As college began, my roommate Lily Evans decided to rank us based on our blood types, with Type A being the highest, followed by O, and B at the bottom. Since I have Type B blood, I became the lowest-ranked person in her eyes. She treated me like a servant, writing a list of unreasonable rules for me on a piece of paper. She also called herself “Miss Evans” and showed off her designer clothes and bags in our dorm room. “If you all listen to me, I’ll have my dad arrange jobs for you after graduation,” she boasted. Hearing her words nearly made me cough up blood. If she’s Miss Evans, then who was the person I visited at the psychiatric hospital yesterday? “Let me tell you, people with Type B blood are the most fickle, selfish, and emotionally unstable. They’re like crazy people and can’t hang out with us Type A and O folks,” Lily declared. “We Type A people have the best personalities. We’re meticulous, enthusiastic, and generous. From now on, I’ll be the boss of this dorm and take care of you all.” After asking about our blood types, Lily couldn’t stop talking. There were four of us in the dorm: Lily was Type A, two others were Type O, and I was the only Type B. We were college students, not idiots. Everyone exchanged awkward smiles and ignored her, continuing to unpack. If blood types really determined personality, there would only be a few identical types of people in the world. But this irritated her. She took out her designer clothes and bags, spreading them across her bed as if afraid someone might miss them. One roommate from a rural area, seeing such beautiful clothes for the first time, exclaimed, “Wow, your family must be rich! These clothes are gorgeous. They must cost thousands!” Lily was delighted by the flattery: “Thousands? These cost $40,000! Here, take this lipstick. It’s a designer brand, number 422.” Another roommate put down her clothes and looked at them with shining eyes. Lily noticed her interest and gave her a lipstick too: “Stick with me, and there’ll be plenty of perks.” It was ridiculous. Truly wealthy people don’t remember the prices of things they buy, nor do they show off so blatantly. Seeing that I had no reaction, Lily approached me with a lipstick, smirking: “Don’t pretend. I know you want one too. From now on, you’ll be our dorm’s little follower. This is your welcome gift.” As the only daughter of the Liu Group, why would I need to be anyone’s follower? She was so arrogant over just giving me a lipstick. You’d think she’d bought me a house or something. But since I had to live in this dorm for a year before I could move off-campus, I politely declined: “No need, I have more lipsticks than I can use.” She had expected me to be grateful, so her face fell. She opened my drawer and burst out laughing: “I thought you used some fancy brand. You have the nerve to look down on mine? These are just cheap knockoffs from Wish.” “Knockoffs? These are all custom-made products my mom brought back from abroad.” Now she was laughing so hard tears were about to fall. “You should think before you lie. I’m Miss Evans. How come I’ve never seen this brand?” “You don’t mean the Evans family that donated a building to our school, do you?” Lily nodded proudly, basking in their admiration like a celebrity. “If you all listen to me, I’ll have my dad arrange jobs for you after graduation.” Hearing her words nearly made me cough up blood. If she’s Miss Evans, then who was the person I visited at the psychiatric hospital yesterday?

Besides, I had already investigated my roommates’ backgrounds before school started. Her parents were just ordinary working-class people. As for why she had so many luxury items and whether they were genuine, I couldn’t be bothered to think about it. I just wanted to enjoy my college life now, because after graduation, I’d have to take over the company and would never have such a relaxed time again. After finishing unpacking, my parents called me out for dinner. They were worried I wouldn’t adapt to dorm life and wanted to donate some equipment to the school so I could commute. I refused, not wanting to be so high-profile or make others think I was using connections. When I returned, I found I couldn’t open the door to our room. I knocked for a while before Lily finally opened it. She immediately threw a piece of paper at me: “From now on, if you forget your key, you’ll have to send a red envelope to each of us to get in.” I looked at the contents and nearly dropped my jaw. The first rule: Responsible for cleaning the dorm every day. Second rule: Wake up half an hour early to buy breakfast for them and save seats in the classroom. Third rule: Hand wash her underwear and socks daily. … I didn’t read the rest and threw it back in her face. She was treating me like a free maid. If she wouldn’t let me in, I’d break down the door. It would only cost a little to replace. I didn’t want to cause trouble at the start of school, but that didn’t mean I was easy to bully. She became furious and tried to slap me, but I firmly gripped her wrist. She glared at me, gritting her teeth: “I’ll tell my dad you’re bullying me. Just you wait.” I wasn’t raised to be scared easily. People like her shouldn’t be indulged. Even if Mr. Evans really came, he wouldn’t dare touch a hair on my head. I gripped her hand tighter, making her cry out in pain. “Apologize.” Her eyes widened, and I applied more pressure. Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore and begged: “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” I hadn’t been working out every day for years for nothing. The muscles in my arms weren’t just for show. She stared at me, unable to do anything. The next day, she got up early to put on makeup, the clanking of her cosmetics waking me up. She wore clothes covered in designer logos, exuding a nouveau riche vibe. I casually put on some casual wear, which prompted her sarcastic comments: “If you can’t afford genuine items, don’t pretend. Wearing fakes will only make people laugh at you.” I couldn’t help but laugh: “Who knows if yours are real? Dressed like that, people might think you’re some nouveau riche’s illegitimate child.” Angered, she took out several receipts from her suitcase to show me: “You country bumpkin, who are you calling fake?” I glanced at the receipts, which did seem genuine. When she asked me to show my receipts, I was stumped. Who carries around clothing receipts? In our first class, the advisor asked us to introduce ourselves. Lily was the first to raise her hand and went to the front: “Hi everyone, I’m Lily Evans, blood type A. I welcome all Type A and O people to be my friends. I’ll treat everyone to dinner tonight.” She certainly knew how to win people over. A crowd quickly gathered around her, flattering her. When it was my turn to go up, she started causing trouble. “Oh, you don’t know, yesterday I saw her using some sketchy lipstick and felt sorry for her, so I gave her a $422 lipstick. I must have hurt her pride because look how she grabbed my wrist.” Everyone saw her reddened wrist and looked at me with contempt. When I came down, only a few people applauded. Ridiculous. Just the usual tactics of a mean girl, twisting black and white. Besides, I had already asked my dad’s secretary to investigate her yesterday. I wanted to see where all her money came from.

During Freshman Orientation Week, because I was tall, I stood with the boys. Jack Zhang, a rich kid in our class, deliberately stood next to me, constantly trying to make conversation. I didn’t really want to engage with him. Our families had just ended a business partnership because his family’s product quality wasn’t up to par, and my family was looking for new partners. He was approaching me for his family’s company, but this displeased Lily. Lily loved having everyone, especially boys, gathered around her. Jack had taken her out in his sports car yesterday, but today he was being attentive to me, causing her to keep turning her head to glare at us during training. I originally wasn’t planning to pay attention to Jack, but seeing her so angry piqued my interest, so I started chatting with him. As soon as the instructor dismissed us, she ran over to bring Jack water, even affectionately patting his head. She was clearly marking her territory in front of me. “Jack, let’s go out for hot pot later. I’m so hungry,” she said coyly. Jack had always been a player, never dating a girl for more than a month, and often juggling multiple relationships. I’d even heard gossip about him last year when an influencer secretly gave birth to his daughter, but he refused to acknowledge her. In the end, his father had to step in and accept the child. Given his family’s current situation, if he had any sense, he’d choose me: “Jack, I’m hungry too. How about taking me for steak?” He was suddenly caught in a dilemma, torn between the girl he’d just hooked and someone who could benefit him. Faced with money and beauty, he ultimately chose money: “Lily, you go back first. I’ll take you for hot pot tomorrow.” Lily looked utterly disbelieving, tears streaming down her face like a faucet, appearing extremely pitiful. But Jack was unmoved, even calling the steakhouse to make a reservation right in front of her. This also angered Lily, who started yelling at me: “You vixen! Have you no shame? How dare you flirt with the man I like? Do you enjoy being a homewrecker that much?” She was really jumping to conclusions, especially since they weren’t even dating. I didn’t say anything, just looked up at Jack. He immediately understood and looked at Lily impatiently: “Who are you calling names? Look at yourself, acting all coquettish. We’ve only known each other for a few days, and you’re already calling me ‘honey’ all the time.” Lily hadn’t expected him to change so quickly and was too angry to speak: “You! You! You…” I couldn’t help but laugh, and he immediately pressed his advantage: “What ‘you’? I just took you out a few times and bought you some things. Did you really think you were my girlfriend?” Lily, who cared so much about face, was humiliated like this and cried uncontrollably. “I’ll give you… one more chance. Are you taking me… for hot pot… or her for steak?” she said between sobs. Her psychological resilience was quite strong. Any other girl would have run away in tears by now. “You’re crazy. Let’s go, Amy,” Jack said. Jack and I left, leaving her behind. “You two-timing jerks, I’ll never forgive you!” she shouted angrily at our backs. I treated it like a dog barking, not bothering to respond. At the school gate, I made an excuse that my parents had an urgent matter and left. If it wasn’t to anger Lily, I wouldn’t want to get too close to someone like Jack. At that moment, the secretary also called me to report on her investigation progress.

I never expected Lily to be the mistress of my best friend’s father, Robert Lee. The secretary even had people take photos of them kissing in a car. This really made me feel sick. Robert was already 50, with a mouthful of yellow teeth. How could she stomach kissing him? But this also gave me hope. My best friend, Olivia Lee, might have a chance to get out of the psychiatric hospital. She wasn’t really ill at all. She was locked up because she didn’t listen to Robert. After her college entrance exam, she got engaged to the Lu family and ran off abroad, only to be caught and brought back by Robert. When she tried to escape again, Robert’s men caught her, and a bystander filmed it and posted it online, causing a stir about the Lee family abusing their daughter. Under public pressure, Robert forged a psychiatric diagnosis for her and had her committed to a mental hospital. Olivia’s mother, Victoria, couldn’t help her because her family’s company was in decline and still relied on Robert’s financial support. I could only approach Victoria. I remembered her mentioning before that she and Robert had signed a prenuptial agreement stating that if either party cheated, they would leave the marriage with nothing. I invited Victoria out for coffee and told her everything in detail. Victoria’s eyes lit up. She thanked me and left in a hurry, not even touching her coffee. Now all I had to do was wait for the good news of Olivia’s release. Victoria acted swiftly, and Olivia was out the next day. Olivia already hated Robert, and upon learning of his affair, she urged her mother to divorce him immediately. But Victoria said there was no rush; she had her own plans. She had already taken over the Lee family company. Olivia wanted to come to school with me, so Victoria donated $2 million worth of lab equipment to the school, and Olivia was admitted as an exception to study with me. To thank Victoria, the school invited her to give a speech. Everyone thought it was Lily’s mother coming and cast envious glances at her. Our dorm was originally a six-person room that wasn’t full, so Olivia naturally moved in. Just as we finished moving her things in, Lily rudely rushed over to ask about her blood type. Olivia had heard about Lily from me and didn’t bother to engage with someone impersonating her identity. This infuriated Lily: “Do you know who my parents are? How dare you ignore me! Just looking at you, I can tell you’re Type B. Get ready to be ostracized by the whole class.” She was right about this; Olivia was indeed Type B. We might not know who her parents were, but tomorrow the whole school would know who Olivia’s parents were. We’d see who would be ostracized then. The next day, as soon as she saw Victoria, Lily went over to chat, even bringing her milk tea, acting like a real mother and daughter. But Victoria’s expression was already hiding daggers behind her smile. She recognized this girl as Robert’s mistress at a glance. But this was school, with so many eyes watching. They had to keep up appearances. During Victoria’s speech, Lily couldn’t stop talking: “My mom said she’s taking me for French cuisine tonight. I bet some people are so jealous.” When she said “some people,” she looked at us. Everyone cast envious glances at her, but she wouldn’t be smiling for long. “My daughter is also in the audience today. Finally, I’d like to invite her on stage to take a photo with me as a memento.”

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My wife brought home a half-eaten cake, claiming she bought it especially for me. If I hadn’t seen her male assistant post a screenshot of a transfer for “1314” (meaning “forever”), I might have believed her. I casually replied, “Work comes first.” Next thing I knew, I was blocked. My wife even called to berate me: “I’ve never met such a petty man!” As I rubbed my aching abdomen, I thought to myself, “Do whatever you want. I’m done playing this game.” Amber was walking through the door just as I was tossing a takeout box into the trash. Recently diagnosed with early-stage liver cancer, I had been strictly advised by my doctor to stick to a bland diet this month. But I couldn’t resist the temptation. Today marked the fifth anniversary of my marriage to Amber. I had checked out of the hospital early, eagerly booked a hotel, hoping to celebrate properly with her. After waiting all day for a message, if it weren’t for Jack’s boastful social media post and Amber’s accusatory phone call, I’d probably still be waiting at the hotel. As soon as she entered, Amber noticed the empty dining table and immediately frowned. “No home-cooked meal today?” she asked. I nodded casually, my eyes glued to my phone screen. I deliberately said, “I thought you’d already eaten out.” In the past, no matter how late or tired I was, I would always come home early and cook different delicious meals for her. Back then, if she even slightly frowned, I’d feel like the sky was falling. Now, thinking back, it’s laughable how I humiliated myself completely, only to receive no love in return. Oblivious to my change in attitude, Amber placed a cake in front of me, saying she bought it specially because I mentioned wanting something sweet. But one look told me the cake had clearly been tampered with. It was full of dents, and all the fruit toppings had been picked off. I glanced at it and continued playing with my phone. Seeing my cold reaction, she grew upset. “Ryan, what’s your problem? I brought this especially for you, and you’re giving me the cold shoulder? When will this end?” “I don’t want something that’s been touched by others. It’s disgusting,” I said coldly. Her phone rang. I didn’t need to guess who it was. She looked up at me, her eyes cold with a hint of barely noticeable joy. Then, impatiently, she said, “Fine, fine, fine. I’ll go buy you another one, okay? I’m so tired from work, and I come home to this cold face of yours. It’s like I owe you something!” With that, she turned to leave. Remembering I had left the hospital in a hurry without my medication, I said I’d go along. Hearing this, she jumped like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. “You want to follow me just to buy a cake? Are you sick? Are you trying to keep me on a leash?” I sighed and explained I just needed to stop by the pharmacy. Only then did she relent, but not before ordering me to get her a blueberry cake before getting in the car. At the pharmacy, I got out. A flash of surprise crossed her eyes, and her tone softened a bit. “Wait for me here after you’re done. I’ll pick you up.” With that, the car sped away, splashing muddy water all over me. I irritably wiped it off. I waited and waited outside the pharmacy. The rain got heavier, and my body was frozen stiff, but there was no sign of her. Thunder rumbled, startling me. Just as I was about to call a cab, the downpour began. I was instantly soaked to the bone. Remembering the doctor’s words, I fought through the pain and ran to a convenience store to buy an umbrella, but it was too late. My abdomen started to cramp severely, and I crouched on the ground, curled up in pain. Thankfully, a kind passerby helped me home. Otherwise, I might have needed an ambulance. I had just gotten home, dried off, and taken my medication when Amber stormed in, slamming the door so hard it shook the walls. “Why didn’t you tell me you came back? I’ve been driving around in the rain looking for you for an hour! Did you do this on purpose? Do you think it’s funny?”

