At the painting competition, I publicly announced my withdrawal and stepped off the stage amid the stunned silence, calmly watching my own student win first place with a work she had copied from me, then kiss my boyfriend in front of everyone and mock me as a woman no one could ever love. They thought this was my defeat. What they did not know was that I had already been reborn. Reborn after the previous life in which she stole everything from me and ultimately caused my death. This time, I am standing below the stage only to let her climb high enough—so I can personally drag her back down. “Eliza! What are you spacing out for?” The studio door burst open as my best friend Chloe rushed in, waving her phone. I snapped my eyes open, taking in the familiar easel and the unfinished thesis project resting on it. I had been reborn. Reborn to the day before Vanessa plagiarized my graduation work and publicly exhibited it. “Quick, look at the school’s online forum! That two-faced snake Vanessa is stirring up trouble again!” My gaze fell on Chloe’s phone screen. The pinned post had an eye-catching title: “To All Fellow Art Lovers: When Your Closest Junior Steals Your Inspiration, Where Do You Go From Here?” In the post, without naming names, she told the story of a hardworking senior whose work was shamelessly copied by a genius junior. Even without explicitly stating who the genius junior was, everyone knew it was me. I was the art prodigy of our year, hailed as a genius since enrollment. Vanessa had even included comparison images in her post. One was her so-called competition entry, and the other was the archive of my thesis project that I had only submitted to the school’s online submission system yesterday. The composition, colors, brushstrokes, and even the innovative “stippling technique” I had only first proposed in my graduation thesis—everything was identical. It wasn’t just similar; it was an exact copy! The comments section below had exploded. “I always thought something was off about that Eliza, acting all high and mighty. Turns out she’s just a plagiarist!” “So much for being an art prodigy. She probably just had some shady deal with the instructors!” “Vanessa is too kind. If it were me, I’d report her and get her expelled!” “Poor Vanessa, sending hugs. People like this are a disgrace to the art world. They should just get out!” The familiar words pierced my heart like poisoned daggers. In my previous life, it was this very post that sent my life spiraling into an endless hell. I was vilified by thousands and investigated by the school. Professor Bennett’s gaze changed from initial admiration to utter disappointment. Meanwhile, Vanessa built her success on my ruin. She won the National Young Artists Gold Medal with my painting, signed with a top gallery, and enjoyed limitless glory. I was branded a plagiarist, and finally jumped from the roof of this very studio. Looking at Vanessa’s innocent face on the phone screen, I slowly clenched my fist. Seeing my expression change, Chloe was on the verge of tears: “Eliza, say something! Let’s go to the professor right now and show her all your drafts and evidence! We can’t let Vanessa bully you like this!” Evidence? In my previous life, I had presented all the evidence. From my initial inspiration notes to every compositional sketch, to detailed technical analysis. But it was useless. Vanessa always managed to produce even earlier evidence. She could even articulate my creative concepts eloquently before I did. “Eliza?” Chloe shook me anxiously. I looked up and gave her a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, Chloe.” This time, I was determined to find out how she did it!

Chloe and I walked towards the school’s art gallery. From a distance, we could see Vanessa standing in front of the painting, surrounded by Professor Bennett and several other faculty members. She was passionately explaining her creative concept. “So, I used the stippling technique here to represent the moment when light and shadow break apart and recombine, symbolizing hope in the midst of despair…” Her words matched my written explanation verbatim. The surrounding professors nodded in approval, their eyes full of admiration. “This girl Vanessa not only has talent but also works hard.” “Indeed, the depth of thought in this painting surpasses many of her peers.” My arrival disrupted the harmonious scene. All eyes turned to me, and whispers broke out. “She has the nerve to show up?” “Look at her expression, not a hint of remorse.” Seeing me, Vanessa immediately stopped her explanation, her face showing surprise and sadness. “Eliza, you’re here.” She walked over, her eyes instantly reddening. “I know you’re talented and really wanted to make a breakthrough with your thesis project, but you can’t just plagiarize! If you had talked to me earlier, I could have helped you.” Her words sounded sincere, portraying herself as a betrayed yet still kind and forgiving victim. Professor Bennett looked at me with disappointment in her eyes. “Eliza, you may be naturally gifted, but that doesn’t mean you can take shortcuts. What’s this about? Have all the praises gone to your head?” “I remember you saying your dream was to hold a solo exhibition. Is this the kind of plagiarized work you want to exhibit?” She glanced at me, her tone full of frustration: “How many talented people have wasted their potential by not putting in the effort later on? Do you want to become another example of wasted talent?” I looked at Vanessa, who was smugly watching me, all traces of her previous pitiful act gone. But I ignored both the professor and Vanessa. In my previous life, I would have been angry, argued, and become hysterical. But now, I wouldn’t foolishly try to prove my innocence again. Chloe still wanted to speak up for me, but I held her back, shaking my head at her. We left the gallery, with Chloe fretting anxiously by my side. I assured her I was fine and sent her on her way. Back in my studio, I began to reflect on the whole incident and formed some suspicions. I locked all the doors and windows of the studio, drew the thickest blackout curtains, and even found a roll of packing tape to seal all the gaps. Then, I set up my easel and began to create. I painted quickly, completing the work in two hours. I didn’t leave the studio, to prevent Vanessa from sneaking in to take photos. Early the next morning, I checked my phone. Vanessa had updated her Snapchat status at 4 AM. It was an identical inspirational sketch, with core elements and techniques completely in my style! The caption read: “Pulled an all-nighter painting, felt like I was going to die, but glad the result is satisfying. Goodnight, world.” Below were rows of likes and comments like “You worked so hard” and “Even geniuses need to put in effort”. I frowned. If no one had broken into the studio, then what could it be? Could there be hidden cameras in the studio?

I bought a professional signal detector online and carefully checked every corner of the studio, even every socket. The result was nothing. But to be safe, I packed up my art supplies and took a cab to a rented study room far from the school. I chose a fully enclosed private room, ensuring there couldn’t possibly be any pre-installed monitoring devices. This time, I painted a still life titled “Broken Plaster Cast”. I deliberately used some unconventional color choices and light-shadow treatments, ideas I had only recently come up with and never mentioned to anyone. After finishing, I didn’t take it with me but locked it in the study room’s storage locker. However, that very night. In an art group chat full of industry bigwigs, Vanessa posted a more refined version of the same themed painting, under the guise of seeking advice. It was exactly “Broken Plaster Cast”. She posted the image even half an hour before I had finished my painting! The bigwigs in the group lavished praise on her, complimenting her bold ideas and mature techniques. A few sharp-eyed ones recognized my signature style and began to whisper. “This style, doesn’t it look a bit like that Eliza from the art school?” “It does look similar, but Vanessa’s version is more refined and the concept more mature. Guess Eliza is copying Vanessa again? She does have a history of it.” “Young people these days, always looking for shortcuts.” I was even more confused and bewildered. How exactly was Vanessa stealing my work? Sitting alone in the empty studio, I reviewed the entire incident. Physical isolation was ineffective, signal blocking was ineffective. This almost ruled out all conventional methods of theft. I recalled the interviews Vanessa gave after winning the gold medal in my previous life. She spoke eloquently, but whenever asked about the details of her creative process and inner journey, her answers always seemed hollow and superficial. Like a poor actor reciting lines that didn’t belong to her. Back then, I just thought she wasn’t good at expressing herself. Now I realize, perhaps she simply didn’t know what to say. Because she only had the result, not the process. A somewhat absurd idea formed in my mind. I messaged Chloe, sharing my thoughts with her, and then began to implement my plan. I sat in front of the easel, but didn’t take out my brushes or set up a canvas. I just closed my eyes and began to conceptualize a painting in my mind. I envisioned a black cat crouching on a windowsill, with a gloomy sky threatening rain behind it, and lightning breaking through the clouds in the distance. The overall tone of the image was somber, full of tension. In my mind, I also added a unique emerald green color to the cat’s eyes. The next day, Chloe burst into my studio again. Her face was full of anger, “Eliza! Look at this, Vanessa is inhuman!” She slammed her phone down on my table. On the screen was Vanessa’s latest social media post, published in the early hours of the morning. It was an exquisitely beautiful oil sketch. It depicted exactly a black cat crouching on a windowsill, with the cat’s eyes shimmering with that unmistakable emerald green I had imagined! Her caption was casual and smug: “Couldn’t sleep, just a little inspiration~ Especially love that green in the cat’s eyes, doesn’t it look like an emerald?” I stared at the painting. All the mist in my mind cleared at this moment. So that’s how it was! Chloe, seeing me actually smile, stomped her foot in frustration. “Eliza, what are you smiling about? She’s copying you! This time she’s copying from inside your head! It’s like witchcraft! What on earth are we going to do?” I shook my head: “No, Chloe.” She’s not just copying the ideas in my head. It’s more direct! I laughed freely: “It’s great that she can do this!” Vanessa, since you love copying so much. This time, I’ll let you copy to your heart’s content!

I immediately called Professor Bennett. When the call connected, her impatient voice came through. “Eliza, have you thought it through? Are you here to admit your mistake, or are you still being stubborn?” “Professor,” I said calmly, “my thesis project is ready.” Professor Bennett paused: “You’ve painted another one?” “Yes.” “I hope to hold a small personal exhibition in the school’s art gallery before the National Young Artists Gold Medal Competition starts the day after tomorrow.” Professor Bennett was silent. She probably thought I had gone mad. At a time when the plagiarism scandal was at its peak, not only was I not laying low, but I was actively stepping into the spotlight. “Are you sure?” she asked. “I’m sure,” my tone was firm, “I hope you and Vanessa will definitely attend.” The next day, my requested personal exhibition was held as scheduled in the school’s art gallery. Students and teachers who came to see the commotion packed the small exhibition hall. Vanessa stood at the front of the crowd, arm in arm with Professor Bennett, her eyes full of disdain for me. Everyone wanted to see what tricks this plagiarist would pull. Under the spotlight of all eyes, I walked onto the stage carrying a painting covered with a black cloth. I placed the painting on the easel, then lifted the black cloth. On the canvas was an exquisitely beautiful work. A low murmur of surprise rippled through the crowd. This painting’s technique was masterful, the concept ingenious, far surpassing previous works. Vanessa’s expression changed slightly the moment she saw the painting. I could see the greed and jealousy flashing in her eyes. I surveyed the audience, then did something that left everyone stunned. I took out a lighter, lit it, then brought the flame close to a corner of the canvas. “Eliza! What are you doing!” Professor Bennett was the first to react, shouting at me sternly. The flame licked the canvas, quickly spreading. A masterpiece that had crystallized blood and sweat turned to ashes before everyone’s eyes. The audience was silent at first, then erupted into thunderous applause. “Holy shit! This is performance art!” “Using destruction to interpret rebirth? This concept is brilliant!” “I knew Eliza was a genius. Her mind works differently from ours!” Most people thought this was a carefully planned performance art piece, an artistic response to the plagiarism accusations. They didn’t understand it, but they were deeply shocked. Only Vanessa turned pale, screaming out: “Are you crazy? Eliza, how dare you? How dare you treat art like this!” She panicked. Because only she knew that destroying my painting was equivalent to destroying hers. The professors and classmates who had just praised me also changed their expressions, saying I was seeking attention and disrespecting art. I dusted off my hands and looked at the pale-faced Vanessa. “Why so agitated?” I curled my lips, “My painting is burned, but yours is still there, right?” “Why don’t you bring out the work you prepared for the competition now, and let everyone have a look?” Vanessa was so stunned by me that she couldn’t say a word, her eyes darting around as she stammered. “My painting… is still undergoing final adjustments, it’s not… not finished.” “Oh?” I feigned surprise, “The competition starts tomorrow, and it’s not finished? That won’t do.” Backed into a corner, Vanessa lashed out in anger: “Eliza! What are you up to? Constantly asking about my work, are you still trying to plagiarize me?!”

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I found a cat’s pregnancy scan in my husband’s car. The cat was named “Luna,” and the owner listed was my husband, Julian Vance. I froze. I’m allergic to cat fur, and we’d never had a cat at home. I called him: “Since when did you get a cat?” He chuckled. “There’s a stray cat pregnant outside the office building. I felt bad for her, so I drove her to the vet. I know you’re allergic, so I’ve been keeping her at the office.” I hung up without a word. The scan report stated that “Luna” was a long-haired Persian cat. But I remembered the cat the company adopted was a short-haired tabby. 1 I drove to the pet clinic listed on the scan report. “My friend asked me to pick up Luna’s health records.” The receptionist pulled up Luna’s file for me. Luna’s Dad: Julian Vance. Luna’s Mom: Melanie Rivers. Last year, out of pure sympathy, I had gone against protocol and hired Melanie as an intern for the logistics department. She came from a humble background and desperately needed a chance. Now, it seemed, her “internship” had long since been “promoted.” My chest ached. I went straight to the office to confront Julian. But when I got to his office, he wasn’t there. Before I resigned to care for our twin girls, I was the company’s Vice President. My office was right next to his. I hadn’t worked in a long time, caring for our daughters. Julian had once said: “This office will always be yours, waiting for you to come back anytime.” But now, I heard a woman’s soft moans coming from my old office. Ignoring Sarah, his assistant, who tried to stop me, I kicked the door open. “Julian, you’re back!” Melanie was sitting on a large bed. The moment she saw me, she shrieked and dove under the covers. I was stunned. This wasn’t an office at all. It was clearly a private, luxurious suite. A huge round bed sat by the window, and there was even a vanity and a wardrobe. “Mr. Vance is still in a meeting, maybe you could…” Sarah mumbled behind me, not daring to look up. I glanced at Melanie, trembling under the covers, and my eyes widened. The duvet was visibly mounded over her belly. So, my husband wasn’t just keeping a pregnant cat. He was keeping a pregnant woman. I strode over, yanked the covers off, and glared at her face: “How far along are you?!” Tears streamed down Melanie’s face, and in seconds, she burst into desperate sobs: “I’m so sorry, Char!” “Charlotte, you’re scaring her!” A furious force shoved me aside, a blur of motion in my vision. By the time I registered what happened, Julian was holding Melanie, gently patting her back: “Don’t be afraid, I’ll protect you.” It was so utterly ironic! Just this morning, before he left, he’d nuzzled my face and told me I was working hard taking care of our daughters, promising to take us to Disneyland in a few days. Now, he was holding another woman, carefully avoiding her swollen belly, comforting her, promising to protect her. A wave of overwhelming despair washed over me. I felt dizzy, reaching back for support, but I knocked over a photo frame instead. In the picture, Julian was kneeling before Melanie, his large hands cradling her pregnant belly, his gaze tender as he looked up at her. I looked at him, my voice ice-cold: “Julian, you got another woman pregnant and let her live in my office!” Melanie was startled again, her face pale as she clutched her stomach. “Julian, I hurt…” “Melanie, what’s wrong! Call an ambulance!” Julian panicked, immediately sweeping her into his arms and yelling at his assistant. He acted as if I wasn’t even there. I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed his arm forcefully: “You’re not going anywhere until you explain this!” Julian yanked his arm free, careful not to hurt Melanie: “Explain what? I’m telling you, Melanie is nine months pregnant! If anything happens to our baby, I’ll never forgive you!” With that, he carried Melanie out, leaving me standing there alone. I gritted my teeth, then started smashing everything in that room. 2 It was dark by the time I got home. Maria, our nanny, had put both my daughters to sleep. I gently stroked their cheeks. The cold sweat and fury began to dissipate, and my heart slowly calmed. These were my twin girls, born after countless ovulation shots and three rounds of IVF. Five years ago, Julian came into the delivery room with me. He’d started by cracking jokes to help me relax, but then he cried more bitterly than I did: “They’re two girls… Will daughters have to give birth someday too? No, Char, we’re not having any more kids. Our daughters won’t have to either…” Back then, I truly believed I had found the most wonderful man in the world. For the next five years, he was consistently loving, our affection as strong as ever. But today, all those illusions of love shattered. My poor daughters, they had no idea their father was about to have another child. Suddenly, I remembered the gold chain on Melanie’ wrist. Wasn’t that the one I’d prepared for my daughters ever since they were born? My heart pounded. I rushed to the study, opened the safe, and saw my jewelry box was gone! My heart sank. I called a friend: “Help me find someone’s address, fast… I need it now!” Half an hour later, I drove to a secluded mountain villa in the suburbs. A familiar face opened the door. It was Maria, the nanny who had been taking care of me and our two daughters since I was pregnant. Because the girls adored her, I paid her a high salary, intending to keep her until they grew up. But she had said her son was getting married and resigned last year. Turns out, Julian had brought her here to care for his next child. “Ms. Hayes…” My face hardened. I pushed past her and walked straight inside. In the room nearest the door, the pregnant American Shorthair cat was stretching. This room was twice the size of Julian’s office, filled with cat supplies—a specially designed cat haven. I continued walking, hearing Julian’s soft murmur: “It’s okay now. Didn’t the doctor say the baby is healthy?” “All the stuff she broke can be bought again… It was just a photo frame, I’ll just have the photo studio make you another one, alright?” Through the crack in the door, I saw Melanie nestled in his arms, her finger tracing circles on his Adam’s apple: “But I’m so scared she’ll come after me again. She won’t tolerate me…” Julian chuckled softly: “What are you afraid of? When have I ever let you suffer?” My fingernails dug deep into my palms. I spoke, my voice cold: “Julian, give me back the fund I set aside for my daughters’ future.” Melanie’s eyes widened. She let out a shriek and buried her face in his chest. Julian’s tenderness instantly turned to annoyance. He shielded her behind him, grabbed a bottle of makeup from the table, and threw it at me: “What are you doing here? Melanie is almost due. Can’t whatever you want to say wait until after she’s given birth?!” In ten years of marriage, he had only lost his temper with me twice. Both times were today, both were for Melanie, and this time, he’d even laid hands on me. The bottle hit my forehead. I felt a dizzying pain. “I’ll say it again. Give me back my daughters’ nest egg, or I’m calling the police.” Julian frowned, seeing the blood trickling down my forehead, but before he could speak, Melanie suddenly knelt on the floor, clutching her pregnant belly, frantically taking off her bracelets and necklaces: “Ms. Hayes, I’ll give it all back! I’m sorry, I was shameless, you can hit me or scold me, but my baby is innocent, please, let my baby go…” Julian tenderly helped her up. “Why are you talking about yourself like that? What if the baby hears you?” Then he looked at me, his eyes cold and devoid of warmth: “Charlotte, since you know everything, I won’t hide it anymore.” “Melanie is carrying a son, my son! Your two daughters are useless, they don’t need any future fund. I’ve given that whole box to Melanie.” “But don’t make a big deal out of it. Melanie isn’t asking for an official title. As long as you don’t go after her and my son, you’ll always be Mrs. Vance.” His son. My daughters. So, that’s how clearly he distinguished between boys and girls. He no longer loved me, and certainly not our daughters. What was the point of staying with him? I took two steps forward, picked up the custom-made diamond bracelet, which was now broken in two, and said coldly. “No need. Since she’s the mother of your son, of course, I’ll step aside.” “Julian, we’re getting a divorce.” Then, under Melanie’s horrified gaze, I dialed 91

