Eli’s “true love” always believed I had stolen her man. She came to confront me, but on her way, she accidentally started a wildfire. I didn’t call Eli for help. Instead, I ran to the top of Smoky Ridge Forest by myself. In my previous life, Eli had heard both Belle and me calling for help. Despite the pressure, he chose to save me first. Belle, devastated, refused all rescue attempts and perished in the fire. After that, Eli became incredibly attentive and caring. I thought I had finally earned his love. But shortly after giving birth, Eli wheeled Belle—seemingly disabled—into the hospital room and took our baby away. Leaning close to my ear, his voice laced with venom, he said: “Because of you, Belle almost died!” “If it weren’t for you, she wouldn’t be crippled or unable to have children!” “You’ll pay for what you’ve done. Belle and I will raise your child as our own.” In utter despair, I grabbed a paring knife and stabbed him in the chest. Then I took Belle down with me. Only in my final moments did I realize Belle had faked her death and her disability. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Belle started the fire. Content 0

“Savannah Nolan, you don’t actually think Eli loves you, do you?” “Eli and I have been together for years. Every time you struggled with morning sickness, he was with me.” “All those late-night work excuses? He was with me. The gifts he brought you? They were just my rejects.” Belle paraded her collection of photos—her “trophies”—like a proud peacock. Each one showed her in bed with Eli. But I didn’t have the energy to care about her so-called victories. Earlier, while driving up here, she’d been smoking. Her cigarette had ignited the dry brush in the forest, and the fire was spreading fast. I shoved Belle aside and sprinted toward the mountaintop, dialing the BlueSky Rescue Team. The voice on the other end was dismissive, his tone tinged with mockery. “Come on, Savannah, don’t play games with us. Is this some petty drama between you and Belle?” “This isn’t a joke! The forest is on fire! Send help!” “Save it. Public resources aren’t your playthings. If this is some stunt, it’s not funny.” Before I could say more, the line went dead. Belle was still oblivious to the spreading flames. She grabbed my arm, her nails digging into my skin. “What’s your problem? Everyone knows Eli and I are together. You just love playing the clown, don’t you?” “Let go!” It took all my strength to wrench free. When she finally turned and saw the fire racing toward us, her face twisted in fear. She shoved me to the ground and bolted toward the top of the ridge. But before either of us could reach safety, an explosion echoed behind us. Flames consumed everything, blocking our escape. Covering my nose and mouth with my sleeve, I could barely breathe. My lungs burned with every shallow gasp. Soon, chaotic voices rose from below—it was Eli and the BlueSky Rescue Team. “Eli…” Belle’s weak voice called out from ahead of me. Eli didn’t even glance my way. He ran straight to her. “Eli, your wife is still here!” one of the team members shouted. He hesitated for a moment but kept going. “Belle, don’t worry. I’m here now.” A sharp, aching pain spread through my chest. In my previous life, Eli had rescued me first. Belle had died in the fire. Afterward, he’d seemed like a changed man—attentive, affectionate, devoted. I thought I’d finally won his love. But every act of kindness was a blade, cutting me deeper when I wasn’t looking. When I gave birth, he brought Belle—faking disability—into my hospital room. He took our baby and left me suffocating on the shards of my broken heart. Now, as the smoke thickened around me, my vision blurred. “Belle, Belle! Are you okay? Stay with me!” Eli’s voice cracked, tinged with desperation. “Eli, what about your wife?!” One of the firefighters tried to give me an oxygen mask, but Eli pushed him away, insisting Belle needed it more. “She’s coughing her lungs out! Focus on the critical patients!” “But Savannah’s pregnant!” “So what? She’s been active throughout her pregnancy. She can walk on her own!” The disbelief in the air was palpable, but Eli’s authority silenced the dissent. Left alone in the smoke, my breaths grew shallow. My vision darkened. The last thing I saw before passing out was a firefighter rushing toward me, his face etched with determination. “Ma’am, can you hear me?!” “She’s inhaled too much smoke! And she’s pregnant—she’s unconscious!” Strong arms lifted me gently. “Stay with us, ma’am! We’ll get you out of here!” As the paramedics carried me to safety, I felt an unfamiliar sense of security—something Eli had never given me. Even as I faded in and out of consciousness, I could hear Eli soothing Belle with soft words. 0

When I woke up, I was lying in a hospital bed. The room was quiet except for the steady beeping of monitors. A nurse quickly fetched the doctor, who ran a series of tests. “You’re lucky we got to you in time. Smoke inhalation is serious. You’ll need time to recover, but…” The doctor hesitated. “The baby might not make it.” I already knew. I had made my decision. “Go ahead and do it,” I said, my voice trembling. The doctor paused. “We’ll need your family’s consent.” “He’s not here. He’s with his first love. When the fire started, my husband chose to save her.” A heavy silence filled the room, broken only by gasps of disbelief. “You mean the woman next door? The one who barely has a scratch but had half the staff catering to her?” “That’s your husband?” The murmurs of the medical staff carried a weight of judgment. “I thought they were a couple,” a young nurse whispered. The head nurse elbowed her, but the damage was done. I gave a bitter laugh. Everyone had seen it: the way Eli doted on Belle, leaving me to fend for myself. Pregnancy had been a lonely ordeal. Eli had blocked my number to avoid hearing my cries during bouts of morning sickness. Every checkup, I’d gone alone. And every time I begged him to accompany me, he made excuses. His colleagues adored Belle, letting her roam freely through BlueSky Rescue Team headquarters. Meanwhile, I was “the jealous wife,” a nuisance in their eyes. I’d lived through the misery of a widow-like marriage. And I was done. 0

Within days, I scheduled a medical termination. During that time, Eli never visited me once. Instead, he spent every moment by Belle’s side. The procedure went smoothly. I rested my hands on my now-flat stomach, quietly planning my next move. Outside my room, the commotion of voices broke the silence. A few nurses whispered urgently to each other. “Reporters! They’re here to interview the rescue hero!” The attending doctor rushed out to restore order, and for a while, things quieted down. But soon, a swarm of reporters burst into my hospital room, cameras and microphones thrust toward me. “Ms. Nolan, is it true you used your pregnancy to force our hero Eli Foster into marrying you?” “Rumor has it you intruded on Eli’s relationship with his first love, Isabelle Morgan. Care to comment?” The flashing lights overwhelmed me. I instinctively raised my arm to shield myself, but this only seemed to spur their relentless questions. The medical staff quickly intervened, ushering the reporters out, but I already knew who had orchestrated this. Belle wouldn’t stop until I was completely destroyed. The reporters had barely left when Eli stormed into my room. “Savannah, Belle’s been upset! Could you stop causing trouble for a couple of days?” I stared at him in disbelief. Anger boiled beneath my confusion. “You came to my room just to tell me that?” “Eli, if you’re losing your mind, take it elsewhere. I’m recovering.” “And don’t forget—I’m your wife. Belle is just a nameless mistress.” Outside the door, I heard the sound of a body hitting the floor. Belle, clearly eavesdropping, had stumbled and collapsed at the word “mistress.” Eli rushed out in a panic, gathering her into his arms. “I’m sorry, sister…” Belle murmured through her hands, tears running dramatically down her face. Yet, I caught the glint of triumph in her eyes. After placing her on a nearby chair, Eli stormed back in, his face livid. Without warning, he struck me across the face. The sting burned my cheek, but I remained calm. “I won’t let you speak about Belle that way! Apologize to her!” he roared. I smiled coldly. “Apologize? For what? Should I publish our marriage license online? Should I share footage from our home surveillance so the world can see what you and your little tramp have been doing?” “You wouldn’t dare.” His voice faltered, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. “I want a divorce, Eli.” He laughed as though I’d told a ridiculous joke. “A divorce? Savannah, is this some childish ploy to get attention?” Out in the hallway, Belle’s lips curled into a brief, victorious smile before she forced her expression back to one of pained innocence. But I saw it all. “I said, I want a divorce.” “Fine,” Eli sneered. “But don’t come crying back to me, begging for help after you realize what a mistake you’ve made.” “You won’t have to worry about that,” I said quietly. “The baby is already gone.” 0

Eli yanked back the covers, his gaze fixating on my flat stomach. For a moment, he seemed stunned, a flicker of hurt and disbelief in his eyes. What was he mourning? He’d never wanted this baby. But whatever sorrow he felt vanished as Belle, clutching his arm, began to sob softly. “It’s all my fault,” she whimpered. “If it weren’t for me, Savannah wouldn’t have had to go through this…” Eli stroked her hair, murmuring comfort. “You’re heartless, Savannah,” he spat. “Do you think this is just about the baby? You know why I saved Belle first. You know she’s…” “Depressed?” I interrupted sharply. “Eli, you’ve been using that same excuse since we started dating. Belle, you know better than anyone whether or not you actually have depression.” I let my words hang in the air before continuing. “You were right about one thing. If I hadn’t inhaled so much smoke, if I hadn’t been so physically compromised, I wouldn’t have chosen to terminate the pregnancy.” “This baby couldn’t have survived, regardless. But the ones who truly killed this child are you two.” Belle froze, her body trembling as she fainted on the spot. Eli panicked, calling for doctors and nurses. Even as they carried her out, he turned to me with a venomous glare. “Savannah, if anything happens to Belle, I’ll make sure you pay for it with your life.” He never considered the toll this had taken on me—or the child I’d just lost. All he saw was Belle’s pain. “Savannah, you’re not just heartless. You’re evil. You don’t deserve to be a mother!” “Did you even ask my permission to get rid of the baby?” “And now you’re making Belle faint with your cruel words? What is this? Some plan to attack her when she’s at her weakest?” “But let me tell you something. As long as I’m alive, I won’t let you harm Belle.” He delivered his ultimatum with cold finality. “Once you can walk again, we’re going straight to finalize the divorce.” “But before that, you’ll go online and admit everything: that you came between me and Belle, that you forced me into this marriage, and that you used this child to manipulate me.” “That way, Belle won’t carry any guilt when she finds out we’re divorced.” Even in divorce, he prioritized Belle’s feelings above all else.

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My wife has been in London for six months on a professional exchange program. Coincidentally, our wedding anniversary was coming up. Wanting to surprise her, I secretly booked a flight to London. Little did I know, she had her own “surprise” for me. She was pregnant. Her belly was visibly round, at least six months along. Under pressure, she revealed the truth: her first love, Bryce Adler, was in the late stages of cancer and wanted to leave behind an heir. Out of pity, she agreed to have his child. When I heard this, I was furious. Yet, she had the audacity to look me in the eye and say, “I just wanted to help him leave a legacy. Is that wrong?” I was trembling with rage. A woman like this wasn’t worth keeping. Content The day before our wedding anniversary, my wife, Naomi Blake, and I were texting. Me: “Honey, tomorrow is our fifth anniversary. We’ve celebrated the first four together, but this year you’re all the way across the ocean. I feel so lonely—I’m tempted to book a ticket and come see you right now.” Naomi: “Don’t. You’re so busy at work, and tickets are expensive. Just hang in there for six more months. I’ll be back before you know it.” Me: “Alright, if you say so.” What she didn’t know was that I’d already booked the ticket to London. I wanted to surprise her. The next morning, I boarded the plane. After six hours in the air, I arrived in London, clutching a bouquet of roses. Excited, I knocked on the door of her apartment. The door opened, and there she was. “Surprise!” I beamed. “Did I catch you off guard?” “E-Ethan?” she stammered, her face a mix of shock and unease. “That’s right—your loving husband traveled all this way to see you!” I said, moving in to embrace her. But something hard pressed against me. Looking down, I saw her belly. Round and unmistakably pregnant. At least six months along. My heart dropped. “Y-you’re pregnant?” I asked, my voice trembling in disbelief. “Come inside,” she said, pulling me in and shutting the door. “You must be exhausted. Sit down; I’ll get you some water.” “I don’t want water,” I snapped, throwing the roses onto the floor. “I want to know what the hell is going on.” “As you can see, I’m pregnant,” she said calmly. “You told me you were infertile! How is this even possible?” After our marriage, she had tearfully shown me a medical report claiming she couldn’t have children. I had held her and reassured her that kids didn’t matter to me—what mattered was that we had each other. I even suggested adoption. “I… I can actually have children,” she admitted, looking like a guilty child caught red-handed. “What about the report?!” “I faked it,” she confessed. It turned out she wasn’t infertile. She had fabricated the diagnosis to avoid having children, as she feared it would derail her career during its peak. “Then whose child is it?” I growled through gritted teeth. “Ethan, watch your words. This isn’t some bastard child.” “You want to act righteous after what you’ve done?!” I shot back, fury overtaking me. “Don’t be cruel,” she said, her eyes welling up with tears. “Tell me. Who’s the father?” I demanded. “It’s… Bryce Adler’s.” I froze. Bryce Adler—her first love. And a married man. “You rekindled your old flame?” “It’s not like that,” she said hastily. “He has late-stage cancer. He wanted a child to carry on his name. I pitied him and agreed, but it was artificial insemination. I swear I never betrayed you.” Her words shattered my world. “How could you do something so insane? You’re a married woman!” “His wife can’t have children,” she said softly. “So you decided to step in and play surrogate?!” “He begged me, Ethan. I couldn’t say no.” “You’re such a kind and thoughtful woman,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Why stop with Bryce? A few of my colleagues are infertile—maybe you can help them too.” “Ethan Whitaker, you’re disgusting.” “Not as disgusting as you are.” “I just wanted to help him leave a legacy. What’s so wrong about that?” she said, her voice defiant.