My hand froze midair as I was putting down my water glass, a look of bewilderment on my face. She had blocked my number herself, and now she was blaming me for not contacting her? I had waited for two hours and just got home, and she claimed she’d been looking for me for an hour? Enough is enough. I didn’t have the energy to expose her little game. My face darkened as I coldly said, “If you wanted me to contact you, you should have unblocked me first.” Hearing this, she pressed her lips together, suppressing her anger. She put a rain-soaked matcha cake without its box in front of me. “It’s too late, and the box is gone. I barely found a place that still had any,” she explained. I stared at the cake, feeling nothing but exhaustion, numb to her lame excuses. My phone screen lit up at that moment. Jack had posted another update, a photo of a blueberry cake with a sickeningly sweet caption. I wanted to smirk, but found I didn’t even have the energy for that. A thousand words condensed into one sentence: “Thanks for the effort. You can throw it away.” Her face instantly turned ashen, her eyes nearly popping out of their sockets. “Are you crazy? I went through all this trouble to get this for you, and you just want to throw it away?” she yelled. “You’re making a fool out of me! It’s just a bonus for an employee, why are you making such a big deal out of it? I’m the boss, can’t I make my own decisions? And don’t think I’ve forgotten about you insulting people in private messages!” She grew more agitated as she spoke. I rubbed my aching head, too tired to argue. “It’s not what you think. I don’t have the energy or time for that. At that time, I was…” Before I could finish, she roughly cut me off. “Enough! Stop talking! It’s always like this. You’re in your mid-thirties, but you’re still as jealous as when you were young. There are so many handsome guys in this world, are you going to be jealous of all of them? You’ve lost your mind!” Her words cut into my heart like knives. In the past, I would always argue with her over these little things, begging her to love only me. But now, I’ve woken up. Between adults, what’s the point of love that needs to be questioned? I sighed, “If that’s how you want to see it, there’s nothing I can do.” With that, I got up and walked towards the bedroom. She ignored me, threw the cake in the trash, and started scrolling through her phone, occasionally letting out suppressed laughter. She went to the bathroom to make a call, and I took the opportunity to pack up my bedding, preparing to move to the guest room. Just as I was leaving, I bumped into her. She looked annoyed, staring at the bedding in my hands, and finally exploded: “What’s the meaning of this? You want to sleep separately?” “I didn’t complain about your alcohol breath, and this is how you act? Looking at you now makes me sick!” she said viciously, “Don’t come looking for me if you can’t sleep tonight!” I ignored her and went straight to the guest room, locking the door behind me. In the past, I couldn’t sleep when she came home late, constantly calling and texting her. She responded by giving me a bottle of sleeping pills the next day. Now, I sleep soundly without any medication. It turns out, those hurdles we thought we couldn’t overcome, when we look back, aren’t such a big deal after all. I’ve found a reliable divorce lawyer and am ready to start a new life. Meanwhile, Amber’s company account was buzzing with celebration videos. In the video, she stood next to Jack, a perfect match. The jewelry around her neck was the anniversary gift I gave her last year. This year’s gift, I’ve already returned, along with those unrealistic expectations.

I was about to turn off my phone when Amber’s call suddenly came through, her voice tinged with excitement: “I’ve sent you the address. I’ll pick you up later. There’s a surprise for you.” A sarcastic smile tugged at my lips. I’ve had quite enough of her “surprises.” Before I could say no, she had already hung up. It’s strange indeed that she remembered to unblock me right before the divorce. I had just finished taking my medicine when Amber’s car roared to a stop downstairs. After receiving her message, I went out in my loungewear. As soon as I got in the car, Amber’s smile froze upon seeing my scruffy face, as if she had swallowed a fly. “Why didn’t you shave or change your clothes? You’re embarrassing me. Are you deliberately trying to upset me?” Her tone was full of reproach. At that moment, Jack poked his head out from the passenger seat, dressed in a flashy suit, looking innocent: “Oh, I’m sorry, bro-in-law. I forgot to notify you… and couldn’t get through on the phone.” I shrugged and smiled, “It’s fine. A man’s dignity isn’t built on a woman’s approval.” I deliberately glanced at Jack, “Besides, with such a capable secretary, Amber’s reputation is already secure.” Amber was left speechless by my retort. I couldn’t be bothered with her and sat directly in the back seat. Throughout the journey, Jack chattered non-stop about the birthday party and how impressive Amber was. His tone was full of boasting and provocation towards me. I couldn’t care less and treated him like thin air. At the hotel, Jack naturally walked to Amber’s side, while I followed behind. At the elevator, the company staff were waiting. As soon as they saw Amber and Jack, the atmosphere became awkward. Mike quickly came forward to smooth things over. As soon as Mike saw me enter, he enthusiastically greeted me: “Oh, Ryan, you’re finally here! We couldn’t have landed this project without your skills! The entire company owes you a debt of gratitude today!” Hearing this warmed my heart, and I smiled, waving my hand: “Mike, you’re too kind. All this ‘bro’ talk feels strange. Who knows, when I return from abroad, I might bring back a new title, but that’s still up in the air.” I responded with a smile, knowing he was trying to help me. But as soon as I said this, Amber’s face changed. She suddenly turned and stared at me: “What do you mean abroad? You’re going overseas? How come I don’t know about this? Did I agree to this?” That look in her eyes, as if I were a stranger who had suddenly appeared. I smiled calmly, offering no explanation. In my mind, I thought: This divorce is definitely happening.

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Lucas, my boyfriend, asked me to take on his massive debts to help him secure his family’s business inheritance. He begged me to fake a breakup with him. On the day the debts were finally cleared, he was nowhere to be found when we were supposed to get back together. When we met again, he coldly said: “For the sake of my family’s reputation, you can only be my secret lover. We can’t have any public connection, and I’ll have a stand-in pretend to be my girlfriend.” Three years of suffering, only to end up with such a disgraceful outcome. At a luxurious banquet, he trapped me, dressed in an elegant gown, in a hotel suite. Pointing at some documents on the table, he coaxed me: “All this money is compensation for you. Just wait for me here.” As the door closed, his cronies could no longer contain their laughter: “Lucas, you’re so clever. I bet if you told her to jump off a cliff, she wouldn’t even hesitate!” Seeing the banquet was about to start, I struggled with all my might to break free from my restraints and rushed to the neighboring hotel. Unexpectedly, I ran into his stand-in girlfriend. Lucas angrily slapped me to the ground: “Sophia, we’re long over. Why do you keep pestering me? I refused to let you be the other woman, so you came to ruin my plans. How disgusting can you be?” He labeled me as the other woman and coldly watched as people poured drinks on me and tore at my dress. Then I was subjected to public condemnation on social media. But when the powerful Leo came to pick me up for the banquet, Lucas was completely dumbfounded.

As the banquet was about to begin, I had just arrived at the hotel when I unfortunately ran into Lucas preparing to leave for the event. I ignored him and walked straight past, but his cronies blocked my way: “Lucas, why is she dressed like this? Is she trying to cause trouble?” “If people find out there are two women, what about your reputation and your family’s?” Lucas’s eyes widened in shock. He and his cronies quickly dragged me to a corner. He examined my elegant attire with a gloomy expression: “Sophia! What do you mean by this? I’ve already promised you compensation. Do you have to make such a scene?” “That’s right, Lucas is now the heir to the family business. You should be grateful to even be his secret lover, given your debt situation!” People who once treated me with respect now puffed on cigars and spoke to me rudely, calling me the “debt woman.” If Lucas hadn’t allowed it, how would they dare treat me like this? Faced with my icy gaze, they deliberately blew smoke in my face: “Greed knows no bounds. You’ve been hiding from debts and living the good life while Lucas solved your big problems. He even arranged a stand-in for the banquet knowing you don’t like attention. If I were you, I’d be falling over myself with gratitude!” “But here you are, wearing some cheap dress you got from who knows where to cause trouble. Aren’t you just embarrassing Lucas?” Little did I know that bearing Lucas’s debts was considered “living the good life.” These arrogant cronies once again began their skillful manipulation of me. Praising Lucas and belittling me was their specialty. Back when Lucas was vying for his inheritance by orchestrating a business scheme, they took turns persuading me to take the fall to please him. I was worried Lucas might have fallen for someone else during these three years, but they swore they’d be the first to make him pay if he ever betrayed me. A man’s word truly can’t be trusted. I let out a cold laugh and said calmly: “If it’s such a blessing, why don’t you take it?” When things went wrong, all of these people were involved, each more devious than the last, but none dared to take responsibility. Faced with my questioning, William, the leader, took a deep drag on his cigar and spoke arrogantly: “If I were a woman, you wouldn’t stand a chance!” The others chimed in, lamenting that they weren’t women and telling me to cherish what I had. Knowing full well that I hated the smell of smoke, they deliberately got close to me and blew it in my face. Seeing me cough uncontrollably with tears in my eyes from the smoke, Lucas remained unmoved. Through the haze, I couldn’t help but recall how Lucas used to sternly stop anyone from smoking near me. I turned to look at him involuntarily: “So, you also think that bearing your debts for three years is my honor and blessing?” Lucas pressed his lips tightly together, a flash of embarrassment on his face that quickly turned to anger: “Enough, hurry up and go change your clothes. Stop embarrassing me here!” He immediately called someone to take me away. Times have changed. He’s broken his promises, and I have no interest in wasting words with such an ungrateful person: “Good dogs don’t block the way. Please move aside, I need to attend the banquet.” Laughter erupted: “Sophia, did hiding from debts addle your brain? You’re not the one who gets to attend the banquet openly with Lucas, you know!” “Lucas, since she’s so eager to attend the banquet, why don’t we find a room for her to watch from? That way she can say she attended.” Faced with his crony’s suggestion, Lucas impatiently asked me: “We didn’t want you to come because we were afraid you’d be upset. Are you sure you insist on attending the banquet?”

The banquet was hosted by Leo’s family. I had no idea Lucas would be here. Running into him on the day of the banquet, what rotten luck! “Why would I be upset about attending my own banquet?” If he wasn’t worried about me exposing his scheme, Lucas would have gotten rid of me long ago. It’s laughable that he’s still pretending to care deeply for me, thinking I’m still blindly devoted to him and will obediently be his puppet for life. My honest words fell on Lucas’s ears as mere stubbornness. He was clearly annoyed at my ingratitude, yet still had to put on a show of concern. “Sophia, everything I’ve done is for your own good! Don’t be so stubborn……” Yet his hand showed no mercy as he dragged me into the hotel. “Since you want to attend the banquet so badly, fine. But you must stay quiet, and don’t throw a tantrum with me afterward!” His reluctant tone implied that allowing me into the hotel was a great favor. Before I was caught up in his scheme, he had also put on this fake act: “Since you’ve decided, I can only trouble you for now. I swear that the day you’re free from debt will be the day I bring you back……” He painted a beautiful picture of our reunion after three years, and I, deeply in love with him, clung to these empty promises to endure the difficult years. Even during our last meeting, he was still planning our future life together. Sadly, after three years of painful waiting, he wanted to find someone new. All his professions of love were just tactics to lure me into his trap. Thinking of this, waves of anger and sorrow surged within me. “Let go of me! I’m going to the hotel next door! It has nothing to do with you!” I forcefully broke free from Lucas’s grip. He was shocked that I, who had always been so docile, would resist. His face was full of surprise. Taking advantage of his momentary shock, I turned and walked towards the hotel without looking back. “Sophia, haven’t you had enough? Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?!” “How did hiding from debt give you such a rebellious attitude? Looks like you’ve been living too comfortably out there……” Lucas stopped himself mid-sentence. He had accidentally revealed his true thoughts. “Bearing three years of debt, nearly losing my life being chased by creditors, you don’t mention a word of that, do you?” Under my direct gaze, Lucas turned his head, unable to look at me: “Sophia, I spoke hastily out of anxiety. That incident was an accident, but you came out unharmed in the end, didn’t you?” William also chimed in: “That’s right, if it weren’t for Lucas quietly pulling strings, you might not even be alive.” The unease on Lucas’s face vanished, replaced by an air of superiority. “If it weren’t for your weak personality, always letting people take advantage of you, they wouldn’t have dared to harm you so easily. I met those creditors, and they said they targeted you because you were an easy mark……” Lucas knew the truth of the matter all too well. It was he who, in order to secure his inheritance, had schemed to frame me with massive debts. The creditors, unable to collect, first threatened and intimidated me, and finally resorted to attempting to take my life. Who could swallow such treatment? That’s why the creditors paid someone to try to kill me. If Lucas had faced this himself, he would have been the one nearly losing his life. Yet he preferred to believe others’ lies rather than trust me. He even used my personality as an excuse. During those three years, I had imagined countless times that he might change his heart, that he might abandon me because of my fallen status. But I never imagined that he would think it was only right for me to bear his debts. All the passionate vows crumbled in the face of reality. I was just too naive and foolish, thinking that being loved by a rich young man like him was the greatest luck of my life. “I’ll get back together with you after the banquet ends, that should satisfy you, right?” As expected of someone who grew up in the scheming business world, he knew how to give a sweet after a slap. He even made a show of taking out his phone to show me the order for the gift he had prepared for me. Lucas turned the phone screen towards me: “Are you reassured now?” The next second, a message popped up on his phone: [Darling, have you left yet? I’m waiting for you at the banquet. That stupid woman didn’t give you any trouble, did she……]

