My dad was insecure, always testing Mom’s love. He’d hypnotize her ninety-nine times, and each time, Mom would fall for him again in a crowd. It didn’t matter if he was a rebellious bad boy, a powerful CEO, or a penniless nobody. But when Mom coughed up blood, Dad just sneered: “Why are you faking weakness? You owe all this to Tiffany. You deserve every bit of this punishment.” He was with the imposter, Tiffany, in our marital bed, having their way with each other. Then, he threw Mom’s earnings as a funeral makeup artist to beggars. But that was her cancer treatment money. Mom learned not to argue or fuss. Dad smiled and kissed Mom. “Congratulations on learning your lesson. You’ve passed my test.” “I’ll give you the most romantic wedding in the world.” Tiffany heard him and went insane with jealousy. She stole the wedding dress to impersonate Mom as the bride, then threw Mom into the red-light district. When Dad found Mom again, I suddenly heard a mechanical voice in Mom’s mind: “System, affection value reset to zero. Villain redemption mission failed. Requesting fake death. Countdown: two days.” Dad didn’t know his hundredth hypnosis had failed, and Mom was truly leaving for good.

When Mom was found in the red-light district, her body was covered in bruises and cuts. Her limbs were broken from violent resistance. She looked like a broken rag doll that couldn’t be mended. She lay in the hospital bed, eyes shut tight, her breath barely there. Tiffany sat beside her, sobbing. “I just wanted to play a trick on Evelyn. I didn’t realize she loved men so much. She wouldn’t leave the red-light district even after she got there.” “More than five hundred men became her repeat customers.” My dad, Liam, seeing Mom’s horrific state, was initially filled with rage. But the moment his eyes met Tiffany’s, all that was left was tenderness and sweetness. “It’s not your fault.” He wrapped an arm around Tiffany, gently stroking her hair. “If anyone’s to blame, it’s Evelyn. She’s a slut, shameless, clinging to men and refusing to let go.” Dad’s eyes were bloodshot. He deliberately used the cruelest words to provoke Mom. But Mom remained unusually silent and still. She didn’t even whine and complain about her wounds hurting like she used to. My eight-year-old brother, Jake, ran in, pinching his nose. He disgustedly punched Mom. “She stinks! Dad, let’s ignore this bad woman. She’s always picking on my Mom Tiffany.” Mom’s body twitched violently in pain, and blood seeped through her bandages. She opened her eyes, looking at the child she had risked her life to bring into the world. Her eyes were hollow and lifeless. Tiffany stroked Jake’s head and smiled, giving him a lollipop. Dad stared at Mom for a long time, as if he finally couldn’t take it anymore. “Who are you putting on a show for, faking death here? Do you think I’ll feel sorry for you?” “I haven’t even called you dirty yet, and you’re already trying to play games with me.” He leaned closer to Mom’s hospital bed, forcing her to look only at him. “I’m telling you, without you, I have plenty of other women.” “Who wouldn’t want to get into my bed, Liam? I only indulged you, which is why I let you hurt Tiffany again and again.” Mom’s eyes suddenly turned terrifying when she heard Tiffany’s name. “If you like her so much, then spend your life with her.” “After all, you already had a wedding.” Dad suddenly smiled. He leaned down and kissed Mom’s lips. “Are you jealous?” “Don’t worry, my wife will always be you.” “The wedding was just an accident.” Tiffany’s eyes turned red with jealousy. She clutched her stomach, looking panicked, and grabbed Dad’s arm. “Liam, my stomach hurts so much. Quick, check if something’s wrong with our baby!” Dad stiffened. He immediately swept Tiffany into his arms and rushed out towards the emergency room. Jake violently kicked Mom’s bed frame several times. “It’s all your fault! Why don’t you just die?” Mom curled up in pain. Jake’s small chest heaved with anger. After yelling at Mom, he ran off to follow Dad, anxiously calling out “Mom Tiffany.” The door slammed shut, and shadows instantly enveloped the hospital room. I crawled out from under the cabinet and rushed to the bedside. “Mom…” I bit my lower lip, trembling as I cried. Mom weakly tried to raise her hand to touch me, but it fell back onto the blanket halfway up. She managed a forced smile. “Chloe, don’t cry. Mom’s fine.” But her body was crisscrossed with swollen, oozing wounds. Blood soaked the white bedsheet beneath her, dripping onto the tiled floor. I frantically covered the bleeding areas, but the trickling blood stained my hands red. “Doctor! Doctor, please come save my mom!” I screamed and cried, stumbling out. As I exited the room, I bumped right into Dad, who was carefully helping Tiffany onto a wheelchair, holding some medicine. I threw myself at Dad’s feet, crying and kneeling. “Dad, please, save Mom. She’s dying.”

A slap sent me crashing into the wall. My head hit hard, and blood streamed from my hair. “You brat! How dare you curse your mother just to get attention here!” Dad’s gaze swept over my small, dirty body, his voice filled with disgust. “Tiffany’s carrying your little brother. As the older sister, you need to be sensible and not upset him.” “You’re nine years old already, running around like a maniac. What kind of behavior is that?” I lay on the ground, my heart pounding with anxiety. The pain in my head made my vision blur. I spoke in desperation: “Mom bled all over the bed. The doctor said she has cancer, and only a few days left to live.” The words had barely left my mouth when a huge force kicked me in the chest, sending me flying through the air. My body hit the ground and rolled several times. The wheelchair rolled over my foot. My ankle instantly swelled up, and it hurt like hell with every movement. Dad’s face was ashen. He looked down at me. “You’re so young, yet you’re already lying, even daring to use a doctor to trick me.” “I think you need a lesson!” Tiffany covered her mouth, chuckling. “Chloe, you’re not even good at lying. Your mom just had a check-up yesterday, and she’s perfectly healthy.” I used all my strength to stagger to my feet. I suddenly spat a mouthful of bloody saliva onto Tiffany. “Pfft! Bitch! You seduced my dad and hurt my mom.” “If you dare to give birth to that little bastard, I swear I’ll kill him.” At that, Dad and Tiffany’s faces changed instantly. Just then, Richard and Carol, my maternal grandparents, arrived. They grabbed my collar and gave me several sharp slaps. “You little beast! Just like your mother, you don’t know what’s good for you.” “Did she teach you to swear like that?” I clenched my teeth, my eyes filled with hatred, and didn’t answer. Carol shook her head, her face full of disgust. “Three years ago, we should have locked you and her up for re-education too.” Tiffany giggled. “Evelyn had a good time in jail; she forgot you, her mother, as soon as she got out.” “It’s a shame I only got a two-year sentence back then. I wish I could’ve kept her in jail longer.” She pouted, feigning regret. Thinking of Evelyn’s miserable state when she was released from prison a year ago, Tiffany wished she could send her back, to take the fall until she died. Only then would her anger be appeased. My heart skipped a beat. So, Mom’s disappearance three years ago was because they had sent her to jail. When she came home, she was raving, crying constantly, not even recognizing me, her own daughter. Dad said Mom had gone for treatment, and I actually believed him. Thinking about this, my eyes turned red, not from crying, but from hatred. Carol put her arm around Tiffany, smiling with doting affection. “Oh, you! Isn’t having someone take the fall for you enough?” Richard stood behind, hands clasped behind his back, and slowly spoke. “Like mother, like daughter. Chloe has been corrupted by Evelyn. We should send her to Tiffany to raise and straighten out her character.” “I think Jake has been raised very well by Tiffany.” Richard approvingly stroked Jake’s head, praising him for being smart and sensible. My blood almost ran cold. I quickly ran into Mom’s room in a panic, hugging her and crying. “Mom, save me! I don’t want to be given to Tiffany as a daughter.” Mom coughed and looked up. Seeing Richard and Carol enter, and Tiffany protected behind them, the light in her eyes instantly died. She spoke coldly, “Chloe is my child. I won’t let anyone take her from me.” Carol swore. “Chloe will learn bad things from you, right from the root.” “We’re doing this for your own good!” Mom clung to me, refusing to let go. “No! I can give her everything else, but not my Chloe!” “I only have two days left. I want to spend them with her…”

Carol struggled to pull us apart, but she couldn’t. She ripped the protective amulet from Mom’s neck, growing exasperated. “You’re so undutiful. I wasted my life giving birth to you!” “Even if you cling to the child, what good will it do? In outsiders’ eyes, Tiffany is Liam’s legitimate wife.” “If you don’t want Chloe to be called a bastard, let go!” Mom looked at the amulet, which her grandmother had obtained for her when she was recognized by her family at age ten. Now, it lay tattered and mud-stained, trampled underfoot. She finally couldn’t hold back, and tears poured like a flood. Dad frowned, walked over, and one by one, pried my hands off Mom’s. “Tiffany is educated and gentle. She’ll take good care of Chloe for you.” There was a flicker of reluctance in his eyes, which instantly turned cold. Rather than being laughed at for having a crazy, absurd, and unpresentable partner, he’d rather give all the children to the elegant and sophisticated Tiffany, acknowledging her as his wife. “Evelyn will understand me.” Dad secretly convinced himself. Mom collapsed onto the bed, suddenly coughing up a large mouthful of blood. Her face was as white as paper. I heard the system voice again: “Fake death accelerating. Eighteen hours remaining.” Dad, Richard, and Carol were startled by Mom’s blood. They gathered around her in shock, urgently calling for a doctor. Only Tiffany wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Evelyn’s getting better at acting. If she doesn’t want the child, she should just say so. Does she really need to use a blood pack?” Dad suddenly understood. He remembered the medical report from a few days ago. It said Evelyn was perfectly healthy. He almost fell for my mom’s trick again. He angrily stood up and roughly shoved Mom onto the bed, ignoring her wrenching coughs. He only thought her acting was too good, and she was always putting on an act. Dad’s face was grim as he warned me and Mom. “This is me telling you, not asking. Unless you haven’t learned your lesson yet!” I was forcibly separated from Mom. I fell to the ground, my skinny wrist twisted unnaturally. But I bit my lip and didn’t let out a whimper of pain. Mom cried out, “If you want to hurt someone, hurt me! Don’t torment my Chloe!” Dad froze for a moment. He reached out, wanting to touch Mom’s face. To wipe away her tears, but Mom avoided his hand. Tiffany clutched her slightly swollen belly and cried out: “It’s all my fault for making Evelyn angry. I’ll leave right now!” She covered her face, sobbing uncontrollably, and rushed out. “Tiffany!” Richard and Carol, leaning on their canes, shuffled after her. Dad’s expression changed dramatically. He picked me up, ignoring my frantic kicks, and dragged me away. The hospital room was instantly empty except for Mom. Just like hundreds of times before. That night, Dad’s migraine flared up again. He’d had this condition since childhood. When it struck, he felt like he wanted to tear open his skull and destroy the world. But ever since he met Mom, she would massage him and give him pain-relieving pills from her ‘system’. Dad had long forgotten the agony of a migraine attack. The long-absent symptoms made his head throb violently, causing him to smash everything in the mansion. Finally, he brought Mom from the hospital and issued a command. “Massage me. If you do it well, I’ll let you see your daughter.” He looked arrogant, as if asking for help was a concession. Mom gave a miserable smile. Her hands and feet were broken; she had no strength to massage him. “I have no more affection points. I can’t exchange them for your pills.”

Dad’s heart pounded for some reason, but he only thought Mom was lying to him. Instead, he roared in a rage, “You can’t use both hands? The medicine’s gone too?” “Excuses! You’re just trying to get back at me.” “Alfred, break her hands. I’ll make her lies come true!” Mom groaned as her hands were broken again. Those were the hands the doctors had spent twelve hours operating on just days before to reattach. Dad was still not appeased. He angrily grabbed Mom’s neck. “I thought you’d learned your lesson, passed my test, and that’s why I saved you. I never expected you to still be so stubborn!” I rushed out from the corner, crashing into Dad like a cannonball. “Don’t you dare bully my mom!” He loosened his grip, staring at me with a dark, slowly spreading smile. But I wasn’t afraid at all, blocking him in front of Mom. Mom coughed constantly from the side. Gasping for breath, she pulled a divorce agreement from her clothes. “I already signed it. You sign it too.” Dad’s eyes were bloodshot. He asked in disbelief, “You want to divorce me?” Mom closed her eyes sadly. “Yes. Your hypnosis isn’t foolproof.” “I never imagined I’d fall for you again and again, only to be played for a fool every single time.” Dad panicked. “Those were just tests. You have to understand that I love you.” But Mom’s head tilted, and she fainted. She was already very weak, and Dad’s outburst had drained all her remaining strength. Dad broke into a cold sweat. He carefully settled Mom. He sat on the couch, eyes wide open, until morning, not knowing how to make amends. In the morning, Mom was awakened by a commotion. She opened her eyes and saw a banner hanging in the center of the mansion that read, “The Shame Feast.” Tiffany led a group of angry people towards them. “Evelyn, you worked as a funeral makeup artist because you liked to molest corpses, didn’t you?” “You must confess your sins to these bereaved families today.” Mom’s eyes widened in shock. She cried out in indignation, “I didn’t!” But Tiffany ordered her bodyguards to force Mom, who couldn’t resist, into a kneeling posture of confession. Countless rotten eggs and garbage were thrown at Mom. Along with unspeakable insults. Mom’s lips trembled. She recognized the people who were shouting the loudest insults. They were the very ones who couldn’t afford funeral beauty fees, whom she had waived the charges for, and who had cried, thanking her for her kindness. Her colleagues always said Mom was foolish, but Mom would sigh: “They’ve lost loved ones and are poor. I can help a little, just by eating a few less meals myself.” She never expected that her momentary act of kindness would lead to this blatant humiliation. “Hit her! Kill this bitch who violated my dead brother!” “I wondered why she was so kind back then. Turns out she’s a necrophiliac pervert.” Mom stumbled forward, spitting out a mouthful of black blood. My eyes were bloodshot. I rushed over and desperately punched them. “Get away! My mom isn’t like that!” Seeing me, they became even more agitated, cursing under their breath. “This is the daughter of a pervert, born to a homewrecker! She deserves to die too!” Countless fists, like steel needles, violently pounded my body. I felt like my internal organs were being crushed, and blood slowly seeped from the corners of my mouth. Tiffany’s smile was deceptively gentle, but her words were laced with venom: “Hit her hard! Keep hitting until Evelyn confesses!” One punch, two punches, three punches… my consciousness began to blur. Mom, like a madwoman, dragged her body towards me. “Don’t hit her! Don’t hit my Chloe!” Her voice was so shrill it changed pitch: “I confess! It was me! Chloe isn’t a homewrecker’s child, it has nothing to do with her!” Tiffany threw a marriage certificate, bearing a steel seal, in front of Mom. Tiffany and Dad’s names were clearly printed on it. Her smile was twisted and wide. “You’re the homewrecker! Chloe having a mother like you is her shame!” “She deserves to be beaten!” Mom’s eyes went from bewildered to utter despair. She could no longer hold back her tears. I vaguely heard Mom’s cries and struggled to crawl towards her. “Mom, don’t cry! Chloe will get revenge for you!” But the next second, a powerful pair of hands lifted me high. “Read this confession, or I’ll throw her down from here!” I was suspended in mid-air outside the third-floor railing. Mom’s pupils constricted. She collapsed, hitting her head against the ground repeatedly. “I’ll read it! Please don’t throw her…” Blood trickled down her forehead. Dad coldly turned on a video recorder and pointed it at Mom. Mom, surrounded by the angry crowd, dragged her powerless hands and feet to read the confession. “I am guilty… I will forever remain in the Vance family to atone for my sins… Confessed by: Evelyn Vance.” Dad finally smiled, his smile distorted. He stepped forward and embraced Mom. “This way, you can never leave me.” Before he could finish, black blood suddenly gushed from Mom’s eyes, nose, and mouth. Even Dad became a horrifying figure, covered in blood. I heard the cold system voice again: “Countdown ended. Fake death successful.” “Mom!” I scrambled and crawled towards her. She was still warm to the touch, but she had no breath left. Dad felt dizzy. He fell heavily into the pool of blood.

