As my husband lay on his deathbed, he grasped my hand and declared his last will. “Half for our son, half for Bella.” But my name is Claire Evans. Our son nodded, “Aunt Bella has been by your side for half a lifetime. She deserves it.” My husband’s final words were directed at me. “Don’t worry, you’re not left out. You can be buried with me when your time comes.” So, he had a secret lover all these years. The shock caused me to have a stroke, and I died right there by his hospital bed. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day he asked me to quit my job and become a full-time housewife, claiming our son was too young. 0 I looked around the shabby hospital, feeling disoriented. Jack came rushing in on his old bicycle. “What happened? Kevin’s such a well-behaved kid. How could his teacher page me saying he blinded a classmate?” He frowned at me disapprovingly. “I’ve been telling you, there’s too much going on at home, and the kid’s still young. As a mother, you should quit your job and take care of the family properly. If you had agreed earlier, this wouldn’t have happened.” After dealing with the injured child and paying a hefty compensation, Jack spoke to me again. I finally realized that I had somehow come back to life, reliving the day when he asked me to quit my job and become a full-time housewife to support his career. I couldn’t be blamed for my slow reaction. After all, in my previous life, I had died as an elderly woman. To care for our young son and aging in-laws, I had no choice but to resign from the theater company at the peak of my career. The soon-to-retire director was an old acquaintance of my father’s, and I had learned acting from him since childhood. He tried to persuade me to stay several times, saying that women could hold up half the sky. With my vocal skills and abilities, I had a real shot at taking over his position. Jack, as one of the few university graduates specializing in theater at that time, had been eyeing that position for a long time. If I stepped down, the director’s position would undoubtedly be his. “I shouldn’t interfere with your family matters, but Claire, I hope you keep your fate in your own hands. If one day he turns out to be unfaithful like those characters in our plays, at least you’ll have something to fall back on.” Back then, I was overwhelmed by family responsibilities and swayed by Jack’s sweet words. I firmly believed our marriage was built on love, unlike those arranged marriages. After I resigned, Jack smoothly took over as the theater company director. From then on, he became even busier. Busy writing plays, rehearsing, socializing, and touring across the country. Each time he left, it was for at least a couple of weeks, sometimes even months. I had to handle all the household chores alone. My in-laws were getting old. My mother-in-law would have chest pains whenever she got upset. I took care of them carefully until they passed away peacefully at 83. Our son was different from other children from a young age. He couldn’t speak until he was three. Later, there was a trendy term for it – autism. He liked his classmate’s tiger eraser and tried to grab it, stabbing the classmate’s eye with a pencil. I researched foreign materials, exercised with him every day, and repeated words thousands of times to teach him. Gradually, he started to improve. Fortunately, Jack’s career was smooth sailing, even soaring. He looked vibrant every day, making me seem even more worn out. People on the street sometimes mistook me for his mother. Finally, when he was about to retire, I thought he would fulfill the promise he made when he asked me to quit my job. “I’ll make sure you have a good life. When I have time, I’ll take you traveling everywhere.” Unexpectedly, just as he received his retirement notice, he became agitated and had a heart attack. The doctor issued a critical condition notice. He struggled to sit up, called for medical staff as witnesses, and wanted to make a will. “I’ll divide my assets into two parts, one for our son, and one for Bella Davis.” But my name is Claire Evans. While I was still in shock, our son, whom I had raised to be no different from others, nodded. “Aunt Bella has been by your side for a lifetime. She deserves this.” Jack raised his hand towards me. “I’m not neglecting you either. When your time comes, you can be buried with me.” Only then did I realize that he and Bella Davis, the lead actress in our theater company, had been having an affair for years! I felt dizzy as all the blood rushed to my head. I died right there by his hospital bed. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day our son got into trouble and was expelled from school, and Jack asked me to quit my job to take care of the family. I lowered my eyes and smirked, “Kevin isn’t just my child. Why should I be the one to quit my job?” 0

For the first time since we met, Jack was stunned by my sharp retort. He stood there, speechless. After a while, he finally found his voice. “I’m the man, the pillar of this family. Naturally, I should take on the responsibility of providing for the family. Why don’t you just stay at home and be a housewife? Isn’t that good?” He softened his voice and promised, “Claire, I promise you, I will definitely…” I cut him off, not wanting to hear that line that had deceived me for half a lifetime. “I will definitely treat you well too. When I have free time, I’ll take you traveling all over the country to enjoy life. Jack, why don’t you quit your job instead? After all, besides our son needing care, your parents need even more attention.” Jack opened his mouth, then closed it again. I initially wanted to propose divorce directly, but in this era, complete freedom of divorce wasn’t possible yet. Even if my parents were relatively open-minded, they probably couldn’t accept my sudden divorce. At the very least, I needed to find evidence of his affair to have public opinion on my side. Finally, Jack and I reached an agreement. We would both compete for the position of theater company director, and whoever lost would resign to take care of the family. Jack looked at me arrogantly. “It’s not like the old days when masters trained apprentices anymore. Being good at singing alone isn’t enough to convince people. The key is having management skills! Let me be clear, you’re close to Director Chen, and your parents have connections with big shots in the theater world. If I find out there’s any unfairness, don’t blame me for not considering our marital bond!” Jack’s tone was harsh and cold, already treating me like an enemy. In my previous life, how could I have thought he was cold on the outside but warm-hearted, responsible for the family? Our son seemed oblivious to our argument, focused on fiddling with the eraser he had snatched. I now know this is a stereotypical behavior of autistic children, but Jack didn’t. He snatched the eraser away and ground it under his foot. “Are you stupid? It’s bad enough that you can’t talk, but you keep causing trouble! Do you know how much trouble you’ve caused? I had to pay a whole year’s salary in compensation!” He then slapped our son’s head several times, still not satisfied. In the past, I would have stopped him. I would have hugged our son, comforting him, saying I’d take responsibility for his mistakes, and then make up the money from my own salary. That’s what I did in my previous life. To get treatment for Kevin in the south, I even borrowed money from my parents. But now, I just stood by coldly, watching. I even wanted to applaud and say, “Well done.” Seeing my lack of reaction, Jack stopped. “Claire Evans, I knew you were cold-hearted!” he said before riding away on his bike. I knew he was betting on me softening towards our son, but when I thought about how in my previous life, the son I had poured my heart and soul into had helped these two despicable people deceive me for half a lifetime, and even said the mistress had it tough, I couldn’t help but feel furious. Thinking of this, I turned and left as well. As I turned the corner, I caught a glimpse of Jack stopping his bike and riding back. See? A child doesn’t die without his mother. Whoever softens first is the one who ends up sacrificing more. This life, I was determined to be the hard-hearted one. But I wasn’t testing him. I really had something to deal with. I needed to find Bella Davis from my previous life, the “Aunt Bella” who Kevin said had been by Jack’s side for half a lifetime and deserved half of his assets. Actually, Bella and I were quite familiar with each other. We both started as lead actresses. But after I gave birth to Kevin, my mother-in-law complained of heart palpitations and couldn’t help with my postpartum care. I had to cook, do laundry, and take care of the baby just two days after giving birth, which led to a herniated disc. I couldn’t dance anymore and could only play supporting roles. She then considered herself the star of the theater company. I never thought about truly competing with Jack for the director position. After all, why make things difficult for myself when there was an easier path? Bella was that easier path. 0

Only now did I understand why Bella, after transferring from the countryside to the city, constantly targeted me. It turns out she was hoping this “first wife” would step down soon, but I had stubbornly refused to fulfill her wish. I had thought Jack and I were in harmony, believing we had fallen in love at first sight. Our first meeting was when he arrived with his luggage to report for duty. I was on stage rehearsing “Romance of the West Chamber,” playing the role of Cui Yingying. The actor playing Zhang Sheng had sprained his ankle, and I was in a dilemma when Jack was pushed onto the stage. He watched me wave my sleeves and twist my waist. Our eyes met and lingered. My heart skipped a beat, and I thought he felt the same. But in my previous life, it wasn’t until I closed my eyes in resentment that I realized the look in his eyes at that time was filled with a strange emotion, as if he was seeing someone else through me. And Bella’s specialty was also “Romance of the West Chamber.” Before returning to the theater company, I took a detour to the department store. In the alley behind the store, a few people were loitering with their hands in their pockets, looking around. Seeing me approach, they came closer and whispered mysteriously, “Want a tape?” When I walked out, I had a cassette voice recorder in my hand. When I got back to the theater company, Bella was on stage rehearsing “Romance of the West Chamber.” Seeing me enter, she twirled, waving her sleeves, and gave me a cold look. In my previous life, I thought she was just jealous of my superior singing skills and that’s why she always gave me a hard time. But now I realize, she resented me for taking her Zhang Sheng, forcing them to become secret lovers. I placed the voice recorder in a corner of the props room. As I came out, I saw Bella clinging to Jack. “Brother Jack, help me rehearse, won’t you~” Without waiting for his response, she put a blue robe on Jack. The two of them, oblivious to others, became intimately entangled on stage under the guise of rehearsing. After finishing a scene, Jack said he needed to return some props himself, and the two walked hand in hand towards the props room. In my previous life, after I had resigned, I once came to bring Jack lunch and saw the two of them walking out of the props room with flushed faces. Jack’s shirt buttons were misaligned. He said they were rehearsing a new play, and I believed him. This time, when they walked out with flushed faces again, I cursed my past naivety while holding my nose and going in to retrieve the voice recorder. Finding a quiet corner, I pressed play. “Bella, these past few days while you were out of town performing, I’ve been going crazy missing you…” After a series of rustling sounds accompanied by moans, Bella spoke: “Thanks to you, my son can come to the city for school. Jack, I’m yours for life!” Bella’s husband was a martial arts actor in the rural theater troupe. He fell from a high platform last year and died on the spot. The theater company, to take care of her, made an exception and transferred her to the city last year. But her child’s residence permit was difficult to arrange. Jack had taken two bottles of good liquor from home a while ago; it turns out he was using them to grease some palms. “Don’t rush. Claire’s family has deep roots, I still need her family’s support. Once I become the director… This arrangement is good for now, we don’t need that piece of paper. My heart is yours, and naturally, so am I.” My heart turned cold. This was a side of Jack I had never seen before. Throughout our years of marriage, even during our newlywed phase, he always maintained a cool and indifferent demeanor. I used to think this was just the unique temperament of a cultured gentleman, different from others. However, I gradually discovered that he could also show a tender, passionate side. I saved the tape and went home. My mother-in-law was listening to the radio. She lifted her eyelids to look at me and said irritably: “What kind of woman are you? Not only do you parade yourself in public, but you also neglect your child! If this were the old days…” I interrupted her: “I would have been divorced already, right? Well, let me tell you, I’m not afraid. And this isn’t the old days anymore. If you want to separate, you need a divorce certificate!” Jack’s mother clutched her chest, her face contorted in pain: “This is outrageous! You’re rebelling! I must tell Jack about this. You’re going to be the death of me!” When Jack came home and saw the cold stove and empty kitchen, he frowned. His mother immediately rushed to him, tearfully recounting my “unfilial” behavior. In my previous life, she had used these two words to manipulate me for a lifetime. I packed my things and walked out with my bag. “There’s an end-of-year performance before next month’s competition. I’m moving to stay at the theater company. Besides, we’re competitors now, it’s not appropriate for us to live together.” I put a hundred dollars on the table. “This is my duty as a mother to Kevin. This money should cover all his expenses for a month.” My monthly salary was 153 , g i v i n g 153,giving100 was already quite generous. Jack angrily smashed his teacup, chipping a piece of white porcelain. “If you have the guts, don’t come back once you leave!” I remained indifferent, glancing at Kevin sitting nearby before leaving without looking back. At the theater company, I rehearsed day and night. This performance was national, and even television stations were coming to film. If I could win first prize, it would help me gain respect when I became the director. But before the day of the performance arrived, the atmosphere in the theater company started to feel off. Wherever I went, there were whispers and pointing behind my back. I deliberately squatted in a corner of the bathroom to eavesdrop on others’ hushed conversations. “Is the news true? Is Claire really having an affair with Director Chen?” “It must be true. The note even detailed which day she entered the director’s office and how long she stayed. If there wasn’t something fishy going on, why would Director Chen support Claire so much? She can’t even play lead roles anymore!” So, this was why Jack dared to speak so harshly to me that day. He had a backup plan. Being the subject of scandalous rumors is devastating for a woman in any era. I couldn’t just passively take the hits. I needed to do something to take control of the situation. 0

As the two women were walking out, I stood up directly from the toilet stall and chased after them. “Is what you’re saying true? Repeat what you just said.” I grabbed the woman who had mentioned the incriminating note. Seeing it was me, her eyes flickered, but she tried to maintain her composure. “Of course, I just heard about it. How shameless of you to make such a fuss about it. Are you trying to make sure everyone in the theater knows? What difference does it make if I repeat it? You’re married to such a good husband like Jack and still not satisfied. You actually had an affair with Director Chen just to win the director position!” This woman was Zoe Parker, who played the role of the matchmaker. She often hung out with Bella. I immediately collapsed to the ground, crying and clinging tightly to her legs. “I had no idea I had been drugged and taken advantage of. I know nothing about what you’re saying. You must help me testify and bring the culprit to justice!” By this time, quite a crowd had gathered to watch the commotion. I looked around with a distraught expression. “Please, can someone help me call the police? I’m a married woman. I never thought I’d be… This is driving me to my death. I can’t go on living!” I used my vocal training to project my voice, startling a flock of sparrows from a nearby tree. Seeing someone rush towards the reception desk in response, Zoe visibly panicked. She started trying to pry my hands off, attempting to free her leg. “I just heard it from someone else. I didn’t see anything myself. How can I testify for you?” I held on even tighter: “Then who did you hear it from? They must know.” Zoe hurriedly blurted out Bella’s name. When the police arrived, they called both Bella and Director Chen over. They also found several notes scattered around the theater, describing my alleged affair with Director Chen. This immediately caused an uproar, even attracting the attention of the provincial theater company’s leadership. I winked at Director Chen. Having watched me grow up, he knew I had my limits. He just gave me a warning glare, indicating we’d settle this later. Under immense pressure, Bella had to admit that she had fabricated the rumors about me and hadn’t actually seen anything. The police sternly told her: “Your behavior has seriously disrupted social order and damaged Claire’s reputation.” Bella looked tearfully towards Jack, who was standing at the edge of the crowd, biting her lip in silence. Jack pushed through the crowd and stepped forward. “Claire is my wife. Since this is all a misunderstanding, and we’re all colleagues here, let’s just treat it as a joke. On her behalf, I won’t pursue this matter any further.” I let out a cold laugh: “Since when do I need you to speak for me? I have my own voice.” “Officer, I want to pursue legal action against those who spread these rumors and restore my reputation!”

