I was the daughter my parents prayed for after three years of bitter medicinal treatments. They once treasured me like a precious jewel. When I casually mentioned wanting to see the ocean, Dad immediately bought plane tickets and flew me to the coast. Mom hand-sewed princess dresses for me, saying I was heaven’s greatest gift to her. Later, Mom unexpectedly gave birth to my little brother. She kissed my forehead and said love wouldn’t diminish—it would only grow, with one more person to protect me. But my brother had severe asthma. He couldn’t tolerate even the slightest irritating smell. That day, I saw my brother sleeping restlessly, so I lit the aromatherapy candle Mom usually used to help her relax. When Mom smelled the fragrance, her eyes filled with rage. She slapped me so hard I fell to the ground, then grabbed my hair and screamed, “Your brother can’t breathe smoke! Are you trying to kill him?!” I was dragged into the basement home theater—a room that had just been soundproofed but didn’t have a ventilation system installed yet. The heavy soundproof door was locked from the outside. “You’re so vicious! Stay in this absolutely quiet place and think about what you’ve done!” Mom and Dad rushed my brother to the hospital in a panic. They both forgot. Once that expensive professional soundproof door closed, not even a wisp of air could get through. In the extreme oxygen deprivation and darkness, I clawed desperately at the door. As my consciousness faded, I could only think: if I apologize, will they love me again? **1** With a loud BANG, the heavy professional soundproof door of the basement home theater slammed shut. Immediately after, I heard the lock turning from outside. The sound was particularly harsh in the dead-silent basement, like a death sentence being pronounced. “Mom! I was wrong! Please let me out!” “Dad! It’s so dark in here, I’m scared! Please, please open the door…” I ignored my swollen cheek from Mom’s slap and the stinging pain where she’d pulled my hair. I crawled to the door and pounded on the cold metal with all my strength. But this home theater had been specially built for the ultimate viewing experience. All four walls were covered with thick sound-absorbing foam, and even the door seams had the tightest seals. My cries, my desperate pounding—everything was greedily swallowed by the foam. Not a sound escaped to the outside. I was surrounded by absolute darkness and deathly silence. I could even hear my own heart pounding violently from fear—thump, thump, thump—so fast it felt like it would jump out of my throat. “Is anyone there? Help me…” I called out hoarsely, but only silence answered. As time passed, the air in the home theater grew thinner and thinner. Without a ventilation system installed, this place was like a completely sealed can. Each breath felt like inhaling burning flames. My lungs were seared with tearing pain. Sweat rolled down my forehead in large drops, hitting the cold floor. My vision blurred, and my oxygen-starved brain grew dizzy. Just when I was about to collapse, I suddenly felt the children’s smartwatch on my wrist. It was the birthday gift Dad had given me last month. “Anna, if you ever encounter danger, just press this button and Daddy will immediately come protect you.” Dad’s gentle words from back then seemed to echo in my ears. I grabbed onto this last lifeline. With trembling fingers, I pressed the speed dial button for Dad. “Ring… ring…” The dialing tone sounded in the silent room. Each pause made my heart skip a beat. Answer the phone, Dad. Please answer the phone… Finally, the call connected. “Hello?” Dad’s impatient voice came through, with the chaotic sounds of a hospital emergency room and my brother’s weak crying in the background. “Dad… save me… I can’t breathe…” I used every ounce of strength to force these words into the watch microphone. “Anna Johnson! You have the nerve to call?!” Dad’s voice instantly shot up, filled with barely suppressed rage. “Your brother is still being treated! Do you know you almost killed him?!” “I didn’t… I just wanted to help him sleep better… Dad, I feel terrible, there’s no air in the basement…” I begged through tears, which fell in large drops onto the watch screen. “Enough! How long are you going to keep pretending? It’s bad enough you compete for attention at home, but now you’ve learned to lie too! The basement is huge—how could there be no air? You stay in there and think about what you’ve done! No one’s letting you out without your mother’s permission!” “Beep, beep, beep…” The call was mercilessly disconnected. I stared blankly at the darkened watch screen as my last shred of hope died. Why? Why didn’t they believe me? Why didn’t Dad, who used to love me so much, even have the patience to hear me out anymore? Scenes from the past flashed uncontrollably through my mind. When I was five, I ran a high fever in the middle of the night. Dad was so panicked he didn’t even put on shoes—he ran two kilometers through the snow carrying me to the hospital. He sat by my bed, gripping my hand tightly, his eyes red as he said, “Don’t be afraid, Anna. Daddy’s here. Daddy will bear all your pain for you.” When I was six, some kids at preschool bullied me. Mom stormed into the school like an enraged lioness, pointed at the boy’s nose and yelled at him, then held me gently and comforted me: “Anna is Mommy’s most precious little princess. No one can bully you.” But after my brother Asher was born, everything changed. They gave all their love and attention to their sickly little boy. I became superfluous—a “dangerous element” who might hurt my brother at any moment. I just saw my brother coughing and unable to sleep. I remembered how Mom would light that aromatherapy candle whenever she had a headache, saying the scent helped her relax. I thought it would help my brother feel better too. I really never meant to hurt him. I don’t want to die… I really don’t want to die… I threw myself at the door again, desperately clawing at the seams, trying to create a gap for air to get through. My fingernails broke off. Blood ran down the door panel. The pain shot through my fingers and made my whole body shake, but I didn’t dare stop. “Mommy… Daddy… Anna was wrong… Anna won’t make brother angry anymore…” “Please… let me out…” My voice grew weaker and weaker until it became meaningless mumbling. My eyelids felt heavy as lead. I finally couldn’t hold on anymore and slowly slid down the cold door panel to the floor. In the last moment before losing consciousness, I seemed to see a beam of light. Mom pushed open the door and walked toward me, backlit. She crouched down and gently touched my bleeding fingers, her tears dropping onto my cheeks. “Anna, my baby, I’m sorry. Mommy came too late…” I tried so hard to smile, to tell her I forgave her. As long as you can love me like before, I don’t mind suffering a little. But that beam of light gradually dimmed, and Mom’s face became blurry. I fell completely into endless darkness. **2** I seemed to have a very, very long dream. In the dream, there was no suffocating pain, no terrifying darkness—only lightness and freedom. When I “opened” my eyes again, I found myself floating in midair. I looked down at myself. My body was semi-transparent, emitting a faint glow. Am I… dead? This thought had barely crossed my mind when a familiar sound of the door opening interrupted it. Mom and Dad came home from the hospital with my brother. “Mom!” I instinctively called out and tried to throw myself into her arms. But my body passed straight through hers. She couldn’t feel me or hear my voice. Mom carefully placed my sleeping brother on the sofa, covered him with a thin blanket, then let out a long sigh of relief. “Thank God, the doctor said Asher only had a mild asthma attack. If we’d gotten there any later, the consequences would have been unthinkable.” Mom’s voice still trembled with lingering fear. Dad lovingly put his arm around Mom’s shoulders and comforted her. “It’s okay now. Asher has divine protection.” Mom took a deep breath. Her originally gentle eyes instantly became filled with poisonous hatred. She said through gritted teeth, “It’s all that wretched girl Anna’s fault! She’s just jealous that we treat Asher well, so she came up with such a vicious way to hurt him!” “To be so cruel at such a young age—what will she be like when she grows up?! She’s rotten to the core!” Hearing Mom’s words, my heart felt like it was being stabbed with needles. I’m not rotten! I didn’t try to hurt my brother! I just wanted to help him! I floated in front of them, shaking my head desperately and explaining loudly, but they couldn’t hear anything. Dad frowned and sighed. “Come on, she’s still just a kid. Maybe she was confused for a moment. We’ve locked her in the basement for so long—she’s probably scared enough. Go get her and have her apologize to Asher. Then we’ll call it even.” “Apologize? What good is an apology? Who’s going to suffer for what Asher went through?” Mom’s voice shot up like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. She stomped angrily to my first-floor bedroom door and pounded on it hard. “Anna Johnson! Get out here! Don’t think you can avoid responsibility by hiding in there playing dead!” “Your brother almost died because of you! Can’t you even say you’re sorry? Did a dog eat your conscience?!” I floated beside Mom, looking at her face twisted with anger, feeling deeply powerless. Mom, I’m not in my room. I’m in the basement, in that soundproof room you locked with your own hands. I’m already dead. But of course there was no response from the room. Mom’s fury was completely ignited by the silence. She turned around, her eyes searching everywhere in the living room, as if looking for something to vent on. Suddenly, her gaze fell on the exquisite cat bed on the balcony. Inside slept a beautiful Ragdoll cat named Snowball. I’d found her as a stray in the bushes on a rainy day. She was dying then, and I used my allowance to take her to the vet and nursed her back to health until she became this white, plump, adorable cat. Mom used to love Snowball too, saying she looked like a little snowball. But now, Mom’s eyes were filled with disgust. “We have someone with asthma in this house, and we’re still keeping this furry creature! Anna just doesn’t want Asher to be well!” She strode over and grabbed the cat bed, ignoring Snowball’s terrified cries. “Mom! No! Please don’t hurt Snowball!” I desperately rushed over, trying to stop her. But I could only watch helplessly as she opened the balcony window and, without hesitation, threw the cat bed with Snowball inside from the fifteenth floor. “Meow—” Snowball’s piercing shriek cut through the night, then abruptly stopped. I floated in midair, staring into the bottomless darkness outside the window, feeling my very soul trembling. Dad stood in the living room, watching all this, only frowning slightly. “Well, it needed to go anyway. Asher’s allergic to cat fur.” He spoke in a flat tone, as if what had been thrown out was just a piece of worthless trash. “Forget about that girl. Let her go hungry for a couple meals—she’ll realize her mistake.” They turned and went back to the master bedroom, closing the door. The living room returned to dead silence. Only I remained, drifting alone in this home that had once been filled with laughter and joy.

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I had been Mrs. Sterling, living a life of splendor, for thirty years. Our marriage was filled with love, our home bustling with children and grandchildren; I had no regrets. But on my deathbed, my husband gripped my hand and confessed: “Actually, Lucas isn’t your biological son.” “He’s mine and Sophia’s. We swapped the babies back then, and as for our child, yours and mine, he died long ago.” My mind went blank. I stared numbly at the son who was wiping my hands and feet by my side. He didn’t even lift his head, but his cold voice pierced my ears like a knife: “You’re in poor health because I poisoned you.” “I hate you for taking my mother’s place, for preventing our family from being whole.” I grabbed Ethan Sterling’s hand, my blurry, bloodshot eyes wide. “Why… why didn’t you keep lying to me?” “Because Sophia is kind. She said she couldn’t bear to see you die still in the dark.” “Now, you can rest in peace.” His voice was gentle as he closed my eyes. I gagged, coughing up a mouthful of blood, and died in a storm of grief, indignation, and hatred. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I gave birth. The excited voice of the obstetrician reached my ears: “Congratulations, Mrs. Sterling! It’s a boy!”

The air was thick with a foul, humid heat. Soaked in sweat, I gasped for breath, grateful to be alive. In my ears, I could still hear Ethan’s words from before I died in my past life: “Lucas isn’t your biological son, we swapped the babies back then…” Seeing the doctor about to take my baby away, I ignored the searing pain in my body and stumbled off the delivery bed. “Stop! Give me back my baby!” The doctor didn’t stop; she quickened her pace instead. I grabbed an alcohol bottle from the cart and smashed it hard against her head. “I told you to stop!” The doctor collapsed to the ground, clutching her head. I frantically snatched the baby and held him tightly in my arms. The baby’s high-pitched cries tore at my heart. Tears blurred my vision. My hands trembled as I repeatedly stroked the baby’s body. Then, my hands brushed his lower body, and I froze. “It’s a girl. I gave birth to a daughter…” I laughed and cried at the same time, tears streaming down my face. How ridiculous that I was deceived for thirty years in my last life, believing until my death that I had given birth to a son! The doctor picked herself up from the floor, her face full of panic, holding her bleeding forehead: “Mrs. Sterling, you just gave birth, how could you just…” I cut her off with a slap across her face, hitting her with all my strength. “Bitch!” “I clearly gave birth to a daughter, why did you say it was a son and let people be mistaken?” Seeing my rage, a group of nurses exchanged glances, heads bowed, not daring to speak. The doctor quickly slipped out to inform Ethan. Ethan strode in, pointing at me, fuming: “Olivia! The doctor just wanted to show me the baby, what are you doing, acting crazy!” I couldn’t help but sneer, “Ethan, as my husband, and the father of my child, where were you when I was fighting for my life to give birth?” “Now that I’ve just had a baby, you, of all people, start by accusing me!” A look of helplessness flashed across his face. He softened his expression, explaining: “I went to the airport to pick up Sophia.” “She’s only in poor health because she saved me back then, so of course, I have to be attentive to her.” As Ethan spoke, he reached for the baby, but I dodged him. I didn’t spare him a glance: “I need to feed my daughter. You two, please leave.” Ethan’s hand froze in mid-air. His eyes were full of impatience and irritation, and he was about to speak. Suddenly, his phone rang loudly. Sophia’s voice, laced with sobs, came through: “Ethan, my stomach hurts so much, please come be with me!” Ethan immediately turned and left, no longer looking at me. After years of marriage, I had just given birth, and he wouldn’t even offer a word of concern. Holding my baby, my heart felt like it was being twisted by a knife. Memories, like a flood that had broken its dam, surged over me. Sophia was an orphan. She had saved Ethan’s life during a shooting incident overseas and was adopted by my mother-in-law as a foster daughter. I once tried to introduce her to a good man, but Ethan flew into a rage, holding a knife to his own throat to threaten me. “Sophia’s not well, are you trying to force her to marry just to kill her?” “If that’s the case, then I’ll return this life to her!” Because of those words, I let Sophia stay by his side for five years. When my parents passed away, Ethan accompanied Sophia to an art exhibition overseas. Meanwhile, I knelt in the funeral hall, overcome with grief, collapsing and miscarrying. My calls for him to come back went unanswered, one after another, all hung up. All I got was a single reprimand. “Sophia finally agreed to go out. Do you really have to cause a scene now?” And this time, during my pregnancy, Ethan had used the excuse of Sophia going overseas for an exchange program, claiming he needed to personally accompany her, and didn’t return for more than half a year. He used the “debt of a life saved” to silence me for thirty years. In the end, I toiled my entire life, raising another woman’s child, only to pave the way for her happiness. I dialed the number that had been dormant in my phone for years: “Are the words you said back then still true?”