My blood boiled. She had volunteered for this program, claiming it would help her career, but now I saw it was all a cover to hide her pregnancy in another country. “A married woman having a child for another married man—you think that’s acceptable?!” I shouted. “Ethan, don’t be angry,” she said soothingly. “Once I have this baby, I promise we can have one of our own.” “Terminate the pregnancy now, or we’re done,” I said, my voice ice cold. “It’s six months along—I can’t. And besides, it’s a life. It’s my baby. How could you say something so cruel?” Tears streamed down her face as she glared at me. I noticed a used ashtray on the coffee table and men’s underwear drying on the balcony. My rage ignited anew. “Is Bryce living with you?” I snarled. Her face turned crimson, and she stammered, “No… He just visits occasionally. To… to check on the baby.” “So that’s why you didn’t want me to visit. You didn’t want me to catch you two in the act.” “Ethan, don’t twist things! Nothing happened between us,” she said, her face red with embarrassment. Just then, the door opened. “Naomi, I bought you a maternity nightgown and some nursing bras. Try them on and see if they fit,” Bryce said as he walked in. When he saw me, he froze. “Bryce, you need to leave,” Naomi said hastily. “Ethan and I need to talk.” “Why are you crying?” Bryce asked, moving to her side with concern. “I’m fine. Just go.” “Did he hurt you?” Bryce turned to me, his expression dark. “Ethan Whitaker, are you even a man? If you’ve got a problem, take it out on me.” “Gladly,” I said, swinging my fist at him. “Stop!” Naomi stepped between us, crying. “Ethan, how can you hit a cancer patient?” “Move, or I’ll hit you both,” I growled. “Ethan, you’re out of line! She’s pregnant!” Bryce shouted. “She seems more like your wife than mine,” I said bitterly. Naomi stretched her arms out to shield Bryce. “I won’t let you hurt him!” Enraged, I shoved her aside and kicked Bryce in the stomach. He doubled over in pain. “You… you hit me?” Bryce gasped, clutching his stomach. I didn’t stop. Naomi clung to me, begging, “Please, Ethan! Don’t do this. You’ll kill him!” “You don’t get to defend him!” I roared. “Then hit me instead!” she cried, collapsing to her knees. This woman—my wife—protecting another man. The humiliation was unbearable. Bryce coughed up blood, his voice trembling. “If something happens to my child, Ethan Whitaker, I’ll make you pay.” “Your child?” I spat, throwing another punch at his face. The chaos was interrupted by a knock at the door. “Security. Open up!” Naomi’s face drained of color.

Bryce Adler hurried to open the door. Two building security officers stood outside, flanked by a group of curious neighbors. It seemed the commotion had drawn attention, and someone had called security. “Officers, this man broke into my home and assaulted both me and my wife!” Bryce pointed at me, his tone accusatory. “You better clarify,” I growled. “Who’s wife are you talking about?” The neighbors behind the officers began speaking at once. “I’ve never seen that guy before. But Mr. Adler and Ms. Blake? They’re married—introduced themselves when they moved in,” said one male neighbor. “Yeah, they’re a couple. We even had dinner with them once,” chimed another. “Everyone on this floor knows Mr. Adler and Ms. Blake. This other guy looks like trouble—he’s probably some kind of criminal. Just look at Mr. Adler’s face—it’s all bruised. You should call the police!” Bryce smirked, a triumphant and mocking expression that made my blood boil. In a foreign land, I had no way of proving Naomi Blake was my wife. I turned to her, barely suppressing my rage. “Naomi, tell them yourself—who are you married to?” The neighbors turned their eyes to her. She flushed, hesitating for a moment before finally pointing at me. Relief washed over me. But then she opened her mouth. “I don’t know him,” Naomi said, pointing at Bryce instead. “He’s my husband.” My mind exploded. I stood there, dazed and disoriented, as the police arrived and took us all in for questioning. At the police station, Naomi finally told the truth: I was her husband. However, because Bryce held permanent residency in London, technically making him a partial citizen, and I had assaulted him, I was held responsible. Bryce smugly offered a deal: apologize, stop causing trouble, and let Naomi carry the baby to term, and he’d drop the charges. I refused and was thrown in jail. Three days later, I was released. Standing outside, I saw Naomi waiting for me. Her pregnant belly—a symbol of betrayal—stood out starkly against the winter coat she wore. She approached me, her tone a mix of smugness and disdain. “I begged Bryce to let you go. You see how generous he is? Not like you, always so petty.” “Oh, you’re right,” I replied coldly. “In this modern age, sharing a wife shouldn’t be a big deal, right?” “Do you have to be so sarcastic?” she snapped. She handed me the key to a hotel room. “Stay here and cool off. Call me when you’re ready to talk.” I laughed bitterly. How had this turned into my fault? Two days later, I called Naomi and suggested we meet to “discuss things.” She seemed relieved, thinking I had finally come around to her perspective. She eagerly set up a meeting at the Golden Banquet Hall in 7th Street. The next afternoon, I arrived at the restaurant. A waiter led me to a private dining room, where Naomi and Bryce were already seated. I took the seat across from them, placing my phone discreetly on the table. The table was already laden with dishes. “Ethan, I know I crossed a line, but you hit me, so we’re even. Let’s bury the hatchet. Here’s to a fresh start!” Bryce raised his glass in a toast. I took a small sip. His smirk faltered, but he didn’t press the issue. “Ethan, Bryce is being sincere. Why can’t you just finish the drink?” Naomi chided me. “Forget it, Naomi. Let’s get to the point,” Bryce interjected. “I’m dying, Ethan—stage IV cancer. I don’t have much time left, and I need an heir. It’s the most basic duty of a man. Please try to understand.” I raised an eyebrow. “You look pretty healthy for someone on death’s door.” “Looks can be deceiving. The tumors are eating me alive.” He pulled out a bank card and placed it in front of me. “Here’s $20,000. The password is Naomi’s birthday. Consider it compensation.” I let out a bitter laugh. “Why stop there? Add another zero, and Naomi’s all yours.” “Ethan, stop being so childish!” Naomi snapped. “Alright, alright. My bad,” I said with a smirk. “But let’s be real, $20,000 won’t even cover raising your kid.” “Don’t worry about that. Once the baby is born, I’ll take it to my mom in the countryside to raise,” Bryce said. “And your wife won’t find out?” I asked. “She hates the countryside and hasn’t visited my mom since we got married. She’ll never know.” Bryce sounded almost proud. “You’re hiding a child from your wife, and you feel no guilt?” He sighed dramatically. “What guilt? She can’t have kids—what kind of wife is that?” “And you found someone who could lay eggs for you. How convenient.” I emphasized the word “eggs,” my voice dripping with mockery. Naomi bristled. “Ethan, you’ve taken the money. Shouldn’t you be satisfied?” I chuckled. “Sure, let’s settle this. But this isn’t a three-person decision.” “What do you mean?” Bryce and Naomi asked in unison. At that moment, the door burst open.

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On Black Friday, while I was trying to score $1 flash deals on Amazon for contraceptives, Daniel Belmont was busy clearing Sabrina Keller’s cart. A brand-new triple-fold smartphone. A luxury face cream priced in the five figures. Sabrina gleefully posted on Instagram Stories: “Loving someone is like tending a garden. My boss says I’m worth it.” Suddenly, I realized how meaningless this relationship had become. I quietly deleted every item connected to him from my Amazon cart and booked myself a luxurious trip to New Zealand. …… Content Daniel Belmont’s executive assistant, Sabrina Keller, just posted another Instagram Story. This time, it featured multiple shots of him. His back, wearing an apron as he made ginger sugar tea. A grinning selfie of the two of them in the mirror. A close-up of him asleep on her lap, his profile softened by sleep. “Triple fold—it doesn’t matter how it folds, he’s still so handsome.” Scrolling up, I found her bragging about her emptied shopping cart. Dozens of items, totaling over $20,000. I glanced at my Amazon page. Twenty pounds of budget laundry detergent. Two massive packs of tissues. A new mop, broom, and toilet brush set. And, of course, the $1 contraceptives. All together, barely over a thousand bucks. Daniel had told me he had a dinner meeting that evening and wouldn’t come home because he didn’t want to disturb me if he came back drunk. Apparently, he was at Sabrina’s loft instead. My heart felt heavy as I called him. But the voice on the other end wasn’t his—it was Sabrina’s. “Hi, Claire. The boss is in the shower. If there’s anything you need, you can just tell me instead,” she chirped sweetly. The wave of hurt I’d been holding back vanished, replaced by disgust. Her ploy was crude and outdated, but it worked. I felt sick. “Sabrina, cut the act. You’re not in a position to represent my husband.” I hung up, deleted every single item in my cart, and headed to the kitchen. I had a pot of hangover soup simmering on the stove. Every time Daniel had a late night, I’d wait up to make sure he’d have something warm when he came home. This time, I poured the entire pot into a container and brought it next door to Martha Griffin, my neighbor. Afterward, I took the expensive ceramic pot I’d specially bought to make his soups—a $500 purchase I’d justified as “good for his stomach”—and smashed it in the garbage area downstairs. I’d spent years buying him expensive things, making sure he had the best of everything. Yet here I was, scavenging Black Friday deals, pinching pennies on essentials, all to keep our home running smoothly. For what? To play the role of the perfect, frugal, self-sacrificing housewife? Not anymore. I grabbed Daniel’s card and went on a spree: seasonal designer handbags, couture dresses, and, after some thought, a luxury trip to New Zealand. All together, less than $10,000. I stared at the total in a daze. I’d spent years putting his needs above mine, always finding ways to save—even though he was the CEO of Belmont Enterprises. And now, all the money I’d saved went to tending his “flower garden.” I was supposed to be his partner. But I wasn’t as bright or lively as his executive assistant. Suddenly, it all felt meaningless. That was when Daniel finally called. The moment I answered, he started yelling, his voice sharp with anger. I could even hear Sabrina softly crying in the background. “Claire Hudson, what gives you the right to humiliate my people?” So, Sabrina was “his person” now, was she? “All you do is ask for money and stir up drama. What else are you even good for?” “She’s so much younger than you—a kid, really. How can you treat her like that? Have some decency!” “I—” He didn’t give me a chance to speak. “Do you even know your place anymore? You’re in your thirties—stop acting like some jealous teenage girl.” His words hit me like blows, one after another, leaving me breathless. “Why don’t you take a good look at yourself in the mirror? Stop meddling in my business. I don’t have time for your petty tantrums.” And with that, he hung up. Not long after, Sabrina sent me a private message. “Claire, you’re older and more experienced. Can you tell me if this is bad for me?” Attached was a photo of an emergency contraceptive. “I want to take it, but the boss said no. He’s worried it’ll hurt me. He cares so much.”

I didn’t respond. Instead, I began packing for New Zealand. Maybe the time away would help me clear my head and figure out what I wanted. But life rarely goes as planned. Scott Emerson, the guide coordinating my trip, called to let me know that the weather in New Zealand would be stormy for the next week, and we’d have to delay the trip. Disappointed, I set my packed suitcase aside. Two days later, Daniel finally came home. We hadn’t spoken since the argument. He’d become so distant over time. He always claimed to be “busy with work.” Our communication had dwindled to almost nothing. If I didn’t message him first, he wouldn’t reach out at all. At home, his phone notifications never stopped, and his eyes were always glued to the screen. When he walked through the door, I jumped. I’d almost convinced myself he’d stayed with Sabrina. Daniel glanced at me on the couch, then at the dusty floor, his brow furrowing. “Claire, the floor’s dirty.” I knew. When I didn’t respond, his frown deepened. He set a mango-flavored ice cream cake in front of me and softened his tone. “Still mad? Fine, I was harsh, but you’re being petty—” He cut himself off abruptly. “Forget it. Just try the cake, okay?” I pushed it away. His expression darkened, but before he could say anything, I said, “I’m on my period. Can’t eat cold stuff.” Only then did he notice the heating pad in my lap and my pale face. Finally, he relented and called a cleaning service. He sent me to rest in the bedroom and even brought me ginger sugar tea. My cramps were unbearable, and I drifted off into a restless sleep. In my dreams, old memories resurfaced. Daniel used to say he loved coming home to see me bustling around the house. It made him feel grounded. Like we were building a real home. So, I’d fired the cleaning lady and taken on everything myself. He used to remember my cycle. Before I even noticed, he’d clear out the freezer and stock up on chamomile tea. Now, the tea was at Sabrina’s. And his first thought coming home was to criticize the floor. I woke up still unsettled. The heating pad was gone. From the muffled voices outside, I realized I wasn’t alone in the house. Throwing on a blanket, I stepped out—and there she was. Sabrina, sitting on the couch, wearing Daniel’s shirt, her legs tucked under her. She was sitting on my favorite stuffed animal. “Stop playing dumb. No sneaking ice cream behind my back,” Daniel scolded playfully, handing her my heating pad. “Just one bite? Please?” she pouted. Daniel chuckled indulgently and offered her his half-eaten popsicle. She leaned in and bit into it, her lips brushing where his had been. Noticing me, Sabrina’s face lit up in a bright, saccharine smile, ice cream smudging her lips. “Claire! You’re up! Have you eaten? Want some water?” If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was the lady of the house. Daniel quickly withdrew the popsicle, looking sheepish. “Sabrina’s place had a power outage, so she’s staying here. Don’t overthink it.” “Of course. Safety first.” My calm seemed to relax him. I poured myself a glass of water and returned to the bedroom. Daniel’s focus was entirely on Sabrina. He didn’t even notice that the tea in the kettle was cold. I’d told him earlier—I couldn’t drink cold things. But, of course, he’d forgotten.