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I Had a Girlfriend in College I had a girlfriend in college. She was gentle and lovely, with clear eyes. I was head over heels for her, wanting to give her the world. One day, I received a friend request. It dawned on me that I might have been cheated on. I confronted my girlfriend, but she denied it vehemently, tears in her eyes. My heart softened, and I believed her, even buying her a new bag to make up. Until my friends told me the truth: she had long been married to a man in his fifties back in her hometown. They were working together to deceive me and swindle my money, causing my company to face frequent troubles. I couldn’t believe it. As my vision blurred, I suddenly found myself in her husband’s body when I opened my eyes again. Still reeling from the shock of being the other man, the harsh sunlight outside the window snapped me back to reality. The soft sensation beneath me startled me. I looked down to find myself sitting on a bed, surrounded by unfamiliar surroundings. “Where am I?” The pain of being cheated on was momentarily forgotten, replaced by confusion. I unconsciously reached up to scratch my neck, surprised by the rough texture. Shocked, I looked down at my hands. They were rough, dark, and calloused. My confusion deepened. “Who am I?” I rushed to a mirror, staring at the unfamiliar “me” reflected back. The man in the mirror was overweight, with a fleshy face and dark skin, looking to be in his fifties. I stared at him, feeling a sense of familiarity. Racking my brain, it suddenly hit me where I’d seen him before. This was Emma’s husband back in her hometown! I had seen him in my friend’s phone. “Holy crap, did I… swap bodies with him?” The situation had gone beyond my comprehension. “Where is he then? Is he in my body?” Just then, a ringtone interrupted my thoughts. I pulled out a phone from my pocket, seeing “Mom” on the caller ID. I answered. Before I could speak, an elderly voice came through, “Richard, Emma’s just playing around with that boy. She’s still yours. Once she’s swindled all his money, the company will be yours too. You can provoke him however you want, it’s fine. We’re just enduring for now, we won’t lose out in the end.” The barrage of words left me dizzy. Hearing my silence, the voice continued, “Richard? Richard? I know you’re upset about Emma seeing another man, but listen to your mother. If we endure now, you can do whatever you want with Emma when she comes back for summer break. I heard that boy’s quite generous with her, let Emma milk him for all he’s worth and bring back some money for you to buy cigarettes.” Only then did I fully grasp the situation. So, not only had I swapped bodies with the older man, but I had also traveled back to the moment he sent me a friend request. “So the company’s troubles were their doing too. Damn it!” I slapped my thigh. “Heaven’s given me this chance. This time, I’ll protect my money and my company.” If I had swapped into his body, he might have swapped into mine. In that case, wouldn’t he empty my bank account?! I had a moment of panic, wishing I hadn’t set up fingerprint payments.

No, wait. What if he hadn’t? I clung to a shred of hope, silently praying that this greedy old man hadn’t swapped into my body. First, I needed to confirm who was in my body. With this realization, I quickly pulled out my phone, found my chat window, and with trembling hands, slowly typed, “Who are you?” “?” The reply came quickly, followed by, “Are you crazy?” It felt so familiar, like my style. Excited, I eagerly typed, “Who was our elementary school teacher?” “Mr. Thompson, of course.” The instant reply, coupled with the fact that I had never discussed this with Emma and had no elementary school classmates’ contacts in my phone, plus the familiar feeling, was conclusive! I was almost certain the person on the other end was me. “Emma is a fraud. Don’t be fooled by her sweet talk!!” I typed furiously, afraid that my younger self might soften and fall for Emma’s tricks again. “She’s already married.” “?” came the reply from the other end, “You’re the fraud. Don’t I know my own girlfriend?” My heart sank at this response. It was over; he must have already confronted Emma, and she had managed to talk her way out of it. I was disappointed in myself. How could I believe everything Emma said? I felt like flying over there to knock some sense into myself. I kept trying, typing frantically, but the other end stopped responding. Frustrated, calling myself an idiot, a sudden idea struck me. I hurriedly rummaged around and found Richard and Emma’s marriage certificate. I took about a hundred photos of the certificate from every possible angle, proving it was as real as gold. Confident, I sent the photos over with a trademark “haha”, thinking, “Now with this iron-clad evidence, you’ve got to believe me.” Before I could celebrate for long, a red exclamation mark appeared on the screen. I had been blocked. Blocked by myself. Okay, I guess I’ve really outdone myself this time, being both a hopeless romantic and a clown. Not giving up, I tried adding him from other accounts, but none were accepted. At this point, with my savings at stake, I didn’t hesitate. I quickly booked a flight, planning to confront Emma and knock some sense into my love-struck self. Fortunately, Richard had also set up fingerprint payments. I booked a first-class ticket. Hehe, it’s the old man’s money, so might as well go all out. After all the trouble he’s caused me, a little compensation isn’t too much to ask, right?

As the plane landed, I once again set foot on familiar ground. On the taxi ride to campus, memories of my time with Emma flooded my mind. I remembered the first time I saw her on campus. She was wearing a white dress that fluttered in the wind, standing in the sunlight, flashing me a sweet smile. I got her WeChat under the pretext of helping her move her luggage. I sent her good morning, good afternoon, and good night messages every day. I spent time and energy making her happy, time and money accompanying her shopping and paying for her. It took me over three months of pursuing her before I dared to confess. When I saw her hesitate, seemingly about to refuse, I quickly told her how much I liked her, swearing to treat her well. Only then did I manage to convince her to be my girlfriend. After we got together, I told her everything, even company secrets without any reservations. We spent what I thought was a sweet and blissful time together. At least, that’s how it seemed to me. Occasionally, she would avoid taking calls in front of me, but I never questioned it, giving her enough privacy. Sometimes when we talked about family topics, she would stammer and refuse to elaborate. I thought it was because of a troubled family background, and feeling sorry for her, I would quickly change the subject. I thought that as long as I gave her my whole heart, we would be together forever. I never expected she would give me such a big surprise. I was the one intruding on their marriage. This realization once again stabbed at my heart. The phone screen reflected Richard’s face. I stared at it, thinking how I, a 6’1″ extremely handsome guy, couldn’t compete with this fifty-year-old man. The thought made my heart ache even more. The driver’s voice snapped me out of my daze. I got out of the car, standing at the university gates, determination in my eyes. Emma, this time I won’t be fooled by you. At this time, my younger self should have just finished Calculus class and be on the way back to the dorm. Relying on my memory, I went to the path he would take and waited for a while before I saw myself. I approached and stopped him. I watched a look of confusion spread across my familiar face. “Can I help you?” Talking to my own face, hearing my own voice, was an indescribably strange feeling. “Jack, I’m the uncle who added you the other day,” I said, knowing I didn’t have much patience and getting straight to the point. Jack’s face flashed with impatience. “I trust my girlfriend. I made it clear last time, please don’t bother us anymore.” Come on, man. I’ve come all this way and you still believe Emma? I facepalmed once again at my past self’s stupidity. Seeing Jack’s firm attitude, I didn’t dare to proceed with my original plan.

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My best friend and I married into the same wealthy family, becoming sisters-in-law. Shortly after, we both became pregnant. Our in-laws announced a million-dollar reward for whoever gave birth to a son. On the day I delivered, my friend, who had just undergone a C-section, came to my bedside and switched my son with her daughter. Twenty years later, after her son had caused a major scandal, she proudly declared in front of everyone, pointing at my academically excellent daughter: “Actually, this is my biological child!” I smiled and replied, “They say children often resemble their uncles. If your son shaved his head, he’d look exactly like your brother!” “Indeed, he is your biological son…” At the hospital room door, I saw a woman in a patient gown, hunched over and carrying a thick bundle. I quickly closed my eyes, pretending to be asleep. She entered, just as I expected. Even while enduring the pain from her C-section, she had come to switch our babies for the million-dollar reward. After she left, I looked at my fair-skinned daughter with love. Caressing her face, I whispered, “That scrawny, premature boy can go to whoever wants him.” Two hours later, my husband and in-laws arrived. My room was quiet, with only my husband, the nurse, and me present. Olivia’s room, on the other hand, was bustling with our in-laws, sister-in-law, and a crowd of relatives. My husband looked uncomfortable and tried to comfort me, “It’s okay, Emma. Our little princess has us, and that’s enough.” I patted his hand and said, “The surgery has left me weak. Since Olivia has the energy, let her entertain the guests.” That night, after running around switching babies and greeting visitors, Olivia suffered severe bleeding and was rushed back to surgery.

A year ago, shortly after I married into the wealthy family, Olivia would cry in front of me every day. She accused me of forgetting our promise to “stay friends even in wealth and success.” Seeing her strange, heavy makeup and exaggerated expressions, I remembered how she had cut ties with all our old classmates after marrying a nouveau riche man five or six years ago. I could only laugh it off and deny her accusations. To my surprise, within two weeks, she had hooked up with my gambling-addicted brother-in-law. When our in-laws disapproved, she got pregnant and forced a shotgun wedding. Her baby was due just a month after mine. Our in-laws were thrilled to have two pregnant daughters-in-law and announced the million-dollar reward for a grandson. I didn’t care much, as I hadn’t married my husband for his family’s wealth. I would be happy with either a son or a daughter. Olivia, however, was obsessed. She consulted fortune tellers who all said she was carrying a girl. She spent a fortune on rituals to change her luck, but to no avail. All this stress led to her being hospitalized for a month to protect the pregnancy. As my due date approached, I noticed Olivia constantly staring at my belly. My maternal instincts kicked in, and I became wary. Sure enough, on the day my water broke, Olivia arrived at the hospital right after me. She insisted on having a C-section that day, claiming it was an auspicious date. After my daughter was born, I took the opportunity to switch her son with my daughter when no one was looking. So, the baby Olivia took was actually her own son.

On the babies’ one-month birthday celebration, the family mansion was decorated lavishly, with luxury cars lining the driveway and guests filling the halls. Olivia’s “little prince” wore a bright yellow traditional outfit, which only made his complexion look darker. My daughter wore a simple pink dress, prioritizing comfort. Our in-laws had arranged stacks of cash totaling a million dollars on a long table. Olivia’s family hovered around it, as if afraid someone might steal a bundle. I rolled my eyes. How petty, I thought. Everyone here is wealthy; no one cares about your measly sum. When my mother-in-law placed a palm-sized solid gold charm necklace around Olivia’s son’s neck, Olivia immediately removed it and insisted on putting it on my daughter. “Boys are tough; this charm would be better for Sophia,” she said, taking the hollow gold charm from my daughter’s neck. Everyone praised her for being so considerate. I played along, saying, “You’re so good to Sophia, someone might think she’s your own daughter!” Olivia hesitated for a moment, then looked at my daughter with affection. “Of course, we’re best friends and sisters-in-law now. I just adore Sophia.” I blocked her hand as she reached out to touch my daughter. “Olivia, your son is crying. You should check on him.”

When the children were two years old, they were playing in the courtyard. Hearing a commotion, Olivia and I rushed downstairs. Seeing my daughter’s face scratched and bleeding, I held her silently, my face grim. Olivia went berserk, slapping her son Tyler hard across the face multiple times. His face swelled up immediately, and he cried uncontrollably. Despite the beating, he reached out to Olivia, sobbing, “Mommy, hug me.” Olivia kicked him away, “You little bastard! How dare you hurt Sophia? I’ll cut off your hands!” Hearing this, my daughter started crying in fear. Olivia glanced at her and became even angrier. She grabbed Tyler’s head and shoved it into the swimming pool. “You worthless piece of shit! You deserve to be punished! If Sophia’s face scars, I’ll kill you!” She only let go when the boy’s little hands stopped flailing. Seeing him sink to the bottom of the pool, I quickly pulled him out. The child coughed and sputtered water after being rescued. Olivia held my daughter, comforting her softly. I snorted coldly. Was she trying to kill a two-year-old child for making a mistake? She thought this was my son, which is why she treated him this way. If my daughter had been in her care, she might have suffered an even worse fate. “Olivia, no matter what Tyler did wrong, he’s still your own son. You almost killed him,” I said. She didn’t even look up. “If he dies, it’s his bad luck. We can always have another one.” Her words proved true. She got pregnant again, this time with a boy.

Our in-laws were overjoyed, saying they’d give her a million dollars for every son she bore. “The more children, the more blessings,” they said. “Have ten if you want!” Because of this, she treated Tyler even worse. After all, she had already spent the first million dollars. She had used the money to pay off her brother’s gambling debts, but he had since accumulated more. Her mother frequently came asking for money, insisting that her brother was even dearer than her own son. Years ago, when she was dating rich men to buy her brother phones and computers, I had warned her. Being excessively devoted to her brother would only lead to loss. She accused me of trying to ruin her relationship with her brother and cut off contact with me. Now, she came crying to me about her family bleeding her dry to support her brother. I advised her, “He’s your brother. If you don’t take care of him, who will? I’ve heard debt collectors use brutal methods these days. If they come to your in-laws, they’ll be very unhappy.” Olivia’s monthly allowance was only a few thousand dollars, far from enough to cover her brother’s expenses. So she set her sights on having more children for the rewards.

When Sophia was eight and starting elementary school, she suddenly had to be hospitalized. The doctor said it was a severe allergic reaction. Olivia arrived at the hospital before me. When I got there, she was arguing with the doctor: “She’s allergic to mangoes! How can it be this severe? You incompetent doctors! Use the most expensive medicine!” “If she suffers any more, I’ll shut down this entire hospital!” A nurse tried to calm her down, “Ma’am, please don’t worry. We’ve already treated her. She’ll be fine soon.” Olivia shouted, “It’s easy for you to say! What if it was your daughter lying there?” The doctors and nurses fell silent, not wanting to argue further. I ran over, caught my breath, and patted the nurse’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, I’m the child’s mother. Thank you for your help. Please, go attend to your other patients.” The doctor who had been yelled at looked confused. “Then who is this lady?” I forced a smile, “She’s the child’s aunt.” The doctor and nurse looked at Olivia, then left with expressions that suggested they thought she was mentally unstable. As he was leaving, the doctor said, “Ma’am, our hospital has an excellent psychiatric department. If you’re often overly anxious or stressed, you might want to consider a consultation.”

After Sophia was discharged, she stayed home from school for a few days to recover. During this time, Olivia nearly turned the school upside down. She reported the principal and teachers to the education bureau, accusing them of allowing students to poison others at school. She even hired tabloid reporters to interview people at the school. Banners were hung all over the school grounds: “Unethical school endangers my daughter’s life!” “Corrupt principal allows poisoning and protects the culprit!” “Immoral teachers abuse students!” To fabricate evidence against the teachers, she beat Tyler until he was black and blue. She forced Tyler to tell reporters on camera that the teachers had beaten him. The incident, involving school food safety, caused a huge uproar. Tyler, covered in new and old bruises, was dragged by Olivia to kneel at the school gate every day. He looked completely dejected. Onlookers began to speak up: “The child looks so ill, why isn’t he in the hospital?” “These injuries are clearly fresh. How could the teachers have beaten him at home?” “Rich people are so dramatic. Instead of going to the police, they put on heavy makeup and block the school entrance in luxury cars.” More and more people accused Olivia of putting on an act. The situation only ended when I brought Sophia to the school gate. I had also called reporters to explain the whole story. Sophia was allergic to mangoes, and her classmates, unaware of this, had shared some mango candy with her. I admitted that we, as parents, should have been more vigilant and asked everyone to stop discussing the incident. I apologized for the trouble Olivia had caused the school. We also withdrew the lawsuit against the classmate and their parents, hoping everyone would let the children return to their studies in peace.