“Hello, I’d like to report a crime. Someone intentionally damaged my private property. I have the perpetrators and the evidence right here. Please send officers immediately!” 3 The police arrived at the villa quickly. They collected evidence, investigated, and took statements. The farce ended with Julian agreeing to compensate me for the damages, then leaving with Melanie, as if nothing had happened. By the time I returned home, it was already broad daylight. I saw the empty safe, and Julian’s sneer still echoed in my ears: “Divorce? Could you really bear it?” “You chose to abandon a pre-arranged match with a prominent family, and broke ties with your parents to marry me. Now if you divorce, you’ll be the laughingstock of the Hayes family.” He was right. When we married, Julian was just a struggling artist, while the Hayes family was a titan in the cosmetics industry. For him, I had a huge fallout with my family. Now, if I divorced him, and for such a scandalous reason as infidelity, my family relatives would surely mock me mercilessly. But he seemed to have forgotten, when I chose him back then, I never cared about what others thought. Now, I was still the same me. Only he had changed. While discussing divorce papers with my lawyer, I noticed Melanie had updated her SnapChat. She was wearing two newly bought gold bracelets, smiling brightly. [My baby has nothing to fear, Daddy is our knight, he will protect us.] Below, Julian replied: “From now on, my son and I will protect you. I’ll buy you even more gold.” When I first hired her, her SnapChat had always blocked me. But Julian’s protection had clearly emboldened her, making her audacious enough to flaunt their affection right in front of me. I immediately screenshot it and sent it to my lawyer. The lawyer, in turn, sent me a stock transfer certificate. The contents were truly shocking. The cosmetics company, which had grown large thanks to my resources and patents, had 70% of its shares in Julian’s hands. He had transferred them all to Melanie seven months ago! She was now the company’s largest shareholder! My heart pounded. I quickly clicked on Melanie’ SnapChat, scrolling back through her posts. All her posts from the past year were now public, as if intentionally revealed for me to see. [Julian gave me the company, said it was my ‘engagement gift.’ He’ll run it for me, but I have him, that’s all I need, why would I need a company anyway.] [Luna is pregnant too! Julian was so happy, said it was double good news, he gave all his houses to me, and even said his daughters’ houses could be for Luna’s babies.] [Luna is the happiest little cat in the world, with four little babies in her belly, each getting their own penthouse.] Scene after scene flashed before my eyes. A month ago, Julian had asked for the property deeds, saying he’d found two adjacent villas and wanted to trade our daughters’ four penthouse apartments for them. I wanted to go see them with him, but he made many excuses to put it off. Turns out, he’d given the properties to the four kittens in Luna’s belly. And all the houses under our names, and that company, had become Melanie’s gifts. The fund I’d saved for my daughters had become her jewelry. He had given her everything. My daughters and I were left with nothing. My phone rang. Before the lawyer could speak, I gritted my teeth and said, word by word: “Collect evidence. Sue him for malicious transfer of marital assets.” “Also, revoke all the cosmetics patents I authorized. Don’t leave a single one!” 4 After that, Julian seemed to forget about me. It wasn’t until three days later, as I was simmering chicken soup at home, that Julian suddenly entered, arm around Melanie. Several nannies and bodyguards followed them, one of them carrying a cat carrier. “Luna is almost due, and Melanie can’t stand the smell of blood. So we’re bringing Luna here to deliver.” I looked up at him: “Julian, both my daughters and I are allergic to cat fur. If you let a cat live here, where will our daughters stay?” He personally helped Melanie to sit on the sofa, naturally brought out a bowl of soup and handed it to her, then looked at me with impatience: “They can just find somewhere else to stay, can’t they? Allergic to cats at such a young age, I wonder if it’s some inferior gene they inherited from you.” With the charade finally over, he truly stopped pretending, dropping even the superficial politeness. I pulled out a chair and sat down, speaking coldly: “This is my home. If anyone needs to leave, it certainly isn’t me.” Melanie blinked, then choked, pretending to stand up: “Ms. Hayes is right, I’m the one who should leave…” Julian pressed her back down, his tone hostile towards me: “Don’t waste my time. I told you, if you want to remain Mrs. Vance, you’ll listen to me.” “Melanie is due in a few days, she absolutely cannot be stressed… What are you standing there for? Get her out!” The bodyguards exchanged uneasy glances. But they were all employees I had hired. Now, one look from me, and none dared to move. Looking past them, I watched him play the “good husband,” the “good father.” It only made me laugh even more bitterly: “Julian, you gave her the company and all the properties. You even gave her our daughters’ properties. Where do you expect us to go?” Julian’s face darkened completely. He slammed the soup bowl down. Broth splashed across the table: “Charlotte, you dared to investigate me?!” “I warned you to wait until Melanie had given birth before discussing anything. But you just couldn’t sit still, insisting on making a scene now. Are you trying to anger me, or stress Melanie out?” “Fine, you want a divorce? Then let’s divorce. I want to see how long you, Charlotte, can survive without the Hayes family, and without me!” Julian, you’re mistaken. I want to see how long you and this woman can survive without me, and without my patents! Just as tensions were about to explode, the kindergarten teacher brought our two daughters home. “Mommy, Daddy, why are there so many people here…” A flicker of regret crossed Julian’s eyes. As he turned his head, Melanie suddenly moaned: “Julian… my stomach hurts so much…” “This chicken soup… it tastes off. Quick… take me to the hospital…” Julian immediately spun around, seeing Melanie’s face deathly pale, clutching her stomach and panting in pain. I frowned. Before I could speak, he had already scooped Melanie up and was rushing out. “Charlotte, you dared to poison the soup!” “If anything happens to my son, I swear, I’ll never let you go!” My daughters, terrified, stood by the door, frozen. Julian, in his rage, actually kicked Lily, our eldest daughter, in the leg. “Get out of the way! Just like your mother, both of you are useless!” “Julian! How dare you hurt my daughter!” I lunged forward, but he had already pushed open the door and driven off with the nannies and bodyguards. Lily had bumped into a cabinet. I quickly helped them both up, checking carefully for injuries. “Mommy, why did Daddy kick me? Did I do something wrong?” “No, darling, you didn’t do anything wrong.” I hugged them both tightly, watching the car drive away. After a long moment, I picked up my phone: “Have the patent authorizations been revoked? Do it now. I want Julian to lose everything!”

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I hit the biggest lottery jackpot — $1 billion. The day I was supposed to claim it, my wife was suddenly kidnapped. The kidnapper, full of bravado, started a live stream for the whole world to see. He pointed at the camera and threatened: “Mr. Alex, if you want your wife back, you’ll exchange her for that lottery ticket!” I calmly pulled out our marriage certificate from a drawer, my voice even more intense than the kidnapper’s. “Tell me… how much do you want to finish her off?” On the screen, my wife Sarah was tied up in a run-down factory, her face pale. The comments in the live chat were flying by. “Oh my God, this looks way too real! Doesn’t seem like acting at all!” The live stream quickly went viral. As viewership skyrocketed, Sarah’s parents, Robert and Karen, found out about their daughter’s kidnapping and frantically called me. Meanwhile, I was casually sipping coffee, interacting with the kidnapper. To speed things up and convince him to just end it, I transferred the last of our shared marital funds into the live streaming platform. The next second, the front door suddenly burst open. “Alex, what the hell is going on? My daughter’s been kidnapped, and you’re just sitting here sipping coffee?!” I slowly put down my cup and glared at Robert. “Mr. Robert, I want to save Sarah too, but the kidnapper’s demands are just too extreme. I can’t meet them!” The words had barely left my mouth when Robert rushed over, grabbing my collar. “What do you mean by that? Is my daughter’s life not worth more than a lottery ticket?!” Robert was trembling with desperation, his eyes filled with disappointment. “Mr. Robert, you know I’m broke. There’s no way I’m giving up this lottery ticket. As for Sarah, don’t worry—I’ll definitely throw her a proper funeral once she’s gone!” Before I could even finish, Karen, who was standing nearby, couldn’t hold back anymore. She pointed a finger at me and screamed. “You bastard! Sarah is your wife! How can you just stand there and watch her die?!” I looked at the live stream footage as if nothing was happening. “Right now, $1 billion is definitely more important to me than your daughter’s life.” Just then, in the live stream, Sarah yelled my name at the screen. “Alex, I’m pregnant! If you don’t want two lives lost, hand over that lottery ticket now!” At her words, the comments exploded again. “What?! They’re kidnapping a pregnant woman? That’s absolutely sick!” “Ugh, this poor woman. It’s been so long, and her husband still hasn’t done anything!” “Exactly! Money can be earned back, but if you lose your life, you really lose everything!” … As the live stream comments kept flooding in, the kidnapper grew visibly excited. He held up his phone with one hand, while the other grabbed Sarah’s hair and forced her to the ground. A heart-wrenching scream for help immediately echoed through the video. “Honey, save me!” Sarah struggled to lift her head, her gaze fixed on the screen, tears still glistening in her eyes. The live stream audience was horrified by the scene, frantically pulling out their phones to call the police. Karen, seeing her daughter’s miserable state on screen, stumbled and nearly fainted beside me. “Alex, did you hear that? My daughter is pregnant!” I quirked an eyebrow. “So what if it’s a kid? Once I claim my prize, countless women across the country will be lining up to have my babies!”

After a few more screams, the kidnapper’s eyes were blazing red as he stared at the screen. “Mr. Alex, I’m giving you one hour to decide: money or your wife and child!” Mid-sentence, he suddenly grinned. “Oh, and I should warn you—I’m not a very patient man. Every ten minutes, I’ll chop off one of your wife’s fingers until she bleeds to death.” I sighed softly at my phone screen. “Don’t bother with the fingers. Just go straight for the head. There’s no way I’m giving you that lottery ticket—forget about it.” I turned to Robert and Karen. “I don’t think you two need to worry too much. The police might have already located the kidnapper by now.” Even though the live stream’s IP address showed it was outside the country, the police might still find him. But Robert slammed his hand on the table. “Alex, everything you have now, you owe to our family! What right do you have not to save my daughter?!” He wasn’t wrong. The Roberts weren’t super rich, but they were far better off than me—a guy who came from humble beginnings. Even my current job was thanks to Robert’s connections. I was thinking about how to retort when a large group of police officers burst through the door. Captain Miller, leading the team, immediately focused on me as he entered. “Mr. Alex, our police force can’t determine the kidnapper’s location yet. To prevent any further harm to your wife, I personally recommend you try to calm him down first.” Captain Miller paused mid-sentence, gave me a meaningful look, and then added: “Since the kidnapper is live streaming, our superiors don’t want any bloody scenes to appear on screen. We hope you’ll cooperate!” Before I could even speak, Robert immediately jumped in to agree. “Did you hear that?! Even the police are telling you to hand over the lottery ticket! What are you just standing there for?” I cleared my throat and sneered. “Officer, I’m really sorry, but I am absolutely not giving up that lottery ticket. As for the hostage’s safety, you can only blame the police for being derelict in their duty.” After hearing my words, the police officers looked completely incredulous. Karen, nearby, fainted on the spot. “How can you be so heartless?!” “When I let my daughter marry you, I didn’t ask for a penny in dowry. We even helped you get a new house! Is this how you repay us?!” Robert cradled his wife, grief and anger etched on his face. The police officers around me angrily clenched their fists. “Mr. Alex, we advise you to try and appease the kidnapper.” I scanned the room, unable to suppress a scoff. “You all sound so righteous—it’s easy for you to say. If I lose a wife, I can always remarry. But if I lose this money, I’ll be poor my whole life.” Just as I finished speaking, the doorbell suddenly rang. “Excuse me, is there a Mr. Alex here? I have a package for you.” I opened it to find a bloody finger inside.

Seeing the sight, everyone gasped collectively. “That… that has my daughter’s wedding ring on it!” With Robert’s startled cry, the atmosphere in the room instantly grew tense. At that moment, a gut-wrenching scream came from the live stream. “Ah!” I slowly turned my head to look at my phone screen. In the footage, the kidnapper held an axe high, fresh blood still glistening on it. In the corner, my wife was curled up, her back to the screen, her life hanging by a thread. “Ten minutes already?” I murmured with a smile. “Mr. Alex! Please, you need to agree to his demands immediately!” Captain Miller’s face was grim, directing all his anger at me. I calmly shook my head and spoke softly. “Captain Miller, instead of trying to persuade me, you should focus on rescuing the hostage.” I picked up the severed finger and toyed with it. “Only eight fingers left. You police officers better hurry.” No sooner had I spoken than the kidnapper’s voice echoed through the live stream again. “Mr. Alex, my patience has its limits! If you don’t make a decision soon, next time it won’t be just a finger!” I couldn’t help but curse under my breath. Figures—you can’t trust a kidnapper’s word. He said he’d cut one every ten minutes, and now he’s already gone back on it. But then I reconsidered—maybe it’d be better if he just chopped off her head next time. At least that would stop this swarm of flies buzzing in my ear. “Alex, hurry up and get that lottery ticket! If my daughter dies, I’ll never forgive you!” I sighed softly, looking at him with a feigned apologetic expression. “Mr. Robert, you can only blame your daughter for her bad luck—for getting stuck with a husband like me, who values money above all else.” At these words, the entire room erupted in murmurs. Some of the younger officers were already clenching their fists. If they weren’t in uniform, I’m sure they would have rushed forward to beat me up. Captain Miller angrily pointed at the woman on the screen. “Mr. Alex, even if you refuse to save your wife, the child in her belly is innocent—at least. I suggest you reconsider!” Looking at my wailing wife on the live stream, I couldn’t help but narrow my eyes. A child? I don’t even want my wife—why would I want her child? “Captain Miller, you don’t need to persuade me anymore.” Captain Miller’s face was dark as he glared at me, gritting his teeth. “Mr. Alex, I hope you won’t regret this decision you’re making today!” I struggled to hold back a laugh. “Captain Miller, why would I ever regret it?”