The next day, Ethan came to me holding a baby. “Sophia found this boy when she was volunteering at the orphanage today. He should have been born on the same day as our daughter.” “I feel like it’s fate, so I named him Lucas Sterling and plan to raise him under your name.” I spoke softly, soothing my daughter, and glanced at the baby boy. “Some random kid from who knows where, does he deserve to be raised by me? Send him back to the orphanage.” “Olivia, how can you call Lucas a random kid?” “You’re a mother yourself. How heartbroken would his parents be if they heard that?” Sophia’s eyes welled with tears. She clung weakly to Ethan, feigning fragility, and coughed a few times at just the right moment. Ethan immediately wrapped her in his arms, soothing her, then kicked over a table and roared at me: “Olivia, when did you become so vicious? You can’t even tolerate a child!” I covered my daughter’s ears, casually saying: “If I raise him today, then tomorrow everyone will throw their unwanted pets at me. Am I supposed to raise them all?” Especially since this one was a viper. In my previous life, I devotedly raised and loved him for over twenty years, only to be poisoned to death by him. Sophia’s tears were about to fall. She looked at Ethan despairingly. Ethan immediately took her hand and promised: “The Sterling family is not hers to command. Don’t worry, Sophia, I’ll adopt Lucas and raise him by your side.” I couldn’t be bothered with their little show and went into the room with my daughter. “I need to rest, you two can leave.” Looking at my daughter’s rosy, adorable sleeping face, my heart was full of joy. Just as I was celebrating successfully protecting my daughter in this life, the door was suddenly kicked open. Ethan rushed in, grabbing my neck, his eyes bloodshot as he growled: “Olivia, why did you throw Lucas downstairs?” “He’s just a baby!” I coughed violently, squeezing out broken explanations from my throat: “I, I didn’t…” “Who else but you would harm a newborn baby!” He ignored the fact that I had just given birth and dragged me out by the hand. I couldn’t keep up and fell to the ground. Rough pebbles scraped my calf, leaving a long bloody trail. At the hospital, Sophia was sobbing uncontrollably, tears streaming down her face, holding the unconscious baby. “Olivia, I know you don’t like me, but why would you try to hurt Lucas!” The doctor said anxiously, “This child has a deep cut on his thigh and is losing a lot of blood. The hospital’s blood bank isn’t enough right now… I remember Mrs. Sterling and the child have the same blood type.” Sophia fell to her knees in front of me, tears gushing down her face: “Olivia, please save Lucas, I’ll do anything you want!” Ethan lovingly helped her up, then backhanded me across the face. “Bitch!” A metallic taste spread in my mouth. My postpartum abdomen began to cramp again. I bit my lower lip, my voice barely a whisper: “I didn’t do it, and I won’t admit to something I didn’t do.” Ethan gritted his teeth, kicked my knee, and dragged me in front of the doctor. “Olivia, if you’re unwilling, then we’ll use your daughter’s blood.” He immediately called home: “Mr. Davies, bring the young mistress to the hospital.” All the blood in my body instantly froze. I stared at him in disbelief. There was no tenderness in his sharp eyes, only a ruthless desire to get revenge for Sophia and her son. I scrambled and crawled to my knees in front of the doctor, unhesitatingly rolling up my sleeve to expose my arm. “Don’t touch my daughter, I’ll do it.” I had five bags of blood drawn. When the needle was pulled out, I was close to passing out. A clap of thunder split the sky, and rain poured down. I stumbled out of bed, tried to hail a cab in the street to go home and check on my daughter. But I found my daughter crying uncontrollably, burning with fever. I cried out, calling for an ambulance. But the operator regretfully stated: “I’m sorry, all doctors today have been called to treat the young master of the Sterling family.” “Even the hospital gates have been sealed, and ambulances can’t get out.” Holding my daughter, I ran wildly through the rain. The hospital lobby doors were tightly shut, only the lights were on. I cried as I pounded on the doors, my fingers almost breaking, blood dripping onto the ground, mixing with the rainwater to form a pool of blood.

In the VIP room on the second floor, Ethan watched me from the window. I quickly dialed his number. Before I could speak, I heard Sophia’s sobs: “Olivia is deliberately trying to snatch the doctors away, to keep them from treating my Lucas…” Ethan immediately rushed downstairs, pointing at me and cursing: “Olivia, you would use our daughter to compete for attention, do you even deserve to be a mother!” My hands trembled uncontrollably. I knelt on the ground, clutching Ethan’s pants, sobbing brokenly: “No, it’s not like that… Annie is really sick, please, just let them check on my daughter!” My daughter’s face was flushed, turning purplish, and my heart was breaking. A flicker of reluctance crossed Ethan’s eyes. He was about to give in, but Sophia called: “Lucas! Lucas fainted again!” Ethan immediately shook off my hand. “If you want to kneel, then keep kneeling. You can get up when Lucas wakes up.” My scraped wounds were still bleeding. I tightly held my daughter and stood up, wanting to find a doctor at a clinic. But after just one step, my vision went black, and I collapsed in the rain. In a daze, I saw a church where white doves circled. Ethan slipped a diamond ring onto my ring finger. His eyes red, he kissed my tears: “Olivia, I will only love you in this life.” The scene shifted, he held me in his arms and smiled. “Olivia, have a daughter as beautiful as you for me. I want her to be the happiest young lady in the entire Emerald City.” But then it froze on him, expressionless, holding my hand, his voice as cold as ice: “Actually, our child died long ago.” “The one I love has always been Sophia…” I sat up abruptly, drenched in cold sweat. The bed beside me was empty, only the nurse changing my IV was there. “Mrs. Sterling, you’re finally awake. You’ve been unconscious for three days…” “Annie, where’s my daughter?” I swung my legs off the bed, wanting to find my daughter. But Ethan, who had just opened the door, stopped me. He picked me up and gently placed me back on the bed. “The child has been sent for treatment. There’s a party at home tomorrow, you’ll see her then.” I gripped his hand tightly, almost falling to my knees, tears gushing down my face. “Okay, okay… I’ll listen to you, as long as you don’t hurt my daughter.” He told me many stories about our past. Numb and submissive, I bit my lip, shedding tears, without a word. The next day, the house was brightly lit. In the front hall, Sophia held a baby, surrounded by society wives. “Oh, he’s certainly Mr. Sterling’s child, look how strong his little hands are.” “His eyes resemble Mrs. Sterling, so lively…” I excitedly rushed over, wanting to see my daughter. But the moment I saw the child, I froze. “Why is it him? Where’s my daughter?” A group of wealthy ladies smiled and took my hand, congratulating me: “Congratulations, Mrs. Sterling, on your baby boy!” “A boy for your first child, truly blessed…” “No!” I screamed, backing away, “I gave birth to a daughter, where is my daughter!” But everyone looked at me as if I were insane. Sophia held the child, standing in the crowd, and slowly curled her lips, saying each word clearly: “Olivia is confused again, you clearly gave birth to a boy.” She handed the child to the nanny, then supported my arm, explaining to the other ladies with a show of concern: “My sister-in-law’s mental state has been unstable during her pregnancy. She was diagnosed with severe postpartum depression and keeps saying she gave birth to a daughter, even harming the baby for no reason…” “My brother only let her out today because she seemed a little better, but I didn’t expect her to have another episode.” She then looked at me, comforting softly: “Olivia, everyone in Emerald City knows you gave birth to a son, don’t keep forgetting.” I didn’t miss the fleeting glimpse of triumph in her eyes. I slapped Sophia across the face, then went to the kitchen, grabbed a knife, held it to her throat, and screamed hysterically: “Give me back my daughter, or I’ll kill you!”

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The day I died, I heard my ex-husband’s laughter echoing outside the hospital room. He was picking out wedding invitations with Vivian Monroe. I lay in the ICU with tubes running through my body, dependent on machines just to breathe. And there he stood, just fifteen feet away in the hallway, planning his future with another woman. During our six years of marriage, I helped him take a failing company and turn it into a business with over a hundred million in annual revenue. His reward? A divorce agreement and five words: “You can leave now.” In my previous life, I didn’t sign. I thought if I just held on, he’d eventually remember all I’d done for him. Instead, he had Vivian cut off every escape route I had. I died alone in a rental apartment. The landlord found me three days later. I was still clutching a family photo. The moment I’m reborn, Ethan Shaw sits in his study, sliding a divorce agreement across the desk toward me. “Sign it, Emma. Vivian’s back. It’s time we ended this.” I look at his cold, perfect face and suddenly laugh. In my previous life, I gave everything for you. This time around, I’m going to live for myself. **Chapter 1** “What are you laughing at?” Ethan frowns, clearly finding my reaction abnormal. In my previous life at this moment, I was on my knees begging him not to divorce me. I cried all night, clinging to his legs, promising I could do better. He shoved me away in disgust and said, “You’re pathetic. It makes me sick.” Looking back now, the pathetic one was me. Six years together, six years of sacrifice, and I couldn’t even get a dignified exit. I stop laughing and pick up the pen from the desk. “How much is the settlement?” Ethan freezes. He clearly didn’t expect me to ask about money so directly. The old Emma never talked about money. The old Emma thought talking about money ruined relationships. “Three hundred thousand.” He pushes a bank card across the desk, his voice flat. “Plus a condo downtown. Enough for you to live on.” Three hundred thousand dollars. Six years of my youth, six years of work, forty million in client relationships, thirty-seven late nights saving his business—all worth three hundred thousand in the end. Cheaper than buying wholesale. I don’t negotiate. Not because I’ve given up. Because I know this three hundred thousand will become three hundred million. “I have one condition.” His guard goes up. “What condition?” “Add two hundred thousand to the settlement. Five hundred total.” “Are you kidding me?” His voice rises half an octave. I set down the pen and look him dead in the eye. “Your company went from bankruptcy to a hundred million in revenue because of whose client relationships? You know the answer.” “Five hundred thousand buys out every connection I have with those clients. From now on, I won’t contact them, and they won’t do you any favors because of me.” “Do the math yourself. Is it worth it?” The study falls silent for ten full seconds. Ethan stares at me like he’s seeing me for the first time. Finally, he opens a drawer, pulls out another card, and slides it over. “Fine. Take the money and don’t show your face around me again.” I pocket both cards and sign “Emma Carter” on the divorce agreement. Quick and decisive, without a second of hesitation. When I walk out the front door of the Shaw residence, his driver is already waiting. “Mrs. Shaw—” “No need.” I cut him off and open Uber on my phone. I’m not a Shaw, and I’m nobody’s Mrs. anymore. Starting today, I’m just Emma. **Chapter 2** The Uber drops me at a budget hotel in the city center. I don’t go see the condo Ethan gave me. In my previous life, I lived there for eight months before Vivian kicked me out, claiming “Ethan got this place ready for our wedding.” This time around, I don’t want that apartment. But the money? I’m not giving her a cent. I sit on the hotel bed and pull up my phone, searching for a name: Morgan Hayes. In my previous life, while dying alone in that rental apartment, I stumbled across a news article— “New retail queen Morgan Hayes breaks into the hundred-billion valuation club, named to Forbes Global Business Leaders list.” The article said her company started as a three-person studio, funded by an initial angel investment of five hundred thousand dollars. Lying on that broken bed, I remember thinking: I wish that investor had been me. Now, I have exactly five hundred thousand in my hands. And right now, Morgan Hayes is just a small brand founder who can barely make payroll. I dial her company number. The woman who answers sounds exhausted. “Hello, Vine Design Studio.” “Is Morgan available?” “Speaking.” “Hi Morgan, my name is Emma Carter. I’d like to learn more about your brand and discuss potential investment opportunities.” Silence on the other end for three seconds. Probably been a while since anyone called to discuss “investment.” “You… want to invest in us?” “Yes. Five hundred thousand, angel round. Can we meet today if you’re available?” The next morning, I’m sitting in Morgan’s studio. Calling it a studio is generous—it’s barely three hundred square feet, tables piled with fabric samples and design sketches. Morgan is younger than I expected, not even thirty, her thin face marked by all-nighters. But her eyes are bright. “I’ll be honest, we don’t get many investors.” She smiles somewhat sheepishly. “We’re too small. We haven’t turned a profit yet.” “But I’m confident about this direction. New retail, live-streaming, democratized designer brands—these three trends are going to explode in the next five years.” I nod. I don’t just know they’ll explode. I know exactly which year and which model will break through. “You don’t need to convince me.” I slide the bank card across the table. “Five hundred thousand for 20% equity. Only one condition: all major decisions get discussed with me first.” Morgan stares at the card for a long moment. “Emma, why do you trust me so much?” “Because I’m not investing in a project. I’m investing in a person.” It’s the truth. In my previous life, I watched too many people give up when they couldn’t see the future. Morgan is the type who’ll grit her teeth and push through no matter how hard it gets. After signing the contract, I do something else— I enroll in an executive business management program. In my previous life, everything I learned working alongside Ethan was fragmented and self-taught. This time, I’m going to learn systematically and properly. I can’t survive just by “knowing the future.” Because someone who knows the future but lacks the ability to seize it will still end up with nothing. **Chapter 3** The program meets in a commercial building on the west side of the city. The instructor is a well-known professor in the industry. Tuition is twenty-eight thousand for a three-month session. I pay the fee, collect my materials, and on day one, I sit in the back row right on time. The content is harder than I expected. Business models, financial statement analysis, equity structure design—I recognize every word individually, but together they might as well be hieroglyphics. But I’m not afraid. In my previous life, when I handled client relationships and negotiated contracts for Ethan, I started from zero too. I learned then. I can learn now. After the first class, I’ve filled eight pages of notes. My hand aches, but my heart feels steady. During the break, I head to the restroom and push open the door to see a familiar face. Vivian Monroe. She’s touching up her lipstick at the sink. She spots me in the mirror and her hand pauses. Then she smiles. “Oh, if it isn’t Emma.” She turns around, looking me up and down, her tone dripping with condescending concern. “Didn’t Ethan give you money? What are you doing taking a class like this?” “This kind of high-end executive program isn’t for people like you. Everyone here is a company executive or investor.” She raises an eyebrow, her smile deepening. “You spent six years as a housewife. What could you possibly understand in here?” I shake the water off my hands and grab a paper towel. “You’re right.” She blinks, surprised. “I was a housewife for six years.” I toss the towel in the trash and look her straight in the eye. “But starting today, I’m not anymore.” As I walk out of the restroom, I hear her laughing loudly behind me. Probably wants everyone in the hallway to hear. “Girls, Emma thinks taking one business class will make her an entrepreneur.” “Six years as a housewife, can’t even read a financial statement, and she’s here learning business management—” “Some people just don’t know their own limits.” A few people in the hallway laugh along. I don’t look back. Plenty of people mocked me in my previous life too. But in that life, they were right—I really did have nothing. This time, I’ll make sure they can’t laugh anymore. Back at my seat, I keep organizing my notes. There are concepts I didn’t understand, so I look up explanations on my phone and copy them down word by word. A woman sitting in front of me turns around, glances at my notebook, and looks surprised. “You take really detailed notes.” “I’m behind, so I have to work twice as hard.” She smiles and hands me a business card. “I’m Caroline Reed. I’m an analyst at a private equity fund. Feel free to ask if you don’t understand something.” I take the card and thank her. She’s the first stranger to show me kindness since I was reborn. I tuck the card into my notebook. Kindness is rare. I’ll remember every bit I receive. **Chapter 4** One month later. Morgan sends me a message: “Emma, our first livestream hit a hundred thousand viewers!” I look at my phone and smile slightly. A hundred thousand is just the beginning. In the news from my previous life, Morgan’s first real breakthrough came four months after getting angel funding—a collaborative livestream with a well-known influencer that brought in five million in sales in a single session. I know exactly who that influencer is. Right now, she’s just a small creator with fewer than fifty thousand followers. Her schedule is wide open, and her collaboration fee is practically nothing. I message Morgan: “I’m recommending an influencer—Vivienne Blake. Try doing a collaboration with her.” Morgan: “She only has a few tens of thousands of followers. Will it work?” Me: “Trust me.” She doesn’t ask again. Over this past month, she’s developed a strange trust in me—every direction I recommend turns out remarkably well after execution. She doesn’t know why. But she’s learned one thing: when Emma says something, execute first, understand later. That same afternoon, while I’m reviewing notes in class, my phone buzzes. A text from an unknown number: “Emma, it’s Robert Williams. Heard you left Ethan’s company? I’ve got a project I’d like to discuss with you. Are you available?” Robert Williams. Ethan’s biggest client. In my previous life, it was Robert’s order that kept Ethan’s company alive through its hardest first year. And I was the one who brought in that order. Before getting married, I worked in event management and got to know Robert. He only works with people he trusts, not companies. When he gave Ethan that order, it was 100% because of me. After the divorce in my previous life, Vivian blacklisted me and I was too ashamed to contact anyone. This life is different. “Robert, I’m always available.” That evening, a café. Robert Williams is in his mid-fifties, gray-haired but energetic. The moment he sees me, he slaps the table laughing. “Emma, I knew you’d eventually strike out on your own! Working for Ethan was a waste of your talent.” “I won’t beat around the bush—I’ve got a batch of cultural tourism projects that need execution. I was working with Ethan’s company before, but ever since you left… let’s just say it’s been rough.” He lowers his voice. “Last proposal went through six revisions and still didn’t pass. You in?” I set down my coffee. “Robert, I haven’t registered a company yet. But I can come in as a consultant first and help you build the proposal framework. Once I’m set up on my end, I’ll take all the follow-up projects.” He slaps the table. “Deal! That’s settled then!” Walking out of the café, the night air is cool. In my previous life, I gave all my connections and resources to Ethan for free. He used the network I built to rise to the top. Meanwhile, I shrank smaller and smaller under that same network until I was completely forgotten. This time, I’m weaving the network myself and using it for myself.

