After my son went off to college, I gave him $2,000 a month for living expenses. Once he started dating, he’d always come to me, complaining, “Mom, how can I date with so little money? If you want a grandson, you better send me another $2,000!” To support his extravagant university lifestyle, I downloaded every loan app available and took out loans in his name. I did all this because I had sacrificed so much for him in the past. After graduating, he refused to get a job, insisting he needed to tackle life’s big milestones, like marriage and having kids. My husband and I reluctantly made the down payment when housing prices were at their highest. But when he couldn’t keep up with the mortgage payments, he turned violent towards me and his father, accusing us, “If you hadn’t bought me such an expensive house, would I be feeling this much pressure?” “I can’t repay it. You go earn money to pay it back for me, or I’ll hand this house back to you!” I was forced to work three jobs daily and eventually collapsed from exhaustion at work. This time, I made sure to damage his credit report first. Let’s see how he plans to secure a loan for another house now.

“Mom, I’m out of money this month. Could you send some more?” “Send a thousand, no, make it two thousand. The cafeteria food is awful and has given me diarrhea for three days. Eating out is expensive, but at least it doesn’t make me sick.” It’s only the 10th, and my son is already calling again. He’s a sophomore this year. Initially, his living expenses were $2,000, but in less than a year, he complained it wasn’t enough. It went up to $3,000, and even that barely lasts ten days now. In the past, I would have lectured him for ten minutes about saving money, reminding him how hard we work to earn it. But this time, I didn’t say anything. I calmly replied, “Okay, hold on. I’ll go get some cash for you.” I went to the app store, downloaded over ten loan apps, entered his ID, and borrowed $5,000. I sent him $2,000. He didn’t say a word, just a cold transaction on the screen. I took out a journal and noted the first loan for today. All of this because, in a previous life, I worked hard to put him through university. He insisted on getting married and brought home a pregnant Emily. The first thing he said was, “We need $30,000 for the bride price and a $200,000 house.” We didn’t have that kind of money, but seeing the young girl’s tearful face and my son’s pleading, I softened. We borrowed from every relative, scraping together $120,000—$30,000 for the bride price, the rest for the house’s down payment. My son was deeply moved. “Thank you, Mom and Dad. I’ll be a good son to you for life. You can relax at home and enjoy your grandchildren.” We couldn’t relax. We hustled to repay the relatives. Just as we thought we could catch a breath, my son came crying again. “Mom, help me. The mortgage is too much. I have a family to support. I just can’t keep up.” “Would you really let your son, grandson, and daughter-in-law be homeless?” “You and Dad work hard for a few more years, and once prices go up and salaries increase, the pressure will ease.” So, my husband and I went out again, financially supporting their little family. But after two years, not only did his salary not increase, but housing prices dropped, and the job market tightened. Someone in his neighborhood sold a similar house for $80,000. Worried about their pressure, I suggested selling our big house and moving to a smaller one. The difference could help pay his mortgage. But that led to him lashing out at us. “If you hadn’t bought such an expensive house for me, I wouldn’t be under this much pressure!” “I can’t pay it back. You go earn the money to pay it off, or I’ll just give the house back to you!” I took on another job. While washing dishes, I blacked out and collapsed.

As I watched my body fall, a colleague found me, and the boss immediately called an ambulance. But I knew I was dead. I saw my husband’s hair turn completely white overnight. He held my photo every day, not cooking or going to work, no matter how much our son berated him, he wouldn’t leave the house. Our son was busy. He dragged my body to the boss’s shop and left it there for two days. When the boss didn’t give in, he put up banners and made a ruckus every day. I watched as my son took the $50,000 the boss scraped together and left happily. He used it to eat and drink with his wife and son. No one cared that my body was still on the street. A young man finally informed my husband to retrieve me. After cremating and laying me to rest, my husband bashed his head against my tombstone and died. I woke up again, back to my son’s sophomore year. He had just secretly started dating a girl, doubling his living expenses. But at this point, our family still had some savings, and my husband and I hadn’t retired. We lived frugally, and things were manageable. I wasn’t that cruel. I just wanted to ruin his credit score so he couldn’t take out loans for a house. After he graduates, I won’t care about his life or death. After my son graduated, I put the house up for sale online. But three months before graduation, he brought Emily home. Emily, with a slightly bulging belly, timidly looked at me. “Hello, Auntie~” My son entered with a large bag of baby supplies. “Mom, Dad, this is Emily, your daughter-in-law.” “Hurry, call her Mom. This is your Dad. Don’t worry, my parents are really nice people.” Just as she was about to speak, I stopped her. “No, you haven’t even married yet. If word gets out, people will say we don’t have manners and bully young girls.” “Girl, sit down. I’ll get you some fruit.” At the dining table, I saw Emily repeatedly giving my son glances and occasionally making retching noises. I pretended not to notice, but eventually, my son couldn’t hold back. “Mom, I came back this time to get married. Emily is already carrying your grandson.” I rolled my eyes. In my past life, that grandson never called me Grandma. Whenever he saw me, it was like seeing trash—not a kick or spit. I thought he was just a kid, and I was too busy earning money to take him out to play like other grandmas, so I didn’t mind. Now that I think about it, this Emily, who gave such a great first impression, might not be as simple as I thought. “You’ve always taught me to be responsible as a man. You see if you can quickly contact Emily’s parents and set a date.” Yes, I taught him to be good to his wife and kids, and he did that. But I also taught him to be filial, yet he wouldn’t even take care of my corpse. “When are you and Dad available? I’ll talk to Emily’s parents.” “I’m free anytime. You decide and let us know.”

Emily got anxious but was too embarrassed to speak up, tugging at Michael Green’s sleeve. Michael Green looked at me, and I sipped my tea. “Mom, about the bride price, Emily said it’s quite high where she’s from.” I said, “Oh~” “If it weren’t for Emily being pregnant, I wouldn’t rely on you for everything.” “Don’t worry. Consider it a loan from you. I’ll repay it once I start working and earning.” I sighed. “Oh, Michael, let me be honest. Your university expenses were high these years, and we have no savings left.” He immediately changed his expression. “How much could I possibly spend each month? Are you just making excuses not to give?” “What kind of parents don’t prepare a house and car for their son, only caring about themselves?” “If I can’t marry, don’t expect me to support you in retirement.” “Go live in a dump!” I chuckled inside. This is my good son. If his parents don’t serve him as slaves, he shows his true colors. My husband couldn’t stand it and was about to speak, but I held his hand. “Son, it’s not that we’re not helping. We originally saved $50,000 for you.” “But look at how much you’ve spent over these years in university. Your monthly expenses are around $20,000. From sophomore year, for three years straight.” “And once, you said you broke your leg and needed surgery, so I transferred $5,000 to you. In total, it’s $52,000.” “Your marriage fund was spent by you. Where can we find money for the bride price now?” He was speechless, his face red. “If you don’t want to give, don’t. Why make so many excuses? How could I possibly spend over $50,000 in college?” “I’ve never seen parents like you. Since you don’t care, my son won’t acknowledge you. My son doesn’t have stingy grandparents. You don’t deserve it!” “Emily, let’s go! I can support you on my own!” “You both can keep your measly money to yourselves!” He slammed the door and left. Only Emily, looking pitiful, glanced back at me every few steps. After my son left, my husband was a bit upset with me. “Honey, don’t we still have savings? Why are you doing this to our son?” “Besides, nowadays, having a son means preparing a house and bride price for him.” “I’ve never met parents like you. Since you don’t care, my son won’t recognize you anymore. He won’t have stingy grandparents like you! You don’t deserve it!” “Lila, let’s go! I can take care of you myself!” “You two just hold onto your money and live your own lives!” With that, I slammed the door and left. Lila kept turning back to look at me, looking pitiful with every step she took. After our son left, my husband expressed his frustration. “Dear, we still have savings. Why are you making things hard for our son?” “Besides, it’s normal now for parents to prepare a house and wedding money for their sons.” “Look at what’s happened. He doesn’t want anything to do with us, and we won’t get to see our grandchild. When we’re old and sick, who will look after us?” I looked at my soft-hearted husband and asked, “Do you really think we can rely on a son like this for our care?” He didn’t have a reply, and after a while, he sighed. “Forget it. It’s fine with just the two of us. At least we won’t have so many worries.” 0

Isn’t it just a mess? In my previous life, he didn’t even claim my body, treating me only as a tool to extort money. We raised him for over twenty years, and he was less helpful than a dog. Just to be safe, I transferred most of the money to a card that neither my son nor my husband knew about. On the street, I saw a young man selling balloons in the cold wind. I was taken aback. It was the same young man from my past life who took care of my body after I died. Spring had just started, but it was still cold. He was wearing a thin black jacket. His face and nose were red from the cold. Since I wandered for a long time after my death in the last life, I know he has no parents. He only has an elderly grandmother at home, who is often sick and frail. So, he has to use all his time working. I took some free time, found his school, contacted his tutor, and quietly supported him. His name is Ethan, and he is currently a sophomore. He excels in his studies, receives a scholarship every year, and his tuition is waived. But because of his grandmother’s health, life is still challenging. I knew James wouldn’t let this go. After all, he hasn’t even graduated yet, so how could he support a wife and child? But I didn’t expect him to change so quickly. Within a week, he invited us to dinner at a hotel on Sunday night. I refused, but my husband is soft-hearted since we raised him ourselves. Parents can’t ignore their children’s major life events. I couldn’t convince him otherwise, so I had to go and let him see our son’s true nature. As soon as we entered, there was a strong smell of cigarette smoke. A young man, about twenty years old, with slicked-back hair. His feet were on the table, holding a cigarette. A heavily made-up middle-aged woman saw me but said nothing to me. Instead, she spoke to the boy. “Sit up; someone’s here.” After a while, our son came in. A woman’s voice rang out. “Let’s be clear, our family wants a $30,000 bride price, not a penny less.” “After all, we didn’t raise our daughter for free. Thirty thousand is not much.” “She’s carrying your family’s grandson now.” “And you can’t skimp on a house. My daughter won’t live with her in-laws! You need to prepare a big house, at least a hundred square meters.” “Otherwise, we won’t be able to stay when we visit her.” “Just write their names on it. If you agree, pay the bride price first, then we can discuss the wedding date.”

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Twenty-five years ago, the nanny secretly swapped me with her daughter, but my six-year-old brother discovered the trick and quietly swapped us back. Now, 25 years later, the nanny showed up at my door with her daughter, claiming I was the fake heir of Wales Group. Even the janitor at the company started whispering behind my back, criticizing my lipstick as cheap. My boyfriend, Collin Ross, even joined in to humiliate me. “You really thought you were the Wales family’s daughter? You’re not even worth a single strand of Erika’s hair!” After the paternity test results came out, everyone was stunned. Collin begged me, “Jessie, I was manipulated by that bitch! Please forgive me. Give me another chance.” I shot him a cold glance. “What kind of chance? You mean the chance to clean the toilet?” Just as I entered the company restroom, I ran into the new janitor, Erika Waston. Her gaze lingered on my lipstick. In a mocking tone, she said, “Ms. Wales, I didn’t expect someone of your status would use such cheap products. This lipstick is only 19.9 dollars for three with a gift box!” I didn’t believe her words. The lipstick was a special gift from Collin, personally selected by him through a luxury personal shopper. He said it cost 2,000 dollars for three. Seeing my face fall, Erika seemed to realize her mistake and hurriedly left. As I stepped out of the restroom, I saw Yolanda Hall standing at the baby care room door, looking furious. It was rare to see her so angry, so I gently asked her what happened, and she immediately vented her frustration. “I went to change a diaper in the room, and who would’ve thought I’d find a used condom on the changing table! Who’s that shameless? Doing that kind of thing in the baby care room! I’m so pissed off! I don’t even know if there’s some dirty disease involved!” As the VP of the company, my anger surged. I immediately called the security office to review the surveillance footage and find out what happened. After giving those instructions, I headed to Collin’s office to complain this to him. When I walked in, I saw Erika, now wearing a slightly transparent deep V-neck shirt, mopping the floor. Her cleavage was practically spilling out. Collin glanced up at me, his face turning pale as he wiped away some nosebleeds. “The weather’s been dry lately. You need to drink more water, Jessica. I didn’t hear you knock because I was busy working.” I didn’t question him. After all, we’d been together for eight years since college. “Did you forget it? I never knock when I come in here,” I replied. Collin visibly tensed up, and I was about to ask what was going on when Erika interrupted. She shot a sly remark. “Ms. Wales, when you buy cosmetics, you should really go to a counter. Don’t buy those cheap things online. After all, you’re putting it on your face; you can’t afford to skimp.” I froze for a second, realizing she was talking about my lipstick. That lipstick was a Valentine’s gift from Collin, not some cheap knockoff. I was about to clarify with Collin, but before I could speak, he quickly said, “Jessica, that proposal you mentioned earlier was good, but I think it still needs some adjustments.” His words distracted me, but I couldn’t find my pen. Erika, eager to help, volunteered to grab one for me. As she reached for it, she tripped and fell straight into Collin’s arms. Her tight deep-V shirt couldn’t contain the fall, and her buttons popped open, revealing a stunning view. Collin, flustered, tried to help her rebutton, but the more nervous he became, the harder it was to fix. Erika, equally flustered, struggled to fasten her shirt, but instead, she ended up gasping for breath.