I buried myself under the covers and opened my phone. Over the years, I hadn’t been idle. I’d written several novels and saved up quite a bit of money. One of my books had even been considered for adaptation, but the producers insisted I join the production team, so I declined. Back then, I had to stay home to take care of Daniel Belmont. But now, it was time to plan for myself. Maybe it was time to end this marriage. If Sabrina Keller wanted my leftovers, she could have them. I messaged Linda Mitchell, the producer, and she was thrilled. We scheduled a meeting to discuss details. My mood lifted. Ignoring the laughter outside my bedroom, I locked the door and went back to sleep. I slept peacefully for the first time in ages. The next morning, I woke up early. My cramps had eased, and for once, I felt like treating myself. I decided to go out shopping for new clothes. After all, I still had a trip to New Zealand to look forward to once the flights resumed. Around midday, I sat on a bench at Westfield Grand Mall, resting from the day’s shopping. Then, out of nowhere, I spotted Sabrina. She was practically skipping into a luxury store, clinging to Daniel’s arm. She was glowing with excitement, admiring the displays, while Daniel followed, smiling indulgently. He called over a sales associate and requested a few handbags. Sabrina tried each one, striking little poses in front of the mirror, her sweet laughter filling the store. At one point, she said something that made Daniel playfully tap her on the forehead. From where I sat, Sabrina reminded me of myself. The carefree, blissful me from when Daniel and I first got together. That forehead tap—it was a gesture Daniel used to love doing to me. I felt a wave of revulsion. Had he found someone who looked like me just to relive our past? I called Daniel. Across the walkway, I could see him clearly. His expression didn’t change as he answered and calmly claimed he was “in a meeting at the office.” “Daniel, why don’t you turn around?” In the next second, our eyes locked. His face cracked, just slightly. I stood and strode into the store, yanking the handbag from Sabrina’s hands. She flinched, retreating behind Daniel and tugging at his jacket nervously. “Daniel, you promised me this bag when it first launched. So why is it in her hands now?” Daniel stepped forward, shielding Sabrina. “Claire, don’t cause a scene here. Sabrina’s new to the workforce—she needs a few things to make an impression.” This bag was a rare find. Westfield Grand Mall only had one in stock. I refused to let go. “But you promised it to me.” “Do you really have to make such a fuss over something so trivial?” Sabrina was already in tears, her sobs echoing softly through the store. Daniel suddenly exploded, snatching the bag from my hands. He grabbed a nearby letter opener and slashed the leather to shreds in a matter of seconds. The force of his movements threw me off balance, and I slammed my lower back into the corner of a table. “I’m buying this bag,” he snapped at the associate. “Please have it destroyed and disposed of. And while you’re at it, send every new-season bag and a selection of classics to this address.” He rattled off Sabrina’s address before turning to wipe her tears with his fingers, his voice tender. “Don’t worry. As long as I’m here, no one will bully you.” I clutched my throbbing back, unable to stand upright. “Claire Hudson, you’re a housewife. What do you even need a handbag for? I’d rather destroy it than let you have it. What can you possibly do about it? You’ve become absolutely unbearable.” And just like that, the fragile thread holding my composure snapped.

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Grace Lockwood was dying. Her one wish was for her only daughter, Sophia Lockwood, to have a child to call her own. To ease her foster mother’s worries, Jason Danish agreed to her request. He started staying out all night, pressuring me to divorce him. After several heated arguments, I summoned the long-dormant Zenith Interface, “I want to leave this world.” To spare me from pain in my final moments, the system extracted my core emotions. I stopped fighting or arguing, which seemed to please Jason. He eagerly married his foster sister, Sophia. Gradually, Jason began to notice my growing indifference. I even prepared baby clothes for the child Sophia was expecting. It was then that he finally panicked. …… Content Jason Danish and I had another fight. It was the third time, always about his foster sister, Sophia Lockwood. I grabbed his arm, refusing to let him leave. Jason flung me off with irritation. Unsteady on my feet, I caught the edge of the table to keep from falling. His face darkened, brimming with impatience. “Chloe Hartwell, I’ve told you this a hundred times: it’s just for a child. A year from now, I’ll divorce her and remarry you. Why can’t you just be reasonable? Why pick a fight now?” I stared into his eyes, my chest heaving. “She wants a child, but why does it have to be you? She knows you’re married. She’s destroying our family.” “Chloe Hartwell!” Jason’s voice was low, carrying a storm of fury. “Grace raised me. Without her, I wouldn’t even be alive. What family do I have without her?” “Tomorrow at the County Clerk’s Office, I’ll be waiting.” With that, he slammed the door, leaving the apartment complex. At the curb, a petite figure emerged from a Bentley and ran toward him, throwing herself into his arms. I clutched my chest, a bitter ache swelling inside. Seven years together, and this was how it all ended. I summoned the Zenith Interface. “System, I want to go home.” Three years ago, I successfully won over Jason Danish. I should have left then. But Jason had said to me, “Chloe, I finally have a home.” I had teased, “You could’ve just bought a house. Isn’t that the same thing?” Jason frowned, shaking his head solemnly. “It’s not about having a house—it’s about having you. You’re my home.” “Chloe, you are my home.” In that moment, I felt like I was walking on air, floating among the clouds. Because of those words, I stayed. After all, I was an orphan. Where I lived didn’t really matter. But only three years later, Jason dealt me a fatal blow. When Grace was diagnosed with late-stage cancer, she clung to Jason’s hand, pleading with him to take care of Sophia. Tears streamed down her face as she expressed her fears that Sophia, alone in the world, would be vulnerable. “If only Sophia could have a child,” she said. “But she refuses to marry. I know—it’s because she’s waiting for you, Jason. I don’t care about dying, but I can’t rest easy leaving Sophia alone.” To ease her mind, Jason promised to marry Sophia and give her a child. I was there in the hospital room when he made that promise, every word chilling me to the core. When we got home, Jason told me he wanted a divorce so he could marry Sophia. I refused, and we argued. He ended it by slamming the door on me. The Zenith Interface hesitated before speaking. “Host, for the first three months of separation, your emotions will be removed. You’ll become an empty shell. Leaving then will spare you much of the pain.” I agreed. I would do anything to get far away from Jason Danish.

The next day, I didn’t make it to the County Clerk’s Office. It was pouring rain, and I hated going out in storms. Jason called, his tone sharp with frustration. “Chloe Hartwell, the wedding is next week. Can you stop causing trouble?” Rain pounded against the windows, and thunder rumbled in the distance. I clutched the edge of the blanket. “Can’t we do it tomorrow? The forecast says it’ll be sunny.” Jason’s breathing grew heavier, tinged with exasperation. “Tomorrow, I’m helping Sophia try on wedding dresses.” “What about the day after?” “Chloe Hartwell!” When Jason got angry, his voice grew low and weighty. I didn’t need to see him to know his face was stormy, his brow furrowed, convinced I was playing games. I sighed. “Fine. Wait for me.” I hated rainstorms—feared them, even. In my original world, I’d been in a car accident during a storm. That’s how I ended up in a coma and became part of this world through the system. I hailed a cab, but by the time I folded my umbrella, the rain had drenched half my hair. I frowned, irritated. I hated rainy days. Outside the fogged windows, the streets were nearly empty. My phone rang incessantly. All calls were from Jason. I tugged at the corners of my mouth in a bitter smile. He was so impatient he couldn’t wait even a minute. Oddly, I felt nothing. It seemed the separation program was already taking effect. The cab skidded at a corner, the tires screeching against the wet pavement. I was thrown forward, my forehead smacking against the seat in front of me. Jason was still blowing up my phone, but unfortunately for him, I’d been in a car accident. I grabbed my umbrella and prepared to walk to the County Clerk’s Office. The driver grabbed my arm. “Where are you going? The ambulance is on its way.” “Let me go. I’ve got urgent business.” “What’s so urgent? Reincarnation?” “I’m getting a divorce.” The driver froze for a second, then tightened his grip. Maybe he mistook the rain on my face for tears. He gave me a look—equal parts pity and sadness. “Urgent or not, you still need to get checked out first.” I supposed he was right. I was taken to Lakewood Medical Center. After a battery of tests, the County Clerk’s Office had long since closed. Jason stormed into my hospital room, his initial alarm fading into a cold mask as he saw I was unharmed. “A car accident? Chloe Hartwell, you couldn’t have come up with a better excuse? Where are you hurt?” I spread my hands. “Nowhere.” Jason flipped through my test results, his face growing darker by the second. The paper crinkled in his hands. He laughed bitterly. “Chloe Hartwell, are you determined to make my mother die with regrets?” “I told you—I’ll divorce Sophia once she has the child. Can’t you think about me? Do you know how worried I was coming here? And you? You’re fine with lying to me.” Once, I might have been hurt by this, furious even. Why should I understand him when he was ready to tear our family apart for Sophia? Who understood me? But now, I was calm. I didn’t even have the energy to argue. “Jason Danish, I wasn’t lying. I really was in an accident. The driver’s still here in the hospital if you don’t believe me. I just got lucky.” Jason didn’t believe me, but before he could vent further, Sophia called. His stern expression softened. His voice became gentle. He didn’t even bother stepping away. Her playful, sweet tone carried clearly over the line. We weren’t divorced yet, and Sophia was already calling him “hubby.” And Jason? He didn’t correct her. After hanging up, he sighed and turned to me. “Chloe, I’ll pick you up tomorrow. Don’t fight me this time. You know Grace doesn’t have much time left.” Grace’s dying wish was to see Jason and Sophia married. Jason busied himself making it happen. I nodded. “Okay.” “Don’t fight me, Chloe…” “What did you say?” Jason froze, startled. I repeated myself. “I said, okay. Tomorrow, divorce.”

In the past, I wouldn’t have agreed so easily. Not scolding him first would’ve been a miracle. But now, it took no effort at all to say, “Fine.” Jason Danish’s furrowed brow relaxed, and he exhaled in relief. “Then, tomorrow.” Sophia Lockwood was waiting for him to have dinner. He had no time to waste on me. Jason left the hospital quickly, guilt written all over him. After he left, the doctor told me I could be discharged. I went home and cooked myself a bowl of noodles. They were tasteless. I added more salt, but the flavor didn’t change. It seemed my sense of taste was already fading, much faster than I’d expected. I finished the meal mechanically, then methodically cleaned up and washed the dishes. Finally, I lay on the cold, empty bed. I ran my hand over the other side—it was ice cold. Ever since Jason decided to marry Sophia, he’d moved out. The empty house was mine alone. If I left, no one would live here anymore. The next morning, I was woken by the ringing of my phone. Jason’s cold voice came through. “I’m downstairs. Get ready and come down.” I froze for a second. “Okay.” When I opened the car door to the passenger seat, I realized Sophia was there too. Her hair was in soft curls, her makeup impeccable. She smiled at me, almost playfully. “Sorry, Chloe, I didn’t feel like getting out of the car. Do you mind sitting in the back?” I nodded. “Sure.” I climbed into the backseat, staring out the window with a blank expression. In the rearview mirror, Jason’s gaze flitted toward me now and then. He cleared his throat. “Uh, Sophia wants to invite you to be her bridesmaid.” I looked at him, puzzled. Jason coughed again. “If you don’t want to, it’s fine. The wedding’s just a formality. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.” “I’ll go.” Jason’s expression shifted to one of surprise. “Did you hear me? I said bridesmaid.” “I heard you. I’m not deaf,” I replied. Jason’s face darkened, and he snapped, “Fine. When Sophia picks her dress later, you can pick your bridesmaid dress.” When the seal stamped down on the divorce papers, it marked the end of my three-year marriage to Jason Danish. Jason grabbed his copy of the decree and stuffed it into his pocket without so much as glancing at it. I, on the other hand, took my time, carefully examining every word. The documents were just different pieces of paper, but they ruled most of our lives. I hadn’t finished reading when a large hand snatched the paper from me. Jason’s tone was annoyed. “What’s so interesting about it? It’s not like we’re really divorced.” The stamp begged to differ. Whatever. If that’s how he wanted to see it, so be it. Sophia’s wedding dress was stunning, adorned with diamonds that sparkled in the sunlight. When Jason and I got married, he was fresh out of college and broke. Our wedding had been minimalist, to say the least. He had promised me back then, “When I have money, I’ll throw you an even grander wedding, and you’ll wear the most beautiful dress.” Three years later, he had money, but those promises were long forgotten. I looked at the diamond ring on my finger, then noticed Jason’s hand was bare, leaving only a faint white mark where his ring had been. Calmly, I slipped my ring off and placed it on the counter. Following the store clerk, I began picking out bridesmaid dresses. Each one was prettier than the last. Sophia appeared behind me suddenly. “Chloe, I think this one suits you,” she said, holding up a long-sleeved, nude-toned dress with tulle. It was hideous and outdated. I replied evenly, “Then you wear it.” Sophia bit her lip, feigning hurt. “Chloe, this is a bridesmaid dress. I’m the bride.” I instinctively furrowed my brow. She was on the verge of tears again. Jason tossed the dress to me and wrapped an arm around Sophia, comforting her softly before turning to scold me. “Sophia is the bride. How could you suggest she wear a bridesmaid dress?” “Chloe Hartwell, if you don’t want to be her bridesmaid, just say so. Don’t act all pitiful.” What? I wasn’t doing anything. Jason handed the dress to the clerk. “This one. Wrap it up.” Fine. An ugly dress it was. On the wedding day, balloons surrounded the lawn at Green Ridge Estate, and the area was decorated with countless framed photos of Jason and Sophia. The guests all looked on enviously. Dressed in the hideous bridesmaid dress, I held the rings, waiting for my cue. Finally, it was time for the ring exchange. Step by step, I approached the bride and groom. When I handed Jason the ring, he looked at me, his eyes holding an unreadable emotion. He murmured softly, “Chloe, it’s just an act.” I nodded to show I understood. The emotion in his eyes faded, replaced by a smile as he slid the ring onto Sophia’s finger. Applause erupted, and the officiant announced, “You may kiss the bride!” I stood quietly to the side, waiting for them to kiss so I could finally take off my heels. The ill-fitting shoes had been digging into my feet all day. I lifted one foot to relieve the pain. When I glanced up, Jason’s eyes were locked on mine. He still hadn’t kissed Sophia. Sophia urged him quietly, her voice impatient. The guests stared expectantly. But he didn’t move. His lips quivered. “Chloe, I…”