Our in-laws cared deeply about their reputation. After my husband told them about this incident, they showed no mercy to Olivia, despite her having given them four grandsons. During a family gathering, they made her kneel down and apologize for her behavior in front of everyone. Olivia was humiliated, and my husband was worried. “Will Olivia take out her anger on Sophia? After all, she did all this for our daughter,” he said. I assured him, “She won’t. Olivia loves Sophia too much to blame her.” She would be too busy worrying about Sophia to be angry with her. If anyone would face her wrath, it would be her own son. That night, we heard screaming and crying as she punished her child. Tyler cried the loudest, “Mom, I’m your son! Why do you always hit me because of my sister? I feel pain too!” “Shut up! Cry again and I’ll sew your mouth shut! You don’t deserve to say Sophia’s name!” Finally, our in-laws couldn’t bear it anymore and took Tyler away. They also canceled Olivia’s credit cards and forbade Daniel from giving her money. Olivia endured a couple of years of financial hardship. She harbored resentment and pestered Daniel constantly. When she gave birth to her fifth son, she was overjoyed, expecting another million-dollar reward. Our in-laws only gave her $200,000. “$200,000 is more than enough for having a child. From now on, you’ll have to pay for baby formula yourselves,” they said.

With less money per child, Olivia decided to focus on quantity. Over the next few years, she had three more children. The toll of multiple pregnancies and raising eight children left Olivia’s face wrinkled. She looked nearly ten years older than me. What little money she received went to support her family. Daniel had taken up with a woman in her twenties and rarely came home. Even if Olivia wanted to have more children, she couldn’t find anyone to help her. Everyone thought she would become depressed and bitter, sighing all day like a wronged woman. But surprisingly, she remained energetic and upbeat, even though she had raised her sons to be good-for-nothing. They were uneducated and spent their days either playing video games at home or causing trouble outside, living off the allowance from their grandparents. Some had even dropped out of school, and Olivia indulged them. People were confused by her attitude, but only I knew the truth. Sophia was now twenty years old and pursuing a graduate degree at a top university. Whether the family fortune went to the grandsons or the most accomplished grandchild, Olivia thought she would be the winner either way.

During the New Year’s Eve family gathering, Tyler burst in, panicked and out of breath. He had been drinking at a bar and took an intoxicated girl to a hotel. Now she had called the police, and he had rushed home. He knelt before his grandfather, begging the family patriarch to save his eldest grandson. “Grandpa, please save me! When I helped that girl out of the bar, she didn’t resist at all!” “Grandpa, don’t you have friends in the police department? This girl is falsely accusing me. Can’t you have her arrested instead?” His father, seeing his father-in-law’s face turning purple with rage, smashed his wine glass on Tyler’s head. Blood trickled down Tyler’s forehead as he crawled towards his mother, his 300-pound body barely moving. “Mom, save me! I’m your own son!” His brothers stood by with their arms crossed, watching the scene unfold as if their kneeling brother were an enemy rather than family. Olivia crouched down to wipe the blood from his face. “Tyler, you’ve caused such big trouble. Even I can’t help you now. With a criminal record… I hope it won’t affect your sister’s chances of becoming a civil servant.” Tyler looked at her in disbelief. “I might go to jail, and all you care about is Sophia?” Their grandfather exploded in anger. “Enough! Olivia, look at the son you’ve raised! Take him to turn himself in right now. As far as we’re concerned, we never saw him today!” “And you, we don’t want a daughter-in-law like you in our family anymore. When you get back, divorce Daniel and leave with nothing!” Olivia panicked. She grabbed Sophia, who was sitting next to her grandparents, and before anyone could react, she blurted out: “Dad, I’m not the one who should leave. Tyler is Michael and Emma’s son. Sophia is my real daughter!”

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After my daughter’s death, I accidentally discovered that Luke Harrison already had another family. The man who could barely bring himself to smile in front of our daughter was warm and affectionate toward another child—a boy. In fact, on the day my daughter was kidnapped, Luke was out shopping and playing with his son. The teacher’s calls went unanswered, and it wasn’t until days later that the police found her lifeless body. Before we divorced, I confronted Luke in tears, demanding answers. It was only then, after a long silence, that he finally spoke. “Faye,” he said, his voice low, “I’ve already lost one child. I can’t lose another.” I found out about Luke’s other child the day I picked up my daughter’s ashes from the crematorium. Driving home, I passed through a park and saw him—Luke, who was supposed to be at work. He was holding hands with a little boy, a smile on his face so unfamiliar, so alien to me, that I almost didn’t recognize him. I pulled over, watching from a distance as they walked toward a parked car. And then, Luke lifted the boy into his arms. The child laughed sweetly, calling him “Dad.” The sound snapped me out of my daze. I straightened my back, clutching the photo of my daughter in my hands. The phone on the seat beside me lit up, then dimmed again. I stared at it, my fingers hovering over the screen, my mind frozen on the number I knew by heart. I didn’t press call. Through the window, I watched them embrace—a picture-perfect pair of father and son, so ordinary it made my chest ache. A wave of frustration and bitterness rose inside me, sharp and suffocating. I tossed the phone aside and stared at my hands, memories flooding my mind. Luke had always been absent. He’d missed so many of our daughter’s birthdays, barely smiled in her presence, and rarely came home. Even the day she was taken, it was because he had forgotten to pick her up. That morning, knowing I had to leave for work, I’d reminded Luke over and over to pick up our daughter from preschool. I even sent him a message before leaving, just to be sure. But when I returned home that evening, the message was still marked unread. The teacher’s calls had gone unanswered. Our daughter had been left waiting alone, and in that moment of vulnerability, someone had taken her. I didn’t know where Luke had been that day or what he was doing. All I knew was that when I tried calling him that night, he didn’t answer. My messages went ignored. The next morning, the police called to tell me that my daughter had been found—but it was too late. In just one night, my little girl had been taken from me forever. When I rushed home, the house was empty. Luke hadn’t even come back. Desperate and seething with grief, I went to his office, screaming at him, demanding answers. He frowned, annoyed, and tried to deflect the blame. “I told you I’ve been busy with work,” he said coldly. “I didn’t have time to pick her up.” At the funeral, he seemed sad for a moment—just a moment. Then he went back to being the distant, indifferent man he’d always been. He stopped coming home altogether after that, spending more nights away than at the house. And yet, today, I had seen him playing with that little boy, his patience infinite, his smile soft and genuine. The memory of my daughter’s shy voice echoed in my mind. Just days before she was taken, she’d asked him hesitantly, “Daddy, can we have dinner together?” Luke had barely looked at her. His phone buzzed with a message, and his expression softened as he read it. “Sorry,” he said, his tone firm but distant. “Daddy’s too busy. Maybe next time.” But his “next times” had piled up, one after another, until they became never. I sat in my car, watching them until their figures disappeared around the corner. Finally, I started the engine and drove home.

That night, Luke didn’t come home. It was just like always. I didn’t call him. Instead, I drove to his office, parking outside. I waited for hours. The lights in the building eventually went out one by one. The security guard locked the doors, and the street fell into darkness. The cold night air seeped into my skin, leaving me numb. My mind was blank. I glanced at my phone. The last message from Luke was still sitting there, unread. “I’m working late tonight. Don’t wait up.” The same excuse, over and over again. I didn’t want to think about where he was or who he was with. But I couldn’t stop remembering the way my daughter used to wait for him at night, her little face lighting up every time the door opened. I couldn’t stop thinking about the cold, clinical texts he used to send, and the way his voice had sounded earlier that day when he spoke to that other child. The memories played on a loop in my mind until they blurred into one clear image: Luke, smiling as he held someone else’s child. My phone was in my hand before I even realized it. I called him. He answered after a few rings, his voice muffled by background noise. “Are you still at work?” I asked quietly, staring up at the dark office building. There was a pause, then silence. In the background, I heard it: a child’s voice, calling him “Dad.” The sound was like a knife to my chest, sharp and unforgiving. “Faye…” he began, but his voice trailed off. The empty street was so quiet I could hear my own heartbeat. And in that silence, memories came flooding back—memories I had tried so hard to suppress. I thought of the college years, when Luke had barely spoken to anyone, and I had foolishly chased after him, thinking I could warm his cold heart. I thought of our wedding day, when I cried tears of joy while he remained silent, distant. I’d told myself he was just reserved, that he didn’t know how to express his feelings. But now, the truth was impossible to ignore. Luke had never loved me. And he had never loved our daughter. He had been indifferent all along, taking everything for granted while I clung to my delusions. I’d turned myself into the heroine of some tragic love story, ignoring every red flag, every warning from friends. “Faye, are you still there?” His voice snapped me out of my thoughts. “How old is he?” I asked, my voice trembling. The line went silent. When Luke finally answered, his voice was low, hesitant. “Five,” he said. Five. A year younger than my daughter. My throat tightened, the cold air stinging my lungs as I struggled to breathe. I wanted to scream, to cry, to demand answers. But instead, I forced myself to speak calmly, my voice steady despite the tears streaming down my face. “Come home tomorrow,” I said. “We need to finalize the divorce.” There was a long pause. “Faye—” “I’m letting you go, Luke,” I interrupted, my voice breaking. And then I hung up.

By The Time I Got Home, It Was Already Past Midnight As I opened the door, I was greeted by the sight of Luke Harrison standing in the entryway. He had clearly been home for a while. The floor around him was littered with cigarette butts, and the sharp, acrid smell of smoke clung to his clothes. Luke used to smoke a lot when he was first building his business, a way to cope with the stress. But after we had our daughter, he swore he quit. He’d even said it was for her. Occasionally, he’d do things like that—small, thoughtful actions that felt like sugar after a slap. Little gestures to make me forget how cold and distant he could be. I opened my mouth, ready to bring up the divorce, but before I could say a word, Luke did something unexpected. “Are you hungry?” he asked. From behind his back, he pulled out a box of pastries—from my favorite bakery, no less. I shook my head, but he didn’t stop. He rushed to pour me a glass of water, fussing around the kitchen like he was too busy to stop and talk. By the time he was done, I’d lost my nerve. It hit me, then, that Luke wasn’t just stalling—he was avoiding the topic entirely. And for a fleeting moment, I felt something I hadn’t felt in years: hope. Maybe he didn’t want this marriage to end after all. But then my eyes drifted to the urn containing our daughter’s ashes, sitting quietly on the table. And that flicker of hope died as quickly as it had come. “Luke,” I began, my voice steady, “I want a div—” Before I could finish, his phone rang. The sound shattered the moment, and Luke eagerly grabbed it, relief flooding his face. At first, it seemed like he just wanted an excuse to leave the room. But after hearing something on the other end, his expression shifted to genuine concern. He quickly grabbed his coat, shrugging it on in a hurry. On instinct, I reached out and grabbed his hand. For a moment, he stopped. He looked at me, guilt flickering in his eyes, before gently pulling away. “Mason’s sick,” he said, his tone full of urgency. “It’s just a fever, but I need to go check on him. I’ll be back soon.” It was the first time in years he’d offered me an explanation for his absence. But instead of softening, my heart hardened. I couldn’t stop myself. “What about when our daughter was sick?” I shouted, my voice breaking. “What were you doing then, Luke? Where were you when I was calling you?” Years of resentment, frustration, and heartbreak erupted all at once, like a volcano that had been dormant for far too long. To my surprise, he didn’t slam the door and leave. Instead, he turned back and looked at me, his expression torn, as if he were weighing something in his mind. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he broke the silence. “Faye,” he said quietly, “I’ve already lost one child. I can’t lose another.” And with that, the door clicked shut behind him. I collapsed onto the floor, the strength draining from my body. His words echoed in my mind, ripping open old wounds that had barely begun to scab over. It was always like this. Every time I thought I was close to reaching him, to understanding him, he would pull away, leaving me further behind than before. For the first time, I began to question everything—the years we’d spent together, the love I thought we had. Had I been living a lie all along? As I sat there, numb, my hand brushed against a glass on the table. It tipped over and shattered on the floor. Instinctively, I stepped forward, barefoot, and the sharp sting of broken glass cutting into my skin jolted me back to reality. Pain has a way of clearing your mind. I didn’t pull out the divorce papers I had prepared. Instead, I picked up my phone and made a call. “Hello? I’d like to file a lawsuit against my husband—for infidelity.”

I Sat in the Living Room Until Sunrise By the time the first rays of sunlight spilled through the window onto the coffee table, I finally got up from the couch. Luke still hadn’t come home. It was impossible to count how many days it had been since I’d eaten properly. The gnawing hunger twisted my stomach, a relentless protest I could no longer ignore. I went into the kitchen, boiled some water, and pulled a bag of frozen dumplings from the freezer. The routine was automatic—dropping them into the pot, stirring, waiting—like muscle memory. When they were ready, I ate in silence, shoving the dumplings into my mouth, chewing mechanically, swallowing without tasting. The thought of following my daughter into death had crossed my mind once, but only for an instant. Because while the idea of escaping it all seemed tempting, the hatred burning inside me was stronger. The person who had taken her was still out there, free. If I gave up now, how could I ever face her again? After I washed the dishes, I did something I hadn’t done in years—I cleaned the entire house, top to bottom, every corner. When I was done, I found myself standing in front of Luke’s office door. He always locked it when he left, but today, in his rush, he’d forgotten. I pushed the door open and stepped inside. The first thing I saw was the desk, scattered with photos, and a package sitting in the corner. My mind flashed back to a few days ago, when Luke had come home unexpectedly, carrying a delivery. I’d thought it was mine and reached for it, only for him to snatch it away, his movements uncharacteristically frantic. The sender’s note said it was from a photography studio. I’d assumed it was something for our daughter, maybe a surprise. Her birthday had been coming up, and I’d been pestering him to help me make a photo album for her. When I saw how nervous he looked, I didn’t think much of it. I even felt touched, convinced he was finally making an effort. I’d patted his shoulder with a smile, grateful. But now, the truth hit me like a slap to the face. The photos scattered on the desk told a story I hadn’t been ready to see. Every single one of them was of Luke and the boy. In the top photo, the boy was just a baby, and Luke was holding him awkwardly, wonder and joy written all over his face. I thought back to when our daughter was born. Luke hadn’t even made it to the hospital until hours later, long after she’d arrived. It had been just me and my parents in the delivery room. Even the doctor had commented on how absent he was, calling him an unfit father. When Luke finally showed up that night, he stood silently at the edge of the room, his expression blank, his presence cold. From the moment she was born, he had never once voluntarily held her. I always had to push her into his arms. Now, I looked through photo after photo of Luke and the boy—smiling, laughing, close. Each image felt like a twist of the knife. At first, I felt overwhelming sadness. But as I flipped through the stack, that sadness gave way to numbness. Luke had never taken a single picture with our daughter. Not one. Every time she’d begged him to take a photo with her, he’d brush her off, awkwardly changing the subject. But in these photos, he looked so different. His initial awkwardness gave way to pure joy, his face lighting up with pride as the years passed. There were so many pictures—an entire stack documenting his life with the boy. They weren’t just photos. They were evidence. Proof of the life he’d been living behind my back. In that moment, I realized how blind I’d been. Luke’s betrayal hadn’t been subtle. He wasn’t even good at hiding it. I’d just been too willing to believe him, too desperate to ignore the cracks in our marriage. But once I let myself see the truth, it was everywhere—undeniable and damning. I gathered the photos and the package, clutching them tightly as I left the room. The evidence had always been there. I’d just refused to look. And now, finally, I couldn’t look away.

