in. “Good! Perfect! You think you can run away? Go ahead and die out there on the streets! Do not ever come back!” He stormed into the master suite and ripped open my walk-in closet. Seeing all my designer bags and clothes still sitting on the shelves, he let out a heavy sigh of relief. The very next morning, Dominic ordered a dozen maids to pack up Sophie’s things. He moved her into the penthouse with all the fanfare of a new queen taking her throne. For the next few days, Dominic played the ruthless corporate king in the boardroom and the charming bachelor at high-society galas with Sophie on his arm. Everything looked perfect on the surface. But his eyes grew darker and more violently restless every single day. He spent hours just staring at a blank phone screen. On the seventh day of my disappearance, Dominic snapped. He drove to the family mansion, grabbed Cici by the arm, and shoved his phone into her face. “Call your mother! Tell her to drag herself home right now!” Cici shook like a leaf, bursting into terrified tears. Dominic’s eyes were totally bloodshot. “Are you completely useless? All you do is cry! You cannot even say one word? What good are you!” “Daddy, please… Mommy? Are you there? I am so scared…” Dominic cut the recording and sent the audio file to my phone. He typed out a follow-up message with shaking fingers: “Caroline, I have Cici. If you are not back in this house in thirty minutes, you will never see her again for the rest of your life.” Sophie watched the whole meltdown from the doorway. She let out a soft, pitying sigh. “Dom, you do not have to do this. You know how stubborn she is. She will come back when she realizes she has no money. Besides, it seems like she doesn’t even care about Cici that much…” Dominic did not hear a single word. He was hyper-fixated on the chat screen. Nothing. He dialed my number. Again. And again. And again. When the robotic ‘voicemail’ prompt played for the fiftieth time, he let out a primal roar and hurled his phone directly at the marble wall, shattering it into a million pieces. 4 Sophie flinched, her face draining of color. She had never seen Dominic, a man who always possessed terrifying self-control, lose his mind like this. “Dom… since she is being this heartless, just file for divorce! With the Astor legal team, you can leave her with absolutely nothing. Why are you doing this to yourself?” The word “divorce” hit Dominic’s brain like a flaming knife. A manic, almost unhinged laugh ripped from his throat. “Divorce? She thinks she has the right to divorce me?” He forced himself to breathe. He knelt down, picked up the cracked, sparking phone, and dialed my mother’s number. It rang and rang. Right before it went to voicemail, the line clicked open. Dominic did not even say hello. He barked into the receiver, “Helena! Is Caroline hiding at your place? Put her on the phone right now. I am done playing games!” Dead silence on the other end. Then, a raspy, broken sob crackled through the speaker. “Dominic Astor. You absolute monster… You drove my little girl into an early grave. Are you happy now? You will never, ever touch her again!” The call disconnected. A sharp dial tone buzzed in the air. Dominic froze like he had been struck by lightning. The blood rushed out of his head, leaving a ringing in his ears. But his massive ego fought back against the crushing tsunami of terror. Veins popped on his forehead. Sweat soaked through his expensive shirt. He frantically typed a message to my number on the shattered screen. “Caroline, so you got your mother in on the act too? Dragging an old woman into our fight, have you no shame?! If you want a divorce so badly, crawl back here and sign the papers! Do not force me to destroy your family’s business!” Message sent. Delivered. Left on unread. Standing nearby, Sophie only heard the word “divorce.” Pure, unfiltered greed lit up her eyes. She practically jogged toward the master bedroom, desperate to hunt down our marriage certificates. But before she even opened a drawer, chaotic, violent noises erupted from the living room. Dominic was acting like a rabid dog. He snatched up the weeping Cici from the sofa, practically crushing her against his chest, and stormed out the front door, radiating a terrifying, murderous energy. “Wait! Dom! Where are you taking her?!” The heavy oak door slammed shut in her face. Out on the midnight highway, Dominic’s sports car weaved through traffic like a guided missile. My soul was sitting in the backseat, wrapping my phantom arms tightly around Cici, who was so terrified she could barely breathe. Dominic, you absolute lunatic! If you want to kill yourself, leave my daughter out of it! I watched the street signs blur past. We were heading straight for my mother’s estate. Five minutes later, the tires screeched against the asphalt. The car aggressively hopped the curb, parking directly in front of the Sinclair manor’s iron gates. The second Dominic stepped out of the car, he looked up. Hanging high on both sides of the heavy wooden doors were massive, undeniable white and black floral wreaths. The ultimate symbol of a funeral. “No. No, this is impossible.” “Caroline! Stop faking! Open this damn door!” He looked like a trapped beast. He hammered his fists violently against the heavy oak, even as his legs buckled underneath him. “Do not use this kind of sick, twisted prank to curse yourself! If you have the guts, come out here and face me!” “That is enough!”

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The night I left my marriage with nothing, I wandered the streets of New York alone. A small ad on the side of the road caught my eye: [Looking for a stepmom. Age and looks don’t matter. Must be patient with kid. Room and board included.]() Room and board included. That’s what got me. That same night, I dragged my suitcase to the address on the ad. I walked straight into the mansion of Natpphan Sterling — the richest man in New York. George, the butler, stiff and condescending. “Mr. Sterling is looking for a mother for his child. Not a wife for himself. I need you to be very clear on that.” “Mr. Sterling is an exceptional man. Don’t get any… ideas.” I kept my head slightly down, eyes forward. Honestly, this job was perfect for me. To put it simply, they just needed a high-end nanny. I had only gotten divorced that morning. Remarriage? Couldn’t be further from my mind. But taking care of a kid and having a roof was a lifeline for me. I nodded respectfully. “I understand. I won’t get any ideas. You have my word.” George gave a curt nod and led me to the dining room. At a massive long table, a young father and his son were locked in a silent battle. The man sat there holding a bowl and a spoon, his expression dark. The boy bit his lip and refused to budge. Neither of them was backing down. The man pinched the bridge of his nose and lowered his voice. “Just one bite, Luca. One tiny bite. Can you do that for me?” George stepped forward and spoke to Nathan. “Sir, another applicant is here. This one seems honest.” The man slowly turned around. He wore simple black dress pants and a white shirt, a little bit of mashed potato stuck to his shirt. That handsome face — I’d seen it on the cover of Forbes before. A minute ago, I was worried this whole thing might be a scam. Now I could relax. He had no reason to trick some broke woman like me. His deep-set eyes swept over me, cool and brief. “What’s your name?” I said. “Claire Bennett.” He gave a barely perceptible nod. “Give it a try.” Then he stood, walked over to the sofa, crossed his arms, and leaned back to watch me. So this was interview. Feeding a child was probably harder for him than closing a multi-billion dollar deal. I had to nail this. If I could stay, at least I wouldn’t be sleeping on the street tonight. I put on what I hoped was a warm, motherly smile and walked toward the boy.