I watched the awkward scene between the two of them and cleared my throat. Collin suddenly snapped back to reality and pushed Erika away. “Jessica, I was just trying to help her with her buttons. It wasn’t intentional,” he stammered. Before he could say more, I interrupted him. “Enough. Go get me a coffee.” I’d known Collin long enough to understand his character. I suspected Erika, the scheming woman, was behind this, and since we were alone, I’d finally get some answers. To my surprise, Erika got up and walked out ahead of Collin. “Ms. Wales, let me get it for you.” She returned quickly with a cup of coffee. I didn’t even need to look to know it was instant coffee, while I only drank freshly brewed. I frowned and didn’t touch the cup. Erika’s voice quivered as she said, “Ms. Wales, you don’t like the coffee I made? I washed my hands really well before making it.” Collin, who usually indulged me, chimed in, “Jessica, don’t be so hard on Erika. She’s never made coffee before, and she doesn’t know how to grind it. Just drink a little, for her sake.” Still, I didn’t respond, and Erika began apologizing, her voice filled with emotion. “I’m so sorry, Ms. Wales. I come from a poor family. I’ve never had enough to eat or warm clothes, and my mom was always beating or scolding me. I’ve never had anything as nice as coffee. Please don’t laugh at me.” I was stunned by her sudden emotional outburst, and though I didn’t understand, it seemed to have an effect on Collin. His tone grew sharp as he said, “Jessica, I didn’t expect you to be so heartless. It’s just a cup of coffee. Why make a fuss over it and make things difficult for a young girl? You’re a VP now. Don’t make things harder for your subordinates!” Without another word, he grabbed the coffee and drank it all in one gulp. I couldn’t believe his reaction. But what shocked me more was Erika’s: she lunged forward, snatched the cup from Collin, and shouted, “Mr. Ross, don’t drink it! Please don’t!” Collin and I both stared at her in confusion. Her eyes darted around, obviously guilty. I immediately checked the surveillance footage. As I suspected, Erika had used toilet water to make the coffee. Fuming, I demanded, “Why did you do this? You better explain yourself, now!” I was about to call the police when Collin snatched my phone away. “Jessica, Erika’s young and ignorant. You don’t need to make a big deal out of this. You didn’t drink the coffee, and I’ve already had some without saying anything. Let’s just let it go.” Collin’s response only made my anger grow. “Why should I let it go? She looks older than my mother, and you’re saying she’s ignorant? She wanted me to drink it, but you drank it by mistake. If she’s willing to use toilet water to make coffee today, who’s to say she won’t poison me tomorrow? Why shouldn’t I call the police?” Realizing I was serious about calling the police, Collin tried to slam my phone down, but I snatched it back just in time. Before I could do anything else, Erika suddenly shoved Collin away and screamed at me, “You fake woman! Why are you stealing my place and my man?” Before I could process her words, my phone buzzed with a video from the security room. It was about the baby care room. I clicked on the video, which clearly showed Collin and Erika entering the room and staying there for almost an hour. After they left, Yolanda entered with a child and stormed out in anger. It was clear that the condom found in the room was left by Collin and Erika. I couldn’t believe it. The boyfriend I trusted most had been fooling around with a janitor behind my back. No wonder he’d been defending Erika so fiercely. Before I could even react, Collin stopped pretending. “The truth is, I like Erika, not you, the fake daughter! Erika’s gentle, kind, and considerate, while you just act like you’re on a pedestal all the time. You probably didn’t know, did you? The real heir to Wales Group is Erika, not you. You’re just an imposter!”

Just then, the office door creaked open, and my parents walked in, followed by a group of shareholders. My dad spoke first, “Collin, you said you had an urgent matter. What’s going on?” My mom added, “Yeah, what could be so important that it could affect the survival of Wales Group?” Collin glanced at me before answering, “Mr. Wales, Mrs. Wales, if you didn’t come, Wales Group might be taken over by outsiders!” The shareholders were shocked and immediately turned to me, asking what was happening. I could only force a smile and shake my head because I had no idea either. Erika walked up to my parents and suddenly collapsed in front of them. “Mom! Dad!” My parents froze, instinctively stepping back. My dad reacted the most strongly, pointing at Erika and shouting, “Who are you?! I’ve never betrayed my wife. I have only two children—Jessie and William!” Through her sobs, Erika said, “Dad, Mom, I was swapped with Jessica by the nanny, Mary. I’m your real daughter! Ever since I was little, Mary would hit and scold me whenever she was unhappy. I often went without food. I didn’t understand why my mom was so harsh with me, but one day I saw the footage from the old maternity center and realized I wasn’t even her biological child.” Many people in the room had red eyes, moved by her story. But my dad, having weathered many storms, wasn’t so easily swayed. “Do you have any proof of this?” Erika quickly pulled out her phone and cast the video onto the screen. The video was from over 20 years ago when my mom stayed at a high-end maternity center with cameras in every room. The video showed a nanny entering my mom’s room and taking one child out, then returning a short while later with another child dressed identically. The footage was over 20 years old, so the quality was poor, and it was impossible to tell if the two children were the same. After watching, my mom collapsed on the sofa, sobbing, “How could this happen? This can’t be true! I watched over my child day and night. How could she have been swapped?” My dad didn’t speak, but his face turned pale. Collin saw they were wavering but still unsure, so he tried to push further. “Mr. Wales, Mrs. Wales, now that we know the mistake, we need to correct it right away. We can’t let outsiders take advantage of the situation. Erika has suffered all these years. We need to make it up to her.” He then looked at me. “And those who shouldn’t be here—they need to be cleared out.” Several shareholders whispered to each other. “It makes sense. Since Jessica isn’t the Wales family’s biological daughter, she can’t keep her position as VP.” “Exactly, she’s an outsider. Who knows when she might turn against us?” “Before we deal with Jessica, we need to bring Erika in and train her properly.” I wasn’t interested in their conversation, though. I was focused on watching the video again. Something about one of the people in it seemed familiar. Seeing me replaying the video, Collin sneered, “Stop watching. Even if you study that video a hundred times, it won’t change the fact that you’re an imposter. The truth is right in front of you; how can you still sit here with any dignity?” Erika quickly interjected, “Collin, don’t say that. Mary is the one at fault, not Jessica. Let her have some time to accept the truth, and she’ll leave on her own.” I gave them both a cold look and ignored their words, instead asking, “Who’s the little boy standing behind Mary in the video?” Everyone froze in shock upon hearing my question.

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Our family business goes bankrupt, and my father decides we need to flee the country. As we approach the airport, a sleek black Maybach suddenly cuts us off, blocking the road completely. “Trying to skip town without settling your debt?” The cold, menacing voice comes from inside the car. Stepping out is Julian Knight, our largest creditor. A burly bodyguard in black drags my father out of the driver’s seat, forcing him to his knees with a harsh kick. My father crumples to the ground in front of Julian, bowing his head desperately. “Please, sir, have mercy. I… I have no way to repay the debt.” Julian presses the tip of his polished shoe against my father’s chin, lifting his face. “No money? Then give me your daughter. That will clear your debt.” Relief flashes across my father’s face. Without a moment’s hesitation, he scrambles to his feet, yanks me out of the back seat, and shoves me toward Julian. “This is my mute daughter, Celeste,” he says eagerly. “From now on, she’s yours. Do with her whatever you want.”

I stumbled backward, panic flooding through me as I looked at my father with pleading eyes, begging him not to do this. But he remained unmoved. “I’ve let you live a privileged life for years, even though you’re mute. I’ve fulfilled my duty as a father. Now it’s your turn to repay me.” As if afraid Julian might change his mind, my father hurried back to the car, threw one last cold command my way—”Make sure you serve him well!”—and slammed his foot on the gas, speeding off with the rest of my family without a backward glance. “Come with me,” Julian said, his cold fingertips brushing against my wrist. A shiver ran down my spine, and before I could stop myself, I bolted, running after my father’s car as it disappeared into the night. A bodyguard in black effortlessly tripped me with a subtle nudge of his foot, sending me crashing to the ground. My head hit the pavement with a sickening thud, and the rough asphalt scraped against my elbows and knees, leaving patches of raw, bloody skin. The same bodyguard hauled me up like I weighed nothing, tossing me into the back seat of the Maybach. The driver started the car, heading straight for Knight Estate. The night deepened, and in the dim glow of the car’s interior, Julian sat in the front seat, his expression cold and unreadable. His voice, low and laced with irritation, broke the silence. “Didn’t you have a crush on me in college? You should be thrilled to marry me now. But instead, you’re trying to run away? Hah. Women really are fickle.” His words pierced through me, and tears began to stream down my face uncontrollably. Yes, once, I had loved Julian deeply. He was the only person who had ever treated me like an equal. But I never imagined that love could have nearly killed me.

Back in school, I was the outcast. My classmates couldn’t stand me, insisting that someone like me—a mute—didn’t belong in a normal school. They said I should’ve gone to a “special” one, far away from them. No one wanted to sit next to me. Julian, however, willingly offered to take the seat by my side. To me, it was like a drowning person finding a lifeline. I was overwhelmed with gratitude for his kindness, and before I knew it, I had started to develop feelings for him. His friends teased him relentlessly for his “odd taste,” laughing that he’d chosen a mute girl as a desk partner. But Julian just shrugged, his tone light and dismissive. “The other girls are all too noisy. At least she lets me focus.” Quietly, I began showing my affection in small ways. I’d leave breakfast in his locker every morning, and when he missed class because he was sick, I’d meticulously write up notes and slip them into his bag. I knew I didn’t deserve him. I never dared to dream of having him. All I wanted was to see him happy, and I was willing to do anything for him. Then Julian got a girlfriend. Her name was Victoria Hale—beautiful, vibrant, and utterly ruthless. From the very first day of their relationship, Victoria launched what she called her “clean-up campaign,” targeting every girl who so much as glanced at Julian. And as his desk partner, I became her first victim. After school one day, Victoria cornered me with a group of girls. They pushed me to the ground and yanked my bag away, rummaging through it until they found the one thing I feared most—a thick blue notebook filled with pages and pages of my written confessions, all dedicated to Julian. Victoria’s expression darkened as she flipped through the pages. She grabbed my chin and slapped me hard across the face. Then, she tore the notebook apart, plastering five of its pages on the school bulletin board for everyone to see. The next day, the entire school was whispering, laughing behind their hands. A mute girl in love with the school’s most popular guy? It was unthinkable. “Can you believe it? Celeste Whitmore? A mute! And she thinks she has a chance with Julian?” “Julian’s girlfriend is Victoria Hale. What the hell is Celeste thinking?” The laughter stung worse than the slap. Victoria stood at the center of it all, smug and triumphant. I couldn’t even tear the pages down that night. Victoria and her friends had dragged me into the girls’ restroom, drenched me in ice-cold water, and locked me inside until morning. When I finally got home, I came down with a fever that no amount of medication could break. A week later, I was still bedridden, struggling to recover. The doctors eventually diagnosed me with fulminant myocarditis, caused by the cold. I spent a month in the ICU, teetering on the edge of death. When I was finally discharged, the thought of returning to school made my entire body shake. In the end, I had no choice but to take a leave of absence. By the time I mustered the courage to return a year later, Julian and Victoria had already graduated. Only then could I finally finish my studies in peace. Julian’s words about how “women are so fickle” weren’t just meant for me—they were also a jab at Victoria. Victoria was supposed to marry him next week. But just days before the wedding, she vanished. Julian eventually found out where she was—partying overseas with her friends, surrounded by handsome, blond strangers. She’d ignored his calls, turned off her phone, and thrown herself into a whirlwind of wild hedonism. Julian had been livid. To teach Victoria a lesson, he decided to replace her as his bride. And who better to spite her with than me—the one girl Victoria had always loathed most? I’d overheard my father gleefully gossiping about it one evening. “Julian’s had everything handed to him his whole life, and now he’s finally hit a wall with that Victoria girl.” He’d laughed as if Julian’s humiliation somehow eased his own failures. Now, I was to be part of Julian’s revenge. Marrying me was the cruelest way to mock Victoria. But for me, just thinking about Victoria’s face made my heart pound with dread. A sinking feeling settled in my gut. This marriage wasn’t going to be a fresh start. It was going to be the beginning of my end.

My first night at Knight Estate was sleepless. I tossed and turned until dawn, only to finally drift off for a brief moment before being abruptly woken up by Julian’s appointed stylists and makeup artists. They apologized profusely as they informed me of an urgent change: Julian had decided to move the wedding up to today. Unwilling but unable to resist, I was ushered into the dressing room. Julian was already there, his eyes glued to his phone. From the moment I entered to the moment I sat down, he didn’t spare me so much as a glance. The stylist retrieved a mermaid-style wedding gown from the wardrobe. It was stunningly beautiful but tailored for someone else—Victoria. The dress slid off my frame with the slightest movement. It was obvious that it had been designed for Victoria’s curvaceous figure. On my frail and petite body, the dress hung awkwardly, like a child trying on an adult’s clothes. Clutching the edge of the ill-fitting gown, I approached Julian, trying to communicate that the dress didn’t fit and pleading for the wedding to be delayed until a proper gown could be found. I stammered incoherent sounds, gesturing with my hands to express my thoughts. Julian let out an irritated click of his tongue and slammed his phone onto the table. “I thought you were quieter than other women,” he said, his voice cold. “But now I see that your little noises are even more grating. Stop flailing around like a monkey. I don’t understand sign language, and I don’t care to. Just do as you’re told. I don’t have time for your opinions.” My knees wobbled, and my eyes brimmed with tears. The stylist quickly stepped in to diffuse the tension. “We can adjust it, Miss. Don’t worry, it’ll be fine,” she said softly. She took out a needle and thread, pinching the gown tighter to make it fit. The once-beautiful wedding dress now bore obvious folds and stitches on the back—a stark reminder of how this wedding, much like my marriage to Julian, was cobbled together out of necessity rather than love. Once my makeup was done, it was time to head to the venue. But before we could leave, the dressing room door was abruptly kicked open. Victoria had arrived. Julian’s face lit up with triumph. He had deliberately leaked the news about the wedding and my role as the substitute bride, ensuring Victoria would find out. The fact that she showed up now meant his plan had worked. In his mind, this was a victory. Victoria stormed toward me, and in an instant, memories of her past torments flashed through my mind: the blue diary she tore to shreds, the ice-cold water she poured over me, and the nights she locked me in the school restroom while hurling insults from the other side. Did loving someone quietly, from afar, warrant such cruelty? I clenched my fists in defiance. Victoria raised her hand, ready to slap me, but I grabbed her wrist before it could land. My nails dug into her skin, and for the first time, I fought back. “What gives you the right to hit me?” I screamed internally. “Julian was the one who chose to marry me. Why aren’t you taking this up with him?” Victoria winced in pain. “You wretched mute! How dare you fight back!” she spat, her free hand rising for another strike. This time, Julian intercepted her. He stood between us, his expression colder than I’d ever seen. “Get out,” he said, his voice flat but final. Victoria’s fury morphed into desperation as she softened her tone, pleading with Julian. “Julian, please! I just wanted to clear my head before the wedding. I’m back now, and I won’t leave you again. Don’t be mad, okay?” “No,” Julian replied, his tone unwavering. He gestured to his bodyguards, who wasted no time dragging Victoria out of the estate. “Julian, no! Please, I’m sorry! Forgive me!” Victoria’s cries echoed through the hallway. Julian’s lips curled into a smirk. He had no intention of forgiving her so easily. Letting her off now wouldn’t satisfy his need to teach her a lesson. He planned to break her completely before considering reconciliation. The wedding went on as planned, but Julian’s empty gaze as he stood before me made it clear that this was no celebration. His thoughts were miles away, tethered to Victoria, leaving behind only a hollow shell to go through the motions.