The professional instruments’ indicator lights kept blinking, but they still couldn’t pinpoint the kidnapper’s exact location. The police were stomping their feet in frustration, utterly helpless. The kidnapper, still live streaming, saw I hadn’t responded and unleashed another round of punches and kicks on the woman in the corner. My wife, already losing too much blood, grew even paler. She could pass out at any moment. The number of viewers on the live stream peaked at this moment, the screen full of comments too many to read. “Where’s the hostage’s husband? Why hasn’t he shown up yet?” “Is there really someone who would let someone die for money?” “I think the person above is right. Her husband never intended to give up the lottery ticket—otherwise, he wouldn’t let the kidnapper harm the hostage!” As time ticked by, the kidnapper gradually lost patience. He roared frantically at the screen. “Mr. Alex, I’ll count to three. If you don’t make a decision, believe me—I’ll finish her off right now!” I let out a deep sigh and pulled out my phone in front of everyone. The call was answered instantly, and my voice, broadcast through the live stream, was heard clearly by everyone online. “Mr. Alex, it seems you still can’t bear to lose your wife.” The kidnapper’s tone was exceptionally smug. I bit back a smile. “As long as you hand over the lottery ticket, I guarantee I’ll send your wife back unharmed.” At this point, the onlookers watching on screen all thought I would give up the massive jackpot for my wife. But what I said next completely stunned everyone. “Hey, Kidnapper, I think you’ve misunderstood. I just called to tell you to stop dragging your feet and get on with it—I’m in a hurry to claim my prize.” The kidnapper had never expected me to say something so outrageous in front of tens of millions of people. He froze on the spot. After a long pause, he forcefully swung an iron hammer at my wife’s head, slamming it down hard. There was a sickening “thud,” and the scene fell into a dead silence. No one had imagined that I would call the kidnapper just to provoke him into killing her. “Alex! You… you animal! You killed my daughter! I’ll make you pay!” Robert grabbed a fruit knife from the coffee table and lunged at me. The scene instantly descended into chaos. And I, the orchestrator of it all, remained perfectly composed, sitting on the sofa. “Mr. Robert, I advise you to calm down. The police are all watching!” The first to react was Captain Miller. He quickly blocked me, grappling with Robert, who was holding the knife. Seeing this scene unfold, I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Mr. Robert, the dead cannot be brought back to life. My condolences.” Robert was pinned to the ground by the police, his eyes bloodshot as he roared at me. “Alex, not only did you refuse to save her, but why did you deliberately provoke the kidnapper and cause my daughter’s death?!” “You owe me an explanation today!” I crossed my legs, looking down at him with a smirk. “An explanation? There’s nothing to explain.” “I stand by what I said: you can only blame your daughter for her bad luck!” Perhaps my disregard for life had finally incensed everyone. The younger police officers around me rushed forward from all directions, looking as if they wanted to skin me alive. “I’ve never seen such a cold-blooded and heartless person in my life! You’re ten, even a hundred times worse than a murderer!” “Alex, you disregard life, you disregard the law! Today, even if it costs me my badge, I will bring you to justice!” In an instant, everyone was enraged. Even Captain Miller, who was closest to me, now looked at me with a furious expression. I glanced at the number of live stream viewers, a subtle smile playing on my lips. Just as the handcuffs were about to click around my wrists, I suddenly shouted at the crowd of police officers. “Wait!” “I need to talk to your captain!” Captain Miller slowly walked up to me, looking confused. “Go on, what else do you have to say to defend yourself?” I sighed softly, my tone calm and even. “Captain Miller, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” The next second, the seasoned officer’s eyes widened, staring at me in disbelief. “You… how do you know my name?” I spoke coldly, in a voice only he and I could hear. “If I told you I’m a reborn person, would you believe me?”

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I dialed my wife’s number from the operating room. “Vanessa, I need you to come to the hospital right away.” Her voice on the other end was faint, as if she was holding something back. “Marcus, I really can’t leave right now… My parents came all the way from Wisconsin for the holidays, and the whole family is here…” A sharp pain made cold sweat bead on my forehead, but through the receiver, I clearly heard another man’s voice: “I heard having surgery on Christmas brings a ‘deathly vibe from the hospital’ home, jinxing the family’s good fortune for the coming year.” Vanessa gasped, agreeing: “Honey, Chad is quite spiritual, he might have a point…” “I’ll book you a hotel suite. You can recover there after the surgery. When the holidays are over, you can come back.” No sooner had she spoken than my phone screen lit up with a notification – my black card had just been used for a $28,888 transaction at a luxury hotel. Feasting on my dime, yet locking me out of my own home. It was time to make them understand who the real owner of that card was.

The first thing I did after waking up from surgery was call the hotel’s general manager. A quick conversation, and then I hung up. Less than five minutes later, a refund confirmation landed in my inbox. I was about to get up when the hospital room door gently pushed open. My driver, Gary, walked in, holding a payment slip. “Mr. Davies, why are you up? The doctor said you need bed rest.” Gary’s words brought a sliver of warmth to that cold Christmas Eve. At that moment, I was grateful that when I gave the entire company Christmas break, Gary had volunteered to stay on call. Otherwise, I truly would have spent this night alone in the hospital. I nodded at him. “I’m fine. I can check out.” The streets were exceptionally congested on Christmas Eve, and the drive to the hotel took nearly an hour. In the hotel lobby, the front desk manager immediately greeted me: “Mr. Davies, as you instructed, the private room has been upgraded. Your wife and her family have already arrived, and the dishes have just been served.” I sneered inwardly. My family? My parents had been living in Switzerland for years. My “good wife” wouldn’t think to invite them. The server led me to the private room on the third floor. Laughter drifted from inside. Mr. Jenkins’s voice was the first to emerge: “This fancy hotel’s Christmas dinner is really something! Back in our town, we’d never get anything this good.” “Dad, if you like it, eat more. It’s a holiday family dinner, of course we should eat well.” That was my wife, Vanessa’s, voice. “This meal must cost a fortune, right?” “Not too much, about thirty thousand dollars. It’s a Christmas dinner, it’s worth it.” “Thirty thousand dollars?! In our town, that money would last a family two years!” “It’s fine, just charge it to Marcus’s card.” I pressed the record button on my phone outside the door, continuing to listen. Mr. Jenkins’s voice sounded again, full of pride: “My Vanessa is really something; she’s got him wrapped around her little finger.” “But he’s still a man; always just focused on the company isn’t right. You two have been married three years; it’s time for a child.” “He’s not getting any younger. In a few more years, even if he wanted one, it might be difficult.” I gripped my phone. Mr. Jenkins’s hypocritical facade was clear to me, but I’d always felt there was something off about his relationship with Vanessa. At home, he’d respectfully call me “Mr. Davies,” yet he’d address his “niece” by her first name. A suspicion formed in my mind – were they actually father and daughter? The next second, Vanessa’s words confirmed my guess. “Dad, Marcus has always said he doesn’t want children.” “What man doesn’t want children!” Mr. Jenkins’s voice suddenly rose. “If you hadn’t told me he was rich and owned a company, I wouldn’t have looked twice at him!” “And now, he won’t even have a child. This is going to leave our family without an heir!” A young male voice echoed from the private room, a voice I’d never heard before: “Vanessa, if Marcus doesn’t want kids, I can help!” “I’m strong; I can definitely get Vanessa pregnant with healthy babies. As long as Vanessa’s willing, she can have as many as she wants!” Mr. Jenkins laughed: “Vanessa, Chad was always the one I picked for you. He’s liked you for so many years; I think it’s a great idea.” “Dad, now’s not the time. Not until Marcus settles the company stock transfer.” Just then, footsteps sounded in the hallway as a server approached: “Mr. Davies, why are you standing outside the door? Would you like me to take you in?” The chatter and laughter in the private room instantly ceased. I thanked the server and pushed open the door. Vanessa froze when she saw me. “Honey, what are you doing here?” I scanned the room – Vanessa, Mr. Jenkins, and a burly young man were seated around the lavish Christmas dinner table. That stranger, I presumed, was “Chad.” I pulled out a chair and sat down, looking at Vanessa and speaking coldly: “Christmas Eve, a family dinner. I hadn’t even arrived, and you’ve already started?” “Was the dinner too tempting to wait for me, or did you simply have no intention of inviting me?” A flicker of panic crossed Vanessa’s eyes, quickly replaced by a smile as she sat down beside me: “Honey, what are you talking about? We just arrived too; we were just about to call you.” “You’re my husband. If I’m not spending the holidays with you, who else would I be with?” She gazed at me affectionately, her tone gentle. If I hadn’t known about her scheming behind my back, I might have been fooled by that facade. Seeing my silence, she poured me a cup of hot tea: “By the way, honey, did you just get here? Why didn’t you call me down to meet you?” I scoffed inwardly. Meeting me was a pretense; probing if I’d overheard their conversation was the truth. She visibly relaxed when I said I “just arrived.” But I had no intention of letting it go. I pointed at Chad: “Who is he? Why is there an outsider at our family gathering?” Before Vanessa could answer, Mr. Jenkins hastily spoke: “Marcus, this is Chad. He’s my daughter’s… no, no, he’s just a child of a distant relative of mine.” “He had nowhere to go for the holidays in the city, so Vanessa, being kind, invited him to dinner with us.” 3 I looked at Mr. Jenkins thoughtfully. “Mr. Jenkins, you’ve been living at my house for about half a year now. Who pays your salary in this household?” Mr. Jenkins gave an uneasy laugh: “Marcus, why bring that up now? My salary has always come from you.” “Since you know I pay your salary, you should understand that I am your employer.” “At my company, everyone on my payroll calls me Mr. Davies. I can overlook the titles, but” – I leaned forward – “to say on the phone that my Christmas illness was ‘inauspicious’ and to keep me from coming home – who gave you the right to meddle in my affairs?” Mr. Jenkins’s expression clearly panicked, but he still argued: “Marcus, I was just telling the truth! Back in our town, going to the hospital during Christmas is just bad luck; it brings misfortune…” “In that case,” I leaned back against my chair, “you’re fired. Pack your bags tomorrow and find another job.” Only then did Mr. Jenkins realize the gravity of the situation. He quickly stood up and looked at Vanessa: “Marcus, Mr. Davies! I didn’t do anything wrong! You can’t fire me just because you’re unhappy!” “I’m the employer, and I’m not satisfied. That’s reason enough.” Vanessa, who had been quiet until now, finally couldn’t hold back: “Honey, Dad’s getting old, it’s not easy for him. He was just looking out for me… Please forgive him this once!” She picked a cold piece of lobster from the leftover dishes and placed it on my plate: “I promise, Dad won’t speak out of turn again. If there’s a next time, I won’t defend him!” Seeing my silence, Vanessa gave Mr. Jenkins a look. He immediately lowered his head: “Mr. Davies, I know I was wrong. Please give me another chance. I won’t speak recklessly again.” I “reluctantly” nodded. The three at the table visibly relaxed. They resumed eating, and Vanessa kept piling food onto my plate. I had no appetite, so I used the excuse of going to the restroom and left the hotel. I hadn’t canceled the private room, so naturally, the bill wasn’t paid. I froze Vanessa’s secondary card on my mobile banking app. This Christmas feast? Whoever ate it, pays for it.

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My husband had what I thought was bipolar disorder. Every time he hit me, he’d remorsefully transfer ten thousand dollars to my account. I never fought back. I just quietly accepted the money, covering the bruises with foundation. My best friend called me pathetic, urging me to divorce him. I counted the balance in my account, a cold, calculated smile playing on my lips. “Not yet,” I’d tell her. “I’m not done making a fortune!” Until one day, he punched me in the stomach, and I had a miscarriage. “Cha-ching! One thousand four hundred dollars received.” A mechanical female voice echoed through the empty living room, jarringly loud. I spat out a mouthful of blood, metallic and coppery, like rust. Damian sat across from me on the sofa, hands clasped over his head, despair clawing at him. His hair was a mess, tangled from when he’d been frantically raking his fingers through it during his fit. “I’m so sorry… Cassie, I’m so sorry… I just couldn’t control myself…” His voice was choked with tears, trembling like a leaf caught in a storm. I didn’t say anything. I just quietly picked myself up off the floor. My knee had hit the table earlier, and the pain was excruciating. It was probably already purple. I walked to the mirror. My left cheek was swollen. Five distinct finger marks, angry red, almost purple. Damian hadn’t held back his strength in that slap. He genuinely wanted to kill me, or rather, his “episode-self” wanted to kill me. I picked up the concealer, layering it on, coat after coat. The liquid foundation was cold, a stark contrast against the burning wound. The temperature difference jolted me, pulling me back to a grim reality. Damian’s heavy footsteps sounded behind me. He wrapped his arms around me from behind, burying his face in the crook of my neck. His tears streamed down, scalding my skin through my shirt, making me flinch. “Cassie, hit me back, yell at me… I’m a monster…” “It’s okay.” I looked at my reflection in the mirror, my lips curving into a perfectly composed, forgiving—almost saintly—smile. “I know you’re sick. I don’t blame you.” Damian cried harder, like a child who had done something terribly wrong. He pulled out his phone again. “Cha-ching! One thousand four hundred dollars received.” With the previous one, that made twenty thousand. One slap, twenty thousand dollars. Pretty good deal. My monthly salary was only two thousand, and I had to endure my boss’s verbal assaults and demanding clients. Here, taking a beating for a few minutes of pain could earn me ten months of wages. No matter how I crunched the numbers, it was a profitable trade. Damian was born with a silver spoon, his family owned a chain of factories. Money was just a number to him. To me, it was survival.

Damian fell asleep. Assaulting someone was physically draining, especially with his kind of hysterical rage. I covered him with the blanket, looking at his sleeping face, which still held a hint of gloom. When he wasn’t having an episode, Damian was actually quite handsome. High cheekbones, a straight nose, and eyes that held a deceptive allure, hinting at profound affection. Who would have thought that beneath that attractive exterior lurked a beast? I closed the bedroom door, walked to the balcony, and lit a cigarette. I wasn’t much of a smoker; I only lit one when the pain kept me from sleeping. My phone screen lit up. It was a SnapChat from Chloe, my best friend. “Still alive?” I took a screenshot of my balance and sent it to her. Silence for a moment, then a long voice message came through. “Cassie, are you out of your mind? Do you have some kind of masochistic complex? Twenty thousand dollars is all it takes to buy you off? Don’t you know domestic abuse never stops once it starts? What if he kills you one day? Are you going to take those hundreds of thousands to spend in the afterlife?” Chloe’s scolding was harsh, but I knew she meant well. She was the only one who knew Damian hit me. I blew out a smoke ring, watching the smoke dissipate into the night. I typed back: “Almost.” “Almost what?” “The pig is getting fat.” Chloe sent a string of ellipses, probably thinking I was beyond saving. Of course, I wasn’t crazy. I was perfectly lucid. More lucid than anyone. I touched my stomach. It was flat, soft, with no sign of life. But I needed it to have one. Damian’s bipolar disorder was getting worse. It started with throwing things, then pushing, and now it was full-on fists. The frequency also increased from once a month to once a week. I knew the breaking point was coming. Once we crossed that line, I might actually die. But I couldn’t leave yet. Damian, though remorseful, wasn’t remorseful enough. His guilt levels hadn’t reached the sum I desired. I wanted more than just twenty or thirty thousand in pocket money. I wanted his entire fortune. Or perhaps, his life.

