My daughter always loves to tell the “truth.” I asked her, “Is Mommy pretty?” She said, “Mom, I’m telling the truth—you’re the ugliest mom in the whole kindergarten.” When my mother-in-law pointed at my nose and called me wasteful for buying my daughter an expensive backpack, I asked her how she felt about it. She said, “Honestly? I’m actually pretty happy when you get yelled at, Mom.” My husband jokingly asked her if she’d take care of me when I got old. She said, “I’m not taking care of her. When she’s old, she should just die already.” My heart sank. But she just smiled with her eyes crinkling: “I’m just telling the truth!” Later, when officers came for a household registration check, they asked my daughter a few routine questions. Once again, she told the “truth.” But this time, she regretted it for the rest of her life. **01** During the household registration check, police officers came to our door. My seven-year-old daughter blinked her big eyes and asked: “Why do you need to register all this?” The officer ruffled my daughter’s hair: “It’s for government policy, and also to prevent human trafficking.” My daughter nodded, then suddenly her face lit up with realization: “Oh, I get it! You’re looking for traffickers! That’s my mom, isn’t it?” “She said it herself yesterday—she kidnapped me!” The officer’s smile instantly froze on his face. I stared at my daughter in shock, catching the cunning flash in her eyes as my mind went numb. My daughter had always enjoyed saying these “truths” to cause me pain and embarrassment. Yesterday I wouldn’t let her eat too many snacks, so she said I was an evil mother and that she didn’t want to be my daughter. I’d been angry at the time: “You’re right, you’re not my daughter. I kidnapped you!” She’d immediately said she didn’t believe it. But I never expected that today she’d take the very thing she claimed not to believe and present it as “the truth” to the police. The officer’s expression as he looked at me had already changed. I forced out a dry laugh: “She was misbehaving yesterday, so I said something I didn’t mean. I didn’t think she’d take it seriously.” The officer’s brow finally relaxed, and he told my daughter: “Sweetie, you can’t joke about things like this. If your mom gets mistaken for a trafficker, she could go to jail.” When I saw my daughter nod, my racing heart calmed down. I thought that would be the end of it. But the next second, my daughter’s face turned completely sincere: “But my mom can’t have children. If I wasn’t kidnapped, how else did I get here?” The officer’s gaze became scrutinizing and suspicious as he looked at me. I quickly explained: “After I had my daughter, I got an IUD. When she says I can’t have children, that’s probably what she means.” I tugged at my daughter’s hand, signaling her to stop talking. But she wouldn’t listen: “No, Mom couldn’t have kids even when she first got married, but I’m already this old.” I didn’t know how a seven-year-old girl could think of this angle. But when you examined her words closely, it was hard not to become suspicious. My husband and I had been married for six years, and I’d had an IUD for six years—so how could we have a seven-year-old daughter? The officer had obviously thought of this too, and his expression grew serious. “Let me see the child’s birth certificate.” My heart dropped. We didn’t have a birth certificate for my daughter. Six years ago, I’d desperately rescued her from a trafficker—she’d been a kidnapped child. When the police pulled up her biological parents’ file, they were too shocked to speak. My husband’s and my expressions went through several changes. Our only thought at the time was: “If we send this child back to her biological parents, living might be worse than death for her.” My husband and I couldn’t bear it, so we’d raised her until now. My daughter probably thought what I’d said was just something said in anger, but she didn’t know that angry words could also be the truth. We hadn’t told her because we were afraid she’d feel like she was living under someone else’s roof. But now, if I didn’t come clean, I might actually be taken away by the police. Just as I was about to speak, my daughter suddenly shouted: “Oh! I just remembered!” “Mom got pregnant before marriage! She got pregnant with me first, then got married! That’s what adults mean when they talk about being improper before marriage!” I froze in place. If what my daughter said were actually true, I’d probably want to crawl into a hole right now. But my silence at this moment was due to a chill in my heart. My daughter thought she’d hurt me, and the corners of her mouth curved up with excitement. “Mom, I’m just telling the truth to help clear things up. Don’t be mad at me, okay?” The officer’s complicated gaze withdrew from me as he continued registering information. In a corner no one was watching, my hands clenched tight, desperately suppressing the surge of emotions. This wasn’t the first time my daughter had done something like this… **02** When she was in kindergarten, she often praised other people’s mothers in front of me, saying how beautiful they were. I asked her, “Isn’t Mommy beautiful?” But my daughter stared right into my eyes and said, “Mom’s not beautiful at all!” “Mom is the ugliest mom in the whole kindergarten!” I froze instantly. Seeing my daughter’s eyes smiling and looking so happy, I couldn’t help but say: “When you talk like that, it really hurts Mommy’s feelings.” But unexpectedly, my daughter said very seriously: “But teacher says good children should always tell the truth!” I was speechless for a moment, feeling vaguely that something was off. Logically, children should have a natural filter when it comes to the people who raised them, including their appearance. But my daughter seemed different. Later, when my daughter started elementary school, I spent a hundred dollars on an Elsa princess backpack she liked. When my mother-in-law found out the price, she pointed at my nose and called me wasteful. But my daughter treated her grandmother’s scolding as background noise and spun around dancing in the living room. I couldn’t help but ask my daughter: “You heard Grandma yelling at me. Don’t you have any thoughts about that?” My daughter’s eyes rolled around, and finally she looked at me intently: “I do! I feel really happy!” Seeing the genuine smile on my daughter’s face, my expression instantly froze. My daughter stared at me for a long time, then said: “Mom, don’t be angry. I’m just telling the truth.” Last month, my daughter got sick and I took care of her around the clock for a whole month. My husband saw that I’d lost a lot of weight and asked my daughter tenderly, “Mom took care of you growing up. Will you take care of Mom when she’s old?” My daughter glanced at me, pouted and said: “No way! When Mom gets old, she should just die already!” My husband’s body stiffened, and the color drained completely from my face. What’s worse, when my daughter saw our reaction, she actually started dancing around happily. I didn’t say another word the whole way home. My daughter even asked me: “Mom, are you unhappy again because of my truth?” That night, I barely slept at all. My husband also tossed and turned, and suddenly said in the silence: “What she says… it’s probably just jokes, right?” Even he didn’t sound certain. Every time I was in pain because of my daughter’s words, a glint of secret pleasure would flash in her eyes. Then she’d use the same trick again, blocking any response from me with “I’m just telling the truth.” Thinking of this, I could barely control my emotions. I quickly opened the door, wanting to see the officer out. “Officer!” My daughter called out just in time to stop the officer who had one foot out the door. “If I find out Mom really is a trafficker, can I call the police?” The officer looked at my daughter with a complicated expression, then looked at me. Finally, he slipped a contact card into my daughter’s hand before leaving. **03** After the police left, my daughter tilted her head and studied me. When she saw that my expression hadn’t changed, disappointment flashed in her eyes. I couldn’t help but ask my daughter: “Why did you say those things to the officer just now?” My daughter put her hands on her hips and tilted her head back, looking completely matter-of-fact: “I’m a good kid who tells the truth!” “You should blame yourself, Mom! You’re the one who said I was kidnapped when you got angry!” Only then did I truly confirm that she’d told the police on purpose, intending to punish me for what I’d said yesterday in anger. I clenched my fists and asked her: “What if Mom really did take you from a trafficker, but because your real parents were bad people, I didn’t return you to them? Would you really call the officer and have Mom sent to jail?” My daughter nodded without hesitation. “Of course! Mom, I’m a good kid who tells the truth!” My heart instantly sank to rock bottom. I don’t know when my husband came back, but he’d been standing in the doorway for a while, his face frighteningly dark. But he still suppressed his emotions to comfort me: “Maybe… she’ll grow out of it.” My daughter cheered up again, completely ignoring our pain. I couldn’t help but think: if my husband and I worked hard our whole lives only to raise an ungrateful wolf, why not cut our losses now? But after raising her for so many years, I still wanted to give her one last chance. I looked at the business card on the table and deliberately said: “Lucy, you really were kidnapped by me. In the safe at home, there’s still your original file—it was taken from your biological parents’ household registration.” “If you keep using ‘telling the truth’ to hurt us, your dad and I are going to send you back to your biological parents.” After hearing my words, fear appropriate for her age finally appeared on my daughter’s young face. She asked my husband urgently: “Dad, is it true?” My husband suppressed his irritation: “Your mom’s just joking with you.” The panic on my daughter’s face gradually faded. She pouted at me: “I knew it wasn’t true! I wish I really did have other parents! I hate you, Mom!” My husband’s expression darkened further. But her attention was on me. I cooperatively showed a hurt expression, and only then did she break into a smile. In that moment, what was there left for me to understand? My daughter had always thought she was our biological child, so she hurt me again and again without fear of consequences. My heart turned completely cold. That night, just as I was drifting off to sleep, I suddenly heard the sound of someone turning the bedroom door handle. A small figure crept into my bedroom. After a minute, that figure left my room. From outside the room came a deliberately hushed child’s voice. “Hello, is this the police? I’m telling the truth—my mom really is a trafficker. The evidence is hidden in the safe. You need to come arrest her!” **04** The police arrived incredibly fast. I’d barely put on my jacket when the door was broken down from outside. My daughter ran crying into the officer’s arms, pointing at me with a frightened face: “My mom is a trafficker! Mom said I was kidnapped!” The officer didn’t notice, but I clearly saw the gleam in my daughter’s eyes. It was that look of smug satisfaction, knowing she could use “the truth” to get me again. The officer pressed his baton against my shoulder, his voice full of authority: “Please open the safe and let us take a look.” My husband was woken by the commotion and rushed out. When he heard “safe,” he instinctively panicked. “You can’t open it!” Seeing this, the officer signaled his colleagues to pick the lock. I saw the tools scattered on the floor and looked at my daughter. “Lucy, Dad already told you this afternoon it was just a joke. Why did you still call the police? Is that what telling the truth means?” But my daughter pressed her lips shut tight, not mentioning a word of what my husband had said. I looked at my daughter meaningfully. “You’ll regret it when they open the safe.” My daughter pursed her lips and let out a heavy huff. “Mom can never tell the difference between jokes and the truth. I’m punishing you, Mom.” “From now on, Mom will be like Lucy and only tell the truth.” The police broke through the first lock on the safe. The safe opened, revealing a sealed small box inside. I asked my daughter, “If it’s proven that you’re not my daughter, will you go back to your biological parents?” My daughter answered quickly: “Yes!” “Every time I tell the truth, Mom gets unhappy. I hate you, Mom!” Whatever small bit of compassion I still had for her completely vanished. The sealed box was a high-density container I’d purchased—very difficult to pry open. I watched the officer sweating profusely as he worked on it, then spoke up: “I can open it with the password, as long as Lucy signs a termination of adoption agreement with me.” My daughter didn’t understand what a termination of adoption agreement was, but she noticed that I really didn’t want the box opened, so she quickly nodded. She pressed her handprint on the agreement. I entered my daughter’s birthday and opened the small box. Three documents lay inside. The first was an adoption agreement. The second was a news report from when I’d rescued her from traffickers six years ago. The third was information about her biological parents. When the officer saw the first document, he said nothing. When he saw the second document, his expression was shocked. He read it over several times, and when he looked up, his eyes were full of admiration: “You risked your life to rescue a child from traffickers? That’s incredibly brave!” My daughter heard the officer praising me instead of criticizing me, and even giving me a thumbs up. She froze in place. The officer didn’t marvel for long. Due to his professional training, he quickly opened the third file. With just one glance, he froze. As if unable to believe it, he suddenly looked up at me. “This… this… are you sure? The child’s biological parents?” “You’re really going to send her back to them?” The other officers who hadn’t seen the file didn’t understand. They all went over to look. The next instant, they all simultaneously looked at my daughter with sympathy. Everyone was waiting for my answer. I just closed my eyes and nodded: “The termination agreement is signed. There’s no going back.” In this scenario, my daughter seemed to suddenly understand everything. Terror appeared on her face.

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Eight years of secretly loving Liam Smith, and I finally slept with him. The next day, I overheard him on the patio, taking a call: “It was just a one-night stand. Marry her? You’ve got to be kidding. Just give her some money and send her packing.” I didn’t cry or make a scene. I got dressed, went home, and dragged out the box filled with eight years of memories. Stolen photos, movie ticket stubs, a button he’d lost—everything went straight into a black trash bag. As the garbage truck rumbled past, crushing everything, I breathed a sigh of relief. Later, that same man who said “just give her some money and send her packing” was impaled through the back by a scorching steel pipe, saving me. He held me, covered in blood, and whispered a secret: “Actually… I’m a werewolf, which is why I had to push you away. But now, I regret it.” Emma Johnson pov Eight years of secretly loving Liam Smith, and I finally slept with him. It was unexpected, absurd, yet somehow, perfectly natural. I woke up at six in the morning. It had rained all night in London. I picked up my clothes from the floor and went into the bathroom to shower. My reflection in the mirror showed hickeys all over my body, and a clear tooth mark just above my collarbone. As I leaned closer to examine it, I heard movement outside. Liam was awake, on the phone. Through the half-open glass door, his voice was deep and husky, carrying the lazy drawl of after-sex. “I drank too much last night, didn’t even see who it was.” The person on the other end was probably one of his friends, teasing him. Liam lit a cigarette, his tone so indifferent it was almost cold. “Who told you to drug her? Don’t use those tactics again.” A cloud of smoke curled around him, and he paused, a hint of annoyance in his voice: “I didn’t just mark her, last night was her first time… What do you want me to do? Take her to a formal mate ceremony before the Moongoddess?” A scoff. “Don’t be ridiculous. The Elder Council would never allow me to marry a mere human… Yeah, yeah, a lot of them can’t find their fated mate, but I’m an Alpha.” “I’ll figure out the mark issue. As for compensation… you can give her a card later, she can fill in any amount she wants. Enough for her to live comfortably for the rest of her life. Consider it settling eight years of acquaintance.” My hand, halfway buttoning my shirt, froze. Blood rushed away from my head, my limbs turning cold, so much so that the strange parts of his words were instinctively ignored. To him, my eight years of careful companionship, that one night of passion, could only be quantified into a cold string of numbers. And topped off with, “Don’t be ridiculous.” I didn’t cry. I showered swiftly, got dressed, and quietly left the villa that had imprisoned my youth. Back home, my father was sitting on the sofa, sighing. On the coffee table lay a pile of photos—potential suitors he’d had someone scout for me. “Emma, I know you like Liam. But his status… we can’t afford to reach that high. I’m getting old, my health isn’t what it used to be. I just want to see you settle down with a normal guy…” Before, I would’ve stayed silent, resisted, or found an excuse to go back to my room. But today, I walked over, my gaze sweeping across the photos. None of them looked like Liam. That was good. I pointed to one at random: “This one will do.” My father looked stunned, almost disbelieving: “This is Noah Davis, a doctor. He’s very gentle, but he’s moving to New York for work. If you marry him, you might have to leave home…” “It’s fine.” I cut him off. “The farther, the better. Dad, arrange for us to meet.” My father was overjoyed and immediately went to make a call. I returned to my room and dragged out a locked box from the back of my closet. It contained everything related to Liam. In high school, Liam was on the baseball team, the best player, according to the coach. I went to every one of his games and kept countless photos. There were also movie ticket stubs from the films we watched together over those eight years. Even a button that had fallen off his shirt. I found a large black trash bag and dumped that box of treasures, along with the heart that had loved Liam for eight years, all inside. I tied the bag shut and tossed it into the downstairs trash bin. The garbage truck rumbled past, crushing everything. I looked at the empty room and let out a long breath.

Emma Johnson pov The meeting with Noah Davis went smoother than I could have imagined. Noah wore gold-rimmed glasses, looking gentle and refined, speaking with a mild-mannered politeness. He didn’t have Liam’s overbearing presence; he was like a glass of plain water, comfortable but unremarkable. Suitable for marriage, suitable for life. “Ms. Johnson, my situation should have been explained to you by the matchmaker.” Noah refilled my water glass. “I’m moving to New York next month, and I might settle there. If you’re willing, we can get married first, and you can join me after you’ve sorted out your work here.” The pace was surprisingly fast, almost as if it were a task to be completed. But I only thought for three seconds: “Okay.” Noah looked up, a little surprised: “Don’t you want to think about it more? Marriage is a big decision, after all.” “No need to think.” I lowered my gaze, stirring the water in my glass. “I want a change of scenery, a fresh start.” Noah smiled, a genuinely happy smile: “What a coincidence, so do I.” We clicked instantly. The dinner, though lacking passion, was remarkably relaxed. No one had to look up to anyone, no one had to try to please anyone by cramming up on their hobbies or learning to play difficult games. Since I’d decided to leave, the first thing I did when I got back to the magazine office was hand in my resignation. My editor, Mr. Harrison, frowned as he read my letter. “It’s not that I don’t want you to leave. You’re a key member of our team; losing you would be a big blow. Besides, you haven’t finished that feature on London’s new elite.” Mr. Harrison tapped on his desk and laid out his terms: “How about this: the last guest for the feature is Liam Smith. Everyone in London knows he never gives exclusive interviews, but you know him well. If you can get an exclusive with him, even just for ten minutes, I’ll sign your resignation immediately and double your bonus for this month.” My fingers, clutching the resignation letter, whitened slightly. Liam. Always Liam. His name seemed impossible to shake off. “Mr. Harrison, can’t someone else do it?” “No.” Mr. Harrison’s attitude was firm. “Only you can do it. If this article isn’t finished, your resignation process might take three months to go through.” I was silent for a long time. To leave London cleanly, to completely sever the past. One last meeting. After this, I’d never see him again. I pulled out my phone, found the number that had been pinned at the top for eight years but which I’d never dared to dial. My fingertip hovered above the screen, trembled, and finally pressed down. It rang once before being answered. The other end was noisy, like people were playing cards. Then there was the sound of footsteps, and the surroundings quieted. Liam’s voice came through the receiver, tinged with a casual mockery: “You’ve been avoiding me for three days. Finally decided to call?” He knew I was avoiding him, of course. I took a deep breath and spoke in a professional tone: “Mr. Smith, our magazine would like to do an exclusive interview with you. Do you have any availability?” There was a two-second silence on the other end, followed by a soft scoff. “Emma, since when did you start keeping your distance from me?” Liam seemed to be in a good mood, not annoyed by the formal address. “I’m at the club. Come over now.” He rattled off a name. I knew the place; that club was owned by Ethan, Liam’s assistant. They always chose that place for their gatherings. Apparently, because Ethan could always get drinks no other place had. “It’s working hours right now…” “Then forget the interview.” Liam cut me off, his voice carrying his usual arrogance and possessiveness. “If I don’t see you here within half an hour, the interview’s off.” With that, he hung up. I stared at the darkened screen, putting my phone away. I turned and called my photographer: “Let’s go, to the club.” Mike looked shocked: “My god, you’re amazing! You actually managed to get him!” I didn’t say anything. Amazing? That was a “privilege” I’d earned through eight years of heartbreak and effort. And today, I was going to tear that privilege to shreds and throw it in the trash.