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The ashes of my little brother Evan were dug up and devoured by the Teddy that Garrett—the scholarship student my mom had been sponsoring for five years—brought to our house. My dad clutched the empty urn, sobbing so hard his whole body shook. He nearly passed out. Through his tears, he gripped my hand and asked me: “Aria, would you be willing to go somewhere far away with Dad?” My mom rolled her eyes while holding Garrett, then laughed coldly. “What nonsense are you spouting now? You’ve been sitting at home for ten years with no job and no money. Without me, how would you survive?” She patted Garrett’s back, her tone dismissive. “Don’t worry, Garrett. Don’t feel guilty. It’s just a box of ashes. Worst case, I’ll buy him a new urn.” Garrett leaned against my mom and pouted. “Exactly. You’re being so petty, sir. The dog doesn’t know any better. Is it really that big a deal?” That evening, Garrett ordered my dad around like a servant. “Go wash my dog’s paws. They got dirty from stepping in those ashes today.” My dad said nothing. He fed the dog that had eaten the ashes some medicine. That night, my mom went crazy and broke down my dad’s bedroom door, pointing at his nose and cursing. “Did you poison it? How can your heart be so vicious? Evan is dead and gone, but that dog was Garrett’s everything!” “It’s just a box of ashes! Are you going to hold a grudge forever? Are you even a man?!” My dad didn’t respond. He just turned and closed the door. I pressed my ear to the door and heard him speaking into his phone: “Within three days, destroy Victoria Lane’s company. Leave her and that ungrateful scholarship student with nothing.” I suddenly remembered that ten years ago, when my mom was just a low-level employee making three thousand a month, my dad was already a top expert in the industry. He’d been in retirement for ten years—not because he was incapable, but because he wanted to give us a family. Now that the family was gone, he was going to take back everything that belonged to him and make everyone who killed his son pay in blood. **1** That evening, Mom came to the room with some medicine. Dad was lying on his side with his back to her. I knew Dad wasn’t asleep, but he squeezed my hand, signaling me to stay quiet. Mom put the medicine on the nightstand, her voice low. “Dominic, I’m sorry…” Dad never turned over. I peeked at him with one eye—he wasn’t crying. In the past, when Mom did this, Dad would stay silent for a long time. Mom sighed, sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, then got up and left. But I knew Dad would never forgive her now. Earlier, that man on the phone had asked Dad if he was really sure, and Dad had only said: “You should have the patent transfer contract ready.” Mom didn’t know Dad was leaving. I didn’t understand why Mom liked Garrett. Garrett was a scholarship student Dad had sponsored. Dad had brought him out of the mountains. Dad told me: “Garrett is very pitiful. If Dad didn’t help him, he would have been sold.” I didn’t understand what “sold” meant, but I knew Dad must have really cared about him. At first, Mom really hated Garrett and fought with Dad many times about it. She said Garrett had a strange smell. Dad always protected Garrett, saying gently: “Victoria, it wasn’t easy for Garrett to make it out of the mountain region. We should help when we can.” Until one day Dad and I came home early from a trip. The house reeked of a sour, fishy smell, with clothes scattered everywhere. Dad’s footsteps stopped. He stood in the entryway, frozen in place like he’d been nailed to the floor. His hand was ice cold, but when he pushed open the bedroom door and saw Garrett and Mom in bed together, he suddenly laughed. The laugh was soft and brief, like something shattering on the ground. At first Mom said she’d had too much to drink. Later she said: “You’re just a house husband who never goes to work. I’m the only one supporting the company, and I’m exhausted too. But Garrett can help me. Do you understand?” In the past, when Dad heard this, he would go silent for a long time. But today, Dad just looked at Mom calmly and said: “Then you two better make sure you keep the company running.” Suddenly there was a sound of beads falling in the walk-in closet, followed by Garrett’s startled cry. Mom’s head snapped up and she rushed over. Dad stood up, a determination in his eyes I’d never seen before. He patted me. “Aria, wait here for Dad.” Then he got out of bed, turned on the light, and walked toward the closet. I followed him. Dad needed Aria with him. Aria couldn’t leave Dad alone. Garrett was clutching Mom’s sleeve, looking aggrieved. “I thought this sandalwood bracelet was beautiful, but it broke as soon as I put it on… I’m so scared, Victoria, I’m scared…” Mom kicked the remaining beads on the floor away. “What a piece of junk! Get away from me!” One bead rolled to my feet. I picked it up. It was Grandpa’s keepsake to Dad. Dad had pawned it years ago to start Mom’s company, and later Mom had redeemed it for him. Back then, Mom had put it on Dad’s wrist herself, her eyes full of smiles. “Dominic, forever and always. My feelings will never change.” Dad picked up one bead and put it in his pocket. I saw him turn on his phone’s video recording. **2** Dad held up the bead in his hand, his voice heavy. “Victoria, do you really not recognize what this is anymore?” Mom glanced impatiently at the beads on the floor, then her expression suddenly froze. Dad said slowly, word by word: “This was my father’s keepsake.” Mom let go of Garrett, a flicker of hesitation crossing her face. But Garrett suddenly extended his hand, pointing to a barely visible red mark on his wrist. “Victoria, this bracelet hurt my hand… It hurts so much.” Mom looked down at him, and the hesitation in her eyes instantly vanished. She helped Garrett up and walked toward the door, shouting outside. “Butler! Call 911!” As she passed Dad, she coldly dropped a line. “It’s just a keepsake. When people die, their light goes out. Why are you fixating on a dead object?” I walked over and held Dad’s hand. His hand was trembling slightly. But I saw he was smiling. He wiped away the moisture at the corner of his eyes, as if unloading a very heavy burden. Then he sent the recorded video to that man. “In three days, release this video.” That night, Dad coaxed me to sleep. I kept clutching his sleeve, afraid he’d disappear while I was asleep. Near dawn, Mom suddenly pushed the door open. She pulled me from the bed and started to drag me away. Dad took a big stride and blocked her path in front of me. “What are you doing?!” Mom frowned, her tone impatient. “Don’t you know? Garrett was hurt by that broken bracelet of yours and had to be hospitalized. His pet dog was also killed by you, and now there’s no one to keep him company. He’s making a scene at the hospital.” “I’m sending Aria to keep him entertained.” Dad shielded me behind him. “I told you, that dog’s death has nothing to do with me. And besides—” He stared at Mom intently. “Even if I did kill it, what right do you have to blame me? It ate my child’s ashes. Those were the ashes of your own biological child, his last trace in this world.” Mom’s eyes flickered, but she quickly resumed her impatient expression. Her tone softened as she walked to Dad’s side. “Dominic, I know I was wrong…” But the instant Dad was distracted, she suddenly grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the door. “Why are you bringing up old grievances? Garrett said the urn spilled by itself, and the dog just ate what it saw on the floor.” “Are you really going to hold a grudge against a dog? Be good, give me Aria. Garrett can’t be left alone!” Dad gripped my other hand tightly. “No! I won’t allow it!” Mom pulled harder, and I felt like a rope being yanked from both ends. My arm hurt so much I couldn’t help crying out. “Dad, it hurts… Mom’s hurting me…” Dad saw my face turn pale with pain, and his eyes reddened. Mom took advantage of his loosened grip in that instant, pulled me over, and dragged me toward the door. I bit down hard on Mom’s arm. “You’re a bad person! Let me go! I want Dad!” Mom cried out in pain and let go of me. I turned and ran back to Dad. Dad crouched down and held me tightly in his arms. Mom took another step forward. Dad blocked me behind him and didn’t back down. I grabbed Dad’s sleeve and said softly. “Dad, it’s okay. Aria will come back. Aria wants to leave with Dad.” **3** Mom shoved me into the car and spent the whole ride complaining about Dad and me. “I’m just asking you to visit Garrett at the hospital, it’s not like I’m killing you. What’s with your dad putting on that act…” I didn’t respond, turning to look out the window instead. All the decorations in the car had changed. The elegant sandalwood ornament Dad had chosen was gone, replaced by strong rose-scented diffusers. The sun visor even had several photos of Garrett clipped to it. Mom drove aggressively. At a turn, something slid down from the back seat. In the streetlight, I could see clearly—it was a men’s dress shirt. Mom glanced at it and frowned at me. “Don’t go through things that aren’t yours.” At the hospital, Garrett was lying in bed with a healthy flush, playing on his phone, surrounded by a circle of doctors. One doctor said carefully to Mom: “Ms. Lane, we’ve checked three times. There’s really nothing wrong with Mr. Garrett…” Mom’s face was cold. “Then why does Garrett still have a headache?” Garrett looked up from his phone screen at just the right moment, looking at Mom. “Victoria… my head… it hurts so much.” The doctor wiped his sweat and could only say: “It might be psychological.” I looked at Mom and asked: “Didn’t you tell Dad that people aren’t that fragile? Why are you so worried just because Garrett has a headache?” Mom’s face flushed with embarrassment, and she scolded me harshly. “How can your dad compare to Garrett? After all, Garrett was upset by your father. He’s so upset he has psychological trauma!” “You stay here and atone for your father’s sins.” Garrett waved at me, forcing a smile. “Aria, come here. Come to me.” I had just walked to the bedside when he suddenly coughed up a mouthful of blood and collapsed on the bed, motionless. Mom slapped me across the face. My ear rang with a buzzing sound as she screamed. “What did you do to Garrett?!” My head was buzzing and spinning. She grabbed my shoulders and shook me violently. “Speak! What did you do to Garrett?!” But from the corner of my eye, I could clearly see Garrett lying in bed opening his eyes and making a face at me. I said: “I didn’t do anything. He’s faking it.” “Nonsense!” Mom slapped me again and said harshly. “You’re so vicious at such a young age! Garrett has already been hurt this badly by you, and you still dare to slander him!” “Someone! Drag this brat out and beat her until she admits her fault!” Garrett’s lips curved into a triumphant smile, but Mom seemed completely blind to it. The bodyguard hesitated and didn’t move. Mom yelled at him. “Didn’t you hear me say to beat her? If something happens, it’s on me. I’m her biological mother—what are you afraid of!” The bodyguard could only step forward. He sighed. “Poor child…” Fists and kicks rained down on me. I curled into a ball, feeling nauseous. After Mom’s two slaps, my ears felt like they were stuffed with cotton. All sounds were muffled, and there was a drumming sound in my head. I felt something warm flowing out of my ear. I reached up to wipe it, and my palm was covered in bright red blood. A familiar figure rushed down the corridor. It was Dad. He was wearing a sharp suit, looking like a completely different person as he ran toward me with long strides. “Aria!” He pushed the bodyguard aside and pulled me up from the floor. Behind him were a dozen men in black suits who quickly restrained the bodyguard. “Dad…” I grabbed his sleeve. “I feel awful…”

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My mom was a liar. She said my dad hit her. But every time she pulled up her sleeves, her skin was clear, without a single mark. She’d cry and say, “He hit me again last night.” My dad would just stand by, sighing, “She’s having another episode.” Arthur, my dad, was a high school principal, gentle and refined. Everyone praised him as a good husband and father. And my mom? The neighbors said she was sick, Grandma Rose said it was postpartum depression, and doctors diagnosed paranoid delusion. I believed them too. Until that late night, when I came home early and caught my dad raising his fist. My mom saw me through the crack in the door. In that instant, her eyes lit up. It was then I understood she wasn’t waiting for me to save her. She was waiting for me to see it for myself. For as long as I could remember, Eleanor, my mom, told me Arthur, my dad, hit her. But she never had any proof. Every time she’d pull up her sleeves to show me, her skin was perfectly clear, not even a red mark. Every time she’d cry, “He hit me again last night,” my dad would stand next to her, sighing, a helpless look on his face: “She’s having another episode.” My dad was a high school principal, gentle and refined. All the teachers and students admired him. He attended my parent-teacher conferences, cooked for me, and when I had a fever, he’d stay by my bedside all night. He was the best dad in the world; I’d always thought that since I was little. And my mom? She’d suddenly throw things, suddenly scream, suddenly hug me and cry, saying, “If Mom dies, you have to live well.” The neighbors said she had a mental illness. Grandma Rose said it was postpartum depression; she’d been like this since I was born – suspicious, paranoid, and now it was worse. I took her to see a psychologist three times. Each diagnosis was the same: moderate depression with paranoid delusion. Even with the diagnosis, it wasn’t like I’d never had doubts. Once, when I was little, I saw some red marks on my mom’s arm and asked her how she got them. Before she could answer, my dad spoke up: “Your mom had a nightmare last night and pinched herself.” My mom opened her mouth, but didn’t contradict him. I thought it was strange at the time, but I didn’t think much of it. Later, I just got used to it. Used to her crying, used to her making a fuss, used to her suddenly putting down her forks at the dinner table and saying, “He hit me again.” Then my dad would sigh and put some food on my plate: “Eat. Don’t mind her.” I started to get annoyed with her. When I was in middle school, she once ran into my room in the middle of the night, shook me awake, and said, “Maya, your dad just pinched my thigh. Go check, there must be a mark.” I was so sleepy I just rolled over: “Eleanor, can you please stop? I have school tomorrow.” She stood by my bed, motionless for a long time. I thought she’d left. As I was drifting off to sleep, I heard her whisper, “I’m not making a fuss, I really am not.” I ignored her. It was even more annoying in high school. Every time she came back from the hospital, she’d pull me aside and ramble on about, “Your dad hit me again.” I’d slam the door: “Can you stop pretending? Will you only be happy if you drive Arthur away?” She stopped talking. At the time, I thought she just didn’t want me to have a good life. I’d worked so hard to get into a good high school. My dad cooked me delicious food every day and stayed up late studying with me. And her? All she did was fuss and cry. Once, she even chased me to the school gate and, in front of my classmates, pulled me aside and said, “Your dad hit me last night.” I yanked my hand away, my voice loud: “Are you insane?” All my classmates were staring at me. My mom stood at the school gate, stunned for a long time, then turned and walked away. Her back was hunched, and she walked very slowly. I was embarrassed then. Now that I think about it, she was wearing long sleeves and long pants that day, in over ninety-degree weather.