The preparations were almost complete. The blood pack I’d ordered online was film-grade special effects, disturbingly realistic, even carrying a sickly sweet, metallic scent. As for the “fetal model.” I’d acquired it through some discreet channels. It was tiny, palm-sized, an unformed mass that sent shivers down my spine. I hid it in the bottom freezer drawer, wrapped in three layers of black plastic bags. Every time I opened the fridge for milk, I felt that thing silently watching me, radiating an unnatural cold. It was insane, I knew. But to hunt a beast, the hunter must be even crazier. This Friday was Damian’s birthday. As was customary, he would have some wine. Alcohol was a lethal combination with bipolar medication, especially when mixed. But I still bought him the best red wine, a Romanée-Conti, which cost me half of what I’d saved from a year of enduring his beatings. An investment, after all, always came with a cost. At seven in the evening, Damian returned. He seemed in a good mood, carrying an Hermès bag. “Happy Birthday, darling.” I blinked, surprised. “But it’s your birthday.” Damian smiled, walking over to kiss my forehead. “I know, but I wanted to give you a gift. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.” For a moment, I almost wavered. If you ignored those violent nights, Damian truly was a perfect husband. Wealthy, romantic, gentle. Too bad he was a lunatic. I unwrapped the gift; it was a limited-edition Birkin bag. “Do you like it?” he looked at me expectantly. “I love it,” I said, smiling and nodding. “Let’s eat. I made your favorite roasted lamb with rosemary.” At the dining table, candlelight flickered. Damian drank one glass, then two, then three. His eyes started to glaze over, his cheeks flushed, and his voice grew louder. I knew the medication was taking effect. Not the alcohol, but my special “ingredient” I’d added to the wine. It was a potent neuro-stimulant designed to amplify emotions and trigger aggressive outbursts. Damian had been taking the lithium prescribed by his doctor, but I’d swapped out his meds. I’d replaced them with identical-looking vitamin supplements. The real heavy-hitters were all in the wine. “Cassie…” Damian suddenly slammed his wine glass onto the table. Red wine splashed onto the white tablecloth, exploding into a blood-red stain. “Do you look down on me?” His eyes had changed. That familiar, violent, murderous glint was back. The show was about to begin.

I feigned panic, shrinking back. “Damian, what’s wrong? Why would I look down on you?” “You do look down on me! You think I’m crazy! You think I live off my family’s money!” Damian abruptly stood up, knocking over his chair. He rounded the table, stepping closer to me with each stride. Instead of retreating, I moved forward, clutching my stomach tightly. This action provoked him immensely. “What’s in your stomach? Huh? Is it a bastard?” That was a step I hadn’t anticipated. His delusions were worse than I’d imagined. But it was precisely what I wanted. “Damian! Are you insane? That’s your child! I’m three months pregnant!” I shrieked, my voice raw with terror. “My child? Hahahaha! I can’t even have children! I’m sick! I’m a lunatic! How could a lunatic have a child?!” Damian roared, like a rabid beast. He lunged, grabbing my hair and slamming my head against the wall. Thud! It hurt. But I held it in. I collapsed to the floor, curling into a ball. “Don’t hit me… please… don’t hurt the baby…” I cried out, my voice growing weaker. But this didn’t awaken his conscience; instead, it acted as a catalyst, driving him further into madness. “Die! All of you, just die!” Damian raised his foot and brutally kicked my stomach. Once. Twice. I felt the phantom snap of a rib. But I had to wait for the most vicious blow. Now! I violently crushed the blood pack hidden in my clothes. Warm, viscous liquid gushed out, soaking my dress and streaming down my thighs, pooling on the floor. Bright red blood spread across the white tiles, a horrifying sight. I let out one last scream, then pushed the already prepared “fetal model” from beneath my dress. It lay in the pool of blood, a small, purplish-black mass, grotesque and terrifying. The world went silent. Damian stopped moving. He gasped for breath, his eyes fixated on the puddle of blood on the floor and the mass of flesh within it. His pupils constricted violently, and he froze, as if struck by lightning. I “fainted.” But in the instant before I closed my eyes, I saw the look of utter breakdown on Damian’s face. It was terror. Not because he had hit me, but because—he had killed.

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My girlfriend of ten years, Evelyn, was everyone’s idea of perfect. Beautiful, capable, successful – her only flaw? She loved tearing me down. If I got second place instead of first, she’d tell me I wasn’t “smart enough.” When I finally earned some money from my writing, she’d dismiss my work as “worthless garbage.” Later, at the suit shop, when Evelyn criticized my posture, saying I didn’t look like a groom in the suit, I finally snapped. For the first time, I yelled at her: “If you think I’m not good enough, then don’t marry me!” At the suit shop, when I walked out of the fitting room, even strangers nearby couldn’t help but steal glances. The sales associate smiled. “You have a great build. This suit looks really sharp on you.” “Go show your fiancée! She’ll definitely love it.” I forced a smile. “Not necessarily. Her standards are pretty sky-high.” After all, for over ten years, Evelyn had always had high expectations for me, never once praising me. But today, looking at myself in the mirror—broad shoulders, long legs, a lean build—this dark suit suited me perfectly. I thought, Evelyn should be pleased, right? Would she praise me? Would she think I looked handsome? Would she gaze at me with admiration, like the other fiancées in the store looked at their partners? With that hopeful expectation, I nervously reached for Evelyn’s wrist. The next moment, however, my hopes were mercilessly crushed. Evelyn turned, scanning me up and down. Her first words were: “Leo, your shoulders are too slouched.” My smile froze on my face. Even the sales associate looked a bit flustered. “Your back isn’t straight, your posture is terrible, your presence is timid. You look completely uninspired in that.” Evelyn sighed. “Leo, in that suit, you really don’t look like a groom at all.” Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was just enough for everyone in the store to hear. All sorts of eyes landed on me: pitying, mocking, or just plain entertained. In that moment, I felt like nothing more than an item being scrutinized by Evelyn, not a person. My eyes burned. My chest tightened, making it hard to breathe. I’d hit the gym every day and done posture exercises, just like Evelyn wanted, all to look more distinguished at the wedding. Why did she still have to say such things to me? Maybe days of accumulated stress had left me emotionally fragile, or maybe the feeling of dashed hopes was just unbearable. Either way, after ten years, I couldn’t take it anymore. I ripped off my tie. For the first time, I yelled at her: “Evelyn, if you think I’m not good enough, then don’t marry me!” “Yes, I don’t look like a groom, so this wedding? It’s off!” As Evelyn stared, stunned, I took a deep breath and finally said the words that had echoed in my mind countless times: “Evelyn, let’s break up.”

My emotions still hadn’t calmed down by the time my friend, Alex, came to pick me up. After I posted the news of the canceled wedding on social media, everyone started asking what happened. Most people said things like: “Leo, are you and Evelyn just having a misunderstanding?” “She’s such a great woman; you’ll never find anyone like her again.” Even my mom sided with Evelyn. “Evelyn told me about what happened. It’s just a small thing, no need to dwell on it.” And Evelyn herself just texted me three words: “Stop messing around.” I gripped my phone, a wave of helplessness spreading through me. No one understood. After all, in everyone’s eyes, Evelyn was the perfect girlfriend. Beautiful, capable, earned good money, and had been with me for ten years without ever cheating. If she had any fault, it was that she loved putting me down. We grew up together. She was the “golden child,” excelling at everything, always better than me. But fate is fair. While it gave her talent, it also gave her a difficult family background. Her mom passed away young, and her dad was a workaholic who barely paid attention to her, only giving her a second glance when she won an award. And her dad was traditional and old-fashioned, always saying it was “a shame she was a girl.” Because of this, Evelyn was exceptionally driven. While the other neighborhood kids were still playing in the dirt, Evelyn was already participating in math competitions and winning awards. Her difficult upbringing shaped Evelyn into someone strong-willed and demanding. But only with me did she reveal her critical side. If I got second place instead of first, she’d tap my head and tell me I “wasn’t smart enough,” pointing at my mistakes and scolding me, “How could you get something so simple wrong?” If I only won a bronze medal in a competition, she, who always won gold, would be deeply disappointed, coldly criticizing me and calling me a “blockhead.” My mom’s favorite saying was, “Look at Evelyn, she’s so brilliant. She always gets first place and wins awards left and right.” You could say I grew up in Evelyn’s shadow. I hated how she always made me feel worthless, and I hated my mom constantly comparing me to her. Yet, in our early romantic years, everyone called Evelyn and me a classic “opposites attract” couple. They said the way Evelyn treated me was her way of showing affection. Even when Evelyn confessed her feelings, she said, “Leo, if I didn’t like you, would I be so hard on you?” It was the first time she’d ever spoken to me so gently. Her young face softened, and her eyes sparkled with a smile. The cheers and teasing around us were constant, and I was too caught up to notice the little knot of discomfort in my stomach. And just like that, I kind of stumbled into a relationship with Evelyn. That “stumble” lasted ten years.

Alex was my best friend from college and the only one who supported my breakup. Once in college, Evelyn asked me to study with her at the library. Getting up at 7 AM on a weekend was no easy feat. Even though I rushed as fast as I could, I was still two minutes late. Evelyn stood there, arms crossed, a frown on her face. “Leo, why do you have no sense of time at all?” “Are you going to be late meeting clients when you start working? What if it’s a multi-million dollar deal?” My first instinct was to apologize, but Alex pulled me behind him. “Getting up early on a weekend to study with you is against human nature, Evelyn. Leo’s already doing great just showing up.” “And he was only two minutes late. Do you really need to make such a big deal out of it?” From then on, Evelyn and Alex’s relationship went downhill. Alex loved praising me, offering a kind of validation I’d never received in over twenty years of my life. That’s why I loved spending time with him. Evelyn just scoffed. “He praises you only to make you arrogant, so you can’t see your flaws.” “Humility leads to self-reflection. Telling you your shortcomings directly, *that’s* what’s really good for you!” Talking about Alex always made Evelyn frown. It was her sign of irritation. Every time she made that face, I knew I was in for a lecture. I wanted to tell her Alex wasn’t like that. But an unbidden fear spread through me, freezing me in place. I was afraid of Evelyn’s anger, afraid of her criticism. When Alex heard about it, he just clapped me hard on the shoulder. “Leo, someone used to being put down finds it really hard to break free.” “Just take your time.” So today, when he heard I’d finally decided to break up with Evelyn, Alex was especially happy. He threw an arm around my shoulders, grinning. “Congrats, Leo, free from misery!” Alex took me to his place and let me stay in his guest room for a while. He led me into the room. “Leo, do you like the room? I decorated it just for you!” Looking at all sorts of sneakers and basketball-themed pillows, I felt a little dazed. How long had it been since I’d seen things like this, ever since I moved in with Evelyn? Evelyn was a minimalist. When it came to my sneaker collection, she’d just scoff, mocking, “Leo, your taste is so childish and ridiculous.” Thinking about it, my eyes started to burn again, and I couldn’t speak for a long time. If Evelyn was an insidious nightmare in my life, then Alex was probably heaven’s way of making it up to me.

I went to our shared apartment to pack up my things. I didn’t expect Evelyn to already be back. She sat on the couch, lazily lifting her eyelids. “Had you thrown your tantrum, and were you back?” I tried my best to keep my voice from trembling. “I’m not throwing a tantrum, Evelyn. I was serious about breaking up. I’m here to pack my things.” Unexpectedly, Evelyn didn’t say a word, just watched me with a smirk. I swallowed down the discomfort churning in my gut and started packing. I didn’t have many things, really. Only a few items truly belonged to me. Most of it, Evelyn bought for me after I moved in. When we first started living together, she saw my mouthwash cup and towel with cartoon characters on them and frowned. “Leo, your stuff is so childish and ugly.” The next day, she replaced everything. I tried to reason with her, but she said dismissively, “Your things were tacky and not sophisticated enough, so I changed them.” That was the first time I wanted to break up. But my mom convinced me, “If she likes you, just let her do what she wants. You’ve been together for so many years; you can’t break up over something so small.” That time, I compromised. It took a long time for me to realize that it wasn’t a small thing at all. Anything that makes you uncomfortable shouldn’t be dismissed as “small.” The only part of that apartment I felt any attachment to was my writing nook. Just a desk, a lamp, and a computer, yet it was where countless stories were born. I’d loved writing since I was a kid, but Evelyn always called it “a waste of time,” so I put that hobby on hold for a while. It wasn’t until college, when I had more time, that I started writing again. Evelyn was my first reader. I was so excited, hoping she’d praise my work, but after reading it, she just coldly said, “What you write is total nonsense, utterly worthless. Leo, you have no talent for writing. Give up.” But I guess I truly loved writing. For the first time, I didn’t listen to her. I kept writing, and I actually made a name for myself. When I got my first royalty check, I proudly showed off to Evelyn. “I actually got paid for my writing! A full three hundred bucks!” I wanted to prove to her that people *did* read my stuff, that I wasn’t as bad as she said. But she scanned it quickly, then immediately declared, “Worthless garbage.” She looked down on me, her eyes barely hiding her scorn. “There are just a lot of kind people out there. They probably tipped you to encourage a newbie.” “You actually think you’re a good writer?” Her every word was a blade, bursting the bubble of hope in my heart, leaving behind a festering, oozing wound. After that, no matter how much money I made from writing, I never told Evelyn again. I took a deep breath, about to close my laptop, when I noticed it was already on. I opened the screen, and my drafts on the desktop were all gone! That was hundreds of pages of drafts. Every word had been carefully chosen; the effort and passion poured into them were undeniable. I checked the trash bin, then looked through Word’s revision history. Nothing. Nothing. They were all gone! Only one person would do something like that. Evelyn’s voice suddenly came from behind me. She leaned against the doorframe, her gaze dark and knowing: “I deleted them for you. See, this useless stuff has just made you arrogant. You didn’t actually think that with this worthless trash, you could just leave me and live on your own, did you?”