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I was a scholarship student, while my roommate was a wealthy heiress. As soon as we started college, she insisted on being friends with me. She took me out to fancy restaurants and parties, and even introduced me to her childhood friend, William Carter. But when William and I actually got together, the heiress wasn’t happy anymore. She deliberately spilled my ramen noodles, claiming she burned herself and demanded I pay for it. After I gave her all my money, she spread rumors that I had sticky fingers and stole her Louis Vuitton wallet. The school disciplined me, my classmates avoided me, and even William wanted to break up with me. He said I was just an ugly duckling who had a taste of the good life and delusionally thought I could become a swan. I couldn’t defend myself, was ostracized and cyberbullied until I dropped out. In my mental breakdown, I fell into a river and drowned. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment she introduced me to William Carter. “William, this is Wren, my best friend at college. Isn’t she pretty?” Jessica’s teasing voice and the deafening music around us brought me back to reality. This was when I first met William Carter. He didn’t think much of me then, and it was the same now. He didn’t even glance at me, just kept drinking his whiskey. Jessica had one arm around my shoulders, grinning as she asked, “Wren, what do you think of our William?” “William’s family is in real estate. They’re the richest in the city.” I lowered my head and smiled shyly, pretending to be embarrassed. “He seems nice. I need to use the restroom real quick.” Jessica clearly liked William, yet she kept trying to push him towards me. William was a jerk too, getting together with me even though he didn’t like me. I was just a pawn in their little game. I raised my head from the cold water, taking off my thick black-framed glasses. This time, I refuse to be their plaything. Who says an ugly duckling can’t become a swan? I left without saying goodbye, and sure enough, I ran into William at the entrance. He was sitting alone on a hidden bench near the door, head down as if looking at something. In my previous life, I learned a lot about his past from Jessica. Today was his birthday, but also the anniversary of his mother’s death. In my past life, everyone urged me to toast William, but he mocked me for not knowing the difference between brandy and whiskey, then left me standing there. I kept my head down and took out a box of strawberry milk from my bag. It was supposed to be my breakfast, but now it would have to serve as a prop. “Here, drinking alcohol all night isn’t good for your stomach.” William gave me a cold look. “I don’t need your pity.” I didn’t get angry, I just set it down and said, “If you hurt your stomach, your mom would be sad.” With that, I turned and left, ignoring the curious gaze behind me. Rich kids like him and Jessica would never take someone like me seriously. But this time, I’m not just going to make him take me seriously, I’m going to make him and Jessica turn against each other. When Jessica came back, she complained about me leaving without a word. I sweet-talked her as usual, fawning over her. If she skipped class, I’d mark her present. If she was too lazy to get food, I’d bring it to her. If she thought the dorm washing machines were dirty, I’d hand-wash her clothes one by one. The other roommates called me a bootlicker behind my back, saying no matter how much I sucked up, she’d never give me a penny. I pretended not to hear, playing the role of Jessica’s little follower. Every day, besides doing chores for her, I had to listen to her bragging. She’d say the cafeteria food was barely fit for pigs, and that her dad should just open a food processing plant right here on campus. Sometimes William would come visit her, bringing flowers, gifts, food, and all sorts of little trinkets – there’d even be something for me. I’d suck up to him too, bringing him food when I brought Jessica’s.

Jessica boasted proudly, “William’s great, isn’t he? So many girls like him. Do you like him?” I quickly shook my head, saying shyly, “How could I be worthy of him? I think William only has eyes for you.” I’d hit Jessica’s sweet spot, and she smiled with satisfaction. Jessica knew William liked her, but she didn’t want to be tied down so quickly. Soon after, at the college sports day, she was supposed to be a flag bearer, but accidentally tripped on her dress and sprained her ankle. An athlete from the sports team carried her to the infirmary. That day, William would end up confessing to me out of jealousy. But on the day of the sports meet, I managed to sprain my ankle first. Fighting through the pain, I limped over to bring Jessica her makeup bag. Jessica showed no concern for me at all, instead complaining that I was late. “You’re so slow just bringing something over. If your foot hurts, just deal with it. What if you made us late for the parade?” I lowered my head and apologized, acting like a total pushover. It was that muscular athlete again: “Hey, are you okay? Let me take you to the infirmary.” I blushed and waved my hands, saying it wasn’t necessary, but nearly fell over. He still picked me up bridal style, insisting on taking me. Suddenly, a cold gaze fell on us. I looked up to see William. Jessica called out excitedly, “William, don’t I look pretty today?” But William didn’t answer, he just looked at me. “Get down, I’ll take you.” Jessica’s face immediately fell. “William, I’m supposed to be in the parade soon. What are you doing?” I quickly tried to smooth things over. “You don’t need to take me, this guy can do it. Don’t mess up Jessica’s plans.” At the infirmary, the nurse said the injury was a bit serious and told me to avoid walking for a while. I thanked the athlete, and learned his name was Rowan. Rowan was about to leave, but turned back at the door. “Um, can I get your number? In case you need help with anything later.” I looked at his red-tipped ears, not quite understanding. Not long after I arrived at the infirmary, news came that Jessica had fallen. William personally brought her over. She was wearing a long tulle dress, like a princess, with William as her handsome knight. Rowan came back with an ice pack, looking confused when he saw the two of them. Jessica was screaming in pain, and the nurse said she needed to ice it first. She rudely pointed at Rowan, telling him to give her the ice pack. I meekly said as usual, “Give it to Jessica first, I can get another one later.” Rowan looked annoyed, but still gave it to her. “Then I’ll take you back to the dorm first, and I’ll buy you one later.” “Wren, can’t you do anything yourself? Do you need others to run around for you?” William’s face was cold, his words unkind. But he actually took the ice pack and personally put it on my swollen ankle. Jessica stared in disbelief: “William! I haven’t even used it yet! How could you give it to her?” William ignored her, instead looking up at me: “Wren, don’t you like me? Let’s be together.” I used surprise to cover the coldness in my eyes. William wouldn’t fall for me so easily. He was mostly trying to make Jessica jealous. I didn’t agree right away, stammering nervously: “I- I never said I liked you.” I fled back to the dorm, where Jessica’s attitude towards me did a complete 180. She spoke with biting sarcasm: “Well, well, I didn’t know you actually hooked up with William. You’ve really got skills, getting together with him. I guess you’ve made it big now.” I kept my head down, saying it wasn’t true. But Jessica escalated: “Stop pretending! You must like William, right? I’ve seen plenty of girls like you.” “Always trying to climb the social ladder, not knowing your place. Even if William likes you, his family would never approve!” This was far from enough. What I wanted was much more than just his affection.

William actually started pursuing me in earnest. He’d pick me up for class in the morning, eat lunch with me, and invite me for walks in the evening. Because of my injured foot, I stopped running errands for Jessica. No one in the dorm talked to either of us, so she simply moved out to live off-campus. Gradually, in others’ eyes, it seemed I had truly fallen for William. I’d blush when I saw him, give him little handmade gifts, and even share food from my part-time job with him. I’d send him good morning and goodnight messages, share my daily life with him, whether he replied or not. I got rid of my clunky glasses, grew out my hair, and while my clothes were still simple, I could pass for a pretty girl when I looked in the mirror. Slowly, I could feel William’s gaze on me changing. He’d deliberately get close to make me blush, kiss me under an umbrella on rainy days. We seemed like a real couple. Until the day Jessica got drunk and burst into the dorm, knocking over the ramen I was eating. I dodged quickly, but she burned her own wrist. Even though she immediately shook it off, it left a red mark. She glared at me through gritted teeth: “Wren Fisher, I treated you like a friend, but you seduced William. Aren’t you ashamed?” I kept up my innocent act: “What do you mean seduced? Were you two together before?” Jessica suddenly went quiet, then pointed at me threateningly: “Just you wait. You really think William would fall for you? He’s just playing with you.” I was just playing with him too, and I’d already gotten what I wanted. Breaking up wasn’t a big deal. Sure enough, William came to lecture me for her sake. Just like in my past life, he dragged me into a private room, filled with his rich friends. William told me to apologize: “Be sensible. Jessica’s never been hurt before, and she got burned because of you.” Jessica smugly folded her arms and snorted: “Have her apologize? I wouldn’t dare. She’s William Carter’s girlfriend after all.” William looked a bit exasperated, teasing her: “You’re still jealous about that? Weren’t you the one who introduced her to me?” Jessica pointed at a row of liquor bottles: “Fine, if you sincerely want to apologize, drink all of these and I’ll forgive you.” William didn’t object, personally handing me a glass. “A whole row is too much. Just one glass.” I took the glass, but with a flick of my wrist, poured the liquid on the floor. “I won’t drink a single drop.” In my past life, no matter how I tried to explain, all I got was mockery. They didn’t care about the truth, they just wanted to laugh at me. I was the ugly duckling, the loser, someone not in their social class. I was forced to drink a whole row of shots, ending up vomiting on the spot. Jessica covered her nose, while William disgustedly had someone throw me out. This time, after pouring out the drink, I threw the glass on the table. With a loud clatter, I only explained once: “You got burned because you deliberately spilled my ramen. You deserved it.” Jessica jumped up furiously, pointing and screaming: “How dare you say I deserved it! Weren’t you always so timid? Finally showing your true colors, huh? I knew you were a green tea bitch all along!” “I’m telling you, if you don’t drink this whole row of shots and apologize today, I’ll have you kicked out of school tomorrow!” William frowned, looking at me disapprovingly. “Wren, did you forget what I said? It’s just an apology, why make it so difficult?” I gave a slightly mocking smile: “I did nothing wrong, so I won’t apologize.” William didn’t expect me to be so stubborn today. He grabbed my wrist, staring at me. “What if I insist you apologize to her?” I gritted my teeth and shook off his hand: “Then let’s break up.”

William’s face immediately darkened. Jessica quickly said: “Wren Fisher, you really think you’re that pretty? William was just playing with you. If anyone’s dumping anyone, it’s him dumping you!” But William stepped towards me menacingly: “You want to break up with me? You don’t have that right.” “Whether I have the right or not isn’t for you to decide.” I turned to leave without a backward glance. The people in the room tried to lighten the mood: “Come on, she’s just a country bumpkin. It was just a fling, William, don’t take it to heart.” “She’s just got an attitude. Don’t worry, in three days tops, she’ll come crawling back to you.” Jessica’s mood improved quite a bit. She offered William a drink. “You’re not really angry, are you? Wren Fisher just doesn’t know her place.” But William smashed the glass, the loud noise instantly silencing the room. After a moment, he spoke slowly: “It’s fine. Keep drinking.” But that night, he checked his phone many times, never receiving my usual goodnight message. Jessica wasn’t just talking. She really intended to get me expelled. The inevitable finally came. I took a day off, hiding behind the bed curtain, watching Jessica who should have been in class sneaking into the dorm. She was holding a brand new Louis Vuitton wallet. I quickly took out my phone, recording a video of her putting the wallet in my locker. At noon, Jessica cornered me in the classroom with a group of people. She stared at me confidently, asking: “Wren Fisher, my wallet’s gone missing. You’re always closest to me, did you take it?” The classroom was packed, even the doorway was crowded with people. I calmly explained: “Do you have any proof?” Jessica sneered: “Proof? Of course I do. Your family’s the poorest, of course you couldn’t resist when you saw something nice.” “If you’d asked nicely I would have given it to you. But you had to steal. If that’s not having sticky fingers, what is it?” People around us whispered, many students taking out their phones to record. Theft was a scandal anywhere, especially in college! “Fine, it’s just a wallet. I’ll pay you for it.” William’s voice came from outside, the crowd parting to let him through. He seemed to be coming to my defense. But I hadn’t done anything wrong, why should I be falsely accused? I insisted: “Jessica, do you have any proof?” William frowned at me: “Wren, don’t make a big deal out of this. I can’t help you if you do.” Jessica exploded: “William Carter, are you really going to take her side? What’s so great about this poor scholarship student that you like? Without me, she’d never even have met you in this lifetime!” He wasn’t really on my side. He clearly didn’t believe me either, just wanted to save face by stepping in. But Jessica recklessly pressed on: “I’ll tell you what, I’ve already found the wallet in her locker.” Her friends also testified: “We really saw the wallet in her locker with our own eyes.” “Wren Fisher, what else do you have to say for yourself!” “Someone with sticky fingers like you doesn’t deserve to be at our school! You should be expelled!” The accusatory gazes around me felt like nails being driven in. Jessica walked up to me haughtily, whispering: “You’re not worthy of competing with me!” But I just smiled, directly connecting my phone to the classroom’s big screen. “Then let everyone see how the wallet ended up in my locker.”

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My father forced me to marry a disabled billionaire to spare his little princess from an unwanted marriage. I agreed immediately. Not long after, my stepsister changed her mind. She pointed at me and said, “Dad, I want my brother-in-law. Make her get lost!” Pfft. My husband laughed. I heard that night, their whole family packed up and fled in a hurry. My stepsister was crying her eyes out, refusing to marry Hugo Edwards. My dad, feeling sorry for this stepdaughter who shared no blood relation with him, immediately declared that he would never let her suffer. “Nancy, you’ll marry him instead of your sister.” He said this as casually as if he were commenting on the nice weather. Without a second thought, I replied, “Sure.” My stepsister immediately stopped crying. Even my stepmother looked at me in shock. Her shrewd eyes darted around, probably trying to guess if I had some hidden agenda. Indeed, I did have other plans. Natalie despised Hugo Edwards for being disabled. I didn’t. Because what I valued was his family background. Our Collins family was considered prestigious in Sea City. Well, to be precise, the Collins family basked in the glory of my maternal grandparents’ family. My mother’s family, the Shen family, had made their fortune during the Qing Dynasty. A century-old enterprise with vast wealth. Unfortunately, my mom was blind in love and chose my dad, a man who climbed the social ladder through marriage. No matter how much my maternal grandparents tried to stop them, they couldn’t sever their bond. Later, my mom gave birth to me and brought my dad back to her family, hanging her head in shame. My grandmother took pity on him and used her personal savings to support my dad in starting his business. He leveraged my maternal grandfather’s reputation and connections to make a considerable fortune. As his business grew, my mom saw less and less of him. Later, when my maternal grandparents passed away, my mom inherited their family fortune. That’s when my dad came back, sweet-talking his way into getting all the money from my mom. He transformed himself into Sea City’s top tycoon and wanted to divorce my mom. My mom couldn’t take it and jumped from a building, ending her life. I was ten years old that year. Before the seventh day of mourning for my mom had passed, my dad brought my stepmother and stepsister home. He claimed it was to take care of me, but in reality, the two of them were having an affair. They turned a blind eye when Natalie tried to steal my things. If I hadn’t been so young, I would have slapped him hard for my mom, even that wouldn’t have been enough to vent my anger! Heaven has eyes. Ever since my dad married this woman, his business took a nosedive. Just recently, he was on the brink of declaring bankruptcy. And now, out of nowhere, he dug up some old marriage agreement between the Shen family and the Edwards family. He wanted his stepdaughter to marry into wealth, but she refused. The atmosphere was tense. After a long while, my stepmother finally spoke: “Nancy, are you… serious?” “Of course. I can also choose not to marry. Why don’t we let Natalie marry him instead!” Natalie immediately grabbed my dad’s arm, crying like a fountain. “Daddy, I don’t want to marry Hugo Edwards!”