Emma Johnson pov The bouncer at the club didn’t stop me. He knew who I was and that Liam allowed me to enter. But my photographer was stopped outside, the reason being that private clubs prohibited all photography. I had to tell him to wait in the car. As soon as I stepped inside, eyes immediately fell on me, filled with surprise and curiosity. But soon, Liam’s bodyguard personally came to greet me, leading me up to the second floor. Those strange looks quickly turned into respect. I didn’t understand how Liam managed to command such respect everywhere he went. He was just a wealthy man with a terrible personality. The private room door opened. The air inside was thick with smoke and heavy with the smell of alcohol. A group of Liam’s friends were laughing with their female companions. When they saw me enter, the room quieted for a moment, then erupted in louder jeers. “Isn’t that Emma? Long time no see!” “Wow, you’ve got a lot of pull! Haven’t seen her in three days, and now she’s here checking up on you?” The man sitting on the central sofa was wearing a black shirt, two buttons undone at the collar. He was toying with a lighter, its flame flickering on and off, illuminating his sharply chiseled face—a face that could make countless women fall head over heels. Liam Smith. He leaned back lazily against the chair, his gaze cutting through the crowd and landing on me. His eyes lingered on me for a moment, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly before smoothing out. He then patted the empty spot beside him. “Come here.” It was like he was calling a well-trained pet. Before, I would’ve meekly walked over, sat down, poured him a drink, and done whatever he told me. But this time, I resisted the urge to obey. “Mr. Smith, I’m in a hurry. Can we do the interview here?” I pulled out my equipment. “About fifteen minutes.” The atmosphere in the room instantly turned cold. Everyone exchanged glances. Liam’s hand, toying with the lighter, paused. The lid snapped shut. His eyes, in the dim light, turned silver, but quickly reverted to blue, as if it had just been my imagination. “Emma, what’s with the act?” “Mr. Smith, you’re mistaken.” I turned on my voice recorder, looking him straight in the eye. “It’s just work. If it’s inconvenient, we can reschedule or have someone else come.” With that, I started to pack up my things. “Stop.” Liam’s face hardened. He slammed his glass on the table, making a sharp clinking sound. “Everyone out.” He waved his hand at the others. Though curious, no one dared to push their luck. They all filed out with their companions, but as they passed me, their eyes held curious, almost theatrical gazes. The private room door closed. Only the two of us remained in the vast space. The lights were dim, the air thick with expensive cologne and stale cigarette smoke. Liam stood up and walked towards me, step by step. He was tall, intensely intimidating. He leaned down, close to my face, his warm breath fanning my ear: “Still mad about that morning? Didn’t I say Ethan would send you a card? Not enough money?” I took a half-step back, avoiding his breath. “I didn’t take the card. It’s already been mailed back to your company’s front desk.” I looked up. “Liam, that day was an accident. We’re both adults; let’s just move on. I’m only here today for work.” “Move on?” Liam laughed as if he’d heard a joke, then suddenly reached out and squeezed my chin. “Emma, you chased me for eight years, why are you pretending to be so carefree now? I don’t believe you don’t feel anything for me. That night, you clearly…” “That was because of the drugs.” I cut him off. “Mr. Smith, I’m resigning. This exclusive interview is my last task at this company. After I finish this, I’m leaving London. From now on, we shouldn’t meet again.” Liam’s fingers tightened abruptly, with so much force it made me wince. “Leaving London? Going where?” A beast’s growl seemed to rise in his throat, sounding incredibly dangerous. “That’s none of your business.” “To avoid me?” A flicker of anger flared in Liam’s eyes. “Emma, are you serious? Just because I didn’t give you a title? You never used to care about that.” “I was foolish before.” I forcefully pried his hand open, took two steps back, and smoothed out my wrinkled collar. “Now I understand. A great family heir like you isn’t suited for an ordinary human like me. I apologize for any past intrusions. It won’t happen again.” An ordinary human? He’d said something similar that day. The wording was strange, but I figured I must have misheard him. I raised my voice recorder again: “Mr. Smith, my first question is about the Smith Group’s strategic layout for the next quarter…” Liam stared at me. He was so furious he laughed, sitting back on the sofa, lighting a cigarette, his gaze dark and brooding. “Fine, very good. You want an interview? Ask away. I’d like to see how long you can keep up this act.”

Emma Johnson pov The interview was incredibly difficult. Liam was uncooperative, even deliberately obstructive. No matter what I asked, he answered distractedly, even intentionally steering the conversation towards his personal life, trying to provoke me. “Regarding the recent rumors of a strategic alliance through marriage…” “Not interested.” Liam cut me off, suddenly leaning forward, his gaze intense. “I’m currently more interested in women who seem all prim and proper on the surface, but secretly go all out for a man. Do you have any recommendations?” As he leaned closer, the tooth mark on my collarbone, which had never faded, began to burn. I swallowed, suppressing the urge to kiss him, and continued with my questions. “What’s your take on the online rumors that members of the Smith family possess some kind of special supernatural identity?” Liam was silent for a moment. “Online speculation can’t be taken seriously. Otherwise, I’d be ruling humanity directly, not sitting here for your interview.” Honestly, I also thought those speculations were far-fetched. But suddenly, some of Liam’s oddities flashed through my mind. Like how incredibly fast he ran in high school. Like how he always seemed to take time off on the night of every full moon, claiming it was for a family dinner. And… how his eyes sometimes turned silver. I closed my notebook, refusing to let my thoughts wander further. As a journalist, I needed to be professional, not indulge in wild guesses. “Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Smith. I have enough material.” Just as I was about to stand up, the private room door was suddenly pushed open. A beautiful blonde woman with long, flowing hair burst in. She had a vibrant, bold beauty, completely different from mine. “Liam! I heard you were here.” Sophia Miller flung herself at Liam like a butterfly, kissing him directly on the corner of his mouth. It was Sophia Miller. Liam’s latest rumored girlfriend, the one who’d posted flirty captions on Ins. She had a wolf-head tattoo on her arm, just like the one on Liam’s chest. Probably matching couple tattoos. Liam turned his head to dodge her lips but didn’t push her away. His gaze swept over Sophia’s head, fixed on me, as if expecting my reaction. I merely glanced, giving Sophia a polite nod: “Ms. Miller, hello.” Then I turned to Liam: “Mr. Smith, since you have company, I won’t disturb you further. I’ll send you the draft for your review once it’s written.” With that, I turned and left, my steps quick, without a single lingering look. But I still heard the voices behind me. Sophia sounded a bit confused: “Liam, who was that? She seemed… odd.” He abruptly shook off Sophia’s hand, then impatiently swept the glass off the table, sending it crashing to the floor. “Get out.” Sophia jumped, startled: “Liam…” “All of you, get out!” Liam roared. The pain from the tooth mark vanished. It was all too strange, but forgive me for not wanting any more involvement with Liam. I wasn’t going to turn back to ask him about it. When I left the club, the wind outside was cold, clearing my head. Mike, the photographer, was already restless in the car. Seeing me, he quickly started the engine: “How was it? Did you get it?” “I got it.” I tossed the voice recorder into my bag, leaning back against the seat, exhausted. “Let’s head back to the office.” Back at the newsroom, I rushed to finish the article overnight. I sent the draft to Mr. Harrison, with a short message: “Task completed. Please sign off.” Mr. Harrison was probably surprised by my efficiency. He didn’t make it difficult for me and promptly approved my resignation. The moment the formalities were done, I stood outside the company building, looking at the bustling city, feeling only a sense of liberation. I sent Noah a message: “I’ve resigned.” Noah replied almost instantly: “Congratulations. To celebrate your newfound freedom, how about dinner tonight? I’ve booked a restaurant.” I thought for a moment, then replied: “Okay.” I hadn’t told anyone that I’d already bought my plane ticket to New York for the day after tomorrow. This dinner would be a farewell. A farewell to the past, and a farewell to this city.

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At eighteen, fueled by alcohol, I confessed my feelings to Ethan Lynwood. He was my guardian. He had saved me from a fire when I was twelve, and I had loved him for ten whole years. Instead, he reacted with utter disgust. “Stella, what kind of sick thoughts are rattling around in your head?” He quickly found a girlfriend, Chloe, just to make me give up. Ethan asked me to design their engagement rings myself. I didn’t want to design wedding rings for the man I loved, knowing they were for another woman. But Chloe affectionately linked her arm through mine. “Stella, please, just this once?” Before I could even speak, Ethan’s cold gaze landed on me. “Since Chloe wants it, you draw it. The Lynwood family has provided for you for ten years. This is your responsibility.” I smiled. The next day, while taking measurements, Chloe “accidentally” spilled scorching hot tea all over my right hand, the one I used for drawing. I trembled with pain. Ethan pushed open the door, and Chloe threw herself into his arms, crying. He didn’t even glance at my hand. Instead, he snapped, “Stella, are you done making a scene?” Later, I discovered that even the exclusive flower studio he had given me for my eighteenth birthday, my sanctuary, had been ordered cleared out for Chloe to arrange flowers. Ten years of hard work, thrown out like trash. I finally understood it was time to leave.

Stella POV In the quiet bedroom, the computer notification chimed, a jarring sound. I lowered my eyes, my gaze fixed on the email from Paris on the screen. “Dear Ms. Brooks, your transfer request has been approved. Please report to the L’Étoile Jewelry Paris headquarters on the twenty-fifth of next month.” My mouse cursor hovered over the “Confirm” button for two seconds, then I pressed it without hesitation. After confirming the send, the tension in my shoulders, which had been tight for half a month, finally released. A profound emptiness followed. I raised my left hand, my fingertips lightly tracing the jagged burn scar on my wrist. Ten years ago, a sudden fire consumed the Brooks family home, taking my parents with it. It was Ethan Lynwood, then twenty-two, who bravely rushed into the flames and carried me, a twelve-year-old girl, out. From that day on, I became the adopted daughter of the Lynwood family, and Ethan became my guardian. He taught me to read, watched me grow up, and gave me all his favoritism and indulgence. A young girl’s heart began to take root in the daily kindness, growing into a towering tree. At eighteen, fueled by alcohol, I dared to confess my feelings to him. What I got in return was Ethan’s look of utter disgust. “Stella, I raised you like my own daughter. What kind of filthy thoughts are in your head? You are sick.” His words were like a knife, plunging deep into my heart. After that, he withdrew all his warmth, becoming cold and distant. A month ago, he brought Chloe home, just to make me give up entirely. Laughter and joyful chatter from outside the door interrupted my thoughts. I stood up, pushed open my door, and walked to the railing on the second floor. The living room downstairs was brightly lit, filled with Ethan’s relatives and friends. Ethan stood tall in a custom-tailored designer suit. Beside him, Chloe wore a white dress, their fingers intertwined like a loving couple. “Thank you all for coming today.” Ethan raised his glass, his usually stern eyes softening only when he looked at Chloe. “My engagement party with Chloe is on the twentieth of next month. We hope you’ll all join us.” The living room erupted in enthusiastic applause and blessings. I stood in the shadows, watching the scene. My heart didn’t feel much pain anymore. Perhaps a month of seeing Ethan and Chloe’s intimacy had completely numbed me. I turned to go back to my room, but Ethan’s gaze found me precisely. “Stella.” His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried undeniable authority. “Come down.” All eyes instantly converged on me. I paused, then obediently walked down the stairs. I didn’t throw a tantrum as I used to, nor did I question him with tear-filled eyes. I simply walked calmly to stand before them. Ethan frowned slightly, seemingly displeased by my overly quiet demeanor. Chloe, however, warmly approached me, linking her arm through mine, her smile utterly innocent. “Stella, you study jewelry design, right? Ethan says you’re very talented.” I subtly pulled my arm away. “I’m just a junior designer. I wouldn’t call myself talented.” Chloe, unwilling to let go, turned to Ethan, pouting playfully. “Ethan, why don’t we let Stella design our engagement rings? It would be her best blessing for us!”

Stella POV The air in the living room seemed to freeze for a moment. My fingers curled slightly, my nails digging into my palm. Ask the woman who loves him deeply to design his engagement ring for another woman? This wasn’t Chloe asking for a blessing; she was clearly trying to rub salt into my wound. “Ms. Foster, I’m quite junior; I’m afraid I can’t handle such an important design.” My voice was dry, and I flatly refused. Chloe bit her lip, looking wronged, her eyes instantly reddening. “Stella, are you still mad at me? I know you used to like Ethan, but we’re about to get engaged. Won’t you even give me this small blessing?” At her words, the relatives around us immediately looked at me with disdain. An adopted daughter coveting her benefactor. It was scandalous, a dirty secret best kept hidden. Ethan’s face darkened completely. He stared at me coldly, his eyes conveying a clear warning and pressure. “Stella, since Chloe wants it, you draw it. The Lynwood family took you in for ten years, this is your responsibility.” Responsibility. That word felt like a mountain, pressing heavily on my spine. I looked at Ethan’s emotionless eyes and suddenly, I smiled. “Fine. I’ll draw it.” The next morning, I took my measuring tape and notebook and knocked on the guest room door. Chloe was sitting at the vanity, trying on jewelry. When she saw me enter, a smug smile played on her lips. “Stella, thank you for your trouble.” Chloe extended her right hand, slender and delicate. I walked over expressionlessly and wrapped the measuring tape around her ring finger. “You don’t have to torment yourself like this, you know.” Chloe lowered her voice, speaking just loud enough for only the two of us to hear. “Watching the man you love marry someone else, your heart must be bleeding, right? Stella, what do you have to compete with me? Ethan said you’re nothing but a nuisance he picked up on a whim.” My hand paused, but I said nothing, just silently noted the measurements. Seeing my lack of response, a malicious glint flashed in Chloe’s eyes. She picked up a freshly brewed cup of scorching hot tea from the table and, feigning a slip of the hand, hurled it directly at my right hand, the one I used for drawing. “Ah!” The scalding tea instantly drenched my hand, and I gasped in pain, my hand swelling red before my eyes. Just then, the bedroom door burst open, and Ethan strode in. Chloe immediately cried out, throwing herself into Ethan’s arms, looking utterly pathetic. “Ethan, I didn’t mean to! I just wanted to offer Stella some tea, and she suddenly dodged, and the tea spilled…” Ethan didn’t even glance at my scalded hand. He shielded Chloe behind him and snapped, “Stella, are you done making a scene?! Chloe was being kind, offering you tea. How did you respond to her?” I trembled with pain, biting down hard on my teeth. Looking at the man who was protecting someone else, I lost even the desire to explain. I turned and left without a word, heading straight for the glass conservatory in the backyard. That was my private studio, built specifically for me by Ethan, my only safe haven. But when I pushed open the conservatory door, I froze. My easels, plaster molds, and design sketches were being roughly packed and thrown into a trash can by several housekeepers.

Stella POV “What are you doing?!” I rushed in, snatching a stack of manuscripts from a housekeeper’s hands. Those were design drawings I’d painstakingly worked on through countless sleepless nights. The housekeeper looked distressed. “Ms. Stella, these are Mr. Lynwood’s orders. He said Ms. Foster likes flowers and wants this conservatory cleared out for her flower arranging studio.” All the blood in my body seemed to drain away at that moment. Clutching my manuscripts, I stood frozen, watching as the tools that held countless dreams and memories were discarded one by one. “What’s wrong? You’re reluctant to part with these things?” Ethan’s cold voice came from behind me. I turned around, my eyes red-rimmed, looking at him. “Ethan, this was your eighteenth birthday gift to me. You said this place would always be mine.” Ethan stood with his hands in his pockets, his gaze as indifferent as if he were looking at a stranger. “Since it was a gift I gave, I naturally have the right to take it back. Your so-called jewelry designs are nothing but a joke. Chloe needs a quiet place for her flower arranging, and this place is perfect for her.” A joke. Ten years of my passion, my tireless efforts, were, in his eyes, worth less than one of Chloe’s flower arrangements. I took a deep breath, forcing my tears back. “Fine. I’ll clean it out.” I didn’t make a scene, nor did I say another word. Ethan frowned, as if he wanted to say something else, but Chloe was already calling him sweetly from a distance. Ethan turned and left, without a single backward glance at me. That night, I pulled out a large suitcase and began clearing out my belongings. Clothes, books, daily necessities. I actually didn’t own much. Most of it had been bought by Ethan. I neatly arranged all the designer bags and haute couture dresses back in the walk-in closet, not intending to take a single item with me. I took out an accounting ledger and began to calculate my expenses over the past ten years. Tuition, living expenses, medical bills. Every single one, tallied precisely. A total of 8.7 million. I only had a little over 2 million in my bank account. I was still short more than 6 million. From the bottom drawer, I pulled out a velvet box. Inside lay an antique ruby necklace. It was the only relic my mother had left me, and my most cherished possession. To completely sever all ties with Ethan, I had no other choice. The next morning, I contacted an auction house and listed the necklace. Late at night, I lay in bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. The master bedroom was right next door. In the dead of night, the intimate sounds coming from there pierced my eardrums like needles. I pulled the covers over my head, my tears silently soaking the pillow. The next morning, I went downstairs for breakfast, dark circles under my eyes. As soon as I reached the dining room, my steps abruptly halted. By the dining table, Chloe was nestled beside Ethan, playfully leaning on him. And around Chloe’s fair neck was the ruby necklace I had just sold yesterday! “Ethan, I really love this necklace. Thank you.” Chloe touched the ruby at her chest, her smile sweet. Ethan sipped his coffee, his tone indulgent. “As long as you like it.” I stood rooted to the spot, as if plunged into an ice cave. I walked closer, staring intently at the necklace, my voice trembling. “Ethan, why did you buy this necklace?” Ethan looked up at me, his eyes showing no hint of guilt, but rather a touch of mockery. “The auction house manager told me you needed money urgently and rushed the listing for this necklace. Since you didn’t even want your mother’s keepsake, what’s wrong with me buying it and giving it to Chloe?” He knew. He knew it was my mother’s keepsake, he knew how important it was to me, yet he still bought it, then casually gave it to another woman. “Ethan, you’re truly cruel.” I gave a bitter laugh, the light in my eyes completely extinguished. I didn’t argue further. I turned and went back to my room. From this moment on, Ethan Lynwood, the person, was dead in my world. For the next few days, I holed myself up in my room, working day and night. The submission deadline for The Zenith Design Awards was tonight. It was the most prestigious competition in the country, and winning an award meant my position at the Paris headquarters could be directly promoted from assistant designer to independent designer. With my still-healing, scalded right hand, enduring piercing pain, I meticulously carved the final wax model. In the afternoon, I went to the restroom. When I returned, I saw Chloe standing at my desk. “What are you doing?!” My heart tightened, and I quickly walked over. Chloe turned, holding the wax model I had just finished carving. She looked at me, a malicious smile playing on her lips, and then her fingers relaxed. Clink. The fragile wax model dropped to the floor, instantly shattering into several pieces. “Chloe!” I exploded in rage, rushing forward and pushing her away. Chloe stumbled backward, deliberately falling down the few steps at the study door, letting out a pitiful shriek. “Chloe!” Ethan happened to be coming up the stairs. Seeing the scene, his face instantly changed. He rushed over, picked Chloe up, then turned to me, his eyes so fierce they looked like they could devour someone. “Stella, are you insane?!” I pointed at the shattered wax model on the floor, trembling all over. “She’s the one who threw my competition piece first! Ethan, that was my hard work!” “A broken wax model, is it more important than Chloe’s life?!” Ethan roared, stepping forward and shoving me hard. I hit the door frame, a sharp pain shooting through my back. “Since you love throwing fits so much, stay in your room and think about what you’ve done! No one is to let her out without my permission!” Ethan picked up Chloe and strode away. Bang! The door slammed shut, locked from the outside. I lunged at the door, pounding on it frantically. “Ethan! Let me out! Tonight’s the deadline; I have to submit my work! Ethan!” Silence. Dead silence from outside the door. I slumped to the floor, staring at the scattered pieces of the wax model, and closed my eyes in despair.