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The day I got divorced, I received a system. It promised me the world, on one condition: I had to make my bastard ex-husband suffer. Oh. My. God. This was going to be epic. Aurora POV “Sign the papers if you’re awake. Evelyn is waiting. I don’t have time for this.” Owen’s voice was low, layered with the arrogance of unchallenged authority. It felt colder than the conditioned air in the room, a chill that seeped straight into my bones. My throat was packed with wet cotton, the ghost of a suffocation that wouldn’t fade. I jerked upright. My vision focused on the opulent yet stark crystal chandelier, and then on the man across from me, his head bowed, checking his watch, a look of impatience etched on his face. Owen. On the table, the divorce agreement lay, a stark, blinding white. Memories exploded in my mind. In my last life, I’d wasted three years on this man. I concealed severe depression and swallowed every humiliation for the sake of the Owen family’s reputation. Finally, on a storm-ravaged night I died of a heart attack. The trigger was a viral post: him and his lover Evelyn watching fireworks from a yacht. When I died, I was still clutching that absurd crucifix, the one I’d prayed over for his safety. “Five million dollars isn’t enough?” mistook my silence. The line between his brows deepened, his voice dripping with undisguised contempt. “Aurora, know your place. Evelyn has endured far worse than you. This five million is your last chance to leave with some dignity.” Dignity? I really wanted to laugh, but my lungs still ached. “Ding!” “Grudge Level: Achieved. Emotional Monetization System: Activated.” “Target Locked: Owen.” “Rule Set: Any negative emotion (anger, shock, regret, pain) generated by the Target toward the Host will be converted into currency in real time, at a proportional rate.” “Special Warning: Should the Host develop positive affective attachment to the Target, all assets will be liquidated, and the Host will be terminated.” Lines of translucent, icy blue text hung suspended in my vision. I froze for half a second, then pressed a hand to my chest, where my heart was slamming against my ribs. I just have to not fall in love with him to live? And I get paid to piss him off? This wasn’t a divorce settlement. This was a goddamn jackpot! “Aurora, my patience is limited.” Owen’s finger tapped the coffee table, a ‘tap-tap’ like a death knell. “Don’t force me to get my lawyers involved. Then you won’t even get this five million.” Five million dollars. In my last life, hearing that number, I’d bawled my eyes out, begging him on my knees not to leave me. I was so foolish back then, actually believing feelings were more important than money. I lifted my head. Those eyes, once filled with tentative affection and adoration, were now starkly empty, like a dry well reflecting none of Owen’s image. I reached out, bypassing his tapping hand, and snatched the divorce agreement. I flipped straight to the end. Grabbed the pen. The pen scraped across the paper, a soft, deliberate sound, without a single pause. I signed my name, a firm, decisive stroke that tore through the last page. I saw Owen open his mouth, as if he’d prepared a mouthful of scorn and threats, but the words died in his throat. He stared at the still-wet ink of my name, his face blank for a moment. Signed. She signed it. The woman who would call him three times, crying, if she so much as pricked her finger, the one who clung to him with no dignity – she just signed it. No wailing, no tearful pleas about not being able to live without him. I could feel a strange, almost irritable sense of defeat radiating from him. It was like punching a cloud, leaving him utterly frustrated. “Ding! Target detected generating ‘irritation and frustration’.” “Plus the frustration of wanting to rage but finding no legitimate excuse.” “Account credited: $500,000.00.” My phone screen lit up on the table. A bank SMS popped up: “Your account ending in 8888 has received $500,000.00. Current balance: $500,000.00.” I gazed at that pleasing string of zeros, and the color swiftly returned to my pale cheeks. Even my breathing felt easier. Owen’s discomfort really was this valuable! I tossed the signed agreement casually onto the coffee table with a crisp thump. Then I stood up, light on my feet like a bird finally freed from its shackles. “It’s signed. Mr. Owen, the access card is on the cabinet in the hallway, the password hasn’t changed. I’ll leave now, make room for Ms. Evelyn.” I didn’t even spare Owen another glance, turning to pack my handbag. Silence behind me, but I could clearly feel his gaze burning into my back. I felt the knot of unease in his chest. In his silence, I could almost hear a flicker of unvoiced doubt: Did she really not care anymore? Ding! Target ‘Self-Doubt & Trace Anxiety’ detected. Critical Hit! Bonus Activated. Account credited: $2,000,000.00. Two million! I almost burst out laughing. With my back to Owen, my lips curved into a wild, delighted smile, and my hands worked faster. I had to strike while the iron was hot, gather some startup capital. “Aurora!” Owen finally lost it, covering the distance in a few angry strides and gripping my wrist. His palm was searing hot, his grip so strong it felt like he might crush my bones. “What game are you playing?” He stared into my eyes. “Taking this five million and leaving me, what kind of life do you think you’ll have? Sleeping under a bridge?” My wrist throbbed. I lowered my head slightly, my gaze falling on his hand clamped around mine. Once, I’d longed for these hands to hold mine, even for a second. Now, they just felt dirty. I extended my other hand, slowly, deliberately, prying his fingers open, one by one. My movements were unhurried but firm, not allowing any resistance. “Owen, you think too highly of yourself.” I stepped back, rubbing my reddened wrist, then met his gaze. There was no love in my eyes, no hate, just the disgust one might feel for trash on the roadside. “I was blind before, I cherished you like a treasure. Now my eyes are open, and looking at you…” I let out a soft laugh, clear as a bell, each word a knife: “You just make me sick.” Boom- I saw Owen’s body visibly stiffen, as if something had exploded in his brain. At that moment, I’d bet Owen felt his dignity had been utterly trampled, then ground into the dirt for good measure. “Ding! Target detected generating ‘extreme shock and damaged self-esteem’.” “Assessed as S-Rank Emotional Fluctuation!” “Account credited: $5,000,000.00.” With the previous amounts, that was seven and a half million dollars. In a few words, I’d earned more than his pathetic divorce settlement. My mood soared. I pulled out my phone and, right in front of Owen’s ashen face, called for the most luxurious private car service. “Hello, Apex Car Service? Location: Hillside Villa district, I need a car now, I’m willing to pay extra.” After hanging up, I tilted my phone screen to show the massive balance that had just cleared. “Don’t worry about me sleeping under any bridge.” “After all, since I left you…” I drew a slow breath, and for the first time since my rebirth, a smile of pure, uncomplicated bliss spread across my face. “I’ve discovered the air itself smells sweeter when it’s scented with money.”

Owen POV I stood in the center of the living room, my face ashen. My fists were clenched tight, knuckles white. Watching her resolute back, a surge of blind rage shot to my head. “Fine! Aurora! Just try to come crawling back!” I roared towards the door, my voice echoing through the empty mansion. “Alfred! Cancel all her supplementary cards! Let’s see how long she lasts out there!” Seconds later, Alfred’s trembling voice came from the corner. “Sir, Ms. Aurora…she never used your supplementary cards.” My body stiffened. I whipped my head around, my gaze like a knife. “What did you say?” Alfred buried his head even lower. “For the past three years, Ms. Aurora’s expenses were all covered by her grandmother’s trust fund…” “When the company’s cash flow was tight, Ms. Aurora even covered our household expenses.” Crash! Thunder roared outside the window, but I stood frozen. She never used them? How was that possible? Her endless supply of designer couture, those expensive jewels…they weren’t paid for with my money? The floodgates of memory were violently thrown open. For three years, Aurora truly had never asked me for a single penny. Instead, I had taken everything in the house for granted. A bitter seed of guilt began to sprout, then rapidly bloomed, festering within him. I had just reached the foyer when Aurora paused. She stopped, turning to look back. Her gaze swept over the luxurious but lifeless villa. Finally, it landed on me. “Oh, Owen, there are a few things I forgot to tell you.” She raised her hand, pointing to the antique vase in the center of the living room, which I cherished. “That? It’s a fake. Picked it up at a flea market for twenty bucks.” My pupils constricted. Aurora’s finger moved towards the study. “That oil painting hanging in your study? I painted it myself.” Finally, her eyes settled on my wrist. I wore a mechanical watch there, its face worn, slightly old. Yet it was my most prized possession, worn for three years, and I proudly told everyone it was “priceless.” “And that watch.” Aurora chuckled, her eyes filled with pity. “I spent three months selling things at night markets during college to buy you that. The movement was cheap, the strap synthetic leather. Since you’re pursuing true love, you should just throw out all this trash.” I instinctively covered my wrist. A cold touch. Countless images flashed through my mind – me checking the time on my watch during board meetings, accepting compliments at galas. Everyone praised the watch for its understated luxury. But it was…a cheap knock-off? The president of the esteemed Owen Group, wearing a cheap watch for three years? And Aurora bought it by selling things at night markets? The pampered woman who couldn’t even twist open a bottle cap normally, selling things at night markets? Shame, shock, disbelief. A buzzing filled his head, and the thin string of his sanity snapped. Aurora didn’t look at me again. She pushed open the main door. Rain poured down. A sleek, black luxury sedan was waiting silently at the bottom of the steps. The car door automatically opened. The driver, holding a black umbrella, respectfully jogged over and bowed. “Miss, please.” Aurora, in her high heels, elegantly took her seat. The tinted window slowly rose. Through the one-way film, I only caught a final, blurry glimpse of her inside the car. Goodbye, my former meek self. In this life, I will be the most valuable queen. – That was the message I read in her final gaze. She spoke. “Drive.” The car cut through the rain, vanishing into the distance.

Aurora POV The car interior was a constant 24 degrees Celsius, with a faint aroma of leather. I leaned back in the leather seat, closing my eyes to rest. In my mind, my system panel shimmered into view. “Host: Aurora” “Current Status: Mild Depression (rapidly recovering)” “Current Assets: $8,800,000” “Skills to Unlock: Business Acumen (Beginner), Divine Appraisal Skill, Flawless Beauty…” “Shop: Activated” “Eight million eight hundred thousand.” I tapped the armrest. “Adding the original five million divorce settlement, it’s barely enough to get started.” I opened my eyes. My formerly sallow, tired complexion now held a hint of sharp allure. First order of business: restore this face. “Driver, take me to the most expensive hotel in the city – The Elysium Tower.” The driver’s hands on the steering wheel twitched. He cautiously warned me through the rearview mirror. “Miss, the Presidential Suite there is $88,000 a night…” Before he could finish, my phone vibrated, and a notification popped up. “Owen has contributed $100,000 in regret money.” My red lips curved into a radiant smile. “It’s fine. Someone else is paying.” … The Elysium Tower Hotel, a city landmark, was a playground for the wealthy and a stage where ambition and fame converged. The revolving door mirrored my current appearance. My dress was soaked, my hair plastered to my cheeks. Most striking was the dark red scar on my left jawline. It was a medal I earned two years ago in that fire, when I saved someone. The receptionist, deep in her VIP list, caught a glimpse of my disheveled state and her brow furrowed instinctively. Just as she was about to speak and perhaps dismiss me, I slapped a black card onto the marble counter. “Presidential Suite, monthly rental.” My voice was soft, yet cold. The receptionist froze, her professional fake smile faltering. She glanced at the card, a Centurion Black Card, then looked at me again, her voice slightly shaky. “Ma’am…the Presidential Suite for a month, even with the discount, is $2.6 million.” Her voice trembled slightly as she took the black card. “Are you sure you want to charge…” “Charge it.” I replied with a single, crisp word. It was Owen’s money, every penny tinged with that man’s subsequent regret. Spending it felt incredibly satisfying. “Beep-” A ‘beep’ confirmed the transaction, and the POS machine spat out a long receipt. Two point six million dollars, payment successful. The entire lobby seemed to hum with the tremor of it. “Ding! Host detected completing ‘First Major Expenditure’, triggering ‘Prodigal Rebate’ mechanism!” “Congratulations, Host, you have received an additional reward: God-Tier Skin Elixir.” “Effect: Reshapes skin texture, removes impurities, perfectly restores all old scars.” I picked up the room card and turned towards the exclusive elevator. The sound of my heels clicking on the floor was crisp and resolute. Like a funeral march for my old self. … Top floor, Presidential Suite. Beyond the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, the city lights flowed like a river of molten gold. I tossed the fragrant elixir into my mouth, then submerged myself in the temperature-controlled massage bathtub. A wave of heat instantly enveloped my entire body. Pain, accompanied by a tingling itch, spread, as if my cells were tearing apart and then subtly reorganizing. A fine layer of black oil, smelling foul, seeped from my skin – the accumulated toxins of three years of despair, and the lingering residue from the fire. Half an hour later, I stood before the floor-to-ceiling mirror in the bathroom, my robe loosely tied, collar slightly open. The hot water had just stopped, and the mirror was still fogged. I reached out to wipe it, then my hand froze mid-air, a flicker of unfamiliarity with the person in the reflection. My dull, tired complexion was now pristine and luminous, a healthy yet cool-toned white. The light caught the lines of my neck and shoulders, sharp and defined. My gaze drifted downward. My left jawline. The scar that had been with me for so many years was almost invisible. In its place was a sharp, sculpted jawline, extending from ear to chin, clean and controlled, yet radiating an undeniable strength. I lifted my head, looking into my own eyes. Those eyes, once always dim and lifeless, as if ready to be swallowed by the world, were now clear and sharp. The outer corners tilted slightly upward, and once fixed, my gaze held an undeniable intensity. Not a fragile beauty. But the kind that screamed ‘don’t mess with me,’ yet made you unable to look away. Standing there, I suddenly realized something. This wasn’t “me, saved.” This was a version entirely my own. My fingertips lightly traced my smooth cheek, a subtle, dangerous curve forming on my lips. “Thank you, Owen. If you weren’t such a jerk, I wouldn’t have the capital to transform myself like this.” My phone on the table suddenly vibrated, an abnormally loud sound in the quiet room. “Sophia” flashed on the screen. As soon as I answered, a furious torrent of words poured from the other end. “Aurora! Did you see that bitch’s post? I’m so mad I could spit!” “I want to reach through the screen and tear Evelyn’s mouth off!” I walked to the bar, poured a glass of red wine, my tone languid. “What did she post?” “Photos! A huge diamond ring! Like, a pigeon’s egg!” Sophia gritted her teeth. “The caption was even more sickening: ‘So glad it’s you by my side. See you at the auction next week.’ And Owen, that blind idiot, liked it!” I put the call on speaker and opened Instagram. The trending list was already flooded with tags for the city’s new “it” couple. #OwenSpendsMillionsToWooHisLove #EvelynTheTrueLady #AuroraGetOutOfTheOwenFamily The comments section was a frenzy of paid trolls. “Now this is true love. That Aurora was just a frumpy old hag clinging to a position.” “I heard Aurora used to sell things at night markets? She really lowered Mr. Owen’s status.” “Evelyn is so beautiful, she’ll definitely outshine everyone at the auction!” Sophia’s voice continued. “Aurora, we have to issue a statement! We can’t let them keep throwing dirt at us!” “A statement?” I swirled the wine in my glass, the crimson liquid clinging to the sides in alluring streaks. I looked out at the city lights, my eyes colder than the night itself. “Why issue a statement?” “Someone’s paying out of their own pocket to boost my visibility. Why would I ever say no to that?” The other end of the line went silent. “Huh? Aurora, are you crazy with anger?” “Sophia.” I tilted my head back, draining the wine. The liquid burned like a fiery blaze within me. “Do me a favor. Get me an invitation to next week’s auction.” Sophia gasped. “You? Going there? To watch them flaunt their love? Torture yourself?” “Flaunt their love?” I chuckled softly, placing the empty glass on the marble counter with a crisp ‘clink’. “No. I’m going to put a price on their ‘love.’ And teach Owen what a real…player looks like.”