That night, in our bridal suite, I grabbed a pen and paper and carefully wrote, “Now that you’ve had your revenge on Victoria, can’t you let me go? Please let me leave.” Julian’s brow furrowed as he grabbed my chin, forcing me to meet his icy gaze. “I married you to erase your family’s one-billion-dollar debt,” he said, his voice low and venomous. “And now you think that debt only buys me one day with you? Like father, like daughter. You’re both delusional.” He leaned in closer, his words biting. “I’ll let you go when I’m done. When I’ve fixed Victoria, when I’m ready to move on—then, and only then, can you leave. Until that day, you’re mine. Don’t even think about running.” Before I could react, Julian’s lips crashed down on mine. His kiss was fierce and punishing, stealing the air from my lungs. I tried to push him away, but it was useless. He ripped the dress from my body, pinning me beneath him. Then, the phone on the bedside table buzzed. Julian smirked, reaching for it. I shook my head frantically, trying to stop him, but he paid no attention. Grabbing my wrists, he pinned them above my head, his movements growing more brutal as he answered the video call. “No!” Victoria’s scream rang out from the other end of the call. “Julian, please stop! Stop torturing me!” she cried. Julian’s voice dripped with mockery. “Couldn’t handle it, could you? Did you ever think about how I felt while you were partying overseas, fooling around with those men?” “I’m sorry!” Victoria sobbed. “I was wrong! Please, tell me what I have to do for you to forgive me. If not, I’ll just end it. I’ll jump!” A sudden gust of wind roared through the phone’s speaker. Victoria stood on a rooftop, her face pale with despair. For the first time that night, fear flickered in Julian’s eyes. He quickly threw on his clothes and left the room without another word. I lay there on the bed, tears streaming down my face. Four years ago, Victoria’s torment had nearly driven me to death. But nothing she did back then compared to the humiliation Julian inflicted tonight. He had stripped me bare—not just physically, but emotionally—offering up my pain as entertainment for Victoria. At that moment, I stopped caring about my father or Julian’s threats. No one had ever asked if I wanted any of this. I wasn’t a commodity. I was a person. I deserved to live, and I deserved my freedom. With the estate guards relaxed after the wedding, tonight was my best chance to escape.

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On our wedding day, Jason’s ex-girlfriend sent him her terminal diagnosis. She said her only dying wish was to wear a wedding dress one last time. To fulfill her request, Jason locked me in the bridal suite and prepared to marry her instead. From behind the door, his irritated voice rang out: “Can you stop being so heartless? She’s dying. What’s the harm in letting her have this moment?” Later, the boy-next-door—who had been secretly in love with me for years—climbed up to the rooftop of the venue, threatening to jump unless I agreed to marry him. Jason, his eyes red with desperation, fell to his knees and begged me: “You’re really going to throw away seven years of our relationship for him?” I brushed his hand away and replied coldly: “What else should I do? Watch him die? It’s just signing some papers. Don’t be so heartless.” One hour before the wedding was set to begin, I sat at the vanity, staring at my phone. On the screen was a photo Jason’s ex-girlfriend had sent me. She was wearing my wedding dress—the one I had painstakingly chosen—and had her arm wrapped around Jason’s. She was smiling radiantly, while Jason gazed down at her with a tenderness he’d never shown me. Her accompanying text read: “He said I look better in it than you ever could.” Then another message followed: “If you want your wedding to happen, you’ll have to beg me.” I turned off my phone and looked at the makeup artist in the mirror. My voice was cold but steady. “The wedding dress I ordered—is it really unwearable because of a fitting mistake?” The makeup artist froze, avoiding my gaze. This was the same boutique that had handled my dress, my makeup, and my photography. I had gone above and beyond to ensure every detail of my wedding was perfect, sparing no expense and holding countless meetings with their team. Her silence told me everything I needed to know. I thought back to when Jason accompanied me to my dress fittings—half the time, he was on his phone or laptop, handling “work.” Yet, when he was with her, the photos showed him laughing, his entire face lighting up. I clenched my phone tightly in my hand and exhaled slowly. “Can someone fetch Jason for me?” I said, my voice calm but firm. The makeup artist’s assistant scurried off to find him. I glanced at myself in the mirror. The bodice of the replacement dress felt suffocating, the fabric digging into my ribs. Perhaps clothes that don’t fit should never be worn in the first place. The first person to enter wasn’t Jason—it was the officiant. He looked nervous, guilt written all over his face. “I’m sorry, Miss Carter,” he said hesitantly, “but… you don’t need to attend the ceremony anymore.” “Don’t need to attend?” I asked, the absurdity of the statement almost making me laugh. “Are you telling me that I, the bride, am not needed at my own wedding?” The officiant opened his mouth to explain, but before he could, Jason walked in. “It was my decision,” Jason said, cutting him off. He was wearing the white tuxedo I had chosen for him, but the bow tie wasn’t the one I had picked. My gaze lingered on it for a moment. Jason noticed and awkwardly tugged at his collar, coughing lightly. “Rebecca has surgery in a few days,” he began, his tone almost defensive. “The hospital issued a terminal notice. She said her only wish is to wear a wedding dress—just once.” I let out a cold laugh. “And she wants to do it at our wedding?” I knew Rebecca. In the third year of my relationship with Jason, I found out about her: his childhood sweetheart, the girl-next-door, the ex-girlfriend who had lost all her hair from chemotherapy. Their families were close, and even after their breakup, their lives remained intertwined. She had moved away for treatment, and her parents had asked Jason to look after her while she was in town. At first, I respected her. I felt sympathy for a young woman whose life had been derailed by illness. But then came the late-night calls, asking Jason to bring her soup after our dates. I had tolerated it, time and again, because she was sick. Jason had always reassured me, prioritizing my feelings and only going to her when it was truly urgent. Sometimes, he even brought me along. Until today. When had he started trying on wedding dresses with her? When had he decided to give her my dress and let her take my place in our ceremony?

The air conditioning in the room suddenly felt too cold, chilling me to the bone. Jason stepped forward, reaching for my hand, but I pulled away. “Bring the dress back,” I said, my voice low but firm. “I don’t want her wearing it.” Jason frowned. “Don’t be ridiculous, Carol. It’s just a ceremony. We can always have another one.” The irritation in his tone, the way his lips tightened—like I was the one being unreasonable—stabbed at me. I stared at him, my voice sharp. “She can have the dress. But does her ceremony have to include you as the groom?” Was this her wielding her illness to manipulate him? Or had Jason already checked out of our relationship, using this as an easy way to slip away? My words hit a nerve. Jason’s face darkened, and he turned toward the door. “You’re impossible to deal with,” he snapped. “You never care about my image. You always have to make everything a spectacle.” The door slammed shut behind him, and I heard the lock click. I stared at the door, stunned, before the reality of the situation hit me. He had locked me in. I threw the skirt of my dress aside and banged on the door. “I don’t agree to this! I’ve spent months preparing for this wedding, and it’s not just some meaningless ritual to me—” His voice came from the other side, cold and impatient. “Can you stop being so heartless? She’s dying. What’s the harm in letting her have this?” I froze, my hands still on the doorknob. She’s dying. Because of her illness, I had already given up so much. Now I was expected to hand over my wedding, my husband, my dignity. But was it my fault she was sick? I took a deep breath and steadied my voice. “Jason, think carefully. Don’t do something you’ll regret.” There was a pause, then the sound of his footsteps fading away. I sank to the floor, my dress pooling around me like a cage. My mind was blank, my heart hollow. She had done it. Rebecca had destroyed my wedding. My phone buzzed on the vanity. It was my parents calling. Before I could answer, the call disconnected. The bridal suite was just behind the main hall, separated by a single door. From here, I could hear the commotion outside—the sound of a crowd murmuring in surprise, followed by applause. Another message from Rebecca popped up. It was a video. The camera panned to the screen in the hall. All the engagement photos Jason and I had spent hours taking had been digitally altered—my face replaced with hers. Every outfit, every smile, every moment of discomfort in the blazing sun—given to her. I trembled with rage, but I still tapped on the next video. This time, I saw Rebecca walking down the aisle, the spotlight following her as she approached Jason. In the shadows behind her, I saw my parents—faces pale, frantically searching for me—held in place by two security guards. Tears blurred my vision and fell onto the screen. Why had I chosen Jason? Why had I dragged my parents into this humiliation with me? I didn’t watch the rest of the videos. As the sounds of celebration continued beyond the wall, I stood in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection. Slowly, methodically, I removed the ill-fitting wedding dress. I wiped away the makeup. I changed back into my own clothes. For the first time that day, I felt relief. At least I had seen Jason’s true colors before signing the marriage certificate. Better late than never.

The ceremony was finally over. The door to the bridal suite opened, and Jason stood there, rubbing his temples. He looked just as drained as I felt. “I’ll make it up to you,” he said, his voice heavy. “I’ll also explain everything to our parents. I’ll go to their house myself—” I cut him off. “No need. They’re my parents, not yours.” This had nothing to do with him anymore, so why should he bother? Jason looked stunned for a moment, then sighed, his exhaustion showing on his face. “Can you stop being so stubborn? You know Rebecca has been through so much with her illness. What’s the big deal about giving her this one thing?” Even now, he still didn’t think he was wrong. He still defended her. For a moment, I couldn’t even find the words to respond. “Fine,” I finally said, my voice calm but resolute. “Call it stubborn if you want. I’ll pack my things and move out tonight. As for the house, I’ll have someone put it on the market. If you don’t want to sell, just transfer the money my family contributed to my account.” I didn’t wait for his reply. I spotted my parents standing nearby, surrounded by relatives, and walked toward them, leaving Jason with a curt, “That’s it.” When I reached my parents, I overheard one of the relatives whispering, “So, she got dumped at her own wedding, huh?” My second aunt chimed in, shaking her head in disapproval. “Girls like her are too headstrong. That’s why this happened. Imagine the shame—getting replaced on her wedding day.” I felt a sharp pang in my chest as I saw the embarrassment on my parents’ faces. Ignoring the fact that she was my elder, I stepped forward and snapped back. “Are you my aunt or Jason’s?” I asked, my tone cold. “It was his decision to replace the bride, not mine. That’s on him—his lack of responsibility, his inability to respect me, and his failure to communicate. This has nothing to do with me being ‘too headstrong.’ If I’d known even one day earlier, he wouldn’t have been the groom today.” My aunt’s face flushed with embarrassment, and she muttered something under her breath before scurrying away. My mom reached for my hand, her worry clear in her eyes. I gave her a small smile and said softly, “It’s okay, Mom. If the wedding’s off, so be it. I don’t need it anyway.” After making sure my parents got into their car safely, I headed to the house Jason and I had prepared as our marital home to pack my things. I was composed, logical, and determined to get everything over with. But emotions don’t always follow reason. Before I even started packing, tears began streaming down my face, completely out of my control. This house was full of memories of Jason. The small ceramic pot he bought me when he found out I had bad cramps, promising to make me herbal soup every week. The walk-in closet he designed for me after seeing a video I’d liked of a “shoe ferris wheel” for high heels. I had laughed at the colorful LED lights he installed, joking that it looked too over the top. He had just pulled me into his arms and asked for a kiss as a reward. We met in college, then spent a year in a long-distance relationship when work pulled us apart. Jason had chased me relentlessly back then, going out of his way to win me over. He once told me he fell for me after watching me hold my own in a debate competition, saying I was “like a force of nature.” Back then, I was a shining light in his eyes. And now, that same light had become too much for him—he called me “too strong,” as if it was a flaw. I packed in silence, pulling myself out of the memories piece by piece. By the time I had finished, all that remained of our seven years together was a single cardboard box, barely reaching my waist. I stared at the box, wondering how I would haul it out and where I would even put it. That’s when the door burst open, and Stephanie stormed in, her fiery energy filling the room. The moment I saw her, all the strength I had been clinging to crumbled, and my nose started to sting as fresh tears welled up. Stephanie pulled me into a tight hug, squeezing me like she was trying to hold me together. “I knew I should’ve been your maid of honor,” she said fiercely. “If I’d been there, you wouldn’t have had to face this alone.” Stephanie had never liked Jason. She hated his indecisiveness, his inability to let go of Rebecca, and she had refused to attend the wedding because of him. She’d even warned me before: ”If you marry him, you’ll regret it.” She hadn’t minced words either: ”Rebecca being alive is bad enough, but if she dies, you’ll never win against a ghost.” Her words had caused a huge fight between us. We stopped talking for months. But now, looking back, I realized she’d been right all along. I was so grateful she came back. Stephanie had purposely scheduled a work trip to avoid my wedding, but as soon as she heard what had happened, she dropped everything and rushed to find me. She even took time off to stay with me, refusing to let me wallow alone. With her around, the days didn’t seem so unbearable. A week later, she was already trying to set me up with new people when Jason showed up at my door. I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. A scumbag coming back to grovel? Well, I wasn’t about to let him walk all over me again.