During the winter break of my sophomore year, I went home for the holidays. The Christmas Eve dinner was lively; all the relatives were there. My dad cooked a full table of dishes himself. Relatives praised him for being capable, asking my mom where she found such a good man. My dad stood up, glass in hand, smiling. “Thank you all for taking care of our family these years. Especially, I want to thank Eleanor for putting up with my bad temper. Sometimes I speak too quickly, raise my voice a little, and she thinks I’m going to hit her.” He paused, a wry smile on his face: “She’s been through a lot because of me.” All the relatives laughed. I laughed too. Uncle Mike chimed in: “Arthur, you call that a bad temper? You’re so gentle with us.” Aunt Sarah agreed: “Exactly, Eleanor is just too sensitive.” My dad shook his head, looking remorseful: “It’s not her fault; she’s sick, you know. I just need to be more understanding.” Everyone was praising him for being generous and responsible. My mom sat in the corner, holding a pork rib with her fork, her hand trembling. The rib fell back onto the plate. She picked it up again, and it fell again. Suddenly, I felt annoyed. Everyone at the table was happy, and she was the only one with a long face. “Eleanor, can’t you just be happy? It’s the holidays.” My voice wasn’t quiet when I said that, and several relatives looked over. She looked up at me. Her lips trembled a few times, but she didn’t speak. Her eyes held an expression I couldn’t place, as if she wanted to say something, but swallowed it back. I didn’t think much of it and continued eating. That night, I was scrolling on my phone in my room when I heard a muffled thud from next door. “Thud!” like something hit the wall. I didn’t move. A little while later, another sound, softer this time. I put down my phone and pushed the door open. My mom’s room door was ajar, with light spilling out. I pushed the door open. My dad stood by the bed, rubbing my mom’s shoulder. My mom was lying face down on the pillow, her face buried, so I couldn’t see her expression. “What’s wrong?” I asked. My dad turned to look at me, his expression very natural: “Eleanor has a stiff neck. I’m just rubbing it for her.” My mom turned her face away from the pillow and glanced at me. I still remember that look. It wasn’t sadness, it wasn’t pain, it was despair. She opened her mouth, her lips moved, then closed again. I stood in the doorway for a few seconds; she didn’t speak. “Well, get some sleep.” I closed the door. As I reached the stairwell, I paused. For some reason, something felt off. But I thought about it and decided I was overthinking. My dad rubbing my mom’s shoulder – wasn’t that perfectly normal? The next morning, I got up for a drink and saw my mom in the kitchen. She was holding a bowl with her left hand, in a very awkward position. I glanced at it and saw a few red marks on the back of her left hand, a bit swollen. “What happened to your hand?” She looked down at it, her voice calm: “Arthur hit it with a book last night.” I paused for half a second, then laughed. “A book can cause red marks like that? Eleanor, at least make your lies more believable.” Just then, my dad came out of his study and heard us. He walked over, looked at my mom’s hand, and gave a wry smile. “Your mom ran into the door frame yesterday. I heard a noise from my room and ran out, only to see her squatting on the floor, rubbing her hand. She doesn’t remember things, sleeps it off and forgets, then thinks I hit her.” He said it so naturally, and my mom didn’t contradict him. She carried the bowl of porridge and slowly walked to the balcony, sitting on a small stool, her back to me. I looked at her back, and that little doubt in my heart was suppressed again. My dad patted my shoulder: “Don’t take it to heart. Eleanor’s illness is just like that.” I nodded. From that day on, I never doubted her again.

The summer of my junior year, I didn’t go home. I stayed at school to prepare for graduate school exams. The library in July was like a sauna. I spent every day in there, doing practice problems from eight in the morning until ten at night. My phone was on silent; I didn’t want to answer anyone’s calls. That afternoon, I was working on an English practice test when my phone vibrated. It was my mom. I hesitated, but picked up. “Maya, can you come home and see me? I can’t take it anymore.” Her voice was very soft, as if she was afraid of being overheard. It was also choked with tears, her voice hoarse, as if she’d been crying for a long time. At the time, I was stuck on a reading comprehension passage, getting three out of five questions wrong, and I was incredibly frustrated. “Can you stop using this tactic? I’m studying for grad school. If I don’t get in, will you be responsible?” Silence on the other end. After about ten seconds, she said one word. “Okay.” Then she hung up. I didn’t think anything of it. I flipped my phone face down on the table and continued working on the problems. That summer, my mom almost died. She slashed her wrists in the bathroom. Hot water flooded the floor, and blood flowed into the hallway. A neighbor smelled blood, knocked on the door with no answer, and called the police. When my dad called me, his tone was calm. “Maya, your mom is acting up again. You should come home.” I bought the next train ticket, and it was already past midnight when I arrived. My mom lay in the hospital bed, her left wrist wrapped in thick gauze, her face as white as paper. When she saw me, her eyes lit up. She said, “Maya, I didn’t want to die.” I stood by the bed; I didn’t sit. “I wanted to record it.” “Record what?” “Him hitting me. I wanted to record it when he hit me and upload it to my phone. That way, you’d believe me.” I was trembling with anger. “You slashed your wrists to prove Arthur hit you? Are you out of your mind?” My voice was loud; a nurse poked her head into the hallway to look. My mom didn’t argue. She closed her eyes, and tears streamed down her temples into her hair. Looking at her, my heart was a mix of anger and sorrow. My mom opened her eyes again and looked at me. “Maya, I’m really not sick. Will you believe me just this once? Just once.” I opened my mouth, wanting to say something, but nothing came out. I turned and walked out of the hospital room. In the hallway, my dad sat on a long bench, hands propped on his knees, head bowed. When he saw me come out, he stood up, his eyes red. “Maya, I’m sorry.” His voice was trembling. “I didn’t take good care of Eleanor. I made you worry. If you hate me, I accept it.” He pulled me into a hug, his shoulders shaking, crying like a child. I’d never seen Arthur cry before. My nose stung, and I hugged him back, patting his back. “Arthur, it’s not your fault.” I said it firmly. “It’s Eleanor’s illness.” My dad hugged me tighter. Holding him, I thought, after I finish grad school, I must take Eleanor to a better hospital. In New York, in Los Angeles, no matter the cost. Cure her illness. Then everyone would have peace.

That winter, I got in. The day my graduate school acceptance letter arrived at school, I called Arthur. He was so happy his voice changed, saying he’d cook a huge dinner to celebrate when I came home. I had planned to wait until the holidays to go back, but I just couldn’t wait. I wanted to surprise him. And surprise my mom too. Even though I didn’t have much to say to her, when I held the acceptance letter, I still wanted her to see it. No matter what, she was my mom. She gave birth to me, raised me. Even if she was sick, even if she annoyed me, something like getting into grad school, she’d probably want to see that, right? I didn’t tell them, and bought a ticket for a week earlier. The train was delayed for two hours, and it was already past nine at night when I arrived. Winter days get dark early. The wind at the station entrance whistled into my collar. I hunched my shoulders, hailed a taxi, and told the driver the address. My mind was racing, thinking about what I’d say when I opened the door. “I got in” was too ordinary. “Eleanor, look, this is my acceptance letter”—that sentence ran through my mind, then I swallowed it back. Forget it, I’d just say it when the time came. The car stopped at the community gate, and I dragged my suitcase inside. Some of the hallway lights were broken, flickering on and off. Climbing to the fourth floor, I rummaged in my bag for my key and inserted it into the lock. The lights inside the house were off. I thought they were all asleep. I quietly turned the key, changed my shoes, and took two steps inside. Then I heard a sound. It came from the master bedroom. It was muffled, like something hitting flesh. One hit, a few seconds’ pause, then another. Someone was talking too. It was my dad’s voice. “Are you trying to call Maya again? Are you trying to bring our daughter back again?” “Do you want to destroy this family so badly?” I didn’t turn on the lights. The hallway was dark. I fumbled my way to the master bedroom door. The door wasn’t fully closed, leaving a crack. I looked inside. My mom was kneeling on the floor. Kneeling. Her whole body was slumped, her knees against the floor, her upper body leaning against the bed, as if she couldn’t stand up. My dad stood in front of her, one hand gripping her chin, lifting her face. His other hand was clenched into a fist, suspended in mid-air. “I’ve supported you for over twenty years. Is this how you repay me?” The words “My dad hit me” exploded in my head. But I still didn’t move. When my mom’s face turned, I didn’t see any obvious injuries. There was a small cut at the corner of her mouth, tiny, like she’d accidentally bumped it. A very faint red mark on her left cheek, as if something had brushed against it. Her left hand was curled, unable to straighten, and there was bruising under her fingernails, dark purple. When my dad’s fist came down, she didn’t flinch. She didn’t even close her eyes. She just looked at him, her eyes as calm as someone not being hit. Then she saw me. Through the crack in the door, she saw me. In that instant, her eyes lit up. It was then I understood she wasn’t waiting for me to save her. She was waiting for me to see it for myself.

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On the day we were supposed to get our marriage license, my fiancé had me thrown out of City Hall and went in with his childhood sweetheart instead. He looked at me like it was nothing. “Chloe’s baby needs a father on paper.” “Once we divorce, I’ll marry you.” Everyone thought I’d swallow my pride and wait another month. After all, I’d already waited seven years. But that night, I left the country for an arranged marriage. I vanished from his world completely. Three years later, my husband and I flew back stateside for a family memorial. My husband had a last-minute work emergency. So he told his local branch to send a car for me. I walked out of the airport. And froze. My driver was Seth. My ex-fiancé. He looked at me and sighed. “Alright, your little tantrum has gone on long enough.” “Come home.” “Chloe’s kid starts preschool next week.” “You’re in charge of the drop-offs.” I walked into the arrivals terminal. And saw a guy holding a VIP pickup sign. With my name on it. I walked over. And froze. Holding the sign was my ex-fiancé, Seth. He was craning his neck. Looking past me at the luggage carousels. He had Chloe with him. And half his old frat-boy entourage. One of the guys nudged him. “Yo Seth, isn’t that your obsessed ex?” “Isn’t that Vanessa?” Seth looked at me. He looked surprised for a split second. Then he smirked. “See? I told you guys.” “I knew she’d come crawling back.” The whole group burst out laughing. “Vanessa vanished without a trace.” “Now she sees Seth is loaded.” “She probably cries herself to sleep every night!” One of them looked me up and down. “Vanessa, if you’re gonna fake a random run-in…” “Why show up in sweatpants?” “Couldn’t you at least put on some makeup?” “Without Seth, you can’t even buy a nice outfit?” “You look pathetic.” It was true. I used to spend hours getting ready for Seth. Full face of makeup. Tight designer dresses. Always making sure I looked absolutely perfect for him. But I didn’t need to do that anymore. Because I’m pregnant. And my husband refused to let me be uncomfortable. He banned heavy makeup. And had this “cheap loungewear” custom-tailored for me in Paris. Listening to them mock me, it suddenly clicked. They only read the name on the corporate dispatch. They had no idea the VIP they were picking up… Was me.

Since I wasn’t saying anything, an old mutual friend stepped in. Trying to play peacemaker. “Vanessa, it’s good you’re back.” “Seth actually spent years looking for you.” “He asked about you everywhere!” Seth’s smug smile stiffened. He cleared his throat and acted nonchalant. “Chloe’s kid starts preschool next week.” “From now on, you’re in charge of the drop-offs.” He was still so incredibly arrogant. But I wasn’t that naive little girl anymore. Looking at him now? I just felt exhausted. And grossed out. I didn’t want to waste another second on them. I was just about to tell them exactly who I was. But Chloe beat me to it. “Vanessa, please don’t be mad at Seth.” “He’s just trying to take care of you.” “You disappeared for three years.” “Who knows what kind of shady stuff you had to do to survive?” “Look at how rundown you are.” “Seth wanted to make you my personal secretary.” “But clearly you can’t handle that.” “Don’t worry.” “Being my nanny is a respectable job.” “No one will look down on you.” Three years apart, she’s still as arrogant as ever. She still makes me cringe. Seth saw my scowl. And thought I was just jealous. His eyes flashed with triumph. “Alright, Vanessa, drop the attitude.” “You clearly can’t survive out there.” “So stop throwing tantrums.” “Take care of the kid and learn your place.” “Don’t worry.” “My mansion has a perfectly good nanny room in the basement.” The whole group howled with laughter. “Damn, Vanessa, look how good Seth is to you!” “He’s giving you free room and board!” “Isn’t babysitting better than whatever trashy life you’re living now?” “Hurry up and say thank you!” Chloe touched her diamond earring. Putting on an affected tone. “Don’t you worry, dear.” “If my son acts up, I’ll make sure to set him straight for you.” “I won’t let you be mistreated.” Seth let out a cold laugh and shot me a glance. “Why would she be mistreated?” “She ran away over a tiny little misunderstanding.” “If she hit rock bottom out there…” “She deserves to suffer a little.” Hearing that… My heart actually skipped a beat. After three years. He still thought ditching me at the County Clerk’s Office for Chloe… Was just a “tiny little misunderstanding.” The Seth who used to love me was truly dead. He wasn’t the boy who carried me across town, ignoring his own bleeding cuts. He wasn’t the broke teenager who promised me the world. He wasn’t the man who, despite all his fame and success, was still willing to cook for me. But whatever. It was all in the past. None of it mattered anymore. Besides. I’m about to give birth to my second baby anyway.