Aurora POV Seven days after the divorce, the city’s gossip had reached a fever pitch. The whispers in the social circles claimed I was probably hiding in some moldy basement apartment, drowning my sorrows in alcohol after being thrown out. There were even bets at card tables on whether I’d survive the winter. Owen probably believed it too. For an entire week, I remained dead silent. No hysterical phone calls, no desperate pleas via text, and my social media accounts had gone dark since the day of the divorce. I knew this dead silence would cause him a strange irritation. Tonight was the annual charity gala, attended by all the city’s elite. The heavy, carved doors of the ballroom swung open with a dramatic flourish. The buzzing ballroom, filled with clinking glasses and chatter, suddenly went silent, as if someone had hit a pause button. All eyes were pulled towards the entrance by an invisible force. Gasps rippled through the crowd. “Who…who is that?” “My God, that presence…it feels familiar somehow.” I noticed Owen instinctively turn his head. When his gaze landed on me in the doorway, the champagne glass in his hand noticeably stilled, a faint clink against his fingers. It was me. But completely different from the woman he knew. The woman in bland suits, always in his shadow, handing him slippers, her presence so faint she was practically invisible – she was gone. I stood beneath the lights. A deep crimson gown, cut daringly and precisely, hugged my curves without an inch of excess fabric. Its high slit swayed with each step, revealing glimpses of my legs in the play of light and shadow, but never overtly. Not an attempt at seductive charm. This was powerful, controlled sensuality. My hair was casually styled, voluminous and rich, cascading down my back, swaying gently with my movements. No intricate styling, yet it captivated all attention. I wore no exaggerated jewelry. I didn’t need to. As the lights fell upon me, I knew one thing for sure- Attention itself was my only accessory tonight. I saw Owen’s Adam’s apple bob. His breathing hitched. He stood frozen, his gaze never leaving me. “Ding!” “Target detected generating intense negative emotions.” “Type: A mixture of stunned awe, possessive rage, and a sense of losing control.” “Account credited: $6,000,000.00.” “Host’s Charisma +10.” “Skin Radiance +20%.” System notifications flashed in my mind. Feeling that familiar, exhilarating rush of funds, I continued forward, a natural curve gracing my lips. The more Owen fumed, the richer I got. Was there any business model more perfect than this? I took a glass of red wine from a server’s tray and walked forward, heels clicking, eyes fixed straight ahead. As I passed Owen, I didn’t even grant him a flicker of my gaze. As if he were nothing but murky air. “Aurora!” Owen, thoroughly enraged by my disregard, took a step forward and blocked my path, his voice dangerously low. “What are you doing here? Dressed like that, are you trying to snag a sugar daddy to pay for your future?” The old me would have panicked, explained, and tearfully said “I didn’t” just like before. But now, I simply stopped and turned my head. Those eyes, once always glistening with tears, were now shockingly clear, carrying a hint of casual mockery. “Mr. Owen, your paranoia isn’t just a minor issue; it’s practically a terminal illness. I suggest you seek treatment immediately.” I swirled the wine in my glass, my red lips parting. “I’m here, of course, to…spend money.” “Spend money?” Evelyn, standing nearby, couldn’t help but let out a derisive snort. “Aurora, tonight’s auction items start at five million. Your little divorce settlement…it probably couldn’t even buy you a ticket in, could it?” I swept my gaze over her. My eyes were like those of someone looking at a clueless ant. I said nothing, merely walked directly to the front row – the very center, reserved for the city’s elite. I saw Owen staring at my straight back, that surge of panic as control slipped from his grasp returning. He must have been thinking – How dare she sit there? Who gave her the right? The auctioneer soon took the stage. “Ladies and gentlemen, tonight’s highlight item, the ‘Tears of the Deep’ blue diamond, starting bid – five million dollars.” It was an incredibly rare deep blue diamond ring, shimmering with a cold light under the spotlight. Owen took a deep breath and raised his paddle. He intended to buy it for Evelyn, not just to flaunt his wealth, but to slap me in the face, to show me I was nothing without him. “Six million!” Owen’s voice was steady. “Ten million.” From the front row, I spoke languidly. I didn’t even bother to raise my paddle, just casually waved the wine glass in my hand. The entire hall erupted in murmurs. Owen glared at my back, gritting his teeth. “Fifteen million!” “Ding! Target detected generating ‘raw hatred and burgeoning panic’.” “Account credited: $5,000,000.00.” Me. “Twenty million.” Owen’s veins pulsed at his temples. “Thirty million!” Me. “Forty million.” I increased the bid so quickly, so casually, as if I weren’t calling out money, but a string of meaningless numbers. I could feel his sanity frayed at the edges. The fury and indignation festered, threatening to consume his very reason. “Ding! Target detected generating ‘extreme rage and competitive zeal’.” “High-Alert! Emotion conversion triggered massive cash flow: $50,000,000.00 credited.” Listening to the system’s report, a smile flickered in my eyes. Thank you for your generous sponsorship, Owen. “Fifty million!” Owen practically roared, his eyes bloodshot. Evelyn’s face was ashen with fear. She tugged desperately at his sleeve. “Owen! It’s too expensive! It’s not worth it…” Fifty million dollars for a diamond ring, even for the Owen family, was no small sum. Just when everyone thought the farce was over. I raised my hand again. I didn’t even turn around, simply made a gesture with my hand, my back to Owen. My voice was clear, echoing through every corner of the hall. “One hundred million.” Silence. Absolute silence. Even the auctioneer’s hand holding the gavel trembled. Owen froze, his face shifting from red to green, then finally to an ashen grey. One hundred million…he couldn’t produce that. Or rather, if he threw a hundred million away for a fit of pique, the old guard on the board would tear him apart. “One hundred million once, one hundred million twice…Sold!” The gavel came down. A trembling server brought the velvet box containing the diamond ring to me. The host stammered, almost incoherently. “Ms. Aurora, you’ve acquired this ‘Tears of the Deep’ for an astronomical price. Does it hold any special commemorative meaning for you?” I took the box. Stood up. Turned around. Under the gaze of hundreds of eyes in the hall, I walked step by step to Owen. Less than half a meter separated us. I opened the box, picked up the dazzling diamond ring, and held it up to the light. “It’s beautiful.” Evelyn’s jealousy was practically oozing from her eyes. I let out a soft laugh. “No special meaning.” I looked at Owen’s ashen face, then loosened my fingers. Clink. The diamond ring dropped onto the polished marble floor with a crisp sound, then rolled to Owen’s feet. I lifted my foot, and my stiletto heel landed precisely on the setting. I pressed down, hard. The expensive platinum setting instantly warped, and the rare blue diamond popped free from the twisted metal, rolling into a patch of dust. “I just saw someone really wanted it, and I thought it would be fun.” I lifted my foot, scraping my heel on the carpet, as if I’d stepped in something vile. I met Owen’s gaze, a stunningly beautiful smile on my face: “I bought it just to hear it shatter. And to let Mr. Owen know…” “Anything I don’t want, I’d rather destroy than let you have.” Owen’s vision blurred, and a surge of blood rushed to his head. “Ding! Target detected generating ‘rage-induced internal disruption’ and ‘minor internal injuries’.” “Congratulations, Host! Rare reward triggered: Skill Book: God-Tier Business Acumen!”

Aurora POV Three days later, I was in my Elysium Tower suite, enjoying a Luxury Spa Treatment courtesy of the system. After the system’s repair, my face was completely free of the fire-induced scars. My skin was as fair as snow, and the timid ugly duckling who once lived subserviently in Owen’s house had finally transformed into a swan. “Aurora, look at the TV!” Sophia called, her voice seething. “Evelyn, that total snake, is stirring up trouble again!” I casually switched on the TV. On the screen was a talk show called “The Lady’s Code”. Evelyn, in a white dress with exquisite makeup, was asked by the host: “Ms. Evelyn, Mr. Owen couldn’t secure that diamond ring for you at the auction. Do you regret it?” A flicker of annoyance crossed Evelyn’s face, but it vanished instantly. “No regrets. Owen and I are true love.” Facing the camera, Evelyn adjusted her posture, revealing her snow-white swan neck. That perfectly measured vulnerability on her face was textbook acting. “Actually, I truly don’t care about diamond rings.” Her voice was soft, like a feather brushing against a heart, with a slight tremor. “Owen and I are never held together by material things. Our story, our connection, began with that devastating fire three years ago.” The host immediately sat up straight. This was big news. Everyone in the city knew Owen had miraculously survived a fire three years ago, but exactly who saved him had always been a mystery. Evelyn took a deep breath, seemingly lost in memory. “Everyone knows Owen was gravely injured then. The fire was too intense. Everyone was running out, but I…I went against the crowd, running back inside. I’m a weak woman. I can’t even open a bottle cap normally. But in that moment, I had only one thought. Even if I died, I’d die with him.” I was sipping lemon water and almost choked laughing. Can’t twist open a bottle cap? The last time she was at the mall, fighting for a limited edition handbag, Evelyn shoved two sales assistants aside, almost making them fall. On screen, Evelyn carefully took a velvet box from her handbag and opened it. Inside lay half of a broken antique silver pendant, engraved with a family crest. Even in its fractured state, its quality was unmistakable. The break was jagged, violent, as if torn apart by sheer force. “This pendant…” Evelyn’s eyes instantly shimmered with tears that hovered, refusing to fall. “It was my mother’s protective charm. It broke the day I saved Owen.” “Though it’s only half now, to me, it’s infinitely more precious than any hundred-million-dollar diamond. Because it witnessed the moment we almost died… together. It’s proof of what I risked my life for.” The camera, understanding the moment, zoomed in for a close-up. The half-pendant gleamed coldly in the light. screen, the host was already dabbing her eyes, overcome. “Oh, Ms. Evelyn…you’re a true heroine! This is a real-life fairy tale! Can you share…how did the pendant break?” Evelyn delicately blotted the corner of her eye, her voice thick with manufactured emotion. “The smoke was too thick. I was trying to pull Owen to safety, and I…I fell. My strength just gave out. The pendant struck the edge of a step.” ” I couldn’t find the other half. Owen was fading, so I pressed this piece into his hand. I told him, ‘This is my guardian charm. It will keep you safe.’” At the emotional peak, she lifted her gaze, letting it lock steadily with the camera. “Later, when Owen recovered, he returned it to me. He said it wasn’t just a token. It was half my life. And he promised to spend his life guarding this half, and guarding me.” “Wow!” The studio audience erupted in applause and gasps. The online chat went wild. “A fairy-tale romance! This must be why Mr. Owen is so devoted to Evelyn!” “Now this is the true grace of a lady of the house, who is that ex-wife Aurora anyway?” “Evelyn is so inspiring, I’ve soaked a whole pack of tissues.” I stared at the enlarged, broken pendant on the screen. My pupils contracted. A sharp, sudden pain detonated behind my eyes. Clatter. The glass slipped, shattered on the carpet, lemon water soaking my dress. I pressed my temples. That pendant…that break… Deep in my mind, a rusted lock was smashed open. Excruciating pain. Then, a scalding tide. Memories were no longer fragments, but vivid, burning reality, surging in a relentless torrent. Fire, dense smoke, the searing pain of a collapsing beam, shielding a blurry figure beneath me, and the cold, turning back of a woman… “Hiss…” My hand flew to my temple as a cold sweat broke across my forehead. Ding! Host has touched a ‘Core Memory Trigger Point’. System Alert: Memory restoration in progress…20% complete.

Aurora POV That fire three years ago not only destroyed half the train station but also burned away parts of my memory. The images deep in my mind gradually pieced together, no longer fragmented, but a coherent reality laced with searing heat. My mother died young, my father’s business failed, and he fell ill, never recovering. On his deathbed, he penned a letter with trembling hands, telling me I absolutely had to deliver it to Owen’s grandfather in person. “Aurora,” my father had said, “Owen’s grandfather is an old acquaintance, and my benefactor. He will look after you.” But as soon as I got off the train, before I could even glimpse the city’s grandeur, I was swept into a hellish inferno. I remembered carrying someone, heavy, their weight making my spine protest. Was it the fifth or sixth person I’d rescued? I couldn’t remember. I just recalled a splintering crash above me as I neared the exit. I instinctively shielded the person on my back, and then, with a deafening roar, the world plunged into darkness. When I awoke, I was in a sterile, antiseptic-smelling hospital bed, a sharp, persistent ache in my jaw. When the nurse changed my dressing, she forgot to cover the mirror beside me. To my horror, I saw that my once delicate face now bore a hideous, centipede-like scar on the left side of my jaw. In that moment, my world had shattered. If not for my father’s letter, I probably would have found some secluded town to live out my remaining days in obscurity. With the letter, and this ruined face, I found the Owen family. Owen’s grandfather read the letter, tears streaming down his face – genuine grief. “My old friend, you were too stubborn!” The old man cried, slapping his thigh. “You saved my life, I owe you my life!” That was the day I first met Owen. He had also just recovered from the fire, his arm still bandaged, his stern face etched with pure defiance. The old man’s decision was immediate. “Owen, this is the daughter of my friend, our family’s benefactor. You will marry her.” Owen sneered, his gaze a cold blade scraping across the scar on my face, his disgust bare and deliberate. “Grandpa, have you lost your mind? Marry her? My savior is Evelyn, and the only person I’ll marry is Evelyn!” “You insolent child! We don’t even know for certain who saved you!” The old man’s cane struck the floor with furious, staccato blows. “That Evelyn is a liar through and through! Mark my words, she is trouble! Aurora is an excellent girl, the daughter of my benefactor. This marriage is final! Refuse, and you can forget about inheriting the Owen Group in three years!” For the billions in family wealth, Owen compromised. But all his resentment poured out onto me. On our wedding day, he didn’t get me a ring, and he wouldn’t even take a single photo with me. For three years after, he never took me to any public events. I was a transparent shadow in the Owen household. I was so foolish back then, my self-esteem shattered by this face. I felt like a defective product, and I was grateful that Owen would give me a home, even if it was an ice-cold prison. I tried to be a perfect wife, managing the household, enduring his cold sarcasm, enduring his nights spent with Evelyn instead of me. I thought his heart would eventually soften. Until the day Owen secured the family inheritance. His first act was to fling the divorce papers in my face. Like a receding tide, the past washed away. My eyes snapped open, vision sharpening back onto the TV screen. On screen, Evelyn was still maudlinly flaunting that half of my pendant. I picked up my phone and called Sophia. “Get me a spot,” I said, my voice low. Outside, city lights bled into the room, their neon glow reflecting in my eyes like twin flames. “I hear The Lady’s Code is casting a challenge guest.” Sophia hesitated. “They are. But that’s a skills-based show. Evelyn’s a regular. You’d just be her foil.” “Her foil?” “No. I’m going to make her wish she’d never been born.” Ding. Host detected generating ‘Fierce Revenge and Ambition’. System Mission: Participate in ‘The Lady’s Code’ and completely overshadow Evelyn in your debut. Mission Reward: ‘All-Round Talent Shop’ unlocked. I hung up and stared intently at my reflection in the mirror.. Evelyn. Owen. Are you ready for the hell?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “335419”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #励志Inspiring #重生Reborn

I was Elara, the false heiress of the Montgomery family. To clear the path for their real daughter to marry her true love, my adoptive family forced me into an arranged marriage. My groom was her infamous, ruthless fiancé, Dominic Thorne. On my wedding day, everyone pitied me. But my only concern was the secret life growing inside me. Just as Father Michael asked if I would take him as my husband, I heard a voice from within my womb. “Mom, say yes! Do it now, or your self-righteous sister wins!” “You think you are entering hell. But Dominic has loved you in secret for ten years!” “Your sweet, caring true love is a fraud. He is marrying Seraphina Montgomery only to steal the family fortune.” “Say yes. Or tonight, both of us will be staged as an accident and drowned in the river.” I snapped my head up and stared at the man everyone called ruthless and cold. I stood beneath the harsh glare of the spotlights. Father Michael’s solemn vows hummed in my ears. “Miss Elara, do you take Mr. Dominic Thorne to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward…” Did I? My hand moved instinctively to my stomach, where a three-month-old life pulsed softly. My baby. Jasper’s and mine. For him, I had to refuse. I couldn’t chain myself to that tyrant, Dominic, and drag us both into ruin. Below the stage, my gentle Jasper Hayes watched me with a look that carved through my heart. Beside him, my so-called sister Seraphina held his arm with quiet possession, a smile of pure victory already curving her lips. I drew a slow breath, poised to voice that single, defiant word: No. “Mom! Have you lost your mind?! Just say ‘I do’!” A tiny, urgent voice detonated inside my skull. My body stiffened. I instinctively scanned my surroundings. Who was speaking? “Stop searching! It’s me, the best kid you’ll ever have, right here in your belly!” “Oh my God, you’re not seriously thinking of backing out for that scumbag down there, are you? He was with Seraphina in the green room this morning. He said once you marry Dominic, that living nightmare, you’ll be driven insane within three months. Then he’d sweep in like a hero, ‘rescue’ you, and ‘deal with’ you and your baby for good.” What? My mind went blank. An icy hand seemed to clamp around my heart, choking off my air. Jasper…wants to ‘deal with’ us? No. That’s impossible. He loves me. He promised to wait, to find a way to save me from this. “Love-struck idiot, you’re unbelievable! Mom, open your eyes! If he loved you, would he have knocked up Seraphina? Would he have shoved you into this marriage with Dominic?” “Oh, wait. My bad. Seraphina’s baby…isn’t even his.” My head jerked up. My gaze locked onto the ‘perfect couple’ in the front row. Seraphina was pregnant too. With that child, she had finally secured her engagement to Jasper. And I, the false heiress who had stolen her place for eighteen years, was nothing but a peace offering from the Montgomerys to the Thornes, neatly packaged and delivered. “Her baby? It belongs to your dear brother, Arthur Montgomery. Tsk, what a mess. A sister pregnant by her own brother, then marrying some outside fling? Your family certainly knows how to have a good time.” The sheer volume of revelations stunned me. How could this be? It was utterly absurd! “And there’s more! You think you’re marrying hell, but this is heaven. The man before you, Dominic, has loved you secretly for ten years. Since high school. Every gift you ever gave Jasper, he threw in the trash. And every time, that poor fool Dominic would retrieve them and cherish each one like a treasure.” “Say yes, now. If you hesitate any longer, Jasper will activate his backup plan. He has already arranged everything. Tonight, he will stage an accident to ensure both of us end up dead at the bottom of the river. Then he will not only claim compensation from the Thornes but also smoothly take over the Montgomery family. He plans to kill three birds with one stone.” An icy dread shot from my feet to the crown of my head. I felt all the blood in my veins turn to ice. My supposed great love was nothing but a carefully laid trap. And the abyss I feared was, in fact, my only path to survival. Father Michael, seeing my prolonged silence, repeated. “Miss Elara, will you-” “Wait.” A clear, cold voice cut through his words. It was Dominic. The man who had not spoken a single word since the ceremony began finally turned his head to look at me. His features were carved from ice, devoid of all warmth. Yet in those unfathomably dark eyes, I thought I caught a flicker of something… nervousness? “If you don’t want this, you can leave right now,” he said. A murmur rippled through the crowd. Jasper’s fists clenched instantly, and Seraphina’s smile froze on her face. I saw Jasper’s lips form the silent command: Elara, refuse him. “Mom! Don’t buy his act! Walk out today, and they’ll fish us out of the river tomorrow. He’s banking on you being too afraid of a public scene to actually do it!” I closed my eyes. When I opened them,  all the despair and grief had been forged into icy hatred. I met Dominic’s gaze, then, under the shocked stares of everyone present, I spoke each word, clear as a bell. “I do.”