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I lay on the delivery bed. The contractions were coming faster now, one after another. My husband, Adrian Lang, held my hand, his eyes soft with concern. “Hang in there, Serena. We’ll meet our baby soon.” I was trembling from the pain, but I still forced a smile. Then a nurse walked in with a syringe. I thought it was the epidural. But Adrian let go of my hand and stepped back. The needle pierced my skin. Then I heard his voice. “Get the dose right. Make sure she doesn’t deliver before Vanessa.” My eyes flew open. I stared at him in shock. He glanced at his watch. “Vanessa’s already six centimeters dilated. Buy us two more hours.” I wanted to scream. I wanted to fight back. But the drug was already in my system. The contractions suddenly weakened, as if something inside me had been forced still. … They moved me to a temporary room in the basement. Adrian’s sister, Chloe Lang, stood in the doorway, idly turning a scalpel in her hand. “Don’t blame Adrian, Serena.” “The baby Vanessa’s carrying is my brother’s only child.” She smiled. “It’s a boy and he’ll be the Lang family’s first grandson.” Her gaze dropped to my stomach. “So what if you go into labor first?” “You’re only carrying a girl.” I covered my belly with both hands. Another wave of pain broke through the medication, and my vision blurred. “Call a doctor. I’m about to give birth. Please…” Chloe laughed. She walked over and crouched in front of me, then tapped my cheek lightly with the scalpel. “Give birth?” “That drug will keep working for another three hours.” “Vanessa’s already in the delivery room.” “So stay here and wait.” “After her baby is born safely, you can have yours.” She rose to her feet and looked at the bodyguard outside. “Keep an eye on her.” “If she dares to scream, gag her.” The door slammed shut. The basement was lit by a single dim emergency light. I lay on the floor as blood slowly spread beneath me. Adrian had taken my phone the moment we arrived at the hospital. He said radiation wasn’t good for the baby. Now I understood. He was afraid I’d call someone. I curled up and tried to breathe through the pain. But all I could see was Adrian’s face. Cold. Calm. Like I meant nothing to him. Not his wife. Not the woman carrying his child. Three months ago, his older brother died in a car accident. He left behind his pregnant wife, Vanessa. At the funeral, old Mr. Lang held Vanessa’s hand, tears streaming down his face. “That child has to be born safe.” “The Lang family can’t lose its heir.” Back then, I even felt sorry for her. I stepped forward and said, “Dad, don’t worry. Adrian and I will raise our baby well too.” He looked at me and said nothing. Only now did I understand. He had already given up on my child. “Ah—” Another contraction tore through me. This one was stronger. The drug was wearing off. The baby was coming. I crawled to the door and pounded on it with all the strength I had left. “Someone! Please! I’m about to give birth!” “Please save my baby!” No one answered. I kept screaming until my throat turned raw. At last, I heard the bodyguard’s impatient voice from outside. “What the hell are you yelling for?” “Miss Lang told you to wait, so wait.” “But my baby—” He cut me off with a sneer. “If it dies, it dies.” “That’s your bad luck.” Then he spat out one last cruel sentence. “That’s what you get for carrying a girl.” My whole body went cold. I collapsed onto the floor. This wasn’t fate. They were trying to kill my baby.

I had no idea how long I had been trapped in that basement. The bleeding only got worse. Everything beneath me was soaked with blood. Just as the edges of my vision began to blur, the door swung open. It was not Chloe. It was not the bodyguard. It was the Lang family’s doctor, Carter. The second he saw me, all the color drained from his face. “Serena? What are you doing down here?” “Adrian told me you were resting in one of the VIP rooms.” I tried to answer. Nothing came out. Tears spilled down my face as I lifted a trembling hand to my stomach. Carter rushed over and dropped to his knees beside me. The moment he examined me, his expression changed. “Oh God.” “The baby’s crowning.” “Your water already broke.” “I need to get you into surgery right now.” He reached down to lift me, but the second my body shifted, a hot gush poured between my legs. Blood. So much blood. Carter’s hands started shaking. He turned toward the doorway and shouted, “I need help in here!” “She’s bleeding heavily!” But the hallway outside was empty. This private hospital belonged to the Lang family. Tonight, the entire building had been cleared for Vanessa’s delivery. All the doctors and nurses were upstairs, gathered outside her delivery suite. Carter yanked out his phone and tried to call for help. But there was no signal in the basement. “I’m taking you upstairs,” he said through clenched teeth. “Stay with me.” Then he bent down, gathered me into his arms, and ran. Or tried to. The stairwell felt endless. Every step sent a brutal jolt through my body. The pain was so intense I thought I might black out at any second. I could feel the baby dropping lower and lower. But she still would not come. The drug was still in my system. My contractions were weak and uneven. That was the worst part. “Doctor…” I clutched at his coat, barely able to force the words out. “If it comes down to it… save my baby.” “Don’t say that.” “You’re both going to make it.” At last, he reached the first floor and rushed toward the operating room. But the moment we got there, both of us froze. The OR doors were wide open. Inside, there was nothing. The surgical lights were gone. The operating table was gone. The monitors, the oxygen equipment, every last piece of medical machinery… Gone. The room was completely empty except for the wall outlets. Carter stood there in stunned disbelief. A strangled sound died in his throat. “How is this possible?” “I checked everything myself this afternoon…” Footsteps echoed down the hall. Chloe approached with two nurses behind her. The moment she saw us, one brow lifted. “Carter? What are you doing down here?” “Vanessa is upstairs in the delivery room.” “Why come all the way down here?” Carter pointed at the empty operating room. His voice shook. “Where is the equipment?” “Who cleared out this room?” Chloe looked at him with wide, innocent eyes. “We moved everything upstairs.” “Vanessa’s having a C-section, so of course she gets priority.” “If anything happens during surgery, she’ll need all the equipment close at hand.” “We couldn’t risk leaving her in a standard OR.” As she said it, her gaze shifted to me. Then she smiled. “Oh. Serena, you’re in labor?” “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait.” “Vanessa comes first.” “So you’ll just have to hold on a little longer.” I stared at her beautiful, smiling face. Suddenly, I remembered something she had said to me six months ago. Back then, we were out shopping together. She had slipped her arm through mine and smiled up at me sweetly. “You’re so good to me, Serena.” “Better than any real sister.” That day alone, I spent over a hundred thousand dollars on designer bags for her. Looking back now, I was a fool.