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When the earthquake hit, I was trapped under the rubble alongside another woman. “She has a steel rod piercing her chest,” the doctor said, gesturing toward me. “She needs immediate attention, or she won’t make it.” Just as the rescue team was about to rush to me, my husband, Eric Blake, appeared out of nowhere. “Save her first!” he shouted, pointing at the other woman. “She’s pregnant!” I followed his gaze and saw the desperation in his eyes as he looked at her. But he didn’t know—I was pregnant too. The doctor attending to me called out urgently, “She’s losing too much blood! I suspect she has a clotting disorder. If we don’t act now, she won’t make it!” I nodded weakly, my vision blurry, silently begging Eric to choose me. But Eric’s voice was calm, deliberate, and unyielding. “I’m her husband,” he said, pointing at me. “If anything happens, I’ll take full responsibility.” Eric’s words made the rescue team hesitate for a moment, but ultimately, they turned away from me and went to the other woman. After all, with a family member willing to take responsibility, it didn’t matter who they saved first. I lay there on the cold, crumbling ground, my mind spinning with disbelief. Eric’s words echoed over and over in my head. The doctor and nurse working on me exchanged glances and couldn’t hold back their frustration. “Unbelievable,” one muttered. “His wife is critically injured, but he’s prioritizing another woman?” “And that woman doesn’t even look hurt,” the other nurse chimed in. “Just a few scrapes and bruises, but she’s acting like she’s the most injured person here.” “Seven years of marriage, and this is what she gets,” the first one added bitterly. “Her chest is literally impaled, and her husband doesn’t even blink an eye.” Their words cut deeper than the wound in my chest. I turned my head slightly and saw Eric cradling the other woman—her name was Lauren. His hands were trembling as he held her close, his face full of worry, guilt, and tenderness. It was a side of him I had never seen in all our years together. Not once, in seven years of marriage, had he ever looked at me like that. He wasn’t heartless. His heart just didn’t belong to me. It belonged entirely to Lauren. As my body grew colder, I realized I was losing the strength to hold on. If something didn’t change soon, I wouldn’t just lose my life—I’d lose my baby too. Summoning every ounce of energy I had left, I grabbed the nurse’s hand, my voice trembling. “Please,” I begged, “save me. I’m pregnant too…” Before the nurse could respond, Eric walked over, still holding Lauren in his arms. When he heard my words, his face twisted with disgust. “Even now,” he sneered, “you’re still trying to manipulate me with your little sob stories. How pathetic.” His words hit me like a slap. “You’re lying,” he continued coldly. “You’re just saying that to compete with Lauren. She’s the one who’s actually pregnant.” He turned to the doctor with a sharp tone. “Don’t waste your time on her. She’s perfectly fine. Check on Lauren instead—she needs a full examination.” I couldn’t fight anymore. My grip on the nurse’s hand loosened, and my vision dimmed. The nurse screamed, “She’s crashing! We’re losing her!” But Eric didn’t even glance my way. “I told you,” he snapped, “if anything happens, I’ll take responsibility. She’s just faking it. Focus on Lauren—she’s the priority here!” The doctor hesitated but ultimately followed Eric’s orders, leaving me behind to check on Lauren. Only the young nurse stayed by my side, her hand gripping mine tightly. “Hang on,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “We’re going to save you. I promise.” I tried to stay awake, but the pain was unbearable. Warm blood was seeping out of me, and no one seemed to care. As my tears fell silently, I had one last thought before slipping into unconsciousness: How could this hurt so much? Seven years of marriage, and when it came down to life or death, he didn’t even hesitate to choose someone else. I woke up in the ER, the blinding white light above me making me squint. “Hey,” a soft voice said. It was the young nurse who had stayed with me. Her eyes were red, and her voice wavered as she spoke. “You’re awake,” she said, relief flooding her face. “Thank God.” She hesitated, biting her lip before continuing. “Do you have another family member we can contact? We need someone to sign the anesthesia consent form.” I stared at her, confused. “We’ve been calling your husband,” she explained, “but he’s not answering.” My chest tightened. Of course, Eric wasn’t answering. He was probably too busy taking care of Lauren to even think about me. “It’s fine,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “I’ll sign it myself.” The nurse looked at me with pity as I shakily scribbled my name on the form. As the pain threatened to pull me under again, I heard the faint murmur of voices from the staff around me. “Marriage really is a gamble, isn’t it?” one of them said. “Look at the guy with the pregnant woman—he’s treating her like she’s made of glass.” “Yeah,” another agreed. “And then there’s this poor woman. She’s on death’s door, and her husband’s nowhere to be found.”

The young nurse’s voice was uneasy, and when she noticed the whispered remarks from the other medical staff, she quickly interrupted, worried I’d overhear. “Please, stop talking!” she snapped. But I wasn’t upset. In fact, I almost wanted to laugh. What would they think if they knew the man they called a “good husband” had abandoned his wife and unborn child to fawn over another woman? None of it mattered anymore. The only thing I cared about now was saving my baby. As the anesthesia began to flow through my veins, I caught the nurse’s gaze and whispered weakly: “My baby…” But before I could say another word, the darkness swallowed me whole. When I opened my eyes again, the sharp smell of disinfectant filled my nose. The lingering effects of the anesthesia made my limbs feel heavy, but the first thing I did was lift a trembling hand to my stomach. “You’re awake! How are you feeling?” The young nurse, now standing in the doorway, let out a sigh of relief when she saw me stir. Her eyes sparkled with joy as she stepped closer, pulling the blanket snugly around me. “Don’t worry,” she said gently. “The baby is safe.” Hearing those words, I exhaled deeply, my heart easing for the first time in what felt like an eternity. But the nurse wasn’t finished. She pouted, her tone tinged with frustration as she continued. “Still… I don’t understand. Your husband treats you like this, but even when your life was on the line, all you cared about was his child. Is it really worth it?” I forced a weak smile, one that barely reached my eyes. “The baby is innocent,” I murmured. “At least they deserve a chance.” The nurse paused, her expression softening with sympathy. She nodded slowly, though her pity was clear in her eyes. Without saying more, she told me to rest and left the room. I tried to let sleep claim me again, my body heavy with exhaustion. But just as my eyes fluttered shut, muffled voices drifted in from the room next door. The voices were unmistakable. “Eric, it hurts so much,” a woman whimpered. “Lauren, I’m right here,” Eric replied in a voice so soft, so tender, that it sent a chill through me. My lashes trembled. I stared blankly at the ceiling, my chest tightening. “Eric… the baby…” Lauren continued, her voice laced with fragility. “Don’t worry,” Eric soothed her. “I’m here. The baby’s fine. I won’t let anything happen to you or the baby.” His tone was filled with a warmth I had never heard before—a patience and care he had never once shown me. “Shouldn’t you check on her?” Lauren asked hesitantly. “Your wife… she seemed really badly hurt.” And just like that, the warmth in Eric’s voice disappeared. “Why should you care about her?” he snapped. “You’re too kind, Lauren. That woman is manipulative and cruel. She even tried to lie about being pregnant just to steal resources from you. Someone like that… if she dies, it’s what she deserves.” My mind went blank, and before I could stop them, tears spilled from my eyes. The steel rod that had pierced my chest didn’t hurt nearly as much as the words Eric had just said. I couldn’t listen anymore. I forced my eyes shut, trying to block out the pain. When my condition stabilized, they moved me to a standard recovery room. I decided to call the housekeeper, Mary, to help take care of me. The phone rang for a long time with no answer. Just as I was about to hang up, the door creaked open. Mary walked in, carrying a food container. Our eyes met, and I immediately noticed the awkwardness in her expression. She looked startled and unsure, like she had walked into the wrong room. “Mary,” I said slowly, setting my phone aside. “Why didn’t you answer my call?” She hesitated, gripping the container tightly behind her back. “I… I’m here because Mr. Blake asked me to come,” she stammered. I let out a bitter laugh, though I wasn’t surprised. Of course Eric had sent her. If he could insist on saving Lauren during the earthquake, it was no stretch to think he’d send the housekeeper to care for her afterward. I cleared my throat and smiled faintly at Mary. “Well, since you’re here, why don’t you take me for a walk?” Mary hesitated for a moment but eventually nodded, pushing a wheelchair toward me. We stopped in front of Lauren’s room. Inside, I saw her lying on the hospital bed. She was young and beautiful, with flawless porcelain skin and delicate features. Her arched eyebrows framed a pair of clear, innocent eyes. When she noticed me, she didn’t look surprised. Instead, she regarded me with a calm, almost entitled expression. “Mary, who is this?” Lauren asked, her voice soft but filled with authority. I didn’t answer. I just stared at her in silence. Mary fidgeted nervously before clearing her throat. “She… she’s Mr. Blake’s wife,” Mary said, her voice barely above a whisper. Lauren’s expression shifted instantly. She put on an exaggerated look of pity, her voice turning saccharine. “Oh, so you’re Eric’s wife,” she said, emphasizing the word wife with a pointed sweetness. “Please don’t blame Eric,” she continued, her eyes brimming with fake remorse. “It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t gotten hurt… if I hadn’t been pregnant… Eric would never have left you to take care of me.” Her words dripped with mock humility, but I could hear the triumph hidden beneath her tone. I chuckled coldly. “Eric has terrible taste,” I said plainly. “If he likes you so much, he can have you. A man like that isn’t worth keeping.” I turned my wheelchair to leave, but before I could get far, I felt a sudden, violent shove from behind. The wheelchair slammed into the bedside table, and I was thrown to the ground. Pain shot through my body like fire, leaving me gasping. Mary rushed to help me, her face pale with panic. “Are you okay?” she cried, trying to lift me back into the chair. Behind me, Lauren’s voice was sickeningly sweet. “Oh no, I’m so sorry,” she said, her tone dripping with insincerity. “I didn’t mean to push you. I just got so anxious—I didn’t want you to misunderstand me and Eric.” Her words barely registered. A warm, wet sensation spread between my legs, and when I looked down, I saw blood staining my hospital gown. Lauren let out a dramatic gasp. “Oh no, she’s bleeding! Someone help! We need a doctor!” Her voice was filled with panic, but as our eyes met, I caught a fleeting glimmer of satisfaction in her gaze. They rushed me into the operating room, but this time, luck didn’t save me. When I woke up, my baby was gone. Eric was sitting beside the bed, his expression dark and brooding. For a brief moment, I thought he had finally realized what had happened. But his first words shattered that hope. “You shouldn’t have gone to see Lauren.” “What?” I whispered, staring at him in disbelief. Eric’s tone was cold and accusatory. “You brought this on yourself,” he said flatly. “If you’d just stayed in your room and left Lauren alone, none of this would’ve happened.” I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms as I fought back tears. He didn’t even know about the baby. And he never would. Reaching into his pocket, Eric pulled out a pair of earrings and placed them on the bedside table. “What’s this?” I asked, my voice hollow. “It’s for you,” he said, clearing his throat. I recognized the earrings immediately. They were a pair I had once begged him to buy. Back then, he’d scolded me, saying a married woman shouldn’t waste money on frivolous things like jewelry. So why now? Eric’s next words answered my question. “There’s been a lot of media attention on the earthquake,” he said carefully. “And?” “And… reporters are coming to the hospital tomorrow. I need you to let Lauren take your place for the interview. She’ll pretend to be my wife.” Chapter 4 Eric’s shameless words disgusted me to the core. I couldn’t hold back and asked coldly, “And how exactly am I supposed to ‘let’ someone else be me?” Eric glanced at me, his tone calm, as if he’d already planned everything. “I’ve already taken care of it. The medical records have been swapped. No one will ever find out.” I stayed silent. Seeing my lack of response, Eric softened his voice, mistaking my silence for hesitation. “I know you’ve always wanted a child. Once you recover, we’ll have another one. I promise.” He leaned in slightly, his tone almost coaxing. “You know, my company is about to go public. This kind of publicity is exactly what we need to solidify its reputation. And with Lauren being a public figure, her involvement will draw even more attention.” He paused, as if delivering the final pitch of a business deal. “If we handle this right, it’ll be a win-win for all of us. This is for the greater good.” I couldn’t help but laugh—cold and bitter. Of course, even now, Eric’s only thoughts were for Lauren and himself. Not once, not for a single moment, had he considered me. “Fine,” I said flatly, nodding without hesitation. Relief washed over his face as he grabbed my hand, his voice suddenly filled with faux affection. “Thank you for understanding. We’re in this together, aren’t we? When I succeed, you’ll benefit too.” He stood up, patting my hand like a business partner sealing a deal. “Get some rest. I’ll check on you later.” But the irony was, he never came back. By the morning of the interview, Eric hadn’t visited once. Through some inquiries, I found out the press conference was being held in the hospital’s main hall. Ignoring the pain coursing through my still-healing body, I dragged myself there, timing my arrival perfectly. When I reached the crowded hall, reporters had already packed the space, their cameras clicking nonstop. Through the sea of people, I spotted Eric immediately. He was standing beside Lauren, who sat demurely in a wheelchair. Lauren had dressed herself to look as if she’d barely survived the disaster—her face pale, her arm in a sling, and a thin blanket draped over her lap. Eric stood behind her, his hands resting protectively on the wheelchair handles. They looked every bit the perfect, loving couple. Reporters swarmed them, microphones thrust forward as questions flew. “Ms. Hayes,” one reporter asked, “you’ve been through so much. Who would you say you’re most grateful to for surviving this ordeal?” Lauren gave a faint, angelic smile, her voice soft and delicate. “I want to thank the doctors who saved me. Without their incredible efforts, neither I nor my baby would be here today.” She paused strategically, her hand brushing over her stomach, before continuing: “But most of all, I want to thank my partner. During those life-and-death moments, his unwavering support gave me the strength to hold on.” The crowd erupted into applause, voices rising in admiration. “How inspiring! Your love must have only grown stronger through this experience.” “Absolutely. With so many families torn apart by the earthquake, it’s a miracle that the three of you made it out alive. You’re truly blessed.” Another reporter turned to Eric, their voice brimming with praise. “Mr. Blake, not only are you a successful businessman, but you’re also a devoted husband. You’re an inspiration to men everywhere. Do you have any advice for others on how to balance work and love so perfectly?” Eric, ever the performer, bent slightly toward the microphone. He looked down at Lauren with a gaze so tender it made me sick to my stomach. He cleared his throat, preparing to deliver yet another well-rehearsed line. But before he could say a word, I stepped forward. Pushing through the crowd, I walked directly toward him, clutching the item I had brought with me. The room fell silent as I approached, my every step echoing in the tense air. And then, without hesitation— SLAP! The sound of my palm striking Eric’s face echoed through the hall. He stumbled back, nearly losing his balance, his hand flying to his cheek in shock. The room erupted into chaos. Reporters gasped, their cameras whirring as they turned to capture the scene. “Lydia, what the hell are you doing?!” Eric shouted, his voice a mix of anger and disbelief. But I didn’t look at him. My gaze was locked on Lauren, who stared at me wide-eyed, frozen in her wheelchair. I pointed directly at her, my voice sharp and unyielding. “She’s your wife?” I said, my tone dripping with sarcasm. “Then who am I? Did you ever stop to think about our child?” Eric’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. Before he could respond, I reached into my arms and tore away the black cloth I’d been holding. Gasps filled the room as I revealed the small, square box underneath. It was a child’s urn.