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1 I just got back from a business trip, and my boyfriend and I had a wild, breathless night. But as the fog of passion cleared, a cold realization hit me. His rhythm was all wrong. The way he held me, the angles, the touch—it wasn’t him. I grabbed him by the shoulder, my eyes scanning his face for any sign of betrayal, any detail that would confirm he was cheating. The next second, his eyes met mine, trembling. “Hey… Elias’s girl… I can’t do another round…” I froze. He looked at me with puppy-dog eyes, completely exhausted. “I have a basketball game tonight. If we go again, my legs are going to turn to jelly.” My heart stopped. It was like a bolt of lightning had cleared my dazed mind. I suddenly realized the man in my bed wasn’t my boyfriend, Elias. It was his younger brother, Chase. The college kid who hadn’t even graduated yet. No wonder his haircut felt slightly different when I walked in. A cold sweat broke out across my skin, chilling me to the bone. I yanked the sheets up to cover myself and let out a choked scream. “What are you doing here?! Why are you in my apartment?!” Silence fell over the room, thick and suffocating. His long eyelashes fluttered as he stared at me, his voice raw with disbelief. “What is that supposed to mean? You were so happy a second ago. Did you really not know who you were with?” He looked deeply hurt, like a kicked puppy. The explanation of my face blindness died in my throat. I couldn’t bring myself to say it. I took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to steady my racing heart. “Where is Elias? Why isn’t he home?” Chase lowered his gaze. “I came down for a game at the local college. The hotels were completely booked, so I had to crash at Elias’s. He didn’t want to wake me up when he left, so he stayed at the office. Neither of us knew you’d be back early.” His voice trailed off, his expression becoming softer, more helpless. No. I couldn’t let his innocent act fool me. I gritted my teeth. “Then why didn’t you say something before you took your clothes off?!” Chase’s shoulders slumped. “You kissed me the second you walked through the door. I didn’t even have a chance to breathe, let alone explain. “I know you’re worried about Elias finding out. I won’t tell him. “Let’s just pretend today was a dream.” As he spoke, he slipped back into his clothes and quietly began stripping the bed, replacing the sheets with fresh ones to erase every trace of what we had done. It was the perfect, clean resolution I should have wanted. But watching him, I felt like the worst person on earth. Finally, as he picked up my lacy thong to wash it by hand, I couldn’t take it anymore. “I’ll do that.” As I stepped closer, he flinched back as if burned, his eyes rimmed with red. “I’m the one who dirtied it,” he whispered. God help me. I felt like a criminal. 2 My phone buzzed. It was a voice message from Elias. I went to play it, but with Chase’s tearful eyes locked on me, a wave of guilt washed over me. I clicked the text-conversion button instead. Hey baby, when are you getting back? I just learned a new recipe. Miss you so much. One of the reasons I fell for Elias in the first place was his cooking. He always took care of my sensitive stomach, saving me from a lifetime of takeout. A small smile tugged at my lips. Beside me, Chase murmured, “That new recipe he learned? I’m the one who taught him.” I looked up in surprise. Chase was already pulling open the fridge, desperate to prove himself. “There are still ingredients from yesterday. If you don’t believe me, I’ll cook for you right now.” Before I could stop him, he pulled off his shirt and tied Elias’s apron around his waist. Why did he have to take his shirt off to cook? I followed him into the kitchen. Chase was incredibly fast, chopping, washing, and tossing ingredients in the pan with practiced ease. The apron strings wrapped snugly around his waist, accentuating the lean, muscular contours of his back. “Hey, wait,” I stammered, my eyes darting around. “Why are you cooking right now? This isn’t the time!” But the food was already plated. He turned to me, his eyes full of quiet anticipation. “Tessa, don’t you want a taste?” A taste of what? This raw, athletic college kid? My mind split into two screaming voices. One was telling me to run, while the other was whispering how dangerous and thrilling this whole mess was. Chase set the plate down and took a slow step toward me, towering over me. “Tessa, why aren’t you saying anything?” The air in the kitchen grew heavy, charged with a strange, suffocating heat. “You should call me your brother’s girl,” I whispered, my throat dry. He froze. His eyes darkened. “Is that what you want me to call you when we’re in bed?” The words hung in the air. Before I could answer, the sound of the front door unlocking shattered the silence. My scalp went numb. A second later, Elias’s voice echoed from the hallway. “A suitcase? Baby, is that you? Are you home?” 3 Three of us. One room. Total, dead silence. Cold sweat poured down my neck as I frantically tried to think of a lie, but my brain had completely short-circuited. Then, Chase spoke up, his voice perfectly casual. “Oh, hey, Elias. You’re back. Tessa just walked in a minute ago, right as I finished making lunch.” I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Elias kicked off his shoes and immediately wrapped his arms around me, lifting me off my feet. “Baby, why didn’t you tell me you were coming back early? You didn’t reply to my texts!” He spun me around, and my exhausted, dizzy head swam. Thankfully, Chase cut in. “Let’s eat, Elias.” His voice was cool, but as he turned back to the stove, his bare, muscular back was on full display. Elias frowned. “Chase, where are your clothes?” Chase paused. My fingers tensed, twisting together. “They’re in the wash,” Chase said quietly, heading back into the kitchen. My heart did a violent flip. There were clothes hanging on the balcony. But so was my freshly washed lace thong. If Elias went out there… Desperate, I grabbed Elias by the collar and pulled him down into a hard, sudden kiss. He froze, caught off guard, but quickly melted into it, returning the kiss with fierce passion. His breathing turned shallow and heavy. “Baby, wait… Chase is still here…” 4 Clatter. A plate shattered on the kitchen floor. Chase stood there, his eyes instantly turning red. Elias and I pulled apart. Elias cleared his throat, looking slightly embarrassed. “Sorry, man. We haven’t seen each other in a while. Just pretend you didn’t see that.” Chase’s lips trembled. “Must be nice… being so swept up in the moment.” Elias didn’t catch the bitterness in his voice. “What?” Chase didn’t answer. He knelt down, silently sweeping up the broken shards. From where I stood, I could only see the lonely, tense line of his shoulders. We sat down to eat, but the delicious food tasted like ash in my mouth. My entire focus was on the subtle, deliberate friction brushing against my right leg under the table. I knew it wasn’t Elias. Elias was sitting on my left. The silence at the table was suffocating. Then, Chase picked up a piece of green pepper and dropped it into Elias’s bowl. “Eat your veggies, bro,” Chase said softly. Then, he picked up a perfectly glazed rib and placed it gently into my bowl. Elias’s expression froze. I choked, coughing violently. Elias looked at me, his eyes unreadable. “Baby, let me get you some water.” Yes. Please. Anything to break this agonizing tension. I nodded frantically. The moment Elias walked away, I let out a long breath and glared at Chase. “What are you doing?!” He didn’t look up, chewing his food slowly. Then, he murmured, “The fridge is on the balcony, Tessa.” The balcony. The thong. It hit me like a physical blow. I sprang up and bolted toward the balcony, but Elias was already coming back with a glass of water. His face was entirely calm. “What’s wrong, baby?” he asked. I swallowed hard, my throat tight. But I noticed his lips were slightly pale. “Were you that thirsty?” he asked softly. 5 I felt like I was sitting on a bed of nails. Elias didn’t ask any questions, but the heavy, unsaid suspicion in the air was driving me insane. I was terrified he was just gathering evidence, waiting for Chase to leave so he could confront me. The suspense was agonizing. Finally, Elias looked up, his voice cold and flat. “You should leave today.” He was talking to his brother. The two men locked eyes. For a moment, the entire world seemed to go silent. My soul felt like it had left my body. By the time I came to, Chase was already packing his bags. He walked to the door and gave me one last, lingering look. “See you next time, Tessa.” The door clicked shut. Only Elias and I were left in the apartment. Everything looked perfectly normal, yet I couldn’t bring myself to look him in the eye. Suddenly, Elias grabbed my wrist. I looked up. His eyes were rimmed with red. “Tessa… you have no idea how much I missed you these past few days.” A suffocating wave of guilt crashed over me. I took a deep breath, preparing to tell him the truth. But before I could speak, Elias leaned down and covered my mouth with his. He kissed me with a desperate, almost feral intensity, his tears spilling onto my cheeks. This time, there was no gentle rhythm. He was burning hot, pulling me into a chaotic storm of pleasure and pain. In my dazed, drifting mind, I heard Elias whisper against my ear: “Baby… does he make you feel better than I do?” My eyes snapped wide open. “What did you say?!” But another wave of passion crashed over us, and he didn’t answer, pouring all his energy into making me forget everything else. It was as if what I heard was just a hallucination. He knew my body too well. Within seconds, my thoughts dissolved again. When it was over, I was completely drained, on the verge of falling asleep. In the quiet haze, a raspy, quiet voice began to tell a story. “Chase was born when I was four. He always knew how to charm everyone. I couldn’t help but be jealous of him. I took everything he had, all through our childhood. On his eighteenth birthday, our parents and I went on a trip. He called, crying for help. I thought he was just trying to steal their attention again, so I secretly turned off my parents’ phones. When we got back, we found out he had acute pancreatitis. He was left alone, and he almost died in that empty house.” Elias paused, his voice cracking. “I swore to him then that I would never take anything he loved ever again. But Tessa… why did it have to be you?” 6 The next morning, the apartment was spotless. The leftover food was gone, and my suitcase was neatly put away. Elias was always like this, quietly taking care of everything. I picked up my phone and noticed a new contact request. Tessa, are you coming to my game tonight? I’d be really happy if you did. I didn’t need to ask who it was. Chase and I had made a terrible mistake, and I needed to end it. I would cut ties with Chase completely, and then… I would beg Elias for forgiveness. With my mind made up, I called him. He answered almost instantly. “Tessa?” His voice had a hopeful lift to it. I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Delete my number after this. We can’t contact each other anymore.” Silence fell over the line. Then, a sudden, violent crash echoed through the phone. Someone on the other end started screaming in a panic. “Chase! Oh my god, Chase! Quick, call an ambulance!” My heart squeezed tight. “Chase?! Chase, what happened?!” 7 The call went dead. Panic clawed at my chest. Something had happened to Chase. I tried calling back, but it kept going straight to voicemail. Was it because of what I said? I spent the entire day in a state of agonizing anxiety. At the end of the day, Elias picked me up from work. “I have to drop by the hospital. I’ll take you home first.” “The hospital?!” My voice pitched high. “Who’s hurt?!” Elias glanced at me, his eyes dark. “How did you know someone was hurt, and not sick?” My breath caught. I opened my mouth to explain, but no words came out. The light turned green, and Elias stepped on the gas. After a long, suffocating silence, he spoke in a low, hollow voice. “It’s Chase. He’s hurt. Do you… want to come?” It really was Chase. And it was because of my phone call. I gripped the seatbelt, my voice trembling. “I have to go, Elias. Please, take me with you.” 8 When we arrived, his teammates confirmed my worst fears. They said Chase was on the phone, and suddenly his face went completely pale. A stray basketball had flown right toward him, but he didn’t even try to dodge it. He fell backward, cracking his head against the concrete bleachers. He was still unconscious. “Chase usually has crazy reflexes,” one teammate said, pacing the hallway. “But he got that call from a girl and just lost it. Otherwise, there’s no way he wouldn’t have dodged that ball.” The hallway fell into a heavy silence. Elias’s expression was grim, completely unreadable. I stood there, my mind a chaotic mess of guilt and fear. Everything was spiraling because of me. I took a slow step toward Elias. The urge to confess, to lay everything bare, was overwhelming. No matter what happened next, the tragedy was my fault. “Elias…” I whispered, my fingers trembling. He looked up, a raw, fragile pain flickering in his eyes. “Don’t,” he rasped, his fists clenching so hard the veins bulged on his thighs. “Don’t say it. I don’t want to hear it right now.” A dull ache spread through my chest. Just then, the ward door opened. A nurse stepped out. “The patient is awake.” Chase lay in the bed, his head wrapped in thick white bandages. Despite the distance, his eyes locked onto me the second I walked in. “Tessa… my head hurts,” he whispered.