Carter rushed into the nurses’ station like a man possessed. He tore through every cabinet, searching for emergency supplies. There was nothing. The shelves were empty. No clamps. No gauze. Not even basic medication. “Where are the drugs?” he shouted. “The meds to stop the bleeding. The ones to induce stronger contractions. Where are they?” A nurse lowered her head. “They were all taken to the third floor.” Carter froze. “What do you mean?” Her voice dropped even lower. “Mr. Lang ordered that everything be prioritized for Ms. Vanessa.” Carter slammed his fist against the cabinet. Then he turned to look at me. His eyes were red. His lips trembled. “I’m sorry, Serena.” “I’m so sorry.” “There’s nothing I can do.” Chloe walked over and lightly patted his shoulder. “Carter, don’t worry.” “Vanessa hasn’t delivered yet.” “Once she’s done, they’ll move the equipment back downstairs.” She glanced at my stomach and added in an almost careless tone, “Besides, even if the baby comes now, so what?” “It’s only a girl.” “If she dies, she dies.” “The Lang family won’t care about one little girl.” I stared at her. At the girl I had loved like my own little sister for three years. Then, with every ounce of strength I had left, I forced out two words. “You bastard.” Chloe’s expression darkened at once. She bent down and leaned close to my ear, her voice barely above a whisper. “Go ahead. Curse all you want.” “Once you give birth, you’ll be too weak to fight back. And when that happens, I’ll make sure you stay quiet.” “By then, Vanessa will take your place.” “As for you…” She straightened and smiled brightly. “If my brother is feeling merciful, maybe he’ll let you live. You can stay in the house. As a servant.” Carter could not hold back anymore. “Miss Lang, this is murder!” “Murder?” Chloe gave a cold little laugh. “Watch what you say, Carter.” “Women die in childbirth every day. That’s hardly unusual.” “Besides, this is a family matter. You’re an outsider. This is none of your business.” Then she motioned to the bodyguards. “Take Carter away. Leave Serena to me.” Two bodyguards stepped forward immediately. They grabbed Carter by the arms and dragged him toward the door. He struggled against them and shouted back at me, “Serena, listen to me! Try to keep the contractions going! Press your acupoints! Stay awake!” “Don’t give up! Your baby still has a chance!” His voice grew fainter and fainter. Then Chloe shut the door and turned back to me. She pulled a phone from her pocket and started a video call. “Adrian,” she said sweetly, “Serena’s about to give birth. Do you want to take a look?” A second later, Adrian’s face appeared on the screen. He was standing outside a delivery room. Doctors and nurses moved quickly behind him. “Chloe, stop messing around. Vanessa’s condition is unstable. The baby’s heart rate is dropping.” Chloe tilted the phone toward me. “Look at Serena,” she said lightly. “She’s bleeding a lot. Do you think she’s about to die?” Adrian looked at the screen. He frowned for a second. Then he looked away. “She can wait.” “Once Vanessa delivers, the doctors can go downstairs.” “Chloe, keep an eye on her. I can’t leave right now.” The call ended. Chloe put her phone away and shrugged. “You heard him.” “To Adrian, Vanessa comes first.” “As for you…” “You were nothing more than a womb.” “Now that you’re no longer useful, you get thrown away.” I closed my eyes. I refused to look at her again. Slowly, I slid one hand behind my back and felt along the inner lining of my dress. It was still there. A tiny device, no bigger than a button. My father had given it to me. I could still hear his voice from that day. “Serena, the Lang family is dangerous. If anything ever happens to you, press this.” Back then, I laughed and told him he was worrying too much. “Dad, I don’t need it. Adrian is good to me. So is everyone in the Lang family.” Now I understood how foolish I had been. I hooked a fingernail under the protective cover. Pried it open. Then pressed the button. There was no sound. No light. But I knew the signal had gone out. My father once told me that if I ever used it, someone would get to me within thirty minutes. But thirty minutes… could my baby make it that long?

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They say my husband loves me. They also say he sent me my fiancé’s severed legs in a Tiffany box on my eighteenth birthday — with a note that read: “Be mine.” To get me to marry him, Damien Moretti chopped off my fiancé’s legs. Wrapped them in red ribbon. Called it a present. So I returned the favor. Had him grabbed. Cut the tendon clean out of one leg. Carved out one of his eyes for good measure. He didn’t scream. Didn’t curse me out. He laughed. “See, baby? Told you. You and me — we’re the same animal. Born for each other.” And the worst part? I laughed too. Because that twisted son of a bitch was right. Eight years. Eight years of bullets, bodies, and bad decisions dressed up as love. Then she showed up. Some pretty little thing.Eyes too big and too innocent to be real. The kind of girl men write poems about and women. Sienna Russo. She walked up to my door. In a white dress. Like she belonged. “Damien told me himself,” she said, chin up, lips pouted. “You’re filthy, Aria. He’s done slumming. Girls like me are what he keeps now.” I let her finish. Even gave her a little nod. Sure, sweetheart. Whatever helps you sleep. Then I pulled the blade off my thigh and opened her face like an envelope. “Pretty little angel, huh?” I purred while she screamed. “Let’s see how the boys like you with the wings ripped off.” Her shrieking was the best music I’d heard all week. I snapped a picture. Sent it to Damien. Trash on my doorstep. Yours, I think. Ten minutes. That’s how long it takes him to come tearing through my door, gun bulging under his jacket. “What the fuck did you do, Aria?” I exhale smoke right at his face. “Took out the trash. A ‘thank you’ would be nice.” His jaw locks. That dead eye of his flickers — red, wrong, like something crawled into the socket and stayed there. “You don’t touch what’s mine. You know better than that.” I tilt my head. Tap my ear. Frown. “Sorry — couldn’t catch that over all the yipping. Come again?” “Aria—” Sienna throws herself against his chest, sobbing into the silk. “Damien — kill her! Kill her for me! Look what she did to my face! She did it ’cause she’s jealous — ’cause you love me!” He shoves her off. Sees the meat where her cheek used to be. His good eye goes black. The gun snaps up. Cold against my forehead. Safety clicks off. “Aria Lombardi.” Voice colder than the steel. “You went too far.” “She’s a kid. She’s not like us.” I smile. Push the barrel aside with one lazy finger. Blow smoke between his lips. “Oh? So what now, Don? Gonna pull the trigger? Even the score for your little pet?” Closer. My mouth ghosts his jaw. “Or maybe…” I drag it out, sweet as poison. “You wanna cut up my face too? Make us match? Couples therapy?” “You know I’m not that stupid bitch. You know what comes after.” The knife is already kissing his liver. He hisses. His men flood the room. Six guns trained on me. He just looks at me. Long. Quiet. Then he laughs. Soft. Almost fond. He waves one hand. “Out. All of you. I didn’t fucking call you. Out.” The room clears. “Aria. You’re really something else.” “Right back at you, Don. You taught me well.” To make me ugly, just like him, he sent me my fiancé’s legs in a box tied with red ribbon. To drag me to the altar, he wrapped his hand around mine and shoved a blade straight through my fiancé’s heart. He whispered in my ear, blood drying on his cheek, love burning in his one good eye: “Once you’re dirty as me, no man on earth will want you. Just me. Always just me.” He pulled me out of the light and buried me in the dirt with him. The white gardenia is red now. Soaked through. You don’t wash that out. And now he likes them clean? Cute. “What’s the matter, Don? Don’t like your gift?” I drag the tip of my knife slow across his shirt. “Right — silly me. You like to take legs off. I went easy on her. Real soft touch. I’ll do better next time. Promise.” Sienna shrieks into his sleeve, yanking on him, begging him to make me pay. He stares at me. A long, long time. Then he turns. Picks her up. Carries her out. At the door, he doesn’t look back. “Remember this, Aria. We’re not done.” The fallout comes faster than I thought.