Stupid woman…… I couldn’t help but laugh. Lucas thought I was happy because of his gift. So he once again took it for granted to pull me along, not forgetting to give his cronies a knowing look. Outnumbered, they forcibly took me to a suite. Then they ordered someone to quickly bring me some clothes. “Take off that cheap dress and throw it in the trash. If people found out I couldn’t even buy you a decent dress, wouldn’t that be embarrassing?” Lucas shooed William and the others out, but found me staring blankly at the dress. “If you like wearing dresses so much, I’ll have dozens made for you. You can wear them however you like at home! But not today.” “We’ll soon be family, sharing glory and shame. If any bad rumors spread, you’ll be the one suffering.” I stroked the dress, saying nothing. He had indeed forgotten all his past promises. This was the dress my late mother had carefully chosen for me, always hoping to see me happy. Back then, Lucas had promised at my mother’s grave that he would give me a happy life. He said that wearing the dress my mother chose would make me the most beautiful woman in the world. Even Leo could accept me not wearing a dress prepared by his family, but Lucas found this dress cheap. In his eyes, what wasn’t cheap? “Who you want to be with is your business, but don’t delay my attendance at the banquet!” Lucas was grinding his teeth in frustration at my stubbornness, clenching and unclenching his fists. This was a sign that he was losing patience. As a ringtone sounded, he ordered William and the others to watch me, then went aside to answer the phone. I couldn’t hear clearly what they were saying, but I could see his excited expression and tender smile in the mirror’s reflection. It was a look I had never seen before. I thought my heart would ache, but I felt nothing. William, ever the loyal follower, deliberately blocked my view, afraid I would notice something. “Sister Sophia, we all know the sacrifices you’ve made for Lucas. If you want to be with him, you shouldn’t mind sacrificing a little more.” “You should believe that he has planned everything for your future.” While calling me “Sister Sophia,” William’s hand began to caress my bare arm as he spoke. The other cronies also started calling me “Sister Sophia” in a mocking tone. “Get lost!” I forcefully shook off William’s hand. Lucas heard the commotion and quickly hung up the phone to come over. “Sophia, can’t you behave? Stop causing trouble, will you?” “It’s an important occasion today, can’t you just……” I coldly interrupted him: “When did I agree to get back together with you? You think you’re worthy of having me?” “If you anger Mr. Leo, don’t say I didn’t warn you!” The powerful Leo was someone to be reckoned with. I had to use his name, otherwise I might be late for the banquet. Who knows how that gentleman would punish me then. “Mr. Leo? You don’t mean Leo from the Li family? Don’t tell me you want to be with him!” “That’s right, today I’m attending the banquet he’s hosting……” William and the others laughed uproariously. “Lucas, I think she really has gone crazy, daring to say such nonsense.” “Brother, I suddenly feel so sorry for you. If you really get back together with her, you’ll have endless trouble!” Lucas reprimanded them with a dark face: “Enough, stop laughing!” He turned and pointed at the screen on the wall, coaxing me: “Sophia, just stay here and watch. I’ll be back soon.” “I know you want to be with me, but you shouldn’t let your imagination run wild, especially about Mr. Leo. Don’t get involved with him anymore, he’s not someone you or I can mess with.” His phone rang more and more urgently, and his voice grew gentler as he tried to pacify me. With that, he hurriedly left, locking the door behind him in one smooth motion. As the door locked, his cronies could no longer contain themselves, stomping their feet with laughter: “Lucas, you’re really something! I bet if you told her to jump off a cliff, she wouldn’t even resist!” “All of you shut up!”

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I suspected my husband might be having an affair. I hired a private investigator to look into it. A week later, the investigator sent me numerous photos. In the pictures, my husband was intimately close with his female secretary. There was even a real-time photo of them in a hotel bed, with the secretary’s long hair entwined around his arm and her red-painted nails clutching my husband’s neck. I picked up my phone and dialed my husband’s number. As the gathering drew to a close, guests gradually departed, leaving me standing alone in the empty living room. Outside, snow was falling heavily and the wind was bitterly cold, while my body felt unusually weak from prolonged fatigue and emotional distress. I picked up my phone and called Jack. “Hey, Jack, the party’s over. Could you come pick me up? The snow’s too heavy for me to drive,” I tried to keep my voice calm. On the other end of the line, Jack’s voice sounded a bit flustered, “Emily, I… I’m a bit tied up right now. I might not be able to make it.” “What’s going on? Didn’t you say you were checking on the progress at the project site today?” I asked deliberately, already knowing the answer but still clinging to a shred of hope. “Ah… yes, there’s an unexpected situation at the site that needs my immediate attention,” he stammered in response. “Alright then, be careful,” I hung up, a self-mocking smile tugging at my lips. The private investigator’s photos were right in front of me. How could he still be at the project site? This was just another lie he had fabricated. I set myself a one-hour time limit. If Jack could make it to pick me up within this time, I’d give him one more chance; if not, I’d end this marriage for good. I sat on the couch, staring blankly at the heavy snow outside the window. One hour passed, then two hours, and even after three hours, Jack still hadn’t shown up. He hadn’t even called to check on me. My heart turned completely cold.

I picked up my phone and dialed that familiar number. After ringing for a long time, Jack’s sleepy voice finally came through. “Hello?” His voice carried a hint of impatience. “Jack, where are you right now?” I tried to keep my tone calm, but the anger inside me was about to consume me. “I’m… I’m still busy. What’s wrong?” His answer was clearly a lie. “Is that so? I’ve been waiting for you for three hours. What exactly are you so busy with?” I asked point-blank, my voice suppressing anger. There was silence on the other end for a few seconds, then he said irritably, “The company has some issues right now. Can’t you understand and just go home by yourself…” I didn’t bother listening to his baseless accusations and hung up. I stood up, grabbed my coat and car keys, deciding to drive home myself. After getting home, when I reopened my phone, a thought flashed through my mind. I registered a new account and quietly infiltrated Sophia and Jack’s social media circles. My fingertips slid across the screen, revealing post after post. Sophia’s timeline was full of sweet moments between her and Jack. Photo after photo showed them smiling so brightly, as if flaunting their happiness to me. The photos of exquisite gifts, with captions brimming with love, made me sick to my stomach. “Darling, this gift is so thoughtful. Thank you for always being there for me,” Sophia posted a picture of a designer handbag. I clicked into the comments section, and sure enough, Jack’s comment was right there: “As long as you like it, I’m willing to buy you the whole world.” Seeing this sentence, I was stunned, my hand involuntarily gripping the phone tightly. This was also a sweet nothing he had once said to me, but now he easily said it to another woman. A wave of indescribable nausea and hurt washed over me. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my emotions. I took screenshots of their posts and saved them on my phone as evidence of his betrayal of our marriage.

I managed to rest for a night, but woke up the next day feeling headachy and weak. I wanted to rest a bit more, but was awakened by Jack’s rough knocking on the door. “Emily, are you up? Get up and make me something to eat, and while you’re at it, make some hot soup for Sophia. I’ll take it to her later.” His voice came through the door crack, carrying an unquestionable command. I struggled to sit up, fuming, my voice hoarse from the cold: “Jack, can’t you see I’m sick? Why should I cook for you and her?” He clearly hadn’t expected me to refuse. He pushed open the door and stood in front of me with a displeased look: “What’s wrong with you today? Can’t you even do this small thing? Don’t forget, today is our wedding anniversary!” I laughed coldly. This so-called “anniversary” was probably just another excuse for him to show off his harmonious family life. “Anniversary? You must have gotten the date wrong, or maybe you just don’t care about this day at all. And you want me to serve you and your mistress? Jack, you’ve gone too far!” His face darkened as he angrily walked over: “What nonsense are you talking about? Sophia is just a colleague. She worked late today, so I’m just giving her a ride home. Don’t make a fuss!” “Making a fuss?” I pointed at myself, feeling a wave of sadness, “I’m making a fuss? Look at the ‘surprise’ you gave me!” Saying this, I grabbed the small box he had thrown on the bedside table and smashed it in front of him. He was stunned for a moment, then bent down to pick up the box. When he opened it, his expression became complex. Inside the box lay the pendant I had once loved dearly. “This is… the pendant you’ve always wanted. I bought it especially for you,” he tried to explain, but his voice lacked conviction. “Yes, I’ve always wanted it, but what you bought is the cheap imitation that Sophia wears!” I pointed at the identical pendant around Sophia’s neck in the social media photos. “You think I don’t know? You gave her the real one and gave me a fake! Jack, you’re so calculating!” His face turned ashen as he tried to defend himself. “Enough, Jack,” I cut off his words before he could speak. “You’ve lied to me many times.” I looked straight at him. He was stunned.

Jack hesitated for a moment, then suddenly came over to feel my forehead, trying to change the subject: “Emily, let’s not talk about this now. You’re not well, I’ll take you to the hospital.” I shook my head, trying to resist this sudden “care,” “I don’t need you to worry about me!” But he obviously didn’t heed my refusal, pulling me out of bed with one swift motion. “Listen to me, we’re going now,” his tone was uncompromising, as if I were a puppet in his hands, only able to move according to his will. Sitting in the car, I leaned back in my seat, my gaze inadvertently falling on the leather cushion in the back seat. That cushion used to be my favorite, but now it had an eye-catching cross drawn on it by Sophia. I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice calm: “This cushion…” Jack glanced at me through the rearview mirror, a flash of embarrassment crossing his face, “Oh, that? Sophia accidentally drew on it. She said she’d get you a new one.” I sneered, “Accidentally? More like intentionally.” I didn’t say anything more. I was already tired of this marriage. At the hospital, the process of registration, consultation, and examination… I went through all these procedures in a half-awake state. Just as I was about to leave, Jack’s phone rang. It was his so-called “company call.” I clearly saw the name on the screen – Sophia. He answered the call, deliberately walking to the side and lowering his voice, but even so, I could vaguely hear the words “miss you.” A few minutes later, he hung up and came over to me, saying, “Emily, there’s an urgent matter at the company. I have to go now. You take a cab home, okay? Be careful.” I nodded, neither trying to keep him nor questioning him. Because I knew all of this was just his excuse. He was only going to meet Sophia. Back home, I lay on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Until the next morning, when a sudden burst of phone ringing broke the silence of the room. It was Jack, inviting me to attend a gathering, saying it was to celebrate the success of a project. I knew this was just another way for him to show off his “successful man” image in front of me. “I don’t want to go,” I refused him directly. “Emily, you must come,” his tone suddenly became firm. “Ryan and Chris will be there. You’re my wife, it’s your responsibility to attend such occasions.” I was silent for a moment, recalling that unpleasant gathering experience. Back then, I was like an outsider, watching them chat and laugh, feeling out of place myself. But this time, it didn’t matter anymore. I was going to get a divorce anyway, so I decided not to back down. The gathering was at a high-end restaurant. As soon as I entered, I saw Jack and Sophia standing together, their smiles so glaring. Seeing me, Sophia immediately came over enthusiastically, but her eyes flashed with provocation. “Oh, sister Emily is here too,” she deliberately raised her voice, as if wanting everyone to know of my presence. “Long time no see, you and Jack are still so in love.” I looked at her coldly, ignoring her provocation. The gathering began, but I was isolated. Sophia and her friends deliberately excluded me, and no one prepared a seat for me. “What’s wrong, no one arranged a seat for you?” A sarcastic female voice rang out. It was one of Sophia’s friends, deliberately raising her voice so that everyone around could hear. I snorted, “Yeah, I don’t know who planned this gathering. They can’t even handle the most basic tasks.” Sophia’s friend’s face stiffened, about to say something more. Ryan, a usually friendly acquaintance, walked over with a hint of apology on his face. “Emily, I’m so sorry, I didn’t notice you didn’t have a seat. Come, sit with me.” I looked at him, about to follow Ryan to his seat, when Sophia stopped me. “Ryan, what’s wrong with you? There are empty seats over there, why squeeze in here?” Sophia deliberately raised her voice, drawing the attention of those around. Ryan looked troubled. He glanced at Sophia, then at me, and finally chose to remain silent. I was fed up inside, thinking I might as well go all out.