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### My sister-in-law has an unhealthy obsession with dramatic, over-the-top “tragedy fiction.” After giving birth, she refused to breastfeed the baby because the baby smiled at the nanny. She claimed the baby was an ungrateful little backstabber who would never love her. When my brother had to leave for an emergency meeting, he reminded her to take care of herself and not catch a cold while recovering postpartum. The moment he left, she filled the bathtub with cold water, sank herself into it, and stayed there until she was bleeding uncontrollably. She ended up in the hospital. One day, my brother’s assistant dropped by the house to deliver some documents. My sister-in-law sat calmly on the couch, her face a mask of sorrow and resignation. “You don’t have to flaunt your victory,” she said with a tragic air. “If you want this man, take him. I’ll step aside.” At the baby’s one-month celebration party, a family friend—a woman who grew up with us—came to congratulate them. My sister-in-law threw a glass of red wine at her, staining her expensive dress. “A mistress with no shame,” she sneered. “No designer gown can hide the ugliness of your soul.” My brother and I tried to reason with her, speaking as kindly as we could. But that night, she left without a word, vanishing into the darkness. All she left behind was a signed divorce agreement. “I don’t want you or the baby,” it read. My sister-in-law, Claire, has always been a fan of fiction. When she got pregnant, she stopped going out much, and reading novels became her favorite pastime. I’d even introduced her to the reading app she used, where friends could see each other’s bookshelves. One day, I opened the app and was hit with a flood of tragedy fiction recommendations: “Your Friend is Reading: ‘After Mom Faked Her Death, Dad Finally Regretted Everything.’” “Your Friend Just Reread: ‘Divorced and Abandoned, But Now My Ex-Husband and Son Begged Me to Come Back.’” “Your Friend Liked: ‘My Husband and Son Saved His First Love During the Flood, Leaving Me to Die.’” I only had one friend on this app—Claire. When I clicked on her bookshelf, it was packed wall-to-wall with these melodramatic, soap opera-style tragedy novels. My first reaction? My brother cheated on her! I immediately called my brother, Dylan. “Hey, what did you do to Claire?! Did you cheat? I swear, if you did, I’m calling Mom and Dad to break your legs!” Dylan sounded completely panicked. “What are you talking about? I would never cheat on Claire! I’m loyal to her, 100%. The only women I even talk to are you and Mom! Who’s been spreading these rumors?” My brother has always been a terrible liar, so I knew he was telling the truth. I relaxed a little. “Oh, okay,” I said casually. “I was just testing you. Congrats, you passed. Keep being a good husband, alright? Bye!” Maybe Claire just liked these kinds of novels. Maybe I was overthinking it. But it wasn’t long before I realized her obsession with tragedy fiction was way more intense—and way more concerning—than I’d thought. It all started after Claire gave birth. Thanks to Dylan’s constant attention during her pregnancy, everything went smoothly. On the day she went into labor, Dylan noticed her contractions were more frequent than usual. Without missing a beat, he grabbed the pre-packed hospital bag, alerted the medical team, and had their driver speed to the private hospital owned by our family. Since Claire didn’t have any parents of her own, my parents and I rushed to the hospital to support her and cheer her on during delivery. The birth itself went perfectly. Claire had been cared for so meticulously during her pregnancy that both she and the baby were in excellent shape. Before long, the sound of a baby’s cry filled the delivery room. Claire had given birth to a healthy baby boy. Following Dylan’s “support guidelines” for family members, we disinfected ourselves thoroughly before entering the room. We barely glanced at the newborn, instead gathering around Claire, who looked pale but radiant. My mom grabbed her hand, tears in her eyes. “Claire, sweetheart, you did such an amazing job. We’re so proud of you.” My dad, as always, was quieter with his affection. He simply slipped a black AmEx card under her pillow without a word. Dylan, on the other hand, was an emotional wreck. Gone was the ruthless businessman who dominated boardrooms—he was now a teary-eyed, doting husband. Claire, her voice soft and weak, said, “Let me see the baby.” A nurse gently brought over the tiny bundle, placing him in Claire’s arms. Claire leaned in close to the baby’s face, her eyes filled with warmth and love. “It wasn’t easy,” she whispered, “but it was worth it to bring you into this world.” The doctor, who had been monitoring the situation, smiled and reassured her. “You’re being too hard on yourself, Mrs. Stone. Your delivery went exceptionally well. Your family’s quick response, combined with the support of our team, made everything as smooth as possible. You didn’t even need stitches—no tearing, no complications. You did great.” But instead of looking relieved, Claire’s expression darkened. The warmth in the room evaporated. My parents, Dylan, and I all exchanged nervous glances. Claire’s voice was icy. “So what you’re saying is, it was easy for me to give birth? That my child will grow up thinking his mom didn’t even suffer for him? That I didn’t make any sacrifices?” The doctor froze, sweat beading on his forehead. “Mrs. Stone, that’s not what I meant at all!” I jumped in, trying to defuse the tension. “Claire, you carried him for nine months and brought him into this world. Of course, he’ll know how much you’ve done for him!” But Claire just frowned and leaned back against the bed. “Hmph. Who knows? Maybe one day he’ll grow up, call someone else ‘Mom,’ and forget all about me.” What?! None of us knew what to say. Seeing how exhausted she looked, we decided not to push the conversation further. To make sure Claire had the best postpartum care possible, my mom had started interviewing potential caregivers months in advance. She ended up hiring four top-tier postpartum nannies, a chef, and a nutritionist to take care of both Claire and the baby. We even had thick carpets installed throughout the house to reduce noise, and Claire’s bedroom was equipped with soundproof walls to ensure she could rest undisturbed. Dylan canceled all his work-related social events and delegated most of his responsibilities to his assistant so he could stay home and take care of Claire full-time. My parents were fully on board with this. “The company will be fine without you for a while,” my dad said. “Right now, Claire and the baby need you more than anything.” “The doctor said postpartum hormones can make emotions unpredictable,” my mom added. “You need to keep an eye on her and make sure she stays in good spirits.” Even I tried to help, scouring every store I could think of to find snacks and little gifts that might cheer her up. But no matter what we did, Claire remained distant and melancholy. 2 Under the care of the nanny, the baby grew more lively and adorable with each passing day. His big, sparkling eyes and soft, porcelain-like skin made him look like a little doll—impossible not to love. One afternoon, I was playing with the baby alongside the nanny, holding up toys and making silly faces to get him to laugh. He giggled nonstop, his tiny mouth spreading into the sweetest smile. That’s when Claire, my sister-in-law, walked into the room. She froze in the doorway, her face pale, her lips trembling. “He’s never smiled at me like that—not once. But he’ll laugh so easily for a stranger. In the end, he’s just an ungrateful little traitor…” The baby, unaware of the tension, blinked his wide, innocent eyes at us, confused. I couldn’t hold back anymore. “Claire, he’s just a baby! He doesn’t even know what’s going on. How can you say something like that?” But Claire only shook her head, looking heartbroken. “You don’t understand.” Dylan, my brother, rushed over with a blanket, draping it over her shoulders. “Claire, don’t overthink it. The baby loves you the most—of course he does!” Claire gave a faint, bitter smile. “Better to let go now than wait for him to resent me later.” From that day on, she made up her mind. She took medication to stop producing milk and refused to breastfeed the baby again. “It’s fine,” Dylan said through gritted teeth, watching the nanny prepare formula. “The baby will grow up healthy on formula. Claire’s mental health is the most important thing.” But the baby cried inconsolably, his tiny face red with tears, unable to understand why the comforting warmth of his mother’s arms and milk was suddenly gone. Claire, unmoved, glanced at him coldly. “See? Just like the novels said—pain teaches regret.” She turned to the nanny, her expression indifferent. “Take him back to the nursery. I need to rest.” I clenched my fists, struggling to contain the anger that had been building inside me. Finally, I pulled Dylan out of the room. “Don’t you think Claire might have postpartum depression?” he asked, running a tired hand through his hair. “She was fine before the baby was born, but now… she’s like a completely different person.” My anger instantly faded, replaced by a pang of guilt. He was right—Claire wasn’t herself anymore. It had to be the hormones, and she was likely struggling more than any of us realized. “You’re right,” I admitted. “She’s at her most vulnerable right now. We need to help her through this.” “By the way,” I added, “you might want to take her phone away for a while. Those novels she’s reading aren’t helping. The last thing she needs is more drama from those over-the-top tragic stories.” It didn’t take long for my warning to come true. One day, Dylan’s assistant called to say there was an urgent issue at the company that required his personal attention. Dylan spent hours trying to resolve the problem remotely, but nothing worked. “Claire,” he said gently, “I have to run to the office for a few hours. I promise I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Claire barely looked at him. “Go ahead. Don’t worry about me.” Dylan leaned down and kissed her forehead, tucking the blanket snugly around her. “You’re still recovering—make sure to stay warm. I’ll bring back that cake you like from your favorite bakery.” With that, he hurried out the door. When he returned a few hours later, cake box in hand, the house was shrouded in darkness. “Claire?” he called out, his voice tinged with panic. After searching every room, he finally checked the security footage and confirmed that she hadn’t left the house. Following the sound of running water, we found her in the bathroom. Dylan flipped the light switch, and there she was—sitting in the bathtub, fully clothed in a thin white dress, her body submerged in ice-cold water. Her expression was distant, her eyes glassy, like she wasn’t even there. “Claire!” Dylan shouted, rushing to pull her out of the tub. The icy water shocked him so badly he shuddered, but he didn’t pause for a moment. “Claire, what are you doing? You’re still recovering! You can’t expose yourself to cold like this—it’s dangerous!” Claire slowly blinked at him, then let out a bitter laugh. “Dylan, stop pretending. If you really cared, you wouldn’t have left me alone when I needed you most.” “You chose your company over me,” she added, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “So why does it matter what happens to me?” Dylan’s face turned pale, his lips trembling, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he called the hospital, his voice cracking as he demanded an ambulance. The red velvet cake he’d brought back for her lay discarded at the bathroom door, crushed and forgotten. Claire spent the next seven days in the hospital. The prolonged exposure to cold during her postpartum recovery caused her to develop a fever and relentless bleeding. She lost so much weight during her stay that she was almost unrecognizable when she was finally discharged. Dylan stayed by her side the entire time. He didn’t shave. He barely slept, dozing off in a chair by her bed, terrified she might disappear if he looked away. When my parents learned what had happened, they both sighed heavily. None of us could find the right words to say. As they walked out of the hospital room, Claire watched them go with an unreadable expression. Then, she said quietly, “I knew this day would come.” “When I’ve accumulated enough scars from all of you, I’ll leave, too.” “No one in this world truly needs anyone else.” I couldn’t hold back anymore. “Claire, what the hell are you talking about?” I snapped, pointing an accusing finger at her. “This family bends over backward for you! We’ve done everything to support you, to make sure you’re happy and healthy. And what do you do? You ruin your own body, push everyone away, and act like we’re the ones to blame. What’s your goal here?!” 3 Claire stubbornly turned her head away. “Your so-called concern, arriving late as always, is worth less than dirt. I don’t need your cheap sympathy.” “Claire, what are you talking about—” My parents, who had just returned to check on her, froze in the doorway, stunned by what they’d overheard. Claire’s expression faltered for a moment, a flicker of panic flashing in her eyes as she looked at them. But my mom simply sighed, her tone heavy with disappointment. “Claire, just rest. Your health is what matters most. We’ll leave now.” Claire pressed her lips together tightly, saying nothing. Seeing the pleading look in Dylan’s eyes, I swallowed my frustration and left with my parents. After that incident, Claire must have realized she’d gone too far. She quieted down for a while, and things between her and the rest of the family started to ease up. With Dylan’s encouragement, we gradually let go of the tension and resentment. When their baby boy, Nathan, was finally named and started to grow, the house slowly returned to its once-harmonious atmosphere. That is, until the day a new intern from Dylan’s company showed up to deliver some documents. To avoid any unnecessary misunderstandings, Dylan had been working from home, arranging for his male assistant, Jack, to deliver paperwork that needed his signature. Jack would drop off the documents, Dylan would handle them, and Jack would take them back to the office. But on this particular day, Jack called in sick, and the task fell to a new intern. The intern, a young woman who’d just graduated, arrived at the front door in a professional-looking suit and carrying a large work bag. She politely handed the documents to Dylan, who silently signed them without saying a word. Not a single unnecessary exchange occurred between them. Unfortunately, Claire happened to walk in at that exact moment. The intern, sensing the tension, immediately greeted her politely. “Good evening, Mrs. Stone. I’m so sorry to intrude. I’m an intern at the company—my name is Lily. I was just here to deliver these documents for Mr. Stone.” But something twisted in Claire’s expression. It was as if she’d been struck by lightning. Her face darkened, and then, like a storm rolling in, she wore an expression of grim certainty. Dylan, noticing her look, quickly explained, “Jack couldn’t make it today, so Lily had to bring the paperwork over. She’s leaving as soon as I’ve signed them.” Claire, however, didn’t seem to hear him. She gave Lily a strange, almost pitying smile, and then calmly dropped a bombshell. “There’s no need for you to leave. I’ll step aside for the two of you.” Lily froze, completely confused. “I’m sorry… step aside? What do you mean?” I immediately sensed disaster brewing and quickly stepped in, grabbing Claire’s hand. “Claire, let’s not joke around like that! Dinner’s ready—it’s your favorite fish soup. Let’s eat, okay?” I shot Dylan a look, silently begging him to step in. Dylan caught on and shoved the papers into Lily’s hands. “I’ve signed everything. Take these back to the office right away.” But Claire pulled her hand from mine, her face filled with tragic determination. Her voice trembled as she spoke. “You don’t have to pretend anymore. Isn’t this exactly what you wanted? You’re here to flaunt your victory, aren’t you? Fine. Take him. He’s yours.” Lily looked horrified. “Mrs. Stone, I think there’s been a misunderstanding! I have a boyfriend—I’m just here to deliver paperwork!” But Claire wasn’t listening. She was lost in her own spiraling imagination, her lips curling into a bitter smile. “Oh, sweet girl. I was young once, too. I remember those promises of eternal love, those grand gestures. Don’t get too comfortable—you haven’t won anything. The only things you can take are the things I no longer want.” Dylan finally lost his patience. “Claire, stop this nonsense! Lily is just an intern! She has nothing to do with me!” Claire stared at him in disbelief, tears spilling down her cheeks. “You’re yelling at me? For her? What’s next? Are you going to call me irrational and accuse me of making things up?” Her voice broke, trembling with a mix of anger and heartbreak. “I knew it. Those novels I read—they were right. They’re all just reflections of reality! If I hadn’t walked in on you tonight, how much longer were you planning to keep this a secret from me?”