I pushed my feelings down. I didn’t want to argue with them. It was pointless. I looked at Seth. My voice was completely calm. “Aren’t you here to pick me up?” “Let’s go.” The whole group went dead silent. They exchanged looks. Then they burst out laughing. Chloe sneered. “Pick you up?” “Don’t make me laugh.” She pointed at the VIP sign. “Read it carefully.” “We are waiting for Mrs. Vance.” “Do you even know who that is?” Vance was my new married name. Of course I knew. “Mrs. Vance is the matriarch of the Vance family.” “She is the actual wife of Grayson Vance.” “Grayson Vance is a ruthless billionaire.” “But he’s completely obsessed with his wife.” “Rumor has it, he stayed single for years.” “Just waiting for her.” “Everyone in the industry knows the rule.” “Don’t try to kiss up to Grayson.” “Kiss up to Mrs. Vance.” “She is his entire world.” Listening to them gossip about my marriage… I couldn’t help it. A genuine, happy smile spread across my face. We had been married for three years. Grayson’s empire had only gotten bigger. And his reputation as a fiercely devoted husband had spread everywhere. Chloe always needed to feel superior to me. She couldn’t pass up a chance to show off. “To win his wife’s heart…” “Grayson Vance bought a custom diamond bracelet at Christie’s.” “It’s called ‘Eternal Heart’.” “It cost twenty million dollars.” “Mrs. Vance is literally the most envied woman on earth.” Chloe paused. Her eyes darted down to my wrist. She let out a sharp gasp. “That’s the exact same bracelet!” The terminal went dead silent again. Every single person stared at my wrist. Seth violently grabbed my hand. He yanked my arm up to inspect the bracelet. Then he scoffed. “It’s a pretty good fake!” “Which broke delivery guy bought this for you?” “Buying you a cheap knockoff.” “Absolute trash.” I snatched my hand back. And gently rubbed the bracelet on my wrist. I smirked. Seeing my happy, unfazed smile… Seth’s eyes narrowed in pure rage. He lunged forward. He grabbed my wrist with a crushing grip. And violently ripped the bracelet off my arm. I gasped in shock. I wasn’t expecting him to get physical. He tore it right off. Chloe eagerly stepped forward. She snatched the bracelet from Seth’s hand. And started playing with it. “Wow, it really is a high-quality fake.” “Way better than the replica I bought.” “But I’d never actually wear mine in public.” “It’s so embarrassing.” “These overseas knockoffs hit different.” “The weight actually feels real.” She gave me a mocking, sickly sweet smile. “Or what, Vanessa?” “Are you going to tell us you’re the real Mrs. Vance?” “Are you the legendary billionaire’s wife?” The second she said it. The frat boys erupted into hysterical laughter. To them, it was the most absurd joke in the world. Grayson Vance was a globally feared financial shark. He was ruthless and unstoppable. And three years ago, I was just their pathetic friend. The loser who got dumped at the Clerk’s Office. There was absolutely no way. Chloe spun the twenty-million-dollar bracelet around her finger. “Vanessa, just sell this fake to me.” “I’ll pay you double what your broke boyfriend paid.” I panicked, terrified she was going to drop it. “Give that back right now!” “Grayson gave that to me—” I didn’t even get to finish my sentence. Seth’s hand slammed across my face. My head snapped to the side. And I tasted copper as my lip split open. “Shut your mouth!”

Seth glared at me like I was insane. “Vanessa, do you have a death wish?” “You think you can just casually drop Mr. Vance’s name?” “Are you trying to get me killed?” His frat-boy buddies stared at me with pure rage. “Do you have any idea how hard we fought for this airport pickup?” “Grayson Vance bought out Seth’s company last year.” “Our entire livelihoods depend on him now.” “The only way Seth keeps his executive spot is if we impress Mrs. Vance.” “And you’re out here spreading psychotic rumors that you know the CEO?” “Are you trying to ruin Seth’s career?” I wiped the blood from my split lip. And slowly turned my head. Then locked eyes with Seth. My stare must have been dead cold. Because Seth frowned. A flicker of genuine panic flashed across his eyes. Chloe saw that tiny shift in his expression. Her eyes turned venomous. She pointed right at my nose “Vanessa, you ungrateful bitch.” “Seth was kind enough to offer you a roof over your head!” “Don’t push your luck.” “I know you’re bitter about the past.” “But trying to sabotage his career out of petty revenge?” “That’s sick.” Hearing her say that… It felt exactly like three years ago. No matter what I did, Chloe would twist it. She would feed her poisoned version of reality to Seth. In the early days, he used to defend me. But by the end, he always took her side. Just like right now. Seth shook his head in disgust. “You’re such a jealous shrew.” But this time, he didn’t keep screaming at me. He went quiet for a second. Then he pulled out his checkbook. He scribbled a check for twenty grand. And shoved it right in my face. “For the sake of what we used to be, I’ll let this slide.” “Take the cash.” “Go buy some clothes that don’t look like trash.” “If you really don’t want to nanny Chloe’s kid…” “I’ll pull some strings and get you a decent job next week.” “Don’t worry.” “Ever since the Vance acquisition, this kind of money is pocket change to me.” Watching him play the generous billionaire savior made my stomach turn. Clearly, life had been way too easy for him lately. The whole group watched me. Waiting for me to grovel and take the money. Instead, I shoved his hand away. I reached over and snatched my diamond bracelet right out of Chloe’s hand. I gave him a polite, freezing smile. “No thank you, sir.” “I don’t take handouts from strangers.”

Seth’s face turned bright red. I ignored him and turned to walk away. But I barely made it two steps before he grabbed my arm. “Vanessa! You won’t even take my money?” “What is your problem?” “Am I just a stranger to you now?” I pulled my arm free. “We broke up three years ago.” “It’s better if we keep our distance.” “I wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.” I was thinking about my fiercely loyal, slightly jealous billionaire husband. But Seth glanced over at Chloe. He looked like he had it all figured out. “My company is hosting a massive gala for Mr. Vance in three days.” “I was actually planning to bring you as my plus-one.” “To let you experience high society.” “But you’d need to buy a decent dress.” “I can’t have you embarrassing me—” I cut him off immediately. “I really don’t need to go. Thanks.” Hearing me reject him again, Seth grew annoyed. His hand, still holding the twenty-thousand-dollar check, hovered awkwardly in the air. He was grinding his teeth. “Vanessa, you’ve really grown a spine, haven’t you?” “It’s true what they say.” “The poorer you get, the bigger your attitude.” “Fine! If you don’t want to go, forget it!” “I’ll take Chloe!” Hearing that she got to attend the billionaire’s gala, Chloe’s eyes lit up. “Seth, I promise I’ll be perfect!” “I absolutely won’t embarrass you!” I was so incredibly done with them. I turned around and strode away. But I tossed one last look over my shoulder. “I hope you’re still this confident in three days.” I practically sprinted out of the arrivals terminal. Hitting the fresh air outside. Finally pushing down the nausea churning in my stomach. My mind flashed back to three years ago. My parents had been pressuring me into an arranged marriage overseas. I fought them on it. I begged Seth, my boyfriend of seven years, to just elope with me. To sign the papers and make us permanent. Seth agreed. But when I showed up at the County Clerk’s Office… He brought his childhood sweetheart, Chloe. He told me her baby needed a legal father. He told me he’d divorce her in a month and marry me then. He told me not to overthink it. Watching him hold her hand and walk into that Clerk’s Office… I’m completely done. I flew overseas for a blind date that very night. A month later, I married Grayson Vance. A year later, we had our first baby. And now, I’m pregnant with our second. Honestly, if it wasn’t for Grayson’s family memorial… I never would have set foot back in this country. And I definitely wouldn’t have bumped into Seth.

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My boss offered me 500,000 dollars just for my breast milk. I thought he wanted it to feed a baby. But then I saw him lying there, weak and almost lifeless. After drinking my milk, he suddenly regained his strength. That’s when I realized he was using it as medicine. Later, he offered me five million dollars to nurse him directly. For the money, I said yes. And then, he asked me if 50 million would be enough for me to… * My boss called me into his office that day. I was freaking out, terrified that he was going to lay me off. If I lost this job, I wouldn’t have a dime coming in. Back when I was pregnant with my daughter, Lily, my previous company basically forced me out. After prenatal checkups and hospital bills drained what little savings I had, I had no choice but to ask my husband for money. Every single time, he gave me this attitude. He’d constantly nag me, saying, “You don’t need to buy this,” or “That’s a waste of money.” And he always ended with, “Look, I’m broke too.” Thank God I had plenty of milk and could breastfeed. Still, diapers aren’t free, and neither are clothes. My daughter’s clothes were already too small, and with winter here, she needed warm clothes. Honestly, if I hadn’t lucked out and found this job, she wouldn’t even have diapers or warm clothes. Relax. My boss said gently as he sat across from me. This is personal. I relaxed a little. And then my boss smiled faintly at me. My boss was good-looking, came from a very wealthy family, and clearly never had to worry about money. God, I wish I could be him. I hated myself for being so naive back then, marrying my husband and having a child at that age. Now my life is miserable, and my child has to suffer with me. Are you currently breastfeeding? I’d like to buy some of your breast milk, if that’s okay. Don’t worry, I’ll pay you. I naturally assumed he had a baby at home, or maybe a friend whose wife wasn’t producing enough milk. In my mom groups, there were always mothers who didn’t have enough milk and asked if anyone had extra. But usually, it’s free. If you have extra, you just pass it on. So I said, ‘Sir, if you need it, you don’t have to pay me. My baby can’t finish it anyway, and the extra just goes to waste.’ He quickly said, ‘Absolutely not. I don’t like owing favors. And I need it supplied on time every day. If you don’t accept payment, I won’t feel comfortable making specific demands.’ Ah, so he did have conditions. Fair enough. If I didn’t take his money, it would be awkward for him to demand anything. So I nodded. ‘Alright, but you don’t have to pay much.’ If I kept him happy, he probably wouldn’t fire me. Then, he asked for my bank account and directly transferred 500,000 dollars to me.

I stared at him, completely shocked. ‘This… this is way too much!’ He stopped me before I could say more. ‘Just take it. I have many specific requirements. Plus, you’ve done your medical checks, so I feel safe about your health. I also have some pretty intrusive requests, so you deserve this. Staring at that 500,000-dollar balance, my eyes stung with tears. Minutes earlier, I had only about 80 bucks left in my bank account. I didn’t even buy lunch at work anymore. To save money, I would go to the company pantry and eat the free crackers and bread there. I was really that poor. So even if my husband and mother-in-law treated me like dirt, I didn’t even dare to get a divorce. If I did, they might fight me for custody. Even if I got custody, who would take care of her? I’d still have to rely on my mother-in-law for help. On top of that, leaving my husband meant renting my own place. I really regretted being so young and naive, rushing into marriage and motherhood. Every step felt impossible. But with these 500,000 dollars from my boss, a huge part of my problem would be solved. He told me his conditions. First, you need to pump the milk in my office every day. You can’t do it anywhere else, because I need to make sure the milk is clean and safe. That sounded reasonable. I’ve heard that he came from a wealthy family, and rich people were always afraid someone might try to harm them. Second, to make sure the milk is nutritious, you’ll eat three meals a day prepared by my personal chef. Wow. The wealthy really live in a different world. But this was good for my daughter too, and I was actually getting the better end of the deal. I wouldn’t have to eat dinner at home, so I wouldn’t have to face my husband or my mother-in-law. It’s perfect. Third, I don’t want you to have sex during this period. Me:??? Okay, that is definitely crossing a line. But hey, the man just gave me half a million dollars. Besides, I don’t want to touch my husband ever again anyway. So I nodded readily. Then I went into his private lounge to pump. It was kinda humiliating to be honest. Stepping into his private space doing such personal things. But ever since I became a mother, my pride had taken a back seat. For the money, and for the future of my daughter and myself, I gritted my teeth and sped through the process. I walked out holding two bottles of milk. Mortified, I asked, “Sir, I’m done. Should I put these in the fridge for you?” Without even looking up, he said, I’ll handle them later.