Stella POV Two days later, the door finally opened. Ethan stood outside, looking down at me, curled up in the corner. My hair was disheveled, my face as pale as paper, my entire being exuding a lifeless, withered aura. “Chloe only suffered a mild concussion; she’s not going to press charges.” Ethan’s voice was cold. “Just stay put from now on, and don’t cause any more trouble.” I slowly raised my head, my empty gaze sweeping over his face. No anger, no resentment, nothing at all. I pushed myself up against the wall, limped to the desk, picked up a pen, and began to draw the shelved engagement ring design. Ethan watched me, then snorted coldly, and turned to leave. My dream was shattered, but I became incredibly clear-headed. Like a soulless machine, I spent three days completing Chloe’s engagement ring design. The design was impeccable, so perfect that no one could find fault with it. A week later, a grand international jewelry exhibition was held in New York. As the company’s assistant designer, I followed my director to set up the exhibition booth. When I reached the central display in the exhibition hall, my steps abruptly halted. Under the spotlight, a jewelry set named “Starlight” was showcased. The fluid lines, the unique setting technique. It was clearly the design from my wax model that Chloe had shattered. And the designer’s name below the display cabinet prominently read: Chloe Foster. My breath hitched. Trembling all over, I pushed through the crowd and immediately saw Ethan and Chloe being interviewed by the media. “Mr. Lynwood, we hear this jewelry set is Ms. Foster’s first piece. What was the inspiration behind it?” a reporter asked. Ethan put an arm around Chloe’s waist, his smile gentle. “Chloe is very talented. This piece is the culmination of a month of her hard work. We hope everyone will support her.” I rushed forward, grabbing Ethan’s arm, my eyes blazing red. “Ethan, how could you give her my design? That’s my work!” The camera flashes instantly erupted. Ethan’s face darkened. He roughly shook off my hand and dragged me into a deserted emergency exit stairwell. “What are you making a scene about now?” Ethan’s tone was extremely impatient. “That ‘Starlight’ set was my competition piece! The original files are still on my computer!” I gritted my teeth, tears finally streaming down my face. “You’d resort to such despicable tactics just to elevate her?” Ethan looked at my tear-streaked face, a complex emotion flashing in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by coldness. “Chloe was injured because of you, and she missed her original art exhibition. Consider this design your compensation to her.” He stated it as a matter of course. “Besides, you’re the adopted daughter of the Lynwood family. What do you need fame for? The Lynwood family will support you for life. As long as you’re obedient, you won’t starve. It’s just a design, why are you making such a fuss?” Just a design. I looked at the man I had loved for ten years, and suddenly, a wave of nausea rolled through my stomach. In his eyes, I was never an independent person, just an object whose dreams could be arbitrarily stripped away, used to please his beloved.

Stella POV “Okay. I understand.” I wiped away my tears, no longer hysterical, and turned to walk out of the emergency exit. I didn’t go back to the company. Instead, I went straight back to the Lynwood family home, took out my ledger, and filled in the auction amount for the ruby necklace. Still short thirty thousand. My flight to Paris was in half a month. I had to raise this money within that time. I wanted to leave Ethan’s life completely, cleanly, and without any lingering ties. Through a friend’s introduction, I started working as a VIP suite attendant at an exclusive, high-end private club called “The Black Orchid Club.” Only the wealthy frequented this place. Selling a few expensive bottles of wine meant commissions and tips that could easily match a normal person’s annual salary. I changed into the club’s prescribed tight uniform, put on heavy makeup, and moved like a tireless machine between the various suites. Being plied with drinks, being verbally harassed. I gritted my teeth and endured it all. As long as I could earn money, as long as I could repay Ethan’s debt. That night, the manager handed me a bottle of Romanée-Conti worth a million. “VIP Room 888. The wealthiest people in the New York circle are in there. Remember to be smart and keep them happy. You’ll be pleased with the tips.” I carried the tray and pushed open the door to VIP Room 888. The suite was dimly lit and smoky. Men and women were embracing, the atmosphere decadent. I kept my head down, walked to the table, and prepared to open the wine. “Well, well, this new attendant is quite pretty.” A drunken male voice slurred, “Lift your head, let me see.” I ignored him, skillfully pulling out the cork with a corkscrew. The man felt disrespected. He suddenly stood up, grabbed my chin, and forced me to look up. “I told you to look up, you… God!” The man’s face cleared, half-sober with shock. He instantly let go. “Stella?!” His exclamation instantly silenced the entire suite. The man seated in the shadows at the head of the table slowly extinguished the cigarette in his hand and leaned forward. In the dim light, Ethan’s face, dark enough to drip water, became visible. Today was his bachelor party. He stared intently at me, dressed in a revealing uniform and heavy makeup, the rage in his eyes almost enough to set the suite ablaze. “Ethan, isn’t this… isn’t this your adopted daughter? How did she end up selling drinks here?” The man who had grabbed me awkwardly tried to smooth things over. Ethan didn’t speak, the air pressure around him terrifyingly low. Another wealthy man, who had always disliked me, sneered. “Since she’s here to sell drinks, she should follow the rules. Get on your knees and fill everyone’s glasses with this bottle. I’ll pay for the wine today, and I’ll give you a generous tip.” The suite was dead silent. Everyone looked at Ethan, waiting for his reaction. Ethan leaned back on the sofa, looking at me coldly. “Why are you looking at me? The guest asked you to pour the wine, can’t you hear him?” My spine stiffened for a moment. I looked at the cold cruelty and contempt in Ethan’s eyes, and suddenly, I felt that ten years of love had been a complete and utter joke. I didn’t resist, didn’t cry, my eyes didn’t even redden. I calmly picked up the million-dollar bottle of red wine, bent my knees, and with a soft thud, knelt directly before the hard marble table. The glass wine glasses clinked softly. I poured the wine into each glass with practiced movements and a blank expression, then held up the first glass with both hands, extending it towards the wealthy man who had insulted me. “Sir, your wine.” The wealthy man froze. I knew he had intended to humiliate me, but he hadn’t expected me to actually kneel. He instinctively looked at Ethan. Ethan’s face had turned incredibly grim. He suddenly stood up and kicked over the table in front of him.

Stella POV Crash! Wine glasses shattered, and expensive red wine spilled everywhere, splashing onto my white uniform shirt like stark bloodstains. “Stella, how can you be so disgusting?!” Ethan grabbed my collar, yanking me roughly off the floor, his eyes bloodshot. “Is the money the Lynwood family gave you not enough? You have to come to this sickening place to degrade yourself?!” I was forced to look up at his furious face, a mocking curve playing on my lips. “Mr. Lynwood, I’m earning money with my own hands. What’s so disgusting about that? If you find me an eyesore, I’ll just leave.” “Earn money? How much do you need?!” Ethan pulled a checkbook from his suit pocket, swiftly wrote a string of numbers, and hurled it at my face. “Is one million enough? Two million? Take the money and get out of here right now!” The flimsy check floated to the floor. I crouched down amidst the shattered glass, picked up the check, and carefully brushed off the dust. “Thank you for the tip, Mr. Lynwood.” I folded the check and slipped it into my uniform pocket, my voice frighteningly calm. Ethan stared at me, then grabbed my wrist and dragged me out of the suite. “Ethan, let go of me!” Ethan ignored me, pulling me out of the club and shoving me into a waiting Maybach on the street. The air pressure inside the car was extremely low. “The day after tomorrow is Chloe’s and my engagement party.” Ethan didn’t look at me, his voice harsh. “You stay home, don’t go anywhere.” I stared at the rapidly passing night scenery outside the window, my fingers clutching that check. The day after tomorrow. My flight takes off tomorrow night. “Ethan,” I said suddenly, my voice so soft it felt like a gust of wind could scatter it. “Tomorrow is my twenty-second birthday.” Ethan’s hands, gripping the steering wheel, paused. “Could you… have dinner with me? Just one last time.” I turned my head, looking at his profile, my eyes filled with a desperate finality. “Chloe needs to try on her wedding dress tomorrow; I don’t have time.” He sneered. “Stella, don’t try to play games with your birthday, trying to bait me. I’m not falling for it.” I retracted my gaze and looked out the window again. “Okay.” On my twenty-second birthday, an unusually heavy rain poured over New York. The Lynwood mansion was empty, the housekeepers given the day off. I sat alone on my bedroom carpet, stuffing the last of my clothes into my suitcase. I really didn’t have much; a twenty-four-inch suitcase wasn’t even full. I had cleaned the room spotlessly, leaving all the things Ethan had bought for me, jewelry, accessories, designer clothes, neatly in their original places. I walked to my desk and placed a bank card under a delicate velvet jewelry box. On the card was all the money the Lynwood family had spent on me over the past ten years, principal and interest, every single cent. Inside the jewelry box were the engagement rings for Ethan and Chloe that I had painstakingly made through the night. I picked up a pen and wrote the last sentence on a sticky note. “I owe you nothing now. Ethan, I wish you a happy marriage and eternal happiness.” No lingering attachment. No resentment. Just a peaceful farewell. At eight in the evening, the rain showed no signs of letting up. Dragging my suitcase and holding a black umbrella, I walked out of the Lynwood family’s grand gate. I didn’t look back at the cage that had trapped me for ten years. I hailed a taxi and headed straight for the airport. Once in the car, I took the SIM card from my phone and, through the narrow gap in the window, tossed it into the pouring rain.

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Before the divorce, I wrote fairy tales. After the divorce, I exiled myself to Detroit and became a bestselling horror novelist. My readers asked why my style changed so drastically. I told them, “Before you die, you have to get a little wild.” The basement of this villa was my forbidden zone. Until the agent brought in a new tenant, Ethan Hayes, my ex-husband, whom I hadn’t seen in four years. He still had that cop’s sharp gaze, steady and stern, but beside him was a five-year-old boy whose eyes were exactly like his. We had only been divorced for four years. He handed me a handkerchief to wipe my coffee-scalded hand. “Elara Vance, there is no need to hold onto the past.” I clutched the handkerchief, remembering that rainy night four years ago, when he pushed the divorce papers toward me and said, “I betrayed you.” Now I finally saw the proof of that “betrayal.” Before turning to go back to the basement, I tossed out a line. “I just don’t want to get too involved with a married man.” As I brushed past him, he suddenly grabbed my wrist. A small packet of white powder fell from my pocket. He picked it up, his eyes instantly turning sharp. “What is this?” I snatched the powder back, looking up at him. “None of your business.” “Elara Vance, don’t tell me you have fallen that low.” He pinned me against the wall, bloodshot eyes staring into mine. I pushed him away with all my strength. “On the day we divorced, you said my affairs would no longer concern you.” Closing the door, I collapsed onto the table, trembling with pain. That packet of powder was morphine. The doctor said the blood vessel in my brain was pressing on a nerve, making surgery impossible. I could die at any moment.

Elara Vance POV Before the divorce, I was an unknown fairy tale author. After the divorce, I exiled myself to Detroit, one of America’s grittier cities, and became a bestselling horror novelist. All my readers thought I had been traumatized by the divorce, which was why my writing style had transformed into something with a violent aesthetic. Responding to the buzz on the forums, I quoted a line from one of my characters. “Before you die, you have to get a little wild.” … In the basement, lit only by a desk lamp, the glow from the computer screen reflected on my pale face. I lit a cigarette, my red nails making my hands look even paler. “Nightbloom: Alright, usual rules. Ten lucky readers picked yesterday can ask anything.” My message instantly made the fan group explode. “Piggle_Rider: I’m first. Will the heroine in the next chapter escape the loop? My heart can’t take it.” I blew out a smoke ring, typing with one hand. “Nightbloom: Depends on my mood.” As the message went out, questions about my current serialized suspense horror novel scrolled non-stop. “RiverFlows: Actually, I wanted to ask, why did you get divorced back then? I heard you and your ex-husband had a great relationship.” At this question, the lively chat went silent, as if everyone was waiting for my answer. My tongue lightly traced my teeth as I carefully formulated a reply. “Nightbloom: Our relationship broke down.” From that question on, the next few people became curious about my private life. “November_Moon: How long did you and your ex-husband know each other before you started dating?” “Nightbloom: He lived upstairs from me. We’ve known each other since childhood.” “TinyGrain: What’s your ex-husband like, and what does he do? If I became your ideal lover, would there be a way to trick you into giving me your unpublished works?!” Seeing these intrusive questions, I frowned, tapping my fingers lightly on the table, my interest fading. Suddenly, my phone rang. I flicked the ash off my cigarette and answered. “Ms. Vance, this is Mr. White, your agent. The tenant for the viewing is here. We’ll be there soon.” “Got it.” I hung up, gave a perfunctory answer to the remaining questions, then shut down my computer. I stubbed out the cigarette and went upstairs. Pushing open the basement door, the dazzling sunlight made me instinctively squint. The two-story, sun-drenched villa was a stark contrast to the gloomy basement. December in Detroit was especially cold. The ruined streets were covered in snow, burying sin and decay beneath. After opening the front door, I started making myself coffee. Amidst the hum of the coffee machine, a black car pulled up outside the villa. A moment later, two men walked in. “Sir, this is the house you wanted to see. The owner is also here.” Hearing Mr. White’s voice, I turned around. When my gaze landed on the man beside Mr. White, my pupils constricted. How could it be Ethan Hayes? My ex-husband of four years. He wore a black overcoat, his figure still tall and lean, but his handsome face no longer held the youthful confidence and tenderness I remembered. It was replaced instead by a somber maturity. A burning sensation on the back of my hand almost made me drop the mug. I frowned, setting down the full coffee cup. As I reached for a napkin, Ethan handed me a handkerchief. “Are you alright?” His voice was still that cool, alluring tone that could captivate any woman. I hesitated, then took it. “Thanks.” Mr. White noticed our familiarity. “Excuse me, you two know each other?” I looked at the man’s impassive eyes, my throat feeling a little dry. “Old friend.” Ethan’s gaze deepened. He turned to Mr. White and said, “No need to look any further. This is it.” My expression remained neutral. I knew Ethan was stubborn. He wouldn’t easily change his mind once he’d decided something, so I only stated one condition. “I only have one rule: the basement is my private space. You can’t go there.” Ethan nodded readily. “Alright.” Mr. White was surprised by how smoothly the deal went, but also happy to have closed a sale. “I’ll go get the lease agreement.” In the spacious living room, it was so quiet you could hear the wind outside. Ethan looked at me, calmly sipping my coffee, his eyes deepening. I had my long hair loosely tied up with a pencil, a black dress clinging to me, my amber eyes shadowed with a somber, gloomy aura. He asked, “What are you doing here?” I also asked, “What are *you* doing here?” Our simultaneous questions created an awkward silence. I pursed my lips. “The chaos and violence here… it suits my writing.” As I spoke, a hint of teasing entered my voice. “What about you? Don’t tell me you, a cop, came here to catch a fugitive.” Ethan’s expression shifted slightly. Just as he was about to reply, a five-year-old boy ran in. The boy hugged his leg, his round, bright eyes full of excitement. “Dad, is this where we’re going to live now?”

Elara Vance POV I felt like no plot twist I’d ever conceived for a novel could be as heart-stopping as this moment. The little boy in front of me had eyes exactly like Ethan’s, making it impossible for me to even pretend otherwise. Ethan looked at the boy, his gaze softening. “Yes.” “Then who is this pretty lady?” He hesitated for a moment before answering the child’s question. “This is Ms. Vance.” “Hello, Ms. Vance!” Hearing the boy’s clear, chirpy voice, I could only manage a strained smile. Ethan ruffled the boy’s hair, calmly explaining, “His name is Leo. He just turned five. He’s not very well, so I brought him here for treatment.” Just as he finished speaking, Mr. White came in with the contract. “If everything looks good, you can sign. For now, it’s a short-term lease for one month. If you have any issues later, feel free to call me.” After the contract was signed, Mr. White left, and Leo eagerly went to explore upstairs. The aroma of coffee filled the air, but the atmosphere in the living room was heavy. Finally, I broke the silence. “We’ve only been divorced for four years, but your child is five.” My tone was tinged with bitterness, sounding like an accusation, or perhaps a lament for myself. Ethan’s throat worked. “I told you when we divorced, I betrayed you.” Just like before, his answer was direct and unreserved. My hand, holding the coffee cup, trembled. Emotions that had lain dormant for years surged forth again. I thought I had moved on, but unexpectedly, my heart still ached with the same numbness as it had four years ago. I took a deep breath, turning my head so he wouldn’t see my eyes welling up. “You didn’t just betray me, you betrayed yourself.” With that, I turned and went back to the basement. Closing the door, I sank to the floor, feeling drained. As I closed my eyes, memories flashed through my mind. Warm sunlight, a bright study. I had just finished typing the end of a fairy tale when Ethan, home from work, gently hugged me from behind. “How was today’s story?” “The princess and prince lived happily ever after!” I snuggled contentedly in his arms, my eyes shining as I smiled. “I want our future children to read my fairy tales and grow up in our love.” But opening my eyes again, the endless darkness pulled me back to that night four years ago. Torrential rain, cold, untouched dinner. Ethan sat on the sofa, smoking, while I stared blankly at the divorce papers on the table. He said, “I’m sorry, I betrayed you.” That night, the gentle me turned into a madwoman. No matter how hysterically I pleaded and cried, Ethan remained unmoved. It wasn’t until dawn, my tears dried and my voice hoarse from crying, that I finally signed the ‘wife’s signature’ line. The memories were now rusted, crumbling into fragments with the slightest touch. I swallowed the bitterness in my throat, got up, and sat in front of my computer. I lit a cigarette, put it to my lips, and started typing. But after less than two lines, I felt a headache coming on. I collapsed onto the table, falling into a drowsy sleep. I don’t know how much time passed until I was startled awake by a knock at the door. I checked the time. It was already 7:30 PM. I got up to open the door. It was Ethan. He had changed into a gray turtleneck sweater, sleeves rolled up to reveal the distinct veins on his forearms. An apron tied around his waist made his shoulders seem broader and his waist narrower. “I made dinner. Let’s eat together.” Hearing Ethan, I looked towards the dining room. The table was set with dishes I hadn’t seen in ages, steaming hot. Leo was sitting obediently at the table, eating. My eyes darkened. “I remember you couldn’t cook.” Ethan pursed his lips, his voice a little lower. “Leo’s mom couldn’t cook, so I had to learn.” His words felt like needles pricking my heart. We had grown up together, and even after we married, Ethan had never cooked for me once. But I never felt wronged back then. He was a cop, always swamped with work. It was good enough that he even had time to eat. For a moment, I couldn’t tell if I felt more anger or more sorrow. I forced a bitter smile. “That’s nice. She’s luckier than your ex-wife.” With that, I started to close the door. “Thanks, but I’m used to takeout. Someone will deliver my meal soon.” Just as I finished speaking, the doorbell rang. “Hello, pizza!” I opened the door, took the takeout, paid the tip, and prepared to go back to the basement. But Ethan called out to me. “Elara, you don’t need to hold onto the past.” Listening to his somewhat helpless tone, my palm involuntarily trembled. “I just don’t want to get too involved with a married man.” Ethan was speechless, a flicker of struggle passing through his deep eyes. As I brushed past him, he grabbed my hand. “Wait!” Caught off guard, I stumbled. A packet of white powder fell from my pocket.