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My in-laws were so biased. Three years ago, when I married Ethan, my in-laws claimed they had no money. They couldn’t afford a house or even a wedding gift. So Ethan and I simply registered our marriage, hosted a small dinner for our friends, and called it a wedding. But the following year, when Ethan’s younger brother, Ryan, got married, things were drastically different. My in-laws bought him a three-bedroom apartment. Not only that, they gave his wife a wedding gift worth 180 thousand dollars and a lot of gold. I was furious. “How can you treat your daughters-in-law so differently?” I demanded. Their response left me speechless. “It’s not the same,” they said. “You and Ethan fell in love and got married out of feelings. Talking about money would tarnish that. “But Ryan met his wife through an arranged marriage. Without a house and a wedding gift, no one would agree to marry him.” Their words felt like a slap in the face. I exploded, arguing with them until they couldn’t defend themselves anymore. And when they ran out of excuses, they turned nasty. “Our money, our choice,” they spat. “We can give it to whoever we want. “We love Ryan more because he’s obedient and considerate. “And honestly, you’re shameless. You practically paid to marry Ethan!” I was stunned and burst out crying. All the understanding and generosity I’d shown them suddenly felt like self-degradation. That night, I packed my things, and went back to my parents’ home. From that day on, I refused to speak a single word to Ethan’s parents. It was Ethan who eventually coaxed me into returning. He made a promise. “From now on, it’s just the two of us. Anything you didn’t get before, I’ll make up for it. I’ll make sure you never feel wronged or unloved. I’ll always protect and cherish you.” I was naive and deeply in love, so I believed him. To his credit, Ethan kept his word. He treated me well, and slowly, my resentment eased. But I could never fully forgive his parents. I didn’t stop Ethan from maintaining contact with them, but as for me? The idea of honoring and respecting them was out of the question. Last year, when I gave birth to our daughter, Ethan called them to share the news. But they didn’t even bother to check on me or their granddaughter. It was my mom who traveled from out of town to take care of me during my recovery. Later, I found out that Ryan’s wife was also pregnant. My in-laws doted on her like she was royalty. Everything she or the baby needed was top-quality, and they paid for all of it. Sometimes, I genuinely wondered if Ethan was adopted. Why else would they treat us so differently? But over time, I let it go. Whatever they did to me, I would do the same to them.

I never expected it, but Ethan’s father fell ill. Even worse, his parents wanted to live with us, claiming that our place was closer to the hospital. It started with Ethan casually bringing it up during dinner the night before. “Zoey, we have an extra room. Can my parents stay with us for a while? It’s closer to the hospital,” he said, testing the waters. I refused without hesitation. After all, Ryan’s place was also in the city. The only difference was that it was an hour away from the hospital, whereas ours was just thirty minutes. But Ryan and his wife had a spacious three-bedroom apartment, while Ethan and I were crammed into a small one-bedroom unit. Plus, that extra room wasn’t meant for guests; it was for our nanny. Ethan and I both worked full-time, and my parents, given their age and health, couldn’t help with childcare. So, we hired a nanny to look after our daughter, Lily, during the day. If Ethan’s parents moved in, where would the nanny stay? And more importantly, who would look after Lily? I certainly didn’t expect his parents to lift a finger. “Why can’t they stay at Ryan’s?” I asked pointedly. Ethan hesitated before mumbling, “It’s Ryan and Emma… They don’t agree. Emma’s worried about Dad’s illness being contagious. Little Josh is just over a year old, and his immune system is still developing.” Josh was Ryan and Emma’s precious son. Hearing that made my blood boil. “Oh, so their child can’t risk getting sick, but ours can? Ethan, have you forgotten how they treated us? “Why is it that they get the comfort and we’re left with the burden? Are we just here to be taken advantage of?” I couldn’t hold back my anger and let Ethan have it. He eventually apologized and promised he wouldn’t make any decisions without my agreement. That managed to soothe me for the moment. But I had a gut feeling this wasn’t over. Sure enough, the very next evening, I came home from work to find three unexpected figures in our living room: Ethan’s parents and Ryan. For a moment, I thought I was seeing things. After all, it had been years since I last laid eyes on them. But a closer look confirmed it, and they were indeed here. Ethan looked up as I entered, clearly uncomfortable, and tried to play it off. “Zoey, you’re home. My parents and Ryan are here.” I nodded curtly, my mind racing. Did they just show up uninvited? Or did Ethan neglect to tell me? As I debated whether to greet them or not, my gaze landed on his parents, sitting on the couch like royalty, clearly expecting me to bow and scrape like a servant. Remembering all the times they treated me poorly, I simply turned on my heel and headed into the nursery. Inside, our nanny was putting Lily to sleep. She looked up as I entered and couldn’t help but vent. “Zoey, your in-laws are something else. That’s their granddaughter out there, and they didn’t even glance at her.” She shook her head in disbelief. “Lily didn’t recognize them and started crying. Your mother-in-law even complained about it being bad luck. I had to bring her in here right away. “Don’t worry. I’ve sanitized the room.” I didn’t tell her about Ethan’s father’s sickness. She probably overheard it when they discussed it this afternoon. My heart sank further when the nanny added, “I overheard them talking earlier. Sounds like they’re planning to stay here for a while.” I felt even more irritated. Before I could respond, Ethan walked in. “Zoey, can you make dinner? My parents and Ryan haven’t eaten yet.” The nerve of it all pushed me over the edge. How dare they ask me to cook for them? “Order takeout,” I snapped. The sharpness in my tone made me regret it immediately. It wasn’t polite, not in the slightest. But Ethan just blinked and replied, “All right.” That wasn’t good enough for Ryan, though. “What’s her problem?” he sneered. “Doesn’t seem like we’re welcome here. What kind of attitude is that? Who does she think she is? “Honestly, Ethan, how do you let her walk all over you? “No wonder Mom and Dad don’t like her.” I hadn’t planned to argue, but hearing Ryan’s increasingly obnoxious remarks, I couldn’t hold back anymore. “Oh? And who exactly do you think you’re talking about?” I stormed out of the nursery. “You came here to stir up trouble, didn’t you? Did I invite you? If you don’t like it here, you’re free to leave!” Ryan bristled. “This is my brother’s house. What does it have to do with you?” I laughed in disbelief. “And whose house do you think this is, genius? My husband’s house is my house. So yeah, it has everything to do with me.” Before I could unleash more, Ethan stepped in. “Zoey, that’s enough.” Enough? I wanted to scream. Why should I stay quiet while they disrespected me in my own home? But one look at Ethan’s conflicted face made me bite my tongue. Then, Ethan’s father cleared his throat and started theatrically lamenting, “What a disgrace. Truly a disgrace. Ethan, how could you let your wife behave this way? We’re your parents, not your enemies.” His mother chimed in, “If we’re not welcome, we’ll leave.” “By all means,” I thought. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” But Ryan, as always, played the loyal son. “Come on, Mom, Dad. Just endure it for now. Emma’s worried about Josh getting sick with you both going to the hospital every day. Once you’re better, I’ll come get you right away. “Ethan, take care of Mom and Dad.” And with that, Ryan bolted, leaving Ethan and me to deal with the fallout. I looked at them and felt utterly speechless. Ethan eventually managed to pull his parents back to the couch, promising them they could stay. His mother even threw me a pointed look and said, “Ethan, you wouldn’t turn us away too, would you?” “Of course not, Mom,” he assured her. Meanwhile, I turned and walked back into the nursery. Out of sight, out of mind.

Eventually, Ethan ordered takeout for his parents. I brought a separate portion to our nanny in the nursery. I wasn’t hungry. I’d already eaten at work, so I sat on the bed, mulling over the situation. I was not a heartless person. Sure, I had a sharp tongue, but I couldn’t bring myself to kick two sick, elderly parents out of my home. Even though they had treated me poorly, they were still family, and his father was seriously ill. If I turned them away now, my conscience wouldn’t let me sleep at night, and it might even put a strain on my relationship with Ethan. Because as much as Ethan’s parents had shown blatant favoritism, and as much as it had created distance between him and them, he was still their son. He was softhearted, and I knew he couldn’t bear to see them suffer. But our home was just too small. It was barely 850 square feet. Ethan and I shared one room, and the nanny occupied the other. What was I supposed to do, ask his parents to sleep in the living room? I decided to discuss the matter with Ethan. Maybe we could rent an apartment for his parents near the hospital. But there was no way I’d shoulder the cost alone. Ryan and Emma would need to split the rent with us. However, things took an unexpected turn. Ethan’s father was diagnosed with kidney failure. I looked it up online. It was not an easy illness to manage. The treatments were expensive, time-consuming, and grueling. He’d need dialysis three times a week, each session lasting four hours, a stopgap at best. The only real solution was a kidney transplant. And that would cost hundreds of thousands, not to mention the challenge of finding a suitable donor. For an average family, it was a devastating blow. A sense of dread settled in my chest. I had a sinking feeling that our household was about to be thrown into chaos. On the day of the diagnosis, Ethan was unusually quiet. That night, he stood on the balcony, chain-smoking. By the time he came back inside, his eyes were bloodshot. “Zoey,” he started, his voice trembling. “What am I supposed to do? My dad… he’s sick.” And then, before I could respond, the tears came. It was the first time I’d ever seen him cry. I didn’t know what to say, so I simply wrapped my arms around him and held him close. The idea of renting an apartment for his parents suddenly felt impractical. I sat down with our nanny and worked out a compromise. She would continue to come during the day to help with Lily but would sleep at her own home at night.

Ever since Ethan’s father fell ill, they’d been staying at our place. Three times a week, without fail, he’d go for dialysis. Ryan showed up a handful of times at the beginning, but his visits grew less frequent as the weeks went by. By the end of the first month, he had barely been around. He was clever, though, always sending sweet messages to their parents, keeping them smiling and in good spirits. But when it came to money, there was only dead silence. Neither Ethan’s parents nor Ryan brought up finances as if they had a tacit agreement to play dumb. Two months in, every single expense for Ethan’s parents, their food, shelter, and medical bills, had fallen squarely on us. I calculated it: we’d spent over 100 thousand. That was basically everything we had. After all, we’d only been married for a few years and had no financial support from anyone else. On top of that, we had to pay for our mortgage, car loan, and the nanny’s salary. With our daughter now in the picture, we also had to buy formula, diapers, and other baby essentials. We were barely breaking even each month. If this continued, we’d go broke. I told Ethan to ask his parents for money. He hesitated. I told him to ask his brother for help. He hesitated again. Watching him hem and haw, I snapped. “Are you going to ask them or not? If you don’t, I will. “This is ridiculous! All the assets went to Ryan, and now the burden of their illness is dumped on us? “Is your whole family just pretending not to notice because they think they can take advantage of us?” Despite Ethan’s protests, I called Ryan myself. As expected, the moment he realized I was asking for money, he started playing the victim. “You know Josh is only a year old. This is such an expensive time for us. My wife and I just aren’t as capable as you and Ethan. Can’t you two cover Dad’s medical costs for now? We’ll pay you back when we can.” I was speechless at the sheer audacity. “Ryan, let me remind you: your dad has two sons, not just one. When you got married, your parents bought you a house and a car, while we got nothing. Are you seriously suggesting that we bear all the responsibility now that he’s sick? “Since he fell ill, you haven’t contributed a single cent. Ethan’s the one taking him to every hospital visit. “If this is how it’s going to be, I’ll tell Ethan to drive his dad back to your place tomorrow.” That got him. “Please don’t! My wife will kill me if Dad comes back here. And you know how fragile Josh is. What if he catches something from the hospital germs? We can’t take that risk.” Unbelievable. How could these two be so selfish and stupid? So, only their child deserved protection while mine didn’t? I stood firm: no money, no deal. Ryan eventually transferred 20 thousand dollars. It wasn’t much, but at least it covered immediate needs. I thought I’d done a good deed. But instead, I ended up on Ethan’s parents’ blacklist again. It turned out Ethan’s parents were upset with me for asking Ryan for money. How had this become my fault? When I got home from work, Ethan’s father was sitting on the couch, his face dark as a thundercloud. His mother was pacing and sighing dramatically. “Oh, poor Ryan. He’s already struggling, and now he had to scrape together 20 thousand. What’s he going to do? “They don’t even have proper jobs. How could they possibly afford this? “It’s been so long since I’ve seen Josh. I hope the little boy is doing alright.” I ignored her muttering, but my silence seemed to embolden them. Their behavior only escalated as if they thought I was someone they could walk all over. That evening, I didn’t have time to stop by the store, so dinner was simple: two vegetable dishes, one meat dish, and some sliced sausage. I thought it was perfectly reasonable given the circumstances. But Ethan’s father didn’t agree. The moment he saw the table, he threw his fork down in disgust. “If you want us gone, just say so! No need to starve us with this garbage.” I was stunned. What was going on? “Can’t you cook something else? These taste awful, and they’re barely nutritious. You did it on purpose, didn’t you?”

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### In my previous life, my wife attended her childhood best friend’s wedding. On her way back, she decided to race down the highway, pushing her car to its limits. The result? A massive pile-up that left four people dead and one severely injured. When the police called to inform me, I raced to the crash site. The scene was chaos—flames roaring into the night sky, the air thick with smoke and the sound of sirens, distant wailing, and panicked shouting. I waited there for an excruciating 24 hours as the responders worked to clear the wreckage. Finally, a detective approached me, his expression heavy with regret. “We couldn’t recover your wife’s body,” he said. “It’s likely she was consumed by the fire.” For the funeral, I had nothing but a handful of scorched debris to place in her urn. But even before I could arrange a proper service, the families of the victims were at my doorstep, demanding answers. In the blink of an eye, I wasn’t just a grieving husband—I was the man responsible for four lives lost. Four lives and millions in damages that I had no way of paying. Desperation took over. To appease the victims’ families and buy their forgiveness, I threw myself into work. From the age of 30 to 48—eighteen long years—I worked nonstop, pouring every ounce of energy into paying off the compensation. Finally, I cleared all the debts. Finally, the families of the victims forgave me. But by then, my body had given out. Overworked and exhausted, I suffered a stroke that left me bedridden, spending my remaining days confined to a hospital room. And then, just as I thought my suffering couldn’t get any worse, I saw her. My wife. The same wife who had “died” in that fiery crash eighteen years ago. She was standing in the hospital corridor with her childhood best friend—the one whose wedding she’d attended—and a young boy who looked just like her. They were laughing, cheerful, the picture of a happy family. I stared, my mind reeling as the truth hit me like a freight train. The accident. The deaths. The debt. My ruined health. It was all a lie. She had faked her death. All these years, I had been nothing more than a pawn in her twisted game. Rage consumed me. Blood rose in my throat, and I collapsed, choking on it. I died right there, in that cold, sterile hospital room, my vision fading to black with the sound of their laughter echoing in my ears. But when I opened my eyes again, something was different. I wasn’t lying in a hospital bed anymore. I was back. Back on the day of the crash. The day everything began. 0