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## To save his precious first love, the so-called “light of his life,” my boyfriend didn’t hesitate to shove me straight into a horde of zombies. When I opened my eyes again, I had already become one of them. And I swore, I would kill him. Ironically, fate had other plans—he became the Zombie King. But that didn’t matter. I still planned to kill him. If I couldn’t beat him head-on, I’d use every trick in the book. “Ahhh! Help me! Someone, please!” A piercing scream echoed from downstairs. I hesitated for a moment, but my boyfriend, Chris, took off like a sprinter, rushing toward the sound. A few of his teammates exchanged glances and smirked knowingly. “Looks like the Captain’s in a hurry. I bet it’s Anna Lane—the goddess he’s been pining after forever. His first love. Still hasn’t gotten over her, has he?” Someone coughed awkwardly, trying to shut them up. “Hey, his girlfriend is right here. Watch what you’re saying.” Another one chuckled. “Relax, it’s just a joke. You’re not mad, are you?” Mad? I wanted to shoot him right between the eyes. But this was Chris’s squad, his people. I had no power here, no influence. Picking a fight with them would only make things worse. So I swallowed my anger and kept quiet. It wasn’t like they cared what I thought anyway. Still, when Chris didn’t come back after a while, everyone started to look uneasy. “We should go check on them,” someone suggested. I didn’t want to go. But if I refused, they’d brand me as selfish, a liability, someone who didn’t care about the team. And I couldn’t let them drag my name through the mud. Reluctantly, I followed them downstairs. What we saw made my stomach drop. Anna Lane stood in the middle of the zombie horde, surrounded by a faint protective shield. She was screaming her lungs out as the zombies pressed closer and closer. The light of her shield was dimming rapidly—she wouldn’t last much longer. Among the horde were high-tier zombies. Trying to rescue her would be a suicide mission. Even the ones who had been shouting about saving their “goddess” moments ago went quiet. Chris was hurling fireballs at the zombies, but they barely made a dent in the crowd. His attacks did nothing to stop the tide. And then, he crouched down, his face buried in his hands. Was he… crying? I had never seen him like this before. When I was in danger, he always stayed calm, calculating the risks before swooping in at the last second to “gracefully” save the day. If I ever voiced even the slightest dissatisfaction, he’d look at me like I was being unreasonable. “It’s for the good of the team,” he’d say, his tone clipped. “I can’t prioritize you over everyone else. Can’t you be a little more understanding?” Or worse: “It’s the apocalypse. Death is normal. Consider this practice for the day you’re really surrounded by zombies. At least then you won’t embarrass yourself by breaking down.” Sometimes, he didn’t even bother pretending. “Why can’t you be more like Anna? She’s soft, sweet—everything a girl should be. You’re too independent. It’s exhausting. You make me feel like I’ve got nothing to offer you.” But the man who claimed to put the team above all else had risked our lives countless times for Anna. Funny how his priorities shifted when it came to her. Disgusting. “What do we do, Boss?” one of the teammates asked hesitantly. Chris’s eyes were bloodshot as he looked around, desperate. Then, his gaze locked onto me. In that split second, I knew something was wrong. Before I could react, he shoved me forward—straight into the horde. The zombies, who had been fixated on Anna, turned their attention to me. Their hollow, black eyes gleamed with hunger. Panicking, I tried to retreat, but elemental blasts from behind forced me back. I looked toward the team, hoping for help, but their faces were cold, indifferent. Some even aimed their attacks at my weak spots, ensuring I couldn’t fight back. These people, my so-called teammates, had turned into executioners. In the end, I was devoured by the horde. And Chris? He used the time I bought with my life to save Anna. If I could do it all over again, I’d make sure to kill that bastard with my own hands.

When I opened my eyes, the pain was gone. Zombies shuffled around me, occasionally stepping on my mangled body. But none of them attacked me. Confused, I sat up, only to see that half my flesh had been chewed off. My stomach had a gaping hole, and when I reached inside, I could feel my intestines. Oh. I was dead. Or rather, undead.

The next few days were a blur. I was starving. The urge to bite, to devour, consumed me. I managed to find a few rats, but every time I tried to eat, dozens of other zombies swarmed in, fighting over scraps. I couldn’t even get a bite of fur. Frustrated and weak, I sat in a daze. Then, I heard voices. Human voices. In this zombie-infested world, hearing people was as rare as winning the lottery. Where there were humans, there was a fight. And where there was a fight, there were high-level ability users. As a low-level zombie, I had no strength to charge into a battle. Doing so would be suicide. But risk and opportunity are two sides of the same coin. If I wanted revenge, I had to grow stronger. And to do that, I needed crystal cores. These ability users probably had plenty of them.

I crept closer to the voices, careful to stay just outside their detection range. My experience as a scout helped me gauge the right distance—close enough to watch, far enough to avoid being noticed. The other zombies? They charged in blindly, throwing themselves at the ability users and dying instantly. But when they died, crystal cores burst from their skulls. My mouth watered at the sight. While the ability users were distracted, I snuck around, scavenging the cores from the fallen zombies. The unpurified energy was chaotic and weak, but it was better than nothing. After swallowing a few, I felt a faint surge of power coursing through me. Curious, I turned to a nearby zombie that was crawling forward. “Sit,” I commanded in my mind. The zombie paused, then clumsily crouched down, obeying the order. A grin spread across my decayed face. This was just the beginning.

I always had a special ability—a rare support skill: control. But it only worked on my own kind. I couldn’t control zombies whose minds operated on a different wavelength. In the human world, my ability was seen as useless, almost laughable. But among humans, it was feared. People worried I’d use it against them. Because of that fear, every time I went on a mission, the crystal cores that were rightfully mine were taken away under one excuse or another. I died without even having the power to control a single person. But now? The tables had turned. A grin tugged at the corners of my mouth as I observed the ongoing battle. Both sides were locked in a stalemate. The humans were strong and experienced in killing zombies. Even when multiple high-tier zombies attacked at once, they could hold their ground. But humans had limits. Their stamina would run out, while zombies had no such weakness. Patiently, I waited, watching countless zombies sacrifice themselves. Finally, the humans began to show signs of exhaustion. The high-tier zombies noticed this shift, too. They began preparing to strike. Everyone wanted what the humans carried—their purified crystal cores. These weren’t ordinary cores. They were refined from hundreds, if not thousands, of raw cores, packed with immense energy. Eating just one could elevate a low-tier zombie to a mid-tier one. I needed those. But so did the high-tier zombies around me, all of whom were stronger and deadlier than I was.

After sneaking off and swallowing countless crystal cores, I let out a satisfied belch. My body, once mangled and skeletal, had begun to regenerate. Thin layers of flesh covered my bones like a fragile membrane, almost like plastic wrap. In just one day, I had made this much progress. I should have been content. But I wasn’t. Greed had always been my driving force. Even when I was human, I knew that fortune favored the bold. It was why I left the safety of the quarantine zones to join a mercenary squad. Sure, I died miserably in the end, but it was still better than living a life of poverty and humiliation. Then, a scream snapped me out of my thoughts. I turned toward the sound. The humans were being overwhelmed by the zombie horde, still putting up a desperate fight. That’s when the high-tier zombies, who had been biding their time, finally joined the fray. After a brutal battle, the zombies’ sheer numbers won out. The humans were defeated. But zombies don’t share. As soon as the external fight ended, the high-tier zombies turned on each other, vying for the spoils. I don’t know who started it. All I heard was a piercing howl, and suddenly the horde split into factions. To avoid suspicion, I blended into one of the groups. Three-way chaos broke out. The high-tier zombies stood atop the rubble like alpha wolves, commanding their respective factions to attack. The low-tier zombies below clashed violently, while the high-tier ones above fought with vicious precision, each aiming for their opponent’s head to rip out the crystal cores inside.

Three high-tier zombies dominated the battlefield: one with teleportation abilities, one with tentacle-like appendages, and one with regeneration. The fight was absolute chaos—low-tier zombies tearing each other apart below, while the high-tier ones battled relentlessly above. The first to fall was the regenerating zombie. Its recovery speed was impressive, but its opponents were faster. The tentacle zombie wrapped around it, rendering it helpless. When it was finally thrown from the heights, it hit the ground with a sickening splat, reduced to a puddle of gore. The low-tier zombies it commanded scattered instantly. Obedience to high-tier zombies is instinctual, but that loyalty doesn’t extend to one that’s barely clinging to life. Up above, the tentacle zombie and teleportation zombie continued their heated battle, completely ignoring everything below. They were locked in a fight to the death. I seized the opportunity and moved toward the humans’ backpacks, hoping to loot their crystal cores. But another zombie moved faster than me. The puddle of gore that had once been the regenerating zombie had begun to twitch. By the time I noticed, it was already slithering toward the backpacks, its movements almost imperceptible. It was playing a clever game, pretending to be defeated. By faking its downfall, it had removed itself from everyone’s radar, allowing it to quietly approach the prize. But as the saying goes, “The mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind.” It didn’t expect someone else—me—to be watching. If zombies had a hierarchy of strength, and only the strong deserved to claim the spoils, why should I back down? As the regenerating zombie began to reform into a humanoid shape, I took control of the low-tier zombies nearby. “Roar,” I commanded them silently. The low-tier zombies howled on cue, drawing the attention of the two high-tier zombies above. Startled, the regenerating zombie froze.

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# In the university dorm chat group, someone complained: “The hallways are always full of trash. It’s summer, and the smell is unbearable! Why doesn’t anyone take care of it?” Someone else joked back: “Pretend to be a delivery guy and knock on the door of whichever dorm keeps piling up trash. When they open the door, stab them in the chest. If one stab doesn’t do it, make it two. Once they’re dead, pack the body in a suitcase and take it out—no one will ever notice!” Not long after, I received a message from my roommate: “Mia? I just got into bed, but there’s someone at the door saying they have a delivery. I didn’t order anything—did you?” 0Delivery? What delivery? I was about to reply and tell her I hadn’t ordered anything when a new message popped up in the dorm chat group. “I pretended to be a delivery guy and knocked, but the person inside said they didn’t order anything and told me to leave it at the door.” My fingers froze above the keyboard. A chilling sweat broke out on my palms. I quickly typed a trembling response to my roommate: “I didn’t order anything! Don’t open the door—no matter what!” The dorm chat group was exclusively for residents of Building 3. When we joined, the dorm manager had instructed everyone to include their room numbers as part of their usernames. At our university, dorm numbers are formatted with the first two digits indicating the floor, and the last two digits indicating the room. For example, my room number is 2201, meaning I live on the 22nd floor in the room farthest to the left. The person who had just sent the message was listed as 2200 in the group. To avoid revealing their exact location, some people only included their floor number in their username. The person joking about the “delivery prank” was listed as 2222—but our floor only has 20 rooms. That meant they were also on the 22nd floor but hadn’t included their full room number. This wasn’t the first time people had used fake usernames. Whenever someone wanted to post anonymously, they’d temporarily change their username. My roommate sent another message: “Mia, the delivery guy said the room number is correct. Are you sure you didn’t order anything?” My breathing quickened. What if she went to open the door after sending that message? I typed as fast as I could: “Don’t open the door! Whatever you do, don’t open the door! There’s a killer outside!” My roommate wasn’t in the group anymore. She’d left it a while back because she was tired of people arguing over petty issues. To make sure she understood, I quickly screenshotted the messages from the chat group and sent them to her. 0

“This is from our dorm chat group.” “That ‘delivery guy’ prank was 2222’s idea, and 2200 is the one carrying it out!” “Their goal is to kill you! Don’t open the door!” I sent her three messages in a row, hoping she’d realize how serious the situation was. She replied quickly: “Mia, this has to be some kind of joke. I mean, who would actually do something like this? We’re in college!” Her response made my heart sink. But I couldn’t give up. “It doesn’t matter if it’s a joke or not. I didn’t order anything, and you’re alone in the dorm. Just be careful, okay?” I had barely put my phone down when another message popped up in the group: 2222: “Did she open the door yet?” 2200: “Not yet, but I can hear movement inside. [knife emoji with blood]” 2222: “Don’t rush it. Wait for her to come out. By the way, there are two people in that dorm. Are you planning to kill them both, or just one?” 2200: “Just one. Killing two would be too much work. Besides, I’ve noticed only one person’s been coming back to that room at night recently. She always wears those stupid Crocs.” When I saw that message, my heart stopped. I’d just moved out of the dorm a few days ago, leaving my roommate alone. And she had a habit of wearing Crocs in the summer. The description matched our room perfectly. This wasn’t a joke. It couldn’t be. I immediately opened my roommate’s chat. Just then, my phone buzzed with a new message from her: “Mia, relax! Look.” She sent me two photos. 0

The pictures my roommate sent were blurry, likely taken by holding her phone’s camera close to the peephole. The first photo showed the delivery person bending down to pick up a takeout box. The second photo captured the delivery person walking away, their back to the camera. Roommate: “Mia, I was just about to go grab the takeout, but guess what happened when I got out of bed?” I quickly typed back: “What happened?” Roommate: “The delivery guy said he made a mistake. Apparently, he got the room number wrong when filling out the order, so it wasn’t for us after all.” Despite her reply, I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in my chest. The messages from the dorm group chat were just too strange. Who jokes about such specific and unrelated details? After thinking for a few seconds, I forwarded the suspicious messages from the dorm group to her. This time, her response wasn’t as quick, and I started to feel anxious. Just as I was about to call her through the app, she finally replied. Roommate: “These people in the group are insane. They’re always stirring up nonsense. Don’t you remember why I left the group in the first place?” Of course, I remembered. How could I forget? She hadn’t just left because of the constant bickering over trivial issues. There was one incident where a student posted a chilling message in the group: 22:** “@2204, I’m standing outside your dorm. Keep talking that loudly, and you’ll never speak again. Dead people are the quietest!”** The message sent everyone on the 22nd floor into a panic, keeping them up all night. The dorm manager tried to reassure us by coming to investigate, but they found no one outside the dorm—it was just a prank. That incident had been the last straw for my roommate. She left the group to avoid the stress altogether. Roommate: “Every time, it’s the same thing in this group. Some small issue gets blown way out of proportion. It’s exhausting!” Her message calmed me down a bit. I realized my panic had caused unnecessary stress for her. To ease the tension, I sent her an apology: “Emma, I’m sorry for overreacting. I just got really worried and forgot about the other stuff.” After sending the message, I decided to focus on my work and stop checking my phone. But just as I was about to close the app, a new message from the dorm group caught my eye. 0

2211: “Hey, sorry about that! I accidentally put 2201 as the room number when I ordered takeout. I hope it didn’t cause any trouble!” 2222: “So it really was a mistake?” 2211: “[awkward emoji] Yeah, my bad! But honestly, your conversations are super creepy. Maybe don’t joke about stuff like that.” 2222: “Got it, got it.” 2200: “Wow, scared already? That was just one method, you know.” Seeing the conversation, I finally let out a deep breath. It seemed like I’d been overthinking. But as I was about to close the app, something about 2211’s message struck me. She said she’d ordered porridge. I immediately reopened my chat with my roommate and pulled up the first photo she’d sent of the delivery. Zooming in on the takeout packaging, I noticed something odd. The container in the photo was a plastic box. But at our school, porridge is always served in paper cups. Which meant the delivery person in the photo wasn’t from 2211’s order. Someone else had gone to our dorm. And then I remembered 2200’s last message: “That was just one method.” It was 2200. She really had gone to our dorm! This wasn’t like the earlier pranks where nothing happened. This time, it was real—a planned attack. My heart started pounding as I frantically opened my roommate’s chat and called her. The call connected but was immediately declined. Panicking, I sent her a message: “Emma, what are you doing?!” The chat showed that she was typing a reply, but no message came through. I sent another message: “Did you open the door?!” 0

This time, she replied quickly: “No!” A second message came right after: “Mia, I’m scared to talk. There’s someone in the hallway.” She attached a photo. The image was mostly dark, but at the bottom, there was a narrow strip of light. I stared at the picture and realized the light was coming from the gap beneath the door. It meant she hadn’t turned on the dorm lights, and the sound-activated lights in the hallway had been triggered. Wait. I zoomed in on the photo, focusing on the strip of light. In the middle of the light, there were two shadowy shapes. Legs. Someone was standing directly outside her door. It was the “delivery person.” They hadn’t left. Just as I was about to send her another message, she sent me a video. The video was dark, but the audio was clear—loud, frantic knocking on the door. Roommate: “Mia, the peephole’s been covered. I can’t see who’s out there! Someone’s knocking nonstop [scared emoji].” Me: “Emma, don’t panic. I’ve already called the police. Stay inside and don’t make a sound!” Roommate: “Where’s the dorm manager?! Why haven’t they shown up yet? [sweating emoji]” I checked the time. It was 10 p.m.—shift change for the dorm managers. During this time, the managers for different shifts often chatted for a few minutes while switching duties. That “few minutes” wasn’t fixed, and given how urgent the situation was, I didn’t have time to wait. I quickly found the duty schedule and called the current dorm manager’s number. But the call wouldn’t go through—it just kept ringing.