On our wedding night, as Hugo sat on the bed, I gently asked, “Do you need help getting up?” The soft orange light cast on his chiseled face made him look exceptionally handsome and refined. He glanced at me and said in a deep voice, “No need to trouble yourself.” With that, he easily stood up and strode towards the bathroom with his long legs. What? Wasn’t he supposed to be lame? I curiously peeked around the doorframe into the bathroom. The man was about to take off his shirt. Probably sensing my burning gaze, he spoke without turning around. “Seen enough?” My face flushed hot, and I quickly pulled back. “Sorry, please continue!” While he was showering, I searched again for all the gossip about Hugo Edwards. At a previous public event, Hugo Edwards had been seen in a wheelchair. Because he usually kept a low profile with little information leaked, rumors spread about his disability. But tonight’s Hugo Edwards could not only walk normally, he hadn’t tried to hide it from me. Suddenly, a wild thought popped into my head: Could he be an impostor pretending to be Hugo Edwards? Thinking this, I couldn’t help but sneak another peek through the bathroom door, squinting my eyes to see inside. In the steam-filled bathroom, I noticed a dark purple circular birthmark on the man’s waist. Hmm—it really was Hugo Edwards! Suddenly, the man turned around. Long, slender legs, a flawless V-line, and those eight-pack abs—who wouldn’t be mesmerized by that sight? “Get out!” As soon as he spoke, a large bath towel landed precisely on my head. “Sorry!” Now that I had confirmed his identity, I started to feel uneasy. Seeing him naked the first time we met wasn’t exactly appropriate, was it? We were married, not strangers, right? No, wait. We hadn’t even met before the wedding, so we were practically strangers! The sound of water stopped, and my heart skipped a beat. Whatever, I thought. If I die, I die. Worst case, I’ll let him see me too! Hugo came out wrapped in a towel, drying his hair as he walked. Droplets of water trickled down his exposed broad shoulders. He raised his dark eyes and asked with a frown, “Why are you still here?” I froze for a moment, “Where should I be?” “Mrs. Sun!” A minute later, Mrs. Sun led me to the room next door. “Ma’am, this will be your room from now on.” I think I finally understood where Hugo Edwards was “disabled”!

I don’t have trouble sleeping in new places. In fact, I felt more at ease here than at my family home. I fell asleep as soon as I hit the bed and slept until dawn when Mrs. Sun knocked on the door to call me down for breakfast. In the living room, a tall figure was leaning back in a chair, long legs crossed. If I wasn’t mistaken, he was reading a newspaper? It suddenly reminded me of my maternal grandfather who passed away over a decade ago. The old man loved to sit in his chair, basking in the sunlight while reading the newspaper. Tsk, how old-fashioned. The man suddenly turned his head, his dark eyes as deep as an ancient well. “What are you looking at?” I snickered, “You’re clearly a normal person, so why do you always use a wheelchair?” Hugo didn’t explain because he had already started to enjoy the breakfast Mrs. Sun brought over. “Ma’am, please eat.” Uh… I felt a bit uncomfortable and smiled, asking the kind Mrs. Sun, “Mrs. Sun, you don’t need to call me ma’am in the future. It’s too formal. Just call me Nancy!” “But…” Hugo frowned unconsciously, “Mrs. Sun, just do as she says.” Just then, a black luxury car silently pulled into the courtyard, and an elderly woman with white hair stepped out. This elderly lady was Hugo’s grandmother, whom everyone called the Old Madam. Hugo and I quickly got up to greet her at the door. “Grandma!” “Good, good, good. You were eating, weren’t you?” The Old Madam smiled, looking us up and down, then had someone open the thermal container she brought. A faint medicinal smell wafted from the steaming container. “Hugo, drink this quickly.” Hugo wrinkled his nose, his expression just like a child being forced to take medicine by their parents. I couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. “Grandma, what is this now?” The old lady took my hand and patted it gently. “Nancy, dear, don’t mind this. This old woman doesn’t know how many days she has left. I’ve waited so long for Hugo to get married, and seeing you two so well-matched makes me happy.” I smiled sweetly, “Grandma, please don’t say such things. You’re in good health and will surely live to be a hundred. Hugo and I will take care of you together!” My words delighted the old lady so much she couldn’t stop smiling. “This child is so much better than that blockhead.” The “blockhead” Hugo showed no sign of anger at being called that. “Grandma, why are you telling her all this?” The Old Madam pretended to be angry, glaring at him lovingly. “You! Such a good girl like Nancy marrying you. If you dare to upset her, I’ll break your legs myself!” Hugo was also surprised that the Old Madam liked me so much. “Drink the medicine quickly, it’s good for your health.” Hugo had no choice but to pick up the bowl and down it in one go. I felt bitter just watching him, but he didn’t even frown, as if he was used to it. “Ah—that’s more like it. Get your body strong and healthy, so you can hurry up and have children!” Hugo, who was wiping his mouth, started coughing, his face suddenly turning unpleasant. “Grandma, you… you haven’t believed those online rumors, have you?” As a bystander who knew more than the general public, I knew Hugo wasn’t lame at all, he was actually… hmm!

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On the eve of the National Piano Championship, I accidentally burned my right hand and lost my shot at the title. When Damian Rhodes heard about it, he rushed back from out of town overnight. Everyone said he was hopelessly in love with me. Only I knew the truth. Damian had orchestrated my injury to make Delilah Monroe, his old flame, happy. At Willowbrook Medical Center, Damian barely glanced at my scarred hand. With a dismissive tone, he said, “Does it really hurt that much? Stop pretending.” “I only told them to spill half a cup of water.” Listening to his indifferent words, I didn’t argue. Instead, I silently began to plan my escape—an escape set for one month later, on our wedding day. Content In the stillness of the hospital room, Damian repeatedly checked his phone. His eyes flicked toward the screen every few seconds, as if waiting for someone’s message. The IV line started to backflow, yet he remained utterly distracted. Unable to hold back, I finally said, “Damian, the IV is empty.” He responded with a casual grunt, not even sparing me a glance. A notification sound interrupted the silence. A small smile spread across his face, softening even his normally cold eyes. His fingers moved quickly across the screen, typing. I turned my head away, unwilling to watch. There was no need to guess—he was texting Delilah. Only she could bring out this side of him. “Oh, by the way, when your IV finishes, just head home on your own.” He didn’t look up, issuing the instruction without care. I turned to the window. Outside, it was drizzling, but the wind was strong. At that moment, a new post from Delilah popped up on Instagram Stories. It was a screenshot of a hefty bank transfer. “Thanks for the $52,000, Damian~” A wave of realization hit me. I remembered last Valentine’s Day when I begged Damian for a $143 gift. It had taken endless coaxing before he reluctantly agreed, all while sneering, “Sabrina, when did you become so materialistic?” “Why make such a fuss over something as trivial as Valentine’s Day?” Yet for Delilah, he’d transferred $52,000 without blinking an eye. I curled my fingers into my palm, as if that could ease the ache in my heart. Just then, Delilah walked in, holding a bouquet of flowers. The moment Damian saw her, he shot to his feet, unable to hide his excitement. He rushed over and took the flowers from her hands. Delilah revealed a trophy she’d been hiding behind her back. “I’m the champion!” she announced proudly. Damian looked even happier than she did and hugged her right in front of me. Watching this scene unfold, I couldn’t help but feel the bitter sting of irony. In the preliminary rounds, I had been the clear frontrunner, leaving Delilah far behind in second place. Even the judges had congratulated me early. “Miss Hale, there’s no competition. The title is yours.” Everyone was convinced I’d win. But then Delilah cried to Damian. With teary eyes and a trembling voice, she clung to his sleeve. She didn’t even have to say a word. Damian couldn’t stand to see her upset.

He’d felt so sorry for her that he arranged for someone to burn my hand. God knows how much it hurt when I called the event staff to withdraw from the competition. “Miss Hale, are you withdrawing voluntarily?” the staff member asked, incredulous. Tears streamed down my face, each one heavy with pain and resentment. “Yes, I’m withdrawing voluntarily,” I forced myself to say. I averted my gaze from the trophy that should have been mine. I could lose to anyone but Delilah Monroe. Damian still didn’t know that Delilah was the reason my father had died. Ten years ago, my father had jumped into Whispering Lake to save her from drowning. Ignoring everyone’s protests, he dove in without hesitation and brought her to safety. But once onshore, Delilah didn’t thank him. Instead, she accused him, shouting, “He touched me underwater! He’s a creep!” “He’s crazy!” As a schoolteacher, my father couldn’t bear the humiliation. Amid the public outrage, he chose to end his own life. After Damian and Delilah finished their cozy celebration, she finally noticed me. With a smile, she extended her trophy toward me. “Sabrina, don’t be too upset,” she said sweetly. “Not everyone can win, you know.” “You touched the trophy; that’s almost the same as being the champion.” Her condescending kindness only fueled the fire in me. I couldn’t suppress a cold laugh. “Must be nice to feel so justified about something you stole.” My words wiped the smugness from her face. Damian’s expression darkened, and he immediately shielded Delilah behind him. Delilah’s eyes brimmed with tears, the kind that clung to the edge but didn’t fall—just enough to look pitiful. “Sabrina, has the IV gone to your head?” Damian snapped. “Delilah came to comfort you, not to be your punching bag.” Delilah tugged at his sleeve, pretending to defend me. “Don’t say that. Sabrina’s hand injury…” But Damian cut her off. “No need to make excuses for her.” He cast a scornful glance at me. “No talent is no talent.” “Just because you’ve won a few awards doesn’t mean you’re better than Delilah.”

Damian’s cutting words left me momentarily stunned. When we had first started dating, Damian wasn’t the wealthy, arrogant man he was now. Back then, he noticed my love for piano and spent all his savings to buy me a piano. I’ll never forget that day. Damian stood in our cramped apartment with that piano awkwardly taking up most of the space. His hands, rough and red from endless part-time jobs, were tucked behind his back as he said, “Congratulations, Sabrina Hale, on earning your very first piano.” I cried so hard that I couldn’t form a complete sentence. “But I… I’m not even talented enough for this.” Damian gently hugged me and whispered in my ear, “No, Sabrina. In my heart, you’re the greatest pianist there ever was.” It was because of Damian’s encouragement, again and again, that I didn’t give up on my dream. But people change. The Damian who stood before me at thirty-one was nothing like the Damian at twenty-two. He no longer gave me unconditional support or held me as his priority. As he stormed out of the hospital room, he slammed the door so hard it echoed in the hallway. His parting shot stung: “Sabrina, this is your last warning. If you upset Delilah one more time, I swear I’m canceling the wedding next month!” Damian loved to use the wedding as a weapon. He always believed I couldn’t live without him. Maybe he was right in the past. But now, I opened my phone and booked a flight to Cambridge, England. The date? The exact day I was supposed to marry Damian Rhodes.

When the IV was finished, it was already 4 a.m. My phone was out of battery, I had no choice but to walk home alone. At dawn, I finally opened the door to our house. There was Damian, wearing an apron in the kitchen, cooking. The house, normally so cold, was filled with a faint warmth. He glanced up at me, and his expression faltered briefly when he saw my wet hair and rumpled clothes. For a moment, guilt flickered in his eyes. He rubbed his temples as if trying to ease a headache and walked toward me. “Leaving you behind was wrong. I’ve ordered takeout. You should eat something,” he said, his tone unusually soft, as if trying to break the ice. I looked at the takeout containers on the table and felt no appetite at all. One box contained a simple fried egg. After all these years, Damian still hadn’t remembered that I’m allergic to eggs. My gaze wandered to the counter, where several carefully packed lunchboxes were sitting—vegetables, meat, and even freshly sliced fruit. A pot of simmering rib stew sat on the stove. Damian noticed my attention and awkwardly shifted his body to block my view. “She’s been practicing piano a lot,” he said, clearly referring to Delilah. “I can’t just ignore her, you know.” As he spoke, he shrugged, as if he were truly helpless. In the past, I would have argued. But now, a quiet sense of exhaustion spread through me. A year ago, Damian had lost his wallet while on a business trip out of state. Delilah had been the one to help him. Ever since then, he’d constantly said, “If it weren’t for Delilah, I don’t know what I’d do.” No matter how big or small her problems were, Damian would always rush to her side without hesitation. Whenever I voiced my dissatisfaction, Damian would snap at me impatiently. “Sabrina, Delilah isn’t just anyone. I see her as my little sister.” The thought of it made me feel an overwhelming bitterness. I brushed past him and said flatly, “She should take care of herself better, then.” Damian looked surprised, as if he couldn’t recognize me anymore. But he didn’t press me. Instead, he pulled a small, elegant jewelry box from his pocket. I recognized it immediately. It was the diamond necklace I’d asked for months ago. Despite mentioning it more than once, Damian had never bought it for me. But now, he was suddenly offering it to me.

As Damian opened the box, the diamond necklace shimmered, just as beautiful as it had been in the store window. But I couldn’t bring myself to feel happy. I’d seen an identical necklace around Delilah’s neck before. I still remembered her smug expression. “This necklace?” she’d said, practically gloating. “I just casually mentioned it to Damian, and the next day it was mine.” The thing I had longed for, Delilah had gotten with little effort. A wave of nausea washed over me, and I pushed Damian away, heading for the bedroom. My dismissal enraged him. With a sharp snap, he closed the box, his face dark with anger. “Sabrina, what’s your problem?” “You won’t eat the food in front of you, and now you won’t even look at the necklace I bought you?” “Are you still mad about that incident?” We both knew exactly what “incident” he was referring to. Seeing my indifferent expression only made him angrier. His chest heaved as if he were about to explode. He grabbed a nearby photo frame and hurled it to the floor. The glass shattered into countless pieces. “Sabrina, you’re completely out of control now!” I didn’t respond. My eyes lingered on the broken photo. It was our first picture together. I’d been so proud of it that I’d framed it myself. I still remembered what Damian had said back then. “Sabrina, I’ll never stop loving you.” “So don’t even think about leaving me. We’ll always be together.” I had been so naïve, so quick to believe him. I’d teased him, laughing, “What if you’re the one who changes?” Damian had thought about it seriously before replying with conviction: “Then never forgive me. No matter how much I beg, promise me you won’t.” “Don’t ever come back to me, Sabrina.” The face of the boy Damian had been and the man he had become blurred together in my mind. My nose tingled, and I fought the urge to pick up the shattered frame.