Elara Vance POV Time seemed to freeze at that moment. A flicker of panic crossed my eyes. I reached down to pick it up immediately, but Ethan was faster. He held the white powder, his gaze on me filled with a brewing storm. “What is this?” My face was grim. I reached out and snatched it back. “None of your business.” With that, I turned to leave. But the next second, his tall frame pressed against me, pinning me against the wall. “Elara Vance, don’t tell me you’ve fallen that low.” Ethan stared at me, his bloodshot eyes radiating a sharp chill. At such close proximity, I could see my own reflection in his eyes. I looked as disheveled as I had on the day of our divorce four years ago. I pushed Ethan away forcefully. “Don’t forget, on the day we divorced, you said my affairs would no longer concern you.” Throwing out that last sentence, I hurried down to the basement, slamming the door shut. Back in the basement, even the familiar dimness couldn’t alleviate my discomfort. My head throbbed harder and harder, the nerves in my brain twisting like red-hot knives. I sat down at my computer, dumped all the powder into my mouth, then pulled out my phone and dialed a number. After a few rings, a clear male voice answered. “Ms. Vance, what’s wrong?” My face was white as I rubbed my head. “Dr. Derek, my headache is getting worse.” Dr. Derek sighed. “Since you fainted four years ago and came for treatment, I told you the blood vessel was pressing on your brainstem, and surgery isn’t possible.” “I can only prescribe morphine powder for the pain, but given your current condition, you’re likely in life-threatening danger at any moment…” Hearing this, a pang of pain flashed in my eyes. I said “got it” and hung up. I slumped onto the table, letting the sorrow consume me. I wondered if fate just couldn’t bear to see me happy: first, my parents died young, then my marriage shattered, and finally, I was struck with a terminal illness… Thinking about it, I gave a bitter laugh. If life were a novel, my plot truly sucked. Night deepened. As before, I drifted into a heavy sleep, only to be woken by pain. This cycle repeated until dawn. I woke up at 8 AM. The pizza on the table was stone cold. I rubbed my head, and dragging my exhausted body, I washed up and walked out of the basement. Before my eyes could adjust to the light, I smelled the familiar aroma of breakfast. Ethan stood in front of the counter, which barely reached his hip, deftly flipping a fried egg in a pan with one hand. Our eyes met. After a moment of surprise, I remembered Ethan had become my tenant yesterday. I said nothing, making myself coffee as usual. In the morning stillness of the house, we were both busy with our own things. But I noticed many storybooks on the table. Looking closer, they were all fairy tales I had written years ago. “Leo really likes those books. He insisted on bringing them.” Ethan paused, his voice deepening. “He keeps asking me when you’ll write new stories.” I didn’t answer immediately, just stared intently. Each book cover had the publisher’s “NO.1” mark. I had intended these to be gifts for my and Ethan’s future children. But our story wasn’t a fairy tale. The gifts I’d meant for *our* children, he had ultimately given to his child with someone else. I took a sip of the bitter coffee. “I won’t be writing them anymore. Fairy tales are all lies.” Ethan understood my hidden meaning but said nothing more. Suddenly, a loud bang from outside made the window frames rattle. Almost instantly, Ethan pulled me into a corner, shielding me tightly. His heartbeat was close, and his distinct minty scent made me momentarily disoriented. But as I regained my composure, I immediately pushed him away. “This is Detroit. Such disturbances are common.” The alertness in Ethan’s eyes faded, replaced by a questioning look. “Why did you choose to come to this chaotic city?” I couldn’t answer. My throat felt tight. “I just wanted a change of environment.” Ethan pressed, “Then what was that packet of powder that fell out yesterday?” Our eyes met. Seeing him in full interrogation mode, I gave a self-deprecating laugh. I pulled out a cigarette, expertly lighting it. “You know, great works always require some forbidden methods for inspiration.” The wine-scented smoke blurred the distance between us. Ethan frowned, his gaze turning sharp. “If I ever get the chance, I’ll arrest you myself.” After delivering that flat warning, he carried Leo’s breakfast upstairs. Listening to his footsteps fading, I looked at the table full of brightly illustrated fairy tales, my eyes welling up. Don’t worry, Ethan. Neither I, nor the past, can ever go back.

Elara Vance POV Muffled thunder rolled through the dark clouds, and the basement felt cold and damp. I’d been writing for two straight days and finally decided to stop and rest. Rubbing my throbbing head, I walked out, intending to make myself a cup of coffee to wake up, only to find a sticky note on the coffee machine. “I have an urgent errand. Could you please look after Leo for me?” The handwriting was sharp, just like Ethan. Beside the coffee machine was a pre-made sandwich. I frowned, glancing at Leo playing with toys in the living room, and casually tossed the note into the trash. Why did Ethan think I’d look after his child with another woman? After finishing my coffee, I was about to go back for a nap when Leo suddenly ran over, pulling my hand to sit on the sofa. “Ms. Vance, play with me!” The soft, warm touch on my palm made me stiffen. Before I could react, the child added, “Your hands are as pretty as Mom’s.” Hearing him mention that woman I’d never met, I felt uncomfortable, yet couldn’t help but probe into Ethan’s other marriage. “Does your dad… love your mom very much?” Leo nodded, his eyes sparkling. “Dad loves Mom the most!” “I’ll tell you a secret: once, when Mom was sick, I saw Dad cry. He said big boys don’t cry, but he cried even uglier than I do when I get a shot.” “And then…” The child chattered on, and as he spoke, my mind conjured images of Ethan and a gentle, beautiful woman sharing a happy life in what used to be *our* home. It was almost subconscious, but my previously agitated heart found a sliver of comfort. Yet, when I came back to my senses, I felt only sorrow and absurdity. I was so deeply in love with a man that I could overlook his betrayal and still feel comforted by his stable, happy life… Leo soon got tired and fell asleep right on the rug. I looked at his innocent sleeping face, sighed deeply, and covered him with a blanket. Night deepened. It was already 11:30 PM. After sending the draft I’d finished to my publisher’s editor, I dragged my tired body upstairs. The living room was quiet, lit by the dim light of a floor lamp. As I reached the kitchen counter, I felt a nerve in my brain suddenly twitch violently, and I collapsed to the floor. My face went ashen, and I instinctively pounded my throbbing head. But the next second, a pair of strong hands lifted me, and the familiar minty scent brought a moment of clarity. “Are you alright?” His voice seemed to vibrate from his chest, a slight tremor that left me momentarily disoriented. When I regained my senses, I realized Ethan had placed me on the sofa. The faint night light illuminated his deep eyes and the subtle worry within them. But Leo’s words, “Dad loves Mom the most,” echoed in my ears. My heart tightened, and I immediately pulled away. “Thanks…” Facing my distance, Ethan’s gaze darkened. “Do you always have to be so strong?” Hearing that, I smiled bitterly to myself. If I hadn’t been strong, the four years of agonizing illness, the pain of being abandoned and betrayed by my loved one, would have crushed me long ago. But I was too tired to argue, so I changed the subject. “How long will Leo’s treatment take?” Ethan got up and poured me a cup of hot water. “If all goes well, a month.” He paused, then asked, “What about you? How long do you plan to stay here?” I suppressed the stabbing pain in my head. “…I don’t know. Maybe once I finish this novel, I’ll move somewhere else.” Suddenly, both of us fell silent. My fingertips traced the warm rim of the cup, trying to break the stiff atmosphere, when I suddenly heard Ethan say, “Once Leo’s well, I’m going to quit my job.” I looked up in surprise, meeting his steady gaze. We grew up together. I had witnessed all the efforts Ethan made to become a police officer. It wasn’t an exaggeration to say it was his life’s passion. My voice felt dry. “Being a cop was your childhood dream. Why…” “Weren’t you also determined to be a fairy tale author since childhood? Why did you switch to writing horror novels?” Faced with Ethan’s counter-question, I was speechless. He looked at me. “I’ve given a lot for my ideals. The rest of my life, I want to dedicate to the person I love. I want to protect her.” Bitterness climbed into my nose, warming my eyes. I used to worry sick about Ethan, but even when he loved me so deeply, he never gave up his passion. It just meant he’d found a woman who could truly make him give up everything. I lowered my eyes, hiding my bitterness. “You should get some rest. I want to be alone for a while.” Ethan looked like he wanted to say more, but just offered a “Goodnight” and went upstairs. The wind, laden with snowflakes, gently tapped against the French windows. I sat alone for a long time. Suddenly, my phone rang. It was my editor. I took a deep breath and answered. “Does the draft need revisions?” My editor’s voice was excited. “No revisions, no revisions! Elara, I just wanted to ask when you plan to finish it?” I pursed my lips. “A month.” The other end was silent for a moment. “Don’t you still have nearly 700,000 words remaining? Will you make it?” I looked towards the upstairs hallway, my eyes dark. “That’ll be enough.” A month was enough to finish my novel and my past.

Elara Vance POV For me, the days spent furiously writing flew by. Trapped in the basement with only a desk lamp, I couldn’t even tell day from night without checking my phone. It wasn’t until I felt I had no strength left to type that I stumbled to bed for a nap. I had barely closed my eyes when there was a knock at the door. “Ms. Vance, it’s Leo!” I frowned but roused myself to open the door. Ethan stood there, holding Leo’s hand. “Leo has a check-up at the hospital today. He wanted you to come with him.” As soon as Ethan finished, Leo tugged at my dress. “Ms. Vance, will you come with me, please?” Facing their identical eyes, my refusal caught in my throat. But then I remembered how long it had been since I’d gotten my medication from Dr. Derek, so I agreed. The three of us went to the hospital. Leo was very well-behaved. He didn’t cry or fuss, even around the cold medical equipment. Once he went into the examination room, I happened to glance towards a corner and saw Dr. Derek. Dr. Derek’s light gray eyes naturally held a touch of melancholy. He subtly gave me a signal, then turned and walked towards his office. Ethan was very observant. He had noticed our interaction the moment I turned my head. “I have something to do. I’ll be gone for a bit.” I ignored Ethan’s reaction, threw out that line, and left. In the doctor’s office. Dr. Derek looked at me, his eyes filled with sorrow. “I contacted my mentors. They reviewed your scans and all agreed that the risk of surgery is too great.” My expression remained neutral. I had already prepared myself for this. “I understand. You don’t need to feel burdened. I considered going to Switzerland for euthanasia, but I’m too tired to bother.” Hearing my lighthearted tone, Dr. Derek’s eyes showed pity. I knew he admired my free spirit and resilience, yet he couldn’t bear to see such a young life lost to the torment of illness. As I prepared to leave, he gave me a restrained and polite hug. “Ms. Vance, I’ll pray for you.” Feeling his pure kindness, my eyes welled up. “Thank you.” Stepping out of the office, I turned and almost bumped into Ethan, who was standing outside the door. He glanced at Dr. Derek, who was already back at work. “Who is he?” I continued towards the examination room. “A doctor.” “I asked what your relationship is.” Ethan’s brow bone was prominent. His current grim expression made him look rather fierce. I didn’t answer, instead changing the subject. “Is Leo okay?” Ethan’s face darkened, his tone growing a bit stiff. “Two more tests.” Just as he finished speaking, his phone rang. I glimpsed him from the corner of my eye. He answered directly. “You’re still awake?” His expression softened, and his voice became much gentler. “Ethan, it’s dangerous over there. You need to be careful. Is Leo causing you any trouble? Can you manage taking care of him alone?” They were close, and the woman’s gentle voice from the other end of the phone also reached my ears. And Ethan returned her concern with even softer words. “Leo’s doing great now. You need to take care of yourself at home. We’ll be back soon.” I clenched my hands. My mind couldn’t help but recall a night many years ago. We weren’t divorced then. On any stormy night, no matter how busy Ethan was, he would call me. “Elara, don’t be scared. I’ll be home soon.” His gentle, patient words made me fearless. Thinking of this, I couldn’t help but turn to look at the man beside me. Seeing his gentle eyes, I suddenly felt less resentful. Perhaps I was too tired to hate anymore. I was a person with no future. Leaving without any ties felt like peace. Ethan hung up the phone, his gaze sweeping over my deep, contemplative expression. “What’s wrong?” I forced a smile. “…Nothing.” The atmosphere became subtle with our silence. It wasn’t until we returned to the examination room door that Ethan spoke, somewhat abruptly. “I’ve been reading your serialized novel. It’s very good.” He paused, then added, “The heroine’s experiences are very similar to yours.” I gave a dry laugh. The protagonist of this book was based on myself. The only difference was that I didn’t give my character the same incurable illness I had. “Art imitates life, after all.” Ethan turned to look at me, his voice growing husky. “As your tenant, can I know the ending of the novel in advance?” My pupils trembled. Memories rushed through my mind. Happy, sad, touching… finally stopping at the moment four years ago when I stood alone on the chaotic streets of Detroit. “It should be… the heroine taking her own life.”

Elara Vance POV Screech. A nurse pushing a medical cart down the hallway masked my faint voice. At the same time, the examination room door opened. The doctor removed his mask. “The child needs to be hospitalized. Please, parents, follow me to the office to discuss the treatment plan.” Ethan glanced at me, a look of hesitation on his face, but ultimately said nothing and followed the doctor out. I looked at Leo, already asleep on the hospital bed, then turned and left. The cold wind was bleak. I returned home, ate the takeout that had been delivered, and went to sleep. For a long time after that, I locked myself in the basement to write. Several times, nosebleeds dripped onto my keyboard, or my headache was so severe that I had to take several packets of morphine powder to relieve it. Due to the side effects, my complexion worsened, and my sleep became increasingly scarce. My only comfort was the occasional faint sounds of Ethan cooking. I would also go to the hospital to see Leo, but I never stayed for long. Until this day, when my novel was almost finished, I decided to take a break and went to the hospital. The snow in early January was heavy, covering me from head to toe. As soon as I entered the ward, I heard Leo’s cheerful voice. “Ms. Vance, you’re here!” Ethan, who was peeling an apple, looked up, a slight frown on his brow. We hadn’t seen each other in days, and I had lost even more weight. I placed the toy I was holding on the table and gently ruffled Leo’s hair. “I’ll be leaving soon. I’m busy with my manuscript.” Ethan said nothing, just split the apple in half. He gave one half to Leo and offered the other to me. Looking at the apple, I hesitated for a moment before taking it, then handed it to Leo. A flicker of almost imperceptible stiffness crossed Ethan’s face. After playing with Leo for half an hour, I prepared to leave. “The snow’s getting heavy. I’ll drive you back.” Ethan also stood up, grabbing his coat from the sofa. Sensing he had something to say, I didn’t refuse. We walked in the cold wind, the dim streetlights casting two parallel shadows. Ethan spoke in a low voice. “You look so drawn.” My voice was hoarse. “Didn’t sleep well…” As I spoke, my foot caught on a stone, and I stumbled. He quickly steadied me, his voice tight, tinged with helplessness. “Watch your step.” I turned to look at him. In a daze, I felt like I was back in some afternoon years ago. Swaying tree shadows, blue and white school uniforms, and a boy gently blowing on my scraped knee after a fall. “Clumsy. Why do you always trip?” Back then, I would playfully throw myself into his arms, and he would wholeheartedly dote on me… I came back to reality, pulling free from Ethan’s hand. “Thanks.” Ethan looked at me. “Leo’s treatment over the past month has been positive. I’ll be sending him home tomorrow, and his follow-up treatment will continue there.” I froze. Had it really been a month already? I felt like only a few days had passed… I asked, “Not renewing the lease?” “No.” Hearing his low response, I gave a bitter laugh to myself. It was probably for the best that he left. After all, from the day of our divorce, our lives had already diverged. The next day. I pulled an all-nighter. The following morning, after submitting the rest of my manuscript to the editor, I left the basement and went to the living room. Ethan was coming downstairs, carrying a suitcase. I leaned against the counter, quietly sipping coffee, my gaze sweeping over the empty living room. The toys and fairy tales that had been everywhere were gone. The kitchen no longer held the familiar smell of cooking. The house looked as if they had never been here. It wasn’t until he got into the car that Ethan, who had been silent, looked towards me at the door. Something in his deep, night-like eyes seemed on the verge of spilling out. “Take care of yourself. We’re leaving.” Leo, in the back seat, waved sweetly at me. “Bye, Ms. Vance!” I wanted to say goodbye, but my throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton. I could only manage a muffled “Mmm.” Watching the car slowly disappear, a destructive emptiness, like a strange fishing net in the open sea, tangled around me, tightening with every struggle. I gazed into the distance, my slightly red eyes filled with a sense of loss. Four years ago, I had left without a word the day after the divorce, exiling myself to this chaotic city. Occasionally, I would fantasize that Ethan would regret it, that he would search for me like a madman. But it was laughable; he had lived a very happy life these past four years. Was I unwilling to accept it? Of course, but I couldn’t control the part of my heart that still wished him peace and happiness. I closed the door and returned to the basement. I took out the last cigarette from the pack, lit it, and typed a message on my social media. “Final book complete. Thank you for your companionship. This is my last.” After posting, I shut down my computer. I pulled open a drawer and took out a cold, gleaming handgun. Click! A soft sound, a bullet chambered. Suddenly, my phone rang. It was Ethan. After a moment of hesitation, I answered. “Did you leave something behind?” “Can I keep the house? I might renew the lease.” Listening to his deep voice, my eyes dimmed slightly. “I’m sorry, I plan to sell it.” I paused, then added, “I forgot to tell you earlier, have a safe trip. I wish you and your loved one eternal happiness.” Those words came from my heart. Perhaps from the moment I heard from Leo that Ethan had a happy family, I had already let go. Ethan asked, “Where are you going?” My voice was desolate. “Maybe England, maybe Australia… Ethan, in the future, I’ll also have a happy family and adorable children. It won’t be any worse than yours.” This was the beautiful dream I was weaving for myself in my final moments. If there was a next life, I wanted to live it this way. A stable relationship, so perfect that no flaws or mistakes could be found. No illness, and no agony for love. The man on the other end of the phone was silent for a long time before giving a hoarse reply. “Then, I wish you all the best.” “Thank you. Goodbye.” I placed my phone face down on the table, tears silently falling onto the dark muzzle of the gun. A long while later, I looked at the cigarette burned down between my fingers, extinguished it, then took out paper and pen, writing my will little by little.