The wedding concluded in an unsettling silence. Dominic drove me directly to his secluded villa in the hills. The entire ride was filled with a deathly silence. Several times, I wanted to ask him about the ‘ten-year secret crush’ rumor, but looking at his profile, colder than an iceberg, all my words got stuck in my throat. Maybe the Little One wasn’t entirely right. Secretly in love with me for ten years? Impossible. A man like Dominic, at the pinnacle of power, could have any woman he wanted. Why would he waste his time on a fake heiress like me? The villa was vast, decorated in minimalist cool tones, so empty it lacked any warmth, much like its owner. “Your room is over there.” Dominic pointed to a guest room at the end of the hall, his voice devoid of warmth. “Our marriage is merely a contract, for one year. During this year, stay in your lane, don’t cause me trouble. After a year, I’ll give you a sum of money, and we’ll be even.” My heart sank. The faint spark of hope that had ignited at the wedding, after saying ‘I do,’ was completely extinguished by his cold words. Just as I’d thought, I’d been delusional. “Okay,” I murmured, preparing to go upstairs. “Wait,” he called out again. I turned back, a flicker of hope I hadn’t even recognized myself stirring within me. He pulled a black card from his pocket and tossed it onto the console table in the entryway. “No pin, spend as you wish.” Then, he walked directly into his study, not sparing me another glance. I stood frozen, feeling like a commodity with a price tag. Humiliation, embarrassment, and a flicker of unidentifiable disappointment washed over me. Just then, my phone rang, an ill-timed interruption. It was Mrs. Montgomery. I pressed ‘answer.’ Before I could even speak, a barrage of reprimands rained down on me. “Elara, have your wings grown, have they? Get your butt back here tomorrow, immediately!” “Mrs. Montgomery, is there something wrong?” I gripped my phone tighter. “Wrong? Your sister is heartbroken over your little stunt with Dominic! Even with Jasper, she can’t bring herself to eat. And you, as her older sister-shouldn’t you be here, comforting her? Let me make this clear. If you hadn’t stolen eighteen years of Seraphina’s life, she wouldn’t be going through this hell!” Her every word was like a needle, sharply piercing my heart. “Seraphina is the true Montgomery heiress, and Jasper was always meant for her! You’re nothing but a fraud, and marrying into the Thorne family is a blessing you don’t deserve, so don’t you dare be ungrateful!” “I…” Humiliation burned. I bit my lower lip, almost agreeing. A large, strong hand, knuckles prominent, suddenly reached over my shoulder and took my phone. I gasped, turning to meet Dominic’s icy gaze. I hadn’t even noticed him emerge from the study. He brought the phone to his ear. I only heard him speak in a chilling, unquestionable tone: “The Thorne family doesn’t apologize to anyone.” Mrs. Montgomery on the other end seemed stunned, then her voice turned sickly sweet. “Mr. Thorne, I… I didn’t mean it like that. I just wanted Elara to come home and visit…” “My wife,” Dominic cut her off, “from today forward, her only duty is to take care of herself. As for comforting others, she’s busy, and I won’t allow it.” He hung up abruptly, handing my phone back. Throughout the entire exchange, his expression remained unchanged. After that, he turned to the waiting butler. “Prepare a light supper for my wife.” Then, without another backward glance, he ascended the stairs. I stood there, dumbfounded, my heart pounding uncontrollably. “Hehe, Mom, I told you! He’s just a big softie underneath!” “His words sound so harsh, but his actions are louder than anyone’s. He wasn’t reading a single word in his study just now; he was totally eavesdropping on us! The second he heard you being bullied, he rushed right out!” “He’s blushing! Definitely blushing!”

The early pregnancy symptoms were tormenting me. I had planned to tough it out, but Dominic turned out to be even more anxious than me. The next morning, he practically dragged me out of bed and insisted on taking me to his private hospital for a prenatal check-up. “I’m not going, I’m fine,” I protested, struggling. “Quiet,” he commanded in an unquestionable tone. “This child isn’t yours alone.” I froze. Was he… willing to accept this child? My heart fluttered with unease the entire ride. At the hospital, just as we stepped out of the car, we ran straight into an unexpected pair. Jasper was meticulously supporting Seraphina, who leaned weakly into his embrace, her face pale, looking utterly fragile and helpless. Speak of the devil. “Elara?” Jasper froze when he saw me, then his face contorted into an expression of profound tenderness and pain. He released Seraphina and hurried toward me. “Elara, what are you doing here? Is he… is he treating you badly? You look so pale.” As he spoke, Seraphina immediately reddened her eyes, whimpering plaintively. “Elara, don’t blame Jasper. He’s just worried about you. Are you… are you okay? Mr. Thorne, he hasn’t been difficult, has he?” Her ‘innocent’ act made my stomach churn with nausea. “Whether I’m fine or not is none of your concern,” I replied, my voice icy. A flash of pained surprise crossed Jasper’s face. “Elara, how can you say that? I know you’re still angry with me. But don’t worry. I’ll find a way to get you out of this mess soon.” As he spoke, he reached out to me, seemingly trying to take my arm. His hypocritical face made me want to throw up. “Mom! Don’t let him touch you! Absolutely not!” In my mind, the Little One’s voice suddenly turned shrill and terrified. “He has a syringe in his pocket! It’s full of high-dose abortion drugs! He wants to inject you with it when he grabs you, then fake an accidental miscarriage and blame everything on Dad!” My pupils instantly constricted. I gasped, stumbling backward a large step, and bumped into a solid chest. Dominic had appeared behind me without me noticing. One arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me securely into his embrace. He noticed my distress. “What’s wrong?” he asked, looking down at me, a hint of barely perceptible tension in his voice. Still shaken, I couldn’t utter a word, only clinging desperately to his sleeve. Dominic looked up, his icy gaze piercing Jasper. Jasper’s hand, still suspended in mid-air, froze awkwardly. “Mr. Hayes,” Dominic began, each word laced with ice, “extending your hand so far, are you trying to interfere with my family affairs?” Jasper’s face instantly turned ashen. “Mr. Thorne, you misunderstand, I was just concerned for Elara, she looked unwell.” “Concern?” Dominic scoffed. “My wife’s well-being is not a matter for strangers to concern themselves with.” He wrapped his arm around me and turned to leave. Just as he brushed past Jasper, he paused, speaking in a voice only the three of us could hear: “Jasper, control your hands. Next time, I won’t hesitate to cut them off for you.” The sheer menace in his voice made even me shiver. My body was still trembling even after we stepped into the elevator. Dominic didn’t say anything, only pulling me closer. “Whoa! Dad’s so cool! Total boyfriend material!” “Mom, did you see? That scumbag Jasper’s face went completely green! Serves him right! Mess with my mom, and you’re dead!”

The Montgomery family hosted a dinner, claiming it was to mend fences. Mrs. Montgomery’s voice on the phone had been dripping with sincerity, saying she knew she was wrong, and Seraphina knew too, begging me for a chance to make amends. Dominic answered the call. I thought he’d refuse, just like last time. But to my surprise, he said. “Fine, we’ll be there on time.” I looked at him, puzzled. He only said. “Some things need to be settled face-to-face.” I understood then; he wanted to stand up for me. But I never imagined this so-called family dinner was actually a meticulously prepared grave for me. In the dining room, the Montgomery family was effusively welcoming, more than ever before. Mr. Montgomery clapped Dominic on the shoulder, calling him ‘good son-in-law’ repeatedly. Arthur Montgomery also came over, feigning friendliness, to offer a toast, but his hypocritical eyes kept darting to my stomach. I just felt sick. After a few rounds of drinks, Mrs. Montgomery herself carried a bowl of soup to me. “Elara, dear, this is a calming soup I personally made for you. Drink it while it’s warm. I was wrong before, please don’t take it to heart.” She smiled with such maternal affection, as if I were her own daughter. I stared at the dark, murky liquid in the bowl, a sinister premonition washing over me. “Don’t drink it! Mom! It’s abortion poison! A hundred times stronger than what Jasper prepared last time!” The Little One’s frantic scream drilled into my brain like an electric drill. “They’re in league with Jasper! They want you to drink it in front of everyone, then pin the murder of the Montgomery grandchild on you and Dad! They’re insane!” My hands and feet instantly went cold. I snapped my head up, my gaze sweeping past Mrs. Montgomery’s hypocritical face, to an unfolding scene nearby. Seraphina and Jasper stood side-by-side at the top of the stairs on the second floor. She leaned against the railing, looking down at me with a condescending, utterly venomous smile. In that instant, everything clicked. It was a death trap. A no-win situation. Either I drank this poisoned soup and both the baby and I perished. Or, even if I avoided the soup, they’d force me to the stairs under some other pretext, and Seraphina would ‘accidentally’ push me down, leading to the same outcome. They had calculated every move. Today, I was trapped, unable to escape. All eyes were on me. Mrs. Montgomery still gently urged. “Elara, why aren’t you drinking? It’s getting cold.” Upstairs, Jasper watched me with an expectant, amused gaze. Dominic seemed to sense something, beginning to rise. But it was too late. I looked at the soup, then at that despicable pair by the stairs. The last shred of illusion I held for this family shattered completely. Fine. If you want my life so badly, then I’ll give it to you. Under everyone’s shocked gazes, I picked up the bowl. Then I whirled and flung the scalding contents straight into the face of Jasper, who stood nearest. Amid his raw scream, I didn’t pause. I used every ounce of strength I had, charging like a madwoman towards the stairs. Seraphina’s triumphant smile hadn’t yet dissolved before she saw me barreling toward her like a wrecking ball. She shrieked in terror, instinctively trying to push me away. But I wasn’t aiming for her at all. Just one step from her, I pivoted. I threw my full weight, not at her, but against the unforgiving wooden banister. Then I fell. The world spun. Excruciating pain ripped through my entire body. With my last bit of strength, I fiercely shielded my belly. Blood spread beneath me, staining my white gown crimson. Before consciousness completely faded, I saw the horrified faces of the Montgomery family, the ashen lips of Seraphina and Jasper, and Dominic rushing towards me, his face a mask of agony. I looked at them, my heart utterly calm. This life, I’m giving it back to you. From now on, we owe each other nothing.

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In the supermarket, my daughter unwrapped a chocolate before we’d paid. I immediately took her to the checkout to apologize and offered to pay. But the cashier pointed at the security monitor and screamed. “So you’re the thief who’s been stealing thousands of dollars worth of my merchandise!” Then she threw an invoice in my face. “$15,000! Pay now, or I’m calling the police!” I bit back my anger but couldn’t help arguing. “But this is our first time here today.” She crossed her arms, scanning me with blatant contempt. “My husband owns this whole street. Pay up, or I’ll have him sue you!” I laughed, a dry, joyless sound. How was it I didn’t know my husband had another wife? Just last month, the rent for every shop on this street was deposited into my account. Every cent, on time. She stood there, arms crossed, chin held high, her voice dripping with contempt. “Stop pretending. Look at yourself, dressed in cheap rags, you’re clearly trash. No wonder you raised a thief!” “You’re not leaving until you pay. Otherwise, I’ll have my husband send you both straight to jail!” With that, she lunged forward and grabbed for my daughter at my daughter. “Mommy, I’m scared…” My daughter, terrified, hid behind me, her small face pressed into my pant leg, trembling slightly. I glared fiercely at Tiffany and slapped her hand away before she could grab my daughter again. Then, I quickly bent down and scooped my daughter into my arms. Feeling her tiny body tremble, a fierce anger flared in my chest. “Pull up the surveillance footage, now.” I let my gaze drop to the name on her tag, my voice steady. “Tiffany, stick to the facts. If you’re so certain my daughter is a regular thief, pull up all the footage. Show me conclusive proof, and I’ll pay ten times the price.” I know my daughter. She’s three. She can’t even tie her shoes. And this is the first time we’ve ever stepped foot in this place. Tiffany’s eyes flickered. She then scanned us up and down with disgust, placed her hands on her hips, and sneered. “Footage? You think you can just demand that? Who do you think you are?” “In this store, I make the rules. We caught you. Pay now, or I’m calling my husband to have his men deal with you.” Her voice rose, sharp and carrying. “Everyone! Take a look! A thief and her little thief-in-training! A whole family of crooks!” Her shout drew the handful of customers in the store. They quickly gathered, a murmuring circle of onlookers, fingers pointing, eyes darting between me and my daughter. An older woman with a perm scoffed and shook her head. “Stealing so young, and the parent’s not even ashamed.” Another woman waiting in line nodded, her voice pitched high with judgment. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. If the mother had any morals, the child wouldn’t be a thief!” A younger woman from a nearby couple wrinkled her nose and tugged her boyfriend’s arm. “Disgusting. We come for milk and run into a crime scene. Let’s move before their vibe gets on us.” Her boyfriend’s gaze raked over my clothes, his lip curling. “Just look at her. Can’t even dress decently. Probably taught the kid to steal ’cause she’s broke. Pathetic.” Emboldened by the crowd’s murmurs, Tiffany swelled with self-righteous fury. She seized the moment, her voice swelling to a roar. “See? It’s downright cruel! Some women have no business being mothers! Too lazy to make an honest living, so they turn their own flesh and blood into little thieves. Kids raised like that are nothing but future leeches on society.” “I bet she’s a career thief. If she doesn’t pay today, we should strip her and march her down the street. Let everyone see what a real thief looks like!” Tiffany’s eyes raked over me as she spoke, hot with a vicious hunger, as if she were already picturing it. The whispers from the crowd felt like poisoned knives, stabbing me all over. Every word was laced with the most vicious prejudice and mockery, as if they wanted to nail my daughter and me to a pillar of shame, ensuring we’d never recover. “I didn’t steal anything.” Lily sniffled in my arms, tears dripping down. “Mommy, I really just unwrapped the chocolate by accident. I know I was wrong.” “But I really didn’t mean to.” Of course, I knew my daughter hadn’t meant to. And right from the start, I had offered to pay. It was Tiffany who was being greedy, refusing to listen to reason. I kissed my daughter’s forehead, then turned to Tiffany, my gaze turning icy cold. “I’ve already told you, my daughter unwrapped the chocolate by mistake, and when we came to the checkout, I immediately offered to pay. It’s you who is baselessly accusing us of stealing $15,000 worth of merchandise. I’m giving you one last chance: apologize now, or you’ll regret it.” Tiffany laughed as if she’d heard the funniest joke, her gums clearly visible. “Are you kidding me? Apologize? Can’t you see everyone here knows the truth? Who do you think they’re talking about? Apologize to you? You’re dreaming!” I clenched my fists, taking a deep breath. My head was starting to ache terribly. Then I spoke coldly, “You won’t apologize, fine. Then pull up the surveillance footage!” “If you can’t pull up the footage, then call whoever is in charge here, and let them pull it up! Or call your husband, that works too!” I quietly turned on my phone’s recording function, then found a stool to sit on, holding my daughter close and gently comforting her. My daughter couldn’t stop sobbing. “Mommy, I want to go home…” “Don’t be scared, sweetheart,” I gently wiped away her tears. “Once we get this sorted, Mommy will take you home.” Seeing me and my daughter calmly seated on the chair, Tiffany frowned. Then, as if an idea struck her, her expression changed, and she immediately plastered on a honey-sweet smile, pulling out her phone and dialing. “Hello? Honey, there’s trouble at the store, and a thief kid with her mom! Come quick, please.” Hanging up, she wagged her phone triumphantly. She slammed her hand on the counter, making the snack jars buzz. “My husband will be here any minute! This whole street belongs to him! You two are finished!” “Unless you apologize to me now and pay $100,000, I’ll call the police immediately and send you straight to jail!”