My boss had me eat dinner in his office. The food was healthy, filling, and actually delicious. After pumping milk once more, I clocked out and went home. I had to hide my bank card first. I was afraid my husband would find out. I wanted to divorce him. But not yet. The timing was not right. I needed to get through probation first and make sure I had a steady income. That money from my boss was my safety net. And I needed to wait until my daughter was old enough for daycare. But honestly, the thought of daycare still made me nervous. And I had no one else to help me watch her. So for the time being, I was trapped. When I got home, my mother-in-law just dumped the baby on me and headed out to a bar. My husband was just sitting there, glued to a game on his phone. He did not make much money either, yet I had been pathetic enough to hope he’d help out with babysitting. But every time I asked him to do anything, he always found an excuse to wiggle out of it. Before the pregnancy, he had been the perfect, devoted husband. He had done everything—the cooking, the cleaning, the laundry. He had promised to treat me like a queen. But as soon as I was pregnant, the mask slipped. He stopped doing housework, stopped giving me money, and kept saying we needed to save money. If I’d seen his true colors back then, I wouldn’t have looked at him twice. I was in the room, breastfeeding the baby. Looking around that cramped, messy rental apartment, I felt so lonely and hopeless. I couldn’t stand the thought of my daughter living like that. At night, Lily slept between us. My husband started pawing at my pants. He used to be so affectionate, making me feel cherished. But at that time I felt like I was just a hole to him. A tool for his release. There was no foreplay, no nothing. I told him no. He snapped, “It’s been long enough since the baby was born. You’re fine to have sex now.” We struggled, and I landed a sharp slap across his face. He slapped me right back. In the dark, we just stared at each other in silence. He started ripping at my clothes again. I grabbed my phone and smashed it right against his head. He flicked the light on and screamed at me, “Cyrus! What the hell is wrong with you?!’ His eyes were wild. I froze, paralyzed by his rage. The baby woke up and started wailing. I pulled her close, trying to quiet her down. That just made him angrier. He gave me a hard shove, and before I could react, I hit the floor with the baby in my arms. Luckily, I hit the ground first and held her up so she wouldn’t get hurt. My mother-in-law burst into the room. Without a word, she rushed over and slapped me. “You worthless bitch! How dare you talk back to my son? Who the hell do you think you are? I could not fight back at all. The baby was terrified and crying even harder. My husband just stood there, coldly watching his mother beat me. After she was done, she snarled at me, “You better serve my son right, or I’ll make your life a living hell. Who do you think you are? A useless second-hand bitch. Just suck it up, shut your mouth, and serve my son! Then she turned to my husband and said: ‘A woman only learns to behave when you rough her up. You treated her way too well, and it made her forget who’s in charge here.’ He said: ‘I get it, mom. Take the baby out.’ She reached for the baby. I knew exactly what he was planning to do. It wasn’t the first time he had forced himself on me. He had even told me: ‘Are you a nun or something? We’re married. I can do whatever I want to you, and the cops won’t do a damn thing!’

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The Chieftain gathered every unmated male and told me and sister to choose. Male shifters are ranked S, A, B, or C. My sister Lyra chose the clan’s only A-rank wolf shifter. She bore him five litters. Every single one B-rank. He raged. Cast her out. Tore the bond like it was nothing. The other males wanted nothing to do with her either. And me — I chose a B-rank snake shifter. One litter. Ten cubs. Every single one A-rank. The whole clan named me the Sacred Daughter. My mate inherited the Chieftain’s seat. Lyra couldn’t stand it. She killed all my children and pushed me off a cliff. When I opened my eyes again, we were back. Back to the day of choosing. I came back to myself just as Lyra pressed her body against the snake shifter’s side. “Chieftain.” she said sweetly. “I choose him.” I understood immediately She’d been reborn too. Actually, my sister and I weren’t from this world. But we couldn’t find a way back. In the end, we would just have to adapt to the rules here. But this time, I absolutely won’t let her control everything! * In this world, Male shifters are born ranked — S, A, B, or C. The higher the rank, the more valuable the male. C-rank males were everywhere. B-rank was considered a prize. A-rank was rare enough to cause a stir. As for S-rank — even the elderly Chieftain had never seen one. Females in the Beastlands were fewer than males. Their social standing was higher, which standing on the children they bore. The higher the rank of your cubs, the higher you climbed. In our last life, Lyra had wanted to be the top female in the clan. She’d gone straight for the only A-rank wolf shifter without blinking. She’d told me to choose Voss, the snake shifter. “Snakes have two, you know.” she’d said, with that conspiratorial smile of hers, “But they lay eggs. Hatching eggs is so much easier than live birth.” I’d listened. I’d chosen Voss. We bonded, and I fell pregnant quickly. One clutch — ten cubs — every single one A-rank. This clan had existed for over a century. Among clans,They’d never had more than five A-rank shifters total. The Chieftain declared Voss his successor on the spot.

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On the day I was supposed to marry Bernard, heir to the Godfather, his adopted sister threatened to kill herself. For her sake, Bernard abandoned me and fled the wedding. I became the laughingstock of the entire city. When I saw the mocking looks from the guests, I immediately announced, “Whoever is willing to marry me today, I’ll marry him!” Three years later, Bernard returned with his adopted sister, Sandra. Bernard stared in shock at my swollen belly, then asked through gritted teeth, “Whose child are you carrying?” I smiled. “A child of this family, of course.” …… Bernard yanked me up in a fury. “You bitch! On the day I was supposed to marry you, I left with Sandra. I haven’t been back for three years. How could that child possibly be mine?” I found it laughable. I had never said the child was his. Besides, he was not the only man in this family. “Of course it isn’t your child. You don’t deserve to be my child’s father.” Hearing my answer, Sandra covered her mouth in shock. “Mignon, even though Bernard abandoned you at the wedding and eloped with me, you are still his wife!” “All these years, you’ve been enjoying the wealth of the Ben family. How could you shamelessly cheat on him and get pregnant with another man’s child?” I glanced at her, my expression calm. “Sandra, you openly carried on an incestuous relationship with your adopted brother, Bernard. I doubt anyone could be more shameless than the two of you.” At that, Sandra’s eyes instantly reddened. Tears fell in fat drops as she turned to Bernard with a wounded look. “Bernard, for the past three years we’ve kept a proper distance, but she betrayed you and got pregnant. Now she’s even trying to frame us.” After hearing Sandra’s words, Bernard’s breathing grew harsher. Then he raised his hand and slapped me hard across the face. “You shameless bitch! You’re carrying another man’s child, and you still dare slander me and Sandra? Get out of my house right now!” A sharp pain exploded across my cheek, and the force of it left my mind blank. Three years ago, Bernard and Sandra eloped, leaving me alone at the wedding to be mocked by everyone. Back then, I had been helpless and humiliated, raging inside but unable to do anything. Anger overwhelmed my reason, and I announced on the spot that I would marry whoever was willing to marry me. What I never expected was that the man who stepped forward would be Bernard’s uncle, Bowen. Bowen was the adopted son of Bernard’s grandfather. He was the strongest fighter in the Ben family, and the person their enemies feared most. Even Bernard was afraid of this cold, distant uncle. After Bowen and I married, everyone treated me with exceptional warmth and courtesy. When I became pregnant, Bowen was overjoyed, and he cared for me even more carefully. If Bowen knew Bernard had hit me, he would make Bernard pay. Thinking of the child in my belly, I frowned and said coldly, “If you leave now, I’ll pretend this never happened.” I thought they would at least restrain themselves. Instead, they did not appreciate it at all. Sandra reached out and grabbed my hair. “Bernard, she must be scared! She wants to drive us out and use this child as a bargaining chip to take everything from you.” Bernard’s expression changed. He glared at me and cursed, “What a despicable woman. So this is your plan? I won’t let you succeed!” I broke free from Sandra’s grip, anger filling my chest. “From the day you eloped with Sandra, the old Godfather already announced that you no longer had anything to do with this family.” Sandra laughed softly, as if mocking my “nonsense.” “The old Godfather was only speaking in anger. Bernard is his only heir. How could he possibly announce that Bernard has nothing to do with the family?” Bernard’s face also filled with smugness. “I am the only blood-related heir of the Ben family. Naturally, I am the only one who will inherit the title of Godfather.” I instinctively placed my hand on my belly. After all, Bowen was already the Godfather now, and my child was also the Godfather’s heir. At that moment, Bernard’s eyes widened. He raised his hand and pointed at me. “You shameless bitch! Are you trying to pass your child off as mine so he can seize the Godfather’s position in the future? I’m going to teach you a lesson today!” He slapped me hard again. I clutched my belly and fell to the floor, accidentally knocking over a teacup. Looking at their vicious expressions, fear rose inside me. I was afraid they really would hurt my child. I could no longer worry about anything else, and I tried to tell them the truth. “He isn’t an illegitimate child. He is…”

Before I could finish speaking, Bernard bent down and grabbed my hair violently. “For the past three years, Sandra and I have been wandering from place to place, while you lived a rich, happy life in my home. It’s time you paid the price.” His eyes searched around, finally landing on the broken shards of the teacup. His gaze turned vicious. He grabbed a shard and shoved it into my mouth. The sharp porcelain cut through my lips and tongue, and blood flooded my mouth. I lifted one arm to protect myself, but Sandra stepped on the back of my hand. Pain made my whole body tremble, but I could not make a sound. After Bernard shoved the shards into my mouth, he spat on me, then clapped his hands and stood up. Sandra’s gaze fell on my belly. She stepped closer and closer until she was only ten centimeters away from it. Terrified, I grabbed her ankle tightly with both hands to stop her from doing anything. This child had not come easily. To me and Bowen, he meant everything. Sandra laughed mockingly. “Mignon, you look like a bitch protecting her litter. How ugly.” Bernard stared at my belly and frowned. “If word gets out that I was betrayed, what happens to my reputation? Sandra, stomp her to death. Kill the child too.” As I spat out blood and broken porcelain, I shook my head desperately and forced out the truth through the pain. “This child… is… Bowen’s…” Bernard froze for a moment after hearing that. Then he burst into loud laughter. “Mignon, if you want to lie to me, at least come up with a better excuse. The entire Ben family knows my uncle doesn’t like women.” Sandra agreed. “You really are shameless. After being exposed, you dare slander Bowen?” “Bernard is the Godfather’s heir. Do you think he’d be fooled so easily, you idiot?” Bernard and Sandra had eloped for three years without sending even a single letter home. The old Godfather, York, had been utterly disappointed in him and finally gave up. Within the family, he issued the announcement that Bernard was completely cut off and that the choice of Godfather would be changed. But the two of them clearly knew nothing about it. To avoid provoking them further, I did not argue. I could only try to explain the origin of the child in my belly. “I’m not lying. I really am carrying Bowen’s child.” “If you don’t believe me, send someone to Bowen and confirm it.” Bernard gripped my chin. “Bowen has always been cold-blooded and ruthless. If he knew I couldn’t even handle something as small as my wife cheating, he’d only think I was useless. When it came time for me to inherit the Godfather’s position, he would never agree. He might even steal my place…” “Mignon, I’m guessing this is another scheme of yours, isn’t it?” Sandra gave a cold snort and stepped on my belly. “Bernard, why waste time on this loose woman?” “Why don’t we just kill the child? Then we’ll tell the old Godfather and make him understand that Mignon was the one who was shameless and betrayed you. He definitely won’t blame you for running from the wedding then.” A sharp pain tore through my abdomen. I could feel the child turning wildly inside me, and an unprecedented, indescribable terror surged up. I looked at them and begged, “Please, let my child go…” Sandra suddenly laughed, as if she had thought of a wonderful idea. “Kneel. Crawl like a dog. Bark while you admit you’re a filthy, promiscuous woman. If you do that, I’ll let your child go.”

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This is my third year as a professional organizer, and today I received an anonymous order. When I arrived at the client’s home, the entire apartment was strewn with sex toys. The girl looked at me, embarrassed. “Sorry you had to see this. My boyfriend is just so clingy.” I smiled, reassuring her. “I get it. You two are clearly very passionate. It means you have a great relationship.” To my surprise, she brightened up. “You don’t know the half of it. My boyfriend just can’t keep his hands off me once he sees me.” “Last time, we were right in the middle of dinner, and he just had to grab me for a quickie.” “And he still wasn’t satisfied afterward. He didn’t stop all night. My legs felt like jelly when I went to work the next day.” “I told him I couldn’t take it anymore, but he insisted it was ‘a sign of his love’.” I looked at the signs of their passionate encounter all over the room, then thought of my fiancé, Ethan, who hadn’t touched me in three years. I shook my head, ready to start working. Just then, the client’s phone rang. She blushed, looking at me. “See? He wants me again.” The caller ID clearly displayed “Ethan Vance.” But wasn’t that my sexually unresponsive fiancé? …

Chloe turned, slipped into the room, and picked up the call. “Ethan, you miss me that much?” “Then come over today, please?” The male voice was silent for a moment, then agreed. “But no staying overnight, okay?” “I’ll make it up to you next time.” I froze, mechanically putting on my mask and gloves. A voice in my head screamed, desperately telling me it was just a coincidence, just a similar name and voice… I pulled out my phone and opened my chat with Ethan Vance. The last message was him wishing me a happy birthday. I quickly typed a few words: [What time do you get off work today?] Then, I turned off my screen and started working. Chloe’s coy, flirty voice from her call kept drifting into my ears, but I pretended not to hear it. Usually, time flies when I’m working, but today, seconds felt like hours. By dinnertime, the living room was already tidy. I adjusted my expression. “Ms. Miller, your order was for two days. I’ll come back tomorrow to organize the bedroom.” Chloe saw the spotless living room and grabbed my hand, her eyes sparkling. “Wow, thank you!” “Hehe, my boyfriend is coming over soon, and he’ll be so happy to see the place clean.” “Though tonight, he’s going to have me pinned down again…” I forced an unnatural smile and left the apartment. Pulling out my phone, I saw Ethan had only replied to my message five minutes ago. [Overtime at the office today. Can’t have dinner together. I’ll be back late.] Overtime again… He started his own law firm six months ago and often didn’t come home until midnight. But I never worried, after all, Ethan was sexually unresponsive. He would even vomit uncontrollably if he was intimate with a woman. I gripped my phone tightly, letting out a long breath, trying to calm the bitter wave rising in my chest. Just then, Ethan’s second message came through: [Honey, happy birthday. I know organizing involves a lot of bending over, so I specially ordered you a massage chair. It’s already been delivered home. Sorry I can’t be with you tonight. Once this busy period is over, I’ll make it up to you properly.] Seeing the words “make it up to you,” my eyes welled up. Ethan was always so thoughtful. For three years, no matter how busy he was, he always kept my well-being in mind. How could a man like that be the same man who was flirting with another woman on the phone just now? I must be too tired lately, my nerves are shot, I misheard. That night, I returned home to find a huge massage chair sitting quietly in the living room. I lay down, feeling the relief on my back, and that little flicker of doubt in my heart vanished. I habitually opened Instagram, just scrolling casually before bed. Suddenly, a newly posted update popped into my view. It was from today’s client, Chloe Miller. It was an intimate photo, not showing faces, just a man and woman intertwined in dim light. The caption read: [He said this was his way of making it up to me.] My breathing instantly hitched. In the photo, the man was tightly embracing the girl’s waist, and on the back of his hand, gripping the bedsheet, there was a dark brown scar. That scar, I would never mistake it in this lifetime. Three years ago, after my night shift, I was dragged and sexually assaulted by several strangers. It was Ethan Vance, passing by, who fought desperately to save me. That scar was left when he took a blow for me then. Later, I suffered from severe depression and wanted to die. He, as my lawyer, stood by me to win the case, sending the bad guys to prison, and pulling me out of the abyss. It was natural for us to become a couple. But for these three years, every time things got intimate, right at the last step, Ethan would suddenly rush into the bathroom and vomit violently. He’d apologize to me with a pale face, saying he had a psychological barrier. Because I felt for him, and because I was grateful to him, I never doubted him for a second. I even thought a sexless marriage for life was fine. But now, this man was sweating it out on another woman’s bed. I trembled all over, my stomach churning. With trembling hands, I screenshotted the post and sent it to Ethan, exactly as it was. My fingers stiffly typed a few words: [When you’re with her, don’t you feel like throwing up?]