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Ethan and I were on a road trip when I got thirsty and went to grab some water at a rest stop. When I came back, he had driven off. I called him ten times, and every call went straight to voicemail. An hour later, my best friend Fiona called: “Oh, I’m so sorry, Kylie. Ethan just turned back to pick me up. You’ll have to wait another hour, and we’ll come get you.” I suddenly felt like laughing. Before, I’d ask Ethan to pick me up on his way home from work, but he always found it too much trouble. Even this road trip, I had begged him for a year before he finally agreed. Now, he was willing to spend three hours picking up Fiona. Turns out, he wasn’t lazy; he just didn’t care enough about me. After waiting for nearly two hours, Ethan’s car finally pulled into the rest stop. Fiona got out of the car, carrying her favorite juice, a bright smile on her face. “Kylie, I know you’ve been waiting forever, so I specially bought you juice!” She took one out of the bag, stuck a straw in it, and put it to my lips. I instinctively took a sip, but as soon as I tasted mango, I turned away, coughing. An itch spread through my throat. I leaned against the wall, coughing uncontrollably, tears welling in my eyes. Fiona gasped, then turned to complain. “What’s wrong with you, Ethan? I told you to get juice, why did you buy one with mango? Kylie’s allergic to mango!” Ethan retorted without hesitation. “I didn’t know this juice had mango in it.” “Seriously? Couldn’t you have just asked the store clerk?” I wiped away the tears from my eyes. Silently, I took the water Ethan handed me. Just like countless times before, I heard him say: “If it were Kylie, a bottle of water would be enough. Not like you, always making me remember all these picky details. It’s a hassle.” But no matter how much of a hassle, didn’t he still remember? That thought inexplicably popped into my head. I actually loved juice too, and I used to love bugging Ethan to buy it for me. But he was always lazy. Too lazy to check if the ingredients contained my allergen. I’d just reminded him, and then he’d immediately say he forgot. At that moment, Ethan was glued to his phone, starting a new ranked match, not even looking up. “Water’s fine, isn’t it? Who’d bother to remember something like that?” I’d told him countless times that I was allergic to mango, but he just couldn’t remember. When I looked up again, Fiona was already in the front passenger seat. I met her gaze from outside the car. Fiona slapped her forehead. “Oh, my bad! Kylie, come sit in the front.” “No, thanks.” “No, thanks.” Ethan and I said in unison. Ethan actually looked surprised for once. Right, it wasn’t the first time Fiona had mistakenly sat in the front passenger seat. Every time before, I would have swapped places with her.

But today, there was no need. I glanced at him, then pulled open the back door. Fiona turned around, suddenly saying mysteriously. “Are we totally synced or something? That ski resort you’re going to is exactly where I’ve always wanted to go! I can’t believe, Kylie, you don’t even ski, and you’re planning a trip there.” Ethan looked at me again through the rearview mirror. He casually spoke, hands on the steering wheel. “We were originally going to the beach, but she’s afraid of getting a tan, so I planned the trip to the ski resort instead. Kylie said she wanted to learn how to ski.” Fiona listened intently, then skillfully pulled her hand cream from the glove compartment. “Going to the beach would have been nice too; I love the ocean.” “Okay, can we just keep it down?” Ethan interrupted, turning on the music. That music was Ethan’s alarm. I immediately remembered how, over a year ago, the day after Ethan agreed to the road trip, I had woken up early, excited. After turning off his alarm, I inexplicably found myself opening his SnapChat. Fiona had sent him a few messages complaining about work last night. I casually scrolled through them and then froze. [Ugh, I seriously need a vacation. I wanna go to the beach so bad!] [Ethan, if you guys go to the beach, take me with you, pretty please~] Ethan replied, [Sure thing.] I stared at those messages for ten minutes, my eyes aching before I finally let the screen go dark. When Ethan woke up and hugged me from behind, nuzzling me playfully, I pretended to say casually, “Let’s not go to the beach for our road trip. Didn’t you say I look bad with a tan?” I thought at the time, I didn’t mind Fiona traveling with us. After all, I’d known both of them for over ten years. But why did Ethan choose a travel destination that she liked? Ethan didn’t think for long after hearing that. He kissed me. “Alright, then let’s go skiing. I’ll teach you how.” Thinking about it, I couldn’t help but laugh out loud in the car. Ethan looked back and asked what was wrong. I shook my head and said nothing. I just realized how naive I was over a year ago. Thinking that as long as Ethan changed for me, it would be enough. Even though I didn’t like the beach and wasn’t really interested in skiing. I unlocked my phone and bought a ticket to a different destination. This time, I was going where *I* wanted to go. — We checked into a small town at the base of the ski resort. We had planned to go skiing tomorrow, but I no longer intended to go up the mountain. So I only took my own luggage. All the gear stayed in the trunk. Ethan parked the car, then glanced at the stuff in my hands, surprisingly sharp. “Why didn’t you take your skiing gear?” I casually mumbled a reply. “Forgot.” But I didn’t frantically turn around to get it, like I usually would. After I swiped my card and entered the room, Ethan came in with the luggage. He saw me squatting on the floor, rummaging through my suitcase, and walked over to ask. “Are you mad?” I didn’t turn around. “No.” The next moment, he pulled me up and into his arms. Ethan’s hugs were always warm, accepting of all emotions. When I was little, I just thought of him as my older brother, just a year older. But then, when he chased off my stalker ex-boyfriend and held me, comforting my scared self, I suddenly realized my heart was pounding so fast. Totally different from the slightly calmer beat it had now. Ethan chuckled. “Are you jealous because I brought Fiona along to hang out?” “I just thought of her as your best friend. Otherwise, I wouldn’t even give her a second glance.”

He cupped my face and kissed me a few times. “Fiona said you were petty before, and I didn’t believe her. Guess it’s true.” Ethan laughed again, and that laugh felt like a needle pricking my already aching heart. Then his phone vibrated. He glanced at it and shook his head with a sigh. “Fiona didn’t bring any hand warmers. I’ll go get them for her.” Then he bent down, took a big pack of hand warmers from my suitcase, and went to the room next door. I looked down at the two lonely hand warmers left in my bag and suddenly felt a chill. I remembered another time when I forgot to grab my pajamas for the shower. They were right next to Ethan, but he was too lazy to get up and hand them to me. Now, walking from our suite to Fiona’s room was more than ten steps away. And he hadn’t even thought of refusing. Ethan didn’t come back for two hours. He seemed like he wanted to explain something, but then he saw I was already lying in bed, facing away from him. The next day when I opened my eyes, Ethan was already dressed, helping Fiona, who must have come in at some point, adjust her collar. “Zip up properly, or you’ll get cold.” Fiona stuck out her tongue. Watching this scene, I sat up. “You guys go have fun today. I’m not coming.” I hadn’t planned on going up the mountain today anyway. Seeing their natural interactions, I felt like I would just be in the way. “Kylie, you’re awake? What were you just saying?” Fiona blinked, then playfully slapped Ethan’s arm. “Kylie just called you. Say something!” Ethan smirked. “Do you think she’s like you, needing to be coaxed out of bed?” He turned to me and said. “I was going to let you sleep in a bit, but then I forgot to call you. Hurry up and get ready, we’re leaving soon.” Then he bent down and picked up his things. “Fiona, let’s go first. We’ll wait for Kylie downstairs.” I stood up and looked down from the window. Fiona walked ahead, occasionally looking back and smiling as she said something. Ethan, walking behind her, replied, unlike with me, when we rarely had much to talk about. Ethan and she always had so much in common. I don’t like playing video games, and I’m not into extreme sports. I couldn’t join Ethan in his passions like cave diving, skiing, or skydiving. But in our ten years together, I never thought there was anything wrong with that. People don’t have to be alike to be together. But looking at Ethan’s smiling face now, I knew he was truly happy today – a hundred times happier than spending a boring weekend with me, or drinking one of my poorly mixed cocktails. I opened my chat with Ethan. He had just asked when I was coming down. I wanted to type ‘Let’s break up,’ but my fingers felt incredibly stiff. So I sent voice messages: [You guys go ahead, I’m not coming.] [Ethan, we’re just not right for each other. Let’s break up.] He first replied with ‘Okay.’ Then he sent a voice message: [Okay, well hurry up and catch up. We’ll wait for you up ahead.] Ethan was being lazy again. Of the two voice messages, he only half-read the transcribed text of one, and didn’t even bother to look at the other. He probably thought the second message was just me telling them to wait a bit. He’d always been like this. Always. I put down my phone and remained silent for a long time. The hotel phone rang. I picked it up. “Yes, I booked a driver. To the station.” Because of the significant temperature changes between day and night, I started to feel a bit feverish. While waiting for the driver, my mind began to drift. When I came back to my senses, my phone showed an unknown number of missed calls.

I didn’t clearly see who was calling, so I just tapped to call back. “Kylie, why didn’t you follow?!” The voice from the phone merged with a real-life voice, and I saw Ethan standing right in front of me. His face was dark, and when he saw my suitcase next to me, he immediately roared. “What are you pulling now?!” “Why didn’t you follow? Do you have any idea how worried Fiona was when she couldn’t reach you? She went looking for you and fell down the slope! We still haven’t found her!” I shook my head, checking each missed call. “She didn’t call me—” Ethan slapped my phone out of my hand forcefully, and it fell into the snow. Ethan’s gaze was as cold as ice. “Kylie, aren’t you just throwing a tantrum because I picked up Fiona? Now you’ve put her in danger, and you’re pretending to be innocent?” “I never thought you were the type to be so cruel, to be able to hurt your best friend like this.” My temples were throbbing. I rubbed them, then bent down to pick up my phone. “If that’s what you think, then fine.” I pulled my suitcase, ready to leave, but my wrist was grabbed. “Something happened, and you still want to leave? Come up the mountain with me to find her!” Ethan was stronger than me, and I was running a fever, my limbs heavy with fatigue. I didn’t even have time to put on more clothes before I was dragged up the mountain. A rescue team had already arrived, but the wind was picking up, and visibility was dropping fast. Ethan pulled me along, and all I could hear was our breathing. He frowned and looked back. “How many hand warmers did you put on? Your hand is burning up.” My lips were pale. “None.” The person in front of me scoffed. “Still pretending.” After another hundred feet, the wind and snow grew heavier, and visibility was less than a meter. Suddenly, a crying sound came through the wind. I didn’t even have time to react, my hand was forcefully shaken off. “Fiona, it’s me!” The snow was deep but not stable. I stumbled backward, falling and rolling about thirty feet until my back slammed hard against a rock, finally stopping me. Through the blurry snowstorm, I saw Ethan pick Fiona up and carry her on his back. Their outlines merged. The wind was howling, and Fiona yelled into his ear. “Kylie? What about her?!” Ethan looked around, seeing no sign of me. “Forget her! You’re what matters now!” When I woke up, I was in a small hospital in the ski resort town. Fiona, her eyes red-rimmed, was gripping my hand tightly. “You’re finally awake! I was so worried about you!” “It’s all my fault. There was no signal on the mountain, so I couldn’t call you, and then I accidentally slipped and fell down the slope. And Ethan, seriously, why did he even bring you up here?!” I listened quietly until Fiona ran out of things to say. “Kylie, why aren’t you talking? Does your throat hurt?” “Of course, she has nothing to say. Don’t make excuses for her; she was in the wrong first.” Ethan walked in, his face expressionless, carrying a pizza. “I bought your favorite pizza. Kylie, it’s fine if you don’t go up the mountain because of your fever, but why didn’t you tell us earlier?” “You’re an adult. Can’t you be a little more considerate?” I looked at the now cold pizza, without an ounce of strength to explain. Ethan, impatient, picked up a slice and tried to put it in my mouth. I turned my head away. “I don’t like seafood pizza.” “How is that possible? You clearly…” Fiona looked anxious, reaching out to take it. “Stop arguing—ouch!”

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One AM, I was mopping the floor at the convenience store when I bumped into my own mother. She was wearing a cashmere coat worth thousands, holding her two-year-old daughter’s hand, picking out imported milk for her shopping basket. Seeing my name tag, her smile froze. “Give me your account number. I’ll transfer you some money so you and your dad can get something decent to eat.” I pushed her hand away. “No, thanks, Ms. Vance.” She frowned, looking at my twisted knuckles and the old scars on my palm. “Where’s your dad? Is he not taking care of you? At least tell me, I’ll come pick you up.” I stared at her. “He can’t anymore.” “He’s dead. Died three years ago.” She didn’t believe me. She said my dad was a master at playing the victim. But soon after, she barged into my tiny rented apartment and saw Dad’s memorial photo— She shook my shoulders wildly. “Where is he? He can’t be dead!” I shook her off. “The night you spent eight million on a painting for Caleb Blackwood, my dad was biting through his lips in pain on his hospital bed.” “One less splurge from you, and his surgery would’ve been covered.” “And that card.” “The one you said had three hundred thousand in it, when I tried to withdraw it—” “There wasn’t a penny.”

It had been three years since I’d seen my mother, and I found her in a convenience store. One AM. The store was empty. I was bent over, stocking bottled water on the shelves, when the sensor bell chimed at the entrance. A woman holding a little girl, around two years old, walked in. I continued working, not paying attention. It wasn’t until the woman came to the checkout counter with a bottle of water that I looked up. Our eyes met. The expression on her face froze. I was stunned for a moment too, but quickly recovered. “Twelve dollars total.” I scanned the barcode, my voice as flat as a machine’s. She didn’t pay. She stared at my name tag. My name tag read: Autumn Dawson. “Autumn?” Her voice was trembling slightly. “Is it really you?” I didn’t answer her question. “Twelve dollars. How will you pay?” Her gaze moved from my grease-stained uniform to my deformed knuckles, then to my worn-out canvas shoes with peeling soles. “Why are you so thin?” She frowned. “Where’s your dad? If he’s not taking care of you, at least tell me, I’ll come pick you up.” I forced a small smile. “Ms. Vance, either pay for your things or step aside.” She glanced back. There was no one behind her. She sighed. “Give me your account number. I’ll transfer you some money so you and your dad don’t have to suffer.” I looked up at her. “No, thanks.” “Never saw you care so much about Dad and me before.” Her face darkened. “You’re as stubborn as your dad. If you hadn’t stuck with him back then, would you be working the night shift at a convenience store now?” The little girl tugged on her coat. “Mommy, I want milk.” She bent down, picked up the child, and looked at me again. “Tell your dad not to be stubborn. If he’s willing to apologize, I’ll take you in. Your life wouldn’t be worse than it is now.” My fingers tightened on the cash register. “My dad and I don’t need your concern. We’re strangers to you. Talking like this, people might misunderstand.” Her eyes flickered, as if she wanted to say something. But she swallowed it. She put down twelve dollars, turned, and left. After she left, my colleague peeked out from the back. “Who was that just now? She had quite the entourage.” I didn’t look up. “Don’t know her.” Another colleague came over, holding her phone screen in front of me. “I looked her up. Isn’t that Eleanor Vance from Vance Corp.? The CEO who’s always in the news for her charity work?” “Look at this interview. She says her biggest regret in life is her ex-husband and daughter.” I glanced at the screen. “She’s good at faking it.” “But she donates real money to charity, and she even started a children’s foundation named after her daughter!” I stopped what I was doing and looked at them. “She pretended to be poor to her ex-husband, transferred all their savings when they divorced, and dumped all their debts on him.” “Her husband went from being a teacher to a warehouse mover just to pay off the debts she left behind.” “She says her biggest regret is her ex-husband and daughter? But then she physically pushed her own daughter’s hand into broken glass, making it so I could never draw again.” They froze. “You… How do you know all this so clearly?” I flipped my name tag. Autumn Dawson. “Because I’m her daughter.” They immediately fell silent. After my shift, I didn’t go back to the rented apartment. I stopped at a bakery for the smallest cake, then a flower shop for a bouquet. It was a forty-minute walk to the cemetery. The cake and flowers I placed in front of the gravestone. In the photo, Dad wore a white shirt and had a gentle smile. I knelt down in front of him. “Happy birthday, Dad.” “I ran into her today.” “She still thought you were alive.”

The next day, as soon as I walked into work, something felt off. Mr. Henderson, the manager, was behind the counter, wiping sweat, his face pale. Eleanor Vance sat on a lounge chair in the middle of the lobby. An unopened coffee sat in front of her. Her assistant, David, stood behind her, holding a file bag. The manager saw me, his eyes looking like he’d seen a lifeline. “Autumn, Ms. Vance said the milk she bought yesterday was bad, and her daughter got sick.” “You, you come over and explain to Ms. Vance…” I glanced at him. “Explain what? If it’s not past its expiration date, it’s not our problem.” Then I walked towards Eleanor Vance. Her gaze was already fixed on me. “Ms. Vance, what exactly do you want?” She looked up. “The milk yesterday had a quality issue. Lily drank it and threw up all night. Her dad isn’t happy.” I scoffed. “So? Are you here to complain? Or are you looking for an excuse to drag me in front of Caleb Blackwood and make me apologize to him?” Her face changed. I continued. “Isn’t that what you did three years ago? My dad and I were always the ones apologizing first, kneeling first, making amends first.” Her brows furrowed. “My business with your dad is not for a child to judge.” “I’m not a child anymore.” I stared at her. “The year you threw my dad and me out when I was sixteen, that’s when I grew up.” “Threw you out?” Her voice rose. “Your dad dragged you out himself! He knew what he did!” I looked at her, unsure whether to be angry or laugh. “What did he do? What he did was get framed by your precious husband.” “It’s been three years. Did you ever once look into the truth?” She slammed her hand on the armrest of the chair. “Did you learn to lie through your teeth from your dad? When has Caleb ever harmed you? He’s a thousand times better to Lily and me than your dad ever was!” I retorted coldly. “Better? Better enough to stomp on your own daughter’s hand? Better enough to press my dad’s face to the ground where you couldn’t see?” She opened her mouth, but no words came out. I didn’t want to waste any more time with her. “Ms. Vance, I advise you to leave now. You and I have nothing to do with each other anymore.” She finally stood up. “I want to see your dad. Let him explain it himself.” That sentence made my whole body stiffen. Several customers in the store were watching. I stared at her. “See him? You lived in the same house with him for seventeen years, did you ever really know him?” She was too angry to answer for a moment. She threw down a business card and left. Gold embossed: Eleanor Vance. My colleague came over. “Autumn… Are you okay?” I tore the business card in half. “Help me get a few more shifts. I’m still three hundred short on rent this month.” She looked at the shredded paper in my hand and didn’t dare to ask anything else. After work that day, I went home and looked at my dad’s photo. “Dad, she’s looking for you.” “She said you know what you did.” I buried my face in my knees. “But you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Three years ago, our family lived in a three-bedroom apartment. Dad was a teacher at a private school. Every day, he’d come home, hum while he cooked in the kitchen. I was in my first year of high school, spending all my free time in the art studio. That year, I won first prize in the art competition. The judges said I had exceptional talent with color and recommended me for early admission to a top art school. Mom didn’t come home often. But when she did, she’d sit on the couch and watch me draw. She’d smile and say my talent was like hers. Those were the happiest days of my life. Until one day, Mom suddenly stormed home, slamming the door. She smashed Dad’s phone on the floor, pointing at him. “Michael Dawson, you’re absolutely shameless!” “Look at these pictures yourself!” On the table was a stack of printed photos. Dad hugging a young woman, picking out jewelry at the mall. Dad’s face went white. “That’s not me, Eleanor, listen to me—” “Shut up!” She slapped him. “Caleb Blackwood investigated for a month! You’ve been with that student for a whole year!” I rushed out of my room. “Mom, let Dad explain—” She didn’t even turn around. “He cheated on me, he cheated on you. I can’t stay in this house for another day.” That night, the lawyer arrived. The agreement was already drawn up. The house was hers, the car was hers, all the savings were hers. Dad got nothing. Dad’s hand kept shaking as he signed. “Eleanor, those pictures are fake… Let me investigate, just give me a week—” “You don’t have a week. Be out by tomorrow.” I knelt, tugging at her skirt. “Mom, please don’t go. Can you just let Dad prove it? I don’t want you two to divorce—” She suddenly shoved me. I flew backward, hitting the back of my head on the corner of the coffee table. I instinctively put out my right hand to brace myself. My palm landed on a glass cup on the table, shattering it. Shards of glass embedded themselves in my palm and between my fingers. Blood gushed out instantly. The pain made my vision go black. Dad rushed over and held me. “Eleanor! Call an ambulance quickly!” Mom glanced at me. A flicker of panic crossed her face. But at that moment, Caleb Blackwood walked in through the door. He saw the blood everywhere and covered his mouth. “Eleanor, what happened… This is so scary…” Mom’s expression changed instantly. She quickly went over, hugging him to comfort him. “It’s okay, it’s nothing to do with you.” She didn’t look at me again. Caleb was an unknown actor back then. He was handsome and spoke in a sweet, soft voice. He said he grew up in an orphanage, with no parents. He said my mom was the best person in the world to him. He said if my mom didn’t take care of him, he wouldn’t want to live. Mom believed it all. She gave him all her tenderness. My right hand underwent three surgeries. The tendon damage was too severe; my fingers couldn’t regain their flexibility. From then on, I couldn’t hold a paintbrush steadily. My early admission to the top art school was revoked.