That night, Damien drags every doctor on the Family payroll out of bed. One scar on her face, and I bury every last one of you. Word reaches me while I’m out by the tank, feeding my sharks. “Easy, baby. You’ve been hungry, haven’t you?” I tap the glass. “Mama’s got you.” Matteo stands behind me, jaw clenched, draping a coat over my shoulders. “He’s out of line this time, Donna. Eight years — and he’s never once turned on you for a woman.” “That chair he sits in? You handed it to him. The Family is his because you let it be.” I just shake my head. Smile a little. “He’s a toy, Matteo. Let him throw his fit. When he’s done, I’ll be the one zipping the bag.” I press a finger to Matteo’s lips. Soft warning. “And watch the word ‘Family.’ On paper, we’re a holding company now. Don’t slip.” I turn back to the tank — to the row of pretty little fish Damien spent years raising. His pride and joy. “Drop them in. Useless things don’t get to live in my house.” A hundred shiny little bodies. Thrashing. Darting. Nowhere to hide. The sharks don’t miss. I watch it all turn red, one fish at a time, and I laugh out loud. Hasn’t been that fun in months. I snap a photo. Send it. Fun, huh? Wasn’t enough though. Stock the tank better next time, Don. He doesn’t text back. He calls. Video. I pick up — and there she is. Sienna. Smug little smile under the bandages. “Aw. Sorry it’s not him, babe?” “News flash — he didn’t dump me. He swore he’d make you pay. Pulled every doctor your family’s got out of bed for me.” “Heard you can’t sleep without a needle these days. Sweet dreams tonight?” She leans in. Lets the robe slip. Bite marks all down her collarbone. “You’re filthy, Aria. You make me sick.” “Me? My hands are clean.” I smile. “Clean? Pity. Clean girls don’t last long in the Moretti house, sweetheart.” Line dies. Matteo walks in. Folder under his arm. “Donna. The items. We found them. Black-market auction. Tomorrow night.” Finally. “Eight years.” I exhale. “Wire five hundred million. Tomorrow, I bring them home.” The auction floor. Old money. Old blood. Old enemies in tuxedos. And of course — them. Sienna’s hanging off Damien’s arm. Spots me. Lights up. “Ms. Lombardi! Small world. Something here catch your eye too?” She tilts her head, sweet as syrup. “Pity. Damien said everything tonight’s mine. Little ‘sorry’ gift.” Damien feels my eyes. Pats her hand like she’s a nervous puppy. “That’s right. I said it.” “You crossed a line last time. Call this even.” “Don’t be difficult, Aria.” Cute. Last spring, I put forty of his enemies in the ground for him. He kissed the blood off my hands and called me his good girl. Now Sienna pouts, and suddenly I’m the difficult one. I look straight at him. Voice soft. “You didn’t see the pictures last night, Don?” “Guess not. Otherwise you wouldn’t be in such a good mood, would you?” His face freezes. Head snaps to her. She stammers. Just some stupid fish, baby — didn’t look important. So I deleted them for you— His breath goes sharp. “Who the hell told you you could touch my phone?” One tear. The words die in his throat. “Forget it. Auction first. We’ll talk at home.” The bidding starts. Damien doesn’t even glance at the catalog. Just lifts one finger. Don’s Privilege. The whole room sucks in air. My face goes to stone. Lot after lot. His. Then the last three roll out — and I’m on my feet. My mother’s pearls. The crucifix my father had blessed in Palermo. My grandfather’s painting — the only thing of his I have left. I grab the runner by the sleeve. “Those three. Mine. I don’t care what they cost.” The man goes white. Voice shaking. “Donna — please. You know the rule. Don’s Privilege. Don’t make me die for this. Please — go talk to Don Moretti yourself.” I walk to Damien’s private box. Push the door open. I don’t even get the words out. Sienna’s manicured finger is already on the screen, pointing at the three lots glowing under the spotlight. “Damien, baby. Those three? I love them. I want them.”