Less than a minute after I sent the message, Ethan’s FaceTime call came through. I took a deep breath and pressed the answer button. On the screen, Ethan wore a neat shirt, gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. The background was clearly his law firm office. “Anya, what’s with that bizarre screenshot you sent?” He frowned slightly, a hint of helplessness in his voice. “I’ve been at the firm all night reviewing case files, I haven’t even had dinner. Are you overworked lately, starting to overthink again?” He turned the camera around. Files were piled on his desk; he was indeed alone. Seeing the bloodshot eyes, my tense nerves suddenly relaxed, and a wave of immense guilt washed over me. “I’m sorry, Ethan. I just… the scar on that person’s hand looked so much like yours.” “Silly,” he smiled gently. “All scars pretty much look the same. Get some sleep. I’ll be home soon.” In the middle of the night, there was a faint sound from the front door. Ethan hugged me from behind, whispering in my ear. “Anya, happy birthday.” “Honey, I missed you so much.” An indescribable impulse surged through me. I turned and climbed onto him, actively kissing his lips. Ethan stiffened for a moment but quickly responded with fervor. We kissed and caressed in the darkness; everything was going incredibly smoothly. Just as I thought we could finally overcome that obstacle, Ethan suddenly pushed me away as if electrified. He stumbled into the bathroom, and immediately, heart-wrenching sounds of vomiting echoed from inside. I lay stiffly on the bed, his warmth still lingering on my body, but tears silently soaked into my pillow. Immense feelings of hurt and humiliation enveloped me. Sure enough, it still wasn’t possible. I wouldn’t force him anymore… The next day, I composed myself and, as agreed, returned to Chloe Miller’s apartment to finish the remaining work. Chloe was in exceptionally good spirits today, wearing a sexy slip dress and chatting with me. “Yesterday was quite a scare, but we got away with it. My boyfriend’s shrew of a fiancée almost found us!” My hands, folding clothes, paused. She giggled and continued to boast. “But my boyfriend is so smart. To placate that stupid woman, he just took me right there to his office!” “You wouldn’t believe how thrilling it was on the office desk. While he was on a FaceTime call with his fiancée, I was ‘helping’ him under the desk.” My mind went blank. I quickly pulled out my phone and opened the screenshot of my FaceTime call with Ethan last night. I zoomed in on the image, then zoomed in more. Finally, in the shadow at the bottom right corner of Ethan’s desk, I saw a scrap of pink lace dress. Exactly like the one Chloe was wearing right now! “Oh, what are you looking at?” Chloe leaned closer, her gaze falling on my phone screen. She first froze, then the innocent look on her face instantly faded. She scrutinized me from head to toe, then covered her mouth as if suddenly realizing. “Oh, so you’re the fiancée who got raped, huh?” “What was your name again? Anya Hayes, right?” My body went cold. I stared fixedly at her. Chloe curled her lips and decided to just lay it all out. “Do you really think that hero-saving-the-damsel-in-distress act three years ago was destined by fate?” My heart clenched. “What do you mean?”

“Use your brain. That alley didn’t even have streetlights. How could Ethan just coincidentally be passing by there in the middle of the night?” Chloe giggled. “Those strangers? Ethan actually paid them to put on a show for you, just so you’d be completely devoted to him!” “What are you saying…” I felt like I’d been plunged into an ice bath. Three years ago, I was about to confess my feelings to my crush from college, whom I’d liked for years. On the way, Ethan Vance blocked my path, holding a large bouquet of roses, and publicly confessed to me. I rejected him without hesitation. “I’m sorry, Ethan. I have someone I like, and I’m going to see him today.” I still remember how Ethan, always so proud, instantly had his face darken when he heard that. At the time, I just thought he was bowing his head in sadness. But I never imagined that it was on that very night I was dragged into that unlit dead-end alley… “Too bad the act went too far, though.” Chloe leaned closer to me. “He didn’t expect those strangers to get carried away by lust and get serious.” “Even though Ethan sent them to prison, he’s been completely disgusted by you inside.” “He told me, every time he sees you, he remembers you being pressed down by those men. He thinks you’re tainted goods, he couldn’t even get it up with you, so how could he possibly touch you?” A loud, heavy slap landed squarely on Chloe Miller’s face. My palm tingled with numbness, and my blood ran cold. “Shut up!” My eyes were red, and my voice was so hoarse it didn’t sound like my own. Chloe, clutching her rapidly reddening and swelling face, shrieked in disbelief. Just then, the apartment door was opened from the outside with a code. Ethan Vance walked in, carrying two takeout bags, and happened to witness the scene. “Ethan!” Chloe’s tears instantly burst forth, and she flung herself into Ethan’s arms. “She hit me! Your fiancée is so mean!” The moment Ethan saw me, a flicker of panic crossed his eyes. But when he saw the slap mark on Chloe’s face, that bit of guilt instantly turned into accusation. “Anya Hayes, what are you doing?!” He pulled Chloe behind him, frowning at me. “What couldn’t you talk about calmly? Why resort to violence? When did you become such a shrew?” “A shrew, me?” I pointed at this disgusting pair, tears of despair streaming down my face. “Ethan Vance, that act you put on three years ago was so convincing!” Hearing me bring up three years ago, Ethan’s face changed, but he quickly forced himself to be calm, sighing. “Since Chloe has already told you, I won’t hide it anymore.” “It was indeed an accident back then, but I also paid the price and got you justice, didn’t I?” He sounded self-righteous. “I just can’t get past it emotionally. Every time I touch you, I feel disgusted. What am I supposed to do?” “But I never thought of abandoning you. Our wedding next month will proceed as planned. I will still take care of you, and I’ll continue to cover your mom’s medical expenses.” “I just need Chloe to take care of my… needs. You can be Mrs. Vance, and we can all just live in peace, right?” Chloe, hiding in his arms, peered out and provocatively raised her eyebrows at me. I looked at this man before me, finding him terrifyingly unfamiliar. So his “heroic” act back then was just a calculation. And his kindness to me for these three years, was it just charity… “Ethan Vance, you disgust me.” I wiped away my tears, my back stiffening. “Cancel the wedding.”

I returned to the apartment we shared, packed my things, and moved back to my mom’s old apartment. Walking in, my mom was sitting on the sofa, wearing her reading glasses, happily cutting out wedding decorations. Seeing me return with my suitcase, she froze. “Anya, what’s wrong? Did you fight with Ethan?” My mom quickly put down her scissors and, taking my hand, tried to comfort me. “You’re getting married soon. Ethan is such a good boy. Back then, when you went through such a terrible thing, if it weren’t for him…” Hearing about that incident, my heart clenched, stinging like needles. After my incident, my mom couldn’t bear the shock and suffered a sudden, severe heart attack, barely surviving after three days and nights in critical condition. Since then, doctors said she absolutely couldn’t endure any more stress. That’s why for these three years, I had always been so compliant with Ethan, humble to my very core. I suppressed my tears and forced a smile. “It’s nothing, Mom. Just some pre-wedding jitters. I’m coming home for a few days.” As soon as I settled in, Ethan’s call came through. “Anya Hayes, are you done with your drama? I’ve provided for you all these years, what more could you want?” I trembled with anger, but he just scoffed and continued. “Don’t forget, Dr. Adams, the lead surgeon for your mom’s heart bypass surgery next week, was arranged through my father’s connections.” “I advise you to face reality, come back, and apologize to Chloe and me. Then we can put this behind us.” “You’re the ones who are wrong, why should I apologize?” I hung up on him abruptly. To prevent my mom from seeing anything amiss, I went out as usual the next day to take organizing jobs. But halfway through work, my phone started ringing wildly. It was an emergency call from the hospital. “Is this Ms. Anya Hayes? Your mother suddenly collapsed from a heart attack and is currently in critical condition. Please come immediately!” I rushed to the hospital like crazy. As soon as I burst through the emergency room doors, I saw Chloe Miller. She was sitting on a bench in the hallway, admiring her freshly done nails. When she saw me, she smiled smugly. “You’re too late.” “I specially went to visit your mom on Ethan’s behalf, and casually told her that Ethan had arranged for you to be assaulted back then, and now he despises you, thinks you’re tainted goods, and doesn’t want you anymore.” After hearing that, I completely lost my mind. Screaming, I lunged forward, grabbed her hair, dragged her fiercely to the ground, and like a maniac, strangled her neck. “Stop it!” A strong force suddenly pushed me away. Ethan Vance had arrived at some point. He kicked me to the ground and tenderly picked up Chloe from the ground, holding her in his arms. My forehead hit hard against the iron corner of the bench, and blood instantly streamed into my eyes. At that moment, the emergency room door opened. Dr. Adams walked out anxiously. “The patient’s condition is very critical. She needs open-heart surgery immediately, or she won’t last five minutes!” I scrambled up, wanting to beg Dr. Adams to save my mom no matter what, but Ethan blocked me. He looked down at me. “You want the surgery? Fine.” “Now, get on your knees and beg Chloe for forgiveness.” I bit my lip hard, my mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood. My mom, my only relative, lay in the emergency room. I smiled miserably, my legs buckled, and I knelt with a thud before Chloe Miller. “I’m sorry.” I raised my hand, slapping myself repeatedly across the face. “I was wrong. Please, save my mom.” My face stung, but my heart was already numb. Chloe snuggled into Ethan’s arms, curling her lips in satisfaction. Only then did Ethan snort coldly and nod to Dr. Adams. I slumped down outside the cold emergency room, praying for a miracle. After what felt like an eternity, the doctors slowly wheeled a gurney out. I scrambled forward on my hands and knees but stopped stiffly. On the gurney, there was only a stark white sheet, quietly covering my mom’s face.

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After five years together, on the day of my wedding dress fitting, my fiancé, Liam, abandoned me alone at the bridal shop. He had to rush my sister Ashley’s pet cat, which had a mild case of diarrhea, to the emergency vet. Over the phone, his voice was filled with impatience. “Chloe, can you stop being so dramatic? Is a cat’s life not more important than you trying on some dress?” “Fine, then the wedding is off.” I calmly took off the custom-made wedding dress, worth three hundred thousand dollars. He was convinced I was just throwing a tantrum. After all, everyone knew I loved him without an ounce of dignity. He thought that in less than three days, I would come crawling back to him, begging him to reconcile, just like before. But he didn’t know I had just landed an offer from a multinational investment bank, with an annual salary of three million, and was about to leave. As for him? Whoever wants him, can have him. After all, love that comes too late is worthless. And my life, it was just beginning.

“Just because I didn’t go with you to try on wedding dresses and went to take care of Ashley’s cat instead, you want to call off our wedding?” On the other end of the phone, Liam’s voice dripped with condescending mockery. “Chloe, are you out of your mind? Is that all it takes?” “Yes, that’s all it takes.” I looked at myself in the mirror, dressed in the pure white wedding gown, my eyes devoid of any emotion. “I’m breaking off the engagement with you. We’re done.” Liam scoffed into the phone. In the background, I could hear my sister Ashley’s overly sweet, affected voice trying to soothe him. “This is the eighth time you’ve threatened to break up with me this year. Chloe, you’re an adult. Stop playing these dramatic games. I’m exhausted.” “I’m absolutely certain I want to break up. Do you understand?” I had never felt this clear-headed in my entire life. Liam gritted his teeth, his voice cold and hard: “Fine, you’ve got nerve. If you dare walk out of that bridal shop today, even if you get down on your knees and beg me later, I won’t spare you another glance. Don’t you dare regret this!” The call was abruptly disconnected. I took a deep breath, called the sales assistant, and unzipped the back of the dress without hesitation. The wedding dress was heavy. The moment I took it off, I felt the five-year-old boulder that had been weighing on my heart shatter on the floor with it. Just as I changed back into my regular clothes and was about to push the door open to leave, my phone screen lit up. It was a photo from Ashley. In the picture, Liam was bending down, carefully feeding goat milk to a Ragdoll cat, his profile so tender it could melt. Below it was a caption: “Piglet is throwing another tantrum? Oh my, I’m so jealous you have so much free time to get emotional every day. Liam is just too kind; he can’t bear to ignore even a cat. Sis, don’t be mad at him, okay?” “Piglet.” Seeing that nickname, my stomach lurched, and a wave of disgust shot straight to my head. My name is Chloe. When I was little, I was chubby from a medical condition. Ashley had always rallied all the kids at school to call me “Piglet,” and once even pushed me into a mud pit, saying pigs belonged in the mud. Ashley calling me that was one thing, but I had explicitly told Liam thousands of times that I hated that nickname, that it was a lifelong childhood trauma. Yet, just two days ago, Liam, in front of his shady friends, chuckled and patted my head, saying, “My Piglet just has a big temper.” I froze on the spot, but he blamed me for not being able to take a joke. Now, Ashley was using that condescending tone to sicken me again. I didn’t send a long message arguing with her like before, nor did I hysterically call Liam to confront him. I simply saved the screenshot, closed the chat, and muted both of them. Stepping out of the bridal shop, the sun was blinding. I hailed an Uber. “To the airport, please.” To hell with love, to hell with family. I was done playing along.