That winter was the hardest time for my dad and me. Dad was fired from the school. Somehow, those fake photos got to the school administration. The woman in the pictures looked about the same age as his students. Even though it wasn’t the same person, the parents raised a fuss, and the school couldn’t cover it up. I never had proof of who sent the photos, but I had my suspicions. No job, no house, no savings. Dad moved me into a cheap apartment, less than ten square meters. The walls were covered in mold, the windows leaked air, and in winter, it was so cold you could see your breath. Dad worked as a mover in a warehouse during the day and washed dishes at a restaurant at night. Fifteen, sixteen hours a day, he got so thin his cheeks became hollow. My hand was still bandaged. Every day after school, I’d go to the supermarket to help people carry groceries. Two dollars a trip. At first, we could afford bread. Later, we couldn’t even afford to buy much of that. Every meal, Dad would put all the good food in my bowl. He’d say he wasn’t hungry. But I’d hear him get up in the middle of the night to drink cold water several times. One day, I came home from school and smelled meat cooking. I opened the door and saw a table full of dishes on the coffee table. Next to it, a small cake with a crooked candle. “It’s your birthday today,” Dad smiled, stroking my head. “Eat your cake, then do your homework.” I looked at the dishes, then at his increasingly hollow face. “Dad, how much did you eat?” He said he’d eaten. But in the trash can, there was only an empty instant noodle packet. I didn’t eat the cake. I stared at the flame for a long time. Then I cried. Late that night, I saw Dad sitting on the steps outside our rented room. Under the streetlight, he was flipping through his phone gallery. All of them were old photos of Mom. Not a single one deleted. I crouched beside him. “Dad, don’t look anymore.” He turned off his phone and pulled me into a hug. “Autumn, I’m sorry. Your dad isn’t capable.” I buried my face in his chest. “You are capable, you’re the best dad in the world.” A few days later, I scrolled past a news headline. Eleanor Vance and Caleb Blackwood attending a charity gala. She in a white haute couture gown, he in a custom-made suit. Holding hands on the red carpet. The headline read: “Vance Corp. CEO and Her Beloved Find True Love, Long-Term Commitment to Philanthropy.” The comments were full of praise. Saying she was loving and righteous. Saying she started from scratch and found true love. Someone asked her if she’d like to talk about her ex-husband and daughter. She looked at the camera, her eyes slightly red. “That’s my biggest regret in life. If someday they’re willing to come back, my door will always be open for them.” I almost crushed my phone. “Her door will always be open?” I turned to Dad. “Then I’ll go try.” The next morning, I helped Dad to Mom’s new house. A seaside villa, with three luxury cars parked out front. Security guards stopped us at the iron gate. “Who are you looking for? This isn’t a place for you.” Dad, his eyes red, said, “I’m Eleanor Vance’s ex-husband. I need to see her.” The intercom buzzed. Five minutes later, Mom appeared at the door. Silk pajamas, hair disheveled. “Michael Dawson, what are you doing here?” Dad gritted his teeth. “Eleanor, I’m not here to reconcile. Autumn’s hand needs a follow-up, and I’m injured too… Can we borrow some money?”

Before he could finish, Caleb Blackwood peeked out from behind her. Seeing Dad and me, his face instantly changed, and he shrank back behind her. “Eleanor, they’re here again… Are they going to cause a scene…?” Mom turned to comfort him. When she turned back, her face was completely cold. “Michael Dawson, have you no shame? You messed up, and you’re still coming here asking for money? What do you take me for?” I stepped forward. “He didn’t do anything wrong! Those photos are fake! Why wouldn’t you investigate?” Mom glanced at me. “The child doesn’t know any better, your dad corrupted her. Someone, please escort them out.” The security guards came up and pushed us. Dad was pushed down onto the steps. I knelt to help him up. The door closed in front of us. The moment it shut, I heard Caleb Blackwood laughing inside. After that, Dad’s body couldn’t hold up anymore. He hadn’t thought much of the fall at the warehouse at the time. But later, he started having frequent stomach pains, couldn’t eat, and visibly wasted away. I dragged him to a community clinic. The doctor’s expression after reading the report is something I’ll never forget. “Stage two stomach cancer. Immediate surgery is required, or it will progress to stage three.” Surgery plus follow-up treatment, at least three hundred thousand. For us, that was an astronomical sum. I had already dropped out of school by then. Working at a coffee shop during the day, and cleaning at a karaoke bar at night. At most, I earned three thousand a month. Dad didn’t want me to drop out. But we couldn’t afford tuition at all. I said it was okay. My drawing hand was already ruined anyway, so going to school or not made no difference. Three hundred thousand. I tried every method I could think of. We only raised twenty-three thousand on GoFundMe. Relatives had long cut ties. Community aid had a six-month waiting list. Finally, I called Mom’s number again. The first few dozen calls, all busy tones. But online, her news was everywhere. Throwing a birthday party for Caleb, booking out an entire commercial street. Spending eight million at an auction on an oil painting. The painting was of a little girl running in a field. She spent eight million on a painting. But she couldn’t answer my phone call. Later, after dozens of attempts, the call finally connected. “What do you want now?” Her voice was cold. I clutched the phone, my voice trembling uncontrollably. “Mom… Dad has stomach cancer. Stage two. He needs three hundred thousand for surgery, please… He’s really not doing well…” There was silence on the other end for a few seconds. “Are you and your dad putting on another act? Last time it was an injury and asking for money, this time it’s cancer. Next, will it be a will?” I crouched in the hospital corridor, tears falling one by one onto the floor tiles. “I’m not lying… I can have the doctor talk to you…” “Enough. I’ll give you one last chance.” Two days later, David, her assistant, came to the hospital. He handed me a bank card. “Ms. Vance said there’s three hundred thousand in it. Take it, and don’t call again.” I took the card with both hands. Like holding a life in my hands. I ran back to the hospital room, kneeling by Dad’s bed. “Dad, the money’s here. You can get the surgery now.” Dad looked at me, his eyes red. He laboriously raised a hand and stroked my head. “Autumn, your mom gave it to you?” I nodded. He didn’t say anything. He turned his face away, tears flowing into his pillow. I took the card to pay the bill. I waited in line for a long time. Finally, it was my turn. I handed the card into the window. “Transfer three hundred thousand, for surgery.” The staff member swiped it. Then swiped it again. She looked up at me. “Insufficient balance.”

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On the night I decided to divorce, my protégé — a scholarship recipient I’d supported for eight years — was stealing the show at a charity gala, wearing a limited-edition necklace my husband had bought. She sweetly posted on Ins: “He said he has an instinctive attraction to me. Is this what it feels like to be truly adored?” I tapped the ‘like’ button, then casually tossed the divorce papers onto his face. Ethan sneered, “Eleanor, you’re just using that old debt of gratitude to manipulate me. Without me, you won’t last a day in this social circle.” He thought ten years as a stay-at-home wife had turned me into a useless mess. But he had no idea. Like that ungrateful snake, I’d supported three hundred. Now, they were all top professionals in various industries. One word from me, and I could make him lose everything. The lights of the charity gala were dazzling. I stood on the VIP terrace on the second floor, holding a glass of champagne, watching the girl at the center of attention in the grand hall downstairs. Chloe. The scholarship recipient I’d supported for eight years. She was wearing a couture gown, a dazzling sapphire necklace around her neck, smiling innocently for the cameras. That necklace. Ethan Hayes had bid fifty million for it at an auction last month. The news was everywhere, saying Ethan had splashed millions on it to surprise his beloved wife for their tenth wedding anniversary. Now, that surprise was around a twenty-two-year-old girl’s neck. My phone vibrated. Chloe had posted an update. It was a selfie of her wearing the necklace, with the blurry side profile of a man in a suit in the background. “He said he has an instinctive attraction to me. I’ve never been in love before — is instinctive attraction a good thing or a bad thing?” Dozens of comments were already underneath, all teasing her. I stared blankly at the screen, then gently tapped my finger, leaving a comment. “Great. Just like a dog to its own filth — also purely instinctive.” After posting, I drained the champagne from my glass and turned towards the backstage area. Within five minutes, hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor. Ethan pushed open the lounge door, his face ashen. “Eleanor Vance, what the hell are you doing?” He strode over, slamming his phone onto the table. My comment was right there on the screen. “Chloe is still young, just getting started in the industry. Your comment will be screenshotted and used against her. Do you know this could ruin her?” I leaned back on the sofa, coldly looking at the man I’d loved for ten years. “Ruin her? When she was wearing my husband’s necklace and showing off her affection, why wasn’t she afraid of ruining herself?” Ethan frowned, a flicker of impatience in his eyes. “She borrowed that necklace just to wear. Young girls like to look pretty, it’s just vanity. Do you really have to be so petty about it?” “Besides, you sponsored her. It’s normal for her to be attached to us. I’ve been with you for ten years, I treat her like a sister. What’s wrong with taking care of her a bit more?” A sister? His ‘sister’ with an instinctive attraction? I laughed, exasperated, and pulled a pre-prepared document from my bag, tossing it at his chest. “Since you’re so fond of taking care of her, then you can officially take care of her from now on.” The papers scattered on the floor. The cover clearly read: “Divorce Agreement.”

Ethan froze. He looked down at the documents on the floor, then up at me, as if he’d heard the funniest joke in the world. “Divorce?” He pulled at the corner of his mouth, his voice full of certainty and contempt. “Eleanor, there’s a limit to throwing tantrums. You’ve been married to me for ten years, never worked a day. You probably don’t even know how to ride the subway anymore.” “Who are you kidding? Everyone knows you’re nothing without me.” Looking at his arrogant face, my stomach churned. Ten years ago, Ethan was just a poor kid. My father saw his potential and gave him his first startup capital. When his company was struggling the most, I was there, eating instant noodles with him, pulling all-nighters. Later, when the company grew, he said the world outside was too harsh, and told me to stay home and live comfortably, his ‘lady of leisure.’ I believed him. And what did I get in return? His dismissive line: “You’re nothing without me.” “Ethan, I’ve already signed the papers.” I stood up, smoothing my dress. “My lawyer will contact you tomorrow.” With that, I walked out without hesitation. “Eleanor Vance!” He called out sharply from behind me. “If you walk out that door today, don’t even think about coming back! I’d like to see how you’ll survive without me!” I didn’t stop, only leaving him my back. “Just you wait.” Stepping out of the hotel, the night air was cool. I pulled my shawl tighter and called Martin, my driver. “Martin, bring the car to section C in the underground parking.” He stammered on the other end, “Ms. Vance, uh… the car’s having some trouble. I sent it for repairs. Maybe you could call a taxi?” I frowned. The car was perfectly fine this afternoon — how could it suddenly break down? Just then, a black SUV pulled up in front of me. The door slid open, and Chloe poked her head out, smiling innocently. “Eleanor, can’t find a cab this late? Ethan told me to give you a ride home.” I looked at her, then at the familiar figure in the driver’s seat. Martin. My father’s most trusted driver, who had watched me grow up, was now looking down, avoiding my eyes. I understood instantly. “Martin, what is the meaning of this?” I asked coldly. He rubbed his hands, his voice thin, “Ms. Vance, Ms. Miller said… she said she was going that way anyway, and she helped my son get into that private school…” I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. So that’s how it was. Even the people closest to me could be bought by her with such tactics. “No, thanks.” I opened my eyes, my gaze chilling as it swept over Chloe’s triumphant face. “I find it dirty.” With that, I walked to the roadside and hailed a taxi. Through the rearview mirror, I saw Chloe’s smile freeze, and she stomped her foot in frustration.

It was late when I got back to the mansion. I didn’t turn on any lights, going straight upstairs to the walk-in closet to pack. I only took a few changes of clothes and the mementos my parents had left me. The rest — the designer bags, couture gowns, and jewelry Ethan had bought — I didn’t even glance at them. “Well, well, well, trying to run away in the middle of the night?” A sarcastic voice suddenly came from behind me. I turned around to see Chloe leaning against the doorframe, wearing a burgundy silk nightgown, holding a glass of red wine. That nightgown was my mother’s favorite. It was passed down to me. I had cherished it, barely daring to touch it. Now, it was being worn by an ungrateful snake. A surge of pure fury rushed to my head. “Take it off,” I stared at her, saying each word slowly and deliberately. Chloe not only didn’t take it off, but she deliberately puffed out her chest, chuckling smugly. “What’s wrong, Eleanor? Ethan said this dress was just gathering dust, so I could wear it. I think it fits perfectly.” She walked in, high heels clicking, her eyes scanning my suitcase with contempt. “Eleanor, you don’t need to overreact. Ethan said your family only gave him a little money back then, and he’s repaid it all, with interest, over the last ten years.” “He doesn’t love you; he was just repaying a debt. Now that he’s met me, he knows what true love is.” “You’ve hogged him for ten years, shouldn’t you be satisfied?” I looked at her face, twisted by jealousy and triumph, and felt a sudden wave of pity. I walked up to her, and without warning, I raised my hand. Slap! A loud slap landed on her face. Chloe stumbled, the wine glass in her hand falling to the ground and shattering. Red liquid splattered onto the expensive carpet, a stark, alarming stain. “You… you dared to hit me?!” She clutched her face, staring at me in disbelief. “And what if I did?” I looked at her coldly. “This dress is my mother’s heirloom. Who do you think you are to wear it?” “And also, did Ethan not tell you that the startup capital for his company was given by my father? The down payment for this mansion? I paid for it. And the CEO position he now holds? Half the shares are in my name!” “You thought you snagged a trophy husband? Wrong. All you snagged was a dog I raised!” Chloe was stunned by my words, her face turning green then white. Just then, the front door was violently pushed open. Ethan stormed in.

“Eleanor Vance! What are you doing!” He immediately shielded Chloe behind him. Seeing the slap mark on her face, his eyes turned vicious. “You actually dared to hit her?” I sneered, “What, you feel bad for her? Then take her and get out of my house.” “Your house?” Ethan looked as if he’d heard the funniest joke. “Eleanor, are you out of your mind? This mansion is registered under my name!” “Is it?” I zipped up my suitcase, straightening up to face him. “Then you’d better check the purchase contract from back then and see who really paid for it.” Ethan’s face changed. When we bought this house, he had no money at all. I secretly used all my personal savings and investments, unbeknownst to my father, to cover the cost. Even though it was registered in his name, the transaction records were all there. “Eleanor, do you really have to make this so ugly?” He gritted his teeth. “Fine, you can leave, but you’re not taking anything from this house! You’ve lived off me all these years; what right do you have to take anything?” I looked down at the suitcase on the floor. It contained only a few old clothes and my parents’ photos. “Don’t worry, I find the trash you bought disgusting.” I pulled my suitcase, walking out without looking back. As I passed them, I paused and looked at Ethan. “Ethan, remember what you said today. Starting tomorrow, everything the Vance family gave you, I’m taking it all back, piece by piece.” Stepping out of the mansion, the night wind on my face, I felt a clarity I hadn’t felt in years. Ten years. I’d spent ten years of my youth to see a man’s true colors. The cost was high, but thankfully, it wasn’t too late. I pulled out my phone and found the hidden list in my contacts. On the list were three hundred names. Over fifteen years, I had used my private account to continuously support scholarship recipients. Many of them had lost touch, many were still toiling at entry-level jobs. But some had already grown into towering figures. I dialed the first number on the list. After two rings, the call was answered. A deep, steady male voice came through. “Eleanor?” “Liam.” I looked at the flashing neon lights in the distance, my voice calm. “I’m getting divorced.” There was a second of silence on the other end, then the sound of a chair being pushed back. “Where are you? I’ll send someone to pick you up immediately.” “No need. I’ll send you my location. Tomorrow morning at ten, bring your people and meet me.” “Got it.” Liam didn’t ask any unnecessary questions, his response quick and concise. After hanging up, I hailed a taxi and went to a five-star hotel in the city center. After a hot shower, I lay on the large bed, staring at the ceiling. Ethan Hayes, you thought I, Eleanor Vance, was a mere clinging vine that could only depend on you. But you didn’t know that for the past ten years, though I didn’t work outside, I planted an entire forest. Now, it’s time for this forest to overshadow you.