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1 The wedding was about to start, but my fiancé Neil’s female best friend, Barbara, had slipped into my wedding dress. “Neil, remember when we played house as kids? I was always the mom, and you were the dad.” She smoothed down the lace over her hips, looking at him through the mirror. “Now you’re actually getting married. Play with me one last time, okay?” I watched, paralyzed, as Neil picked up the wedding band. He dropped to one knee and slid my ring onto Barbara’s ring finger. His thoughts drifted into my mind, loud and demanding. She took the dress, she took the ring; why isn’t my wife jealous yet? Hold me, Marissa. Tell me that I’m your only love. Say it, please! This is the last test, baby. Give me unconditional love, give me security, and I promise I’ll be faithful to you forever. Eight years of this. I was sick of it. I walked up. Neil looked at me, his eyes full of eager hope. I reached out, ripped the veil off my head, and threw it at Barbara. “I’m out,” I said. “Happy wedding to both of you.” I shoved the bouquet into Barbara’s hands. She froze for a second, but instead of pushing it away, she leaned closer to Neil. “Marissa, we’re practically brothers! It was just a joke, why are you taking it so seriously?” She nudged Neil with her elbow. “Look at your wife. Eight years, and she’s still this petty.” For eight years, they had constantly crossed the line in front of me. On our anniversaries, if Neil bought me a gift, he always bought Barbara one too. If mine cost fifty grand, hers had to cost a hundred grand. When we went on picnics, Barbara always took the passenger seat, casually feeding Neil snacks right in front of me, even shoving things she had already bitten into his mouth. “Marissa, Neil and I have always been like this. You don’t mind, do you?” And before I could even speak, Neil would chime in, “If she minded something like that, she wouldn’t be my girl; she’d be my mom.” Once, I was so furious I got out of the car on the highway and walked all the way back alone. His inner thoughts had followed me even then: Aww, my baby loves me too much. She can’t stand seeing me with anyone else. I’m so touched. Get angrier, let me feel your love and possessiveness. You’re the only one in the world who cares about me this much. I had been torn. One voice told me to leave; he had hurt me too much, and staying would only bring more pain. But another voice begged me to stay, reminding me that Neil was broken. I had worked so hard to pull him out of his traumatic childhood; how could I throw him back in? And so, one compromise led to worse behavior. Neil never respected my feelings. He treated my anger as a trophy of his love. A bouquet flying at me snapped me out of my thoughts. Neil stood there, his eyes red with fury, having just thrown the flowers. “If you don’t want to get married, then don’t!” he yelled. But his heart was begging: Pick them up, please. Please don’t abandon me. I love you, can’t you see that? I looked at the scattered lilies of the valley on the floor and laughed bitterly. “Let’s break up, then.” “Oh, don’t do that,” Barbara chimed in, stirring the pot. “It’s my fault. I didn’t have boundaries, and I ruined your relationship. But…” she dragged out the word, “Marissa, I might be in the wrong, but if you can just give up your own wedding like this, do you even love Neil at all?” That was Neil’s biggest trigger. He clenched his fists and screamed at me, “Then get the hell out!” He believed Barbara so easily. He forgot the eight years we spent together, how I poured my heart out for him. I knew all his preferences. I worried about his worries. Because he loved fish, I would drive three hours to the coast just to buy the freshest catch. When he had business dinners, I set alarms for late at night to pick him up, feeding him sobering soup, washing his face and feet, and cradling him to sleep. “You really are ungrateful,” I said. Neil’s face went pale. I pushed open the door and walked away. By the time I took off my wedding makeup and grabbed my bag to leave, the venue doors had been locked because the ceremony had started. Barbara, holding the skirt of the gown, was guided to the start of the red carpet by the staff. We were less than a yard apart. I could see the exquisite details of the wedding dress, and on her head, she wore the pink diamond tiara I had pre-ordered six months ago. “Marissa, let me finish the ceremony for you,” she smiled. The spotlight bypassed me and landed on her. The officiant began: “Please welcome the bride!” When Barbara walked onto the stage, the crowd gasped. Suddenly, someone noticed me. Soon, more people turned around, their whispering voices cutting into my back like needles. “Why did they swap the bride?” “Did the original bride do something scandalous and get caught?” “How embarrassing. I heard they already got their marriage certificate. The groom must feel so blind.” “Tsk, tsk. Divorced before even finishing the wedding. Who would want her now?” Neil heard it all. But instead of feeling bad for me, a smug thought crossed his mind: The wilder the rumors, the better. That way, you’ll only belong to me. Baby, get angry! Come up to the stage and take me back! I found a seat and sat down. I was too exhausted to be angry anymore. The ceremony continued. They exchanged vows, swapped rings, and embraced amid applause. Neil kept glancing my way. I looked up. His desperate gaze met my dull eyes. Amid the cheering crowd, our world was dead silent. Neil pulled Barbara close and kissed her deeply. A thunderclap seemed to shatter my mind. A high-pitched ringing filled my ears, and I could no longer hear Neil’s inner thoughts. A different voice was screaming inside me: Leave! Get out of here now! Trembling, I pulled out my phone, opened our work group chat, and approved the transfer request my manager had posted a few days ago. I went home and started packing. On my phone, the message I sent Neil remained unanswered: Are you done drinking? Meet me directly at the courthouse. We’re getting a divorce. He didn’t reply for hours. Around midnight, his friend Tommy called me. “Neil’s wasted. Come pick him up.” “Tell Barbara to go,” I said. “Barbara’s here!” Tommy yelled. “But she can’t handle him. Hurry up, he’s going to drink himself to death!” Legally, Neil and I were still married. If something happened to him, I’d be held responsible. So I drove to the club. Before I even pushed open the VIP lounge door, a burst of laughter leaked through the crack. “I bet Marissa shows up!” “To put it bluntly, she’s like a dog Neil keeps. All these years, he just waves his hand, and she comes wagging her tail!” Someone interrupted, “I bet she won’t. She lost all face at the wedding today. I don’t believe she’s that shameless to come crawling back.” “Neil, what do you think?” Neil, heavily drunk, leaned back on the sofa, his fingers tracing the cheek of a girl sitting next to him. “She’ll come,” he said confidently. “You’ve all seen it. No matter how badly I treat her, she always forgives me. She can’t live without me.” He didn’t define our relationship with love; he defined it as codependency. He never viewed us as equals. Barbara slapped his hand away. She snatched his phone, easily unlocked it, and showed everyone my text. “Keep dreaming! She’s asking for a divorce!” Neil sneered. “She’s just throwing a tantrum. Would she actually dare? We just got registered. Divorcing before the honeymoon? People would talk about her behind her back for the rest of her life!” I froze, a sharp pain twisting my heart. I couldn’t believe this came from the man I loved for eight years. Baby, I know you’re outside. You still can’t let me go. Can you hear how angry I am? Come in and coax me. Do that, and I’ll pretend today never happened. I gripped the doorknob, my knuckles turning white. “Hey, who wants to hear the diary of a simp?” Barbara waved the phone, scrolling up my chat history, reading my messages aloud as she giggled in Neil’s lap. “Hubby, which nightgown do you want me to wear tonight? Hubby, what do you want for dinner? Hubby…” I kicked the door open. Except for Neil, everyone’s face fell. I walked straight up to him. Slap! His head whipped to the side. He rubbed his jaw, but his expression wasn’t angry. You really do still care about me. “How dare you…” Barbara jumped up. Slap! I slapped her so hard she stumbled back, completely dazed. “Do either of you have any shame?” I asked. Barbara clutched her red cheek and burst into tears. Neil immediately shielded her. “Hit me if you want, but don’t touch her!” To the crowd, his actions sent a clear message: he didn’t care about me; he only cared about protecting Barbara. The others laughed and went back to drinking, completely ignoring me. One even joked, “As expected of a married couple who took vows. Always protecting each other.” Because of Neil’s attitude, his friends had never respected me. They called Barbara “his girl” behind my back and gave me derogatory nicknames. Neil knew, but he never stood up for me. He was just like those trashy people, treating my humiliation as a joke. I finally saw him clearly. “I came here for business.” I opened my bag, pulled out the divorce papers and a pen, and threw them onto the table. “Sign it.” Neil froze, his pupils trembling. “Marissa, do you know what you’re doing?” Don’t abandon me, please. I love you so much, how can you do this to me? How can you be so heartless! “Sign it,” I said, cold and clear. Tommy threw an arm around Neil’s shoulder, sneering. “Neil, sign it! Let this old woman realize what regret feels like!” The others chimed in. “Yeah! Just treat it like firing a maid!” I grabbed a beer bottle and smashed it against the edge of the table. The loud explosion of glass silenced the room. I pointed the jagged neck of the broken bottle outward, scanning the crowd. “Who wants to say another word?” Neil’s eyes were red with suppressed emotion. He grabbed the pen, gritted his teeth, and signed his name. “Take it and get the hell out!” He threw the papers at my face. The sharp paper sliced my cheek, and a drop of blood dripped onto the floor. “Didn’t you hear me?” He pulled out a thick stack of cash from his wallet and threw it into the air. The bills rained down over me, light enough to be blown away by a breeze, but heavy enough to crush a person’s soul. “Consider this payment for your services. You’re fired, maid. Get out.” I wanted to laugh, but I wanted to cry even more. My eyes were burning, but I forced my lips to curl upward. “Neil, you really are something… You really are a monster.” Don’t go! Don’t go! Tear up the papers, I can’t live without you! His inner thoughts screamed. Just swallow your pride one more time! Please! Don’t abandon me! I’ll go crazy! You promised you’d love me forever! You can’t break your promise! My hands shook as I picked up the papers, folded them, and put them in my bag. The heavy door closed, shutting out Neil’s desperate gaze. As soon as I reached my car, Neil ran out after me. I thought he was going to make some pathetic attempt to win me back. Instead, he just held out his hand. “Give me the car keys. I bought it.” He had given me this car on our 520th day together. It was painted my favorite shade of yellow, and the steering wheel had our names engraved on it: Marissa & Neil, Forever. I still remembered how thrilled I was when I received it. For six years, every time I drove it, I relived that happiness. Now, he wanted it back. “Here.” I handed him the keys. But Neil hesitated to take them, his eyes filled with pain and struggle. Don’t give them to me! I don’t want the car! I want you! Just hug me. I’ve walked ninety-nine steps, just take one step toward me and we can be whole again. Barbara ran out behind him. “Perfect, Tommy didn’t drink. Let him drive us back in this car.” Neil took the keys. It was three in the morning, and the streets were empty. I walked home alone in the dark, shivering. My feet, bare in my shoes, soon blistered and bled. When I finally unlocked the door, I went to change into my slippers, only to find them gone. Barbara’s shoes were sitting neatly next to Neil’s. The bedroom door was shut. I could hear Neil’s thoughts from inside: Open the door. See this. Get jealous. You have to care about me! Barbara is wearing your wedding robe, sleeping in our bed. I don’t believe you feel nothing. If you keep playing this game, you’re the one who will lose. I put on my headphones, playing soft music until his voice faded away. I grabbed my packed suitcase, changed into comfortable shoes, took off the necklace Neil had given me as our promise ring, and left it on the dining table. I wrote a note: “I’m returning everything. We are even. Let’s never see each other again.” I took a cab to the airport, checked in, and boarded. Three hours later, my plane landed. When my phone finally got reception, a flood of messages crashed in. Over three hundred messages and a hundred missed calls filled my screen, all from Neil. The flood of desperate words began at dawn and had not stopped.

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1 During my year-long overseas posting, my husband and son cried on the phone every day, telling me how much they missed me. Ross insisted on scheduled video calls just to get through his workday, and my little boy, Toby, refused to go to sleep unless I sang to him over a cross-ocean call. Then came the day I got distracted during one of those calls and fell into a storm drain. Instead of clinging to me, they suddenly became the ones comforting me. “Honey, focus on your work. It is only a year, and I can wait.” “Mommy, I will be a good boy. I can sleep on my own now.” I pushed myself to the limit, optimizing my workflow to finish a twelve-month assignment two months ahead of schedule. But by then, they hadn’t contacted me in over two weeks. I caught a red-eye flight back home and went straight to Toby’s school essay competition. As I reached the auditorium door, my son’s sweet, high-pitched voice echoed through the speakers. “The title of my essay is, I Love My Mommy.” My heart warmed as I leaned in, eagerly waiting to hear the rest. “My Mommy Tina is a superhero.” To the crowd’s roaring applause, my husband walked onto the stage, his arm wrapped tightly around a woman. The three of them stood close, thanking the audience together. And I froze. The “Mommy Tina” Toby loved, the woman in my husband’s arms, was my best friend. Ross spotted me and froze for a fraction of a second. He tapped his phone quickly. A second later, my phone buzzed in my hand. One text on the screen read, Don’t make a scene. I will explain when we get home. I took a deep breath and sat down in the nearest empty seat. Ross gently rested his left hand on Tina’s shoulder while holding Toby’s hand with his right, sitting directly in front of me. They looked like the perfect family. The whispers of the other parents drifted into my ears. “What a beautiful family. Even with how busy he is, he still makes time to support his kid.” “I know. Remember the school field trip? He was so sweet to his wife. I was so jealous.” “And the parent-teacher conferences. Most kids only have one parent show up, but Toby always has both. He must be so happy.” “I’m used to it by now. They’re always together at every school event.” Ross seemed oblivious to the chatter, whispering softly into Tina’s ear. A sharp, suffocating ache bloomed in my chest. I wanted to scream, to tell them that I was Ross’s wife, that I was Toby’s mother. But the words died in my throat. By the time the event ended and we got home, dusk was falling. Tina made herself comfortable on the far end of our sofa. “Wendy, please don’t get the wrong idea. I only went for Toby’s sake. He said all his friends had both parents there. He felt so left out being the only one with just a dad.” I glanced at Tina’s left ring finger. The ring she wore was identical to mine. Our wedding band. “Does a simple school competition require a matching wedding band?” Ross sat beside me, rubbing my back gently. “We just had to make it believable. If we slipped up, think of what the other parents and kids would say about Toby behind his back. Wendy, you’ve been away too long. You don’t know how cruel schoolyard gossip can be.” I wanted to argue, but I couldn’t. I remembered a school sports day before I left. I had been held up by an emergency meeting. When I finally got home, Toby was curled up on the couch, sobbing. He eventually confessed that his classmates mocked him for having a mother who was never there. I realized then how much pain he had hidden just to keep me from worrying. Tina slid the ring off and tossed it casually onto the coffee table. “Look, don’t be mad. Now that you’re back, you can take over his school events, and I can step back.” Suddenly, Toby ran down the stairs, tears streaming down his face. “You always put work first! My classmates always laughed at me! You never pick me up from school, so I asked Auntie Tina to play the part!” My chest tightened, a burning sensation stinging my eyes. Ross frowned, his voice sharp. “Toby, apologize now!” My son walked up to me, his face red from crying. “I’m sorry, Mommy. But Daddy and Auntie Tina are just friends. They did it for me. Please don’t be mad at them.” Seeing how earnest my son was, my resolve softened. Ross and Tina were people I had loved and trusted for a decade. They always kept their distance around each other, sitting on opposite ends of the couch. They hadn’t even had each other’s contact info until I insisted before leaving the country. Maybe I really was overthinking this. I took a deep breath, smiled, and opened my arms. “I’m sorry, sweetie. Mommy promises she won’t break her word again, okay?” But Toby didn’t run to me like he used to. He hesitated, looking at Tina as if seeking permission. My chest tightened. Tina looked away, a flicker of awkwardness in her eyes. Ross gave Toby a small nod, and only then did my son step forward to hug me. My warmth began to turn cold. Before bed, Toby brought out his piggy bank. “Mommy, here’s all my money. Three thousand five hundred and forty-six dollars.” I remembered how long he’d saved this money for something special. He climbed into my lap with a grin. “I want to buy a gift.” I smiled, assuming he remembered my upcoming birthday. Then he added, “Auntie Tina’s birthday is in a few days. Can you help me buy her the big fireworks display?” My smile froze. “Toby, if Mommy had to go work abroad again, would you want to come with me?” He buried his face in his pillow. “No. Daddy and Auntie Tina are here. I like it here.” I let out a quiet, bitter laugh. Just as I stepped out of Toby’s bedroom, my phone buzzed. It was an email from my contact in London. The message said, Wendy, get your onboarding paperwork sorted as soon as you can. I have managed to push the start date back a few days for you. I walked into our bedroom and winced, shielding my eyes. The warm, soft lighting had been replaced by a harsh, clinical cool light. Ross noticed and quickly dimmed it, looking apologetic. “I’m so sorry, honey. Tina said the cool tones would give the room a modern, high-end feel. I completely forgot your eyes are sensitive to it.” He pulled me close, whispering, “Don’t be mad at me for a stupid mistake, okay?” A stupid mistake? I wanted to laugh. When we first renovated this house, Ross had been obsessed with the lighting, terrified of anything hurting my sensitive eyes. He had traveled to light markets across the country, running himself ragged until he fell ill. I remembered crying by his hospital bed, and him wiping my tears, saying that anything affecting me was his absolute top priority. He had visited thirteen cities just to find the perfect warm lights. Now, Tina’s casual suggestion made my comfort a stupid mistake not worth mentioning. I reached for the glass on my nightstand. It was ice-cold juice. Cold liquids gave me stomach cramps, so Ross always left a glass of warm water for me. Now, it was replaced by iced juice. I couldn’t drink cold things, and I hated juice. But iced juice was Tina’s favorite. I set it down without a word. Ross didn’t notice. He kissed my cheek like he always did, but the touch felt like a thorn pricking my heart. My phone buzzed, saving me from having to speak. It was an invitation to our ten-year college reunion. I typed a quick reply confirming I’d be there. Ross looked surprised. “I thought you hated these events.” “I do, but ten years is a milestone. It’s worth going to.” Ten years ago, on graduation day, Ross had proposed to me in front of everyone. He had organized our entire class to hand me flowers, appearing at the end with a massive bouquet, getting down on one knee. He had promised me that his heart would never change. Girls in the crowd had wept. I had cried in his arms. I looked at myself in the mirror now, wondering if human hearts ever truly stayed the same. The next day, after dropping Toby off at school, we prepared to leave. But Ross stopped me. “Tina is coming with us. Let’s wait for her.” I didn’t say anything and climbed into the passenger seat. Half an hour later, Tina showed up. She reached for the front passenger door, only to freeze when she saw me sitting there. Her face paled. “Oh, sorry, Wendy. I get carsick easily, so I instinctively go for the front.” I merely nodded. She awkwardly got into the back seat. We arrived late. The others teased us, making Ross drink three penalty cups. He drank them easily, then took my cup and drank that too. The other women sighed in envy. “Ten years and you two are still like newlyweds.” “You actually proved your vows true.” Ross grinned. “I keep my promises. Of course I am going to spoil my wife.” When it was Tina’s turn, she pleaded with the group. “Spare me, guys. It’s that time of the month. I can’t drink cold alcohol today.” The men teased her. “Don’t ruin the fun, Tina. Find a boyfriend to drink for you.” Tina’s smile faltered. I was about to stand up to help her out, but Ross beat me to it. He snatched her glass and downed it in one go. “Stop teasing her. She said she is not feeling well.” His voice was light, but his eyes were serious. Eyes darted between the three of us. I clenched my fists under the table. The air grew cold. Then, someone piped up, “You two are still as close as ever.” The tension dissipated as the others began reminiscing. “Everyone knew Tina was crazy about Ross back then. Who knew he’d fall head over heels for Wendy at first sight?” “It’s amazing how Wendy and Tina ended up best friends anyway.” I forced a smile. Tina had chased Ross for a year, but Ross had fallen for me during a debate competition. When I finally agreed to date him, Tina had gracefully stepped aside. Later, I saved her from some thugs, and we became fast friends. My phone vibrated violently. It was my assistant, sounding frantic. “Wendy, you need to come back right now! Something went wrong!” I stood up abruptly. I stared at Tina, my face cold. “Did you actually review the proposal before submitting it?” Tina flinched. “Of course I did. This project is huge. I checked it several times. Ross can vouch for me.” Ross nodded. “Tina worked late for days. I remember clearly.” My assistant met me at the door. “Wendy, the submitted project budget has an extra zero. A forty-two million dollar proposal was inflated tenfold. There are two approval signatures on it. Tina’s, and Ross’s.” Tina and Ross followed me back. I threw the documents on the desk. Tina’s face turned white. “I didn’t mean to, Wendy! It was an accident!” “An accident that will cost the company nearly three hundred million? You are fired. The company will be filing a lawsuit.” “That’s enough, Wendy!” Ross yelled. “It’s not just her mistake. I’ll handle the financial fallout. But you don’t have the right to fire a shareholder.” “What do you mean?” Ross helped Tina up and draped his coat over her shoulders. “I transferred my ten percent share to her.” “Wendy, you’re being too harsh. Tina is Toby’s godmother. How is she supposed to face anyone if you humiliate her like this? She took amazing care of Toby while you were away. Consider the shares her reward.” “You are in love with her, aren’t you?” Silence filled the office. “We didn’t do anything, I swear,” Ross said after a long pause. I couldn’t even summon the energy to argue. I placed my resignation letter on the desk. “People should pay for their own choices, shouldn’t they?” I went home, packed a bag, and headed to the airport. At the security gate, Ross called. “We picked up Toby. He wants to celebrate Tina’s birthday.” He paused. “Just this once. After this, she and I are done.” I smiled quietly. “Sure. Have fun.” “Ma’am, you are cleared through security. Your gate is on the left.”