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# I deliberately smashed the glass doors of a shopping mall and turned myself in to the police. My wife, furious, stormed in after me, yelling, “Why would you turn yourself in? This is something we could’ve fixed with money!” I shrugged, raising my hands as the officers cuffed me and led me into custody. Why? Because in my last life, her so-called soulmate—her childhood friend—came crawling back to her after his business failed. He staged a car accident, killed someone, and pinned the blame on me. All for the sake of stealing my multi-million-dollar fortune. What followed was a nightmare. The victim’s family and the media hounded me relentlessly, convinced I was the one behind the crime. Every piece of evidence—every surveillance video—showed my face. Even my wife insisted I’d done it, claiming I acted out of revenge and an unhinged desire to lash out at the world. In the end, I was stabbed to death by the victim’s family in front of a crowd. And then, I woke up. I was back on the day her soulmate staged the accident.

“Zach Sullivan, why are you doing this? It’s just money—we can pay for the damages! Why are you turning yourself in? Are you insane?” My wife, Hannah, was rushing toward me, her face flushed with anger. I simply raised my hands as the officer cuffed me. “Hannah, when you make a mistake, you own up to it. I caused damage and scared a lot of people. I need to reflect on my actions.” Hannah immediately pulled out a wad of cash, thrusting it toward the officer. “We have money—take it! Just don’t arrest my husband!” The officer frowned, clearly unimpressed. “Ma’am, mistakes have consequences. He’s coming with us.” “Take him away.” Hannah trembled with rage, but no matter how much she begged or argued, I stuck to my decision—I was going to take responsibility. Because of my “good attitude,” I was only sentenced to seven days in custody for reflection. Seven days where I couldn’t leave the detention center. Seven days of freedom from her. And for the first time in a long time, I felt an overwhelming sense of peace. In my last life, my wife had a “true love” named Liam Reed—her childhood sweetheart, the one she never quite let go of. The moment Liam showed up in town, it was like her heart was pulled in his direction. She was never home, always disappearing to meet him. One night, after another fight, I finally snapped. “If you go see Liam one more time, we’re done. I’ll file for divorce.” She didn’t even hesitate. She slammed the door and didn’t come home that night. The next day, Liam caused a catastrophe. Driving recklessly, he hit and killed a woman—an eight-months-pregnant woman. It was a horrific accident. I begged him to turn himself in, to take responsibility and compensate the victim’s family. But Liam just smirked. “Who said I did it? It wasn’t me—it was you.” At first, I thought it was some kind of sick joke. But when I checked the car’s dashcam footage and nearby surveillance cameras, all of them showed my face. I was framed. No one believed me—not even my wife. She told everyone that I’d become unhinged because of our failing marriage and decided to take my anger out on the world. The media ran wild with the story, painting me as a monster. I tried desperately to defend myself, but when the victim’s family finally found me, their grief turned into rage. One of them stabbed me on the spot. As I lay bleeding to death, I couldn’t understand why this was happening. Why had Liam gone to such lengths to destroy me? This time, I wasn’t going to let history repeat itself. I’d already taken the first step—putting myself in custody, far away from Liam’s schemes.

Seven days later, I walked out of the detention center. Breathing in the cool morning air under the soft glow of the rising sun, I felt a rare sense of relief. This time, I had spent the entire seven days locked up, completely avoiding any of the disasters from my past life—or so I thought. I had barely taken a few steps when someone grabbed my arm, their eyes bloodshot, and began shouting at the top of their lungs. “It’s him! This bastard killed my pregnant daughter!” A crowd of reporters, who had clearly been waiting outside, rushed forward. Microphones and cameras were shoved in my face as questions flew from every direction. “Zach Sullivan, are you here to confess to the hit-and-run?” “Why did you kill an innocent pregnant woman?” Photographers snapped pictures relentlessly, the flashing lights blinding me. Passersby on the street heard the commotion and started gathering. Once they recognized me, they began whispering, their voices sharp and accusing. “Isn’t he the guy from the news? The one who ran over that pregnant lady and fled?” “Yeah, that’s him! What a monster—he killed two lives in one blow!” “People like him don’t deserve to live!” I stood there, eyebrows furrowed, my mind racing. What the hell was going on? I had been in detention for the past seven days—how could this possibly involve me? “You’ve got it all wrong!” I shouted. “There’s no way I’d run over a pregnant woman!” But the victim’s father, still gripping my arm, grew even more furious. His face twisted with rage, and if I hadn’t been stronger, his fists might have already landed on me. One of the reporters shoved their phone in my face, showing me a video. My heart sank. My pupils dilated as the footage played. It was dashcam footage. In it, I was behind the wheel, grinning maniacally. The car sped up, heading straight for a pregnant woman on the sidewalk. I watched as the car hit her, sending her flying. In the video, my face was clear as day. My voice rang out, exaggerated and mocking, filled with cruel amusement: “Oops, sorry! Guess today’s just not your lucky day!” Then, the video showed my wife, Hannah, rushing over and yanking me out of the driver’s seat. “Zach Sullivan! What the hell are you doing? How could you do something so reckless?” The footage continued. In it, I shoved Hannah roughly to the ground, got back in the car, and drove off. The video ended there. My face darkened as I processed what I had just seen. This was exactly what had happened in my past life. But I had been in the detention center for seven days. How could this have happened again? “You still think you can explain this away?” The victim’s father was trembling with rage, veins bulging on his forehead. My arm began to ache under his grip. The crowd around us was growing more hostile by the second, their anger palpable. “It’s him! There’s no doubt about it!” “What kind of monster runs over a pregnant woman and then drives off laughing?” “I heard he didn’t just hit her—he reversed and ran over her several more times!” “Yeah, they said she might’ve survived the first hit, but after that, there was no chance. This guy deserves to rot in hell!” Sweat dripped down my forehead as I tried to explain. “I’ve been in detention for the past seven days! How could I have done this?” The victim’s father lunged at me, his head slamming into mine. “The man in the video is clearly you! If it wasn’t you, who else could it be?” I stumbled back, my forehead throbbing in pain. “It’s Liam Reed!” I shouted desperately. “He’s my wife’s so-called soulmate. He’s the one who did it, not me—he’s framing me!” Before I could say more, a familiar voice cut through the chaos. “Zach Sullivan, enough already! Do you really think hiding in the detention center would solve anything?” Hannah was standing in front of me, her expression livid. I glared at her, disbelief coursing through me. Before I could respond, a sharp pain shot through my back. I stumbled forward—someone had kicked me hard in the waist. I turned around to see him: Liam Reed. “Zach, how much longer are you going to keep lying?” Liam sneered, his voice dripping with contempt.

“It wasn’t me! Why would I confess to something I didn’t do?” I gritted my teeth, suppressing the pain, and shouted with all my strength. Hannah, my wife, slapped me hard across the face. “Zach Sullivan, what have you become?” she snapped. “If you’ve done something wrong, own up to it! What are you, a child? Stop trying to dodge responsibility!” I swallowed my rising anger and tried to explain again. “I told you—it wasn’t me! The fact that you’re so desperate to frame me shows you’re hiding something!” Liam Reed, standing smugly nearby, delivered another vicious kick to my side. “Zach, the evidence is overwhelming, and you’re still denying it?” he sneered. “People like you don’t deserve fair trials. You should just be executed on the spot!” His words struck a nerve with the reporters, who immediately turned their cameras toward him. Liam’s righteous performance was exactly what they wanted to hear—someone condemning me, a supposed monster who ran over a pregnant woman, killing her and her unborn child. The crowd erupted. “Execute him right here!” “Why waste time with a trial? He deserves to rot in hell for what he’s done!” “Do you know how many lives he destroyed? Two lives gone in an instant!” As the mob grew angrier, a man with bloodshot eyes suddenly pushed his way through the crowd. In his hand was a knife. The sight of the blade sent shivers through the crowd. People stepped back cautiously, unsure of what he might do. The man’s voice cracked with rage as he pointed the knife at me. “Zach Sullivan, you bastard! Give me back my wife! Give me back my child!” This was the husband of the pregnant woman who had been killed. The man who had been eagerly awaiting the birth of his child, only to lose everything in one horrific moment. Now, he had only one thought in his mind: an eye for an eye. He raised the knife high, ready to plunge it into my chest. I was pinned to the ground, powerless to move. Cold sweat dripped down my face as my mind raced. Was this how it would end—again? I had been given a second chance at life, but was I doomed to meet the same fate? I clenched my fists, struggling with everything I had, but it was no use. Just as I was about to give up, a baton swung through the air, knocking the knife out of the man’s hand. A young police officer stepped in, shouting, “What the hell are you all doing? Everyone, step back!” Hannah and Liam immediately took a step back, clearly startled. But the victim’s family wasn’t ready to let go. They tackled me to the ground again, their grief and fury reaching a boiling point. “Officer, save me!” I shouted desperately. Hannah sighed dramatically and muttered, “Zach, even the police are here now. Just confess already.” From behind her, Liam chimed in, his voice filled with false indignation. “That’s right! The police wouldn’t be here if you weren’t guilty. Stop lying!” The officer frowned and turned to me. “What’s going on here, Zach? You just got out of detention. How are you already involved in something like this?” The victim’s husband screamed, his voice raw with grief. “It’s him! He killed my wife and child! Two lives, gone in an instant! Please, officer, we need justice!” The crowd roared in agreement, their anger building again. “He’s a monster! He deserves the death penalty!” “Yeah! He drove over her again and again—how could anyone do that?” The officer’s expression darkened. “Hold on,” he said firmly. “Yesterday? Zach has been in custody for the past seven days. There’s no way he could’ve done this.” The crowd fell silent for a moment, stunned by the revelation. “What? That’s impossible!” the victim’s husband stammered. Liam’s face twitched slightly, and he quickly ducked into the crowd, raising his voice in a shrill tone to redirect their anger. “Officer, are you seriously trying to cover for a murderer?” he shouted. Hannah immediately caught on, her voice sharp and cutting. “That’s right! I’m his wife, and I can testify that Zach is guilty! Are you seriously going to let him get away with this?” The crowd surged forward again, emboldened by her words. Cameras and microphones turned toward the officer, capturing his every move. The officer hesitated, frowning as he took a small step back. Hannah’s voice grew louder, more piercing. “Officer, don’t tell me you’ve been bribed by Zach Sullivan! He’s rich—he thinks he can do whatever he wants!” The crowd’s anger reached a fever pitch. The victim’s family pinned me to the ground, their hands trembling with rage. It felt like they would tear me apart at any moment. The officer’s face hardened. “That’s enough! We don’t take bribes. If you don’t believe me, you can come to the station and check the records yourself!” Hearing this, the crowd began to waver. For a moment, the chaos seemed to subside. But then, Hannah and Liam exchanged a glance. Hannah suddenly shouted, “We have more evidence!” My heart sank. With a triumphant gleam in her eyes, she stepped forward, glaring at me. “Zach, you thought you could bribe the police and get away with it? Think again! Look who we brought here!” She stepped aside, and an elderly man slowly walked out from behind her. He approached me, his expression stern and filled with righteous fury. Pointing a trembling finger at me, he declared loudly, “It’s him! He’s the one who killed that poor woman and her child!” I froze, my mind reeling. “Dad?” I whispered in disbelief.