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I lost my sight at three and my parents at five. When I was eight, my brother Thomas was claimed by a wealthy family and became the true heir. The spoiled, troublesome fake heir Robert was kicked out. I stood between my two brothers and pushed Thomas. “Thomas, I can’t hold you back anymore. Go live the good life.” Thomas crouched down and pinched my cheek. “Did I say I wasn’t going to take care of you anymore?” Later, the good-for-nothing Robert also became a reliable brother. They became my solid sky, my steady ground, my cane that I tapped forward with every step. They told me, “Chris, do you know why the baby mix-up happened?” “It’s because the world wanted us to come to you and become your two eyes.” I always knew I couldn’t live without Thomas. When I lost my sight at three, my parents abandoned me. Thomas walked for five hours to bring me back. The thin boy’s back carried me steadily. I heard him say firmly, “If you don’t want her, I’ll raise her.” When I was five, my parents died in a car accident. Thomas had just started his freshman year of high school and was one of the top students. At the funeral, people came and went. They said, “Thomas, your sister will hold you back for the rest of your life.” They said you should find a dark night and abandon her. So that night, Thomas woke me up. I didn’t cry or fuss as he picked me up. Thomas carried me for a long time. When he stopped, I felt sunlight warming my face. Thomas said, “Chris, this is sunrise. You can’t see it, but you can feel it.” Thomas pinched my cheek. “The sun rises every day, just like I’ll be by your side every day.” That day, sitting among the crowd watching the sunrise, I heard people humming and singing. Someone handed me a candy. Thomas said, “Chris, this world is beautiful. Don’t be afraid. Grow up bravely.” I nodded, half understanding. Later, Thomas worked part-time while going to school, supporting both of us by himself. When I was seven, I started at a school for the blind. The stylus made dots on the braille paper. The first word I learned was “brother,” the second was “Thomas.” But on my eighth birthday, I waited at the school gates and Thomas never came. Later, I heard my teacher talking to someone nearby, handing me over to an unfamiliar pair of hands. The teacher said, “Chris, you’ll go with him from now on.” I touched his face. “Who are you?” He said, “I’m your brother.” I shook my head. “You’re not my brother. My brother is Thomas.” He was silent for a moment before saying, “My name is Robert. From now on, I’m your brother.” The teacher explained to me that they’d been switched as babies, and this person was my real brother. Thomas was someone else’s child. The teacher put it gently, but someone standing nearby, eager for drama, said: “I saw Thomas get into a luxury car. He’s definitely gone off to live the good life. He’s not going to remember you.” Someone else said, “I know Robert. He’s the school bully. Fighting, skipping class, causing trouble—he does it all.” “The Davis family found out he wasn’t their real child and kicked him out. Now he’s got a blind sister too. Talk about bad luck.” I was scared. I stood there crying. I cried until the crowd gradually dispersed, leaving only the breathing of the person in front of me. I wiped my tears and asked him, “Thomas went to live the good life, didn’t he?” He said yes. I said, “Then I’ll go with you.” Then I added carefully, “I’m very good. I can do a lot of things by myself.” He touched my head and picked me up. His arms weren’t as solid as Thomas’s, but they were thin and strong. I said quietly, “Can I call you Robert?” He said yes. After a while I said, “Robert, I’m sorry.” He didn’t speak for a long time. I tentatively touched his face, felt his earring, his eyebrow piercing. I thought he might be a scary person. But I heard him say, “Don’t be afraid. I’ll protect you from now on.”

Robert and I were halfway home when I heard a large group of footsteps. They laughed as they approached. “Robert, weren’t you so arrogant before? Didn’t you walk around like you owned the place?” “Now you’re not the Davis family heir anymore. Let’s see who’s going to worship you now. Brothers, if you’ve got a grudge, now’s the time! Get him!” Robert ran while carrying me. The group chased us fast. I said frantically, “Robert, put me down! Run!” Robert and I were backed into a corner. He still held me tightly. He turned his back, letting those people punch him over and over again. When someone tried to pull me from his arms, he fought back desperately. I was so scared I screamed, “Robert! Robert!” He held me so tightly, no matter how much they kicked and beat him, he wouldn’t let go. Suddenly a gust of wind swept past. Someone kicked them away. “Let them go!” It was Thomas! He stood in front of Robert and me. “I’d like to see who dares to touch them again!” Some in the group still wanted to fight, but their companions pulled them back. “This is the real Davis family heir. Let’s go!” After the crowd scattered, Thomas tried to pick me up. Robert instinctively didn’t let go. Thomas’s voice was cold. “Let go!” Thomas carried me home. Robert’s footsteps followed behind us the whole way. I touched Thomas’s face. His brows were tightly furrowed. He must have been very angry. I’d grown up in his arms since childhood. I rarely even got bumps or bruises. I said quietly, “I’m fine. Why did you come back?” He didn’t answer me. He walked faster and faster until we reached our door and he opened it. When the door was about to close, Robert grabbed it. I heard Robert say, “She’s my sister.” Thomas sneered. “You can’t even take care of yourself. Let go!” I didn’t hear any more of their conversation. They must have been facing off in silence. I broke the silence and asked again, “Thomas, why did you come back?” I felt Thomas’s gaze. He must have looked at me. He said, “This is my home.” I shook my head. “No, Thomas’s real home is somewhere very wealthy. I want you to go live the good life.” I’d been holding Thomas back since I was little. When my parents were alive, he only had to worry about my daily care. After they were gone, the burden of life plus me weighed on him until he could barely breathe. He studied during the day and worked part-time until late at night, often so exhausted he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. He had a deep scar on his back from being hit by something heavy while moving cargo. It took seven stitches. Every time he carried me on his back, I could feel that scar. I cried and said, “Thomas, please go.” He crouched down and gently wiped away my tears. “Chris, now that you have him, you don’t want me anymore?” In the end, Thomas didn’t leave, and Robert came inside. After Thomas wiped my tear-stained face with a towel, he told me to wait in my room. Blind people are always more sensitive to atmosphere and people’s emotions. I was afraid they would fight, so I secretly opened my door a crack to listen to them talk.

Thomas’s voice carried a cold mockery. “Robert, you’ve been causing trouble for me at every turn at school. I haven’t even settled the score with you yet, and now you’re rushing over here?” I nervously picked at my fingers. Robert was silent for a moment. “I’m giving you back your life. You go be the Davis family heir. From now on, you can do whatever you want to me. I’ll take it.” “But she’s my sister. I’ll be the one protecting her from now on.” Thomas raised his voice. “I raised her. How is she suddenly your sister?” Even through the door, I could feel the tense atmosphere between them, neither giving an inch. Robert continued, “Everyone in the Davis family has a businessman’s mindset—profit above all. In their eyes, you coming back here is the same as giving up everything.” Thomas sneered. “Who wants their stuff anyway?” Robert said with certainty, “They demanded you stop caring about Chris. That’s why you came back.” When I heard this, my heart trembled. I pressed so hard that my nail dug into my flesh and drew blood. Robert snorted coldly. “That’s exactly the kind of people they are.” “But you don’t need to feel burdened. You really don’t have any obligation to take care of Chris now. I will.” “What’s all this ‘you will, I will’ business? Did I agree? Stop acting like you’re the heir and ordering people around.” Robert was so blocked by Thomas’s words that he couldn’t say anything. After a while, I heard Thomas say, “You’re not leaving no matter what, are you?” Robert said nothing, making it clear he wasn’t leaving no matter what. Thomas laughed coldly. “I’m only not beating you up because I don’t want to scare Chris.” “If you’re staying, you’d better behave yourself. Don’t provoke me.” Thomas’s tone was unusually harsh. I thought he and the scary Robert might start arguing any second. But Robert didn’t say anything more. He silently backed down. That day, I only half understood what Thomas and Robert said. I touched my eyes in frustration. When you lose your sight, you can never get very precise information. Just then Robert came into the room and called out, “Don’t touch.” I obediently put my hand down and felt my way over. As soon as I got close to him, I smelled a faint scent of blood. I grabbed his hand. “Robert, did you fight with someone again? Are you hurt?” Robert said, “I’m fine.” Whenever someone was hurt and I couldn’t judge the specific situation, I always felt very uneasy. I asked quietly, “Did they go to your workplace to cause trouble again?” All the household expenses depended on Thomas, and we were visibly struggling to make ends meet. After Robert moved in, he also swallowed his pride to find work. But his grades weren’t good enough to tutor, and when he was moving things on the street, those thugs spotted him. After mocking him, they went to his workplace every day to cause trouble. Not only was the money Robert earned not enough to deal with the trouble, but he also came home with injuries every day. I held his hand distressingly. That’s when Thomas came back too. He must have been caught in the rain. Water dripped onto the floor. Thomas said, “It’s fine. Just a light rain. Only got a little wet.” From the sounds, Thomas went into the bathroom, and then Robert followed him in. They spoke in low voices, but a blind person’s ears are unusually sharp. “Are you sick? It’s pouring rain and you couldn’t take a cab home? Aren’t you afraid of catching a cold?” “Saving money. I’m not that delicate.” Thomas paused before continuing, “Look at yourself, covered in injuries big and small. Take care of yourself first.” “Also, if you really can’t earn money, just forget it. Don’t make more trouble for yourself.” They both seemed quiet for a moment. “Why are you still standing there? Get out. I need to shower.” I heard every single word. I sat on the couch, using my fingernail to scratch my palm over and over.

A few days later, when Thomas wanted to take me for an eye checkup, I refused to cooperate. I lay on the bed and wouldn’t get up. “My leg hurts.” Thomas rubbed my calf. “Did you twist it yesterday?” “No, I just don’t want to move.” “You don’t have to move. Thomas will carry you.” I said, “Well, my head hurts too. I want to sleep.” Thomas seemed to laugh. He rubbed my head. “What are you overthinking now?” He picked me up from the bed. “I’ll figure out the money situation. It’s not your problem to worry about.” I felt a bit sad. “I don’t want you both to work so hard.” He pinched my cheek. “When I see Chris, I’m not tired anymore.” In the end, I obediently went with Thomas for the checkup. Before we left, I asked, “Where’s Robert?” Thomas said, “He went out early this morning. Haven’t seen him.” Thomas took me through several alleys. I heard the sounds of a fight. He was about to pick me up and walk faster when I tugged his sleeve. “Thomas, I think I heard Robert’s voice.” At first Thomas walked forward a few steps as if he hadn’t heard, then sighed and stopped. He put me down at the alley entrance. “I’m very close by. Just stand right here and don’t move. If anything happens, call me immediately, okay?” I nodded and listened to Thomas’s footsteps heading deeper into the alley. I pressed my ear against the wall and heard Robert’s voice through the chaotic noise: “I won’t fight back today. I’ll let you beat me up fair and square. But after this, none of you better interfere with my work!” That day’s checkup, Thomas and Robert took me together. I heard Thomas also dragged Robert to the emergency room and got some topical medicine. I touched Robert’s hand distressingly. “Does it hurt?” “Serves him right,” Thomas said while applying medicine to Robert. “Playing the hero.” Robert hissed lightly but ignored Thomas’s sarcasm. He pinched my cheek. “Doesn’t hurt. I’m fine.” Although Thomas’s words were harsh, his attitude toward Robert had clearly softened a lot. The house had two bedrooms. It had always been one for Thomas, one for me, and Robert sleeping on the couch. When bedtime came, I lay in bed. I heard Thomas’s voice from outside. He said to Robert, who couldn’t even stretch out his arms and legs on the small couch, “Come sleep in the room.” I listened to the sounds of doors opening and closing and fell into a deep sleep in the darkness. After that, not only did their relationship improve, but Robert was able to find work too. I secretly asked Robert, “How did you win him over?” “Who won him over?” He didn’t tell me at first. Later, when I annoyed him enough, he said, “I used to cause trouble for him because I once saw him teasing you and I thought he was bullying you.” “So I went to seek justice. Later I found out you were his sister.” “That day when we got into the fight, those people spilled all the stupid things I’d done.” He made me laugh so hard I was giggling. He poked my forehead. “Oh, so you dare laugh at me?” Robert and I were messing around when Thomas finished cooking noodles. I held my fork and ate slowly. I heard Robert ask, “Where’s mine?” “First you have to say, ‘Thank you, Thomas.’” After Thomas spoke, Robert was quiet for a moment, then asked somewhat awkwardly, “Why should I?” “You’re eating food that I made.” Knowing Thomas was deliberately teasing Robert, I laughed on the side. After a while, Robert still hadn’t spoken. Thomas said, “Very principled. Starve then.” “Thank you, Thomas.” The days passed like this. The abandonment and rejection I’d feared never happened. I even gained another brother. They would come to the school for the blind together to pick me up, each holding one of my hands. When we encountered puddles, they’d lift me up together and shout with a laugh, “Jump!” Now Thomas and Robert were in their last semester of senior year. Thomas still made Robert study. After they both got off their part-time jobs, Thomas would go over problems with Robert in the living room while I sat to the side listening to them talk. Thomas tapped Robert’s head with a pen. “Pay attention. Getting into a good college will save us a lot of money!” “Thomas has fallen into the money pit,” Robert turned his head to tell me. “There’s an ad downstairs offering big money for surrogacy. You should tell Thomas to go earn it.” I pushed him with a laugh. “Robert! You’re so bad!” But sometimes they would avoid me when talking. Once I was lying on the couch with my eyes closed, and they thought I was asleep. Robert spoke in a low voice. “The Davis family hasn’t contacted you again?” Thomas’s voice was also very quiet. “They’ve called a few times asking me to come back. Same old story—stop caring about Chris and come back to inherit the family fortune. I said it’s impossible.” Robert’s voice carried a hint of worry. “They’re not going to give up that easily…” After I accidentally overheard this, I didn’t dare show it on my face, but my heart was always anxious. Maybe the more you fear something, the more likely it is to happen. One day, someone knocked on our door. After the door opened, I could feel the air gradually grow heavy.

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The prominent Davis family had struggled for a decade with fertility issues, making their newborn daughter, Lily, an incredibly precious miracle. At Lily’s extravagant birthday party, I, Chloe, the newly hired nanny, was about to witness Lily become the heir to their immense fortune. But just as the nanny, Brenda, carried Lily away to change her diaper. Suddenly, I heard a sobbing baby sound coming from inside the swddle: [Don’t hand me over to this bad nanny! She’s going to swap me with her own daughter!] [Anyone who can save me from this will be my godmother, and I’ll give her five hundred million!] My body stiffened. I stared in horror at the malicious nanny. Just then, from not far away, another wicked baby voice chimed in: “Once my nanny-mom completes the swap, all of the Davis family’s money will be mine!” “Good thing Lily and I look so much alike; no one will notice. But even if they do, they can just blame the new nanny!” Without a second thought, I lunged at Brenda, snatching Lily from her arms.

“You can’t give the baby to Brenda! She’s trying to secretly swap her!” I was desperate to save Lily, my face contorted with urgency. “Brenda brought her daughter too, she’s hiding somewhere, just waiting to swap with Lily.” “Please, you have to believe me. Don’t let her touch the baby!” The Davis family and all the guests froze, their eyes widening in shock. Mr. Davis clenched his fists, his face turning crimson. “Chloe, are you out of your mind? Stop this nonsense and let go of my daughter!” Sarah, Mrs. Davis, looked at me as if I’d gone crazy. “Brenda has been with our family for five years; her integrity is beyond question. How could you make such baseless accusations?” No one believed me. Brenda’s expression remained calm as she refuted my claims. “Chloe, I know I’m more experienced with babies than you, and you’re probably afraid I’ll outshine you.” “But this is between us. We can discuss it privately. Don’t scare little Lily Davis.” As she spoke, she tried to step forward and grab the baby. “She just had a dirty diaper; it needs to be changed quickly, or she’ll be uncomfortable!” Mr. Davis’s eyes hardened. He gestured to his bodyguards, who moved to follow Brenda. Lily, who had been quiet, suddenly burst into tears. [I knew something bad was coming, but I thought I could avoid it. Am I doomed?] [Why doesn’t Dad believe her? Now only Chloe can protect me…] When Lily cried, Sarah’s eyes immediately welled up. “Chloe, you’ve scared my baby! What exactly do you want?!” Brenda was nearing, a sly smirk on her face. I clutched Lily and retreated quickly. “Lily cries whenever Brenda gets close, and calms down when she’s away. That proves Brenda’s intentions aren’t pure, and Lily is scared of her!” “Babies understand everything; they can tell who’s good and who’s bad. Just watch!” Lily cooperated perfectly. When I moved back three feet, Lily quieted down. But the moment I took a step towards Brenda, Lily would wail. Sarah, a keen observer, paused, then frowned. “Brenda, why is my daughter so distressed around you?” “Yet, with Chloe, my daughter doesn’t seem scared at all.” Brenda’s face flickered for just a second. Then, she aggressively turned her accusations back to me. “Chloe must have drugged Lily! All these tricks are just to steal the baby!” “Mr. Davis, you can’t let her go on like this. Lily will suffocate if she keeps crying!” Mr. Davis’s expression grew darker and darker. In a flash, three bodyguards and Brenda had me cornered. My legs were trembling with fear. With nowhere left to go, Grandma Margaret suddenly tapped her cane heavily on the floor and stood up, her voice firm. “Chloe, you say Brenda is trying to swap my granddaughter.” “Then tell me, where is the other baby Brenda brought?”

The moment she spoke, Lily babbled softly. [Grandma’s right. If they find Brenda’s daughter, everything will be clear!] [Go, Chloe! Five hundred million dollars depends on you!] Grandma Margaret was clearly giving me a chance to prove myself. My breath hitched, and I immediately calmed my mind, trying to use the baby talk to pinpoint Brenda’s daughter’s location. But Brenda’s daughter seemed to be deliberately defying me. At this moment, I couldn’t hear her voice at all. Seeing Brenda’s hand reaching out for Lily, I panicked, grabbed Lily, and sprinted towards Grandma Margaret. But I’d only taken two steps when Brenda sped up, catching me and yanking my hair roughly. I stumbled, falling hard to the ground. To protect Lily, I twisted my body mid-fall, making sure my head and back took the brunt of the impact. I saw stars from the impact, but I forced myself to get up, wincing from the pain. I urgently handed Lily back to Grandma Margaret. “Grandma Margaret, from now on, please don’t let Lily out of your sight. Especially don’t let Brenda touch her!” Brenda and I locked eyes. The hatred in her gaze felt like it could tear me apart. Grandma Margaret had still harbored some doubts, but when she saw Lily grin at me and stretch out her tiny hands as if wanting to grasp me, she seemed to vaguely realize something. “When you fell just now, you’d rather hurt yourself than let Lily get injured.” She shot a pointed glance at Brenda. “Some people, however, appear enthusiastic but completely disregard whether Lily might get hurt.” Brenda’s face flushed, and she quickly cried out in protest. “I was just worried about Lily, so I might have been a bit rough. Mr. Davis, you know I’ve been with the family for five years; I would never do anything to harm Lily!” Mr. Davis, still in shock, his veins bulging on his forehead, thundered, “Chloe almost hurt our daughter! I won’t let this go!” I desperately wished Lily could speak, could explain everything and get me out of this mess. But no matter how anxious she was, Lily could only produce blurry, innocent baby sounds that no one but me could understand. Sarah, seeing my distressed expression, softened a little. “Lily seems to really like Chloe. I don’t think she’s a bad person. Since no real harm was done, maybe we can just let it go?” With kind Sarah coming to my defense, Mr. Davis’s face remained tense, but he suppressed his anger. “It’s Lily’s birthday party today, so I’ll let you off this time.” “Now get out of here. If you dare cause any more trouble, I’ll make you regret it!” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Grandma Margaret holding Lily tightly, with Sarah close by. Relieved, I turned to look for Brenda’s daughter. Only by finding the other baby could I completely end Brenda’s scheme! But for some reason, Brenda’s daughter hadn’t made a sound since. I scurried around like a headless chicken, completely clueless. Where had Brenda hidden the fake Lily? There weren’t many places to hide a baby here. Why couldn’t I find the child no matter where I looked? After searching everywhere, inside and out, I still found nothing. I gnashed my teeth in frustration, then had a thought. If I couldn’t find Brenda’s daughter, I’d just stick by Grandma Margaret and keep a close eye on Brenda, making sure she didn’t get another chance. But unexpectedly, just then, I heard Lily’s faint cry for help. [Help me, I’m stuck in a very dark, stuffy place! I’m so scared!] [Chloe, please come save me! I don’t want to die!] My heart sank. I never expected that Brenda would succeed again after I’d only been gone for a few minutes! Without even considering Mr. Davis’s warning, I bravely turned and rushed back into the banquet hall. “Something’s wrong! Lily Davis has been swapped after all!”