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1 I was never meant for the rough life. I was soft, a girl who loved her comforts. When I first crossed over into the Wildlands, my mate spoiled me rotten. He treated me like a rare, delicate treasure. But then a new female arrived in our territory, and she was the exact opposite of me. Sienna was rugged. She hunted alongside the males, worked her fingers to the bone, and did not care if she got dirt under her nails. Gideon looked at her with shining eyes. And just like that, my soft curves and delicate nature became a burden to him. He started complaining that I was too high maintenance, that my insistence on having the best food and the warmest pelts was too much trouble. He invited Sienna to discipline me. For the past three years, whenever I dared to talk back, she would punish me without mercy. And Gideon would just stand there, throwing out his favorite threat. “If you do not learn to behave, I will dump you in the Serpent Basin!” He knew I was terrified of snakes. Today, he used that threat again. The sheer weight of his cruelty finally broke me. I pushed him away, tears streaming down my face. “Then I do not want you anymore! I will find a new mate!” The only response I got was the vicious crack of a vine whip. A blistering, fiery pain tore across my chest. I looked down through my blurry vision. The soft fur of my bodice had been split open, revealing my pale skin and a stark, bloody welt swelling right across my collarbone. My skin was so sensitive that a papercut used to make me cry. This kind of agony was blinding. “Sienna, back off!” I screamed. But Sienna just stood there, dripping with self-righteousness. “You crossed the line, Aria. As Gideon’s female, how dare you speak to him like that?” I sniffled, my eyes red and burning, staring at her in absolute disbelief. Gideon froze for a split second when he heard her words. Then his face hardened into a sneer. “Look at you. Pathetic and useless. Who else in this pack would even want you if I did not claim you?” “Sienna is right, Aria. Stop being such an ungrateful brat.” He raked his cold gaze over my body, lingering on my slender waist with nothing but impatience and disgust. I knew it. Ever since Sienna showed up, he despised how fragile I was. He hated that I could not run through the bloody woods with him and hunt down prey. He hated that I needed my drinking water boiled, my meat thoroughly cooked, and my body wrapped in thick, warm furs to survive the winter. I was nothing like Sienna, who paraded around the camp in a skimpy leather skirt, completely unbothered by the cold or the stares. But I had tried. Gods knew I had tried to be like them in the beginning. It resulted in a fever that nearly killed me. Only then did Gideon realize I was physically different, and he promised to let me live at my own pace. The memory of that broken promise made me clench my fists. “There are hundreds of males out there. It does not have to be you. You do not even like me anymore, so let us just call it quits.” Gideon’s face did not soften. His scowl only deepened. “Enough! I just wanted you to learn half of what Sienna knows so I could let you off the hook. But if you keep throwing these childish tantrums, I will stop holding back.” He was so utterly confident. He thought I was throwing a fit. He thought I could never survive without him. After all, despite my delicate nature, I had spent the last few years being completely submissive to him. He genuinely believed I was entirely dependent on him. He had no idea how terrified I was when I first dropped into this alien world, completely alone. He was the one who walked up to me, handed me a handful of sweet berries, and claimed me as his mate. I clung to him because he was my only anchor in a terrifying new reality. But now? He did not love me. He only gave me pain and humiliation. It was time to cut the cord. The icy indifference in his voice cemented my decision. I wiped my face and stood tall. “No. I meant what I said. We are done. I am getting a new mate.” I grabbed the torn edges of my top to cover myself, bit my lip, and turned to walk out. A heavy hand clamped down on my arm. Gideon gripped my wrist with bone-crushing force. My skin turned violently red, sending a piercing ache up my arm. He did not care. He just glared at me with furious eyes. “I really spoiled you to death, did I not?” “I let Sienna train you day and night for three years so you could become a proper mate. I did all of this for your own good, and you spit in my face!” Sienna finally chimed in, perfectly playing the victim. “Gideon, it is my fault. I just hate seeing her disrespect you like this. Maybe I should just leave.” She sighed, looking incredibly helpless. “I never imagined she would be this soft. We get clawed and bitten on hunts all the time, and no one cries like this. A female like her… she will never survive as a proper mate.” Gideon scoffed. “She is just spoiled rotten. She contributes nothing to the pack, and now she thinks she can talk down to us. She needs a real lesson.” With a brutal shove, he threw me down onto the stone slab in the corner of the room. Panic seized my chest. I thrashed wildly. “Gideon, what are you doing! Let me go, please…” It was useless. His grip was like iron, completely immobilizing my arms. Seeing me pinned, Sienna stepped forward with a twisted smile. And this time, she raised the thick vine whip, aiming right at my bare legs. “Exactly. Your behavior is a disgrace to all females, Aria.” “I am going to teach you how to behave.” 2 Crack. The whip lashed down. “That is for disrespecting your mate.” My vision went black. A sickening cocktail of numbness and burning agony ripped a loud, ugly sob from my throat. Gideon did not stop her. Instead, he grabbed the thick hide ropes from the wall and tied my wrists and ankles to the stone bed. He stood above me, staring down at my tear-stained face with zero emotion. “Keep going.” Before I could even process the pain or beg for mercy, a blinding sting slapped across my mouth. Sienna had whipped my face. She smiled down at me, her eyes dancing with vicious glee. “Hold still, Aria.” “Gideon is your mate. He specifically asked me for a favor, and I am not going to let him down.” “That one is to teach you not to hurl insults.” The vine rose and fell again. This time, it struck my breasts. I screamed. The flesh went completely numb before exploding into radiating fire. “That one is for being weak and forcing your mate to waste his time hunting down soft pelts just to clothe you.” Then came the second strike. And the third. Across my waist. Down my thighs. Every strike came with a self-righteous lecture. My body convulsed violently. I looked up at Gideon through a veil of tears, my voice breaking. “It hurts. Gideon, please, it hurts so much. Let me go…” His eyes were dead. He did not flinch. My heart turned to ash. It felt like a massive boulder had been dropped onto my chest, dragging me down into a dark, suffocating abyss. Sienna raised her arm again. The rough vine hovered over my pale, bruised thigh. “This one is to teach you…” A low, thunderous voice suddenly echoed through the room. “Enough.” I lay there, soaked in cold sweat, barely able to keep my eyes open. Gideon had finally decided to intervene. He stared intensely at me, untying the thick ropes. His voice was a dangerous rumble. “Do you understand your mistakes now, Aria?” I did not answer. Swallowing the bile and the pain, I forced myself to stand. My legs shook violently as I walked silently toward the door. As I brushed past him, his suppressed anger flared again. “Not speaking? Do you want another round?” I stopped. I raised my hand and slapped him directly across the face with every ounce of strength I had left. My throat was raw and shredded from screaming. “If you love Sienna so much, go be her mate.” “I hate you.” The slap did not even leave a mark on his jaw. But my own palm burned like it had been pierced by a thousand needles. Still, Gideon froze. I had never raised a hand to him in my entire life. He was so shocked he forgot to grab me. He just darkened his expression and threw one last threat at my back. “You are making a huge mistake, Aria!” My chest felt hollow. I shoved past the doorframe and stumbled out into the cold air, dragging my broken body back to my own little hut. I had not slept there since Gideon brought Sienna in to break me. Thank the gods, my things were still there. I dug through a dusty pile in the corner and pulled out a small wooden carving of a coiled snake. It was given to me by a boy from the Viper Scale Clan during my first few weeks in this world. He had shadowed me for days. No matter where I went, he was there, completely ignoring Gideon’s lethal glares. But I was terrified of snakes. The moment I looked into his vertical, golden irises, I would start hyperventilating. I could not even bear to stand near him. When he realized my fear was genuine, his eyes lost their light. He stopped following me after that. But before he vanished, he pressed this wooden carving into my hand. He told me that if I ever needed a way out, all I had to do was snap the wood in half. He would find me within three days. I took it in a daze back then and hid it from Gideon. I never thought the day would actually come where I would need it. Compared to the slithering monsters I used to fear, looking at Gideon’s face was infinitely worse. I traced the grooves of the wooden snake with my thumb. Then, without a second thought, I snapped it in two. Staring at the broken pieces, a wave of profound relief washed over me. I started gathering whatever I could carry. It was not much. A few worn-out tunics. Some cheap bone trinkets. Ever since Sienna showed up, Gideon had stopped bringing me gifts. Even the fresh kills and the sweet berries he used to gather just for me were now handed directly to her. He was acting more like her mate than mine. But it did not matter now. Three days. I just had to survive three more days. Goodbye, Gideon. Actually, no. See you never. I was just letting out a shaky breath when Sienna strolled through my door. She looked at my bruised, pathetic state, a nasty smirk playing on her lips. And then, she said something that made my blood run cold. “For a girl from Earth, you are incredibly useless.” 3 I stared at her, deadpan, and kept my mouth shut. I had suspected she was a modern girl from the moment she arrived in the Wildlands. I just did not expect her to waltz in and confess it to my face. Sienna crossed her arms, her eyes dripping with contempt. “Gideon is the strongest Alpha in the pack. You do not deserve him.” “I only agreed to train you because we came from the same world. I was doing you a favor. Do not be an ungrateful bitch.” I looked at her calmly. “If you want him, take him. I do not want the garbage you’re fighting over.” The second the words left my mouth, the wooden door slammed open. Gideon stood in the frame, his face looking like a thundercloud. Sienna did not miss a beat. Her arrogant smirk vanished, instantly replaced by her usual easygoing, ‘one-of-the-boys’ persona. She turned to Gideon, sighing heavily. “I brought her some healing herbs because I was worried she was upset. I had no idea she hated me this much.” She spun a perfect web of victimhood, completely erasing the fact that she had just cornered me. I did not know how much Gideon had heard, and I did not care. I went back to packing my meager belongings. Gideon stormed in, grabbed my sore wrist, and barked a command. “Apologize to Sienna.” His grip sent fresh waves of agony radiating through my battered skin. This time, I did not cry. I did not beg. I just looked at his chest and asked quietly. “Why should I?” Gideon’s jaw clenched. “She spent three years trying to help you. She put her heart and soul into training you, and you treat her like dirt. Apologize.” “Do not make me ask twice.” A broken laugh escaped my lips. He actually believed it. He genuinely believed that the beatings, the starvation, and the constant humiliation of the past three years were a blessing. Seeing me laugh instead of obeying made his anger boil over. He squeezed my wrist tighter, threatening to snap the bone. The pain was excruciating. I knew his game. He was trying to physically force me into submission. Sienna stood safely behind his broad shoulders, flashing me a triumphant grin. I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood, refusing to make a single sound. Gideon was about to shout again when something on the dusty wooden table caught his eye. He let go of me instantly. He walked over and picked up the two halves of the wooden snake. When he turned back to me, his eyes were lethal. “What is this?” I smiled faintly. “Isn’t it obvious? It is my ticket out of here. My invitation to the Serpent Basin.” Gideon’s face contorted. He stared at the carving, then at me. A heavy, suffocating silence filled the hut before he let out a dark sneer. He dropped the wood onto the dirt floor and crushed it into splinters beneath his heavy boot. Then, he grabbed me by the hair and dragged me out the door. “Sienna was right! I went too easy on you. Three years of training and you are still a worthless brat!” “You want to go to the snakes? Fine! Let me help you!” He hauled me up the rocky path toward the dark caves at the back of the mountain and violently shoved me inside. “This cavern is a nesting ground for the serpents. If you can survive in here for three days, I will walk you to their territory myself!” I stared at him in absolute horror. I never thought he could be this monstrous. The heavy wooden gates slammed shut. The lock clicked. From the pitch-black depths of the cavern came the wet, sickening sound of scales sliding against stone. Then came the hissing. The sounds multiplied, drawing closer. My whole body began to shake violently. Terror hijacked my brain. I threw myself against the wooden bars, sobbing hysterically as I begged the man standing outside. “Please, let me out!” “You know I am terrified of them! Gideon, please, please let me out!” My screams bounced off the cave walls. I was losing my mind, completely paralyzed by the primal fear gripping my chest. Gideon just stood there in the daylight, his arms crossed, his lips curled in a mocking sneer. “I thought you wanted to join them? If you cannot even handle a few garden snakes, how do you expect to survive there?” A piercing scream ripped from my throat as something cold and muscular slithered over my bare ankle. Then another wrapped around my thigh, making its way up toward my waist. “No! Gideon, please do not do this to me!” I shrieked like a madwoman. Sharp fangs sank into my calf. The fiery venom mixed with the absolute terror, breaking my mind into pieces. Gideon turned his back and walked away. No matter how much I screamed, he never once looked back. He kept his word. He locked me in that nightmare for three entire days. On the first day, he came to check on me. I was curled in a fetal position on the damp stone, half-dead from the venom and shock. He mocked me through the bars. “Look at you. You really thought they would take you? They would not even let a pathetic thing like you cross their borders.” On the second day, he stood outside the gate, his voice colder than winter ice. “If you admit you were wrong and promise to apologize to Sienna, I will let you out early.” I did not even look at him. I just pulled my knees tighter against my chest, shivering uncontrollably. If my counting was right, tomorrow was the third day. The next morning, before Gideon arrived, a familiar figure materialized in the dim light. Vertical, golden irises. He dropped to his knees and pulled my bruised, freezing body into a desperate embrace. His voice shook with heartbreak. “I am so sorry. I am late. Are you ready to leave with me?” I blinked through my swollen eyelids and smiled. “Take me away.” When Gideon finally unlocked the cavern later that day, all he found was empty space. And lying in the dirt, abandoned like trash, was the blood-stained wolf-tooth necklace he had given me the day we mated.