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Three years after my death, Alex Pierce got engaged to the woman he truly loved. At the engagement party, he finally thought of me. “Where’s Emma Reed?” he asked, a trace of mockery in his voice. “She’s always been the type to steal the spotlight, never one to keep quiet. So why is it that on my engagement day, she hasn’t caused any trouble? No dramatic entrance, no noise—nothing.” His words stunned me. He didn’t know I had died. And surely, he didn’t know that even after death, I hadn’t found peace. My body was stolen. My corneas, my heart, my kidneys—all of it harvested and sold to some underground laboratory for profit. In the end, I became nothing more than a piece of her—the woman he adored. Her perfect nose, her delicate ribcage—they were mine. When Alex learned the truth, it broke him. He spiraled into madness, hunting down everyone who had hurt me, unleashing his wrath on them one by one. This man, who once despised me, ended up on his knees at my grave, crying and begging for forgiveness. He squandered his fortune, trading everything for redemption. But I didn’t care. He disgusted me. He polluted the path to my next life.

Alex Pierce, the rising star of the business world, had just gotten engaged to Lila Hayes, the daughter of a powerful tycoon. The engagement party was extravagant, attended by the most influential figures in Belmont City. As the night went on, guests toasted the couple, their congratulations ranging from heartfelt to blatantly insincere. Alex remained cordial, thanking everyone as he scanned the room, his sharp eyes searching for someone. When he didn’t find what—or rather, who—he was looking for, his expression darkened. With a cold sneer, he broke the silence. “Where’s Emma Reed? Why isn’t she here? She’s never been one to miss a chance to make a scene. Did she finally grow up and decide to behave, or is she sulking somewhere, planning something big? Or maybe,” he said with a mocking laugh, “she’s too much of a coward to face me?” The room fell silent. Every guest froze, their eyes darting between each other. There were those who didn’t know the truth, those who smirked at the drama, and those who looked at him with pity. Lila, clinging to Alex’s arm, gave him a soft, reassuring smile. “She’s young,” Lila said gently, her voice sweet and soothing. “Probably off on another one of her adventures. We sent her the invitation weeks ago—maybe she forgot because she’s traveling.” That only made Alex’s expression darker. His jaw tightened, and his hand gripped his glass so hard it was a miracle it didn’t shatter. His voice was cold as ice. “If she doesn’t want to come, fine. It’s better this way. She’d only ruin the evening anyway.” The tension in the room was suffocating, the silence deafening—until a deep, steady voice cut through it like a blade. “She’s not coming.” Alex turned sharply, locking eyes with the speaker. For the first time in years, I saw my brother, Noah Reed. The man who had always been stoic and composed now looked at Alex with pure disdain. “What do you mean, she’s not coming?” Alex asked, his voice faltering for the first time. There was fear in his eyes—fear that he didn’t understand, or didn’t want to face. Noah’s gaze was unwavering. His words were slow, deliberate. “She’s dead.” The glass in Alex’s hand slipped through his fingers, shattering against the floor. His lips moved, but no sound came out. His throat bobbed as he tried to speak, but all he managed was a hoarse whisper. “Impossible. This is just another one of her games. She’s always been a liar.” Noah, clearly irritated, clapped his hands once, the sound sharp and commanding. “Do I look like I’m joking?” Before Alex could respond, the doors to the ballroom burst open. A group of men in black suits stormed in, their faces cold and unreadable. Without hesitation, they began smashing everything in sight. The carefully arranged champagne tower toppled, shards of glass and golden liquid spilling across the floor. The once-pristine venue descended into chaos as guests screamed and scrambled to get away. The wives of wealthy businessmen, who usually prided themselves on their elegance, were now tripping over each other, slipping on the wet tiles as they fled. In the middle of the chaos, Alex stood frozen, his brows furrowed in disbelief. He didn’t trust Noah’s words, but he also didn’t dare challenge them. Lila, her carefully curated composure slipping, glared at Noah with barely concealed rage. “What the hell are you doing?” she shouted, her voice shrill. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? This is my engagement party!” Noah’s smile was cold, his eyes darkening. “Miss Hayes,” he said, his voice low and menacing, “don’t you know exactly what I mean?”

My Spirit Stood Behind Lila Hayes, Watching the Chaos Unfold I sighed as I watched the scene around me spiral into disorder. Lila, visibly shaken, instinctively stepped back—straight through my incorporeal body. My brother, Noah, didn’t hesitate. He raised his hand and slapped her hard across the face. Afterward, he calmly pulled out a handkerchief, wiping his hand as though he’d just touched something filthy. It was a heavy slap. Her nose was crooked. When the men in black finished smashing everything in sight, Alex finally snapped out of his stupor. His gaze darted between Lila’s swollen, tear-streaked face and her now-bent nose. Quickly, he stepped in front of her, shielding her, his eyes blazing with fury as he glared at Noah. “What the hell are you doing?” Alex demanded, his voice sharp and shaking. “Our families have no grudges against each other! Why are you ruining my engagement party? And what’s this nonsense about Emma being dead? Maybe you should stop throwing around accusations and go figure out if she ran off with some loser instead of dragging my fiancée into your lies!” Behind him, Lila whimpered, clutching her face as she leaned pitifully against Alex. But I could see the glint in her eyes—the calculation, the malice. Noah glanced at Alex, his expression cold and unbothered. “We’ll see about that.” With that, he turned and walked away. I reflexively lifted my foot to follow him but froze in place, fear gripping me. For as long as I could remember, I’d been trapped, tethered to Lila’s presence like a ghost bound to its captor. Every time I tried to leave the area she occupied, I was struck with unbearable, lightning-like pain that left my soul writhing in agony. For three years, I’d endured this torment, watching others like me—young girls, children, even the elderly—trapped, beaten down, and desperate to return home. Just like them, I had only one wish: to go home. Today, I decided to try again. This time, there was no resistance. My soul broke free of the invisible shackles with ease. The searing pain I’d braced for never came. I was free. Finally, I could go home. A wave of overwhelming emotion hit me, and my vision blurred. I followed Noah to his car, climbing in behind him. As he drove, I noticed him pull out an old, worn wallet—the soft pink leather faded with age. It was the first gift I had ever made for him, back when I’d learned how to do crafts. He had kept it all this time, taking care of it as if it were something precious. I leaned closer and saw him staring at a family photo tucked inside. In the picture, Dad looked young, Mom radiated beauty, and Noah, barely a teenager, had a boyish face untouched by the weight of adulthood. And there I was: a chubby-cheeked little girl, sitting in Mom’s lap with a big, carefree grin. I sighed. Those were the days when life was simple, when happiness was easy to find. When we got home, my black-and-white photo and urn sat at the center of the table. Surrounding them were offerings of fruit and snacks—all my favorites. Mom lit three sticks of incense, her hands trembling as she whispered, “Emma, sweetheart, if you’re not doing well, come to us in a dream. Tell us what you need. We’ll send you more offerings, more money, anything to make sure you’re okay out there.” Her voice broke as she continued. “Just the other night, I dreamed of you crying—crying so hard it broke my heart. You said you wanted to come home. Oh, Emma, if only we hadn’t gone abroad, or if we’d sent Noah back sooner, would you still be here with us? Would you still be safe?” Her tears flowed freely now, and I reached out instinctively to wipe them away. But my hand passed right through her. Mom had always been so meticulous about her appearance, but now her once-black hair was streaked with gray. Noah crossed the room in long strides, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “It’s not your fault, Mom,” he said firmly, though anger boiled beneath his calm tone. “It’s their fault—the Hayes family, the Pierces. They’re the ones who destroyed her. They cremated her body so quickly, without a second thought, before we could even see her one last time. All they left us with was ashes.” At the mention of ashes, Mom’s grief turned to fury. She pounded her fists against her chest, screaming, “Those monsters! We trusted them! They didn’t just kill my baby—they robbed her of peace, even in death. They’re murderers!” Noah’s hand tightened on her shoulder, his voice low but resolute. “Don’t worry, Mom. Everyone who hurt Emma will pay. Every single one of them. The Hayes family, the Pierces—they’ll give back what they owe us. What they owe her.” I floated above them, staring at the urn that held what was left of me. A chill ran through me, colder than anything I’d ever felt. I was dead. I knew that. But hearing them talk about my cremation, about how my body had been burned without dignity or respect, filled me with dread. Why? What was I afraid of? I couldn’t remember how I died. The details were blurry, slipping through my fingers like water. Was it… unnatural? Later that evening, Dad came home. The family gathered around the dinner table, but the atmosphere was heavy, the air thick with unspoken sorrow. Mom’s eyes were swollen from crying. Dad’s face was lined with exhaustion. Noah’s jaw was clenched, his anger barely contained. Grief and hatred had consumed them, leaving scars that wouldn’t fade. I wanted to tell them, I’m okay. I’m home now. I’m right here with you. But no matter how hard I tried, they couldn’t hear me. They couldn’t see me.

My Soul Drifted Aimlessly, Yet Somehow I Found Myself Back with Alex Pierce It seemed Lila Hayes had rushed off to get her nose fixed, leaving the mansion unusually quiet. Alex was in his study, sitting at his desk, but he wasn’t working. His eyes were glazed, staring blankly ahead, the only light in the room coming from his phone screen. Curious, I floated closer. He was drafting a text message—for me. I watched as he typed and deleted, over and over again. At first, he wanted to ask if I was doing okay, then if I had finished school. But in the end, all he sent was a short, hesitant message: “Are you back in the country?” But I couldn’t reply. I couldn’t return to him. As time passed and the screen remained silent, his patience wore thin. I could see the anger rising in his expression. Convinced I was playing some sort of game with him, his frustration boiled over. He grabbed his phone and hurled it onto the floor. The screen shattered into pieces as he muttered, “Emma Reed, you better never reply to me again. Don’t even bother.” His voice grew louder, trembling with barely-contained rage. “I can’t believe I even let myself consider the idea that you were dead! What a joke. You’re just a pathological liar, always have been!” I sighed, regret washing over me. How had I ever fallen for someone like Alex Pierce? Someone so temperamental, who flew into a rage and smashed things whenever things didn’t go his way. But he hadn’t always been this way. There was a time when Alex was different—when he was kind, patient, and full of warmth. Back then, he was the kind of person whose smile could light up an entire room. Though he was decisive and commanding when it came to business, he was soft-spoken and considerate when it came to people. He had a way of making everyone feel seen and valued, like sunlight breaking through the coldest winter. It was during those years that my parents had been dealing with trouble at their company overseas, and my brother was busy with school. I was sent to live with my parents’ close friends—Alex’s family. But his parents were constantly busy, and I hardly ever saw them. For all intents and purposes, Alex was the one who raised me. I was only a child, and the kids at school weren’t kind. They teased me relentlessly, saying my parents had abandoned me, calling me an unwanted stray. I didn’t understand how cruel words could be back then. All I knew was that I felt completely and utterly alone. I started to withdraw, believing their words, believing that no one wanted me. But Alex was always there. He’d pull out a lollipop and sit beside me, patiently coaxing me out of my sadness. “You’re not unwanted,” he’d say with a gentle smile. “If no one else wants you, I do.” He became my safe harbor, my everything. For years, my world revolved around Alex Pierce. In my youth, he was my light, warm and steady, chasing away the shadows. But these past three years, following Lila Hayes like a ghost, I saw a side of Alex that I barely recognized. He had become volatile, cruel, and petty. His temper flared over the smallest of things, and he would lash out without hesitation. His words cut deep, dripping with venom, and every little inconvenience seemed to set him off. This wasn’t the Alex I had known. This was someone bitter and broken, someone who reeked of anger and resentment—a stench that clung to his very soul. As I watched, Alex swept everything off his desk in a fit of rage, sending papers, books, and pens crashing to the floor. And yet, even in his fury, he couldn’t stop talking to me. “Emma Reed, you’ve really grown bold, haven’t you? I gave you an out, and you wouldn’t take it!” “You think you’re so clever, don’t you? Just wait—when the time comes, don’t come crawling back to me, begging for forgiveness!” I stood in front of him, staring, my heart heavy with a sorrow I couldn’t express. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to reply. It wasn’t that I was ignoring him. It was because I was already dead.

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On the day of my engagement, I found out my father’s mistress was none other than my best friend. Standing just a few feet away, I saw them wrapped in each other’s arms. My world collapsed. Instinctively, I reached for my fiancé, Cole Parker, hoping to find some comfort. But the second my hand brushed against his, I felt only coldness—his hands were clenched into tight fists. Confused, I looked up at him. His eyes were bloodshot, his face twisted with rage and jealousy. Before I could react, he stormed forward and threw a punch at my father. “Richard Hayes, you dare touch my woman? I’ll kill you!” I stood there in my engagement dress, frozen in the middle of a busy street. It felt like I had fallen into an icy abyss. My fiancé and my father were brawling on my engagement day—because of my best friend. I couldn’t imagine anything more absurd or humiliating. The guests who had come to celebrate were left speechless, their eyes darting between the fight and me, their whispers barely masking their amusement or pity. And then my so-called best friend, Mia, sauntered up to me, a smug smile plastered across her face. She looked me up and down, completely unfazed by the chaos. “Lila Hayes,” she said, her voice dripping with mockery, “why should you have everything? Why should you get to live a life of luxury while I have nothing? It’s not fair. But don’t worry—now everything you have belongs to me.” Her words shattered me further. I turned to my mother, desperate for some kind of support, some comfort. But to my horror, she was just standing there, watching it all unfold with a cold, detached expression. My heart sank as I stumbled toward her, tears streaming down my face. “You knew, didn’t you?” I choked out, my voice trembling. My mother sighed, her face devoid of the warmth she had shown earlier during the engagement party when she’d held my hand and proudly called me her “precious daughter.” “Yes,” she admitted, her tone flat. “I’ve known for a while.” “Why didn’t you tell me?” I screamed, my voice breaking as tears ruined my carefully applied makeup, smearing it into a grotesque mess. “What good would it have done?” she said, her voice unfeeling. “You’d just be another person suffering. The Hayes and Parker families need this marriage to happen. Do you have another option?” I laughed bitterly, the sound hollow and filled with despair. “So that’s all I am to you,” I said, my voice trembling. “A tool for this alliance. My happiness doesn’t matter. Loyalty doesn’t matter. Honesty within this family doesn’t matter, does it?” My mother averted her gaze, looking toward the fight between my father and Cole, now being broken up by their assistants. “Lila,” she said, her voice sharp, “what right do you have to complain? No one in this family has it easy.” Her words hit me like a slap. I staggered back, my tears blurring my vision as I shook my head in disbelief. “Wow,” I whispered, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “My engagement day—one of the most important days of my life—and my dad, my fiancé, my best friend, and even my own mother have all betrayed me. What a pathetic joke I am.” With that, I turned and ran, ignoring the voices calling my name. I couldn’t stay there a second longer. Everyone in that place disgusted me.