“Hello, is this Mr. Ryan Chase? This is Officer Daniels from the Highway Patrol. Your wife was involved in a serious accident on the interstate. Please come to the scene as soon as possible.” The officer’s heavy voice echoed in my ear, and I froze for a moment. “Sir? Are you still there?” The officer repeated my name a few more times before I snapped out of it. Memories from my previous life came flooding back like a reel of film. In my past life, I had received this exact same call. I had rushed to the crash site, panic-stricken, only to be greeted by a scene of devastating fire and chaos. I’d cried until my throat was raw, only to find that there was no body to recover. My wife’s remains had been declared destroyed in the blaze. I blamed myself for years, haunted by guilt and sorrow. But in the end, I discovered the truth: her body wasn’t missing because she died in the crash. No, she was alive. She had orchestrated the entire thing to fake her death, steal my money, and run off with her lover. Not this time. This time, I won’t let those two snakes get away with it. I hung up the phone and immediately contacted my lawyer, explaining the situation in detail. To unravel this scheme, I’d need to: Prove my wife, Lily, is still alive. Gather evidence of her cheating so I can protect my assets in the divorce. Hold her accountable for fleeing the scene of an accident that killed four people and injured one. That alone would land her in prison for years. Taking a deep breath, I steadied my emotions. Just as I was about to leave, the front door flew open. Lily’s mother stormed in and threw herself into my arms, sobbing dramatically. “Ryan! Did you see the news? Did the police call you too?” Her voice cracked as she wailed, “What am I going to do? She’s my only daughter! If something happens to her, how will I go on?” In my previous life, this scene had played out exactly the same way. Back then, I had spent hours comforting her, reassuring her that everything would be okay. Looking back now, it was all so ridiculous. What kind of mother cries her heart out but doesn’t shed a single tear? If I hadn’t been so blinded by grief, I might’ve noticed the cracks in her performance. She already knew Lily was fine. She even knew about Lily’s affair. This whole family was rotten to the core. Just thinking about them made me sick. They had lived off me for years, eating my food, drinking my wine, and now they wanted to take everything I had. Not this time. “Ryan, why are you so calm? Lily was in a car accident!” I raised an eyebrow. “The police haven’t confirmed anything yet. Why do you sound so certain that Lily… didn’t make it?” 0

“Are you telling me you somehow know more than the police?” Lily’s mother froze for a moment, her expression betraying a flicker of guilt before she quickly plastered on a defensive look. “I’m just worried!” she snapped, then immediately turned the blame on me, raising her voice. “Ryan, what are you trying to say? Are you hoping my daughter’s dead or something?” “How could you let her drive back to her hometown alone? You’re her husband! Isn’t it your job to keep her safe?” Her words brought back memories of the argument Lily and I had before she left. She had insisted on driving back to her childhood friend’s wedding, even though I told her it wasn’t a good idea. I was swamped with work, trying to finalize a deal with a major client, so I suggested we send a gift instead and visit her hometown together later—maybe even bring her mom along. But no matter how much I reasoned with her, she wouldn’t budge. She blew up at me, yelling over something as trivial as a wedding. In the end, she ignored me completely, grabbed the car keys, and hit the highway without another word. That wasn’t like Lily. She was usually so calm, so sweet-tempered. Looking back, it should have set off alarm bells. But in my past life, I had been blind to all the warning signs. “Ryan, why aren’t you saying anything? Did I hit a nerve?” “Mom,” I said, my tone soft and full of sorrow. “You’ve seen how I’ve treated Lily over the years. I love her—I’d never want anything bad to happen to her.” I reached out and took her hands in mine, squeezing them gently, my face the picture of grief. “I want nothing more than for Lily to come back safe and sound. I’ve already made arrangements. Let’s head to the crash site now.” The moment the words left my mouth, her entire demeanor shifted. The anger and grief she’d been putting on vanished in an instant, replaced by a suspiciously bright smile. It was almost as if she’d forgotten her daughter was supposedly fighting for her life. We left together, her walking ahead of me to the car. Before following, I made a quick call to a private investigator I’d hired earlier. “I need you to keep an eye on the house,” I told him. “If Lily shows up, get photos—anything that proves she’s alive.” Once we were in the car, Lily’s mom kept her back to me, frantically typing away on her phone. “What are you doing?” I asked, glancing over casually. “Just checking the news,” she replied, her tone a little too quick. “I want to see if there are any updates about the crash.” I didn’t call her out on the lie, but I knew exactly what she was doing. She wasn’t looking at the news. She was texting Lily, feeding her updates on my every move. Meanwhile, just outside the house, Lily was already waiting in the shadows with her so-called “best friend,” Nick. Dressed in hoodies and baseball caps, they looked like a couple of amateur thieves. “Who’s that lurking around the front door?” Lily whispered, narrowing her eyes at the stranger near the entrance. “I’ll go check it out.” She started forward, but Nick grabbed her arm. “No! If you show yourself now, it’ll ruin everything. Do you want to blow the whole plan?” She stopped in her tracks, her face twisting with frustration. “What am I supposed to do? My jewelry is still in there—all my valuables!” Nick shook his head, keeping his voice low. “Don’t worry. We’ll get another chance. Besides, if you’re ‘dead,’ Ryan will still have to take care of your mom. Just have her ask for more money later. Problem solved.” Her expression softened, and she let out a small laugh. The two of them slipped away into the night, still clinging to the delusion that they could live off me forever. In my past life, by the time I got home from the crash site, the house had been ransacked. Jewelry, cash, family heirlooms—gone. I had been too overwhelmed by grief and the chaos caused by the victims’ families to even report the theft. Not this time. This time, I was ready for them. I had the investigator watching from the shadows, documenting every move they made. Even if Lily had changed her name and tried to reinvent herself, her face was still the same. One photo of her sneaking around my house, and her entire scheme would come crashing down. This time, Lily, you’ve already lost. By the time I arrived at the crash site, the fire had just been extinguished. The wreckage was still smoldering, the burnt-out remains of several cars charred beyond recognition. The moment Lily’s mom stepped out of the car, she ignored the police and firefighters yelling at her to stay back and ran straight into the wreckage. And somehow, as if guided by some supernatural force, she went directly to Lily’s car. She collapsed to the ground as soon as she got close, wailing like her heart was about to give out. I noticed her phone lying on the ground, clearly dropped in her frantic rush. I bent down to pick it up, and just as I did, a notification popped up on the screen. It was a text from a contact with a gray, anonymous avatar: “We checked the house, but came up empty. Mom, see if you can squeeze more out of Ryan.” My grip tightened on the phone. Lily and her lover, Nick, were shameless. They knew I wouldn’t abandon her mom, no matter what happened. They were using my love for her to milk me for everything I had. I thought back to the last life, to the years after Lily’s “death.” I had been drowning under the weight of lawsuits and compensation claims from the victims’ families. Even then, I still sent her mom $1,000 every month to help with her “living expenses.” Whenever I had a little extra to spare, I sent more. Turns out, every cent of that money must’ve gone straight into the pockets of those two snakes. “Mr. Chase, please help calm her down,” a firefighter called out to me. “We’re doing everything we can to rescue your wife.” “Of course,” I said, carefully setting the phone back where she’d dropped it. I jogged over to Lily’s mom and gently helped her to her feet. “Mom, let’s not get in the way of the rescue team. People might start thinking Lily’s… already gone if you keep crying like this.” She looked up at me, her bloodshot eyes narrowing in suspicion. “What’s that supposed to mean, Ryan? Are you wishing for my daughter’s death?” “Of course not,” I replied calmly. “Every second counts during a rescue. I just want to make sure Lily has the best chance possible.” She seemed unconvinced, but she stood up anyway. I reached out to steady her, but she stumbled, nearly falling back toward the wreckage. “Mom!” I shouted, grabbing her arm just in time. “Are you okay?” She yanked her arm away, glaring at me like I’d insulted her. “Don’t touch me.” Without another word, she wiped her face dramatically and stormed off toward the edge of the police barrier. Her anger didn’t surprise me. She wasn’t upset because I was “wishing ill” on Lily. No, she was mad because I’d interrupted her plan. She’d been trying to plant Lily’s phone in the wreckage, hoping it would be found during the rescue. That phone was full of photos of Lily—and more importantly, sentimental recordings and messages from her to me. In my past life, I had been so consumed by grief that when I finally got that phone back, I spent hours restoring its data, desperate to hold on to any piece of her I could. One of the recordings had shattered me. It was Lily’s “farewell message,” filled with declarations of love and regret. She talked about how much she’d miss me in the next life, how she hoped we’d meet again someday. Every word had cut into me like a knife. I had believed her so completely that I spent the rest of my life carrying the burden of her “death,” paying her family’s bills, and never even considering moving on. But this time, I wasn’t going to let her mom pull the same stunt. I made sure she never got the chance to plant that phone in the wreckage. The rescue operation lasted an entire day. By the end of it, a police officer approached me and Lily’s mom with a somber expression. He handed over a bag of Lily’s personal belongings. “I’m sorry,” he said. “We couldn’t recover a body.” He explained that the damage from the crash was so severe that it was possible her remains had been obliterated in the explosion or consumed entirely by the fire. “Please accept our condolences,” he added. I clenched his hand tightly, tears streaming down my face in large, uncontrollable drops. Behind me, Lily’s mom collapsed to the ground in a dead faint. I knew she was faking it, but just like in my past life, I called for an ambulance and personally took her to the hospital. Back then, I had done the same thing. After dropping her off at the hospital, I had gone straight to a funeral home, bought an urn, and returned to the crash site to collect a handful of ash to put in it. This time, I followed the same steps—except instead of heading to a cemetery afterward, I went straight back to the hospital. As I approached her hospital room, I heard voices coming from inside. “…You were right, Lily,” her mom said, laughing. “Ryan fell for it, hook, line, and sinker. He looked like a ghost when they told him you were dead. What an idiot.” “Don’t worry,” she continued. “I’ll make sure to bleed him dry. He’s too soft to ever say no to me.” “And I’ve already sent someone to stir up the victims’ families,” Lily replied, her voice cold and calculating. “Once they start causing trouble, Ryan will be too busy putting out fires to notice anything else. You can grab whatever’s left at the house while he’s distracted.” My hands curled into fists, my nails digging into my palms as I listened. Five years of marriage. Five years of loyalty, of love, of trust. And this is what it had all been for. Even the victims’ families—the people who had screamed at me, threatened me, and made my life hell—had been manipulated by them. The truth hit me like a bolt of lightning, leaving me breathless and reeling. But this time, things would be different. If Lily wanted to play dead, I’d make sure it became a reality. The good times for them were officially over.

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### On the day of the company’s IPO, the CEO—my fiancé—was supposed to make our relationship official. I thought this would finally be the moment I got the recognition I deserved. But during her big speech, right in front of the entire company, she called someone else on stage. Her real love. A man who had only been with the company for three months. Standing side by side, their fingers intertwined, Jason—her smug, ever-present shadow—looked right at me from the stage and raised an eyebrow, a cruel smirk curling at his lips. “I didn’t plan to make our relationship public so soon,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. “But… someone around me has been so eager for me to make things official. So, here we are.” My girfriend turned to him, her face glowing with affection. She didn’t deny it. She didn’t call out his lie. If anything, her eyes were filled with love, like she couldn’t care less about how humiliating this was—for me. And then, as if that weren’t enough, she announced that she was giving my shares—the ones I’d worked years to earn—to her “true love.” “Without you, this company wouldn’t exist,” she said, her voice dripping with gratitude as she handed over everything I had built. “I hope, Jason, that from now on, you’ll lead our team to even greater success!” The two of them stood there, playing their perfect little act, while the crowd below erupted into applause, cheering them on like they were the perfect couple. And me? I just sat there, quiet, unmoving. I didn’t argue. I didn’t cry. I simply watched. Let them celebrate. Let them enjoy their moment. Because I want to see how they plan to “achieve greater success” without me—this company’s biggest investor and the one who built it from the ground up. Let’s see how far they get without me. 0

When Penelope handed over the stock transfer documents to Jason, I was completely stunned. For a moment, my ears rang so loudly I thought I was dreaming. But as the applause erupted around me, I realized this was all too real. “Wait, what’s going on? Wasn’t Evan supposed to be her fiancé? How did it suddenly become Jason?” “Jason’s only been with the company for what, three months? And now he’s hit the jackpot? Man, he’s set for life now!” “Exactly. Poor Evan, though. Years of blood, sweat, and tears, and he walks away with nothing.” The applause died down, replaced by hushed whispers rippling through the crowd. But none of them made any effort to hide their gossip from me—the person they were clearly talking about. I knew what they were doing. They wanted to humiliate me, to curry favor with the new shareholder. Jason, ever the opportunist, wasted no time. He looked over at me, tugging on Penelope’s sleeve like a child begging for attention. “Evan, are you… upset with Penelope’s decision? Or maybe you’re not happy about me getting the shares?” His voice was dripping with fake humility, like he was trying to play the victim. “I know I haven’t been with the company long, so it’s understandable if you’re not impressed with me. But I’ll work hard to earn your respect. I just hope you can be genuinely happy for me today.” Jason’s little monologue left me speechless. I hadn’t said a word. I was just sitting there quietly, and yet he was acting like I was the villain in his story. It was almost laughable. “Which eye of yours saw me not being happy for you?” I finally asked, my tone calm and sharp. “Evan, what’s with your attitude?” Penelope cut in coldly, her voice laced with irritation. “Jason was just being considerate, and this is how you respond? Don’t forget—he’s your superior now.” Her words hit me harder than I expected, but it wasn’t the first time she’d sided with him. “Superior? A guy who can’t even get basic data right? I’d rather not.” “Shut up!” Penelope snapped, her voice icy. “The last time there was a mistake, it was you who handed Jason the wrong files. He only made an error because of you! Stop blaming others for your carelessness. Why don’t you try taking responsibility for once?” I stared at her silently, the woman I had loved for five years. Her face was the same, but her words… they cut deeper than any knife ever could. In the two months Jason had been with the company, he’d made countless mistakes—three major ones that cost us contracts, and more minor errors than I could count. Every time, Penelope somehow found a way to shift the blame onto me. And now, she was still convinced Jason was some sort of genius. That I wasn’t even worthy of being in the same room as him. Jason, of course, played his part perfectly. He tugged on Penelope’s hand, his voice trembling with fake guilt. “Penelope, please don’t fight with him because of me. I’m just a newbie—if Evan’s upset, it’s my fault. I don’t want to cause trouble.” Penelope’s expression softened immediately. She turned to me, her tone sharp but smug. “Evan’s upset? He’s the one who’s caused the company millions in losses because of his constant mistakes. He should be grateful I’m even letting him keep his position.” She crossed her arms, her voice dripping with condescension. “If he can’t handle it, he’s free to leave. Though let’s be honest—there’s no other company that would offer him the kind of salary and role I’ve given him here.” Her words made me laugh. She really thought this company’s success was all because of her? She didn’t know—or maybe she’d forgotten—that this company only went public because of my connections. Because of my money. And now that she’d gotten what she wanted, she thought she could just toss me aside and take all the credit? I stood up slowly. Jason immediately went pale, his face tightening as though he thought I was about to hit him. Penelope’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why do you both look so nervous?” I said, my voice light but mocking. “If Jason’s so talented, it doesn’t make sense for him to stay in a subordinate role. How about we switch? He can have my position as CEO.” The room fell dead silent. Everyone stared at me, their faces a mix of shock and disbelief. After all, everyone here knew the truth: this company had been built from the ground up by me. I had sacrificed years of my life, pouring everything I had into turning Penelope’s dream into a reality. When the company was nothing but a tiny startup, I was the one working late nights, making every decision, finding every investor. I did it all because I wanted to be her foundation, her support. And now that the company was thriving, everyone assumed Penelope would finally recognize my efforts. That this would be the moment she lifted me up beside her. But instead, she wanted me to hand over everything I’d built. I thought back to the night before the IPO. Penelope had curled up in my arms, talking excitedly about our future. About how we’d finally be able to live openly as a couple. I had stayed awake the whole night, unable to contain my excitement. But when the big day came, the future she had promised wasn’t mine. It was Jason’s. I finally understood: it wasn’t that Penelope didn’t like public displays of affection or grand romantic gestures. She just didn’t like me. The realization was bitter, but it was freeing too. “Fine,” I said simply, brushing past them. Penelope froze, her eyes wide with disbelief. She had expected me to fight, to cling to what little dignity I had left. Instead, I walked out of the room without looking back. Just as I stepped outside, a sleek black Rolls-Royce pulled up to the curb. The driver got out, bowing slightly as he opened the door for me. “Young Master,” he said respectfully, “your father asked me to remind you—it’s time to stop playing around. You need to come home and take over the family fortune.” I smirked, stepping into the car without a second glance at the company behind me. Let’s see how far Penelope and Jason get without me. 0