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1 The metal-on-metal screech of the collision still echoed in my ears. By the time we were rushed to the emergency room, Diana’s husband was already there, pacing the sterile hallway with their little girl piggybacked on his shoulders. “Why did you bring her out?” Diana gasped, her voice thick with panic. “She’s still running a fever…” Her tone was accusatory, but the frantic terror in her eyes instantly melted into relief the moment she looked at him. She had her anchor. Then her gaze drifted to me, sitting alone on a gurney with an IV line dripping into my vein. A flicker of confusion crossed her face. “Audrey, is your husband not coming?” I squeezed my phone, forcing a dry smile. “He’s probably asleep by now.” It had taken nearly forty minutes from the crash site to the hospital. In that time, I had called Javon twenty-five times. Every single call went straight to a busy signal. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Nine to eleven every night was Javon’s dedicated slot for reading bedtime stories to Bianca. Aside from a mild concussion and two stitches right above my eyebrow, I was fine, but the doctor wanted me kept overnight for observation. I sent Javon a text letting him know I was staying at the hospital. By noon the next day, it still sat there, unread. I stared at the screen for a long time before clicking it black. “Diana,” I said softly, looking over at my boss. “Is my old position at the New York office still open?” Diana nearly jumped off her exam table, her eyes wide with shock. “Audrey, you’re finally letting this go?” Yes. Three years. It was long past time to wake up. Javon and I had stayed in New York after graduation, building our lives and planning to settle down there permanently. But three years ago, he suddenly insisted we move back to Denver, buy a house, and finally get married. Drunk on the illusion of our happily-ever-after, I agreed without a second thought. But the night before we were supposed to wire the down payment on our dream house, Javon broke down. Tears streaming down his face, he claimed a bad investment had wiped out his entire savings. The catch was, I had put up two-thirds of that money myself, pouring every single penny of my hard-earned savings into his account. “The venture was supposed to be a sure thing,” he had sobbed, kneeling on the living room floor while I sat frozen on the bed. “I just wanted to make a little extra so I could give you the beautiful wedding you deserve.” He spent the night kneeling in the dark living room, and I spent it staring at the wall. When the sun came up, we put our dreams on hold and signed a lease on a cramped rental. We lived there for three years. It was only much later that I discovered Bianca lived in our very building. Her apartment had been bought in full, cash upfront. And it was the exact unit Javon and I had chosen. It was past six in the evening when I finally made it back to our rental. The text from the night before remained unread. As I fumbled in my purse for my keys, the front door swung open from the inside. “I’d recognize that cheap plastic rattle anywhere,” Javon said, poking his head out. His eyes flicked over the bandage on my forehead, his expression shifting slightly. “What happened to your head? When did that happen?” He stepped back into the entryway, kicking off his shoes. His voice was utterly casual, as if he were asking if I’d gotten a haircut. “How long has it been since you checked your phone?” I asked, my fingers unclasping the mini acrylic keychain from my ring. Inside was a tiny, faded photo booth picture of the two of us from college. “What, did you text me?” Javon finally pulled his phone from his pocket, scrolling through his notifications. “Oh. Right. Ten o’clock last night. I was occupied then, Audrey. You know how it is.” Oh, I knew. Three months ago, Bianca had watched a horror movie and claimed she was too traumatized to sleep. To soothe her fragile nerves, Javon had designated nine to eleven every night as her exclusive window. He would call her on the dot, whispering bedtime stories until she drifted off. “Next time you need something, you should let me know beforehand,” he murmured. “So you’re saying I should have scheduled my car crash in advance?” I asked, my voice dry. “Maybe booked a slot on your calendar between her bedtime stories?” Javon finally realized how incredibly callous he sounded. His hand slid off the doorknob, and he turned to wrap his arms around me, pulling me into a soft, familiar embrace. “Honey, I’m so sorry. I messed up this time. But the doctor said Bianca’s anxiety is finally under control. She should be able to fall asleep on her own starting next week. After that, my time is all yours, okay?” In three years, he had made variations of that promise a thousand times, and broken them a thousand more. As he spoke, I felt one of his hands leave my back. He was checking his watch. Sure enough, before I could even reply, he released me. “But just for tonight, sweetheart, be the bigger person. Let me slide out for a couple of hours. Bianca’s ginger cat hasn’t been able to use the litter box in three days, and she’s panicking. I promised I’d drive them to the vet.” When my period cramps got so bad I shivered and threw up on the bathroom floor, the most I ever got from him was a muttered “drink some warm water.” Once, he had even joked, “You grew up on a farm, babe. How is your system more fragile than a delicate city girl like Bianca?” I wanted to laugh back then. I wanted to laugh now. Bianca didn’t have to work a day in her life, pampered with organic green juices and luxury spa days. Meanwhile, I was working seventy-hour weeks, fueling myself on greasy takeout and cheap coffee, desperately trying to rebuild the savings he had lost. No matter how strong my constitution had been, it was bound to crumble under that weight. Seeing my silence, Javon took my face in his hands, pressing a gentle, performative kiss right below my bandage. “I’ll bring you some warm soup on my way back tonight, okay? A little scratch like this will heal in no time.” Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed his jacket and rushed out the door. Two seconds later, there was a sharp knock. He cracked the door open. “Oh, honey, can you take the trash out when you get a chance?” Then came the chime of the elevator doors opening. There were four bags of garbage sitting in the hallway. Three of them belonged to Bianca. Javon had once told me that hauling heavy trash bags didn’t suit someone like Bianca, and since I went downstairs for work every morning anyway, it was only logical for me to carry them. I stood in front of the hallway mirror, touching the medical tape near my eye. A bitter laugh escaped my throat. The “little scratch” he dismissed so easily was barely half an inch from my eyeball. I swallowed a sip of water, picked up my phone, and typed out a text to him: What does Bianca’s keychain sound like then? Ding. It was an instant reply. Mine has a little golden pig and a bunch of Swarovski crystals on it, so it makes a really bright, pretty chime. Javon is driving right now, so his hands are full. A cold, hollow ache spread through my chest, accompanied by the burning humiliation of an intruder caught in the act. Before I could lock my screen, the phone buzzed again. This time, it was a five-second video. In the frame, a plump ginger cat was curled up on a pair of bare, fair legs. A man’s hand, Javon’s hand, was lazily scratching the cat’s chin, his knuckles brushing against her soft thighs with every stroke. In the background, smooth jazz was playing. It was Bianca’s favorite genre. Whenever I rode in Javon’s car, he never let me play my playlist. He said my indie rock lacked class and “ruined the vibe of the car.” My thumb hovered over the keyboard. I deleted the draft. Why was I even wasting my energy on a damn keychain? I put the phone face down on the counter and stepped into the bathroom. The grime of the hospital still clung to my skin, making me itch. I stripped off my clothes, only to realize I’d forgotten to grab a waterproof shower cap. I couldn’t get my stitches wet. I reached for my usual bath towel to wrap myself up and go look for one, but the hook was bare. In fact, the entire towel rack was empty. Shivering, I remembered there might be a spare shower cap in the bathroom cabinet. I pulled open the cabinet door and froze. The shelves had been completely remodeled. Gone were my bulk packs of drugstore soap and shampoo. In their place stood rows of high-end French skincare, luxury hair oils, and imported body washes, the exact brands Bianca used. This cabinet was my storage space, somewhere I only opened once or twice a month to restock. I had opened it just a week ago, and it had been fine. A sick, sinking feeling settled deep in my stomach. I took a rushed, awkward shower, keeping my head tilted back, then dried off with a hand towel before calling Javon. This time, he picked up on the third ring. “Yes?” his voice was clipped, as mechanical as an automated teller. “Where is my bath towel?” I asked, my voice flat. “And why is the bathroom cabinet filled with luxury skincare?” Even though Bianca had a spare key to our apartment, I had convinced myself she had never crossed the line of staying over. “How should I know where your towel is?” Javon sighed, his impatience bleeding through the speaker. “And as for the cabinet, Bianca’s water heater broke last week, so she used our shower. She has sensitive skin and couldn’t use your cheap stuff, so I picked up a few things for her. It’s no big deal.” His speech was rapid, a telltale sign of his anxiety, punctuated by the soft meow of a cat in the background. Suddenly, a sweet, sing-song voice chimed in from near the phone. “Audrey! Your old towel had a literal hole in it! I ordered you a beautiful new one from Italy, but it’s going to take a couple of days to arrive. I’ll bring it over when it gets here!” Bianca made sure to emphasize the word hole. “Look, if that’s all, I have to go. We’re busy. We’ll talk later,” Javon said, his tone sharp with irritation before the line went dead. I wondered if Javon realized that his words always tripped over themselves when he was trying to hide his shame. When we first moved to Denver, Javon used to bring me along to his college alumni gatherings. Back then, Bianca was the only person in his circle I knew, so I naturally clung to her. She took advantage of that, playing the role of my gracious guide while subtly shutting me out. Whenever someone asked me a question, she would jump in to answer for me under the guise of being helpful. She would casually drop details about how I grew up in a tiny, rural town, had never traveled outside the country, or didn’t understand luxury brands. Every time she did, Javon would frantically steer the conversation elsewhere, his words spilling out in a panicked rush. Eventually, even if other classmates invited me, Bianca would shut it down before I could speak. “Audrey works in R&D,” she would say with a sweet, patronizing smile. “She’s far too intellectual for our silly gossip and drinking games. Let’s not bore her.” After that, I was slowly excised from his social circle. When one of his close friends got married, the invitation was addressed to Javon alone. A sudden vibration startled me. It was Diana. “Audrey, the East Coast office is absolutely thrilled that you’re coming back,” she said, her professional tone warm with genuine excitement. “They’re putting together a relocation package: fully covered apartment, a company car, and immediate assistance with your city residency transfer. What day do you want to fly out?” “Book it for the day after tomorrow, around noon,” I replied without hesitation. I needed tomorrow to handle the divorce papers. I hung up and went to the bedroom to start packing. In the deepest drawer of the wardrobe, beneath a stack of documents, I pulled out a heavy wooden box. Inside were our memories. Javon and I had dated for five years and been married for three. To save every penny for our house, we had skipped the registry gifts, the wedding, and even the rings. The only physical proof of our history lay in a thick stack of cheap train tickets. There weren’t many, but I had painstakingly pasted them into a scrapbook, writing little notes beside each one. In college, we took the slowest overnight trains to save twenty dollars. But as long as I could rest my head on his shoulder, thirty hours on a hard, cramped seat felt like a luxury cruise. I turned the pages, my eyes burning with a sudden, stinging moisture. Then, a thicker, heavier envelope slipped out from the back of the drawer. I opened it, and dozens of first-class plane tickets and express rail passes spilled onto my lap. Every single one had Bianca’s name printed on it. My hands began to shake as I looked closer at the destinations. Paris. Maui. Kyoto. Every single place Javon and I had planned to go, but never did. With trembling fingers, I opened my phone and cross-referenced the dates on the tickets with my chat history with Javon. Every date that matched felt like a rusted nail driving deeper into my heart. For three years, every single one of his “urgent business trips” had been a romantic getaway with Bianca. There were cities I had practically begged him to visit with me. He had always brushed me off with the same tired excuses: I don’t have the PTO, Audrey. We’re an old married couple now, why are we trying to act like college kids? The most recent ticket stub was dated just two weeks ago. I remembered that week vividly. My mother had slipped in the bathroom and injured her back, and I had rushed back to my hometown to care for her. Even his mother had suggested Javon come with me to help with the heavy lifting. But Javon had claimed an unavoidable last-minute corporate retreat. I hadn’t pressed him. Now, staring at the first-class boarding pass to Aspen on that exact weekend, the truth sat heavy and bitter in my mouth. There was no retreat. I clutched the tickets, my eyes tracing the ink until the letters blurred. The click of the front lock snapped me out of my trance. I shoved the box back into the drawer, wiping my face. I realized with a strange, chilling clarity that I didn’t even want to confront him. It felt entirely pointless. Javon was in the kitchen when I walked out. He gestured casually to a plastic takeout container on the dining table. “Grabbed you that seafood chowder you love.” I popped the lid off. The smell of green onions and cilantro, two things I absolutely despised, hit me instantly. Floating in the watery broth was half a bitten-into scallop and a single, discarded shrimp head. “I assume this is Bianca’s favorite,” I said, snapping the lid back shut. My stomach churned with disgust. “She only had a few spoonfuls,” Javon called out, busy kneading dough at the counter, completely oblivious to my tone. “She’s not a big eater like you.” “A few spoonfuls?” I leaned against the doorframe. “If I recall, a single order of that luxury chowder comes with four whole scallops and eight jumbo shrimp. So she managed to eat all the seafood, leaving me the scraps? Funny how she has the budget for first-class trips but can’t seem to buy her own soup. She always has to take from someone else’s bowl.” Javon’s hands froze in the dough. A few tense seconds passed. He quietly swept the remaining green onions into the trash, putting on a sweet, placating smile. “I’m making those homemade pork buns you like for breakfast tomorrow.” When I didn’t smile back, he wiped his hands, took off his apron, and walked over to me. He wrapped his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder. “Look, I made a mistake, okay? I’m sorry, Audrey.” “Haven’t you been dying to buy a place of our own?” he whispered, kissing my neck. “Once the current project wraps up at the end of the month, my bonus will clear. Combined with what we’ve saved, we’ll have enough for a down payment. Let’s go look at that new development tomorrow, alright?” His sudden eagerness to buy a house surprised me. For three years, that house had been my absolute obsession, the carrot he dangled to keep me running. But I had already made my decision. The next morning, I met with my lawyer first, before meeting Javon at noon to look at the new properties. The new townhomes were beautiful, and the pricing was surprisingly reasonable. I did the math in my head: our combined salaries and bonuses over the past three years would easily cover the down payment. “What do you think? Do you love it?” Javon asked, his eyes shining with anticipation. “Trust me, Audrey. Everything is going to be perfect from now on.” Seeing the genuine hope in his eyes, a small, foolish part of me wavered. On the drive back, my phone rang. It was his mother. “Audrey, dear, are you guys home?” her voice was warm and motherly. “I brought over some fresh produce from the countryside. I’m almost at your place.” “Hi, Mom. Javon and I actually just finished looking at a new townhouse. We’ll be back in about ten minutes.” “Oh… looking at houses?” There was a sharp, sudden catch in her voice, followed by a flurry of nervous rustling. “That’s… that’s wonderful. I’ll just wait inside for you two.” But as we approached the apartment door, the heavy mahogany was thin enough to let a sharp, furious voice cut straight through. “Buying a house? Javon, where on earth are you getting the money for a house?” his mother was practically screeching inside. “If you hadn’t secretly taken Audrey’s hard-earned savings to buy Bianca her apartment, you two would have settled down three years ago! If Audrey ever finds out what you did with her money, she’ll divorce you on the spot!” The investment failure was a lie. He had taken my life savings to buy Bianca a home. No wonder he had always shut down whenever I brought up our lost money. Though it was mid-July, a bone-chilling cold swept through my veins. “Mom, relax,” Javon’s voice drifted through, dripping with smug confidence. “Even if the world ended, Audrey would never divorce me. She’s too invested in this.” “Son, just tell me the truth,” his mother lowered her voice, though it still carried. “How much cash do you actually have left?” “Mom, that money is completely off-limits,” Javon snapped, his tone instantly turning defensive. “That’s Bianca’s wedding dowry. I’m saving it for her.” “What kind of hold does that girl have over you?” his mother groaned. “You bought her a house, and now you’re paying for her future marriage dowry? Have you completely forgotten that Audrey is your actual wife?” “Mom, I haven’t forgotten,” Javon sighed, sounding utterly reasonable. “Audrey and I have a lifetime together. She can wait. But Bianca is different. When she came back after her divorce, she was completely shattered. She needed that security way more than Audrey did. Besides, as a divorcée, she needs a substantial dowry if she’s ever going to marry well again without being looked down upon.” “So in your eyes, I’m the one who’s built to take the hits?” I pushed the door open, my voice cutting through the air like dry ice. His mother gasped, her face draining of color as she forced a terrified, guilty smile. “Audrey! Sweetheart, how long have you been standing there?” “It doesn’t matter anymore,” I said, walking past her. I looked directly at Javon, my voice dead calm. “Javon, I want every single dollar you stole from my savings back in my account by tonight.” “Audrey, let’s not get dramatic,” Javon said, his eyes narrowing as defensive anger took over. “We’re married. My money is yours, and yours is mine. You’re talking like I’m some kind of thief.” “That money was my premarital property,” I replied, my voice steady. “If you don’t return it, my lawyer will see you in court.” “Fine,” Javon sneered, crossing his arms. “I’ll return the money. But it comes with a divorce.” He looked at me with smug satisfaction, confident he had the upper hand. “Audrey, think about it. We’ve been together for eight years. You gave up a massive promotion in New York to follow me to this city. Was all of that just to throw it away over a little disagreement? If you divorce me, you walk away with nothing but wasted years. And what about your family back in that tiny town of yours? A divorced woman returning home… the town gossip alone will ruin your parents.” “I agree,” I said, pulling a folded document from my purse and laying it on the coffee table. “Let’s divorce. Sign it.