I stared at my dad in disbelief, my entire body trembling as my breathing became shallow and rapid. How could this be happening? Why was my dad pointing his finger at me? Did he really see something? But I’d spent the past seven days in detention. I hadn’t done anything! No, it couldn’t be—it was impossible! What the hell was going on? The crowd erupted again. “That’s Zach Sullivan’s dad?” “Even his own father is stepping forward to accuse him! He’s definitely guilty! What else is there to say?” The bystanders became even more agitated, their voices growing louder and more hostile. “Zach, stop pretending! You selfish, heartless bastard, how much longer are you going to keep up this act?” Hannah shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos. I yelled back at the top of my lungs, “I didn’t do it! Why should I confess to a crime I didn’t commit?” A thought suddenly struck me. “That’s right—I’ve been in the detention center for the past seven days! I want the surveillance footage! It’ll prove my innocence!” I turned to the officer behind me, who looked just as confused as I felt. He knew I’d been in custody for the last week. But now, with the crowd so certain of my guilt, with the video evidence and my father’s testimony, doubt clouded his expression. As the crowd grew more unruly, the officer quickly pulled out his phone and made a call. “I’ve sent someone to retrieve the footage. Everyone, calm down!” The officer’s reassurances did little to quell the mob, but after a few tense minutes, another officer arrived with the surveillance tapes from the detention center. If the previous video had been fabricated, the detention center’s cameras couldn’t be faked. I glanced at Hannah and Liam. I had intentionally stayed in detention for this very reason—I’d been waiting for this moment. Let’s see how they explain themselves now. Hannah’s expression faltered, a flicker of unease crossing her face. Liam, who had been loudly shouting moments ago, suddenly furrowed his brow. The officer inserted the footage and began fast-forwarding through it. Sure enough, the video clearly showed me inside the detention center, behaving just as I should. “Now what do you have to say, Hannah?” I demanded, my voice rising with anger. Hannah hesitated, unable to respond. But Liam suddenly shouted, “Wait! Something’s not right!” He pointed at a section of the footage. “Look! That person leaving the detention center… doesn’t that look like Zach?” The grainy footage showed a figure in a yellow coat walking out of the detention center. Though the image was blurry, the coat was identical to the one I’d been wearing when I was detained. I froze. Hannah’s lips curled into a triumphant smile. “Zach, are you seriously going to deny that’s you? You must’ve bribed someone to let you out! You left to commit the crime and then snuck back in—didn’t you?” Her words sent the crowd into another frenzy, and they turned their attention to the officers. “What’s going on here? You said you weren’t covering for him, so who’s that in the footage?” The officer, visibly flustered, glanced at me. He remembered my yellow coat—it was hard to forget. I’d chosen it specifically because it stood out. I stared at the screen, my scalp tingling as a cold chill ran down my spine. “That’s not me,” I said through gritted teeth. “I’ve been here the entire time! It’s impossible for me to have left, even for a second!” Hannah, sensing the shift in momentum, doubled down. “Zach, you’re a disgusting excuse for a human being. You killed a pregnant woman and her child, and now you’re trying to worm your way out of it?” Liam, emboldened by the crowd, screeched, “Yeah! You’re a piece of trash who thinks money can solve everything. You deserve to burn for this!” The victim’s family, already overwhelmed with grief and anger, had reached their breaking point. One of them quietly picked up the knife that had fallen to the ground earlier. His eyes burned with hatred as he stared at me. If the officers so much as blinked, I knew he’d plunge that knife straight into my chest. “Damn it, it really is him! What’s the point of all this talking? He’s guilty!” “He must’ve bribed one of the guards to let him out for a few hours. He committed the crime and then snuck back in like nothing happened!” The victim’s husband, knife in hand, pushed past the officers protecting me. “Give me back my wife and child, you bastard!” he roared, lunging toward me. Another family member followed close behind, their fury blinding them to reason. I was frozen in place, panic surging through me. There was no way to escape. But then, just as I thought it was all over, a voice rang out behind me. “Stop right there! I can prove Zach Sullivan is innocent!” Hearing those words, I finally exhaled, relief washing over me. The person I’d been waiting for had arrived.

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The Beginning of a Nightmare ## The news of Christopher Gray, CEO of Gray Group, proposing to Evelyn Reed on a global live broadcast had taken the world by storm. As I walked home, I couldn’t avoid the massive billboard across the street showing the two of them locked in an embrace, their kiss frozen in time for everyone to admire. People were envious of Evelyn’s seemingly perfect life. But I knew the truth—if Evelyn ever fell in love with Christopher Gray, it would mark the beginning of her nightmare. Because no matter how much she dreamed, she could never become Mrs. Gray. Her moment in the spotlight would end with this grand proposal, no matter how dazzling it seemed. I had just stepped out of the grocery store with a bag of everyday essentials and a few ingredients for dinner. Cooking had become my way of passing time, a small distraction from the monotony of life. As I lifted my head, the giant screen on the skyscraper across the street caught my eye. Christopher Gray and a young woman were shown in a close embrace, their chemistry practically leaping off the screen. Even through a screen, their gazes lingered on each other, electric and intimate. He was tall, sharp-featured, and impossibly handsome. She was delicate and breathtakingly beautiful. They looked like the perfect couple, a match seemingly made in heaven. I recognized her immediately—Evelyn Reed. By now, everyone knew her name. She seemed to be one of those rare people blessed by the universe itself: stunning good looks, a petite, graceful figure, and eyes that could captivate anyone. It was said that from the moment Christopher Gray first saw her, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Love at first sight, they called it. And from that moment on, he poured his heart and soul into pursuing her. He orchestrated grand romantic gestures—naming his latest jewelry line after her, dedicating new luxury apartment buildings to her, even naming an amusement park after her. Everywhere Evelyn went, there were traces of Christopher Gray’s devotion. Standing on the sidewalk, I overheard two girls sipping bubble tea as they stared at the screen. “I’m so jealous of Evelyn,” one sighed. “Imagine having someone love you that much.” “Forget love,” the other replied. “Do you know how rich Christopher Gray is? That’s the real dream.” “She must’ve saved the entire galaxy in her past life to deserve this,” the first one added wistfully. I lowered my gaze and smiled faintly. If Evelyn didn’t love Christopher, maybe she could enjoy the life he was offering her. But most women would fall for a man like him, especially one who created a world of romance just for them. And Evelyn? An orphan who’d grown up with nothing? She didn’t stand a chance. My phone buzzed, pulling me out of my thoughts. I glanced at the screen: “Hannah, I know who you are.” Two days ago, Evelyn Reed had added me on WhatsApp after getting my contact information through Christopher. I hesitated at first but ended up accepting her friend request. Now she’d sent me another message: “I’m getting engaged to Christopher soon. If you know what’s good for you, stay away from him.” I didn’t bother replying. Instead, I grabbed my groceries and made my way to the apartment complex across the street. When I reached my building, I noticed a sleek Porsche parked outside, gleaming under the streetlights. It was Christopher’s car. Dealing with Christopher Gray had always been a headache. He loved surrounding himself with beautiful women, which was his business. But for some reason, he never seemed willing to leave me alone.

I took the elevator up to my floor, and the moment I opened the door, Christopher greeted me. He took the grocery bag from my hands and grabbed a pair of slippers from the rack. “You’re back?” he asked casually. “What’s for dinner tonight?” He spoke like we were an old married couple, his tone natural and familiar, as if he belonged here. I sighed, took the slippers from him, and sat down on the bench to change shoes. Meanwhile, he carried the groceries into the kitchen like he owned the place. “How about braised pork?” he asked, glancing at me as he tied the bunny-print apron hanging by the wall around his waist. The sight was almost comically domestic. I leaned against the kitchen doorframe, watching as the exhaust fan hummed in the background, drowning out the quiet tension in the room. Christopher moved around the kitchen with ease, as if he’d done this a hundred times before. “Braised pork sounds fine,” I said finally. “But what are you doing here? Don’t you have work?” “Nothing urgent at the office,” he replied with a smile. “Oh, by the way, the pink diamond necklace you wanted has been set. I brought it over for you.” “Christopher,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “We need to talk.” “Sure,” he said easily, tilting his head and flashing me a boyish grin. He had a face that seemed to have been crafted with care—handsome, charismatic, and utterly disarming. “Evelyn Reed,” I began, meeting his gaze. “You proposed to her on a global live broadcast. You arranged a citywide light show for her birthday. You even filled the sky with fireworks for her.” “And earlier this year, when she was in a car accident and needed a blood transfusion, you made a big public scene about it.” “Christopher, with your resources, you could’ve handled all of those things quietly. But you didn’t. You wanted the whole world to know how much you love her.” Christopher chuckled lightly as he sliced the meat. “Exactly,” he said. “When you’re trying to win someone over, you have to go all out. A little showmanship never hurts.” “Girls love this kind of thing.” The meat went into the pot, and the blue flame flickered beneath it. I sighed. “So, are you planning to marry her?” I asked. Christopher turned to look at me, his smile as charming as ever. “Hannah,” he said smoothly, “how could I possibly marry her?” “She’s just a bit of fun. Life’s too long not to enjoy a little romance along the way.” “I’m young. Why not indulge in a few fleeting adventures while I can?” I had expected this answer. But I tried to reason with him anyway. “Christopher, you could marry her. I’ll talk to my family, convince them to support the idea. We can finalize our divorce. Yes, splitting the assets would be tricky, but—” Before I could finish, Christopher waved me off, laughing. “Hannah, don’t tell me you’ve fallen for some young boy,” he teased. “Who is it? Some hotshot actor? A college kid?” “Let me meet him first. I’ll judge if he’s worthy of you.” The words I wanted to say caught in my throat.

Christopher glanced at me, his smile calm and unshaken. “If there’s no one else,” he said lightly, “then let’s drop this subject altogether.” “Everyone needs a legally recognized partner in life. If I have to choose, I want it to be you—now and forever.” I sighed deeply. There was no reasoning with him. “You’re toying with Evelyn’s feelings,” I said bluntly, unable to hide my frustration. “When have I ever toyed with anyone’s feelings?” Christopher’s tone remained even. “She came from nothing, and I gave her wealth, security, and everything she could ever dream of.” “I even created the kind of romance she wanted.” “In this relationship, I’ve given my time, my energy, and my sincerity.” “Every time, I’ve been serious.” “As for the rest, if she’s smart, she’ll understand.” I understood. But that didn’t mean everyone else would. My childhood was spent abroad, watching my father surrounded by countless lovers—both men and women. It became normal for me to see relationships tangled and messy. I hated it. I longed for the kind of love I read about in books: two people, committed to each other for life, growing old hand in hand. But I knew that wasn’t realistic. My older brother had once jokingly said something crude: “If a rich man isn’t cheating, it’s because he’s either ugly or broke.” In elite families like ours, the idea of staying loyal to one person forever was laughable. I met Christopher Gray when I was seventeen. By eighteen, my family had arranged for us to marry, signing a contract that tied our fates together. I didn’t object. After all, if I had to marry for the sake of family alliances, wasn’t it a blessing that my match happened to be someone as devastatingly handsome as Christopher? Later, I returned to this city to attend college and started living a quiet, almost reclusive life. I avoided parties, social events, and all the performative aspects of being a public figure. I hated being in the spotlight, hated the empty conversations of charity galas and the superficial smiles that came with them. Instead, I spent my time watching TV shows, reading novels, and working on my art. Christopher would visit me occasionally. We’d cook together, share meals, and talk about mundane things. Sometimes, he’d stay overnight, but he always slept in the guest room while I stayed in the master bedroom. It was a peaceful, uneventful existence. But tonight’s dinner didn’t go the way it usually did. Just as we set the food on the table, a loud knock echoed through the apartment. I thought it might be the building manager, but when I opened the door, Evelyn stood there, her face pale and stormy. The woman who had become the envy of everyone—rumored to have it all, both love and money—looked anything but glamorous now. The moment she saw me, she raised her hand to slap me. I caught her wrist mid-air. I’d trained in self-defense and taekwondo; dealing with someone like her was hardly a challenge. “Are you here to see Christopher?” I asked calmly. Her eyes immediately filled with tears, and her voice trembled as she pointed at me, shouting: “Hannah, do you have no shame? Stealing someone else’s boyfriend?” Her anger was so intense she could barely form a coherent sentence. I reached into the shoe cabinet, pulling out a pair of spare slippers. “If you’re here, you might as well join us for dinner,” I said with a small smile. “Christopher’s braised pork is pretty good.” Before she could respond, Christopher grabbed the slippers from my hand and tossed them back into the cabinet. Instantly, his expression hardened, his charming demeanor vanishing. “What are you doing here?” he demanded coldly, his voice sharp and unyielding. “Go home,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Don’t make me say it again.” Evelyn’s beautiful eyes brimmed with tears, glistening so heartbreakingly that even I felt a pang of discomfort just looking at her. So, I turned to Christopher and said, “You should take Miss Reed home and explain everything to her.” Then, worried Evelyn might get the wrong idea, I added with a light smile, “Miss Reed, I’m not Mr. Gray’s lover.” Because I wasn’t. I was merely his wife in name only. Christopher would never love me. He couldn’t. All his grand displays of affection were for Evelyn—or perhaps shared among others. Maybe that’s why I never let myself fall for him. Because when I looked at Christopher and Evelyn, I could stay detached, calm, and unaffected. Like watching a TV drama. No matter how gripping the plot was, I was just an outsider. Christopher’s expression darkened slightly. I guessed he hadn’t expected Evelyn, the naïve girl he’d pampered for over a year, to storm in like this, catching him off guard. If anything, I should’ve felt awkward, embarrassed, maybe even ashamed. After all, I was the one caught in the middle of this mess. But Evelyn wasn’t ready to leave. For the past year and a half, Christopher had chased her relentlessly, making her believe she was his one and only. To Evelyn, she wasn’t just his priority—she was irreplaceable, the center of his world. And now, discovering that the man who worshipped her might care about someone else? It shattered everything. “Chris,” Evelyn choked out, pointing at me in anger. “Tell me, who is she to you?” “Do you think I don’t know?” “She’s just your little pet, isn’t she? A goldfinch you keep in a cage.” Her voice cracked as she continued, “You said you loved me. You said I was the only one for you.” The situation was getting awkward, so I stepped back, giving them space to argue. Christopher grabbed her arm and dragged her out into the hallway, his face cold. I quietly shut the door. I didn’t pay for VIP access to this drama, so I had no interest in hearing or seeing what came next. I assumed Christopher would leave with Evelyn. After all, everyone said he loved her desperately, passionately, with the kind of devotion that could move mountains. But about thirty minutes later, Christopher returned. He walked in to find me sitting cross-legged on the couch, eating dinner and laughing at some sitcom on TV. His expression darkened as he scolded, “Hannah, can’t you be a little more careful?” I blinked at him, confused. “Careful about what?” He ignored me, grabbed a bottle of red wine, and poured himself a glass. I shook my head. That particular bottle of wine was one my brother had brought me from a French vineyard. I’d kept it on the shelf because the bottle looked nice and added a touch of elegance to the apartment. Now Christopher was drinking it like it was tap water. “Someone knocked on your door, and you didn’t even check who it was first,” he said, his tone accusatory. “What if it had been someone dangerous?” “Hannah, listen to me,” he continued. “You shouldn’t stay here anymore. This building’s security is a joke. I’ve already prepared a place for you at Pear Ridge Estate. You can move there in a few days.” I shook my head. Pear Ridge Estate was a luxury villa complex, a playground for the wealthy. The grounds were meticulously maintained, but everything felt artificial—too polished, too calculated. The place lacked warmth, like wearing a mask all the time. Here, in this modest apartment complex, you could hear neighbors arguing, kids laughing, dogs barking. It was messy and alive, full of humanity. Even if I didn’t fully belong here, I felt more human being surrounded by it. “Even if I’d asked who was at the door, and Evelyn said her name, do you think I wouldn’t have opened it?” I asked with a smile. Christopher didn’t reply. Instead, he casually added a piece of braised pork to mine. “You’re too thin,” he said, his tone softening. “Eat more.” For a moment, the scene felt familiar, comfortable. Like we’d been married forever, with no need for formalities or polite distance. He didn’t seem like the CEO of a massive corporation, and I—well, I was still just me. His phone buzzed, pulling him out of the moment. He glanced down at the screen, and from where I was sitting, I caught a glimpse of his reaction. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as his expression shifted into something… different. Curiosity got the better of me, and I leaned over to peek at his phone. A photo filled the screen. A young woman dressed in a maid costume, complete with bunny ears, black stockings, and impossibly long legs.