Damien stiffens. “You just said this stuff was tacky.” “Yeah, but now I want them. You’re not gonna give them to me? Me and the baby are gonna be upset. When he’s born, I’ll tell him his daddy’s a cheap bastard!” My breath stops. I look at her stomach. Still flat. So that’s why a woman dared to walk into my house. She’s carrying his. Damien’s face goes cold. “Aria. I already promised Sienna. If you like them, I’ll find you something else later.” “You know what these mean to me!” Eight years ago, my Family was bled dry by old enemies. Everything that mattered to me — vanished. I killed a hundred of their men. But the one at the top? He wouldn’t talk. He wanted me to suffer. In the end, it was Damien who did it. Tortured him for a whole month. Damien’s voice grinds, anger barely held in. “They’re dead people’s junk. Why do you care so much?” “I told you I’ll make it up to you. This one goes to Sienna. You owe her this.” Sienna steps forward. Smiles. “Right, Ms. Lombardi. Mom and Dad are dead. Keeping their stuff just makes it hurt more, doesn’t it?” “You think maybe they died like that because you racked up too much bad karma? I heard they got their arms and legs chopped off. Sewn up into dolls. First time I heard that, I almost passed out!” The words drive into my heart. Rip me open. I slam her face-down on the table. Pull the knife from my thigh. Press it to her wrist. “You talk too much.” “The pearls — or your hand. Pick one!” Damien is on his feet. Kicks the knife out of my grip. I draw my gun. Press it to her belly. “Aria! Let her go!” “Sienna’s only telling the truth. You’ve killed plenty of people — you can’t handle a little honesty?” “If your parents hadn’t made so many enemies, they wouldn’t have died that way! Look at yourself right now. I don’t even recognize you anymore!” The gun jerks in my hand. Almost goes off. I’m shaking. All of me. He knows exactly why my parents died. The men who came that night , they were coming for him. Not us. They grabbed three of us at once. My father. My mother. Damien. Then they made me choose. Save my parents — Damien dies. Save Damien — my parents die. At the end, Mom and Dad looked at me. Said they were too old. Said they couldn’t protect me anymore. Said the Family would have to be left in Damien’s hands. They weren’t murdered. They put the bullet in their own heads. So I wouldn’t have to choose. After they were gone, the enemies let Damien walk. But they took my parents’ bodies with them. By the time I tracked the bastards down, the place was empty. All that was left were two rotting dolls. Stitched together. Limb by limb. I dug their grave with my bare hands. Ten fingertips down to the bone. The whole time I dug, Damien knelt beside me. Hours. Didn’t move. He smashed his forehead into the headstone until it split open. Swore on his life he’d protect me. That same night, he carved my name into his chest with his knife. “Aria is my heart. From now on — where I am, you are.” “You’re my life.” I grind the cigarette out behind Sienna’s ear. Smile down at her. Wide. Wrong. Then I slowly let her go. “You’re right. They wouldn’t like what I’ve become.” Sienna throws herself sobbing into Damien’s arms. “She’s a psycho!” He just stares at me. I slide my hand into my pocket. He tenses. Instantly. Until he sees what I pull out — a man’s gold band. He breathes out. “Got a present for you, Don. Let me put it on for you myself. Okay?” He lets go of Sienna. Walks to me. Holds out his hand. Obedient. Like muscle memory. The blade flashes. His ring finger drops to the floor. I laugh. Out loud. Wild. “Damien, this is what you owe me!” “I’m taking it back. Piece. By. Piece!” I twirl the knife between my fingers and step toward Sienna.

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Twenty years ago, my dad was in a car accident. My mom, a top-tier lawyer, used her entire fortune and all her legal expertise to win the case for the culprit. All because the culprit was the man she loved but couldn’t have. Later, that man was acquitted and released, while my dad died. Twenty years later, I became the “Ironclad Lawyer,” a name that struck fear into the hearts of many in the legal community. A man knelt outside my firm, begging someone to take his wife’s hit-and-run case. The perpetrator brazenly boasted that no one in Evergreen City would dare touch his wife’s case because his mother was a legal titan. I flipped open the familiar, sickening family photo. With a cold sneer, I slammed the retainer agreement onto the table. “I’ll take this case.” In the emergency surgery ward’s hallway. A middle-aged man stepped forward. “Mr. Miller, thank you for agreeing to help us…” He was the husband of the injured delivery driver, whose leg was broken. I didn’t speak. I looked down, flipping through the perpetrator’s medical records and the synchronized police accident report in my hands. One hundred and forty miles per hour, in a city zone. A few steps away, the VIP room door was ajar. I turned my head slightly. On the hospital bed, the young perpetrator lay with his eyes closed. His face was pale. But the curve of his eye socket and brow bone. They were exactly like that person’s. Footsteps interrupted my thoughts. A woman in a high-end tailored suit walked out of the room. She was Ethan Campbell’s fiancée. She glanced at the unsigned settlement agreement in my hand. Her face hardened. “Two hundred thousand dollars.” “To hire you as my litigation lawyer. What do you say?” I pulled my gaze away from the hospital bed. I took out my old, rusted fountain pen from my pocket. My thumb twirled the cap around and around. “Ma’am.” I looked at her. “He’s facing charges for a hit-and-run.” The woman paused, then let out a cold laugh. She turned and gestured to the bodyguard behind her. A black briefcase was placed on the floor, its lid springing open. It was full of neatly stacked bundles of cash. The elevator at the end of the hallway chimed. The law firm’s director, Mr. Harrison, ran out, drenched in sweat. He didn’t even look at me, heading straight for the woman. He bowed profusely. “Ms. Davis, please calm down first. Alex isn’t thinking straight today.” He turned, grabbing my arm, and practically dragged me to the corner of the hallway. “Alex, are you trying to drag the firm down with you?” I didn’t move. He pointed at the VIP room, his hand trembling. “Do you know who’s lying in that bed?” He swallowed hard. “His mother is Eleanor Vance.” “A titan in the entire Evergreen City legal community.” “How many people in law enforcement and the judiciary have attended her lectures?” The director panted, continuing to pressure me. “The Campbell family naming you is giving you an out.” He patted the briefcase. “A poor person’s leg isn’t worth much, but the Campbell family’s reputation cannot be tarnished.” He stared into my eyes. “This is your livelihood; don’t jeopardize your career.” The woman approached. She didn’t even glance at the director, staring only at me. “Professor Vance has connections everywhere.” She lifted her chin, her voice dripping with contempt. “My fiancé merely had an unfortunate run-in with some nobody from the lower class.” She kicked aside the crumpled delivery bag nearby. “Are you really going to trade her broken leg for the Campbells’ humiliation?” “Tell me, who gave you the guts?” The hallway fell silent. The delivery driver’s husband sat paralyzed on the floor, not even daring to cry out. I slowly lifted my eyelids. My hands were in my pockets. “Director.” “Legal fees can buy services.” I walked back to the briefcase. “But they can’t buy my conscience.” The woman’s face completely fell. The director gasped. I raised my hand, pointing towards the VIP room. “No matter how powerful your connections, they can’t absolve him.” “No matter how much money, it can’t reattach that man’s leg.” “As for the Campbell family’s reputation.” I threw the report in my hand back onto the pile of cash. “What does that have to do with me?” I moved closer to the woman, staring into her eyes. “I’m going to make sure that driver goes to jail, for the sake of that delivery worker.” The muscles in the woman’s face twitched twice. She stared at me, grinding her teeth. “Fine.” “Alex Miller, I hope you truly understand who you’ve just offended.” *Bang.* She spun around and slammed the VIP room door shut. The director’s face was ashen. He pointed at me, unable to squeeze out a complete sentence for a long time. “You… you’re finished!” He stomped his foot. “You’ve offended the Campbells; you’ll never make it in Evergreen City!” The director scrambled into the elevator. Only I and the delivery driver’s husband were left in the hallway. I stood rooted to the spot. My hand in my pocket, gripping that old fountain pen. Offending the powerful. In their eyes, that was a dead end. But they didn’t know. I had been waiting for this opportunity for twenty long years. I pulled out my phone. “Grandma, it’s me. That thing… you can bring it now.”