By the time Cole returned to the house that evening, I had already destroyed everything in the engagement suite. The servants huddled in a corner, too terrified to intervene, watching me tear through the room like a hurricane. When I finally collapsed on the floor, exhausted and out of breath, Cole walked in. His shirt was unbuttoned at the top, revealing bruises on his chest and a fresh cut on his cheek. He looked down at me with zero remorse, his expression cold and condescending. “Are you done?” he asked, his tone laced with irritation. I glared up at him through my tears, wishing my gaze could cut him like a knife. “Lila,” he began, his voice calm but mocking, “this is just a business arrangement. I thought we both understood that. I didn’t think I needed your permission to see other women.” His words made my blood boil. I grabbed a broken vase from the floor and hurled it at him with all the strength I had left. But he sidestepped it effortlessly, letting it shatter against the wall behind him. Cole let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Bring me a mirror,” he called to one of the servants. The staff scrambled to find one that hadn’t been smashed in my rampage. They returned with a small, cracked mirror, which Cole grabbed without hesitation. Without caring about the jagged edges, he shoved the mirror in front of my face. “Look at yourself,” he sneered. “Take a good, long look. What do you see? A spoiled brat throwing a tantrum? You’re pathetic. A far cry from the poised, elegant woman you pretend to be. You’re nothing but a disgrace. Tell me, Lila—what do you have that can even compare to Mia?” I stared at my reflection. My makeup was ruined, my hair a tangled mess, my face streaked with tears and smeared mascara. I looked like a ghost of myself. “Nothing,” I whispered, my voice hollow. “I have nothing left. It’s all hers now. Congratulations, Cole—you get to share a woman with your future father-in-law.” The words had barely left my mouth when his hand struck me across the face. The force of the slap sent me careening into the coffee table. My head hit the edge, and blood began to drip down my forehead, mixing with the mess on my face. “Shut your damn mouth!” Cole roared, his voice filled with venom. “You’re no angel yourself. Don’t act like you’re some innocent victim. You’re lucky I even agreed to marry you. If you insult Mia again, I’ll make sure you regret it.” He took a step back, glaring down at me with pure disdain. “As for your father,” he added, his voice cold, “he’ll pay for crossing me. The Hayes family fortune isn’t his to control. Marrying you was already a loss for me.” His phone buzzed, interrupting his tirade. The anger on his face disappeared in an instant, replaced by a sickeningly sweet smile as he answered the call. I knew exactly who was on the other end of the line. Even after everything that had happened, he was still whispering sweet nothings to Mia. I felt bile rise in my throat. Before I even realized what I was doing, I lunged at him, pounding my fists against his chest. “You liar!” I screamed. “You said you loved me! That’s the only reason I agreed to this sham of a marriage! You’re all liars—every single one of you!” Cole grabbed me by the shoulders and shoved me to the ground. “You brought this on yourself,” he snarled, his boot pressing down on my hand. The shards of broken glass dug into my palm, drawing blood. “You believed me because you’re an idiot,” he hissed. “You’re nothing but a naive fool. Don’t blame me for your stupidity.”

I returned to the Hayes estate like a walking corpse. The house was eerily quiet, the usual noise of the staff completely absent. The sprawling mansion felt colder and emptier than ever. In the living room, my parents were locked in a tense confrontation. “Richard Hayes,” my mother, Evelyn, said calmly, taking a sip of her tea. “I can cover for you this time, clean up the mess from Lila’s engagement disaster. But I’ll need 10% of the company’s shares in exchange.” My father shot up from the couch, his face twisted with fury. “Evelyn, don’t push me!” he barked, his voice echoing through the room. She let out a sharp laugh, unimpressed by his outburst. “Push you? You’re the one sneaking around like a fool, not even smart enough to hide your tracks. You couldn’t keep your mistress a secret from your own daughter. And let’s talk about who you picked—Mia? Really, Richard? Of all the women in the world, you chose her? Talk about desperate.” At her words, my father’s anger melted into a cold smirk. Sitting back down, he ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair, regaining his composure. “Lila and Mia are close, aren’t they?” he said, his tone mocking. “All I’ve done is bring the family closer. A little bonding, if you will.” My mother scoffed. “You’re disgusting, Richard. Just sign the papers. Are you giving me the shares or not?” I stood frozen in the entryway, hidden in the shadows, tears silently streaming down my face. In their eyes, I wasn’t their daughter. I wasn’t even a person. I was just a tool. All the love and privilege they’d showered on me over the years? It was nothing more than an investment. An animal fattened up for slaughter, ready to be traded for their benefit. I wiped my tears and stepped into the room, my feet heavy but determined. When they saw me, the air shifted. My father’s smirk faltered for a brief moment, but he quickly masked it. My mother didn’t even flinch, her expression as unreadable as ever. “So this is why you had me,” I said, my voice low and hollow. “Not because you wanted a child, but because you needed a tool. Wouldn’t adopting one have been cheaper?” My father’s expression hardened. Reaching for the ornate ruler on the side table, he weighed it in his hand like a weapon, his gaze sharp and commanding. “Lila,” he said, his voice cold. “Is that how you talk to your father?” My mother stood, uninterested in the unfolding drama. She sighed, clearly intent on leaving the room. I ignored my father’s looming presence and turned to her instead. “Mom,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “You never loved me, did you?” All those years of soft smiles, gentle words, and careful lessons—they were nothing but calculated lies. Every decision she made in the name of “love” had been nothing more than a cold, strategic move. She looked me over, her lips curling into a faint, pitying smile. “Lila,” she said finally, “look at the state you’re in. You’re embarrassing.” Her words hit harder than Cole’s slap earlier that day. “Embarrassing?” I repeated, laughing bitterly as tears burned my eyes. “And what about Richard Hayes and Cole Parker? Is there anyone in this city more humiliating than them right now?” My father rose slowly, his presence suffocating as he stalked toward me. His gaze was heavy with disappointment. “Lila,” he said, his voice low and menacing, “you’ve forgotten your place. After everything this family has done for you, after all the effort we’ve put into raising you, this is how you repay us?” I let out a hollow laugh, staring at him through a haze of tears. Even his disappointment was laced with cruelty. “You’re right. I have forgotten my place,” I said, my voice breaking. “I was foolish enough to think I could have real love, real family. But I forgot—this family is nothing but monsters, and I’m just another pawn in your game.” My father nodded, unmoved by my words. “If you’re too stubborn to see reason, then it’s time for you to clear your head,” he said coldly. “Go to the chapel and kneel. And make sure they bring the red mat for you.” My stomach dropped. The red mat wasn’t just for kneeling—it was lined with sharp, jagged spikes. My father had used it to punish disobedient employees before, and the thought of being forced onto it made my blood run cold. I stared at him in horror, but he only smiled. “Lila,” he said, his tone mocking, “your father’s had a rough day. Do you really think you can walk away from this without consequences?” Panic surged through me, and I tried to run. But the guards outside were already waiting. They grabbed me by the arms, ignoring my screams and struggles, and dragged me to the chapel. The moment they forced me down onto the red mat, pain shot through my knees like fire. I bit my lip to keep from screaming, but tears poured down my face as I glared at my parents, who stood in the doorway, watching with cold indifference. Through gritted teeth, I spat, “I will never marry Cole Parker. I will never stay in this house. As long as I’m alive, I’ll leave this family—and I’ll never come back.”

Hours later, the guards dragged me back to my room, my legs too weak to carry me. That night, I heard the roar of an engine outside—someone leaving the estate in a sports car. Not long after, the door to my room creaked open. I couldn’t see clearly, but I could smell the faint, familiar perfume. Mia. “Don’t bother pretending to be asleep,” she said, her voice dripping with amusement. “I know you’re awake.” I forced my swollen eyes open, staring at her as she leaned over me, her face lit with mockery and triumph. “Why?” I croaked. “Why are you doing this to me?” She laughed, shaking her head. “Oh, Lila. Have you forgotten already? I told you—I want everything you have.” She paused, then added with a smirk, “Although, I must admit, it’s been a bit disappointing. Turns out you’re nothing but a pretty package hiding a pile of garbage. No one truly loves you, do they? Not your parents, not Cole. You’re pathetic.” Her words cut deep, but I stayed silent. “Now me?” she continued, her voice smug. “Everyone loves me. Your father, Cole—they’d do anything for me. Doesn’t that sting, Lila? Knowing you’ve already lost?” As if to drive the knife deeper, my father appeared in the doorway. He wrapped an arm around Mia’s waist, pulling her close, and the two of them walked away together, leaving me alone with my rage. I grabbed my phone with shaking hands and sent a single text to Cole. Then I waited. Minutes later, the sounds of shouting and fighting filled the house. While chaos reigned outside, I crawled out of bed, ignoring the blood dripping from my knees, and fled into the night. The road down the hill was pitch black, but for the first time in days, I felt something close to hope. When I finally collapsed, my clothes soaked in blood, headlights appeared in the distance. A car door slammed, and someone ran toward me. Before I could see who it was, I fell into their arms and lost consciousness.

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The day I was discharged from the hospital, my wife was nowhere to be seen. Just as I was reaching for my phone to call her, I saw her latest post on social media. She was wearing a breezy summer dress, smiling radiantly by the side of a yacht. Her boss stood behind her, his arms lightly wrapped around her waist, their heads tilted close, whispering as if no one else existed. Caption: “You jump, I jump.” My heart froze, but I still gave the post a like. No sooner had I tapped “like” than my phone buzzed. It was Heather. I stared at the flashing screen for what felt like an eternity before finally answering. “Feeling better today?” she asked, her voice casual. I opened my mouth, hesitating. There were so many things I wanted to ask, but I didn’t know where to start. Sensing my silence, Heather quickly added, “Don’t overthink it. That photo with Mr. Daniels was just for the company yacht promotion.” She paused briefly, and then continued, “Since you’re awake, why don’t you order some takeout? I’ve got work today and can’t come see you.” Her words stung like a knife. I reminded her softly, “Today’s the day I’m being discharged.” Heather went quiet for a long moment before sighing in exasperation. “Elliot, you should’ve told me sooner. I could’ve planned for it.” My grip tightened on the phone. “I told you three days ago.” I glanced at the discharge paper sitting on the nightstand. The nurse had personally handed it to her when she visited me. But she hadn’t even looked at it. She’d been glued to her phone then, her fingers typing furiously, her face lighting up with sweet smiles every now and then. The paper had ended up stuffed in a drawer, forgotten. I knew who she was texting—her boss. The distinctive notification chimes from her phone made it impossible not to notice. My response clearly annoyed her. “The hospital gives out so many papers. How was I supposed to know that one was your discharge notice?” “Fine,” she snapped. “I’ll come pick you up now, okay?” Before I could respond, she hung up. With my leg in a cast, I slowly packed my things with the help of a nurse. Hours ticked by as I waited for Heather on the hospital bench. Day turned to night, but she never showed up. Exhausted, I strapped my luggage onto my wheelchair and painstakingly made my way to the hospital entrance. By the time I reached the curb, my arms ached, and I was gasping for breath. When I finally got home, I opened the door to find Heather lounging on the couch, casually watching TV in her usual skimpy loungewear. Anger surged through me. “This is what you meant by coming to pick me up?”

Heather’s face turned cold. “I’ve been running around all day. I’m exhausted, okay? Couldn’t you have just stayed at the hospital for one more night?” “Besides,” she added, crossing her arms, “you made it back on your own, didn’t you?” I let out a bitter laugh. Did she think the hospital was some kind of hotel you could extend your stay at on a whim? This wasn’t the first time she’d bailed on me. Last month, she’d craved steamed crab, so I’d gone out of my way to visit a seafood market on the other side of town just to get her fresh ones. She promised to pick me up afterward, but I ended up waiting in the parking lot until ten at night. She never showed. I had no choice but to take a cab home. The moment I walked through the door, she burst in after me, crying and apologizing about some “difficult client” she had to deal with. I’d believed her then. Felt sorry for her even. But now, thinking back, I realized this pattern had long become routine. Frustrated, I raised my voice. “Heather, I let it slide every other time. But this was my discharge day! I’m in a wheelchair with a freaking cast!” Heather’s expression froze. Then, her tone softened as she hurried over to take my suitcase. “I’m sorry, okay? It won’t happen again. You must be starving. Let’s eat first.” She wheeled me over to the table. On it sat a takeout box of leftovers, the contents mixed together into an unappetizing mess. I suppressed a wave of nausea and tossed the chopsticks onto the table. That set Heather off. She jabbed a finger at the box. “Elliot, who do you think you are? This is food from The Blue Harbor Grill! Their signature dishes! If it weren’t for Mr. Daniels, do you think someone like you, with your measly salary, could even dream of eating their crab legs?” I stared at the soggy seafood casserole, littered with fish bones. My chest tightened. Sure, The Blue Harbor Grill was pricey, but I wasn’t so broke that I needed someone else’s leftovers. I wheeled myself to the kitchen and poured a glass of water. Before I could take a sip, Heather snatched it from my hands. “Elliot, stop acting like a child! I already told you—I had work to do, which is why I couldn’t pick you up!” “Work?” I couldn’t hold it in anymore. “So cuddling with Mr. Daniels on a yacht is work now?” Heather’s face flushed red with anger. “Cuddling? Are you serious? The company is investing in yacht tourism, and that was just a promotional photo shoot! Mr. Daniels was holding me to make sure I didn’t fall into the water!” She glared at me, her voice dripping with disdain. “You’re just jealous because you’re a nobody. Don’t blame others for your own failures!” Her words made me laugh bitterly. A nobody? Did she forget why I ended up in the hospital in the first place?