The air froze again. Everyone stared at me as if I were insane. The fake Lily in Grandma Margaret’s arms also shivered. [How does this nanny know I’m the fake Lily? Never mind, she has no proof. I’ll just pretend to cry to distract them!] Immediately, heart-wrenching wails echoed through the banquet hall. The fake Lily cried, trembling, as if she were about to faint. Sarah, whose maternal instincts were heightened, immediately panicked. “Chloe, shut up!” “We only left our daughter for a few minutes to use the restroom. How could she possibly be swapped so easily?” To others, it sounded like a desperate baby’s cry, but to my ears, it was a clear, insidious plot. [If I just cry and act pitiful, making the Davis family feel sorry for me, Chloe will be doomed!] Mr. Davis’s gaze was like daggers, making my heart pound. But I couldn’t back down. If Lily was left in that stuffy place for another five minutes, she would be dead. And then Brenda might even blame me, and I wouldn’t be able to explain it even with ten mouths! “Brenda, where have you hidden Lily?!” “Hand her over now, and it’s not too late! If anything happens to her, you’ll spend the rest of your life in jail!” Brenda’s face stiffened, a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. I then shouted to Grandma Margaret, “Two babies, there must be something different about them! Grandma Margaret, look closely! I’m sure you can spot the difference!” Grandma Margaret frowned, half-believing, half-doubting, and slowly lifted the child, intending to take a closer look. But the fake Lily started fussing uncontrollably. [I won’t let them look!] [Hope Mom doesn’t give up. Just a few more minutes, and Lily will be dead!] After a few seconds of internal struggle, Brenda hardened her heart, falling to her knees to feign distress. “Chloe, I don’t know what I’ve done to offend you.” “If there’s an issue, we can talk outside. Please stop scaring the Davis family and Lily…” What was supposed to be a lovely birthday party had turned into chaos because of me. Mr. Davis, enraged, threw a wine glass at me. “Chloe, are you done or not? I don’t believe anyone would dare to touch my daughter!” I couldn’t dodge it. With a sharp ringing in my ears, I was hit, my head bleeding. The bodyguards, grim-faced, surrounded me, vowing to teach me a lesson. I stumbled backward, enduring the intense pain, and desperately emphasized to them, “You have to believe me! This isn’t your biological daughter! If you don’t believe me, get a DNA test!” “Lily Davis is hidden in a very dark and stuffy place. The priority is to find her immediately!” “Any later, and her life will be in danger!” In a daze, Lily’s whimpering baby voice grew even weaker. [So stuffy and hot, like there’s fire burning above me. My head feels heavy…] [If no one comes to save me, I’m going to pass out…] I keenly picked up on the details in her baby talk. But if I just ran off now, everyone would think I was fleeing, and no one might follow. To keep the Davis family’s attention, I gritted my teeth. I lunged forward, snatched the fake Lily, and then ran towards the kitchen. “If you want your daughter back, follow me!”

Sarah shrieked, the first to follow me. Mr. Davis reacted, his roar almost piercing my eardrums. “Prioritize my daughter’s safety!” He and the bodyguards, supporting a stumbling Grandma Margaret, followed me through the winding corridors. The fake Lily in my arms let out an even more desperate wail. [Chloe can’t find Lily! She can’t ruin my plan!] Brenda was blocked by a large group of bodyguards and couldn’t keep up with me. Blood was still flowing from my forehead. I exerted all my strength, distinguishing Lily’s increasingly faint baby voice. [Such a choking smell of smoke, I can hardly breathe.] [Am I… destined to die here?] Her choked sobs tightened my heart. Driven by adrenaline, I burst into the hotel kitchen like a woman possessed. Under the terrified gazes of the staff, I held the fake Lily in one arm and frantically yanked open every cabinet. “A place that’s hot and smells of smoke… it must be the kitchen…” “Lily, cry out! Tell me where you are…” But in my ears, apart from the fake Lily’s malicious curses, I could no longer hear Lily’s baby voice. My chest ached with anxiety, and my eyes were stinging. Lily, just hold on a little longer. I’ll save you soon. Mr. Davis, who had caught up, stood a short distance away, his gaze terrifyingly fierce. “If my daughter gets burned by the fire, I’ll make you pay with your life!” My eyes were swollen with desperation, but my voice was trembling yet firm. “She’s not your daughter!” “Your biological daughter is in one of the kitchen cabinets! You have to believe me!” “Please, help me look! She’s about to lose consciousness!” Sarah was already crying hysterically, completely drained. She ran her hands through her disheveled hair, pleading with me. “Chloe, name your price! We can give you anything! Please, just let go of my daughter!” My mind was solely focused on finding Lily. One cabinet door after another was forced open, but inside were only food and various kitchen utensils. Amidst the clatter and bangs, Lily let out one last weak whimper. [I think I hear Chloe’s voice…] [Chloe, save me, I’m right in…] Before Lily could finish, I followed the sound and spun around, looking at a dish cabinet in the deepest part of the kitchen. “Lily’s in there! Go save her!” My chest was heaving, my only thought to rush over there. But behind me, two strong bodyguards lunged at me simultaneously. One snatched the fake Lily and returned her to Mr. Davis. The other clamped down on me, making my bones creak. In desperation, I could only appeal to Sarah again. “Sarah, please, take a good look at this child!” “I’m sure you can tell the difference between her and your own daughter!” Sarah was about to breathe a sigh of relief. Hearing my words, maternal instinct made her subconsciously glance at the fake Lily. She looked at the little red face, her brow furrowing slightly. Brenda, seeing this, eagerly tried to pull Sarah away. “Don’t listen to her crazy talk; she’s a lunatic. It’s too hot in here; Lily will be uncomfortable. Let’s go now.” Sarah saw the child’s red face and eventually let Brenda pull her away. My body felt weak, my mind a blank slate. I couldn’t think of anything else. However, while no one was paying attention, Grandma Margaret, leaning on her cane, walked to the dish cabinet, half-believing, half-doubting. Seeing her raise her hand, full of indecision, I croaked out, clinging to a last, slim hope. “Grandma Margaret, just one look, please, just one look…” “Your Davis family’s precious baby is in there. Whether she lives or dies depends entirely on you…” Mr. Davis could no longer stand my raving. “How dare you curse my daughter? My daughter is perfectly fine!” Brenda, hiding in a corner, sneered. The fake Lily even let out a strangely sinister giggle. [I knew Mr. Davis wouldn’t doubt me.] [Go peacefully, Lily. From today on, the Davis family’s billions are all mine!] Seeing Grandma Margaret’s raised hand fall again, tears and blood blurred my vision, plunging me into utter despair. Lily, I’m so sorry. Not only did I fail to save you, but I’ve also ruined myself. “Lock Chloe in the freezer! I’m going to…” Just as the bodyguards were about to forcibly drag me away, Grandma Margaret squinted and peered into the crack of the cabinet door. The next second, her pupils constricted, and she shrieked in terror. “Don’t go! There’s… there’s really a baby hidden inside!”

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Ethan Vance’s first love was a lunatic. She’d follow us when we ate, and threaten to jump from a building when we dated. Several times I suggested calling the police, but Ethan always urged me to endure it. He’d say Serena Bellwether was young and naive, telling me not to bother with a crazy person. Until the day of our engagement party, Serena snuck in past security. She tore my wedding dress and smashed my champagne tower. Then she pushed me, three months pregnant, down the stairs. This time, Ethan finally exploded. Ignoring all explanations, he sent her directly to a psychiatric hospital. I thought our days of trouble were finally over. But that very night, Serena, who should have been in the hospital, appeared downstairs at my house. Under the cherry blossom trees, their petals flying everywhere. The girl who had abandoned him years ago asked him with tear-filled eyes. “Ethan, you still love me, don’t you?” “Your engagement party played my favorite music.” “Your fiancée wore the wedding dress I designed, and you went to my favorite restaurant for dates.” “Even near your house, my favorite cherry blossoms are planted.” “Ethan, open your eyes and look at me! I refuse to believe you’ve truly moved on!” Ethan hadn’t moved on. He fell silent for only three seconds before lowering his head and kissing her. He kissed her with a desperate, almost savage intensity, as if to vent all his pent-up frustrations. Only after completely releasing the resentment in his heart did he let go, his eyes still red. “Yes, I can’t let go.” “But Serena, what makes you think I, Ethan, a man of my standing, would marry someone who abandoned me like discarded goods?” Serena didn’t answer. She simply rose on her toes and kissed him. Ethan’s body stiffened for a moment. Just when I thought he would push her away, He, his eyes red, pulled her into his car. Under the night sky, the car rocked violently. What the two did was obvious. And I was so disgusted I couldn’t speak. Dating for ten years, I always knew Ethan had a crazy first love. That person was obsessive, willful, and unreasonable. She left him when he was at his lowest, then relentlessly hounded him to come back after he’d rebuilt his life. Every time Serena appeared, Ethan would tell me with an impatient look, “She’s just a lunatic, why bother with her?” But now, he was entangled with that lunatic. My stomach churned violently. I stumbled to the bathroom and threw up until I saw stars. I don’t know how long I was sick before Ethan finally returned. He was straightening his rumpled clothes, creased from Serena’s embrace. Seeing me, he immediately rushed to my side. “What’s wrong, Chloe? Is it a lingering effect from what happened earlier today?” “Don’t be scared, I’ll take you to the hospital right now.” He draped his jacket over me and helped me walk out. But the scent of his cologne, mingling with hers, only made me more nauseous. I roughly pushed Ethan’s hand away, unable to bear his touch. Ethan thought I was still angry about the day’s events. His expression grew impatient. “Chloe, you’ve always been so understanding, haven’t you?” “Why are you still angry with me about what happened today? Serena is just crazy, don’t stoop to her level. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow, okay?” Make it up to me how? By punishing her in the car again? Or by making her his mistress, to humiliate her? I couldn’t bring myself to ask. Ethan stood beside me for a while. Feeling bored, he quietly walked out. Sleep was impossible. I stared blankly at the ceiling.

My mind was filled with images of them kissing. I thought and thought, still feeling a deep sense of injustice. I wanted to confront Ethan and get to the bottom of it. As I reached the study door, Ethan was sitting by the floor-to-ceiling window, lost in thought. His eyes were fixed on the direction Serena had left. In his hand was the ring Serena had given him years ago. I suddenly recalled Serena’s words. I turned and looked around. Pink curtains, juvenile decor, cherry blossoms everywhere. This was supposed to be our marital home, paid for and decorated by me, yet there wasn’t a single thing that suited my taste. It was like how I disliked light music and Western food. Yet Ethan would still, without fail, take me to that high-end Western restaurant. At first, I thought Ethan simply didn’t understand these things. Now, looking back, he wasn’t ignorant. He had simply woven all his love and longing for Serena into the fabric of our shared life. The answer was painfully clear, no need to ask further. I wiped away my tears, a bitter understanding settling in my heart. Just as I was about to turn back, I accidentally knocked over a nearby vase, shattering it. The sharp crash of the vase startled Ethan, making him turn around abruptly. The ring in his hand rolled to my feet. I instinctively bent down to pick it up. The man, who had just been full of melancholy, suddenly rushed over. Roughly, he snatched the ring from my hand. “Why are you touching my things!” The edge of the ring cut a deep gash into my palm. The wound was deep, but I didn’t feel the pain. Perhaps, I had grown accustomed to it. When we first started dating, Ethan had also lost his temper with me over this ring. I thought the ring was ugly. I felt that its cheap, childish craftsmanship didn’t suit his businessman’s demeanor. But he insisted it was his lucky charm, and no one was allowed to touch it. A lucky charm? No, it was plainly a memento of his longing. I glanced at Ethan’s bare finger, a bitter smile touching my lips. “Ethan, where’s our wedding ring?” As if remembering something, Ethan’s angry expression softened a little, and he lowered his voice. “I forgot. Maybe I left it at the engagement party.” He didn’t forget. Serena threw it away. I saw it with my own eyes tonight. He had carefully cherished the ring Serena gave him for ten years. Yet, he casually tossed my wedding ring by the roadside. “Forget it then, it’s not important anyway.” Ethan sighed. Just as I was about to turn away, he suddenly gripped my hand. I thought he had noticed the cut on my hand. The next second, I heard him say casually, “Chloe, let’s just cancel our wedding. We can just sign the papers.” “You’ve seen Serena’s condition.” “She has mental health issues and can’t handle any kind of stress.” It was the same excuse again. The first time, Ethan and I were on a date. Serena followed us to the restaurant and put something in my food. I was sick with severe vomiting and diarrhea for days, almost ending up in the hospital with dehydration. Ethan said she was just young and naive, telling me not to bother with her. The second time, on our anniversary. Serena threatened to commit suicide by jumping off a building if he didn’t return to her. Ethan said she just couldn’t accept us being together. The third, fourth, fifth time… She killed my pet kitten, threw away my competition entry. Every time, Ethan would tell me, “She’s just a lunatic, why bother arguing with a crazy person?” “We just need to be more careful in the future not to provoke her.”

Back then, I didn’t realize the indulgence hidden in his words. Looking back now, he must have been enjoying all of it. Enjoyment led to indulgence. His affection made him willing. My efforts and presence were just a cruel game in their twisted relationship. My heart ached intensely, and I recoiled from Ethan’s touch. The fresh blood from my palm dripped onto the floor with my movements. Ethan finally noticed my injury, and his expression instantly became tense. “How did this happen?” “Honestly, you’re impossible. Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?” I had told him, but no one cared. Once, I was attacked by one of Ethan’s enemies, and the situation was critical. I called him dozens of times, but he never answered. It wasn’t until I was in the hospital that I found out: Serena had deliberately led them to me. She even faked being sick to take Ethan’s phone and block all my messages. Because of that incident, I lost our first child. Ethan felt deeply guilty after learning the truth. But when I truly demanded he punish Serena, His guilt turned into impatience. I should have understood then. The person he truly loved was never me. And those who aren’t loved never get the luxury of being willful. Thankfully, I understood now, and it wasn’t too late. I pulled my hand away and, under Ethan’s gaze, tended to my own wound. Ethan watched me for a long time. His eyes held tenderness, guilt. And a hint of something I couldn’t quite decipher. But I no longer wanted to be entangled with him. Before Ethan could speak again, I turned away first. “It’s nothing serious. Get some sleep.” “Tomorrow, we still have to clean up the mess Serena left behind.” Ethan, feeling guilty and unsure how to comfort me, Hesitated for a long time, then only sighed softly. “Alright, get some rest.” “Since you don’t want to see me, I’ll sleep in the study tonight.” “If you need anything from me, remember to let me know anytime.” No need. From now on, I wouldn’t need him anymore. Back in my room, I cancelled our planned honeymoon trip and called my mom, who was overseas. After listening to my story, Mom sighed deeply. “I told you from the start that Ethan wasn’t reliable, but you wouldn’t believe me.” “Now look, you’ve suffered, haven’t you?” “Forget it, come back when you’ve had enough. Your father and I miss you terribly.” “Don’t be too sad, wounds always heal.” Yes, wounds always heal. Just as my feelings for him would eventually subside. I looked at the plane ticket Mom had sent me. My heart ached, and tears fell uncontrollably. For myself, and for the past ten years. I spent a sleepless night. By the time I woke up, Ethan had already left. On the living room coffee table lay a brand-new diamond ring. He was always like this. Every time Serena caused trouble, he would offer me some form of compensation. Flowers, bags, diamond rings. But he would never send Serena away. If they truly couldn’t let go of each other, then I’d grant them their wish. I packed my things and headed to the hospital alone. Halfway there, a red sports car suddenly swerved and hit me. I couldn’t react in time and was thrown hard to the ground. In an instant, the world spun. Excruciating pain radiated from all over my body, spreading to my very core.

I struggled to lift my head and look. The driver was Serena Bellwether. She emerged from the driver’s seat, her face impassive, and stomped hard on my lower abdomen. “You wretched bitch, using your pregnancy to steal my Ethan!” “Today, I’ll kill this bastard, and Ethan will be mine again!” Large gushes of blood poured from between my legs. The pain made my tears stream down. I wanted to tell her that I didn’t want Ethan anymore. In a few hours, I would leave and never return. I wanted to beg her to call the hospital. My body was too fragile to endure any more hardship. But the intense pain made me unable to speak. Serena’s face grew increasingly twisted. Just as I thought I was about to pass out, Ethan suddenly rushed over and pushed her away. They started arguing. But I couldn’t hear anything anymore. My world blurred into a hazy illusion. Love, Ethan, the child. Along with the scattered cherry blossoms on the ground. Everything vanished without a trace. When I woke up again, I was in the hospital. The baby was gone. Though I had prepared myself for the possibility of losing him, I never imagined it would happen in such a brutal way. Ethan displayed the same remorse as before. He held my hand, offering soft words of comfort. “I never thought Serena would be so impulsive.” “This time, I promise I’ll teach her a lesson.” A lesson? Forget it. Without Ethan’s indulgence, how would Serena dare to go this far? He could never bring himself to truly punish Serena. Just as he never truly cared about me. My heart was already numb from the pain. I closed my eyes, touching my flat abdomen. “This is the second one.” “What?” Ethan had forgotten. This was our second child, lost at Serena’s hands. He always habitually ignored everything related to me. Ignoring the love I had for him, which was slowly withering away. This time, I refused to endure it any longer. Taking a deep breath, I looked up at Ethan. “I’m calling the police.” “I want Serena to face the consequences of her actions!” “That’s impossible!” Ethan quickly pulled his hand away. “You’ll ruin her life if you do that!” “Then who will be responsible for mine?!” The pain in my body spread to my heart. I was trembling all over. “The doctors said my body has been so severely damaged that I might never be able to have children again!” “Who can give back everything I’ve lost?!” Serena couldn’t, and neither could Ethan. He couldn’t even answer the question. He could only, after a long silence, slowly say, “Serena only did this because she loves me too much.” “You’re about to become Mrs. Vance, so don’t stoop to her level over these issues.” I didn’t argue then because of love. I loved him so much that I didn’t want to make things difficult for him. But now, that love was gone. All my devotion and love for Ethan had died under the cherry blossoms that night. I refused to cling to the empty title of Mrs. Vance, trading it for a pitiful scrap of sympathy. After Ethan left, I called the police. At 4 PM, Serena was arrested by the police. At 5 PM, Ethan had her bailed out. At 5:10 PM, Ethan sent me a message. “Why did you call the police? Do you know how much this has hurt Serena?” “She was so traumatized at the police station, crying non-stop. You need to come over and apologize to her immediately!” I didn’t reply. At 5:20 PM, Ethan sent another message. “If you don’t come, I’ll have to comfort her physically.”

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