I’m the only son of the world’s richest man—a name that people can only dream of being associated with. The first time I met Penelope was at the hospital. Her mother had been in a car accident and was in the middle of a messy legal battle with a trust fund kid. As her mom’s attending physician, I got to know Penelope over time. There was something about her resilience, her unshakable determination, that drew me in. But in the end, her mother didn’t make it. Since then, Penelope had harbored a deep distrust of anyone with wealth and privilege. When I decided to pursue her, I made the choice to hide my identity. Later, when Penelope told me she wanted to start her own business, I didn’t hesitate—I quit my job at the hospital and turned down my father’s invitation to return home and take over the family empire. I followed her into the unknown, ready to help her chase her dreams. For five years, my entire life revolved around her. I thought those five years of effort would finally pay off. I thought I’d finally get to hold the hand of the woman I loved, openly and proudly. But when it mattered most, Penelope let me go. “Sir, we’ve arrived.” The driver’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts. After stepping out of the car, I told Uncle Ming to head back. “Once I’ve dealt with everything here, I’ll come home,” I said firmly. When I got back home, the first thing I saw was the cake. It was still sitting on the dining table, completely melted. I had bought it to celebrate tonight—what was supposed to be the night we made our relationship public. Now, it just felt like a slap in the face. Fury bubbled up inside me. Before I realized it, I was flipping the table, smashing the cold, untouched food and the ruined cake to the floor. I didn’t stop there. I started packing my things, determined to leave this house filled with memories of her. Just as I opened the closet, my phone buzzed. It was a message from Jason. I opened it to find a photo. In the picture, Penelope was lying on white bedsheets, completely naked. Her face was flushed, and there were unmistakable marks on her neck. My grip on the phone tightened as rage coursed through me. Before Jason could delete it, I saved the photo and took a screenshot. Right on cue, the next message came: “Oops, sorry, Evan. Sent it to the wrong person. Hope you don’t take it the wrong way.” I let out a bitter laugh. He wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore. Ever since Jason joined the company, he’d been sending me photos of him and Penelope. At first, it was little things—a picture of them holding hands, an arm around her shoulders. But this? This was a whole new level. If this had been a few months ago, I probably would’ve stormed into the hotel and demanded answers from Penelope. But now? I didn’t feel anything. I didn’t reply to Jason’s message. What was the point? I was leaving tomorrow, and it wasn’t like we’d ever cross paths again. Without a second thought, I blocked him and deleted the entire conversation. I booked the earliest flight out for the next afternoon. After packing, I grabbed my suitcase and checked into a hotel near the airport. As soon as I settled into my room, my phone started ringing. It was Penelope. I ignored the first call. And the second. And the third. But by the time she called for the fifth or sixth time, I caved. Out of some leftover sense of loyalty—or maybe just pity—I finally answered. “Evan,” she snapped the moment I picked up. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Her tone was sharp, accusatory. “The shares? That was my decision. Jason had nothing to do with it. If you had a problem, you should’ve said something then and there instead of acting like a petty coward afterward!” I stayed silent, letting her rant. “Acting all gracious in front of the employees—who were you trying to fool? And now you’re throwing a fit over a single photo? What are you, a child? Listen to me carefully: you’d better apologize to Jason. If you don’t, don’t blame me for ignoring you from now on!” Her words were so absurd, I actually laughed. A single photo? She really believed Jason’s lies without a second thought. “Apologize?” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Penelope, if anyone’s going to be apologizing, it’s you. Do it now, and maybe you’ll lose a little less in the end.” “Are you delusional?” she screamed. “You’re out of your mind! Fine, don’t apologize. But let’s see if you’re still so smug when you show up at the office tomorrow!” She hung up before I could respond. I didn’t care. What she didn’t know was that my resignation letter had already been sent to HR. By the time she showed up at work tomorrow, it would be sitting on her desk. And as for her company? I wasn’t going back. 0

The next morning, I was jolted awake by Penelope’s incessant calls. “Evan, why aren’t you at work yet?” In the past, whenever we fought, I’d always wait for her at the office, staying late until she cooled off and finally came back. And when she did, I’d apologize first, find ways to cheer her up, and pretend like nothing ever happened. “Are you still mad about yesterday? It’s just some shares, Evan. I’m the majority shareholder—do you really think I’d shortchange you? You’re with me, aren’t you?” Her tone was casual, as if she thought she could brush the whole thing under the rug. “The company is at a critical stage right now. You think it’s just about wining and dining people to secure deals? Jason’s uncle is well-connected—he’s a high-ranking official in the Department of Land Development. Someone like him won’t help us out of kindness alone. I need leverage to keep him on our side.” I knew about Jason’s uncle. For someone like Penelope—who always wanted a piece of every pie—he was the perfect connection. What surprised me, though, was that she was actually explaining herself to me. Maybe a part of me would’ve understood her logic before. But after everything she’d done, I couldn’t justify her sleeping her way to resources. “Evan, we’ve come so far together. Can’t you try to understand my position?” Her voice softened, something I rarely heard from her. After all, I was always the one who gave in first. Before I could respond, I heard her office door open on the other end of the line. There was a pause, followed by the sharp edge of her anger. “Evan, you’re resigning? Who gave you permission to leave? I’m not approving your resignation! Where are you right now? Get back here immediately!” “I’m not coming back,” I said coolly. “If you think Jason is such a valuable asset, then stick with him.” “Evan, what is that supposed to mean? Tell me where you are right now!” Her voice grew more frantic, but then I heard the familiar ding of an elevator in the background. “Penelope, where are you rushing off to?” Jason’s voice. “Track all flights and train schedules immediately,” Penelope barked. “Evan’s trying to quit. We need to stop him.” Jason hesitated for a moment, then smoothly took her phone from her hand. “Evan,” he said, his tone calm and measured, “is this about me? Are you leaving because of me?” He sounded so sincere, but I knew better. “I know you don’t like me,” he continued. “You’ve never approved of me getting the shares, and if it bothers you that much, I’ll give them all back. I just don’t want you making rash decisions.” “You’ve been with the company for years. Now that we’ve gone public, how will it look to the employees if you quit? You’ll cause unnecessary speculation and damage Penelope’s reputation.” Penelope’s voice cut him off sharply. “This has nothing to do with you, Jason. Stay out of it. Evan, I’ll handle this myself. You need to stay right where you are. This company can survive without anyone—but not without you.” I couldn’t help but laugh. Just as I was about to hang up, Penelope spoke again. “Evan, Jason just apologized to you. What more do you want?” “Apologized?” I scoffed. “And one little apology is supposed to justify taking what’s rightfully mine?” “Yours?” she snapped. “This company belongs to me. I can give shares to whoever I want. What’s yours, exactly? Jason was right—you’ve been sitting in your position as CEO for years, resenting me, haven’t you? Were you planning to push me aside and take over as chairman?” “Wouldn’t I deserve it?” I shot back. “Do you think you’d be where you are today without me?” “Evan, that’s enough,” Jason interjected, faking a sympathetic tone. “Sure, you’ve worked hard, but let’s not forget that Penelope’s leadership is what made this company thrive. You were just following her vision.” “Jason, stop wasting your breath on someone like him,” Penelope said coldly. “People like Evan are never satisfied, no matter how much you give them.” She took a deep breath and continued, her voice icy. “Fine. You want to leave? Go ahead. I approve your resignation. Get out of my sight and don’t ever let me see you again.” I could hear the faint smirk in Jason’s voice as he added, “Are you sure that’s wise? Evan has been by your side for so long.” “Don’t worry,” Penelope replied dismissively. “I know Evan better than anyone. He’ll come crawling back. He’s just throwing a tantrum because he doesn’t like my decisions. Give it three days—he’ll be begging me to take him back.” That was the moment I realized Penelope had always known how much I loved her. She’d always known I couldn’t let her go. And yet, she still chose to hurt me over and over again. For the first time, I felt nothing for her. No anger. No sadness. Just… nothing. The call abruptly ended with a sharp beep. But just before the line went dead, I heard someone in the background frantically say, “Penelope, we have a problem! Several of our major investors just pulled out. Multiple projects are on hold, and we’re looking at an estimated loss of $300 million!”

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My mother-in-law demanded that my husband take her for breast enhancement surgery because she believed he was paying too much attention to me. I calmly explained that, at her age, recovery would be difficult and could lead to complications. However, she flew into a rage, yanking my hair, and accusing me of being afraid that she would outshine me and steal my husband away. Behind my back, she secretly went to a small clinic for the surgery and tragically died on the operating table due to an infection. To my shock, my husband blamed me for not preventing her from going through with it. He even spread rumors to the neighbors, claiming I saw her as a burden and encouraged her to go, resulting in her death. Under the weight of everyone’s anger, my husband stabbed me to death at the clinic’s entrance. Suddenly, I found myself back in time, hearing my husband say his mother was coming from the countryside. I quickly set up a video account with the name “Oppressed Ann Summers’ Mother-in-law Daisy Fields, Give Me an Explanation.” 0

“My mom raised me alone in the countryside; it wasn’t easy. Now she wants to visit us. How can I refuse?” “But it’s entirely up to you, honey. If you don’t want her here, I’ll send her back.” As soon as I woke up, my husband was already trying to emotionally manipulate me. Before I could respond, the doorbell rang. My husband’s eyes lit up with excitement as he rushed to open the door. “James, I’ve missed you so much this past year.” A short, plump woman stood outside, laden with bags and kitchen utensils, her flat lips smacking as she spoke. Seeing her long-lost son, she dropped everything and threw herself into James Anderson’s arms, sobbing. “You’ve married and forgotten your mom. How long has it been since you came home to see me?” My husband, distressed at her tears, held her even tighter, patiently comforting her. After a while, she seemed to notice me, “You must be Ann. We only met at the wedding, and I haven’t seen you since. I was worried James would forget me, so I came. You don’t mind, do you?” Hearing the familiar emotional manipulation, I smiled. In my past life, even though I was unhappy about their deceit, I said nothing. I warmly welcomed her into our home and even tidied up the guest room for her, thinking we’d get along well. After dinner, my husband and I went to the bedroom. We were still in the “honeymoon phase,” only a few months into our marriage. He eagerly closed the door, and just as we lay down, the bedroom door swung open. I quickly grabbed the blanket to cover myself. Seeing his mother intrude, my husband frowned, “Mom, this isn’t the village; you can’t just come and go. You need to knock before entering.” Her face fell, and she began to cry, “Since you got married, you’ve stopped caring for me. Your father is gone; I only have you. Now even you treat me this way. I might as well join your father in death.” She moved to hit her head against the cabinet, and I, forgetting my state of undress, rushed to stop her. After scrutinizing me, she squeezed me, making my face flush. I quickly pushed her away. She deliberately collapsed to the ground, “James, you’ve changed since you were a baby nursing in my arms.” My husband’s expression darkened, accusing me, “How could you lay hands on my mom at her age?” “Mom, why are you saying this? I’ve grown up.” “You’ve forgotten me because I’m old and sagging. Is that it?” I couldn’t hold back, “Mom, James and I are married. We need our own private space.” She shouted, “I don’t understand any of that. I only know I have one son in this world, and I must keep him close. Don’t think I don’t see it. You want to monopolize him. I won’t let that happen.” She continued, “I know about breast augmentation. I’ll get one and be better than you. Then your dream will shatter.” I patiently advised, “Mom, you’re older now. Recovery isn’t the same. Surgery can have complications. No reputable clinic will do it at your age…” She yanked my hair, “You just want me dead so you can have James to yourself. I won’t let that happen. I’ll go tomorrow.” Her farm work-hardened hands pulled out a clump of my hair. She snorted, slammed the door, and left. My husband helped me up, “Don’t mind my mom. She’s been like this since my dad passed. Talk her out of the surgery tomorrow. It’s foolish, and people will laugh.” The next morning, I was rudely awakened. “Ann, was this all your plan?” James glared at me. Before I could ask, “My mom died last night at a small clinic. If you had stopped her, she’d be alive.” Someone alive yesterday was dead. My face went pale, “How… how could this happen?” He threw me a harsh look, “Someone like you wouldn’t feel guilty even after killing.” He slammed the door, leaving me stunned. It took me a while to react. I threw on a coat and left. “Isn’t that Ann? Heard she killed her mother-in-law out of jealousy.” “Yeah, poor lady, raising her son alone after her husband died. Then her son’s wife couldn’t stand her and drove her to get surgery that killed her.” “I never thought Ann was like that. So gentle, but you never know someone truly.” Everyone pointed and whispered. I wanted to defend myself. “How do you know?” one curious person asked. “Her husband said it.” I couldn’t believe James could be like this. I rushed to the clinic, seeing James causing a scene. I went to confront him. He turned with red-rimmed eyes and stabbed me, “You killed my mom. If you’d stopped her, she’d be alive.” People screamed and scattered. The clinic manager hurriedly handed James a bank card, “Mr. Anderson, here’s eighty thousand for you.” People backed away, and James kicked me aside, taking the card. I felt a cold, sharp pain in my chest, helplessly watching James walk away satisfied. All I heard was, “She brought this on herself. She urged her mother-in-law to get surgery.” I hated them, that vile mother and son. But now, I heard the moral coercion again. Excited, I took out my phone and registered a video blogger account. I’ll make them pay for their sins. 0