“Forget it,” Heather sighed, sounding exasperated. “I’m too tired to argue with you. Let me help you to bed.” I pushed her hand away, ignoring the frustration that flashed across her face. Without a word, I wheeled myself toward the stairs. At the base, I switched to my crutches and prepared to climb. Behind me, I heard a familiar ringtone—a custom one she’d set. “Zach? What’s up?””What? I’ll be right there!” Heather ended the call and rushed toward the stairs, brushing past me without a second glance. Her sudden shove sent my crutch off balance. Before I could steady myself, I tumbled down the stairs. “Zach’s not feeling well. He’s sneezing like crazy—probably caught a cold from all the wind on the water earlier. I’m taking him to the hospital!” Her voice trailed off as she hurried out the door, leaving me sprawled at the bottom of the staircase. The house fell silent, save for my ragged, pained breaths. The fresh wave of agony from my injuries was unbearable. Blood seeped through the gauze on my leg, staining the floor beneath me. I knew the wound had reopened. Pulling out my phone, I dialed for an ambulance. At the hospital, the nurse on duty looked at me with concern as she examined my injuries. “You need to be more careful. If you don’t take proper care of your leg, there’s a chance it might never fully recover. You could lose the ability to travel and take photos—your passion.” Her words hit a raw nerve. I bit my lip, feeling a bitter ache in my chest. As she replaced the blood-soaked bandages, the memory of the accident came rushing back. It had been a month ago, on a quiet evening. Heather and I had gone out for a walk after dinner, just like we always did. The road was wide and empty, newly paved and barely used. Out of nowhere, a car had lost control, barreling toward us like a missile. Instinctively, I had shoved Heather out of the way. But I hadn’t been quick enough to save myself. The car clipped me, and as I fell, my clothes got caught on the bumper. I was dragged across the asphalt for what felt like miles. The searing pain of my skin tearing against the road, the warmth of my blood pooling around me, the world going blurry until everything went dark—those sensations were still vivid, like it had happened yesterday.

After the check-up, I wheeled myself out of the exam room and spotted Zach Daniels sitting on a bench in the hallway. Heather was crouched in front of him, her face filled with worry. Her delicate hands held a water cup in one hand and pills in the other. Her ruby-red lips hovered over the steaming water, softly blowing on it to cool it down. Over and over, she blew gently, her every movement tender and intimate. I sat there, watching the scene unfold. It was picturesque, almost poetic—if only it didn’t tear at something deep inside me. Zach noticed me first. He smiled faintly and said to Heather, “Your husband really loves you. Even with a broken leg, he insisted on coming here to see you.” Heather snapped her head around at his words, catching sight of me. Annoyance flickered across her face. She stood abruptly and marched over, her expression sharp. “Elliot, are you following me? Even like this, you can’t keep your obsessive need for control in check, can you?” “You’ve been in the hospital for a whole month, and I’ve been there for you every day. What more do you want?” “I’m a person too. I have my own life. I can’t just sit around catering to you all the time!” I stared at her, momentarily stunned. I thought back to the days after the accident, when I’d first woken up. Heather had clung to me, sobbing, calling me her hero. During those weeks, she never left my side. She cooked meals for me—something she’d never done before—bringing homemade food to the hospital every day. Her care had been meticulous, unwavering. But as time passed, I started telling her to rest more, to stop overexerting herself for my sake. Apparently, my thoughtfulness had only given her license to drift further and further away. Heather continued her tirade, venting her frustrations with no regard for the people around us. I stared at her, my voice flat. “You’re mistaken. I’m not here to spy on you. I fell down the stairs and came back for a check-up.” Zach reached out, gently pulling Heather back. His voice was calm, soothing. “Let it go. He’s still recovering. Why don’t you both head home? I’ll be fine on my own.” Heather’s face softened as she turned back to him. “No way. The doctor said you need to take your medicine on time and rest properly tonight. I need to make sure you stick to that. Otherwise, you’ll just end up working until midnight again!” Zach hesitated, glancing at me. “But your husband—” Heather cut him off with a dismissive laugh. “He made it home by himself earlier, didn’t he? It’s not like he doesn’t know the way.” I chuckled darkly. “Yeah, you’re right. At some point, I’ll have to learn to navigate the road ahead on my own.” Heather looked at me, her brows furrowing. She reached out, as if to push my wheelchair. But I turned it myself, moving away from her touch. “Mr. Daniels clearly needs your care more than I do,” I said coldly. “After all, he’s got such a… serious cold.” I dragged out the last two words, letting the sarcasm hang in the air. Without waiting for their response, I wheeled myself away. I didn’t go home that night. Instead, I went to my photography studio and sat there until dawn. The quiet of the studio was comforting, a stark contrast to the chaos my life had become. As sunlight filtered through the windows, I picked up my phone and dialed a number I hadn’t called in a long time. “Professor Monroe, I’ve made my decision. I’ll take the position with National Geographic in Lathria.”

“That’s fantastic news!” Professor Monroe’s voice practically leapt through the phone. “I always said you were wasting your talent in that little studio. The editor-in-chief at National Geographic over in Marindale has been raving about your work ever since he saw your photos.” “You’ve made the right decision, Elliot. Just sit tight—I’ll get the paperwork started right away!” Photography had been my passion for as long as I could remember. Growing up, I’d spend hours wandering through parks, camera in hand, capturing every fleeting moment nature had to offer. One summer during high school, I was at the park taking pictures when Professor Monroe happened to walk by. He stood behind me, offering pointers on framing and lighting. That brief encounter marked the beginning of my connection with him. When I got into college, he became my mentor and repeatedly encouraged me to study abroad. But I couldn’t bring myself to leave. My friends and family were all here in Arborville, and the thought of starting over in a foreign country, surrounded by strangers, felt unbearably lonely. At the time, I said no. And then I met Heather. She was elegant, soft-spoken, and carried a quiet warmth that drew me in instantly. Falling for her was effortless, and before I knew it, we were inseparable. Once we started dating, the idea of leaving became impossible. I wanted to stay close to her, so I rented a small photography studio downtown and began taking freelance portrait gigs. Professor Monroe was frustrated, to say the least. He called me stubborn, said I was wasting my potential. But in the end, he couldn’t change my mind. That was five years ago. Even though I didn’t go abroad, I never stopped honing my craft. I built up an online presence, growing a modest following on social media. Heather, however, never supported my work. She’d suggest—no, insist—that I give up photography and find a “real” job. We fought about it constantly. Still, I refused to give in. Photography was the one thing I wouldn’t compromise on. Looking back now, I’m so grateful I didn’t listen to her. If I had, I wouldn’t be in a position to take this next step in my career. Lost in thought, I picked up my phone and opened my social media app. I was about to click away from the “people you may know” section when a profile picture caught my eye.

The profile picture showed a man and a woman standing on a beach, their backs to the camera. A strange feeling gripped my chest as I clicked on the account. The most recent post was a photo of a woman’s back. She was holding a bottle of medicine in one hand, while her other hand was extended behind her, as if she was leading someone forward. The caption read: “Even when you’re sick, having someone by your side makes you feel strong again.” I scrolled down further. “Some people are so easily satisfied. Take them out for a little fun, and they’re over the moon.” My breathing grew shallow. I couldn’t explain what I was feeling—anger? Sadness? Betrayal? I kept scrolling. There was a photo of a beachfront villa. In front of it, the man and woman were locked in an embrace. Her hair, usually long and smooth, was tied up in a messy bun. The account belonged to Zach Daniels. And the woman in the photo? Heather. I couldn’t stop the trembling that overtook my body. My hands shook as I scrolled further, consuming every post like I was punishing myself. Underneath each one, there was a comment from the same account: Heather’s. She told me she didn’t use social media. She said it was pointless, a waste of time. I believed her. I never even mentioned my own account to her because I thought she wasn’t interested. But now, as I clicked on her profile, a side of her I’d never seen unfolded before me. “Does this outfit work? Think the aloof boss will like it?” The photo showed a black, furry costume with cat ears. I gripped my phone tightly, trying to steady my breathing, but a coldness spread through my chest that I couldn’t shake. I wasn’t blind. I’d noticed Heather’s growing indifference toward me. Once, early in our relationship, I’d tried to surprise her with a silly joke—a playful suggestion about roleplaying. Her reaction had been scathing. “Elliot,” she had said, disgust lining every word, “what kind of person do you think I am? Can you be serious for once? You’re making me sick.” Her words had cut deep, and I’d never brought it up again. I thought she hated those kinds of things, so I did everything I could to respect her wishes. But now I realized it wasn’t the idea that had revolted her. It was me. I numbly switched between their profiles, piecing together their timeline. Post after post, photo after photo, I traced their relationship back to its beginning. Eventually, my phone died in my hands. I looked up, startled to find that night had fallen. The room was dark, save for the faint glow of the city lights outside the window.

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To protect his illegitimate child, Lucas pushed me down the stairs when I was in late pregnancy. He left me bleeding profusely and rushed to the hospital with that illegitimate child. It wasn’t until I was sent to the operating table that I learned the truth. He forced me to give birth to this child, just to save the life of his and Amber’s illegitimate child. Poof— A mouthful of fresh blood gushed from my mouth, staining Amber’s face. Before losing consciousness, all I could hear was Amber’s panicked screams. And those words mercilessly revealing the truth about why Lucas made me pregnant and give birth. When I woke up again, I was in the operating room of the hospital. The lights above me swayed back and forth, stinging my eyes. My limbs felt like they were being gnawed by ants. I could constantly hear the doctors discussing around me. Intermittently, not very clearly. The gist was that I might die on this operating table due to excessive blood loss. And the child in my belly would never have a chance to be born into this world. Tears flowed uncontrollably from my eyes. I wanted so badly to grab the doctor’s hand and beg him to save me, to save my child. But I had no strength. I could only let them cut open my belly and take out the baby that was originally nurtured there. Then my body was like a rag doll, being turned over and stitched up by the doctors. Until finally I heard a “beep”, and the doctors stopped their actions. And my consciousness began to gradually leave my body. Looking at the tiny body placed beside the operating table, my heart felt like it was being pricked by needles. After all, he was once expected to be born. The doctors kept calling Lucas’s phone again and again, but couldn’t get through. And I just watched numbly, unable to stir up any ripples in my heart. I don’t know how long it took, but finally someone came to deal with my and the baby’s bodies. It wasn’t my legal husband, the father of the child, Lucas. But Amber, with tears in her eyes but a smile on her lips— My own elder sister. She took away my baby with the organ donation consent form signed by Lucas. As for me, she only left a sentence “Contact the crematorium to cremate as soon as possible, to avoid the family’s grief” before leaving without looking back.

Watching Amber take away my baby, I hurriedly followed. Thinking of that organ donation consent form, I rushed in front of her like a madwoman. What was she going to do with my child? What was she going to do to my child! I hysterically tried to take back my child, but I could only pass through Amber’s body, touching nothing but emptiness. She came to Lucas’s side, and right in front of him, directly handed the child to the doctors in the operating room. Throughout this process, Lucas didn’t even raise his head. The lights in the operating room lit up again, and I rushed towards it with a heavy heart. But the scene inside made my eyes bulge with anger. My baby was again placed on the cold operating table. Those people were cutting open his chest, but not to save him. They mercilessly cut open his chest to take out that tiny heart, and then carefully placed it on the illegitimate child next to him. The scene before my eyes was like being doused with a bucket of cold water and thrown out in the bitter cold of winter. My whole body trembled. A murderer, a third party, an illegitimate child! How dare they transplant my child’s heart! How dare they! “Stop! You bunch of devils!” “Don’t treat my child like this! Stop it…” I screamed, I roared. I was so angry I wanted to destroy everything here. But I was powerless. I could only watch helplessly as they took the heart and then harvested all the usable organs from my baby. In the end, that poor child was thrown in the corner like a broken doll. No one cared anymore. It wasn’t until someone congratulated Lucas saying the young master’s surgery was successful that I pulled away from my angry and sorrowful emotions. I suddenly rushed in front of Lucas, punching and kicking him, wishing I could tear off his skin with my own hands. Both of them inside were his children. But why treat my baby like this? Why let him leave with such a mutilated body? Is it because he hates me? But the one who has the least right to hate me is him, Lucas. We’ve known each other for over twenty years, I saved him from dire straits, and in the end, I met with such a tragic death! I really hate him so much!

For some reason, after that day, I could no longer leave Lucas’s side. I could only float within his range of activity. Perhaps my hatred was too intense, Lucas would occasionally unconsciously turn his head to look in my direction. “Was that child properly buried?” “Don’t worry, Huai. I’ve already found a place with excellent feng shui, and even invited a master to perform rites. It’s enough to do right by him for coming here.” After saying this, Amber gently leaned on Lucas’s shoulder and cried mournfully: “It’s just a pity for my Henry, who has been fighting with illness for so many years. Now he’s finally overcome his suffering.” “Huai, we’ll be happy as a family of three from now on, right?” This time, Lucas rarely didn’t go along with Amber, and spoke on his own: “After all, we owe that child. In the future, on holidays, you should burn more paper money for him.” A flash of impatience crossed Amber’s eyes, but she still pretended to comply. “Alright, I’ll do as you say.” Lucas responded, then asked: “How is… Zoe? She didn’t make a fuss this time?” Amber’s face went blank for a moment, then she quickly said: “You know Youyou’s temperament. So after she woke up, no one dared to tell her about the child.” Observing Lucas’s expression, Amber tentatively said: “She did shout about wanting a divorce a few times after waking up. But Henry’s condition wasn’t good at the time, so I forgot to tell you.” Sure enough, hearing Amber’s words, Lucas’s face, which had shown some guilt, once again showed anger. “Why does she think she can force me to marry her when she wants, and I have to obediently listen to her arrangements when she wants a divorce?” He picked up his phone, ignoring Amber’s attempts to stop him, and strode out of the ward. I was forced to follow him once again to the place where I had died tragically. Watching Lucas stumble around the obstetrics department like a headless fly. He kept grabbing doctors and nurses in the corridor asking: “Which ward is Zoe in?” Everyone looked at him with confusion, as if looking at a mental patient, saying there was no patient called Zoe here. Lucas felt uncomfortable being looked at like this, and turned to leave with a frustrated face. Watching Lucas’s back as he left without hesitation, one of the young nurses who had been stopped suddenly slapped her forehead, finally remembering where she had heard the name “Zoe”. She angrily called out to Lucas’s back: “Pah! What a scumbag! His wife died from massive bleeding, two lives lost, and he only comes to the hospital to look for her after the seventh day of mourning. What kind of person is he!” Hearing the young nurse’s words, Lucas suddenly turned back. His eyes were as sharp as swords, shooting towards the nurse who had spoken: “What did you say? Say again who died?” The young nurse, seeing Lucas’s fierce look, was frightened. But she still stood up, trembling as she said: “It’s that Zoe, she died from difficult labor that night. Her husband couldn’t be contacted, in the end it was her sister who contacted the crematorium, and she was directly cremated.” “They didn’t even notify anyone else to see her one last time.”