I locked the retainer agreement in my drawer. The office door was pushed open. A faint scent of sandalwood drifted in first. Subtle, expensive, like the incense offered before Buddha in a temple. I looked up. A man in a sharp, dark suit stood at the doorway. His hair was meticulously combed, a string of prayer beads wrapped around his left wrist, and he held a document in his right hand. His steps were steady. As if nothing could rush him. He placed the document on my desk. I glanced at the official seal. Evergreen City Accident Victims’ Relief Fund. How ironic. “Mr. Miller.” His voice was incredibly calm. “Ms. Davis is young and impulsive; I apologize on her behalf.” He flicked his prayer beads. “I’m David Campbell, Ethan’s father.” I didn’t respond. He gestured to the document on the table. “This is a million-dollar special assistance fund from the foundation.” “Donated in your name to the injured delivery worker.” He paused, as if carefully choosing his words. “At the same time, the foundation would like to hire you as Chief Legal Counsel, with an annual salary of three million dollars.” He looked up at me. “The condition is that you withdraw from this case.” I leaned back in my chair. “Mr. Campbell, what are you trying to do…?” “Help you.” He interrupted, his tone so sincere it didn’t sound like a negotiation. “Life is tough for people in the lower class. If they fight this case to the bitter end, the long litigation period will only cut off their basic living expenses.” He sighed softly. “You get a respectable job, he gets life-saving money. It’s good for everyone.” “Mr. Miller, I’ve done twenty years of charity work, built dozens of schools.” “I understand the struggles of the underprivileged all too well.” As he said this, his eyes even had a hint of moisture. Filled with compassion for humanity. “Mr. Campbell.” I spoke. “Hit-and-run is a criminal offense.” I looked into his eyes. “Charity money can’t buy an acquittal from the court.” He scrutinized me. As if appraising a mistakenly priced item. “Mr. Miller.” His tone shifted; it was still soft, but there was something underlying it. “Everyone says you’re an Ironclad Lawyer.” He leaned forward. “Today, I’ve finally witnessed it myself.” I didn’t move. He continued to stare at me. “Why are you so set on going against my son? What do you gain?” “Not enough leverage? Or are you just trying to leverage the Campbell name for your own career?” He leaned closer, his voice even lower. “Let me be clear.” “You won’t earn much from taking on a messy case like this, and you’ll offend an entire network of people.” He pointed at me. “My wife’s former students are everywhere in law enforcement and the judiciary.” “Do you really think you, a single lawyer, can go against the entire legal community of Evergreen City?” “Mr. Campbell.” I stood up. “The fundamental principles of justice won’t be wiped away by your family’s dirty tricks.” I walked around the desk, to the door, and opened it. “Take your dirty money and get out.” The veneer of respectability on his face shattered. “People who clawed their way up from the bottom just don’t understand rules.” He stood up, his voice icy. “You’ll see.” I stood still, my shoulders trembling. Twenty years ago. My dad’s body was shattered in the middle of the road. And the killer’s husband had just been sitting in front of me. Wearing prayer beads, fidgeting with a million-dollar check, talking to me about charity, about the struggles of the poor. I lowered my head and let out a soft laugh. David Campbell couldn’t handle this. So next, it would be her turn. The legal titan who used “procedural justice” to acquit her husband, the killer. My mother, Eleanor Vance. The door was kicked open. The law firm director rushed in. “Notice of Investigation for Professional Misconduct.” “Alex Miller, you’ve been suspended indefinitely.” I glanced at the signatory. Just moments ago. How efficient. “Professor Vance spoke a single word, and the State Bar Association dared to rubber-stamp it.” “Do you think you’re representing a delivery driver’s case?” He took a breath. “You’re sending your entire professional career to the guillotine of the Campbell family!” The director was about to say more. The door opened. A scent of rich wood wafted in first.

I looked up. Eleanor Vance stood at the doorway. Dressed in a black skirt, with silver hair and wire-rimmed glasses. Her posture was ramrod straight, her steps measured and deliberate. Exactly like the legal titan on television. The director turned, looking as if his throat had been squeezed. He retreated to the corner, then backed out the door. The door closed. Only she and I were left in the office. Twenty years. I was finally sitting across from this woman. She pulled out a chair and sat down calmly. Without a hint of anger. Even with a smile. “Mr. Miller.” Her voice was deep, steady, like she was lecturing from a podium. “Evergreen City hasn’t seen a young man of such integrity as you in a long time.” She looked at me. “Speaking up for the underprivileged, excellent.” My hand in my pocket clenched around the old fountain pen. She took off her glasses, slowly polishing them with a soft cloth. “Ethan’s incident was an accident.” “Young people driving carelessly, everyone has done it.” “If you’re willing to drop this now, I’ll recommend you for the position of Deputy Secretary-General of the State Legal Society.” She looked at me, her tone so sincere, as if mentoring a protégé. “Young man, you need to look at the bigger picture.” I took out the old fountain pen from my pocket and twirled the cap with my thumb. “Professor Vance.” “Twenty years ago, the severe hit-and-run case on Eastwood Highway in Evergreen City.” “That battle made your name famous and placed you on the path to becoming a legal titan.” Eleanor Vance’s hand, polishing her glasses, stopped. “What exactly are you trying to say?” I stood up, hands braced on the desk, staring into her eyes. “I want to ask Professor Vance.” “Back then, you proclaimed procedural justice, upholding every letter of the law.” “But what about now?” I snatched up the ‘Notice of Investigation for Professional Misconduct.’ “No evidence collection, no defense, no hearing required!” “With just one word from you, the State Bar Association bypassed all proper procedures and blacklisted a practicing lawyer in ten minutes!” “Where is your so-called procedural justice now?!” The office instantly fell silent. “You use privilege to oppress victims, and dirty hands to interfere with justice.” “To protect your hit-and-run son, you’ve trampled on the very beliefs you championed your entire life!” “Eleanor Vance, is this your original intention as a lawyer?!” Eleanor Vance took a deep breath. The gentle, scholarly facade on her face shattered. Replaced by cold arrogance. “What a sharp-tongued young man.” “You want to talk to me about intentions? About procedure?” She stood up, meticulously adjusting her cuffs. “Twenty years ago, I still needed to rely on procedural justice to win the cases I needed to win.” “But twenty years later, in Evergreen City…” She abruptly leaned forward. “I am justice. I am the rule!” “Tomorrow, all city media will receive irrefutable evidence of your professional misconduct and extortion against the Campbell family.” She walked to the door, not even looking back. “Try to fight me, and you won’t even get through the courthouse doors.” The next morning. All major media outlets in Evergreen City simultaneously published reports. “Renowned lawyer Alex Miller accused of professional misconduct and extorting millions from the Campbell family; the State Bar Association has launched an investigation.” The accompanying image was a screenshot of me standing beside the briefcase. The law firm director’s call came in. My partnership status revoked. My lawyer’s license frozen. Judges and prosecutors I had worked with before all blocked me overnight. A text message from an unknown number popped up on my phone. [Young man, in Evergreen City, no one can change the rules I set.] Immediately after, the delivery driver’s husband called. Someone had told his wife that if she signed the settlement, the Campbell family would cover all remaining medical expenses. If not, she couldn’t even keep her current hospital bed. “Mr. Miller… should we sign it?” I gripped my phone. “Don’t sign. Wait for me.”