In the end, Damian and I parted with yet another fight unresolved. The reason the argument ended wasn’t because we came to an understanding, but because it was time for him to deliver a meal to Delilah. After Damian slammed the door and stormed out, silence filled the room again. I turned to look at the old piano standing in the corner. Without a moment of hesitation, I grabbed a hammer and swung it down. When the piano was reduced to a heap of splintered wood and broken strings, I called the city disposal service. The worker who arrived was shocked. “Are you sure you want to get rid of this?” I nodded without emotion. “It’s just a pile of meaningless junk.” The next couple of weeks dragged on. The wedding date grew closer, but Damian didn’t even bother coming home. The man who used to complain constantly about being overworked somehow found the time to travel the world with Delilah. I knew all of this from her Instagram Stories. During that time, she posted frequently, mostly pictures of her and Damian together. I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly when I saw his smiling face in those photos. It had been so long since I’d seen Damian smile. Around me, his face was always cold, void of any warmth or kindness. Some friends who heard about the situation couldn’t resist asking: “What’s going on between Damian and that woman?” I paused for a moment before replying calmly, “They’re just friends.” “Are you still getting married?” I smiled. “Of course. Make sure you come to the wedding.” My nonchalant tone convinced everyone that I was deeply in love with Damian—so much so that I was willing to marry him despite knowing about his betrayal.

Three days before the wedding, Damian finally came back. He brought with him a mountain of gifts, filling nearly every corner of the house. He ruffled my hair with a pleased expression and said, “If only you were always this obedient.” I forced myself not to recoil from his touch. That hand—so many times it had held Delilah’s. I found it repulsive. Damian handed me a card and said in a condescending tone, “Pick out the wedding ring yourself.” “Delilah is busy preparing for an important competition, and I need to be there for her.” Afraid I might throw a tantrum, Damian added a warning: “This competition is very important to her. Don’t cause any trouble.” To his surprise, I simply nodded. Damian didn’t notice anything unusual. He assumed I had finally learned my place, and his mood visibly improved as he left the house. For the next three days, Damian spent all his time with Delilah without a care in the world. On the wedding day, as the makeup artist gave me the final touches, I listened closely to the officiant’s voice from the hall. “Let’s welcome the bride…” Before the next words could be spoken, an urgent ringtone broke the ceremony’s rhythm. In front of everyone, Damian answered the call, looking visibly flustered. Delilah’s tearful voice came through the speakerphone, loud enough for the entire room to hear: “Damian, the goldfish you bought me isn’t moving! Is it dying?” The audience murmured in disbelief, but Damian hesitated only for a moment before raising his hand decisively. “Sorry, the wedding is postponed. We’ll resume in thirty minutes.” The room erupted into chaos, but Damian didn’t care. He left without looking back. This time, neither did I. I ripped off my veil, stepped out of the wedding dress, and walked out under the shocked stares of everyone. I hailed a cab and left.

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The Fourth of July coincided with the fifth anniversary of my marriage to Serena Sinclair. We had planned a trip to Napa Valley for the holiday, but on the morning of our departure, Serena hastily packed her suitcase and said, “There’s a last-minute work trip I need to attend to for the company.” I believed her—until later that night when I scrolled through Instagram Stories and saw a post from her first love, Lucas Stone. In the photo, the two of them were close, fingers intertwined, their matching silver bracelets glaringly prominent. I let out a bitter laugh. Serena had made it to Napa Valley, just not with me. I didn’t call to confront her. Instead, I calmly gave the post a like. A minute later, Serena called me, her voice frantic. “This is just a misunderstanding. We just happened to run into each other while on business. I promise I’ll make it up to you next Fourth of July.” I chuckled disdainfully. “No worries. Have fun.” She paused, confused. “Why aren’t you jealous this time?” … When Serena returned a week later, dragging her oversized suitcase through the door, I stayed seated on the couch, my eyes on the TV. In the past, I would have rushed to help her, taken her bag, and even swapped her shoes. Not this time. Serena leaned against the door, frowning at me. “Elias, where are my slippers?” I nodded toward the shoe rack. “In the cabinet. Help yourself.” Her brows furrowed tighter, but after a brief hesitation, she relaxed and fetched the slippers herself. Walking over to me, she glanced at the empty dining table and pouted. “I’m starving. Can you make me some chicken soup?” Normally, I would’ve jumped up at any time, even at 3 a.m., to make her something. Today, I simply replied, “No time. Order takeout.” Serena’s face flickered with annoyance, but she sighed and softened her tone. “Honey, I know the sudden trip upset you. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I even brought you a gift. Can you forgive me?” I didn’t look at her. “You’re overthinking it. I’m not mad.” She froze, clearly surprised, before knitting her brows again. From her suitcase, she pulled out a plain-wrapped gift. Inside was a navy-and-emerald tie. She smiled expectantly. “Do you like it? I picked it out just for you.” Three days earlier, Lucas had posted about a Fourth of July mall promotion: spend over $10,000 and get a complimentary tie. That exact tie was now Serena’s “thoughtful” gift. I kept my composure, took the tie, and thanked her flatly. “Appreciate it. You’re so thoughtful.” Serena blinked, stunned. “That’s all you’re going to say?” “Mm-hmm. What else would you like to hear?” Her frown deepened as she clutched my arm, trying to explain. “You’re still mad, aren’t you? I already told you, Lucas and I just ran into each other at the airport and had a meal. That’s it.” I nodded. “I know. I’m not mad.” She stared at me, shocked. “Why aren’t you jealous this time?” “Because I’ve stopped caring.” I grabbed my coat and headed for the door. Serena stepped in front of me, blocking my path. “Where are you going? And what about my anniversary gift?” A month earlier, I had won a sapphire charm bracelet at an auction, and Serena had seen the news about it. Instead of explaining, I took out my phone and transferred $5,000 to her account. “Forgot to prepare one. Buy yourself whatever you like.” She stood in stunned silence. In five years of marriage, I had never once failed to prepare a thoughtful gift for any occasion. After a few seconds, she grew angry, grabbing my hand. “Where’s the bracelet?!” I let out a cold laugh and pointed at her wrist. “What bracelet? Isn’t that matching bracelet with Lucas enough?” Serena flushed with embarrassment. “It’s… just something he gave me as a friend. Don’t overthink it. I’ll take it off now.” After living together for five years, I knew her micro-expressions well. The way her fingers fidgeted with her shirt revealed her unease. Having lost faith in her, I had no desire to argue. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I turned and left.

For five years of marriage, I put Serena first, which meant I hadn’t seen my old friends in forever. I booked a flight to Charleston and called up my closest buddy, Adrian Starr. Adrian immediately arranged a gathering. Three rounds of drinks in, the guys eyed me curiously. “We thought you abandoned us after you got married. Does Serena know you’re here?” I took a sip and smiled. “From now on, call me anytime. No permission needed.” My phone buzzed incessantly with calls from Serena. Ever since Lucas returned to the States, there had been countless nights when Serena didn’t come home, leaving me anxiously dialing her number. When I confronted her about not answering, she once snapped, “Did the sky fall? Every time I see a bunch of missed calls from you, I feel sick.” Now, she was the one endlessly calling. We stayed out until late, nearly midnight, when Serena suddenly burst into the bar, looking disheveled. She pulled out a chair and sat beside me as if nothing had happened, taking my glass and scolding, “You shouldn’t drink so much when you’ve got stomach issues. Do you even care about your health?” Her sudden concern felt jarring, almost foreign. I glanced at her, my tone icy. “What are you doing here?” The guys greeted her politely, and she smiled before gripping my hand tightly. “You didn’t answer my calls. I had no choice but to come find you.” I shook her off, my voice cold. “Serena, I’ve already told you. We have nothing to do with each other anymore. Don’t overstep.” She froze, staring at me in disbelief. I ignored her and left with Adrian, brushing past her. Serena followed us outside, shouting after me. “Elias, I’ve come all this way to make amends. What else do you want me to do?” “Grow up. We’re almost thirty. Do we really need to play these disappearing games after an argument?” She climbed into the car with me and Adrian, determined to follow us. In the car, she clutched my arm, begging to talk. I refused, and she grew flustered. “Enough is enough. You’ve had your fun, drowned your sorrows, and now it’s time to come home.” “You’re jealous, aren’t you? But I swear, Lucas and I are completely innocent. Why are you hurting yourself over this?” I smirked. “You’ve misunderstood. I drank tonight because I was happy to see my friends. Nothing more.” I pushed past her, heading into Adrian’s home, ignoring her frantic knocking at the door. That night, I slept like a baby.

The next morning, Adrian knocked on my door. “Serena’s here.” Dressed and ready, I went downstairs to find her sitting at the table, face clouded with anger. In the past, even the smallest frown would have me rushing to cheer her up. This time, I walked past her without a word, flagged down a cab, and headed to the airport. At the gate, I ran into Serena again. She marched up, her tone sharp. “Elias, we’re married. There’s no need to avoid me over something so trivial.” Without looking up, I typed on my laptop and replied, “You’re overthinking it. I’m not avoiding you.” Before I could finish, her phone rang, the ringtone indicating her priority contact. From where I sat, I heard Lucas’s voice. “Where are you? Don’t forget tonight’s event. Whether or not we close this deal depends on it.” Lucas had been back in the States for three years, and Serena had quietly leveraged my name to help him numerous times. I had tolerated it, choosing to look the other way. But the tender smile on her lips and the sweet tone in her voice were things she had never given me. Whenever I asked for more warmth in our conversations, her response was always the same: “Work already drains me enough. Can’t you stop being so demanding?” I sent a message to my assistant, instructing him to inform our partners that Serena and I were beginning divorce proceedings. After ending her call, Serena turned to me, her earlier smile gone in an instant. “There’s still work to do, and flights are fully booked. Give me your ticket. You can take the next one.” I stayed put. Serena repeated herself, her tone more insistent. “I didn’t buy a ticket back to Charleston,” I replied flatly. Her face twisted in frustration. “So this is all a show, huh? You’re just trying to make me jealous?” “You’re being ridiculous!” she snapped before storming off. I watched her retreating figure, a pang of bitterness rising in my chest. No matter where she was or what she was doing, Lucas always came first. As Lucas had once posted: true devotion is when someone’s priority is always you.

I didn’t buy a ticket back to Charleston because my destination was Seattle. After taking over Ford Enterprises, my primary goal was to expand into retail chains, and the land in Westfield District seemed like the perfect location. Adrian Starr had recommended a mentor to me, someone who was a close friend of his father. He assured me that one dinner with this man could teach me a great deal. From the moment we met, we hit it off. Over dinner, Professor Nathaniel Huxley helped clarify many of the challenges I was facing. He liked me and suggested that I join his company for six months. He assured me that, during this time, I’d not only learn the ropes but also secure a foothold in the retail business and carve out my own path. With such an opportunity handed to me, I couldn’t refuse. After dinner, as I was about to drop him off at his residence, my phone started ringing incessantly. Serena was calling. I dismissed the calls repeatedly until Professor Huxley, noticing the affectionate name I had saved her under, asked, “Shouldn’t you inform your spouse that you’re in Seattle?” I shook my head, correcting him. “She’s no longer my spouse. I’ve already decided to divorce her.” After dropping off Professor Huxley, I finally called Serena back. As soon as the call connected, she launched into accusations: “Elias, what’s going on? Why did the corporate partners tell me they’ll only discuss matters with you directly?” “What’s happening? Haven’t I been managing all the company’s operations for years? Don’t you realize how important tonight’s deal is for me?” Her commanding tone was the same as ever, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “And?” Before she could respond, I heard Lucas’s voice in the background: “Serena, you have to help me with this. You’re my only hope.” Serena’s tone immediately softened as she reassured him, “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything.” Hearing this, I clenched the steering wheel tightly, my knuckles turning white. Serena had repeatedly claimed that her relationship with Lucas was strictly professional, yet here she was, offering him a level of warmth and care she’d never shown me. The pretense was sickening. I coldly declined further conversation and hung up, turning off my phone.

I spent two days in Seattle. Between sipping tea with Professor Huxley and completing onboarding paperwork, I also scouted a place to live near the company. I had my assistant notify several business partners about my plans to move abroad and took the opportunity to thank them for their support over the years. The house showed no signs of Serena’s presence, and everything seemed as usual. I changed the door lock code. After a day of rest, my business partners started calling, insisting on a farewell dinner. Unable to refuse, I agreed. When I arrived, the door to the private room was slightly ajar, and I could hear Lucas and the partners chatting. I hesitated, puzzled as to why a simple farewell dinner included Serena and Lucas. After a brief pause, I walked in. Lucas sat close to Serena in the seat of honor. When she saw me, she glanced up and said, “Everyone here is a friend, so just sit wherever you like.” “There were some misunderstandings during the last event. Now that everyone’s here, let’s clear the air.” All eyes were on me. I didn’t speak, and the room fell silent. Lucas’s smug expression radiated as he smirked at me. I avoided sitting near them, pulling out a random chair and taking my seat. Throughout dinner, Lucas raised his glass frequently, enthusiastically toasting the partners while boasting about the bright future of their newly signed deals. He was clearly enjoying himself. Meanwhile, my phone kept buzzing with messages from Serena. “I need to make an announcement later. Just play along. Whatever concerns you have, we’ll talk about them at home.” “You’ll see tonight that there’s nothing improper between Lucas and me. There’s nothing to hide.” I read through her messages until the latest one popped up: “Lucas will probably drink too much tonight. I might need to take him home afterward.” Raising an eyebrow, I responded with a curt, “Do as you like.” After a few rounds of drinks, Serena decided the time was right. She stood with Lucas, clinking glasses as she addressed the room. “Starting today, Lucas Stone will be the new project manager for our company. He’ll be your primary point of contact moving forward. Please take care of him.” A business partner sitting closest to me raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Point of contact? For what? Ford Enterprises has already decided to pull out of Charleston, and we’ve made plans to withdraw as well. Who’s he supposed to work with?” “What? Pull out of Charleston? Elias, you…” Serena’s face turned pale as she whipped her head toward me. I nodded calmly. “That’s right. I’m planning to move Ford Enterprises overseas.” Serena’s eyes widened in shock, her expression frozen. “You’re moving Ford Enterprises abroad? What about me?”