Lucas’s expression stiffened for a moment, but quickly returned to normal. He called Amber to inquire. “Maybe Youyou found out about the child, couldn’t accept it for a while, and is still angry with you. That’s why she got the young nurse to act with her to fool you.” “If Youyou really died, how could you, as her husband, not know?” Lucas hung up the phone and returned to Henry’s ward, filled with anger. Just as he was about to speak to Amber, the phone in his pocket rang. Seeing the words “Wife” flashing on the phone, he sneered coldly. While feeling relieved, his anger surged. “You love playing dead? Then go die for real!” Then he violently smashed the phone against the wall, shattering it to pieces. “Wah… Dad is so scary… wuwu…” “Huai! Henry is still sick, why do you have to make such a big fuss about something!” Amber, under the guise of comforting and holding Henry, took the opportunity to slip the phone hidden behind her back under the mattress. Lucas, seeing Henry crying with a red face, and Amber haggard from taking care of the child, was immediately overwhelmed with guilt, replacing his anger towards me. He stepped forward to take Henry, gently coaxing him. Only when the little one in his arms fell asleep did he gently place him back on the bed. Looking down at Henry’s sleeping face, Lucas lightly kissed his forehead. Then he slowly said to Amber: “Every time I see Henry, I think of that child. I don’t even dare to look at him. Even though I once looked forward to his birth.” “Although Zoe is willful and ignorant, that child was innocent.” “Huai, I know you feel guilty about her and that child, but it’s not your fault!” “You were just trying to save one of the two children as best you could.” Amber slowly wrapped her arms around Lucas’s waist, burying her face in his chest. “I know you have feelings for Youyou. I won’t force you to divorce.” “But in the current situation, it’s really not appropriate to let her know the truth, and Henry needs you now…” “Huai, let me be selfish just this once. Before Henry is discharged, don’t go back to find her, okay? Just take pity on us, mother and son.” “After Henry is discharged, if Youyou doesn’t like it, we’ll leave and never see you again.” Lucas’s arms around Amber suddenly tightened, and he lowered his head to urgently kiss Amber. He blocked the words of leaving from her mouth.

I floated above them, laughing at Amber’s fabricated words. If she really wanted to leave and let me be with Lucas, she wouldn’t have appeared in front of me with her illegitimate child when I was in late pregnancy. The scene before me was really disgusting. Before I could turn to leave, Amber’s phone rang. I looked at the flashing “Mom” on the screen, and couldn’t help but feel a twinge in my nose. I wonder how mom is doing. We had promised to visit her together with Lucas, but I had broken that promise forever. The sudden ringtone interrupted their intimacy. Although Amber was impatient, she still answered the phone gently: “Mom, what’s wrong? Huai? He’s here…” Lucas took the phone, sounding much more respectful. “Mom…” “Lucas, are you really not coming to see Youyou off?” “Mom, Henry just had surgery, Chen Chen can’t take care of him alone, I can’t leave. Since Youyou is already with you, I’m relieved…” “Moreover… moreover, Chen Chen and Henry are also your daughter and grandson, you shouldn’t be partial…” Hearing Lucas say this, mom’s voice suddenly became hysterical: “Lucas! Are you still human? Today is the seventh day after her death, even if you don’t come to see Youyou, what about the child? He’s your flesh and blood too…” Lucas’s hand gripping the phone suddenly tightened, his voice hoarse as he opened his mouth: “Mom, I…” “Don’t call me mom!” Mom’s sharp crying came through the receiver. “The thing I regret most in my life is listening to Youyou back then and adopting you! Causing my Youyou to die, two lives lost…” “Since you won’t come, then don’t come anymore in the future.” “From now on, you have nothing to do with Youyou anymore. I won’t even carve your name on her and the child’s tombstone.” Mom hung up the phone after saying this. Lucas stood there motionless, holding the disconnected phone, while I was anxious. I wished I could fly to mom’s side and comfort her. I didn’t know how mom, who was staying well in the nursing home, found out about my death. But I guess it had something to do with Amber. Hearing mom’s desperate voice, my heart hurt more than being dismembered. Seeing Lucas still standing there motionless, I angrily punched and kicked him. I wished I could drag him to see my mom. “What’s wrong, Huai? Did something happen to mom?” It wasn’t until Amber spoke that Lucas suddenly came back to his senses. “Mom said… Zoe is dead.” “What nonsense are they talking about! How could that troublemaker Zoe possibly be dead?” Lucas suddenly rushed out of the ward, slamming the door so hard it shook. He didn’t consider Henry who had just had heart surgery at all. I floated beside him, constantly praying, hurry up, walk faster! Don’t let Amber call him back again! But just as Lucas’s figure was about to disappear, Amber’s heart-wrenching cry came from behind: “Henry!”

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After falling into a coma, I heard my wife constantly talking about sleeping next to me in the hospital to conceive my child. But on the day I regained consciousness, I overheard her bringing a man back to my room. They were making out on the bed next to mine, their heavy breathing, rustling clothes, and whispered conversations filling the air. “Damn, you dare to get intimate with me right in front of your comatose husband?” the man said. With a click, I glimpsed my wife’s nimble hands unbuckling the man’s belt. “He’s just a vegetable. He can’t feel anything. Don’t you find this more exciting?” she replied. I lay motionless on the hospital bed, my mind blank with shock. Because I recognized the man’s voice. It was my brother, Adam Wilson. The sound of running water came from nearby. After what seemed like an eternity, the commotion beside me finally stopped. Adam got up from the bed, his voice tinged with smug satisfaction. “When are you planning to divorce my disabled brother?” Disabled? My parents had passed away, and I had no siblings. Adam was an orphan I had found in foster care. If it weren’t for me, he might have starved to death on the streets. I had raised him as my own, changing his diapers and feeding him. And this is how he repays me? By calling me disabled? I felt a gaze flicker in my direction. My hand, hidden under the blanket, clutched the sheets tightly. It took all my willpower not to tremble. “He’s just a coma patient. Who knows, maybe one day they’ll pull the plug, and he’ll be gone,” my wife, Lily, said coldly. “For now, I haven’t conceived yet. Once I have a baby, we can kick him to the curb.” I felt nauseous, my whole body shaking with disgust. There were several moments when I wanted nothing more than to sit up and strangle them both. But I knew my body, weakened after three months in a coma, wouldn’t allow such a move. Adam’s tone turned flirtatious. “A woman’s heart is the most poisonous of all. If you can do this to my brother today, won’t you do the same to me in the future?” Lily’s voice dripped with honey: “You’re different from your brother. He’s older than you, and in a few years, he’ll start smelling like an old man. You’re young. I could never outlast you. Who knows, maybe in a couple of years, you’ll be the one dumping me?” As they talked, they began to get entangled again. After a while, Lily, feeling it wasn’t exciting enough, suggested they continue at a hot spring hotel. When I heard the hospital room door close, the last thread of control in my mind snapped. How on earth did Lily and Adam end up together? Back then, Adam had failed his SATs and refused to study abroad despite my urging. He insisted on staying in the country. Thinking his job prospects would be limited with his low education, I had arranged for him to work as Lily’s driver, just to help him out. Even when friends had mentioned seeing Lily entering hotels with a man, I had never once suspected him. But now it seems they had been hooking up for a long time. That night, Lily didn’t return, and I lay awake the entire night. It wasn’t until dawn that I finally drifted off into a troubled sleep. The next day, I woke up with a deathly pale face. The nurse beside me was startled when she saw me open my eyes. Soon after, a group of doctors and nurses flooded into the room. I cooperated with the doctors’ examinations, and they were all amazed at how quickly I had regained consciousness. Back in the room, I overheard nurses gossiping. “His wife comes every few days, always talking about wanting to conceive his child.” “Oh, I know. Last night during my shift, I even heard water noises from the room.” “No wonder. Maybe he woke up because of his wife’s efforts.” I listened intently, my eyes filled with icy contempt. After the examination, the nurse raised my bed so I could get some sunlight. I figured Lily must be crawling out of Adam’s bed by now. If she found out I was awake, her face would probably hit the floor. Around noon, Lily appeared. “Honey, you’re finally awake!” she exclaimed. She made a move to throw herself into my arms, but I slightly turned my body towards the window. She missed her mark. I lay in bed, silently watching her. “Where have you been?” I asked. Lily’s expression froze for a moment before quickly returning to normal. She held up a thermos flask and pressed the call button for the nurse. “I’ve been by your side the whole time. As soon as I heard you were awake, I rushed home to make your favorite pork rib soup.” She tried to touch my hand, but I avoided her. Lily’s hand paused, and her eyes showed a hint of impatience. “What’s wrong with you this early in the morning? I went home to make soup for you, and now I’m the bad guy?” She slammed the thermos onto the bedside table. I bit my lip, unable to speak, afraid that if I opened my mouth, my emotions would completely collapse.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. It was my brother, Adam. He greeted me with a grin. “Bro, I heard you woke up. I came to see how you’re recovering.” There was a hint of challenge in his words. “You wish I was dead, don’t you?” I coldly looked at him. Adam was caught off guard by my attitude and froze for a moment. Lily stepped in front of him. “What’s wrong with you today? Are you too tired? Get some more rest,” she said, almost ordering me as she forcefully pressed the button to lower my hospital bed. “Nurse, my husband’s emotions are unstable. Can someone come and check on him?” she called out. “Sis, my brother is so fierce,” Adam whined to Lily. Lily’s voice softened. “Don’t bother with a coma patient…” The two of them started speaking intimately in front of me without any restraint. My fingers dug into my flesh as I struggled to suppress my surging emotions. Lily didn’t even glance back at me as she left the room with Adam. I could no longer contain myself. I screamed frantically, sweeping all the glass cups off the bedside table onto the floor. Lying in bed, looking at the mess around me, I completely broke down. The wife who had once vowed to spend her life with me, and the brother I had raised from childhood, were now fooling me like I was an idiot. How absurd. How laughable. I had ended up in this coma because I was trying to save Lily from a fire. When we first met, we were both just working-class people. During our toughest times, we couldn’t even afford rent. Lily had swallowed her pride and borrowed money from her parents for my sake. After paying the rent, she had hugged me and cried in our tiny 100-square-foot apartment. Looking out at the office buildings, I had vowed to start my own business from scratch and give her a good life. Six months later, I opened a small company. In winter, no matter how cold it was, Lily would crawl out of our warm bed to cook for me when I returned home late from overtime work. That night, I was out meeting a client when it started drizzling. Lily came to bring me an umbrella, but a fire suddenly broke out in the mall, trapping her in the elevator. After rescuing the customers from the fire, I rushed back in to give her my wet coat. In the midst of the flames, as I watched her escape, my only thought was, “Thank God Lily is safe.” When the firefighters arrived, I was trapped in a collapsed triangle area. As I was carried out on a stretcher, Lily ran towards me. Her face was filled with panic. My vision was blurry, but I could feel her hot tears falling on the back of my hand. As I was loaded into the ambulance, I lost all sensation. The doctor told Lily that I had narrowly escaped death but had fallen into a coma. After I woke up, I heard from the nurses that Lily had been wracked with guilt when she learned of my condition. She had knelt by my hospital bed and sworn on my deceased parents’ will that she would take care of me for the rest of her life. It had only been three months since then. The memories of our shared hardships now felt like swallowing razor blades. I had been lying in the hospital bed for exactly half a month. During this half month, apart from the day I woke up, neither Lily nor Adam had come to see me. I calmly sat up and packed my things. In my pocket was the divorce agreement I had drafted the night before. The doctor helped me do a final check on my bodily functions. He told me that my nervous system would soon fully recover. The nurse was very gentle, assuring me that as long as I persevered with treatment, I would definitely get better. I looked at myself in the mirror, my face as pale as a ghost. I let out a bitter laugh and walked out with my discharge papers. As luck would have it, just as I left the inpatient department, I ran into Lily. And the person supporting her was none other than my brother, Adam. I followed them, watching as they entered the obstetrics and gynecology department. Seeing me, Lily’s gentle smile instantly froze on her face. “Honey, how are you able to walk around?” she asked, her voice tinged with nervousness. She even called Adam to get me a wheelchair. I looked at her coldly. “So you still remember I’m your husband.” I shifted my gaze to her abdomen. Lily took a wary step back. Adam immediately stepped in front of her, his hand casually stroking her belly behind his back. “Bro, with your condition, you should be resting in bed! Don’t wander around!” he said, his words clearly challenging. I ignored his provocation and directly pointed at the obstetrics and gynecology sign, asking Lily, “What are you doing here?” Lily’s eyes flashed with guilt as she said softly, “I’m feeling a bit unwell. I might be pregnant. Your brother is accompanying me for a check-up.” “Pregnant? Whose child? My brother’s?” I couldn’t help but let out a cold laugh. They were really trying to fool me like an idiot. Lily suddenly started playing the victim. “Jack Wilson! You bastard! I’m carrying your child!!!” I laughed. “For the past three months, I’ve been in a coma, unconscious. I didn’t know you had a fetish for sleeping with dead people?” I tried to walk past her, but Lily grabbed my hand.

“You’re not well. Let me take you back to your room,” she said. My voice was indifferent as I looked at her and Adam. “Why don’t you go check if you’re pregnant first?” Lily was taken aback. I rarely acted so cold. Three months ago, I had risked my life to save her from the fire. Perhaps it was precisely because of this that she had become bold enough to bring her lover to my bedside for the thrill of it. “What’s wrong with you? Is it because I haven’t visited you for the past two weeks?” she asked. “I explained to you, I wasn’t feeling well, that’s why I couldn’t come see you.” Her expression was irritated, her tone noticeably colder. I looked at her with utter indifference. “You two are a perfect pair, and you’re blaming me for making a fuss?” I don’t know which words hit a nerve, but Lily’s face darkened completely. “Jack Wilson, that’s enough! He’s your own brother. How can you be so suspicious of us?” “From the moment you saw me, every word you’ve said has been full of thorns. I think you’re the one who wants to replace me!” What a case of the pot calling the kettle black. My nails dug into my palms as I struggled to stay calm. At this moment, the situation was so absurd that even I found it laughable. My brother had become my wife’s lover. And yet, I was the one being accused of cheating. It was a complete reversal of roles. Adam raised his eyebrows, his gaze mocking, but his words were full of fake sincerity. “Bro, you’ve got it all wrong. How could I ever do anything to betray you?” Suppressing the rising nausea, I stared at him with a smile. “If you’re not an ungrateful white-eyed wolf, then that’s for the best.” My brother’s face changed, and he angrily stepped forward, but Lily held him back. She looked at me with irritation. “I’ll take you back to your room.” She turned back to look at my brother, her tone gentle. “Wait for me here, I’ll be back soon.” I shook off Lily’s hand. “How long are you two going to flirt in front of me?” “Haha, don’t bother. I won’t interrupt your intimate moment.” They both froze. Lily looked at me in disbelief. “Jack Wilson, have you gone mad?” Her voice trembled slightly. I looked at her. “I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you.” “Two weeks ago, when you two were having your passionate encounter in the hospital room.” “Actually, I woke up that night.” Lily’s eyes were now filled with panic. “Honey, you’ve misunderstood,” she said. I smiled at her. “It’s a shame your name isn’t in the textbooks at the Academy of Dramatic Arts.” “After I fell into a coma, you kept talking about wanting to conceive my child.” “I see you’ve succeeded in conceiving, but it’s not mine, is it?” Lily staggered back two steps. The color visibly drained from her face. “Honey, I’m feeling dizzy…” She reached out, wanting me to support her. I stepped back in disgust, throwing my discharge papers in her face. “Forgot to tell you, I’m being discharged today. I’ve recovered.” I pointed at her belly and laughed. “Now, aren’t you wondering what to do with that bastard child in your womb?” Lily’s eyes trembled, and she suddenly looked up.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “295465”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #惊悚Thriller #魔幻Magic #校园School #励志Inspiring #重生Reborn