“Since your dad died, I’m just a burden. Now at my son’s house, my daughter-in-law ignores me.” Seeing I didn’t respond, she started her antics, crying to James. Before they could speak, I had registered the account, smiling as I held her hand. “Mom, I’ve been waiting for you. I told James I wanted you to come. I’m thrilled you’re here.” I took her kitchen utensils and tossed them inside. Then I said to James, “Go clean the guest room for Mom. She needs a clean place to sleep. Mom loves your cooking, so make a few extra dishes tonight.” I went back to the bedroom with a smile. At dinner, I came out slowly. Mother-in-law sat with an apron, glaring, “You’ve got some nerve. No man cooks or washes in our village.” “You married James, you should be a housewife. If you don’t cook, you shouldn’t eat.” Ignoring her intimidation, I heard the doorbell and rushed to open it. “Hello, your order of steamed crab, Buddha Jumps Over the Wall, Boeuf Bourguignon, tomato beef stew, blanquette de veau, Chateaubriand steak, and Bouillabaisse is here. Please give a good review.” I accepted the food, placed it on the table, and took a few bites before remembering, “Mom, did you say something?” “I thought about it and realized you were right, so I’m too embarrassed to eat.” Ignoring my mother-in-law’s attempts to assert dominance, I heard the doorbell and quickly went to answer it. “Hello, your delivery of steamed crab, Buddha Jumps Over the Wall, Boeuf Bourguignon, tomato beef stew, blanquette de veau, Chateaubriand steak, and Bouillabaisse has arrived. Please leave a positive review.” I smiled as I accepted the food, placed it on the table, and took a few bites before it suddenly hit me, “Mom, were you talking to me earlier?” “I thought about what you said and found it reasonable, so I decided I should apologize for eating.” Seeing that I wasn’t easy to manipulate, my mother-in-law’s face darkened. “Are you trying to chase me away? If you don’t want me here, I’ll leave.” I bit into the crab, enjoying its flavor, “Mom, are you leaving already? At least have a meal before you go. If you have too many things to carry, I’ll call Uber Freight to help with your pots and pans.” My mother-in-law pursed her lips in anger, “You… you just don’t want me here! You’re afraid I’ll take James away, so you’re targeting me?” I ignored her as she began crying dramatically, kneeling before me. “I know you don’t like me, but we’re family now. Why can’t you accept me? I just wanted a meal a day. Now I see I made a mistake coming here, so I’ll leave.” She ended with a gesture of apology, bowing her head to the ground. To gain James’s sympathy, she hit her head hard, leaving a bruise and even some blood. She occasionally glanced up to gauge our reactions. Before James could respond, I quickly took off my slipper and rushed over to her. I pressed her face with the slipper and slapped her a few times. “Alright, whoever you are, get off my mother-in-law.” 0 “Ann, what are you doing?” James stood in shock, seeing my actions and about to intervene. While my mother-in-law was still stunned, I slapped her a couple more times. “Still not coming down? Watch me slap you out.” Satisfied with her swollen face, I stood up. “You dare to possess my mother-in-law? Now you’ll know my strength. Let’s see you act up again.” My mother-in-law lay on the ground, her face red and swollen, pointing at me with trembling fingers before fainting in anger. This little thing sure has a temper. Seeing James looking at me unhappily, I attached a camera to my clothes. “What is that?” I adjusted the lens. “A handy tool.” A handy tool to reveal your true selves.

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I am locked in a narrow, airless basement after my adopted brother Lucas has an allergic reaction, and my three older sisters blame me for it. I pound on the door, begging them to let me out. The eldest sister, a business tycoon, turns around before leaving. Her face is icy as she scolds me, “You’ve been bullying Lucas for ages, but knowing he’s allergic to seafood, you still made him eat it? You did that on purpose to hurt him. Stay in there and think about what you’ve done!” The second sister, a rising pop star, and the third, a gifted artist, both snort in disdain, “You’re so vile, and yet you still try to act innocent. Just stay there and suffer!” With that, they rush off, holding Lucas, who is trembling in their arms, and head straight to the hospital. As the oxygen slowly runs out, I struggle to breathe. Every inhale becomes harder, and I feel myself slipping away in this suffocating basement. Three days later, when my sisters return from the hospital, they finally remember me. But by then, I have already died from oxygen deprivation in this narrow, locked space.

I suffocated to death in that basement. When I woke up, I found myself standing beside my three sisters, watching them from a place I couldn’t reach. They had just returned to the villa. The eldest, Serena Hayes, and the second sister, Celeste Hayes, were holding my adopted brother, Lucas, comforting him like a little prince. “Thank God we got to your hospital in time. That’s the only reason you’ve bounced back so quickly,” Serena said with a soft smile. My third sister, Annalise Hayes, seemed even more concerned, her voice full of care. “The doctor says you’re still weak. You need to really build your strength back up.” As she spoke, Annalise casually grabbed a huge chunk of meat and placed it in Lucas’ bowl. A servant hesitated and then spoke up, “Misses, Mr. Liam hasn’t made a sound for three days in the basement…” Serena scoffed, her patience running thin. “Today’s the day Lucas gets out of the hospital, so why bring up that troublemaker?” The servant tried to speak again but was quickly silenced by the cold, piercing glares from Celeste and Annalise. “That little brat must’ve known Lucas had an allergy and deliberately made him seafood oatmeal. I can’t believe I thought he was finally accepting Lucas—turns out, he was plotting all along!” Serena’s voice dripped with disdain. Lucas, putting on a terrified face, spoke up in a small, trembling voice, “Liam’s being punished because of me. He’s been stuck down there alone for so long… he won’t be angry when he comes out, will he?” Serena’s expression turned cold, but her voice softened as she reassured him, “Don’t worry, Lucas. We were just too soft on him. We never disciplined him properly. After this, he won’t dare mess with you again.” As she spoke, Serena absentmindedly pulled out her phone, refreshing our chat history. But it was clear—no messages from me in three days. Not a single call. Her face darkened. “This brat… It’s been days, and he hasn’t even bothered to check on you? Not even one message?” Serena snapped, barely holding back her anger. At that moment, Lucas reached out, gently holding Serena’s hand, and spoke in a soft, pitiful tone, “Please don’t let Liam misunderstand. I don’t want to take anything from you, I just want your attention.” Serena immediately put her phone down, her expression full of sympathy as she patted Lucas’ head. “You’re so sweet, Lucas. You’re nothing like him. He’s just a heartless, ungrateful little snake.” Celeste, remembering me, cast a cold glance in my direction. “Yeah, this guy would hurt his own family just to get attention? How low can you get?” Annalise agreed with a fierce nod, sneering, “He’s been locked away for three days. Unless he’s ready to kneel and apologize to Lucas, I’ll kick him out of this house myself!” I stood silently to the side, hearing their words. It was almost laughable. But no one noticed me, not even as I stood there, helpless and invisible. Ever since our parents died, my three sisters had focused all their love and energy on me. When I wanted someone my age to play with, they adopted Lucas from an orphanage. I accepted him wholeheartedly, but Lucas, in front of my sisters, repeatedly framed me, causing them to pull away further each time. This time, they didn’t even hesitate. They locked me away in that tiny, suffocating basement. I struggled, but the air in the basement grew thinner and thinner, each breath more labored than the last. I knocked on the door, desperately pleading for them to let me out. But all I received were cold stares and harsh words. “What’s the point of crying out now? This is all your fault. If you hadn’t done what you did, Lucas wouldn’t have suffered so badly. We’ve been too good to you, letting you bully him. Stay in there and think about it!” Celeste sneered. As she spoke, Celeste personally wrapped chains around the door, and Annalise shoved heavy objects in front of it, blocking any last hope of escape. Now, watching Lucas fake a smile at my sisters, I couldn’t help but feel a bitter laugh bubble up from deep inside. The world’s most devoted brother had been killed by his own sisters.

Lucas tugged gently at Serena’s sleeve, his voice trembling as he spoke, “Don’t be mad at him. It’s my fault, really. I’m the one who’s weak, and Liam didn’t mean to hurt me. Please don’t blame him.” Serena’s face went cold as she shot him a sharp look. “This kid… We spoiled him rotten. How did we end up with someone so selfish, so arrogant?” Celeste’s eyes burned with rage. “He’s only getting worse. If it weren’t for him, Lucas wouldn’t be in this condition!” Lucas then intentionally pulled up his sleeve, revealing the faint red marks from his allergic reaction, still visible on his skin. Annalise immediately reached out, gently touching the redness with a soft, concerned expression. “Does it still hurt, Lucas?” Lucas lowered his head, his voice barely above a whisper. “No… it doesn’t hurt anymore…” Celeste’s anger flared. “If we hadn’t rushed him to the hospital, Lucas could’ve been in real danger. And after all this time, Liam hasn’t even bothered to send one message to check on him? What’s wrong with him?” Serena’s anger was almost palpable. “Get that little brat in here now, and make him apologize. I don’t care if he’s too proud. He’s going to apologize to Lucas.” Celeste and Annalise both nodded in agreement, their voices filled with fury. “He wouldn’t dare act this way if he wasn’t hiding behind us. Now he has to pay the price. Make him apologize, or else we’ll take it even further.” When Serena turned to the servant, her voice was sharp as steel. “Why are you still standing there? Go get that ungrateful brat. And bring the punishment stick. If Liam hadn’t put seafood in that oatmeal, Lucas wouldn’t have been in the hospital for three days.” “It’s time to set things straight and remind this family what discipline really means!” The servant didn’t dare argue, rushing off to follow the orders. I couldn’t help but smile bitterly. My sisters didn’t even bother to look into the truth before blaming me. Three days ago, Lucas had wanted some oatmeal, so I thought I’d make him something special. He handed me a small packet of seasoning, asking for that specific flavor. I tasted it, and it was just simple seafood oatmeal. Who could’ve known it would trigger his allergy? Even Serena, the business mogul, couldn’t see through something so simple. Wasn’t that a sign of favoritism? In their eyes, I would always be less important than Lucas. My heart sank further. But it didn’t matter now. I was already dead in that basement. They could give all their love to Lucas from now on. “Miss, we’ve been calling Mr. Liam for a long time. He’s not responding… We can’t hear any breathing from inside.” Serena’s frown deepened. She stood up abruptly, her face a mask of fury. “What’s he playing at now? Does he think he can ignore us just because he’s too embarrassed to apologize? He really doesn’t realize he almost killed Lucas?” Lucas tugged at Serena’s sleeve again, speaking in a fake, sorrowful tone. “It’s okay. I’m just an orphan. I don’t deserve Liam’s apology.” Serena’s anger boiled over. “So this is his pathetic little game to win sympathy? Does he think I can’t see through him? He thinks he can pretend to be mute and get away with it? Looks like my punishment was too light! Go get him, drag him out, and let’s see how he tries to avoid this now. He’s going to apologize to Lucas, and he’ll do it on his knees!”

I couldn’t help but follow my three sisters, each step making my heart sink even further. Their anger was a storm, and soon, we had reached the door to the basement. “Liam, you think you can hide in there and stay quiet and somehow escape punishment?” Serena’s voice was sharp, full of fury. But there was no sound coming from the basement. Celeste’s face grew darker, her voice cold. “Liam, what are you still pretending? Get out here and apologize to Lucas! Don’t think you can get away with hurting him just because you’ve hidden yourself away, turned off your phone, and cut us out!” Annalise’s eyes blazed with anger. “Liam, you’ve really outdone yourself. You can’t stand it when we show Lucas any attention, so now you’re pretending to be silent just to mess with us? You think hiding in that basement is going to make us back down?” Still, nothing came from the basement. Serena turned to the trembling staff, her voice icy and accusing. “Why are you all shaking? Tell me the truth—did this little brat bribe you? Did you secretly let him out?” Celeste scoffed, her tone dripping with disdain. “With his attitude, I wouldn’t be surprised if he couldn’t handle being locked up and had these servants open the door for him the moment we were gone.” Annalise’s expression was filled with deep disappointment. “How could you do this to Lucas? You almost killed him, and now you won’t even own up to it. Is this really the brother I grew up with? Do you really think we only have you to care about?” One of the servants finally spoke, voice trembling, “Miss, we didn’t let him out without your permission. Mr. Liam really has been locked in the basement for three whole days.” Annalise’s gaze flickered to the basement, her unease suddenly apparent. She stepped forward and yanked on the door, but it wouldn’t budge. “Liam, seriously? I’ve unlocked the door, and you’re still refusing to come out?” I stood there, staring at the twisted basement door, bitterly smiling. I had tried to survive by banging on the door, desperate for air, but it was too solid, and I couldn’t get it open. No crack, no escape. I was left to suffocate, trapped in that dark place. Sisters, if you see me like this—my body cold and lifeless—could you at least show me a little love? Could you bury me beside Mom and Dad? Serena grew more impatient. She kicked the door with all her might. The twisted door cracked open, and a putrid stench wafted out. One of the servants, shuddering, spoke in a terrified whisper, “It smells like… a corpse.” Both Celeste and Annalise stormed forward, their faces filled with fury. “A corpse smell? Don’t be ridiculous! That little punk must have snuck out already and thrown in a dead rat to mess with us. Do you think we’re that stupid?” All three sisters kicked the door in unison, shaking the entire basement. With a loud crash, the door finally gave way, revealing the dark, claustrophobic space—and the overpowering stench of decay that followed.

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