An edited recording was uploaded online. The footage of me telling the delivery driver’s husband, “I’ll take this case,” was transformed into ‘irrefutable evidence’ of a lawyer first demanding exorbitant fees, then inciting the client to reject a settlement. The last bit of public sympathy vanished. My name became synonymous with “crooked lawyer.” My personal information was dug up. My home address, the schools I attended. I turned off my phone. Sitting in my half-empty office. The door was pushed open. It was Grandma. She had come from the countryside. Her hands were covered in cracked skin, with decades of ingrained dirt in her fingernails that wouldn’t wash away. It was these hands. That had saved dollar by dollar for all my tuition, from elementary school to law school. “I know what you’re doing.” Grandma looked up. Tears streamed down her face. “But I’m scared.” “When your dad left, the road… it was all shattered…” “I… I didn’t even receive a single intact piece of his clothing…” Grandma covered her mouth. Her shoulders shook violently. “I’ve already lost a son.” “Alex, I can’t lose you too.” “Let it go…” I knelt down. And held her hands. “Grandma, this time is different.” I looked up. “Every debt owed will be paid, not a single one less.” “Did you bring that thing?” “I did, but I’m afraid…” “It’s okay, I’m here.” The next day. The Campbell family held a public press conference. The live stream started simultaneously, reaching over a million viewers within ten minutes. Eleanor Vance was the first to take the stage. Her prayer beads were replaced by a charity medal on her chest. Her tone was gentle, her eyes filled with perfectly placed tears. “I’ve done twenty years of charity work, built forty-three schools, and sponsored over two thousand underprivileged students.” “We are all heartbroken by the delivery driver’s injury.” “We immediately offered full medical compensation and lost wages.” “But that lawyer rejected all goodwill, determined to drag this family into court.” Her voice trembled. “I just want to ask one thing: who is truly harming that delivery driver?” The comments section exploded. [Ms. Campbell is right! That lawyer isn’t helping the delivery woman at all, just using a poor person to get famous!] [Could someone who’s done charity for twenty years be a bad person? It’s the suspended lawyer who’s full of dirty tricks!] Ethan Campbell was wheeled onto the stage. His arm was bandaged, his face pale. He kept his head down, his voice so soft it seemed fragile. “What happened that day… I know it was my fault.” “I’ve been blaming myself ever since, unable to sleep at night.” “I’m willing to take full responsibility and compensate for all damages.” “But that lawyer… he doesn’t want money, he doesn’t want a settlement; he wants to send me to jail.” He looked up. Tears fell. “I’m only twenty-four this year.” “I just made a mistake…” Eleanor Vance walked onto the stage, placing a sympathetic hand on Ethan’s wheelchair. She took the microphone and scanned the audience. “The law is not without compassion.” “Ethan is still a child; he has his whole life ahead of him.” “As a seasoned legal professional, and as a mother.” “I will never allow anyone with ulterior motives to use public opinion to ruin my son’s life!” *Bang!* The side door of the venue burst open. All cameras abruptly turned. I walked in, step by step, wearing my lawyer’s robe. “What a touching display of mother-son affection.” “But why didn’t you protect my father like that back then?” I looked at Eleanor Vance on stage, who was staring in shock, and spoke each word distinctly. “My dearest, Mother.”

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While walking and live streaming to my followers, I smiled weakly at the camera and slowly collapsed. As my viewers frantically called for help in the chat, armed sentries appeared in everyone’s view. I let myself faint, falling against a soldier’s solid chest. In my previous life, my advisor Dr. Marcus Reed stole core experimental data and sold it overseas. But the security footage showed me as the last person to access the lab. Two minutes after I left, a fire erupted, triggering an explosion in the research building and destroying all evidence. I had been asleep in my dorm. No one could provide me with an alibi. Convicted of arson causing massive property damage, I was sentenced to life in prison. I eventually died in a prison fight. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day of the fire. Since he could forge surveillance evidence against me, I would use ironclad proof to tear off his hypocritical mask. Without me as his scapegoat, how could he convince the university to accept responsibility for hundreds of millions in losses? **1.** I had been live streaming for half an hour of walking. Without any beauty filters, my face had become visibly pale. The chat comments had shifted from “This streamer is actually a PhD student, such advanced concepts!” and “Holy crap, the method she’s explaining could solve my current technical problem!” to “Streamer, do you researchers not exercise? You’re breathing really hard!” and “I recognize this road. Just a few more steps ahead, there’s a military base. Go there for help, you look like you’re about to pass out!” and “Oh my God, someone’s about to collapse right on my phone screen!” I looked up at the screen weakly. You could clearly see my forehead covered in cold sweat.”I really don’t feel well. Probably low blood sugar. I’m sorry.” Comments flooded the screen: “Stop talking! Someone please save her!” “Soldiers, help! This citizen is about to die!” Finally, I saw the base gates. I used my last bit of strength to hurry forward, stumbling as I crossed the yellow line. “Halt! State your purpose!” The sentry at the gate raised his weapon. Seeing someone with a selfie stick charging straight past the security line, he immediately went on alert. I kept my head down. The camera could capture my pale face and half-closed eyes, but the sentry couldn’t see. From his perspective, an unidentified person was ignoring his warning and rushing toward the military installation. One sentry raised his rifle while another called for backup, approaching me cautiously. Then I crashed heavily into him and collapsed limply to the ground. Squinting at the time through barely open eyes: 9:48 PM. Seven minutes until the fire. I gasped heavily as my tense nerves suddenly relaxed, and my consciousness began to fade. I felt someone shaking me. Struggling to open my eyes, unable to see the face clearly, I tried to speak loudly but my voice came out barely audible, until he put his ear close to my mouth. “I’m sorry… I’m not a threat… I’m still streaming. Could you help me turn it off?” The last thing the stream captured was a military cap. As consciousness faded, I saw my previous life. Being dragged out of bed with the covers ripped off became my lifelong nightmare. Standing in thin pajamas, surrounded by police and university administrators, facing their harsh questions about why I set the fire, all I could do was weakly deny it. “I didn’t do it.” Nothing else. As the cold handcuffs locked around my wrists, I felt my entire life being shackled. During my days and nights in prison, I ran through countless scenarios. The best possibility was that it had been an electrical short circuit, not intentional arson, which might have meant a lighter sentence. But I had no way to prove that the last person to access the lab wasn’t me. The surveillance clearly showed me entering and leaving the building. The lab access logs showed my credentials. The evidence was solid enough to crush me. It wasn’t until a year later, when my advisor took a teaching position in America and published research results based on my core technology, that I understood. The fire’s purpose wasn’t to destroy something, but to cover something up. And now, without my cooperation, who else could help him smuggle things right under everyone’s noses? **2.