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “462281”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was stationed in Africa for eight months on a relief project. I flew back specifically for the holidays, hoping to surprise my wife. Instead, my cousin sent me a screenshot. It was my wife’s social media post, one she had specifically blocked me from seeing. She was three months pregnant. When I confronted her about whose kid it was, she had the audacity to claim her company was doing massive layoffs and this was just a “strategic pregnancy” to save her job. I told her to get rid of it or I was filing for divorce. I never imagined that she and my best friend of ten years would actually conspire to murder my mother. I dragged them to court and made sure they got locked away. As for that bastard child? Let him grow up behind bars. 1 I landed on Christmas Eve. As the Director of Research and Development for a medical device company, I had been stationed in Africa for eight long months to support the construction of a field hospital. I came back early just to give my wife, Serena, a surprise. I kept my flight details a secret. All I wanted was to drape that diamond necklace she had been eyeing for months around her neck right before the clock struck midnight. The airport was a sea of twinkling fairy lights and pine garlands. Mariah Carey’s voice echoed endlessly over the speakers. I dragged my suitcase through the terminal, exhausted to the bone but burning with anticipation. The moment I turned off airplane mode, my phone blew up. It was a flood of “Merry Christmas” texts. But one message in my family WhatsApp group stood out like a bleeding wound. My cousin Zoe had posted a screenshot with a caption. “Looks like Serena has a bun in the oven! You kept that a secret, Victor!” The screenshot was from Serena’s Instagram. It showed an ultrasound scan and a mirror selfie of her cradling a slightly swollen belly. The background was the floor-to-ceiling window of our master bedroom. The caption read: “A little Christmas miracle. You are the best gift heaven could give me. Fourteen weeks.” A loud ringing filled my ears. It felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over my head in the freezing winter air. Eight months. I had been gone for eight months. Because of a severe viral outbreak lockdown in the region, I had not been home a single time. She was three and a half months pregnant. Whose child was that? My fingers trembled as I clicked into Serena’s profile. Blank. There was nothing but an empty grid and a message saying her posts were hidden from me. It was a mocking scar across the screen. She had specifically blocked me from seeing that post. If Zoe had not taken a screenshot to fish for holiday gossip, I would still be completely in the dark. I took a deep breath, fighting the urge to call her and scream. Instead, I hailed a cab and headed straight home. Outside the window, fireworks burst against the night sky, but my heart was sinking to the bottom of the ocean. I pushed the front door open. The heating was turned all the way up, making the air thick and stifling. In the entryway, next to Serena’s pink fluffy slippers, sat a pair of men’s leather shoes. They were not my size. The television in the living room was playing a holiday special, the canned laughter echoing hollowly through the empty first floor. No one was there. Faint giggles drifted down from the second-floor master bedroom. I softened my footsteps and slowly walked up the stairs. The bedroom door was cracked open. Serena’s sweet, breathy voice floated out. “Oh, Declan, be gentle. The doctor said we need to be careful during the first trimester.” “What are you afraid of? My boy is tough.” The man’s voice was deep, familiar, and dripping with sleaze. “Serena, this ‘strategic pregnancy’ idea of yours is pure genius. Those old fools at the board definitely won’t dare touch you now.” “Of course. Corporate is slashing jobs left and right. If I didn’t get pregnant, how else could I secure my spot as a partner? Besides…” Serena paused, her tone turning venomous. “With this get-out-of-jail-free card, even if that other little mess blows up, I can file for medical furlough and avoid doing any real time.” I kicked the door wide open. The two figures on the bed sprang apart like they had been electrocuted. Serena, wearing a sheer silk nightgown, frantically pulled the duvet up to cover her chest. Her face drained of all color. The man standing by the bed was Declan. He was my childhood best friend, the foster kid my mother had taken in and raised alongside me. “Victor?!” Serena’s voice violently shook. “What are you doing here? You said you weren’t coming back for another two weeks!” Declan was much calmer. He lazily buttoned his dress shirt, a mocking smirk playing on his lips. “Well, well. If it isn’t our hometown hero. I guess the malaria mosquitoes over there didn’t finish the job.” I kept my eyes glued to the slight curve of Serena’s stomach. My throat felt like it was lined with broken glass. “Whose is it?” Serena’s eyes darted around the room, refusing to look at me. “The… the company is doing massive layoffs. You know the influencer marketing industry is struggling right now. This is… this is a strategic pregnancy.” “I asked you whose it is!” I grabbed my heavy suitcase and slammed it into the hardwood floor. The deafening crash made Serena flinch. “Does it even matter whose it is?” Her eyes welled with fake tears as she suddenly started screaming at me, playing the victim. “Victor, you left for over half a year! You left me alone to deal with all the corporate backstabbing. Do you have any idea how hard it has been for me? Declan has been the only one helping me. If I didn’t do this, I would have lost my job! I did this to keep my leverage in this house. You don’t even care about what I went through, and the second you walk in, you yell at me?” The sheer audacity of her logic was nauseating. “For your job? For your leverage?” I let out a dry, bitter laugh and pointed at Declan. “So you climbed into my best friend’s bed? You used my money to fund your little affair?” “Watch your mouth, Victor.” Declan stepped forward, shielding Serena, and shoved me hard in the chest. “Serena is pregnant. She cannot handle stress right now. Yeah, the kid is mine, but legally, he will have your last name. You should be thanking me. I saved your wife’s career, and I gave your dead-end bloodline an heir.” I stared at the two parasitic monsters standing in front of me, bile rising in my throat. Just then, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was my mother’s private physician. “Victor! It is an emergency! Your mother had a massive cerebral hemorrhage. She is in the ICU. The police are at the hospital too. They said… they said her company is involved in a massive tax fraud scheme. They are waiting to arrest her!” 2 The hospital at night felt like an isolated island forgotten by the rest of the world. Police officers stood guard outside the ICU, their expressions grim and exhausted. “You are Victor, correct?” The lead detective slid a manila folder across the sterile waiting room table. His tone was strictly business. “Regarding your mother, Eleanor. She is the prime suspect in a five-million-dollar tax evasion and corporate fraud case. The evidence chain is airtight. The money was funneled into an untraceable offshore account. As the legal representative of the company, she holds full criminal liability.” Five million dollars. My mother had run that medical export business for thirty years. She was so meticulous she would not even let a ten-dollar receipt go unaccounted for. There was absolutely no way she scammed anyone out of five million dollars. “That is impossible.” I gripped the folder so hard my knuckles turned white. “My mother barely knows how to use a smartphone. She has no idea how to operate offshore accounts! The company’s finances have always been handled by…” Before I could finish, the elevator doors chimed open. Serena stepped out, her arm intimately looped through Declan’s. She was wearing a vibrant, cherry-red winter coat. In a corridor reeking of bleach and death, that color was sickeningly loud. Her makeup was flawless. She had even touched up her lipstick. There was not a single trace of worry on her face. “Victor, don’t give the detectives a hard time.” Serena rested a hand on her pregnant belly, her tone dripping with the condescending pity of a victor. “Mom is getting old and confused. She probably just wanted to stash some cash away for your future. She must have signed those bogus contracts in a moment of greed.” “You signed them, didn’t you?” I took a step toward her, my eyes burning into hers. “My mom’s cataracts got severely worse over the last six months. She could not read a thing. You were the one reading all her documents to her. You told her where to sign!” Serena instinctively shrank behind Declan, her eyes shifting. “Do not slander me! The handwriting analysts already confirmed it. It is her exact signature. Look, I am pregnant. I cannot handle this kind of shock. If something happens to my baby, can you afford the medical bills?” Declan stepped in front of her, that greasy, triumphant smirk returning to his face. He leaned in and lowered his voice so the cops could not hear. “Give it a rest, Victor. Serena is untouchable right now. Under the law, a pregnant woman, even if indicted, gets bail and medical furlough. She doesn’t see the inside of a cell. This kid is her golden ticket.” A bomb went off in my head. The “strategic pregnancy” was never about saving her corporate job. It was about finding a scapegoat. They had planned this from the very beginning. They drained the company dry, pinned the five million dollars on my mother, and then used Serena’s pregnancy to dodge prison. They were going to walk away rich and completely free. “You sick, twisted animals…” I swung my fist, but a police officer immediately grabbed my arm and pinned it behind my back. “This is a hospital! Back off and calm down!” Right at that moment, the heavy ICU doors pushed open. The attending surgeon walked out, his scrubs soaked in sweat. He pulled down his mask and slowly shook his head. “We did everything we could. The intracranial bleeding was simply too severe. Combined with the fact that she had not taken her heart medication for days… You should go in and say your final goodbyes.” In that split second, my entire universe collapsed. The distant sound of Christmas bells outside morphed into a deafening ring of static in my ears. I shoved past everyone and ran into the room. On the bed, the iron-willed businesswoman who had raised me looked like a fragile, crumpled piece of paper. Tubes and wires snaked out of her frail body. She forced her eyes open. Her cloudy gaze drifted past me and locked onto the glaring red coat standing by the doorway. Her trembling, wrinkled hand slowly lifted, pointing a shaking finger directly at Serena. Her lips moved frantically, trying to form words, but all that came out was a wet, suffocating wheeze. The jagged green line on the heart monitor suddenly flattened into a piercing, continuous tone. The early hours of Christmas morning. While the rest of the world was wrapped in the warmth of family, my mother died, taking the blame for a crime she never committed. I turned my head. Serena was still standing by the door. I clearly saw her let out a long, heavy sigh of relief. She then exchanged a knowing look with Declan. There was no grief in her eyes. Only victory. Her gaze said it all: Dead men tell no tales. They were safe. 3 The funeral was held a few days later, right before the New Year. Because of the looming fraud scandal and the media circus surrounding it, the usually packed memorial hall was terrifyingly empty. All of her former business partners avoided us like the plague. I knelt by the casket, mechanically tossing paper tributes into the small brass fire pit. The flames licked the frigid air, but they could not melt the absolute ice in my veins. Suddenly, a loud, obnoxious commotion shattered the silence. “Hey guys! Smash that like button and subscribe! Today we are bringing you exclusive live coverage of the fraudster’s funeral!” “This is the scammer who stole five million dollars! She might be dead, but debt does not just disappear!” I whipped my head around. Serena and Declan were marching down the aisle with a massive entourage. Alongside Serena’s snobby, materialistic mother, there were at least seven or eight local TikTokers and vloggers holding ring lights and stabilizers. They swarmed the hall like a pack of starving hyenas smelling blood. They shoved their camera lenses right up to my mother’s memorial portrait and loudly critiqued the floral arrangements. “Get the hell out!” I grabbed a heavy wooden ceremonial staff and charged at them, my eyes bloodshot. “This is a funeral! Not a backdrop for your pathetic clout chasing!” “Oh, look who is getting aggressive.” Declan stepped up and blocked my path, playing the victim perfectly for the cameras. “Serena is the daughter-in-law. She is carrying the first grandchild of this family. She is just here to pay her respects. Instead of figuring out how to pay back the people your mother robbed, you want to assault a pregnant woman?” Serena was wearing a custom-tailored black maternity dress that looked ridiculously expensive. She had done her makeup to look incredibly pale and vulnerable. The moment the lenses pointed at her, her eyes brimmed with perfectly timed tears. “Guys, I am just so heartbroken. Yes, my mother-in-law did terrible things, but she is still family. I came here to help make amends. Please do not cyberbully my husband. He is just lashing out because he cannot handle the truth…” Her acting was so flawless it belonged in Hollywood. The live chat on the phones instantly flooded with comments: “Protect Serena at all costs!” “Such a beautiful, strong mom.” “That guy is a violent psycho.” Serena’s mother immediately collapsed onto the floor, slapping her thighs and wailing theatrically. “Oh, Lord in heaven! My poor pregnant daughter comes to pay her respects, and they want to beat her! Where is the justice? Your mother got what she deserved, Victor! Are you trying to bully a defenseless pregnant girl?” My knuckles cracked as I gripped the wooden staff. I wanted nothing more than to smash their skulls in right then and there. But I knew I could not. There were a dozen cameras broadcasting live. If I took a single swing, the label of “Violent Abuser” and “Wife Beater” would be permanently cemented to my name. Seeing me hold back, Declan grew even more arrogant. He pulled a crisp legal document from his tailored jacket and slapped it loudly against the memorial altar. “Victor, we didn’t just come to mourn. We came for business. This is Eleanor’s final will.” Declan waved the paper in the air. “The company might be bankrupt, but your mother still had a few prime real estate properties and trust funds in her name. The will states clearly: everything goes to the unborn child in Serena’s womb.” I stared coldly at the so-called will. The signature looked perfectly like my mother’s. But the date on the document was from the exact month her vision had deteriorated so badly she could not even read large print. “That will is forged.” “It is fully notarized. You think you can fight that?” Declan sneered. “Victor, the house you are living in right now is part of the estate. I need you packed and out by the end of the week. We need to prepare the nursery for Serena. The feng shui there is perfect for raising a baby.” They wanted to move the murderers into the victim’s home to raise their bastard child? It was the ultimate desecration. They were grinding my dignity into the dirt. “Fine.” I took a deep, shuddering breath, dropped the wooden staff, and let my eyes go completely dead. “Take the house. Take the money.” Serena and Declan exchanged a surprised look. They clearly did not expect me to fold that easily. “Glad you finally understand your place.” Serena dabbed at her dry eyes with a tissue. She stepped close, leaning in to whisper directly into my ear. “Accept your fate, Victor. You cannot beat us. This baby is my absolute shield. As long as he is in my belly, there is nothing you can do to me.” I looked at her face, slightly twisted by overwhelming greed, and the very last shred of affection I ever held for her turned to ash. “We will see about that.” 4 I moved into a cheap, rundown motel downtown. On the surface, I spent my days drinking heavily. I posted depressing, self-pitying quotes on my social media, painting the perfect picture of a broken, defeated man who had given up on life. In reality, it was a smokescreen. I needed them to lower their guard. I knew Serena too well. She was greedy, but careless. Declan was ruthless, but arrogant. They thought that because my mother was dead, all the evidence died with her. But they forgot one crucial detail. I used to be the lead engineer for our tech company. And I was still my mother’s son. My mother did not understand modern technology, but she had a habit she kept for thirty years: she always kept meticulous records. Not in a ledger, but in a place they would never think to look. While Serena and Declan were busy moving into my family home and throwing lavish parties, I secretly contacted Martha, our housekeeper of ten years. Martha had always despised Serena’s entitled attitude. “Victor, honey. I got the thing you asked for.” In the dim corner of a quiet diner, Martha handed me a heavy, wrapped package. Her eyes were red and swollen. “Your mother didn’t deserve this. Victor… the night she died, I saw Declan kick her pill bottle under the sofa…” My heart violently clenched. I took the package. Inside was a vintage bronze mantel clock. My late father had bought it at an auction years ago, and it had always sat dead-center on the bookshelf in my mother’s home office. Serena always complained it looked ugly and tried to throw it out multiple times, but my mother fiercely protected it. Because it was not just a clock. I flipped the heavy bronze base over and unscrewed a tiny, hidden bolt. With a soft click, the bottom panel popped open. Resting inside the hollow cavity was a high-grade audio recorder and a high-capacity SD card. It was part of the “home security grid” I had custom-built for my mom. She didn’t know how to access cloud servers, but she knew that as long as this clock was running, it recorded everything that happened in that office. My hands shook as I shoved the SD card into my laptop. Hundreds of video and audio files popped up. I clicked on the one with the most recent timestamp. The video was a top-down angle. The lighting was slightly dim, but the audio was crystal clear. In the background, my mother was coughing violently. “Mom, just sign it. Once the five million is moved offshore, the company dodges the audit. This is all for Victor’s future,” Serena’s voice coaxed sweetly. “No… This is illegal! If that money leaves the country, it is never coming back! What are you two trying to do?” “Listen, you old bat, we are doing you a favor,” Declan’s voice suddenly cut in. Then came the sound of a physical struggle. In the frame, my mother was violently shoved onto the leather sofa. She clutched her chest, her face turning a sickly shade of purple. Her trembling hand reached desperately toward the small bottle of heart pills resting on the coffee table. “Pills… help…” A foot wearing a designer stiletto stepped into the frame. It casually kicked the pill bottle. The plastic bottle rolled across the hardwood floor, disappearing out of the camera’s view, sliding deep under the sofa. “Oh no, the pills fell,” Serena said, her voice as light and bubbly as if she were discussing brunch. “Declan, look how far they rolled. She cannot possibly reach them now.” “Then let her crawl for them. Are you going to sign it? If not, just die!” Declan spat ruthlessly. In the video, my mother writhed in agony. Her fingernails scratched against the leather sofa, making a horrifying, desperate sound. Minutes passed until she finally stopped moving. Serena casually picked up the prepared legal documents, grabbed my mother’s stiffening hand, and pressed her thumb onto the ink pad to stamp the papers. “Is she completely dead?” “Pretty much. Call 911. Let’s put on a show.” The video ended. I clamped my jaw so hard I tasted the metallic tang of blood in my mouth. Tears were streaming down my face, blurring the laptop screen. This was not a white-collar financial crime. This was murder. Cold-blooded, premeditated murder. But releasing this video to the police right now was not enough. Serena was pregnant, and she had successfully weaponized public sympathy. If I went to the cops, Declan might take the fall, but Serena would use her medical condition to delay trial or claim the video was doctored. They could still escape with millions. I needed to completely annihilate them. I needed to wait until they were at the absolute peak of their arrogance, and then burn their lives to the ground. Right then, a notification popped up on my phone. Trend Alert: Lifestyle influencer Serena to host a massive Valentine’s Day Charity Gala. She will address the inheritance rumors and launch her new organic supplement line: “Mother’s Glow.” Valentine’s Day. What a perfect date. Since you two love putting on a show, I will give you the grand finale of a lifetime.