“Are you crazy? You actually broke up? Even returned the wedding dress?” My best friend, Sophia, sat across from me, so shocked she spilled her coffee. I calmly stirred the ice in my cup. “We broke up. This time, it’s for real.” “No way…” Sophia swallowed, looking at me like I was an alien. “Chloe, don’t get mad at me for being blunt, but breaking up just like that? That’s not like you at all. You used to be completely obsessed with him.” “That was then, this is now. I find him disgusting.” I took a sip of my iced Americano. The bitter taste spread through my throat, yet it cleared my head completely. Sophia sighed, reaching out to cover my hand. “If it’s over, it’s over. You should’ve dumped that jerk ages ago. But the question is, can you really let him go?” *Can you really let him go?* I had asked myself that same question countless tear-filled nights in the past. Could I really let go of Liam? Five years ago, I was a chubby girl, bloated from long-term hormone medication, and insecure to my core. That day, I was working part-time at a convenience store when a wealthy woman in designer clothes insisted I had stolen her diamond ring, which she claimed had fallen on the counter. She pointed her finger at me, cursing: “It was you, you fat pig! Look at your pathetic self, probably never seen anything this expensive in your life, have you? Hand it over, or I’m calling the cops!” I was speechless, sweating nervously, surrounded by onlookers who were all pointing fingers at me. “It wasn’t me, I really didn’t take it, the surveillance camera is broken, but I really didn’t take it…” I was so anxious I started crying, but no one believed me. Just as the woman raised her hand to slap my face, a hand with distinct knuckles firmly gripped her wrist. I opened my eyes and saw Liam, dressed in a white shirt. He stood in front of me, his voice clear and firm: “Ma’am, although the surveillance camera is broken, I was standing behind the shelves the whole time. I saw with my own eyes your ring fall into a pocket in your own handbag. If you continue to be unreasonable, I will report you for slander.” The woman froze, rummaged through her bag, and indeed found the ring. She eventually slunk away. As the crowd dispersed, I nervously clutched the hem of my shirt, unable to utter a complete thank you. He turned to me, smiled, his eyes sparkling. He gently said, “Don’t be scared. If you didn’t do it, no one can wrongly accuse you.” In that moment, Liam became the only light in my otherwise bleak life. Later, I desperately worked to lose weight, desperately tried to be good to him. I thought I had found a lifeline, that I, someone who had been unlucky for over twenty years, finally deserved a little bit of love. The day I confessed my feelings, Liam’s eyes welled up. He pulled me into a hug. “Chloe, you don’t need to change anything for me. You’re adorable when you’re plump, and beautiful when you’re thin. As long as it’s you, I love you.” I remembered those words for five years. I thought it was a mutual salvation. Until Ashley returned home, until she, as my “sister,” forcefully wedged herself into our lives. That’s when I realized Liam’s tenderness was never exclusive to me. He could shine his light on me, but he could just as generously cast it upon Ashley. And I? I was just a cheap prop he used to feel good about himself and showcase his kindness.

Ashley first contacted Liam using the excuse that her “computer was broken.” “Chloe, I heard your boyfriend works in IT. Can you send me his SnapChat? My computer crashed, and I urgently need to work on some files.” My sister and I had been at odds since childhood, so her sudden friendliness took me by surprise. I foolishly sent her Liam’s contact. For the next two weeks, Ashley didn’t contact me again, and I assumed the computer was fixed and the matter was over. Until one day, the three of us accidentally met out and went to dinner. While ordering, I was about to choose a mango pastry when Liam suddenly pressed my hand, blurting out, “Don’t order that. Ashley is allergic to mangoes.” My whole body froze, a buzzing sound in my head. I had never told Liam that Ashley was allergic to mangoes. I turned to Ashley, who was covering her mouth, giggling, “Oh my, Liam has such a good memory. I just casually mentioned it when we were chatting the night before last, and you actually remembered.” The night before last? Chatting? I looked at Liam, feeling a chill run through me. So, without my knowledge, they had become close enough to chat late at night. On the way home that day, I lost my temper with Liam for the first time. “Why were you secretly contacting my sister behind my back?” Liam, however, looked innocent, even a little impatient: “Chloe, do you have some kind of paranoia? She’s your own sister! She just got back to the country; she doesn’t know a lot of things. What’s wrong with her asking me? Aren’t I taking care of your sister to make a good impression on your family, for our future?” “But you crossed a line!” I yelled, my eyes red. “Crossed a line? I just helped her fix her computer and chatted casually for a bit. How is that crossing a line? Piglet, can you stop being so sensitive? Are you serious about making such a fuss over something so trivial?” *Piglet.* He called me Piglet again. I instantly felt all my strength drain away. I thought that by showing him my scabbed wound, he would be sympathetic, but instead, he unhesitatingly rubbed salt in it. From then on, Ashley seemed to have a get-out-of-jail-free card, becoming more and more brazen. I’d ask Liam to pick up a package for me on his way home from work, and he’d put it off for three days, saying he was too tired. But if Ashley wanted late-night street tacos from across town, he’d immediately put on his jacket and drive halfway across the city to get them. For Valentine’s Day, he gave me a wilting, discounted bouquet of roses. For Ashley’s birthday, however, he spent half a month’s salary to pick out a limited-edition necklace for her at a boutique. I argued, I cried, I even confronted my parents. But what did they say? “Ashley is your sister! What’s wrong with Liam helping her out? You’re not even married yet, and you’re already controlling your man so tightly. With your petty and small-minded personality, who would ever want you in the future?” “Ashley has always been more outstanding and sensible than you! Her testing your boyfriend for you is for your own good! Don’t be ungrateful!” Everyone stood on their moral high ground, accusing me. Everyone thought I was making a mountain out of a molehill, that I was an irrational lunatic. Over time, I even started to doubt myself: Was I really too narrow-minded? Did I really have a mental illness? I fell into a deep cycle of self-destruction, checking his phone like a maniac every day, looking for clues, only to be harshly shamed by him using the excuse of “family loyalty.” What truly made me give up completely, what made me finally tear that cancerous growth from my heart, was the day I had surgery last month.

Last month, I had stomach pain for over two weeks straight, and medication wasn’t helping. The doctor recommended I undergo minimally invasive stomach surgery immediately to remove a suspicious polyp. I was terrified. I told Liam a week in advance, hoping he could accompany me to the hospital that day. He was staring at his phone screen, not even looking up when he said, “I have a big project at work next week; I really can’t get away. It’s just minor surgery. Go by yourself, don’t be so delicate.” Suppressing my heartache, I signed the surgical consent form myself and lay alone on the cold operating table. After the anesthesia wore off, I was in so much pain I was covered in cold sweat, unable even to pour myself a glass of water. Weakly, I pulled out my phone, wanting to call Liam and hear his voice. The call connected; the background was a bit noisy. “Hello, Liam, are you done with work? I’m in so much pain…” My voice was trembling. “I’m with a client right now. It’s really loud here, so I can’t talk. Just drink some water and take it easy.” He spoke quickly, hanging up the phone in less than ten seconds. I stared at the black screen, tears silently streaming down my face. Just then, I wanted to get some hot water from the dispenser at the end of the hallway. I leaned against the wall, painstakingly moving one step at a time. As I reached the corner, I suddenly froze. Right outside the orthopedic clinic diagonally opposite, my boyfriend, who was supposedly “with a client,” was kneeling on the ground, his face full of concern, massaging Ashley’s ankle. Ashley, wearing killer heels, leaned delicately against a chair. “It’s all your fault, insisting on taking me to that walking street. My feet are all blistered.” Liam carefully applied a bandage, his tone unusually gentle: “My fault, my fault. I’ll carry you downstairs later, okay?” In that moment, the cold draft in the hospital hallway chilled me to the bone, cutting through my thin patient gown. I didn’t rush up and slap them, nor did I cause a scene like a furious banshee. I just stood there quietly, watching them laughing and chatting as they entered the elevator. Suddenly, I felt so tired. So incredibly tired. For a man who didn’t love me, for a sister who never respected my dignity, I had tormented myself, making myself out to be a pathetic fool. A “knight in shining armor” doesn’t just turn into a villain; the signs were always there. He wasn’t clueless about boundaries; he just didn’t care about my feelings. Whether he was trying to curry favor with my family under the guise of “taking care of my sister” or using the “sister” excuse to flirt with Ashley, I no longer cared to investigate. I, Chloe, never want anything that’s tainted. I leaned against the wall, slowly walking back to my room, pulling the covers over my head, and sleeping a surprisingly peaceful sleep. From that day on, I stopped arguing with him, stopped checking his phone, and stopped getting angry over Ashley’s provocations. Liam still thought I had finally “grown up” and learned to be “generous.” He didn’t know that when a woman stops arguing with you, it means she has completely given up on you. I started furiously preparing for the final stage of the CFA (Chartered Financial Analyst) exam, while secretly submitting my resume to several top investment banks in New York. I was never inferior to Ashley growing up. My college entrance exam scores were dozens of points higher than hers, and I won national scholarships every year in university. But my parents were biased, pouring all the family’s resources into the manipulative Ashley, forcefully cutting off my chance to study abroad and pushing me to start working early to support the family. But now, I refused to accept my fate. When my gaze was no longer fixed on Liam and Ashley, that despicable pair, I found my world to be incredibly vast. With my stellar resume and an almost perfect interview performance, I smoothly landed a Senior Associate position at a top-tier investment bank in New York, with an annual salary plus bonuses reaching close to three million. Everything was ready; all that was left was a dignified breakup. Initially, I had intended to calmly explain things to him on the day of the wedding dress fitting. But he just *had* to go take care of Ashley’s cat. So be it. Go live your life with that cat.

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My alpha husband Michael suddenly brought home a she-wolf nanny with a five-year-old child in tow. He said they were a struggling mother-son duo and he wanted to give her a job. But late that night, in the basement, I saw Michael roughly taking that woman, Emma: “Sweetheart, thank you for giving me a child.” Emma shuddered, whimpering softly, “Then when will you finally Mark me?” Five years ago, I nearly burned to death because of Michael’s enemies, losing my ability to become a mother forever. Back then he held me and cried his heart out, saying over and over that it didn’t matter if we had children or not—having me was enough. Turns out it was all lies. I stood in the shadows, a cold smile twisting my lips. A man this filthy? I don’t want him anymore. Victoria POV Michael and I had been married for nine years. We were the power couple everyone admired in our social circle. I was the daughter of the chairman of Vanguard Group, one of the top financial conglomerates. He was the alpha of Silver Crest Pack, one of the most powerful werewolf packs in North America. Though ours was an arranged marriage, our relationship was the envy of everyone. That belief shattered completely the moment I saw Michael holding a five-year-old boy. The reason was simple: that child wasn’t mine. Michael, always so cold and aloof in front of others, was now using the most indulgent tone to coax the child: “Alex, listen to your mother.” My brain buzzed. I couldn’t hear anything anymore. Five years ago, in a fire targeting Michael, I was accidentally burned. Michael slashed open his palm and used his blood to heal my burns. But he couldn’t save my baby. After that, I completely lost the possibility of becoming a mother. I remembered Michael gripping my hand tightly by my hospital bed, eyes red as he swore: “I don’t need children, Victoria. I only need you.” Those vows still seemed to echo in my ears, but the scene before me shattered everything. He was holding a child he had with another woman, tenderly calling his name. I pressed my hand hard over my mouth to keep from crying out, then turned and ran. At the entrance, my friend Jennifer was startled by my ashen face. I grabbed her, my fingertips ice cold, my voice hoarse: “Jennifer, help me investigate Michael. He might have a son.” Only now did I understand. All these years he’d cherished me like a treasure, but it was just sugar-coating a bullet. When I got home, I received a message from Michael: “Three more days on this business trip. Miss me?” The message was followed by a kissing emoji. I stared at the text as tears fell. For the past five years, he went on business trips to Europe every autumn for a month. I’d always thought he was working hard for his career. Now I understood—that month was reserved for his other family. Snow had started falling at some point, covering the oak tree outside the window. I scrolled through the information Jennifer sent me. The woman’s name was Emma, a Delta’s daughter who grew up with Michael. He’d gotten into fights at football games for her, and bought her rare vintage watches at auction. When they were eighteen, they discovered they were fated mates. I’d heard that a werewolf’s fated mate is arranged by the Moon Goddess. For werewolves, it means their soul has found its other half and become complete. But some people try to gain higher positions of power through alliances, agreements, or even forcing arranged marriages on their children. So Michael ultimately didn’t choose Emma. Instead, he chose to marry me through an arranged alliance to gain Vanguard Group’s support. But he didn’t reject her. Instead, he sent her to Europe. They’d secretly built a little family there, hiding it from everyone. My phone rang. Michael’s name flashed on the screen. I bit my lip hard, letting it ring over and over, before finally answering with trembling hands. “Why did it take you so long to pick up?” His voice was warm as always. “Were you being bad again? Not eating properly?” My fingers curled into fists. He used to hold me like this too, laughing softly as he asked: “Not eating properly again? If you get too thin, it’ll break my heart.” I would shake my head: “No.” Then he’d kiss my earlobe, laughing low by my ear: “So disobedient? Victoria, do I need to watch you every second?” I’d thought we’d be like that forever. This was the first time I lied to him, my voice muffled like I was actually sick: “I have a bit of a cold. I was already asleep.” “A cold?” His tone immediately turned anxious. “Is it serious? I’ll fly back right now.” “No need.” I quickly stopped him, my voice carrying a distance I didn’t even notice. “I took medicine. I’ll be fine after some sleep.” I was about to hang up when I heard a woman’s lazy, intimate voice through the phone. “Michael, Alex is asleep, we can…” Michael hurriedly hung up the call. He was with that woman right now. Looking at my silent phone, I couldn’t hold back anymore. I broke down crying. Jennifer rushed into the room and held me with heartache. “Sweetheart, it’s okay. I’m here.”