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Title: My Girlfriend Planned a Beach Proposal, but I Found Her Kissing Her “First Love” Instead # After my girlfriend’s 99th dramatic breakup, she surprised me by apologizing and inviting me to the beach to “clear the air.” When I arrived, I saw a beautifully decorated proposal setup and immediately assumed it was her usual game of playing hard to get. For three years, this had been her style: make me sad and frustrated, only to turn it into a “surprise” that was supposed to make me happy again. So, I put on my best suit, ready to accept her proposal, only to find her kissing her “first love” in front of an applauding crowd. That’s when it hit me—one-sided love is meaningless. But as I boarded the train to leave, she called me, crying and begging for a chance to explain. “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” On the beach, my girlfriend, Summer, and her “first love,” Chase, were locked in a passionate kiss, urged on by the cheering crowd around them. And I was just… standing there, watching. My chest felt like it was being ripped apart, and my vision blurred with tears. I looked down at the suit I had picked so carefully, at the bouquet of 999 roses I’d bought just for her. Suddenly, I felt like the biggest fool in the world. Today was the 99th time Summer had threatened to break up with me. But for the first time, she’d actually apologized and asked me to join her for a day at the beach. As soon as I arrived and saw the elaborate proposal decorations, I thought I understood what was happening. This was just another one of her tricks—a game of push and pull. For three years, she’d loved to toy with my emotions, making me feel hurt and neglected before delivering some grand surprise to “make it up to me.” Like on my birthday. She had pretended to forget it entirely and spent the whole day out with Chase, leaving me waiting at home. After I’d sat there alone for hours, watching the dinner I’d prepared grow cold, she finally came back with a cake. She smeared frosting on my face, giggling as she said, “Surprised? Happy birthday, Ryan!” Or on our anniversary. She stood me up at the restaurant, leaving me sitting alone at a table while strangers whispered about the guy who’d been ghosted. When the restaurant finally closed, she waltzed in with perfect hair and makeup. “Even if the restaurant’s closed, I still showed up. Isn’t that romantic?” Every time, my emotions were dragged through highs and lows, like a rollercoaster I couldn’t get off. I’d told her how much I hated these kinds of “surprises,” begged her to stop playing these games. But she never took it seriously. So this time, I thought it was just more of the same. Breaking up was just the “low,” and this proposal would be the “high.” I let go of my earlier frustration and sadness, convincing myself that this was finally the moment I’d been waiting for. After all, I’d always wanted to marry her. For years, Summer had insisted on delaying marriage, claiming she wanted to focus on her career. But now, I thought she was finally ready to commit. Excited, I went all out. I rented a tailored suit from a boutique and bought the biggest, most beautiful bouquet of roses I could find. I rushed back to the beach, ready to say yes to her proposal. But instead… I saw her kissing Chase, their faces glowing with happiness as the crowd cheered them on. I clenched my fists so tightly my nails dug into my palms. My chest felt like it was being torn apart. How could she do this? We’d been together for so long, and she’d never even kissed me. Summer had always told me she was a conservative person. She wanted to save her first kiss for our wedding day. So for three years, I respected her boundaries. The most we ever did was hold hands—and even that depended on her mood. But now… Now she was kissing Chase in front of everyone, without hesitation, without shame. I felt cold all over, like every part of me had been rejected. She wasn’t conservative. She wasn’t shy. She just didn’t want me. Suddenly, everything made sense. The constant delays, her refusal to marry me—it was never about her career. She was waiting for Chase. I stood there for what felt like an eternity, the salty breeze drying my tears until my eyes stung. The whole time, Summer didn’t even notice me. At that moment, I realized how pointless it all was. Loving someone who doesn’t love you back is the most meaningless thing in the world. I let out a quiet sigh, tossed the flowers into the trash, and turned to leave. Afterward, I returned the suit, changed back into my own clothes, and went home. Once there, I began packing my things, determined to end things with Summer for good. While sorting through my belongings, I stumbled upon a dusty pink diamond necklace tucked away in the corner of a drawer. It was the first gift I ever bought for her, something I had saved up my entire first paycheck to afford. It was also supposed to be our “promise” gift. I had never once seen her wear it. When I asked, she claimed she had accidentally lost it. But here it was, sitting untouched, still in its original packaging, collecting dust in a forgotten corner. I had offered it to her with so much love, and she had dismissed it without a second thought. For years, she had treated me with indifference, breaking up with me more times than I could count. And yet, I had fooled myself into believing there was love between us. The truth was, Summer had never let go of Chase. Her games of “push and pull” were nothing more than excuses to openly get closer to him. They grew up together, childhood friends who naturally became a couple in college. But they broke up because of clashing personalities, and Chase had left her behind to study abroad. Even after the breakup, their connection lingered, messy and unresolved. I had only entered the picture after their split, helping her move on from the heartbreak. There was a time when we were happy together. Before Chase came back, no matter how angry Summer got, she never actually broke up with me. She even remembered small details about me—like my allergy to spicy food. But once Chase returned, everything changed. Suddenly, she was picking fights and breaking up with me on a whim. Her heart was no longer with me. She even forgot about my allergy, putting chili peppers in our meals multiple times, which sent me to the hospital for stomach pumps and IV drips. Back then, I lied to myself. I told myself she was just too busy to remember these things, that she still loved me even if she was bad at showing it. But now? Now I could finally see the truth. I had been in love with an illusion, convincing myself there was something real between us when there never was. I’d had enough. Enough disappointment, enough heartbreak. It was time to let go and start over. Just as I finished packing my bags and was about to leave, Summer walked through the door. She looked surprised to see me. Then her expression shifted into a frown, full of annoyance. “Why didn’t you come to the beach today?” she asked, her tone sharp. After a pause, she lowered her gaze and added, almost dismissively, “Not that it matters. It’s all over now.” I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. She had no idea I’d been there. No idea I’d seen her and Chase locked in that passionate kiss. Of course, she wouldn’t have noticed me. She had been so caught up in the moment, so lost in her happiness with him. I was exhausted—years of trying, years of hoping for something that would never come. Love that isn’t returned isn’t love worth keeping. With that thought, I took a deep breath, looked her in the eyes, and said, slowly and clearly: “We’re done.”

“What? Can you stop being so unreasonable?” Summer’s eyes widened as she stared at me, utterly stunned. She clearly hadn’t expected someone who had always loved her unconditionally to suddenly suggest a breakup. But my tone was calm. “I’m not being unreasonable. I’m serious.” “You kissed Chase. What’s the point of continuing this relationship?” Summer froze at my words, her expression faltering for just a moment before a flicker of guilt crossed her face. “You… you saw that? When did you—” Before she could finish, I cut her off with a bitter laugh. “Right when you and Chase were so caught up in your kiss. You two really make a perfect match.” Summer paused, then shot me a cold glare, her tone sharpening with anger. “And whose fault is that? If you hadn’t been late, Chase wouldn’t have had to kiss me to diffuse the situation!” “We agreed to meet at ten, but you didn’t show up until eleven. Do you know how humiliated I felt, standing there while everyone was ridiculing me?” “And if you had arrived, why didn’t you come find me? Were you just standing there watching, hoping to see me embarrassed?” I was speechless for a moment. She was the one who had done something wrong, yet somehow she managed to twist it around and make it my fault. Besides, I clearly remember sending her a message when I went to rent the suit and buy the flowers. Seems like she hadn’t even bothered to check. Chase calls her once, and she’ll drop everything—even a meeting—to answer. But when I sent her over a dozen messages, she ignored them all without a second thought. This was the difference between love and indifference, and I was finally starting to understand it. “Summer, I sent you a mess—” Before I could finish, the sound of a knock on the door interrupted me. It was Chase. The next second, he entered the apartment after punching in the code, as if it were his own home. Judging by how natural and practiced he looked, it was clear this wasn’t his first time here. This was my home. Mine and Summer’s. Yet she had given him the door code behind my back. I turned to look at her, but she avoided my gaze, shifting uncomfortably. Chase walked over to her, casually standing by her side, and said with a grin, “Summer, you left in such a rush earlier that I just realized I still had the engagement ring on me!” “Good thing I noticed and came over to return it right away!” As he spoke, he shot me a smug, taunting look, deliberately holding up the ring for me to see, his intention to provoke clear as day. It was only then that I noticed the matching couples’ rings on their hands. I lowered my gaze, my heart growing colder by the second. Wasn’t he just “helping” her out of an awkward situation? Then why were they wearing matching rings? Neither Summer nor I spoke, and the room was thick with tension. Chase took advantage of the silence, pretending to lighten the mood while slyly fanning the flames. “Are you two fighting? Ryan, don’t misunderstand. I only wore the engagement ring because I had no choice.” “Back at the beach, I only kissed her because you didn’t show up on time. We thought you weren’t coming.” “The moment was perfect, the crowd was cheering, and I didn’t want Summer to feel awkward. That’s all.” “But really, nothing happened between us. We’re completely innocent. Don’t let me come between you two!” Chase then turned to me with a fake smile. “I’ll take the ring off and return it to you right away.” He started fiddling with the ring, but it was obvious he wasn’t trying very hard. In fact, he made a big show of pretending it was stuck, rubbing his finger until it turned red. Then he looked at Summer with mock helplessness. “Summer, it’s stuck! What should I do?” Playing along, he forced a pitiful expression, as if he had tried his best. Summer, of course, fell for it. She grabbed his hand, her voice soft and full of concern. “If it’s stuck, don’t force it. It’s just a ring—don’t hurt yourself over it.” Chase continued his act, still “struggling” to remove the ring as he glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “But this is the engagement ring you bought for Ryan…” Summer, clearly irritated, glanced at me with annoyance, as if still upset about our argument. “Then I’ll just buy him another one. It’s not a big deal. He’s not that petty.” Hearing her dismiss me so easily, Chase’s smugness grew, and he shot me a triumphant look. I, however, felt nothing but cold detachment. This was how it always was. Whenever it came down to choosing between me and Chase, she always chose Chase. This wasn’t about a ring. It was about everything that had been broken between us. Rings can be replaced. But a broken relationship? That can’t be fixed. I smiled faintly, walked over, and placed their hands together. “There’s no need to take it off. You two are perfect for each other. I wish you both the best.”