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I had been married to Lydia Hale for five years, and she had never respected me. Worse, she and her golden boy, Caleb Monroe, framed me, leading to a brutal beating that landed me in the hospital. She even walked into the operating room in front of me to terminate our child—just because she couldn’t stand the idea of having a baby with my genes. My sister, Victoria Sterling, also believed Caleb’s lies and grew to despise me. The worst part? They conspired to send me to prison in Caleb’s place. I endured hell in Blackstone Correctional Facility, and when I finally decided to give up on all of them, they started to regret it. Content When Lydia came to pick me up, I was still in Warden Gregory Maddox’s office, enduring one of his punishments. He had me on my knees as he lashed my back with a whip. “Warden, Prisoner #8074’s family is here,” Officer Adam Carter announced from the doorway. Maddox paused, setting the whip aside. He glared down at me. “#8074, you know what to say and what not to say once you’re out, don’t you?” Trembling, I nodded. “I… I understand.” Satisfied with my submission, he nodded and grabbed the paperwork Adam handed him. “Sign this,” he barked. I took the pen with shaky hands and scrawled my name—Ryan Sterling. It had been so long since anyone had called me by my name that I hesitated before writing it. Maddox walked me to the prison gates himself, a clear threat lingering in the gesture. Outside, the blinding sunlight burned my eyes. As I adjusted, I saw her standing next to a luxury car, stunning as ever—my wife, Lydia Hale. The same woman who had orchestrated my imprisonment. And not just her. My sister, Victoria Sterling—the sibling I had vowed to protect—had been complicit. The two women I loved most had worked together to send me to hell. “Ryan Sterling, what are you dawdling for?” Lydia snapped, her tone dripping with impatience. Reluctantly, I picked up my meager belongings and approached her. But the closer I got, the more revolted I felt. A wave of nausea hit me, and I doubled over, retching dryly. I hadn’t eaten in a day; there was nothing to vomit. Lydia didn’t even feign concern. Instead, she sneered, “What, playing the sympathy card again? You’re disgusting. Is that all you know how to do?” Straightening up, I caught her gaze—cold, disdainful, as though I were nothing more than dirt beneath her designer heels. Before I went to prison, Lydia had been pregnant with my child. She took me to Memorial General Hospital and, without a shred of hesitation, entered the operating room. When she emerged, the baby was gone. I’ll never forget the first thing she said to me after. “Ryan Sterling, you’re so vile that just carrying your child made me sick. Now that it’s gone, I feel lighter.” With one callous remark, she killed our child. “What are you staring at now?” Lydia’s voice jolted me back to reality. “Hurry up and get in the car. We don’t want Caleb waiting too long,” she added. The mention of Caleb Monroe sent a sharp pang through my chest. If not for him, I wouldn’t have ended up like this. Lydia tried to grab my bag, but I yanked it away instinctively. “No… I can handle it myself.” She raised an eyebrow. “Prison taught you some independence, I see. Good. At least it cured you of your spoiled brat tendencies.” Her words were absurdly amusing. Prison had taught me independence? It was Caleb’s drunk driving that had caused a fatal accident. Lydia and Victoria couldn’t bear the thought of him in prison, so they framed me instead. In Blackstone Correctional Facility, I experienced horrors beyond comprehension. When I first arrived, Maddox had me placed in solitary confinement. For a moment, I thought Lydia had bribed him to give me better accommodations. But I soon realized his “special attention” was anything but kind. On my first day, I noticed a group of inmates ganging up on others. Naively, I reported it to Maddox. That night, I was dragged into a secret room filled with torture devices. They stripped me to the waist, tied me to a beam, and lashed my back until it was raw and bleeding. I passed out from the pain, but they revived me with a bucket of saltwater poured over my wounds. The agony was indescribable. When they’d had their fill, they tossed me into the same cell as the bullies I’d reported. Those men tortured me all night. Later, I learned they had bribed Maddox for protection, and I had crossed the wrong people.

After that, Warden Gregory Maddox seemed to take pleasure in finding new ways to torment me. In the dead of winter, during one of Blackstone’s infamous blizzards, he dragged me out of the prison unnoticed. He stripped me down to nothing, threw me into the snow, and ordered me to crawl forward on my knees, shouting, “I’m nothing but scum! I don’t deserve Lydia Hale!” Another time, he used a medieval-style hand press on me, forcing my fingers apart until the bones cracked. My hands became limp, useless appendages that could no longer hold anything, let alone a melody on the piano. Every time he tortured me, my screams were so guttural they shredded my vocal cords. My voice, once clear and resonant, was now a hoarse rasp. They even jammed a sharp object into my right ear, rupturing my eardrum. All I could hear on that side was a faint, distorted hum. But I was a pianist. My hands and my ears were my life. And in Blackstone, both were destroyed. “#8074,” Maddox would sneer as he delivered another blow. “You’re nothing but trash. You tricked Lydia into marrying you, sabotaged Caleb Monroe, and almost drove him to suicide. Everything happening to you now is what you deserve.” “You should be grateful. Suffering here is your penance.” He repeated these words every day like a mantra, as if trying to make me believe them. Lydia drove silently, glancing at me with irritation when I didn’t respond. “What’s wrong with you now, Ryan? Gone mute?” I turned my head slightly, my right ear catching only fragments of her voice. I chuckled bitterly. Once, I would have talked endlessly around Lydia, eager for any acknowledgment, even if it was just a dismissive word. Now, my silence seemed to bother her more than my presence. “I didn’t want to irritate you,” I rasped, my voice barely audible and nothing like the way it used to sound. She seemed momentarily taken aback by my tone but quickly brushed it off, glaring at me. “Ryan Sterling, I’ve told you before—your pathetic tricks won’t work on me.” She thought I was playing the victim, trying to gain her sympathy. In the past, I might have tried to explain myself, but now, I didn’t see the point. The car pulled up to Sterling Manor in Manhattan’s gated community. Lydia parked and stepped out, motioning for me to follow. Before entering, she turned and said, “Caleb doesn’t know you went to prison for him. Don’t let anything slip. Understand?” I lifted my head to look at the house. This used to be my home, my sanctuary, the place where Lydia and I were supposed to build a life together. Now, it was someone else’s domain. And I was no longer welcome—not as a husband, not even as a human being. Caleb Monroe came out of the house, his face lighting up with a smile. “Ryan!” he called, hurrying toward me. “You’re finally back! All these years studying abroad, and you didn’t visit us once. We’ve missed you!” I stared at his face, familiar and repulsive. Did he really believe I didn’t know the truth? That I had spent three years in Blackstone for him? Impossible. I could still hear Maddox’s words, the ones I overheard during a rare moment of solitude: “Mr. Monroe says this one’s trash. Do whatever you want with him, but make it hurt. Your reward is guaranteed.” The bribes Caleb had paid ensured my suffering. During those three years, Lydia only visited me once. I’ll never forget that day. Desperation clung to me like a second skin as I picked up the phone in the visitation room. “Lydia,” I begged, my voice cracking, “Caleb bribed Maddox to hurt me. I’ve already taken the blame for him—why is he still doing this?” “Please,” I pleaded, my throat tightening. “I can’t take this anymore. Get me out of here.” She laughed—a cold, empty sound. “What blame? You caused the accident, Ryan.” Her next words plunged me into despair: “You’re still trying to frame Caleb? You’ll never change. Stay here and learn your lesson. I’ll have Maddox work on fixing your attitude.” I screamed after her, ripping at my vocal cords until the sound became a garbled mess. “Lydia, I’ll die in here!” She hung up, walking away without a backward glance. Maddox heard about my plea and made me pay. He tied me to a wooden pole in the isolation chamber, stripping my shirt off and whipping me with a spiked lash. The barbs cut deep into my skin, leaving long, jagged scars that bled profusely. I blacked out from the pain, but they brought me back with electric shocks. When I was conscious again, they made me repeat degrading phrases, calling myself a worthless wretch unworthy of Lydia. If I hesitated, they pressed a knife to my fingers. The first time, I resisted. But when they pressed harder, threatening to sever the tendons in my hands, I broke. “I’m nothing! I’m unworthy of Lydia Hale!” I screamed until my voice was raw. But they didn’t stop there. The knife came down anyway, slicing clean through my ring finger. I didn’t even have the strength to cry out. My pain was their entertainment. Before I passed out again, I heard their laughter and jeers. “This is what happens when you cross Mr. Monroe. You’re nothing but a pathetic excuse for a human being.”

I deserve to be punished. But never for offending Caleb. Rather, it was for loving Lydia. Seeing me dazed, Lydia slapped my arm in an unkind manner, trying to rouse my thoughts. But when I saw her raise her hand, I hurriedly squatted down and covered my head, “Don’t hit me… It’s me who did wrong… Please… Don’t hit me anymore…” Seeing me like this, Lydia was stumped in place. She seemed to notice something was wrong and hurriedly asked, “Ryan, what’s wrong with you.” Caleb changed his face and blocked in front of Lydia so that she couldn’t see me before pretending to be concerned about me, “Ryan, are you not feeling well somewhere, let me help you to rest inside.” When I heard Caleb’s fake concern, my stomach instantly retched and I reflexively pushed Caleb away. However, I hadn’t used much force, but Caleb cried out and then fell to the ground, looking at me with a soft look. Lydia instantly got angry and pushed me away, rushing to Caleb’s side, “Caleb, are you alright, are you hurt?” Caleb gripped Lydia’s hand tightly and put on a look that I was the one who was aggrieved and said, “It’s me who didn’t stand still, it’s none of Ryan’s business.” Lydia heard Caleb’s words, even more angry tilted his head to look at me: “Ryan, you have not yet entered the house you are so bullying Caleb, went to prison for so long actually have not learned a good lesson.” I didn’t dare to refute Lydia. But I was already well-behaved enough. Those inmates knew that the warden was targeting me, and made things even more difficult for me. They would beat me up in groups while I was working, throw all my food on the floor during meals, step on my back to make me lie down on the floor, and lick up the food like a dog. When I didn’t finish licking, they would step on my head and force me to finish licking. Then laugh as if I was their next meal. The warden and the other guards knew about it, but no one came out to refute it. Oh, there was that too. There was a new guard who couldn’t stand to look at me and help me, but he ended up being taken by the warden to the small dark room and beaten half to death that day, and the next day he went to serve elsewhere. So no one dares to help me in this prison. They all bullied me. Some of them even got a reward from the prison warden for bullying me, which is why they are even more unrestrained. Lydia helped Caleb into the house. I hesitated outside the door for half a day, but still entered the house. It was winter now, and I was wearing thin clothes that didn’t fit the season, and it was really cold outside. Just as I entered the house, I could smell the smell of seafood emanating from the dining table. I resisted the urge to vomit and followed Lydia’s lead to the dining table. “Ryan, I remember you used to love seafood the most, I don’t know if you’ve changed in the few years you’ve been abroad.” Caleb said and put the seafood on the plate in my bowl. The fishy odor of the seafood rushed directly into my nose, causing my breath to stutter. Then it was those things in my stomach that were churning. I slammed my head down and grabbed the corner of the table to vomit. But it was still the same, there was nothing in my stomach in the first place, and now even if I wanted to vomit, I couldn’t get anything out. Caleb immediately said as if he felt sorry for me, ”Ryan, what’s wrong with you? Is it because the food I made is not to your liking? Or did you go abroad for so long and change your tastes, tell me and I’ll go and redo it for you.” Lydia pulled Caleb away and glared viciously at me, “Ryan, what tricks are you playing again? Caleb knew that you were coming back today and made your favorite meal early, how hard is it to make Caleb’s heart feel like this now.” I raised my eyes, and with tear-stained eyes, I saw Lydia’s undisguised hatred for me. But I didn’t ah. My stomach had already gone bad a long time ago. After I asked Lydia for help that time, the prison warden had locked me in a small dark room where I couldn’t reach my fingers after torturing me in order to punish me. For three whole days I didn’t eat a single meal or drink a single mouthful of water, just lying on the ground like that. It was as if I was waiting for my death. Until I was about to starve to death, the door of the small dark room was opened. The warden walked in with a bowl of stinking rice, and when he threw the bowl in front of me, the smell made my stomach instantly sick. He pressed my head and placed my mouth on that rancid rice and said mockingly, “You cheap bastard, you can only eat these dog’s rice know?” I tasted the rotten meat that no dog would eat, and it was so hard that I wanted to vomit. But I had to eat in order to stay alive. So I picked up the bowl and wolfed down all that rotten rice, as if I couldn’t taste them as long as I ate fast. But it was no use, the flavor spread from my five senses to my lungs, making my whole body want to vomit. “Look at 1931, you guys are like an animal, what a lowly person, just like that you still want to compete with Mr. Monroe for Miss Hale? What a fool’s dream.” “You natural born bitch, calling you a dog insults the dog, you don’t deserve Miss Hale at all.” “1931, you should be tortured in prison for robbing Mr. Monroe.” In the midst of their mockery, I spit out another stream of those things I had just eaten. After that, my stomach was bad. Never again could I smell these smelly things. Even just eating something good was unbearable.