Was she crazy? Watching Tiffany’s ugly, greedy face, I almost laughed out loud. How could someone just make up prices like that? But before I could retort, my daughter was already crying hysterically, gasping for breath. After all, I’m an adult, I can handle the psychological pressure. But Lily was only three. The whispers and accusations from the crowd, and all the judgmental stares, were too much for her small body to bear. My daughter was crying uncontrollably, sobbing and clinging tightly to my leg. “Mommy, I’m scared… let’s go home… please, can we go home?” My heart ached as I squatted down to hug my daughter, gently patting her back, constantly reassuring her. It was then that a woman in a business suit, with long, wavy, tea-colored hair, walked in, carrying the latest Chanel bag. As soon as she entered, she frowned. “Tiffany, what’s going on? All this shouting.” Seeing who it was, Tiffany immediately said proudly, “My husband is a CEO and he’s too busy, so he sent his secretary, Scarlett, to help me!” “You’re finally here! This mother and daughter stole thousands of dollars worth of snacks from our store, and I just asked them to pay, but they not only refused, they tried to argue and accuse me of framing them! And they tried to hit me!” The woman’s face instantly darkened at her words. She immediately walked to the surveillance screen, glanced at it, and pointed at several blurry, unidentifiable small figures at different time segments. She then turned to me and said, “See for yourself, who else could this be but your daughter?” “Wearing a pink jacket, with a ponytail, exactly like this little thief next to you. The evidence is conclusive, what more do you have to say?” “Just pay the amount Tiffany asked for, or I’ll have my boss, the owner of this street, kick you off this street and never allow you to step foot here again!” I looked at the footage she pulled up and couldn’t help but sneer. That pink jacket looked nothing like my daughter’s, except for being pink. And there were countless little girls with ponytails across the country. Could they really condemn us based on such blurry footage? Besides, during those time segments she pulled up, my daughter and I were on vacation in Bali! I took a deep breath, just about to reveal my identity and tell them exactly whose property this street truly was, and expose that the woman wasn’t my husband’s secretary. But Tiffany suddenly stepped forward and shoved my daughter to the ground. “Stop dragging your feet! Pay up, or I won’t be so nice!” My daughter fell, and the soft palm of her hand instantly scraped, leaving a trail of blood. My rage instantly ignited. I swung my hand and slapped Tiffany across the face. “Who gave you permission to touch my daughter?” She froze, stunned by the slap, then let out a piercing shriek that almost tore through the roof. “You Bitch, who gave you permission to hit me?! I’ll fight you to the death!” With that, Tiffany waved her long, manicured nails, flailing her arms as she lunged at me. But her hand didn’t even touch me; I sidestepped, dodging her. Tiffany lost her balance and fell to the ground, becoming even more furious. “You dare to dodge?!” “I can’t touch you, but I can touch the little one! I’ll rip her face to shreds! I’ll make her just like you, learning bad habits at a young age! A thief when she’s little, and a cheap hooker when she grows up!” She yelled, reaching out again to grab my daughter. My daughter cried even harder, terrified. Seeing my daughter’s pale face, I immediately shielded her behind me, my eyes as cold as ice as I looked at Tiffany. “Try to touch her again.” “First, the amount you claim we stole keeps changing, from $1,500 to $100,000. Which is it? Are you playing some kind of price-gouging game?” “Second, watch your language. My daughter picked up a chocolate. From the moment I realized it, I offered to pay. There was no attempt to avoid payment. What you’re doing is extortion, plain and simple.” “I should be the one calling the police to arrest you!” Tiffany’s eyes darted nervously.

Her gaze flickered wildly, darting left and right. “Scarlett, listen to me…” The other woman only smiled, a faint, cold curve of her lips. Then she haughtily tilted her head back. She cast a scornful glance at me. “My sister doesn’t need anyone else to criticize her!” No wonder she was defending Tiffany so fiercely; they were sisters! “My sister says you stole it, so you definitely stole it!” “What’s a pair of thieves got to argue about?! And you had the nerve to lay a hand on someone! Let me make one thing clear: on this street, nobody talks to us sisters that way.” “A hundred grand is nothing. If my sister said a million, you’d pay it. This whole block belongs to her husband! His connections run deeper than anyone’s in this city. You don’t pay today, you’re going to jail. And I’ll make sure you can’t get hired to sweep a floor in this town. You’ll be finished here. Washed up. And you’ll crawl out of this city with nothing.” This was truly amusing. I couldn’t help but laugh. As the heir to a family with hundreds of millions in assets, it was the first time anyone had ever told me to get lost. But my smile froze before it could fully form. Tiffany swung her handbag and violently slammed it into my face. “Bitch! What are you laughing at?!” The metal zipper clasp swiftly cut a gash across my face, drawing blood. “Blood… Mommy… Mommy’s face is bleeding.” My daughter’s sobs paused, then erupted even more fiercely. “Daddy… I want to go home. Mommy, let’s go home. Let Daddy hit her… bad woman, she’s hurting you.” I believe in an eye for an eye. With my daughter’s cries ringing in my ears, I grabbed a handful of Tiffany’s long hair. I aimed for her elaborately made-up face and slapped her, hard, not once but several times. I yanked her hair hard, pulling her body flush against mine. Let me tell you something. Growing up, I didn’t just have wealth. I had strength, and I knew exactly how to use it. “No one has ever laid a hand on me. Who do you think you are, hitting me?” With that, I swung my palm again, giving her cheeks an even, matching swell. The surrounding whispers cut off, plunging the scene into dead silence. Then a powerful force struck me from behind. I was kicked hard, sending me sprawling to the ground.

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The city’s billionaire mogul publicly announced his search for all 100 children born from his past sperm donations. My best friend, Leo Maxwell, knew he was one of them and was thrilled to claim kinship. I, Liam Blackwood, kindly advised him that the mogul was gravely ill, and his search might have ulterior motives. I told him to observe the situation first. Leo listened, holding back from connecting with him. Later, the mogul died, and all the recognized children inherited millions. Leo, convinced I had cost him his fortune, ruthlessly stabbed me to death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day Leo came to tell me he was the billionaire’s son. I was shaken awake roughly, my body jolting. Opening my eyes again, I saw my best friend, Leo, beaming with excitement by my bed, rousing me. “Dude, you won’t believe it! I’m actually the billionaire’s son!” I felt a dizzying sense of déjà vu, instinctively pulling back, avoiding his closeness. My hand went to my throat. The suffocating memory of Leo, in a fit of madness, plunging a knife into my jugular, made it hard to breathe. Just like in my previous life, Leo wildly gesticulated as he told me his biological father couldn’t have children due to low sperm count. Through some means, the couple acquired high-quality sperm and had him via IVF. And just yesterday, Mr. Sterling Thorne, the city’s mogul, had publicly released his sperm donation information, stating he wanted to find and acknowledge all children who shared his genes. Every child who claimed kinship would gain inheritance rights to his estate. “My genetic information matches Mr. Thorne’s exactly! I’m his son! Liam, should I go claim him as my father or not?” Leo stared at me, his face alight with wild joy. He’d always been a penny-pincher, and in college, his only ambition was to hook up with a rich woman so he could live a lavish life. But rich women rarely lacked male attention, and Leo was usually just a casual fling for them. That’s why, in my previous life, once Leo learned he was the billionaire’s son, he immediately wanted to claim kinship, to fulfill his dream of being a trust fund baby. However, I knew the mogul was gravely ill, and that he had a staggering 100 children born from his sperm donations. Concerned for Leo’s safety, I kindly advised him not to rush. “I heard many wealthy people use sperm donation to cultivate their mobile blood banks and natural organ supply stations. Plus, he didn’t try to find his kids earlier, only now that he’s seriously ill. You should really wait and see.” At the time, Leo had been dismissive. It wasn’t until he heard that several children who had gone to claim kinship had mysteriously disappeared that he gripped my hand, looking terrified, and said, “Thank goodness you warned me in time! Otherwise, I would have been finished!” Yet, it was this same person, who had expressed such gratitude, who later, after failing to charm the wealthy Scarlett Dubois and hearing that the mogul’s recognized children *did* inherit property, blamed me for blocking his path to riches. On my birthday, he lunged at my throat with a knife, stabbing me again and again, his voice choked with hatred: “If you hadn’t stopped me! I’d be a rich kid already! Scarlett wouldn’t have dumped me, and I wouldn’t be living this pathetic life!” “Liam! It’s all your fault! Just die!” But what he didn’t know was this: In my previous life, on the day he killed me, The police had just announced the scam. The mogul’s sperm donation was real, but the claims of kinship were fake. All the recognized children were just lab rats for a medical experiment. The inheritance rights were real, but the mogul’s illness and death were fake. He had already transferred all his assets, simply waiting for the scam to unravel before faking his death. What he left behind wasn’t millions in inheritance, but millions in debt. And I hadn’t had the chance to tell Leo any of this before I died by his knife. The image of Leo’s eyes, brimming with vengeful satisfaction in my memory, overlapped with the fervent gaze of the Leo standing before me now. This time, I offered no more warnings. I just curled my lips into a slight smile: “Congrats.” I chose to respect his destiny.

Leo’s face was smug, as if he could already see his glorious future as a trust fund baby. “Tomorrow, I’m going to the testing agency mentioned in the mogul’s announcement for a blood test. Once I’m a rich kid, I can live anywhere I want!” He glanced around our apartment with disdain, pursing his lips. “When that happens, I’ll have my dad get me a mansion. I won’t be cramming into this run-down, cramped apartment with you anymore. It’s beneath me.” I scoffed inwardly. When Leo couldn’t find a job and had no income, he came begging to share this apartment with me, a very different look on his face then. Moreover, while it was technically a shared lease, Leo hadn’t paid a single month’s rent. He never lifted a finger for any housework, from sweeping and washing dishes to hanging laundry and taking out the trash. Each time, I had to ask him, and he’d begrudgingly do chores, calling it “helping” me. Thinking back on all those years of thankless effort, I wanted to slap myself. It would be great if he moved out. That way, if anything went wrong, he couldn’t pin it on me again. I quickly nodded. “You’re absolutely right! This neighborhood isn’t nearly good enough for your status. Your billionaire dad should get you dozens of huge houses!” “Definitely!” Leo visibly puffed up at my flattery. “And don’t say I never gave you a chance to show your appreciation. Drive me to that testing agency tomorrow.” I raised an eyebrow, quickly declining. “My car’s been in the shop for days. Why don’t you have your girlfriend drive you? Knowing your true identity, you’re not afraid she’d break up with you now, right?” My words hit a nerve with Leo. He’d recently been dating a wealthy woman, constantly showing off designer watches she’d bought him. But he also knew she looked down on him for having no background, and it was just a casual thing. Leo’s unhappy expression instantly shifted back to a smug one. “What can you earn with that crappy hospital job of yours? No common sense at all. Fine, my girlfriend can barely be considered on my level now, so having her drive me and see things for herself might be good.” With that, he strutted back into his room, brimming with self-satisfaction. In my previous life, after his sugar mama had enough of him, she unceremoniously dumped him. He went to her company to cause a scene and ended up encountering her new, much younger boyfriend. This new guy, eager to impress, immediately started punching and kicking Leo, calling him a pathetic loser trying to snag a trophy wife. Back then, I was foolish enough to try and reason with him. But Leo didn’t blame the sugar mama; instead, he blamed me entirely for stopping him from claiming kinship. He believed I had ruined his chance at a wealthy life and swore to never let me go. This time, I wouldn’t interfere with his choices. Watching Leo close his bedroom door, I immediately messaged my boss to request time off and booked a moving company. The next day, while Leo was out, I packed and moved all my personal belongings, leaving only the common area furniture. As for what Leo would do when the rental contract expired, That was no longer my concern. Following the principle of avoiding misery, when you encounter toxic people, distance yourself immediately instead of getting entangled!

After a frantic morning, I finally settled all my belongings into my new place when I received another call from Leo. “I came here for my test today, and they gave me a packet of pills. They said I have to take them all before I can claim kinship. Aren’t you a medical student? Hurry up and check if these pills are safe.” Listening to Leo’s demanding tone, I felt a chill in my heart. Leo used to be like this all the time. Just because I was a doctor, he constantly demanded that I get his relatives priority appointments, even hoping I’d pay for their treatments out of my own pocket. Every time I went out of my way to help them, Leo took it for granted and never even said thank you. “That falls under lab testing, and these pills are from your dad’s Everlife Pharmaceutical Group. If you want a detailed analysis of the ingredients, the testing fee would be at least ten thousand.” At my words, Leo immediately got agitated. “Aren’t you a doctor?! Liam, I considered you my best friend, and you’re talking about money with me now!” I sneered inwardly. Leo clearly felt something was off, so he instinctively came to me for reassurance, so that if anything went wrong, he could conveniently pin the blame on me. As if I’d fall for that again! On the other end of the line, Leo continued, “You won’t even help with something so simple! It’s like all my good deeds were wasted on you! And what about that time I saved you from the fire…” Hearing him bring that up, I dropped the act. “Leo, was it really you who saved me that day?” In junior high, my school building caught fire, and I fell unconscious. When I woke up, only Leo was by my side. He swore then that he had saved me, that I owed him my life, which led me to be at his beck and call for years, repaying his life-saving grace. It wasn’t until my previous life, on my deathbed, that he confessed, “I just couldn’t stand to see you doing well. That year, I deliberately locked you in the classroom, but I didn’t expect you to be so tough… “And since we were in the same hospital room, I decided to let you experience what it’s like to owe me for life!” Silence suddenly fell on the other end of the phone. After a long moment, Leo stammered, “What’s the fun in that, Liam? Is this how you treat me after I saved you? Stop messing around, just test these pills for me.” Listening to his childish words, I couldn’t help but let out a cold laugh. Actually, in my previous life, Leo had also secretly gone to the testing agency for a blood test, and after getting the pills, he immediately asked me about them. At that time, I paid out of pocket to send the pills to the most reputable and fastest testing agency. Sure enough, we found that the drug had not undergone any human trials. In short, Leo and the others were all lab rats for experiments. This was Everlife Group’s latest research project, marketed under the guise of “blood cleansing,” claiming it could filter harmful substances from the blood. And that elderly relatives could extend their lifespan and prevent aging by receiving blood from younger, blood-related family members. At the time, many of the people who claimed kinship and took this “blood cleansing pill” developed severe blood clotting disorders and organ failure, leading to numerous deaths. Leo, following my advice, didn’t take the pills and narrowly escaped. Afterward, however, he believed it was a necessary screening process by the mogul, that those who died from the pills were simply “unhealthy” children. He was convinced he would be the one to survive and ultimately inherit the fortune. He thought my persistent warnings were malicious and driven by jealousy, preventing him from joining the upper echelons of society. This time, I played along. “If you test these pills, and the mogul finds out, will he cancel your inheritance eligibility?” “Will… will he?” Leo hesitated on the phone. I smiled, calmly preparing to give him another push. “The mogul is your biological father, after all. He wouldn’t intentionally harm you, would he?” Leo seemed swayed by my words. “You’re right! Maybe this is just a test of kinship! He has so many children; he must be using the pills to select the most obedient ones to inherit his estate!” Yes, that’s right. It was indeed to screen for suitable, drug-tolerant lab rats who would eventually become the mogul’s ultimate mobile blood bank and endorsement for the Everlife experiments!

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