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1 At my eighteenth birthday party, Mom gifted her adopted daughter twenty percent of the company’s shares. I, on the other hand, received nothing but a cheap, laminated Model Daughter certificate. My eyes stung, and the lump in my throat made it hard to breathe. I couldn’t help but look at my mother and ask, “Mom, is this stock transfer agreement actually real?” But in the next second, right in front of all the high-society guests, my mother lashed out at me. “Marsha, you are my biological daughter. You need to keep your distance so people don’t whisper about favoritism!” Then, the glowing comments drifted across my vision again. [If the FL just swallows her pride and apologizes, her mom will hand over thirty percent of the shares instantly! The contract is already signed and waiting!] [Don’t be so stubborn, baby! Just give her a sweet smile and call her Mom. She would give you her whole heart if you just asked.] [Ugh, I live for the daughter-pleasing-mother trope. It is a total mutual-healing vibe!] Mom had always been like this, playing hard to get, desperate for my submission on the inside. And every time before, I had followed the comments’ advice to appease her. But now, I was done playing the eager-to-please puppet. I looked at my mother, whose eyes held a flicker of expectation, and said quietly, “Understood, Ms. Eikenberry. From now on, you only have one daughter, and her name is Lexi.” Mom froze, completely blindsided by my response. A collective gasp rippled through the ballroom as the guests began whispering furiously among themselves. “What is wrong with Marsha tonight? Did she lose her mind?” “How could she say something so heartless to Ms. Eikenberry? Her mother must be devastated.” Whether my mother was devastated or not, I did not care. I only knew that over the years, my own heart had been shattered into a million pieces. Mom always did this, hiding behind the excuse of fairness. “Marsha, you are my biological daughter. I cannot just hand you everything on a silver platter.” “Lexi is adopted. I have to show her extra care so she feels like she belongs.” When I first heard those words years ago, they felt like a knife to the chest. But then, the black text of the floating comments began to appear before my eyes. I followed their instructions, swallowing my pride and begging for her affection, and she would always reward me with exactly what I wanted. That was when it clicked. Mom did not actually hate me; she just wanted to break me. She wanted me to crawl, to beg, to play the submissive, grateful daughter. But I was exhausted. I was done playing her sick little game of emotional leverage. The comments flashed across my screen again. [What is wrong with the FL today? Why isn’t she kissing up to her mom?] [FL, go apologize right now! You can’t just bully your mother like this!] [Seeing the hurt on the mom’s face is making me tear up. Poor mom.] Reading the words, I instinctively looked up at the stage. Sure enough, Mom’s eyes were rimmed with red. Catching my gaze, she forced down her vulnerability and glared at me with icy resolve. “Marsha, what is the meaning of this? Are you cutting ties with me?” Before I could answer, Lexi glided over to my side. She looked stunning in her designer ballgown, the diamond necklace around her neck catching the crystal chandeliers’ light and glittering brilliantly. Yet, just a week ago, on my own eighteenth birthday, I wore a faded t-shirt and jeans. We had a simple, quiet dinner at home. “Marsha, Mom has money, but we shouldn’t be wasteful,” Lexi had whispered to me then. “Just the family celebrating is enough.” Except it was not a celebration for me at all. The dining table had been packed with Lexi’s favorite dishes. At the time, I thought Lexi was not getting a party either, so I kept my mouth shut. It was not until last night, when I accidentally found Lexi’s custom-made gown in her closet, that I realized Mom was planning a lavish, high-society debutante ball just for her. Lexi’s sweet, mocking voice brought me back to reality. “Marsha, please don’t break Mom’s heart. You are her real daughter!” “If you are upset about the shares, I can give them to you. I don’t mind giving them up.” Give them to me? A cold laugh escaped my lips. I was the biological daughter, yet I had to rely on the charity of an adopted sister. But Lexi was not lying. Everything I had ever received from Mom, through my tearful apologies and desperate pleading, had indeed been handed down after Lexi had her fill. The comments flared up again. [Lexi baby, that’s a gift from your mother. Do not give it away!] [The FL just needs to admit she’s wrong, and her mom will forgive her instantly.] [Apologize already! We are all waiting for the mother-daughter reconciliation arc!] I forced myself to ignore the text. Without glancing at Lexi, I turned on my heel and walked toward the exit. “Marsha Eikenberry! If you take one step out of this room, I will wash my hands of you!” I paused. I could hear the collective sigh of relief from the crowd. Turning my head back slightly, I saw the tension hidden beneath my mother’s mask of fury. Just as the comments said, she did care about me in her own twisted way. But I refused to play her game any longer. I looked at Lexi and offered a polite, empty smile. “Congratulations. You are now the only child of the Eikenberry family.” Then, I walked out without looking back. On the cab ride home, the comments kept spamming my vision. [Oh honey, you are breaking your mother’s heart!] [When you get home, plan a sweet surprise for her. Tell her it was all a joke and say you’re sorry. You have to apologize!] [FL, you can’t just rebel like this. I hate this kind of plot development!] They were just lines of floating text, but the sheer volume of them made my head throb. I closed my eyes, trying to block out the noise. This time, I was going to live for myself. But when I unlocked the front door, I was shocked to find Mom already waiting in the living room. The comments immediately flared up. [Look how much her mom cares. Her own daughter treated her like that, and her heart is bleeding.] [Hurry up and run into her arms, FL!] My resolve wavered. If she offered even a shred of warmth, a single word to ask me to stay, I knew I would break. I opened my mouth to speak, but Lexi came bouncing down the stairs. She shot me a smug, triumphant look, but when she turned to Mom, her voice was timid and trembling. “Mom… are you sure you want me to supervise Marsha?” Supervise? Before I could process the word, Mom’s voice, devoid of any warmth, cut through the air. “Yes. Keep a close eye on her.” “Since she wants to sever ties, let’s make it official.” “Watch her pack. She is only allowed to take her personal belongings. Nothing else.” The harsh reality slapped me in the face, freezing the warmth that had briefly flickered in my chest. Yet, the comments were still making excuses for her. [Apologize now! Your mom is just talking out of anger!] [You are her biological daughter. If you just soften your tone, she will forgive you in a heartbeat!] But being her biological daughter had never brought me peace, only a lifetime of silent suffering. I looked up, my gaze cold and dead. “I won’t take anything that belongs to the Eikenberrys.” Ignoring her burning gaze, I walked straight to my room. I pulled open my closet. Inside were rows of cheap, plain white t-shirts and worn-out jeans. Lexi’s mocking voice drifted from the doorway. “Marsha, look at this trash. I guess you really can only take these rags.” “You bought them with the pennies you earned from your embarrassing little jobs anyway. Leaving them here would just ruin the vibe of my house.” My hands paused over a folded shirt. She was not wrong. Ever since I was five years old, if I wanted something, I had to earn the money myself. Two dollars for dusting, three for sweeping, five for doing the laundry… Even though we had a full-time housekeeper, I did most of the chores. Once, our housekeeper took pity on me and washed my clothes for me. When Mom found out, she fired her on the spot. I had begged and cried for the woman, but Mom remained unmoved. “Marsha, you do your own work. This is the price of trying to take the easy way out and letting others do your job!” Lexi had stood in the corner back then, giggling quietly while sweetly telling Mom not to ruin her mood over me. Pushing the memories aside, I stuffed my clothes into my suitcase. As I zipped it up, I noticed Mom standing at the doorway, watching me silently. Lexi stepped forward, blocking my path. “Wait, Marsha. Mom bought that suitcase. You can’t take it.” I stared at my mother in disbelief, but she simply nodded. “Do what Lexi says.” My heart turned to ash. I dumped my clothes onto the floor, pulled a bedsheet off my bed, wrapped them up in a crude bundle, and slung it over my shoulder. As I walked out, I heard Mom dialing her phone behind me. “Cancel Marsha’s credit cards. And transfer her university exchange spot to Lexi!” I froze, a sharp pain piercing my chest. The money in my account was earned from my own part-time jobs. The university exchange program was a merit-based spot I had spent months studying to secure. Yet, with one phone call, Mom gave it all to Lexi. Behind me, Lexi cooed, “Mom, is Marsha really leaving us for good?” Mom let out a cold, dismissive laugh. “She’ll be back in a few days begging for mercy. Without the Eikenberry name, she is absolutely nothing.” But Mom was wrong. I had already secured a fully funded scholarship for an international exchange program. My flight was in three days. It wasn’t until I checked into a cheap motel that I finally let out a breath. My cards were frozen, but I had enough cash from my tutoring jobs to survive for three days. Once I settled in, I called the international admissions office. “Hello, I just wanted to confirm… the exchange program covers full tuition and provides a monthly living stipend, correct?” When the officer on the other end confirmed, the heavy weight on my chest lifted. I was finally going to escape this suffocating cage. But the comments were furious. [FL, how can you just run away to Europe like this? Go back and apologize to your mother tomorrow!] [Don’t be so selfish! Your mother is crying her eyes out at home, and here you are celebrating your escape!] [They say daughters are their mothers’ sweet little angels, but you are just a cold-hearted brat.] Ignoring the text, I opened my phone and scrolled through social media. The very first post was from Lexi. [First day as an only child! Candlelight dinner with Mom~] The attached photo showed Lexi and Mom smiling brightly, sharing steak and raising glasses of champagne. A bitter laugh escaped me. So this was the crying her eyes out the comments were talking about. I went to close the app, but my finger slipped, and I accidentally liked the post. When I refreshed a second later, Lexi’s post was gone. I knew her games. It was just another petty attempt to rub my nose in it. But the comments immediately defended her. [Lexi is so sweet. She just wanted to show FL that she and Mom are doing fine, but did you see Mom’s swollen eyes? She’s clearly been crying.] [The FL is way too much this time. She broke her mother’s heart, and honestly, she is breaking ours too!] I closed my eyes. No matter what they said, my mind was made up. The next morning, a headline caught my attention. Mom had used her official public relations account to announce that Lexi was now the sole heir and only daughter of the Eikenberry family. My throat tightened, and I blinked back tears. Suddenly, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Mom. [Marsha, if you come home and beg for my forgiveness, I might consider letting you back into this family.] She had no idea that I no longer cared about being a Eikenberry. For three days, I stayed in my room, ignoring the constant stream of nagging comments. When I was at home, I couldn’t even sleep without worrying about how to make Mom happy. Now, for the first time in my life, I felt peace. I packed my clothes into a cheap new suitcase I bought down the street and went to hand over my room key at the front desk. But when I opened the door, Mom was standing there, her face contorted with rage. Behind her stood a sniffling Lexi. Before I could move, Lexi lunged forward and grabbed my arm, her sharp acrylic nails digging deep into my skin. Mom took a step forward, her eyes instinctively darting to my bleeding arm, but she stopped herself. She was waiting for me to break. “Marsha, please give me back my diamond necklace!” Lexi sobbed. “I’d give you anything else, but that was my eighteenth birthday gift from Mom. You can’t take it!” Her grip tightened. Unable to bear the pain, I wrenched my arm away. Lexi collapsed to the floor with a dramatic cry. Mom immediately rushed to her side. “Lexi! Are you okay? Did she hurt you?” Lexi shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “I’m fine, Mom. As long as Marsha gives the necklace back, a little pain doesn’t matter.” Glancing at the blood dripping from my arm, I said coldly, “I don’t have your necklace, Lexi.” Before I could finish, Mom snapped. “Stop lying, Marsha! Lexi only took that necklace off in your room, and now it’s gone! You stole it!” Her words felt like a physical blow. I thought I had grown numb, but why did it still hurt so much? “I didn’t steal it,” I said quietly. “Maybe she misplaced it.” My refusal to back down pushed Mom over the edge. “Search the room! Find that necklace!” Six bodyguards stepped out from behind her. Before I could react, they barged into my room. Panic surged through me. “What are you doing? This is illegal!” Mom sneered. “Illegal? I’m your mother! You are only acting defensive because you are guilty.” I stared at her in shock. “I didn’t do it! I’m not a thief!” The comments floated by. [Her mom is going to extreme lengths just to get her to apologize.] [Yeah, her mom knows Lexi hid the necklace herself. She just used it as an excuse to see her daughter.] [I hope FL realizes her mother’s hidden love soon so they can make up.] The words froze in my throat. So Mom knew. She knew Lexi was lying, yet she still came here to humiliate and break me. She just wanted to force me to my knees. But I wouldn’t admit to something I didn’t do. “Mom…” Lexi whimpered. Mom waved her hand dismissively. “Hold Marsha down. Search everything!” Two large men grabbed my arms, pinning me to the wall. One of them squeezed right over my bleeding cut, and a sharp gasp escaped my lips. Mom’s eyes flickered with a brief flash of worry. Lexi noticed and immediately chimed in, “Mom, I was just so desperate to find the necklace. I didn’t mean to hurt her.” Mom patted Lexi’s head gently. “It’s fine. She brought this on herself by stealing. She deserves to be punished.” I felt completely hollow. She knew the truth, yet she chose to frame me. The comments kept chanting: [Look at her mom’s face, her heart is breaking, but she has to stay strong to teach her a lesson.] [FL, do you even know what a mother’s love is? She only does this because she loves you so much!] Love? I wanted to laugh. No real mother destroys her child in the name of love. My arm throbbed, but it was nothing compared to the agony in my chest. The bodyguards ripped my suitcase open, tearing my cheap clothes and scattering my underwear across the floor. The humiliation was suffocating. I closed my eyes, praying for it to end. But they found nothing. Suddenly, Mom’s phone rang. “You found it? Fine. Got it.” Lexi let go of her act, and the bodyguards released me. My knees buckled, and I slid to the floor, exhausted. Lexi ran to Mom’s side. “Mom, did they find my necklace?” Mom nodded. “Yes. Back at the house.” Lexi looked at me, then looked down. “I’m sorry, Mom. I was just so worried, I ended up hurting Marsha.” But Mom excused her instantly. “It’s fine. She has a tongue, but she refused to explain herself. It’s her own fault.” Then, Mom turned to the guards. “Bring her back to the estate.” “What? No! I have a—” Mom’s icy gaze cut me off. “If you won’t admit your mistakes, I’ll have to teach you a lesson you won’t forget.” She knew I was innocent, yet she was still going to lock me up. They dragged me to the basement of the estate, throwing me into the windowless storage room. Panic instantly clawed at my throat. When I was a child, whenever I made a mistake, I was thrown in here. Over time, I developed severe claustrophobia. In the pitch black, my mind would fracture, leaving me paralyzed with terror. Eventually, I learned to play the perfect, obedient daughter just to avoid this room. I curled into a ball in the corner, shaking violently. The comments kept scrolling. [Her mom just wants to hear her say sorry. Stop being so stubborn, FL!] [Your mom loves you the most. You have to understand her tough love.] I couldn’t even process the text through the tears. Then, the heavy bolt on the door slid back. Lexi’s smirking face appeared in the crack of light. “Feeling lonely, Marsha? Don’t worry, I brought some friends to keep you company.” She threw something heavy onto the floor and slammed the door shut, locking it. A dry, hissing sound echoed through the darkness. Lexi had thrown snakes into the room. My scream died in my throat as absolute terror took over, and my world went black. When I finally woke up, the door was wide open, and the snakes were gone. From upstairs, I could hear Mom and Lexi’s voices. “Mom, what about Marsha?” “Leave her. Let’s go buy you those new dresses you wanted.” Once the front door slammed shut, I dragged my trembling body toward my phone, which had fallen out of my pocket. With shaking fingers, I dialed the only number that could save me. “Hello… is there any way the university can send someone to pick me up?”

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