With that, I grabbed my suitcase and headed for the door. Chase, clearly delighted, decided to play the “good guy” and pretended to stop me. “Ryan, I know you’re still upset about what happened at the beach, but it really wasn’t what you think. I was only trying to help Summer out of an awkward situation.” “Sure, we shared some great memories in the past—bungee jumping, watching the northern lights—but that’s ancient history. Summer and I are just good friends now. Don’t let it get to you…” He was pretending to console me, but every word was dripping with smugness. Before he could finish, I interrupted with a cold smile. “Oh, I get it. It’s lip friendship, right? Friendship sealed with a kiss.” My sarcasm made Chase’s face twitch, and Summer immediately snapped. “That’s enough, Ryan! Chase already explained everything to you. What more do you want?” “And seriously, it was just a kiss! I’ve already agreed to marry you—my whole life will be yours after we’re married! Do you really need to make a big deal out of one kiss?” I couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous she sounded, defending Chase like that. She didn’t understand. It wasn’t about the kiss. It was about the way she always treated Chase so differently—how she always put him first. When I didn’t respond, Chase’s eyes began to glisten as he played his usual victim card. “I’m sorry, Summer. It’s my fault you and Ryan are having this fight.” “I should probably just leave so I don’t upset him anymore…” As he said this, he slowly made his way toward the door, deliberately brushing past me. I frowned, wondering what he was up to now. The next second, he stumbled and fell to the ground with a dramatic cry of pain, clutching his leg. He looked up at me with teary, accusing eyes, as if I’d somehow tripped him. Summer immediately pushed me aside and rushed to his side, wrapping her arms around him protectively. “Ryan! How could you? Tripping Chase over something so petty? I’m so disappointed in you!” Chase, of course, was quick to add fuel to the fire. “Don’t blame Ryan, Summer. It’s my fault—I wasn’t standing properly…” Her shove had sent me sprawling to the ground, scraping my arm in the process. Blood was trickling down, but Summer didn’t even glance my way. I got up slowly, looking at her with cold detachment. “Summer, I’m the one who’s disappointed.” For three years, she had always chosen Chase over me. She had always made excuses for him, always found a way to justify his presence in our lives while treating me as an afterthought. Three years of disappointment and resentment had built up inside me. I was tired. Exhausted. Without another word, I turned and headed for the door. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of panic in Summer’s eyes, but it quickly disappeared, replaced by icy indifference. “Ryan, don’t think pulling this stunt will get my attention. Playing hard to get doesn’t work on me!” “If you leave now, don’t bother coming back!” I stopped for a moment, and for a brief second, she looked confident, like she thought her words had worked. Her lips curled into a faint, triumphant smile. “If you’ve come to your senses, then hurry up and—” But before she could finish, her smile froze. I wasn’t stopping for her. I was just grabbing my suitcase. I walked right past her and left without looking back. Seeing my resolve, Summer finally realized I wasn’t bluffing. “Ryan! If you dare walk out that door, I’ll cut off your mom’s medication!” Her words stopped me in my tracks. She was threatening me with my mother’s life? My mother had been gravely ill for years, relying on expensive medication to stay alive. Summer, being the successful career woman she was, had always paid for it. I had stepped back from my career to take care of her, managing our home and daily expenses instead. And now, she was using that against me? I turned back, my voice cold and final. “Do whatever you want. I’ll take care of my mom myself.” Without waiting for her response, I walked out the door. Once outside, I called my boss and requested a transfer to the company’s branch in Calridge City. My boss was thrilled. “Ryan, I’m so glad you’ve finally made this decision! Do you know how disappointed I was when you turned down the transfer last time?” “You’re one of the most talented people I know. I’ve always believed in you.” I had given up so much for Summer—promotions, career growth, even opportunities to relocate. My boss had offered me countless chances, but I’d turned them all down, thinking I was doing the right thing for my relationship. But now that we were done, it was time to focus on myself again. I asked my boss to help look after my mom while I was away, and he agreed without hesitation. After hanging up, I booked the next train out of this miserable city. As my cab pulled up to the station, my phone started buzzing non-stop. Summer had finally realized I wasn’t joking. She bombarded me with calls and messages: “Ryan! I heard you’re leaving. Is it true?” “Where are you? I’ll come find you right now!” “Why won’t you answer me? Please, just hear me out!” “It’s all a misunderstanding. Let me explain—things aren’t what you think!” I was irritated and blocked her number without hesitation. Then I powered off my phone. Now she regretted it? Too late. Whatever excuses she had, they didn’t matter anymore. Her lack of boundaries with Chase was undeniable, and I had no interest in hearing her try to justify it. Looking back, I couldn’t believe how pathetic I’d been all these years. I’d spent so much energy walking on eggshells, constantly trying to please her. Every time she abandoned me, I’d make excuses for her. Every time she wore matching outfits with Chase instead of me, I told myself it was just a coincidence. Every time she broke up with me, I’d wonder if I’d done something wrong. I knew deep down that she didn’t love me as much as I loved her. But I hadn’t wanted to admit it. The incident at the beach had been the wake-up call I needed. It was time to let go of this toxic relationship and move on. By the time I reached the train station, my train had just arrived. It felt like fate, everything falling into place. I passed through security, checked my ticket, and boarded the train. Just as I found my seat and was about to relax, someone appeared out of nowhere. It was Summer. Her eyes were red and swollen as she ran onto the platform, screaming at the top of her lungs. “Ryan! You promised you’d never leave me, no matter what! So why are you leaving me now?”

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Title: I Drank Until I Had Stomach Bleeding, My Wife Called Me Weak, So I Quit My Job—and Her Company Collapsed ## While I bent over backward at a business dinner, chugging glass after glass of alcohol to secure a deal, my wife, Lila Vaughn, was busy cozying up to Ethan Blake, feeding him freshly baked desserts and laughing at his jokes. When I struggled to keep up with the client’s unreasonable demands, she watched coldly from the sidelines, her arm linked with Ethan’s, introducing him to influential people in the room. To keep the deal afloat, I forced down bottle after bottle, until I collapsed from stomach bleeding. But instead of showing concern, she clung to Ethan and sneered in front of everyone, “What a pathetic excuse for a man—can’t even handle a few drinks.” What she didn’t know was that the papers I’d handed her earlier, which she signed without even glancing at, weren’t business contracts. They were divorce papers. After the business dinner wrapped up, I stumbled out of the venue, clutching my stomach in pain. Lila hadn’t come out yet, so I called for a rideshare. “What the hell are you doing? Just leaving without waiting for me and Ethan?” I turned around to see Lila storming toward me, her arm still wrapped around Ethan’s. “Are you just going to stand there? Go get the car from the parking lot and pick us up!” she ordered, her tone sharp and commanding. I started to explain, “I’ve been drinking. You should wait—” Before I could finish, Ethan cut me off, smirking. “Hey now, Sam, you’re not upset with me, are you?” Lila shot me a glare. “You’re such a child. Grow up.” Too exhausted to argue, I stayed quiet as the driver I’d called pulled up in my car. Lila and Ethan didn’t hesitate to climb into the backseat, leaving me to sit in the front passenger seat. As the car started moving, my foot brushed against something under the seat. I reached down and froze. It was a used condom wrapper. Ethan noticed my reaction and chuckled suggestively. “Oops, forgot to clean up after the action earlier. My bad.” The driver muttered under his breath, “Kids these days, huh?” Lila didn’t seem the least bit bothered. “Sam, clean it up, will you?” she said offhandedly. I didn’t respond. My face was pale from the stomach pain, and I didn’t have the strength to deal with her. She seemed to forget—or maybe didn’t care—that just moments ago, she’d signed the papers ending our five-year marriage. When I didn’t move, Lila’s expression shifted. She looked at me, almost confused, as though surprised I hadn’t jumped to obey her as I always had. For five years, no matter how unreasonable her demands, I’d never said no. She stared at me for a moment before letting out an exasperated sigh. “Really? You’re throwing a tantrum over something so small? Be a man, Sam.” She leaned back and opened the storage compartment in the backseat. It was neatly packed with medicine—supplies I’d prepared for her over the years because her busy work schedule often left her neglecting her health. She grabbed a box of pills and tossed it toward me. “Here, take this. It’s Ethan’s medication, but I guess it’ll do for you. Stop acting like you’re dying.” I realized she hadn’t ignored my discomfort earlier—she’d seen it. She just thought I was exaggerating to get her attention. I shook my head and refused the pills. She clicked her tongue in annoyance. “Suit yourself. Stop the car!” The driver pulled over. Lila leaned into Ethan with a satisfied smirk, her eyes glancing sideways at me. “Ethan didn’t get enough to eat earlier. You can find your own way home.” “Oh, Lila, you’re the best,” Ethan said, grinning as he shot me a smug look. Lila patted his head affectionately and added, “At least you’re fun to be around, unlike some people.” I didn’t waste my breath arguing. In the past, I would’ve insisted on staying with her, worried that no one else would take care of her the way I did. But this time, I simply nodded. “Alright. Take care.” Then I stepped out of the car and shut the door behind me. Lila sat upright, startled, as if she hadn’t expected my reaction. She opened her mouth to say something, but the door closed before she could speak. I stood by the curb and booked a nearby hotel on my phone. If they wanted to be together, there was no point in me going home tonight.

The next morning, I went to HR and submitted my resignation. “You’re resigning? Did you clear it with your manager?” the HR rep asked. I nodded. When Lila had hired me into her company, she’d casually given me a position with no clear responsibilities. For years, I’d essentially been her personal assistant, handling everything from major deals to minor errands. Technically, I wasn’t even part of a formal department. After completing the paperwork, I returned to my office—only to find Lila sitting in my chair. Her tone was sharp. “Is this how you approach work? Showing up late?” I glanced at the clock. I was three minutes late. “Sorry,” I said simply. “Don’t let it happen again. Just because you’re in a special position doesn’t mean you get special treatment,” she snapped. I chuckled bitterly. Special position? In five years of marriage, no one at the company even knew we were married. Lila had insisted on keeping our relationship a secret, claiming it would protect me from being mocked as a “kept man.” “Understood, Ms. Vaughn. Do you have any instructions for me?” I asked, keeping my tone professional. Her face darkened. “You’re so boring.” I stayed silent, waiting for her to continue. She studied me with a mix of frustration and confusion. “Are you even a man?” I frowned, unsure of what she meant. Her voice grew more agitated. “I spent all night with another man, and you don’t even care? Don’t you have anything to say?” Her tone was petulant, almost as if she wanted me to argue with her. For a moment, I felt a flicker of hope. I wanted to ask her what she meant—if there was something more behind her words. But before I could speak, Ethan’s voice came from the doorway. “Lila, you were too rough last night. These marks on my neck are going to be a problem for today’s photoshoot,” he said with a playful whine. He walked in with the casual familiarity of someone who belonged there, his tone dripping with intimacy. Whatever I had been hoping for vanished. I forced a smile and laughed at myself. How pathetic. Even now, I’m still looking for something that isn’t there. For Lila, I had never been anything more than an inconvenience—someone who took away the life she thought she deserved. Six years ago, my parents died in a car accident, leaving me and my ailing grandfather alone. Desperate to see me settled before his passing, my grandfather pressured Lila’s family into arranging our marriage, using an old debt they owed him as leverage. Lila agreed, but not without conditions. She handed me a contract: “Five years. This marriage ends after five years.” I’d thought that five years would be enough time to win her heart. But one night, after she came home drunk, she broke down in my arms, sobbing. “If it weren’t for you, I’d be married to him by now,” she cried. That was the moment I finally understood. She hated me—not because of who I was, but because I was the reason she couldn’t be with the man she truly loved. I should’ve let go then. Now, it was time to move on. She had found her happiness. It was time for me to find mine.

“You bit too hard.” Ethan Blake’s voice snapped me back to reality. He stood just inches away, his tone anything but friendly as he adjusted the open collar of his shirt, revealing faint bruises and red marks scattered across his skin. The deep purples and blues made it clear that whoever left those marks hadn’t held back. I forced myself to look away, ignoring the bitter sting in my chest. Lila Vaughn glanced at me briefly, then strode over to Ethan. Her fingers lightly brushed the marks on his skin. “Does it hurt?” she asked softly. Ethan chuckled. “Maybe be gentler next time?” She shot him a teasing look, and I quietly turned to leave. “Stop,” Lila called out, halting me in my tracks. “Cover up those marks for him.” “Sure,” I said, reaching for my phone to call in a makeup artist. But Ethan raised a hand to stop me. “No, that won’t work. I don’t trust anyone else. If word gets out, it could damage my reputation.” Lila smirked, pointing to me. “Then you do it. And don’t leave a trace.” … “Alright.” I got to work, carefully concealing the marks. By the time I finished, the photoshoot was about to begin. Since I wasn’t needed to supervise the shoot, I pulled out my phone and texted my longtime friend, Jack Harper. I let him know I was finally quitting and asked him to help me make some connections. Once I got his reply, I set my phone down and looked up just in time to notice a piece of overhead equipment swaying dangerously above Ethan’s head. “Watch out!” I shouted as I dashed forward, shoving him out of the way just as the rig came crashing down. A chorus of gasps erupted around me. Warm blood trickled down my arm, blurring my vision. The chaos around me felt distant and muted. A sharp, searing pain in my arm jolted me back to reality. I glanced down to see my right hand limp at my side, blood gushing from an open wound. I tried to move it, but nothing happened. I turned to check on Ethan. He was sitting on the ground, frozen in shock, his face pale with fear. But aside from a few minor scrapes, he seemed fine. The scene was quickly brought under control, and Lila arrived moments later. The first thing she did was call for her private doctor, her voice frantic. “Quickly, Ethan can’t afford to be hurt!” Her eyes were glued to him as she rushed past me without so much as a glance, completely focused on him. Ethan started complaining about how shaken he was, and Lila seemed genuinely terrified for him. “Are you hurt anywhere? That equipment could’ve killed you!” The air around us grew heavy with silence. A few people cast sympathetic looks in my direction but said nothing. The private doctor finally noticed me and gasped sharply. “This is bad. Why didn’t you say something earlier? You’re bleeding heavily!” Lila finally turned her head, her gaze following the doctor’s to the wound on my arm. Her eyes widened, and for a brief moment, her voice wavered. “Are you mute or something? Why didn’t you say you were hurt?” Her fingers trembled slightly as she subconsciously clenched her fists. She stepped closer, staring at the blood-soaked wound like she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. Then, as if snapping out of a daze, she grabbed my hand, ignoring the blood smeared across it. “Sam Carter, where’s your ring?” I glanced down at my left hand. The ring finger was bare, save for the faint indentation of where a wedding band used to sit. I couldn’t understand her anger. It was just a ring—a ring she had never cared for, never worn herself. Why did it matter so much to her now? Gently, I pulled my hand away. “Can you help me get this wound treated?” I asked the doctor. “Sam Carter!” Lila’s voice rose sharply as she frowned at me, her tone filled with frustration. I sighed quietly, ready to explain that I’d lost the ring a few days ago while washing my hands and it had slipped down the drain. Before I could speak, though, Ethan’s voice cut in. “Lila, I don’t feel so good…” She immediately pushed past me, rushing to his side with a look of concern. “What’s wrong? I’ll take you to the hospital.” The doctor quickly bandaged my wound, and I got into the car with them. The entire ride, Lila fussed over Ethan, cradling him protectively. He rested his head against her neck, smirking at me with a look of triumph. Then, as if it were an afterthought, he let out a dramatic sigh. “Ouch, it really hurts.” His tone was loaded with implication. “Honestly, Sam, you’re usually so careful. How could something like this happen on your watch?” Lila’s lips pressed into a thin line as her eyes flicked to the scrape on Ethan’s hand. The moment she saw it, her expression darkened. “Sam Carter, are you being petty?!” she snapped, her voice filled with fury. “If something had happened to Ethan today, I’d make sure you paid for it tenfold!” She glared at me, her tone colder than ever. “Apologize to Ethan. Right now. Or don’t bother coming back tomorrow.”

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