Lydia grew angrier as she watched me, grabbing more seafood with her chopsticks and slamming it into my bowl. “Eat! Eat it all! Caleb worked hard to prepare this. You’re not allowed to waste a single bite.” Her tone left no room for argument. I grabbed the bowl with trembling hands, shoveling the food into my mouth as if by instinct. Years in Blackstone Correctional had trained me to obey commands without hesitation—disobedience only invited more pain. I ate mechanically, forcing the food down like a lifeless automaton. But my stomach couldn’t handle the rich, fishy flavor anymore. As soon as I swallowed, waves of nausea gripped me, and I began to gag uncontrollably, trying to keep the food down. It didn’t take long to finish what was on my plate, but the effort left me doubled over, pounding my chest in a futile attempt to ease the burning discomfort. Then, without warning, my body betrayed me. I retched violently, expelling everything I’d just eaten onto the floor. Lydia leapt back with a look of pure disgust, clutching her nose. “Ryan Sterling, what the hell are you doing?” Her disgust was palpable. I remembered she had a severe aversion to anything unclean. In a panic, I grabbed a rag and began scrubbing the floor with shaking hands, muttering under my breath. “I’m sorry… I did something wrong… Please don’t hit me… Please don’t hit me…” I repeated the words like a broken record, lost in the cycle of apology. Lydia noticed something was wrong, her brows knitting together as she hesitantly stepped closer. “Ryan? What’s wrong with you?” I recoiled from her approach, crouching defensively and clutching my head. “Stay away! I didn’t do anything wrong! Don’t hit me…” Her confusion deepened. “Who’s hitting you?” Caleb interjected, his voice slick with false concern. “Lydia, he’s clearly unwell and rambling nonsense. He’s been abroad, remember? No one’s hitting him.” Her initial suspicions faltered at his reassurance. Caleb was careful to keep her ignorant about what had really happened to me in Blackstone. She shook her head, brushing it off. “Caleb, call a doctor to take a look at him. I don’t want him dropping dead in my house—it’d be bad luck.” Caleb nodded quickly, dragging me upstairs to a bedroom. He locked the door behind him, leaving me alone. Lying on the bed, I took deep, gasping breaths of fresh air. The quiet and solitude were almost unbearable after so long. After calming down, I made my way to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face. As I pulled off my gloves, I caught sight of my left hand—the missing tip of my ring finger a cruel reminder of the hell I’d endured. Even with prosthetics, my hands were ruined for music. My hearing was too damaged to feel the nuances of sound. The piano, my first love, was lost to me forever. I rinsed my face and returned to the room, staring at the closet. I began packing what little belonged to me, determined to leave this place—a house that had once been my home, but now felt like a stranger’s domain. Just as I zipped my bag shut, I heard a voice echo from downstairs. “Ryan Sterling, that little bastard, is back? Where is he?” The sound froze me in my tracks, my stomach tightening with dread. I recognized the voice.

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My husband found the perfect excuse to juggle both me and his “colleague” openly and without shame. Before our marriage, I signed a prenuptial confidentiality agreement, agreeing to remain the hidden wife of an Academy Award Winner. If I ever initiated a divorce, I’d walk away with only $18.80 in compensation. For three years of marriage, I’ve watched him flaunt his so-called “Publicity Stunt Pairing” with that colleague. They’ve traveled together, attended events as a couple, and even been photographed entering private hotels arm in arm. Meanwhile, as his “perfect housewife,” I’ve been stuck caring for his bedridden parents and working as his assistant—washing his clothes, cooking his meals, and putting up with his excuses. I didn’t realize how far this charade would go until one night, when his “Shining Star” called, whining about fans begging them to marry. “When are you going to make me your wife?” she pouted. He replied softly, “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll give you the wedding of the century soon. Promise.” …… Content

The cold wind sweeping in from the balcony carried the sound of Gabriel Whitmore’s voice. His words made my body stiffen under the blankets, my throat tightening until I could barely breathe. On the other end of the call, Serena Sterling’s tearful plea was unmistakable. “Gabe, everyone’s looking forward to our wedding. I can’t wait anymore. Please, hurry up and marry me!” Standing on the balcony, his features softened under the dim light as he coaxed her like she was made of glass. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I won’t let you down.” Even in the dead of night, being interrupted didn’t bother him. Talking to his delicate “White Moonlight” seemed to be a labor of love. When Gabriel returned to the bedroom, there was still a trace of a smile in his eyes. But the moment he saw me sitting on the edge of the bed, his expression darkened. “Lexa, what are you doing sitting there in the middle of the night? Are you trying to scare me to death?” I swallowed my bitterness and forced a smile. “What about you? How does it feel, sweet-talking your lover at this hour?” “Lover? Don’t be ridiculous,” Gabriel snapped, irritation flickering in his eyes. “What I have with Serena is strictly for the fans. Don’t disrespect her with such vile accusations.” The audacity of his response made my voice tremble. “Disrespect? Tell me, Gabe, what respectable ‘colleague couple’ in the industry plans a wedding?” His jaw clenched, and he averted his gaze. “You heard that?” Rubbing the back of his neck, he muttered, “I don’t have a choice. The fans demand it. Serena and I have fans all over the world. If we don’t finish the act, it’d be a slap in the face to her efforts.” “Efforts?” My chest tightened with sharp, numbing pain. My body trembled as though it had a mind of its own. For three years, I had to watch the world treat them as the perfect couple. I had to watch them flaunt their love in front of cameras, smiling, holding hands. All while I, Gabriel Whitmore’s real wife, was kept hidden like some dirty little secret. Yet he felt guilty about letting Serena down? What about me? What about the years I spent swallowing my pride and staying silent? “Lexa,” Gabriel began, his tone turning righteous, “this is my career. You know that. Just bear with it a little longer, okay? Everything I do is for the job.” He always justified it this way. Every scripted kiss, every public display of affection—it was all “work.” For a long time, I believed him. Until a friend sent me pictures of him and Serena entering a private hotel suite together just two nights ago. Now, his “work” involved planning a wedding so grand it would shock the world. Meanwhile, when we married, there wasn’t even a ceremony. My voice cracked as I struggled to speak. “Gabe, Serena is just a colleague, right? You’re giving her the wedding of the century. What about me? I’m your wife. Did I ever get a wedding?” When we tied the knot, Gabriel was still a struggling extra, scraping by on bit parts. His parents were so paranoid I was only marrying him for his money that they treated me with disdain from the start. To ease their fears, I signed that ridiculous confidentiality agreement, even agreeing not to have a wedding. Gabriel swore to my parents, “Once I’ve made it big, I’ll give Lexa the wedding she deserves.” But even after he became an Academy Award Winner, he never brought it up again. The one time I hinted that we could have a small ceremony with just family, he waved it off, saying, “Work’s too busy. Maybe later.” But now? Serena’s single phone call was all it took for him to agree. I must’ve seemed unreasonable to him because his tone grew sharp with irritation. “Lexa, I’ve explained this a thousand times. Why can’t you understand? Serena and I are a global sensation. I can’t just walk away.” “Can’t you wait a little longer?” I didn’t answer. The night stretched on, cold and cutting. Looking at the impatience on his face, I suddenly realized how exhausted I was. I didn’t want to wait anymore.

“Lexa, Serena and I have a plan,” Gabriel said, his voice coaxing as if he were talking to a child. “We’ll announce a peaceful breakup after the wedding. At most, another year, and I’ll tell the world you’re my wife.” “This is all for us—for our future. Can’t you see that?” The sheer absurdity of his words made me laugh. I was already his wife, in name and in law. But here I was, hidden in the shadows, waiting for my husband to “give” me what was already mine. Meanwhile, for Serena, he made everything easy. When they first began their “Publicity Stunt Pairing,” she was just a rookie actress. The backlash from his fans was immediate, with waves of online harassment aimed at her. So Gabriel played the role of the protective boyfriend, suing anyone who dared insult her. At a gala, when reporters pried into their relationship, he didn’t even deny it. Instead, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her in front of the flashing cameras. The room erupted with applause. And me? I was sitting in the audience, watching my husband kiss another woman, disguised as his assistant. He later explained it away as part of the script, something the company had arranged. But the “script” became their lives. Public outings, shared vacations, even private gatherings with friends—they were inseparable. He didn’t even bother bringing me along anymore. Eventually, even our mutual friends believed they were perfect for each other. Tears burned in my eyes, but Gabriel brushed them aside with his typical indifference. “Don’t listen to them, Lexa. You’re my wife. What others think doesn’t matter.” Then, as if to prove his devotion, he leaned in to kiss my forehead, gazing at me with those deep, expressive eyes that had fooled me countless times before. But this time, I didn’t budge. “Let’s sleep,” I said, pulling the blanket over my head. I felt him hesitate. Then, he sighed and lay beside me, draping an arm around me. The cold glint of our wedding rings briefly caught the dim light before fading back into darkness. It was only then that I truly realized how far I had fallen.

The next morning, as I was waking up, Gabriel Whitmore called. “Don’t let your temper stop you from visiting the nursing home today to look after my parents,” he said bluntly. Gabriel prided himself on being a dutiful son. Even though Gerald and Dolores Whitmore were living in the best care facility money could buy, his mantra was, “Children should personally care for their parents.” “Okay,” I replied dully and hung up. Then, like clockwork, I headed to Golden Horizon Care Center. As I stepped into the room with a pot of freshly made chicken soup, Dolores’s voice rang out, giddy with pride. “Oh, Natalie, isn’t Serena just stunning? She’ll be my daughter-in-law soon!” She gestured at the television where Serena Sterling’s face filled the screen. The young nurse, Natalie Parker, lit up with excitement. “They’re really getting married?” “Of course!” Gerald and Dolores replied in unison, beaming. My steps faltered. A sharp pang shot through my chest, but I swallowed the bitterness and spoke softly, “Dad, Mom.” The moment my voice registered, their smiles vanished, replaced by cold indifference. Natalie turned to me, confused. “And this lady who’s here every day is…?” “She’s our goddaughter,” Dolores interrupted without missing a beat. Natalie nodded, her misunderstanding cemented. “Wow, I’m so jealous! You’re so lucky to be part of Gabe’s family. Must be amazing to be his sister!” I forced a stiff smile but felt no joy. When Natalie left, Dolores’s tone turned sharp. “Lexa, must you sneak in here unannounced? Trying to scare us to death?” I held back my frustration. “You looked so happy chatting. I didn’t want to interrupt.” Setting the chicken soup on the table, I said, “I made this for you. Please give it a try.” The moment Gerald lifted the bowl to his nose, he sneered and threw it onto the floor. Scalding liquid splashed onto my hand, making me flinch in pain as tears stung my eyes. “What is this? It tastes awful! Lexa, you can’t even cook properly. What good are you?” Dolores scoffed. “I’ll make it again,” I murmured, suppressing my anger while cleaning the mess. A crushing sense of futility enveloped me. Three years of unyielding devotion felt utterly wasted. After finishing their massages, I prepared to leave but decided to ask one last question, holding onto a sliver of hope. “Did you know? Gabe’s planning a wedding with Serena.” “Really?” Dolores’s face lit up, her excitement matching Gerald’s. “That’s wonderful!” they exclaimed, nearly bursting with joy. I expected the blow, but the ache still seeped into my chest. “But I’m his wife,” I whispered, forcing a smile. Gerald’s face twisted into a sneer. “Don’t push your luck. We never wanted you to marry him in the first place. You’ve been sucking him dry for years. You should know when to let go.” Dolores chimed in, her voice dripping with disdain. “Exactly. Stop clinging to Gabe like some parasite.” Parasite? I shouldn’t have been surprised by their cruelty, but hearing it out loud sent a tremor through my body. For three years, I had never asked Gabriel for a dime, nor had he spent anything on me. I paid for my own expenses and cared for his parents selflessly. And yet, this was the label I earned. It hit me then. Gabriel’s cold heart wasn’t a fluke—it was inherited. Three years of devotion couldn’t thaw them, nor could it change him. As their scolding and demands to fetch a bedpan continued, I turned on my heel and walked out without a word. Outside, the sun was starting to break through the clouds. I took a deep breath and made a call. “Hello? Do you have time? …I’ve made my decision.”

When I returned home, the living room lights were already on. Gabriel was sitting on the couch, radiating anger. Before I could speak, he leaped up and stormed toward me, his voice rising. “What the hell was that, Lexa? I’ve been trying to make peace, and you show up at my parents’ place just to throw a tantrum?” I couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity. “I made them soup, Gabe. They didn’t even taste it before throwing it on the floor. They have an entire staff of caregivers, yet they still expect me to clean up after them.” “As your wife, I don’t even rank as high as a housekeeper.” Gabriel frowned, exasperated. “They’re old, Lexa. They’re bound to be emotional. They trust you, that’s why they rely on you.” “Trust me?” I spat, disgusted. “They trust you the most. So why don’t you handle your own parents’ bodily fluids?” In three years, Gabriel had barely visited the nursing home. His excuse? Work kept him too busy. The truth? He couldn’t stomach the indignity of his parents’ failing health, so he passed the responsibility onto me. And because I loved him, I accepted it. But my sacrifices were taken for granted. “How dare you talk to me like that?” Gabriel snarled, his temper boiling over. He slammed the coffee table so hard that the pot of boiling water spilled. The scalding liquid seared my hand, leaving a large, blistering welt. My body trembled from the searing pain. “Maybe now you’ll learn to keep quiet,” Gabriel said, satisfaction flickering in his eyes as he loomed closer. “Can’t you learn something from Serena? She’s gentle, understanding. Why can’t you stop picking fights?” Every sentence dripped with Serena’s name. Always Serena. Clenching my jaw, I stood despite the pain and laughed bitterly. “If you love Serena so much, then marry her.” “Lexa!” Gabriel’s face turned crimson, his voice shaking with rage. “Say that again, and I’ll divorce you.” This was exactly what I had been waiting for. Meeting his gaze, I responded firmly, “Good. Let’s get a divorce.” For a moment, he froze, his expression a mix of disbelief and anger. “You’re serious?” he asked hoarsely. “Yes.” His reaction grew frantic. “Lexa, are you insane? You know the agreement. If you’re the one to file for divorce, you’ll only get $18.80.” That clause had always been his safety net. It never occurred to him that I might leave. Without hesitation, I pulled out my phone and held up my payment app. “Send me $18.80, and I’ll sign the papers right now. I’ll even throw in a parting gift.”

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