** I felt someone moving me. I struggled to open my eyes. My vision was too blurry. I could only desperately grab onto whoever was wearing the uniform. “Miss, let go so the medic can examine you.” I didn’t want a medic. I didn’t want to go to the hospital. I needed to stay under the base’s surveillance. Someone was prying my fingers open. It hurt. Tears streamed down continuously, but I refused to let go no matter what, using every ounce of strength. “She’s probably scared from earlier. Nothing serious, just low blood sugar. Since she won’t let go, just carry her to the duty room.” I stopped struggling, letting them carry me through the base gates. I stared up at the security camera at the entrance. Such solid evidence. Someone put a piece of candy in my mouth. Slowly, I regained a bit of strength and could sit up. A group of people surrounded me. None of the stern, cold faces from my previous life. Their concerned expressions made tears pour down my face. “Miss, feeling better?” Seeing some life return to my eyes, a lieutenant next to me asked with concern. The grievance in my heart surged up like a flood breaking through a dam, unstoppable. I began sobbing uncontrollably. The clock on the wall seemed like a countdown, bringing me closer to safety. 9:50 PM. Marcus Reed must already be in the lab copying my data, right? I had considered reporting him to catch him in the act, but then I realized he hadn’t just forged my access card but had also tampered with the university’s surveillance footage. That wasn’t something a newly returned PhD advisor of less than a year could accomplish alone. 9:53 PM. My crying turned to hiccups. The people around me went from being flustered to calm, handing me water and tissues. Marcus had already locked up and left. I didn’t know what method he used to start the fire. Theoretically, the lab had comprehensive power cutoff protection and fire prevention measures. How could it catch fire so easily, let alone spread and cause an explosion in the research building? 9:54 PM. My emotions gradually settled. The lieutenant’s voice couldn’t suppress his amusement: “Miss, you’re the best crier I’ve ever seen.” I smiled sheepishly, pursing my lips. I had been terrified by what happened to me, but also grateful for my second chance. Heaven knows, when I discovered I had been reborn one hour before the fire, the burst of joy nearly overwhelmed me. “Can’t stay in the dorm!” was my only thought at the time. I grabbed my essentials and immediately escaped. Sitting in the taxi, I came back to my senses and started thinking about what else I could do. I usually recorded some videos without showing my face, sharing study tips and methods. Now I decided to stream with my face visible, letting all my viewers bear witness for me. Collapsing at the military base gate was pure coincidence. When I was reborn, I had been up for over twenty hours and was about to sleep. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been sleeping so deeply that I didn’t even know a fire had started. The combined mental and physical pressure was too much. Given my current condition, the low blood sugar hit at just the right time. “Should I call an ambulance for you?” The lieutenant looked at me with a smile. “You’re still frighteningly pale.” 9:55 PM. The second hand seemed to tick against my heart. “Yes, thank you so much.” I stopped my sniffling and thanked him. **3.** The fire trucks arrived before the ambulance. Several fire engines rushed past with sirens blaring. Through the window, I stared blankly as the red lights disappeared into the distance. “We’ve verified all your documents. Here, keep them safe.” I snapped back to attention and accepted the documents the lieutenant handed me. All my IDs: driver’s license, student card, lab access card. “Don’t worry, we’ll go with you to the hospital.” His hearty voice gave me an immense sense of security, so much so that I fell asleep before the ambulance arrived, until my body was suddenly yanked, nearly throwing me out of bed. “Olivia Summers, you’re suspected of arson. We need you to cooperate with our investigation!” The same cold, severe voice from my previous life made me shiver. My head was still somewhat foggy. I looked at the crowd before me without focus and asked in confusion, “What?” “You think hospitalizing yourself will clear you of guilt?” The dean’s voice was hoarse, looking like he hadn’t slept all night. “Olivia Summers, you were caught on surveillance fleeing after committing arson.” Marcus Reed still had that refined, scholarly demeanor, using the gentlest tone to condemn me. “You’ve made no progress on your experiments recently and put too much pressure on yourself.” “I told her I wouldn’t let her delay graduation, but who knew she’d be so extreme? She’d rather destroy everything than admit she wasn’t capable.” He explained to the dean and police like a caring mentor. “This is definitely her fault, but I hope you can go easy on her given her youth and give her a lighter sentence.” The police ignored his soft pleas and said coldly to me, “She’s an adult. She needs to take responsibility for her actions.” “What exactly happened?” I asked, looking completely confused. “Still pretending!” The dean pointed at me furiously. “Last night, minutes after you left the lab, it caught fire!” “The fire spread and caused an explosion. Half the research building was destroyed!” “The entire campus stayed up all night, but you had the nerve to hide in a hospital and sleep!” He turned to the police in frustration. “Captain Wilson, take her away. I have nothing more to say to her.” “I never went near the academic building last night.” I propped myself up on the hospital bed, leaning forward, desperately trying to make them believe me. “I have no reason to burn down the building. Please believe me!” No matter how sincere or anxious I was, everyone around me looked at me coldly, as if I were a clown throwing a tantrum. “You should be grateful no one was hurt, or we wouldn’t be speaking to you so nicely.” “I’m the captain of the city’s detective unit. I’m officially notifying you that you’re under arrest. Take her!” He grabbed my arm and pulled me out of bed roughly. I stood barefoot on the floor. The icy tiles sent a chill that froze my heart. The female officer next to me gripped my wrist tightly, the cold handcuffs about to snap shut. “What are you doing!” A forceful shout from the doorway interrupted her action. A young man in military uniform stood holding a food container, frowning as he glared at the room full of people. “Who are you?” Marcus asked gently. “Are you Olivia’s boyfriend?” One sentence immediately diminished the authority conveyed by the uniform. “The lieutenant sent me to look after her.” The young soldier ignored Marcus and spoke directly to Captain Wilson in his police uniform. “What’s going on? She’s still a patient!” “She’s suspected of arson causing major property damage. We need to take her to the station.” Captain Wilson responded matter-of-factly. The soldier looked at me with difficulty. Seeing my pleading eyes, he thought for a moment, then stepped directly in front of me. “I’m going with her, and I’ll notify our lieutenant. You’re not taking her anywhere otherwise.”

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