Victoria POV When I opened my eyes again, the view outside was blindingly white. “Victoria, how are you? Do you feel sick anywhere else?” I heard a familiar voice. Opening my eyes, I saw Jennifer’s worried face. Jennifer sat by the bed, her eyes bloodshot. She must have stayed up all night watching over me. “…I’m fine.” Memories from before I passed out flooded back. I forced myself to sit up. “Sorry for worrying you.” Jennifer nodded, her voice trembling with lingering fear: “You scared me to death yesterday. I was so afraid you’d do something…” Halfway through her sentence, my phone rang. I answered, my voice already calm: “Dad.” “Victoria, why does your voice sound hoarse? Were you up all night again?” “I’m fine, Dad. Isn’t the Zurich branch short-staffed? I’d like to go handle it.” My father paused. “Why do you suddenly want to go to Switzerland?” “I want a change of scenery.” I glanced out the window. “Jennifer’s going back next month too. I want to go with her.” My father was silent for a long time before finally sighing. “Alright. Whatever you want.” I hung up. Jennifer looked at me with concern: “Are you sure about this?” I nodded. The lawyer sent the drafted divorce agreement to my email. I stared at the screen. Every word hurt to look at. I hadn’t figured out how to bring it up to Michael yet. We were entangled in too much—decades of friendship between our two families, extensive business dealings. As I left Jennifer’s apartment and got in my car, I saw a familiar figure. Michael. What was he doing here? He wasn’t supposed to be back for three more days. The man wore a well-tailored custom suit, his figure tall and lean, though his eyes showed fatigue. He walked over quickly and pulled open the car door. “You sounded off on the phone. I was worried, so I flew back overnight.” He pulled me into his embrace. This embrace once made me feel so safe. Now it only made me tremble uncontrollably. My head was full of Emma’s voice and images of that child calling him “Dad.” I clenched my hands, forcing myself not to push him away. He used to hold me like this too, laughing softly as he asked: “What are you overthinking now? Hmm?” I’d shake my head: “Nothing.” Then he’d hold me tighter, laughing low by my ear: “Little liar. You’re not allowed to leave me. Wherever you go, I’ll find you. Understand?” I used to think I could never escape. But this time, I was the one choosing to leave. “You seem thinner.” He stroked my cheek with his thumb, his eyes full of concern. “When I’m not home, you don’t eat properly again, do you?” I couldn’t understand how he could say these things so calmly to me when just the night before he’d been with his “true love” he was supposedly forced to leave. I didn’t want to explain. I just shook my head: “No, I’m just a bit tired.” I saw he wanted to say something more, but from the corner of my eye I caught sight of a slender figure standing not far away. Emma. She wore a white dress, her long hair flowing over her shoulders, looking pitiful and delicate. Almost simultaneously, Michael’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen. So did I. The caller ID showed Emma. Michael’s expression became conflicted. He quickly hung up the call and kissed my forehead apologetically. “There’s something urgent at the pack. I have to go. Be good and wait for me at home. Tonight I’ll take you to that Italian restaurant you love.” With that, he hurried to his car. After his car drove away, Emma walked over to me in her high heels. “Miss Victoria.” She smiled as she introduced herself, her gaze full of assessment and provocation. She wouldn’t even call me Luna or Mrs. Whatever. When Emma saw me, she knew I’d figured everything out. Her smile deepened. “I see Miss Victoria already knows about Alex and me.” She paused, unable to hide her smugness. “Miss Victoria, the Luna position will only ever be mine.”

Victoria POV I took a taxi and followed them to the Silver Crest Pack’s packhouse. Emma’s car had just stopped at the entrance. I paid and walked in after her. Honestly, I rarely came here. I had my own work to handle. And Michael’s company was doing well. Most of Silver Crest Pack’s young wolves chose to work at the company and live in the city. Those who stayed at the pack were mostly Omegas and some young children. Plus some warriors necessary to protect the pack. Michael and I were too busy to touch the ground, so all these people were managed and cared for by the Elder Luna. I followed her to a building that looked like a clinic. Walking in, I saw a boy lying in one of the hospital rooms. It was Alex. His face was pale, his leg covered with some kind of medicinal paste. Michael was yelling at a healer. “Why did he suddenly run to the forest and step in a trap? Is this how you watch him?!” I recognized the healer too. He was the one who healed my burns. “Michael, calm down! His injury is fine.” He tried to reason with him. “Besides, what’s the point of yelling at me?!” I hid behind the wall, my heart growing colder the more I listened. “I told you from the start—if you only want a child, you shouldn’t have kept Emma around! And now? The kid runs out looking for her every time she leaves, and you don’t have the heart to be firm. What kind of situation is this?” “Victoria is my Luna, but the pack can’t be without an heir.” Michael’s voice was weary. “Besides, Emma is my fated mate. My wolf can’t lose her.” So this was the whole truth. He couldn’t lose my business support, and he didn’t want to reject his fated mate. Perhaps that would mean losing something. I knew that when werewolves Mark their fated mates, they become stronger. So conversely, maybe rejecting one’s fated mate would weaken him? Just then, the hospital room door opened. Emma walked in carrying a cup of water, her eyes red. The moment she saw the child in the bed, tears fell. “It’s all my fault… it’s all my fault for not taking good care of Alex…” She cried with her shoulders shaking, looking especially pitiful. Michael softened. He stepped forward and pulled her into his arms, comforting her gently: “It’s not your fault. Alex is our child. I’ll heal him.” Those five words—”our child”—hit my heart like a sledgehammer. Emma leaned against him, sobbing: “Michael, I know I shouldn’t expect anything. As long as I can stay with Alex while he grows up, I’ll be content…” Michael was moved by her words. He lifted his hand and wiped away her tears with his thumb. The gesture was intimately painful to watch. I clenched my palms, nails digging into my flesh, but I felt no pain. The pain in my heart had already overwhelmed everything else. I turned and left, my footsteps numb. Outside, it had started snowing again at some point. Snowflakes landed on my face and melted, ice cold. I couldn’t tell if it was snow or tears. I returned to the company soaking wet. The receptionist stood up in alarm when she saw my disheveled state. “Miss Victoria, what happened? Should I call Mr. Michael? He’ll be heartbroken seeing you like this.” To others, this would sound perfectly normal. To me, it was the ultimate irony. Heartbroken? He was heartbroken over another woman right now. I didn’t say anything. I walked straight into the conference room and locked the door. I leaned against the door, my body slowly sliding down. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I buried my face in my knees and cried out loud. I thought I’d already gone numb, but seeing that family of three with my own eyes, I completely broke down anyway. Nine years of feelings, all those moments of life and death together… none of it was his true heart. He didn’t want to lose anything, so he kept two women on the side. I don’t know how long I cried. Only after my tears ran dry did I support myself against the wall and stand up. I walked into the restroom in the break room. Looking at myself in the mirror—eyes swollen red, face deathly pale—I suddenly laughed. What was the point of crying? I changed into a spare business suit and transformed back into that lofty business elite. The dozens of messages and missed calls from Michael on my phone—I didn’t even look at them. In the evening, I dragged my exhausted body back to that gorgeous manor villa. I’d already decided. Tonight I would pack my things and leave. But when I pushed open the door, I saw Emma and Alex sitting in my living room.

Victoria POV The crystal chandelier in the living room shone brilliantly, but my eyes were ice cold. Emma wore a brand new maid’s uniform. Seeing me, she immediately stood up and bowed respectfully: “You’re home.” And that boy named Alex was taking a limited edition model car and smashing it on the floor. It was from my favorite collection series. I’d put in so much effort to complete the set. “What is going on here?” My voice was cold as ice. Michael hurried down from upstairs, forcing an unnatural smile: “Victoria, you’re back. This is… a nanny Mother sent over. She said we’re too busy and need someone to take care of us.” He pointed at Alex, telling a clumsy lie. “This child’s… father passed away. It’s been very hard for them…” I was shaking with anger. “His father passed away? Michael, do you think I’m an idiot?” I pointed at the child who looked almost exactly like him, my voice trembling. “Do you think it’s fun to carve out my heart piece by piece like this?” Seeing I was truly angry, Michael panicked and grabbed my hand. “Victoria, don’t be angry,” he said urgently, making his position clear. “If you don’t like it, I’ll have someone take him away immediately!” His false show of love only made me sick. “Waaah—” Alex seemed frightened and suddenly burst into tears, pointing at me and screaming: “Bad lady! You’re bullying my mom!” “Alex!” Michael scolded sharply. Emma immediately rushed over and held her son, saying to Michael with red eyes: “Alpha, please don’t blame him. He’s just… just shy around strangers.” Michael’s tone softened as expected. Watching this painfully glaring scene, I felt cold all over. I shook off Michael’s hand forcefully and walked upstairs without a word. The bedroom door slammed shut, cutting everything off. Michael stood outside the door for a while, murmuring a few soothing words. Hearing no response, he turned and left. Soon after, my phone received a message. It was from Emma: [Miss Victoria, if you keep Michael locked outside, don’t blame him for coming to me for comfort.] I deleted the message and got up to leave the bedroom. The villa was very quiet. Somehow I ended up at the door to the basement wine cellar. The door was ajar, warm yellow light spilling out. I walked closer and clearly heard a woman’s panting and a man’s muffled groans from inside. “Michael… slower… it hurts…” “Isn’t this what you wanted? Afraid of pain but you still dared to seduce me here?” Michael’s voice was husky, tinged with impatience, but his movements didn’t stop. “I’m warning you, Emma, don’t provoke Victoria anymore, or else…” The woman’s moans drowned out the rest of his words. I stood frozen in place, my whole body ice cold. By dawn I was lying back in bed, staring at the ceiling with empty eyes. Nine years of passionate love, his grand pursuit of me. All of it shattered in this moment. This time, I was the one who didn’t want him anymore.

Victoria POV The next morning when I came downstairs, Emma had already taken off that offensive maid’s uniform. She’d changed into a water-green silk dress that outlined her shapely figure perfectly. Only then did I realize Emma’s features were somewhat similar to mine. No wonder. No wonder Michael chose her. Or rather, no wonder he chose to marry me through an arranged alliance. “You’re up? Come have breakfast.” Emma greeted me warmly, like she was the lady of the house. As she spoke, she deliberately turned to the side, revealing the scattered red marks on her neck—intimate and glaring. But what really made my pupils contract was the brooch pinned to her chest. A vintage brooch set with a pigeon blood ruby, dazzling and brilliant. I recognized it. That was the pack’s heirloom, passed down only to the Luna. I remembered that years ago, Michael had asked his mother for this brooch for me, but his mother coldly refused, using my inability to have children as the reason. “A human woman who can’t even bear children—does she deserve to be called the pack’s Luna?” The Elder Luna’s harsh words still echoed in my ears. And now, this brooch symbolizing status and recognition was brazenly worn by a mistress. In this moment, I completely understood. How laughable was my earlier thought of maintaining the decades of goodwill between our families, not wanting to make things too ugly. It turned out that in the eyes of the Elder Luna and even the entire pack, Emma—the woman who could bear an heir—had long been recognized as their Luna. And I was just a clown kept in the dark, occupying a position I wouldn’t give up. A human they never respected but had no choice but to curry favor with. Michael came downstairs wearing a casual loungewear set. He first exchanged a knowing look with Emma, then quickly walked over to me, reaching out to feel my forehead, looking worried. “Why are you so pale? Did you catch cold last night? Don’t go to the company today. I’ll stay home with you.” Watching his masterful performance, I only felt my stomach churning. Every second I stayed with him made me feel suffocated. I found him dirty. “No need.” I coldly pushed away his hand. “I have a lot to handle at the company.” Just then, Emma came over with a cup of coffee, saying softly: “Michael, your coffee.” She naturally reached out to straighten his slightly messy collar. And Michael actually lowered his head instinctively, cooperating with her movements. It was an incredibly familiar, habitual gesture. More hurtful than any deliberate showing off. The servants around us gasped. Michael seemed to realize something was wrong and immediately stepped back, creating distance from Emma. He picked up his coat, walked to my side, and pressed a light kiss to my forehead. “Wait for me to come home.” He used the exact same indulgent tone he’d used in the wine cellar last night when speaking to another woman.

Victoria POV After Michael left, I calmly finished breakfast. I didn’t look at Emma again. I went straight upstairs and started packing. Those things Michael had given me, filling the entire walk-in closet—I packed them one by one and called my assistant to have them all sent to auction. “Donate the proceeds to charity in my name.” If I was going to make a clean break, I’d do it thoroughly. “Is Miss Victoria planning to run away from home?” Emma appeared behind me at some point, leaning against the doorframe with a smug smile. “Makes sense. A woman who can’t have children, occupying the position beside Michael all these years—it’s time to step aside.” Her words struck precisely at the most painful places in my heart. If this were before, I might have gotten angry, might have lost control. But now, I just looked at her calmly. “The Luna position? If you like it so much, take it.” I pulled out the divorce agreement I’d already signed from my bag and handed it to Emma. “Here.” Emma’s smile froze. She looked at the document in shock. Then she looked at me and told me something I never knew. “Do you know? In the werewolf world, only a formal mate ceremony is recognized by the Moon Goddess as a true mating. But human marriage…” She waved the document in her hand. “We’ve never recognized it.” So this was the fundamental reason those werewolves didn’t recognize me as Luna. In their eyes, their alpha had never truly chosen me. But I laughed, looking down at her with a hint of amusement in my tone. “But I and my business partners all recognize this arranged marriage. However, since you think I’m unimportant, then have Michael sign this agreement.” I was like a queen bestowing grace upon a jumping clown. “If you don’t have that ability, even if you shout a million times that you’re the one he chose, you’ll only ever be a mistress who can’t see the light of day! You can throw your weight around in your pack all you want, but you have no place in this city.” Emma’s expression changed several times before she finally snatched the divorce agreement, her eyes flashing with greed and wild joy. Though she was suspicious of how readily I was letting go, she believed more that I was just being stubborn. How could a woman who’d been pampered by Michael for so many years really be willing to let go? Watching Emma hurry away with the document, a hint of mockery flashed in my eyes. After packing the last piece of luggage, I sat in the living room quietly waiting for Jennifer to pick me up. My gaze swept over the empty living room, and I suddenly realized I hadn’t seen Alex, that child, from morning until now. An inexplicable doubt rose in my heart. Just then, the villa’s door was violently pushed open from outside. Michael rushed in frantically, followed by the Elder Luna with an ashen face, and… Emma crying piteously. “Victoria!” Emma rushed at me like a madwoman and shoved me hard toward the table edge. “Where did you hide my Alex?! What did you do to him?!” I was hit so hard my vision went black, and a sharp pain shot through my elbow. I steadied myself and looked coldly at the crazed woman before me: “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “You still dare to lie!” Emma suddenly grabbed a fruit knife from the fruit bowl, the sharp tip pointed straight at my throat. “You can’t even tolerate an innocent child?! Victoria, how can your heart be so vicious!”

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